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noellawrites · 2 years

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Love You More - Yandere!Jerome Clarke x reader

summary: Jerome manipulates you to breaking up with your boyfriend so you can be with him instead.

warnings: manipulation, gaslighting, lying, creepiness

The moment you arrived at Anubis House with your two suitcases and a lovely personality, Jerome knew he needed to make you his.

But now, one year later, you were still with Mr. Golden Boy Fabian Rutter. Jerome was once again left in the dust.

But this time, Jerome had a plan.

—

"Fabian, would you like to have lunch on the lawn with me today?" you asked, grabbing a piece of fruit from the bowl in the middle of the table.

You sat back down in your seat next to Amber while looking expectantly at Fabian, your boyfriend.

"Uh, well, actually I'm taking Nina to visit my cousin in the city today, but maybe we could catch up at dinner?" he suggested with a grimace.

You shot a quick glare in Nina's direction as she started at her plate, not wanting to get between you and your boyfriend.

"Oh, that's totally fine. No worries," you shrugged, pretending as if you hadn't cared much in the first place.

"(Y/n), I—"

"I have to grab my bag," you sighed, getting up from the table and walking away, fruit still in-hand.

Jerome watched gleefully, a sly grin plastered on his face as he watched the two of you splinter your relationship even more.

—

As Jerome approached you sitting alone on the lawn, he could only think of how beautiful you looked. You also looked exceptionally lonely. He could see it all: every emotion you masked, every Nina and Fabian situation you pretended to ignore. He would make it all better.

"Anyone else sitting here?" you heard Jerome ask. Although you never really talked, you didn't have anything against him so you shook your head.

You watched as he crisscrossed his long legs on your picnic blanket next to you and helped himself to some grapes from your lunch bag.

"Why so sad? You and mister dream boy on the rocks?" Jerome teased, lightly nudging your arm.

You shook your head in disagreement then looked at the ground, silent. You didn't want Jerome knowing how deeply Fabian and Nina's bond had affected you.

Unfortunately for you, Jerome decided to place a hand on your chin and tilt your head up to face his. He immediately noticed the tears glimmering in your eyes.

"Are you seriously crying over that idiot?" Jerome laughs, almost cruelly.

"I'm only crying because I keep dealing with this. Every single time, it's something with Nina and I get pushed aside. What's so special about her anyway?"

"Let me tell you the truth. Fabian is in love with Nina and he doesn't realize the true prize in front of him is you," Jerome whispered, leaning closer and cupping your face with one hand.

When Jerome looked into your eyes, you felt something you’d been lacking with Fabian for a long time: romance, a connection… love.

When Jerome leaned in, lips meeting yours, you felt a burst of fireworks inside your chest. Everything about it felt right, despite the fact that you were still in a committed relationship.

“Fabian is nothing but a lying scumbag who thinks it’s okay to lie to you and push you around. He preys on your sweetness and gullibility. I love you more and I always will,” Jerome insisted after he pulled away from your lips.

The way he phrased it almost made you think those traits were ones you held and they made you weak. You knew he was only looking out for you.

“We decided on a time to meet for a dinner picnic later, so I’ll resolve things then,” you stated to Jerome, who only nodded.

It was too bad you didn’t know that Jerome had taken your flip phone and changed Fabian’s phone number.

—

It was an hour past the time you and Fabian had arranged and you were furious to say the least. You left him at least five calls and numerous texts, and still no response.

You stormed into Anubis house alone, tear tracks down your face and a soiled picnic blanket and basket full of food in your hands.

You were about to climb the stairs to your room when you heard talking and a burst of laughter coming from the kitchen area.

You stormed into the room, realizing it was the time your house normally sat down for dinner. Everyone was there. And so was Fabian, coincidentally seated at the dining table right next to Nina.

“I can’t believe you!” you screamed, storming through the doorway to stand in front of Fabian and Nina.

“You have the nerve to ignore me and show up here, sitting next to her? I am tired of you treating me like this!” you huffed, dropping the picnic basket onto the kitchen counter.

You had borrowed the picnic basket from Trudy, along with spending the entire afternoon making sandwiches and finger foods in a pitiful attempt to win back your boyfriend’s attention.

“(y/n), please—“ Fabian began, standing up in his seat. He had a conflicted but also confused look on his face. You wanted to slap him across the face.

“No, I’m done! I’ve given you multiple opportunities and you still chose Nina at every turn! I’m done letting you break my heart!” you yelled, voice cracking.

“B-but (y/n), I love you!” Fabian cried, attempting to take a step towards you.

Jerome watched gleefully at the soap opera unfolding in front of him, until he was grabbed by the arm.

“Well that’s too bad, because I’m in love with Jerome! He actually cares about me and has time for me. Plus, he’s an amazing kisser,” you stated, hand clutching Jerome’s upper arm.

You were not prepared for the reactions that erupted from various spots in the kitchen and living room. Patricia’s eyes grew wide as she attempted to hold back a laugh. Alfie stared at Jerome, wondering why his best friends hadn’t informed him that he was now kissing the girl he’d always fantasized about. Nina looked like she was about to cry, and tears were clouding Fabian’s eyes as his jaw dropped.

“I never want to talk to you again, Fabian. Jerome, let’s go,” you said, grinning and pulling him with you towards the stairs. As you led him up the stairs, Jerome smiled to himself. He was fully satisfied with what had just resulted through his own manipulations.

“That’s my girl,” Jerome cheered as you both entered your room, “now we can be together forever.”

#jerome clarke x reader #house of anubis x reader #jerome clarke imagine #house of anubis imagine #yandere house of anubis #yandere jerome clarke

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ragingpancake · 3 years

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The Road to Nowhere Leads to Me

Summary: Following the events of The Siege, John just wants to get some sleep. Rodney has something to say first though. It’s over. He doesn’t delude himself into thinking that the peace will last because at the end of the day, they’re still vastly outnumbered by the Wraith, but in this moment, after 3 days, it’s over. Atlantis has taken damage; he can feel her hurt thrumming through his veins and he tries to tell Elizabeth as much but he can see that she’s just as worn out as the rest of them. “We already have back up teams on their way back from the mainland,” she assures him. Those that they’d evacuated out of the city for their own safety. “We’ll have them start seeing to the repairs.” She rests a hand on his shoulder. “You did good, John,” she says and she squeezes a little bit. “Could have done without the attempted suicide mission, but—” he doesn’t twitch at the mention of his own near death, but he does miss the rest of what she’s saying. “John?” He blinks, her face coming back into focus. “Go get some rest. You’ve earned it.” How can he argue with that?

--- It’s not until he gets back to his quarters that he realizes what a toll that last few days have actually taken on him. He doesn’t remember the last time he slept, when any of them slept, and now that he’s in the sanctuary of his own room, he realizes just how stiff his muscles have gone from holding himself so rigid, from remaining a pillar of strength, no matter his own fears. And he had been afraid. He had been, because for the first time since his mom died, he had a family now and he’s not stupid enough to not realize just how close he’d come to almost losing them all. John kicks off his boots and he heads over to the bed, dropping down on the edge of it. He knows he should shower, wash some of the grime, the stench of battle and death, away but now that he’s down, he’s not sure he has the strength to get up again. So of course there’s a loud, insistent knock on his door. He thinks for a moment about ignoring it but his sense of duty won’t allow it and so even though it takes every bit of the last of his reserves, he pushes himself to his feet and makes his way across the room to palm the door open. “McKay,” he greets and the other fidgets uncomfortably, fingers clenching and unclenching in a way that John knows is mostly involuntary and he’d much rather focus on that than the almost angry look on Rodney’s face. “Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” “Shut up,” Rodney snaps and he shoulders himself into John’s room, pacing from one end to the other. John turns to him, the door sliding closed behind him. “Oh yeah, of course, c’mon in,” he says sarcastically and he’s too tired for this. He’s so tiredthat he can’t think straight and that’s never a good thing, especially when McKay is around. John needs to be sharp, he needs to be focused. “What do you want, Rodney?” For a moment, Rodney says nothing at all. He just continues his pacing until finally, he stops, and John knows that look too; it’s the one Rodney wears when he finally works out whatever problem he’s attempting to solve, usually under duress. “I thought you died,” he says finally. “You, you, you just got up and you ran off and I watched that nuke blow. Do you have any idea what that was like?” “Can we do this later?” John asks uncomfortably. He’s not ready for this conversation. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be ready, though he’s certain there’s going to be some ordered sessions with Heightmeyer once things settle down, to discuss his apparently overwhelming, self-sacrificing need to save the day. He’s got a headache just thinking about it. “No, we cannot do this later!” Rodney says, hands clenched into fists at his sides. “What if there hadn’t been a ‘later’, Major? If Caldwell had showed up a single second later than he did--.” “But he didn’t, okay? He didn’t. I’m here, and I’m fine and--.” He doesn’t get a chance to finish because all of a sudden, Rodney is on him, shoving him back against the wall and he’s about to ask just what the fuckRodney thinks he’s doing when all of a sudden there are lips pressing against his and—oh. Okay. This is unexpected. He doesn’t fight it, he lets Rodney press into him until finally, finally, he breaks away with what almost sounds like a quiet whimper. “Rodney…” “It, it, it occurred to me, once you’d run off with nothing more than a so long, Rodney,” John winces at that, “that I couldn’t continue to just… pretend that I don’t.. feel something for you.” “What do you mean?” “I care about you, Major—John,” he corrects himself. “And that’s not easy for a person like me to admit, especially to you, because, because I’m me and you’re you, but we’re in the middle of a war. One that is not likely to end well, and I just—you do these stupid things like throwing yourself into harm’s way and you almost died and if you had and I’d never told you, well, I don’t know that I would have been able to forgive myself. For not, you know, trying.” This is a lot to take in. “For not trying to what?” “To, to, you know, tell you that you’re not as dispensable as you seem to think you are. That you mean

something to someone… to, to me.” “Rodney--.” “And it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way!” Rodney continues, steamrolling right over him and he’s back to pacing again. It’s making John a little dizzy, but he thinks he owes Rodney this, to hear him out. “I don’t expect things to change or, or, or for you to feel the same way but I had to tell you. I hope… I hope you understand.” He stops then and turns to face John, chin tipped up stubbornly. “So, now that I’ve… thoroughly embarrassed myself, I’ll just be,” he gestures vaguely to the door. “I’m sorry, Rodney,” John says and Rodney’s face falls so quickly that even someone as slow at this kind of thing as John is, he knows he immediately said the wrong thing. “No, no! Not for, not because I don’t… I just--.” He lets out a frustrated growl before he grabs Rodney by the front of his shirt and pulls him in so that he can kiss him, actually kiss him sometime. When they break apart, John murmurs gently against him, “I’m sorry that I didn’t do that sooner,” he clarifies. “Wait, so you…?” “Yeah, Rodney. I do.” “Oh thank God,” and Rodney slumps against him then, clearly out of steam, and it’s all John can do to hold him upright. “Alright, alright,” John says and he somehow manages to manhandle Rodney over to the bed before he crouches down to help him take his shoes off. “I think there’s probably a lot we’re gonna have to figure out from here, but first… how about a nap?” “That’s the second best thing I’ve heard all day.” And John laughs at that. “Yeah. Me too, buddy.” --- The beds in Atlantis were not made for two people; especially not two grown ass men, but as they lay there, pressed up against one another, Rodney already snoring quietly, John feels something shift slightly inside of him. He’s gone on a lot of suicide missions and there are always so many thoughts, so many feelings that him afterward, but not quite like this. He would put his life on the line for anyone who needed him to, without a moment’s hesitation (or a real goodbye), but for the first time… Well, he’s never been quite so glad that someone had been there to pull his ass out of the fire as he was now. Maybe he’ll send Colonel Caldwell a fruit basket. And it’s with that thought that he turns onto his side, draping one arm over Rodney’s middle as he noses his face against the other’s neck and promptly, thankfully, falls asleep.

#sga fic #mcshep #john sheppard/rodney mckay #john sheppard #rodney mckay #sga #stargate atlantis #i have no idea how long of a time frame that episode spanned but we're gonna call it three days and be done with it #soz not soz

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aka-indulgence · 3 years

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Stealing You for a Moment

Commissioned by @yeosin-n !!

Thanks for commissioning me you cutie ;>

Ao3 link

(US!Sans/Reader ... and UT!Sans/Reader)

(There’s polyamory in this, only reader and Sans and not between hims!)

Blue is tired of not having enough private time with you.

So he kidnaps you for a date (again?!).

(like said, there’s Fake kidnapping in this! He just steals you for a date really. Also suggestive themes! Fluffy, but also Blue gets pretty hot and smooch-y!)

“I’VE GOT YOU NOW, MY DEAR...” A voice says in your ear.

You’re pulled flush against your captor’s chest, and you’re squirming a little against the arms that were holding you.

Request* by yeo_sin! She wanted fluff with US!Sans while also throwing in a bit of "chill" kidnapping because hey, I can't complain about a bit of fictional kidnapping uwu

It had been any other day. You were at home, walking through a hallway when your skin pricked from the sudden presence you felt behind you. Gloved hands had come over your face before you tried to turn to look at your sudden visitor. It covered your face and mouth, stopping any scream you’d thought to let out.

You’d be panicking, screaming and hitting at the man who held you if you didn’t know there were only 4 skeletons in this world... even if his hands were gloved, you could feel the bone over his clothes.

Oh... what is he up to this time? You thought, withholding a sigh.

“IT’S BEEN ENTIRELY TOO LONG SINCE I’VE HAD THE CHANCE TO JUST BE... ALONE WITH YOU, AND I’M TIRED OF IT.” the ‘mysterious skeleton’ spoke against your ear, his teeth brushing your skin and making you tingle.

“IT’S TIME I TAKE MATTERS INTO MY OWN HANDS.” you felt his smile against your cheek, and he pulled you as he took a step back. You feel the air shift around you, the still air of your home suddenly replaced with light wind brushing your skin.

He must be in one of those moods if Blue was actually using his often-neglected ability to teleport. Blue slides his hands off your face, trailing over your back and brushing your arms before one of

them settles on your shoulder, pulling you close.

You open your eyes to see that he’s brought you to a pond park, sunlight glimmering on quiet, calm waters in the middle, pond reeds sticking out of with lots of grass surrounding it. You hear the sound of nature, chirping birds and buzzing bugs around you.

You’re too busy looking at the pretty scenery and the breath of fresh air to realize that Blue’s hands are on your wrist, with you pulling them away when you felt something hard and cool on them- followed by a click.

“Blue, what-” you exclaim, feeling a tug on your hand when you try to yank your hand away from him. You look down to see there’s a hand-cuff on your wrist(???), connecting your right hand to Blue’s left.

You give him a puzzling look, and Blue only chuckles in response. He brings his free hand to your face, ever so gently cupping your cheek to tilt your face up, and kisses you. You close your eyes and melt into it (it’d take a lot to make you reject a kiss from him ), enjoying the way his teeth shifts against your lips.

“LIKE I SAID BEFORE, MY DEAR...” he murmurs heatedly against your lips, “I’VE MISSED YOU.”

Blue pulls away from you, to look at how red your face had become, practically having swirly eyes from the kiss.

“I GROW TIRED OF ALWAYS BEING INTERRUPTED BY OTHERS WHEN I’M TRYING TO JUST BE ALONE WITH YOU, ALWAYS HAVING SOMEONE ELSE AROUND, GETTING IN THE WAY...” he holds your chin with his fingers, brushing your jaw.

There’s an ominous glow in his eyelights “I CAN BE PATIENT WHEN I NEED TO BE. But,” he lowers his voice, “When It Comes To You, My Beloved (Y/n), I Find My Patience To Be Lacking.”

He smirks, brushing your hair behind your ears, and it takes everything in you not to squeak, bringing your free hand to cover your practically-tomato face. Your heart was going badonkers in your chest, and you bite your lip to make a restrained ‘Mmmf!!’ sound.

You try and fail to ignore the shivers going through you from how intensely Blue seems to be staring at you, and cool your face down. You give him a glance and lid your eyelids at your kidnapping skeleton.

“Oh yeah? What’re you gonna do?” ‘This time?’ you leave the addition in your mind, unsaid. You blink prettily at him, looking from under your lashes, trying to look coy. It apparently works, because when Blue looks at you, his grin twitches dangerously upwards.

“ARE YOU CHALLENGING ME? YOU KNOW THAT’S NOT A GOOD IDEA.” He grabs ahold of your hands and leans in closer to your face. “I’M GOING TO GIVE US A

GOOD TIME...” He tugs you along, being all mysterious and sinister, and shows you exactly what he has in store

for you, which... Is this a picnic?

A classic picnic setup was in front of you. A red and white plaid blanket spread open neatly over the grass, a wicker basket on its corner with one of the lids opened, with some of its contents already on display in the middle. They looked delicious too, with colorful fruits, bread and jam on the side.

You wanted to take a picture- it just looked like the perfect picnic in a scenic park!- but you didn’t have your phone with you when Blue abducted you, which you realize was probably part of his scheme.

You doubt Blue would appreciate you being on your phone when he was trying to have some quality “kidnapping” time with you.

“Oh no, Blue!” you pretend to sound appalled, holding back a snicker, “you’re stealing me and someone else’s picnic? You scoundrel.”

Your comment catches Blue off guard as he breaks character, his menacing face falling into laughter.

“WHAT? I’M NOT SOME, PETTY LITTLE THIEF! HAHAHAH!” you admire how handsome he looked when he smiled like that, “YOU MUST KNOW THAT I’M A MUCH CLASSIER SKELETON THAN THAT, SUNSHINE, UNLESS THIS REALLY MEANS YOU NEED TO SPEND MORE TIME WITH ME. ONLY THE BEST IS GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOU, FROM THE VERY BEST.”

You giggle, knowing that this skeleton was well backed with evidence to attest to that. After the culinary-enthusiast skeleton’s lessons a while back his cooking has been nothing short of amazing,

and you feel lucky to be able to eat his cooking regularly; especially since he loves cooking for you.

Blue leads you to the blanket and brings you to sit down on it- and by that, it means that he sits down suddenly, bringing you down with him- ending up with you caught in his crossed legs.

You look up at him. “Ah... heheh... I should...” you push lightly against his chest, pursing your lips; knowing your cheeks must be pink. You practically crawl out from between his legs, but before you can make any space between him and you, Blue holds your arm and pulls you against his side.

“WHY ARE YOU MOVING AWAY, (Y/N)? COME ON, YOU KNOW THERE’S NO NEED TO BE SHY WITH ME,” his cuffed hand holds yours, “GET COMFORTABLE. I CAN’T STAND BEING APART FROM YOU, EVEN IF IT’S A LITTLE BIT.”

Your heart flutters a little from how affectionate he’s being; though he isn’t bigger than you, somehow you feel like you’ve shrunk next to him. You try to laugh it off, “Hah, well, I mean I don’t mind but, don’t you think people are going to- mrrf!”

Blue had put a strawberry against your lips, holding onto its leaves. He’s giving you that smug look again- that expression when he knows you like what he’s doing. You tentatively take a bite of it, chewing slowly and tasting the juice as it breaks down in your mouth.

“You Know I Don’t Care About Anyone Seeing This, My Loved,” he winks at you, his voice slow and deliberate.

You swallow your strawberry hard and laugh nervously. “Oh... please don’t kill me like this,” you sigh, covering your face, “I can only handle so much.”

Blue chuckles, pulling the plate with the bread on it and the jar next to it. He leans in closer to you, “Cute.” and gives you a peck on the head.

You make a little squeak and slap his femur, which makes him laugh even harder.

“I’m gonna die, Blue,” you say dramatically, taking another strawberry to gnaw on. “Goodbye... this is the end for me,”

Blue snickers, and you miss him rolling his eyelights a little when you’re slouched against him, pretending to pass out. He jostles you a little and says “HEY, YOU CAN’T DIE NOW. DON’T YOU WANT TO SEE THE TEA SET I’VE BROUGHT FOR US?”

That wakes you up pretty much instantly, eyes sparkling at your boyfriend. “You brought a tea set!?”

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

Teacups and saucers were set in front of you, the porcelain pot in the middle, still steaming from its airhole and its spout. Next to it was a fancy three-tier cake stand, with an assortment of baked goods. A plate with half eaten bread was in front of you, and Blue was pouring himself a glass of fizzy cider.

You were both quiet, looking at the people, monsters, animals that were around the park.

A squirrel skittered across the grass to another tree with another following suit. Ducks were waddling into the pond while dragonflies were flying above it. You saw couples walking hand in hand near the reeds, a pair of friends eating on some sort of blue ice cream ( Oh, was there nice cream around here? ). A bird lands near your blanket, curiously hopping towards you and pecking on some invisible crumbs before flying away.

The tea was delightfully fragrant as you took a sip, watching a bee buzzing around some small flowers, taking some nectar and pollen before flying away.

Your eyes were drawn away when you felt your left hand get picked up by the handcuff. Blue brought his hand over to your shoulder and looked like he wanted to sling it around your neck, but you saw the look on his face when he noticed that your hand was being brought along with his. With his brows furrowed and staring at the cuffs as if it had just offended him made you imagine what kind of thoughts he must be having.

‘CURSE THESE CHAINS! I’VE BEEN BETRAYED BY MY OWN GENIUS PLAN!’

Blue’s eyelights glanced over to you when you giggle, his brows relaxing.

“WHAT?”

You wave your hand though you were still smiling, putting your teacup back down. “No no, it’s just...” you gather your breath, “It seems your plans aren’t so foolproof. You must be swearing yourself that you can’t hold me the way you wanted to, huh?”

“NO, OF COURSE I EXPECTED THIS. I LIKE THESE HANDCUFFS,” Blue insists, “I HAD ONLY FORGOTTEN ABOUT THIS PARTICULAR SETBACK BECAUSE I WAS DISTRACTED BY THIS PLEASANT PICNIC!”

“Aww Blue, don’t be... Blue!” you giggle, missing his sudden change in expression when you made that, “You know you could always just take off the handcuffs.”

Blue raises a brow bone at you. “OH, MY SWEET, WERE YOU ATTEMPTING TO TRICK ME INTO TAKING THE HANDCUFFS OFF FOR YOU?”

“Wh-what? No! I mean, it’s not like I’m going to try to run away from you.” Blue doesn’t seem convinced. “YES, OF COURSE YOU WOULDN’T...” You level him with a slightly peeved look and pout. “Yes, I’m sure I w-”

“YOU KNOW, IF YOU DID TRY, I WOULDN’T MIND. I WOULD LOVE TO PLAY A GAME OF TAG WITH YOU... I KNOW IT WOULD BE JUST FUN TO GET TO CHASE YOU AROUND.”

There’s a look of challenge in Blue’s eyelights, the look of a skeleton who knows that if you did “play tag”, he was going to win.

“You know what! Let’s keep wearing handcuffs.” you turn away, suddenly finding the tea leaves

at the bottom of your teacup very interesting. “I’m having a nice picnic, I don’t really want to get chased around by a spooky scary skeleton.”

Blue chuckles and gives your head a teeth-bonk, pouring more tea to your cup when you pick it up towards him.

You’re not sure if taking a sip of steaming tea is going to help your easily pink face.

“AH, (Y/N),” he sighs while you take a tart from the tiered stand, “ISN’T THIS NICE? GETTING TO BE ALONE TOGETHER, JUST THE TWO OF US.”

“Yeah, this was really fun Blue,” you take a bite out of your tart, “I’m sure you’re enjoying kidnapping a girl just to take me out for a picnic...”

You shrug at him. “You know, you could’ve just asked.”

“THAT’S TRUE. BUT,” Blue tilts his skull at you, “YOU KNOW YOU’RE LYING TO YOURSELF IF YOU SAY YOU DON’T ENJOY IT WHEN I STEAL YOU AWAY FOR THESE MOMENTS.”

You absolutely do not choke on what you’re munching on because of that, because it’s not true and Blue’s the one lying.

“Mm... hmmm.....” you opt to just making vague sounds, finishing about a quarter of your tart in a bite.

Ohhh bad idea , you thought to yourself, drinking the tea to down the snack more easily down your throat.

Peeking from behind the cup, you see Blue pointing at your face. “OH, (Y/N), YOU’VE GOT SOMETHING ON YOUR...”

“Hm?” you sound, licking behind the residue tea around your lips. “Did I get it?”

“NO NO, IT’S STILL THERE,” Blue frowns, “HERE, LET ME GET IT FOR YOU.”

He reaches for you, only to miss your face and instead of going into your hair behind your head, and leans in close.

You put your hands against his chest and squeak, “B-Blue, what are you doing!!”

“YOUR TONGUE’S NOT LONG ENOUGH,” Blue smirks as he easily pushes against you, “I’M SIMPLY TRYING TO HELP.”

You squeal as Blue topples you over and he gets on top of you (SOMEONE SAVE ME) and kisses you, feeling his tongue skirting over your lips to ‘clean you up’ before quickly slipping into your mouth and making you feel warm.

“A-aaah Blue!” you yelp as he moves to pepper kisses all over your face, on your cheek, your forehead, “S-stop aaah!”

“MMMM,” he hums in between kisses, “YOU’RE JUST TOO CUTE, (Y/N), YOU CAN’T EXPECT ME TO STOP,”

You feel him smile, holding your hands and interlocking fingers.

“Eeep!” you peep, when you feel him kissing on your neck, slow, warm breaths against your clavicle. A part of you was reeling at the fact that he was being so- so!! Like this with you, right now, where anyone could so easily see you, but another part of you...

Who cares?

He certainly won’t stop just to be decent around other people in his private time with you, and you didn’t exactly want him to stop either.

Blue kisses you until you feel like your face is on fire, finally pushing himself off of you and pulling your hand to sit you up like a proper gentleman.

“I TOLD YOU, YOU’RE NOT GOING ANYWHERE,” he gives you another tug so you fall into his chest face first, hands forced to grip onto him, “NOT EVEN PULLING AWAY FROM A KISS!”

I take back ‘proper gentleman’ , you thought, pushing slightly against Blue’s shirt so your face wasn’t squished up against it.

The remainder of the picnic has you trying to peacefully eat your food while Blue keeps teasing you, though thankfully for your heart, he was merciful enough not to try to fluster you more than you already have.

(To be honest, you’re pretty sure he’s saving that for later.) When the plates have nothing but crumbs on them, the teapot no longer steams, you and Blue

decide to just bring the rest of the cider home.

You try to help out with cleaning up, but Blue had insisted on cleaning up himself. Halfway through you asking “How are you going to clean up while you’re handcuffed to me”, he had efficiently put the bigger objects back in the basket, stacking plates and putting the tea set back in its place. He simply plopped you on the grass to fold the blanket one-hand, and soon enough he had neatly put everything in the basket.

“DON’T UNDERESTIMATE ME, I AM NOT MY BROTHER!” Blue proudly said.

Now, he had taken your hand, basket in the other, and you were walking along the trail around the pond.

Both of you had simply ignored any weird looks and double-takes when people had passed by and spotted the handcuffs; even when you wanted to react, Blue had turned you to face him (“PAY ATTENTION TO ME, (Y/N),” with a meaningful smile on his face).

When he was satisfied with your attention, you looked at the pond. You had gotten slightly distracted by the quacking ducks, ducklings peeping and looking like they wiggled through the water, when you were rudely tugged by the handcuff to Blue’s side.

“Hey!” you protest as your feet caught up to you, “what was that for?”

“YOU WERE GETTING TOO FAR THERE, SUNSHINE!” Blue warns, a little too cheerful that you know he’s playing the part of ‘possessive kidnapper’ again. “BE A DUCKLING AND FOLLOW ME CLOSELY, ALRIGHT?”

You snorted a little. “It sounds less intimidating when you call me a duckling, Blue. And I wasn’t getting that far!”

“I CAN’T LOSE A SINGLE PRECIOUS MOMENT OF ALONE TIME WITH YOU, DARLING!” Blue proclaims, “AND AS I TOLD YOU, I LIKE THESE HANDCUFFS.”

He demonstrates by tugging your wrist closer to his face, then taking your hand to kiss your knuckles. It surprised a fluster laugh at you, eyes darting away for a moment to see if anyone was looking.

No one was, thank goodness.

You did however, see a Nice Cream vendor nearby, and this time you tugged on Blue to bring his attention to it.

“Nice Cream, Blue! Can we get some?” you put on your pleading face, in case Blue insisted on tugging you along this walk, but it seemed you didn’t need to.

Blue chuckled, “YES, OF COURSE! ANYTHING FOR MY SPECIAL GIRLFRIEND.”

You approach the cart and Blue gets you one Nice Cream, saying that “I DON’T NEED A NICE CREAM TO FEEL NICE, WHEN I HAVE YOU WITH ME!” that had made you both giggle and flush in the slightest. It was obvious the bunny vendor that handed you the sweet treat was eyeing the handcuffs, but to his credit he had withdrawn any weird faces he was about to make and was perfectly polite and cheerful.

“THANK YOU!” Blue waved to him as he walked with you again, then quietly, “My, I’m Still Not Used To Him Being So Cheerful...”

You laugh at the weird face Blue makes and take a bite of your bar of nice cream. You have the sudden impression that you look cute today!

Blue gives you a quizzical look when you put a hand over your face. As if he hasn’t told me that enough today!

Before Blue asks you what that was, you ask him, “How do you keep finding these places anyway, Blue?” you turn to him, sucking on your ice cream a little, “it just seems like... you have to go through so much just to find a place for a date?”

Blue sighs. “YOU KNOW VERY WELL WHY I GO THROUGH ALL THE EFFORT TO FIND THESE PLACES! OF COURSE, OTHER THAN MY DATE DESERVING THE BEST , I ALSO CAN’T LET HIM GET IN MY WAY. AS TO HOW I FIND THESE PLACES, WELL... I’D LIKE TO KEEP MY SECRETS AS SECRETS!” He gives you a wink.

“YOU JUST ENJOY IT,” Blue tells you, looking up at the sky as it starts to color with yellows. “THOUGH THE DAY IS LATE. WHAT DO YOU THINK OF CALLING IT A DATE AND GOING HOME?”

“Yeah, I think I’m good.” You nod, “Though, can you take off the ha-?”

You get cut off as your hair stands on its ends when there’s a sudden, familiar , burst of magic in front of you.

Sans stands in front of you, panting in the slightest, the line under his sockets looking especially prominent. He doesn’t look happy as he gives the both of you a once over, looking less so when he sees the handcuff that links you to Blue.

He marches over to you, and Blue raises an innocent hand. “OH HI, S-” “playtime’s over, blue.” He mutters angrily, grabbing the handcuffs and breaking the chains, just

like that.

“i’ve been looking for you all day,” he grumbles, prying open your cuffs forcefully and ignoring Blue’s pleas (“MY HANDCUFFS!”), “do you know how many shortcuts i had to take before i saw you buying nice cream just now?”

“TOO MUCH FOR YOU TO HANDLE, SANS?” Blue pokes his counterpart, met with a look that’s too tired to be a glare.

“blue,” Sans sighs and puts his phalanges against his forehead, before flicking them away and emphatically saying, “you always do this, why??”

Sans and Blue have sort of been having an ‘arm’s race’, in the way that Blue always looks for new places to take you out on dates, and Sans keeps trying to beat him to it so he wouldn’t keep abducting you. Needless to say, at the moment it seems that Sans hasn’t had much luck in ‘winning’.

“WHAT, I CAN’T STEAL OUR GIRLFRIEND FOR JUST A DAY?”

“you’ve clearly been doing this for more than ‘just a day', blue,” Sans sighs, holding onto your hand.

“YOU KNOW YOU HAVE NOTHING TO WORRY ABOUT, SANS. YOU’RE ALWAYS SO PARANOID!” Blue mentions casually, “YOU KNOW NO HARM’S GOING TO BEFALL OUR DEAR HUMAN WHEN I’M WITH HER. ARE YOU WORRIED I’M GOING TO STEAL HER ONE DAY AND NEVER RETURN HER? JEEZ, YOU WORRYWART. YOU’RE GOING TO TEMPT ME!”

“blue, no, ” Sans actually looks slightly distressed (but not too much that you get really worried), “please don’t. i love her, can you just... not kidnap her for a date? what am i supposed to do when i see her phone, unattended, and the owner nowhere to be found?”

“AW, SANS, I COULD LEAVE YOU A STICKY NOTE YOU CAN’T IGNORE NEXT TIME. IT’LL SAY, ‘I’ve Got The Girl, If You Want Her Back Give Me Money’,”

“if you do that, i swear, you won’t be having such a ‘good time’ when i steal her for a change-”

“Ok, ok, that’s enough,” you put your hands on both their chests, before they stop joking and start a fight or something. “You both know of this word called ‘sharing’? I’ve got enough time for the both of you! We’ll have our own date next time, Sans,” you reassure your tired boyfriend, “and we can have a group date too. Please don’t start murdering each other, I like it when you guys play along,”

Sans and Blue trade looks, and both agree that what you proposed sounds quite attractive. Blue reaches for your hand, but Sans pulls you away from him and to his ribcage.

“HEY! I CAN’T HOLD MY GIRLFRIEND’S HAND?” “she’s my girlfriend too, and i think i deserve some time with her after you kidnapped her. again.”

Sans looks more ‘done’ than he does actually angry at Blue that it makes you laugh, and Blue only shrugs at you.

“I SUPPOSE I’LL HAVE TO LOOK FOR A NEW PLACE SOON...”

#commission #commissions #sans x reader #us!sans x reader #i keep forgetting... how to tag on tumblr #also hi yeo ily

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sleeperswakewriting · 3 years

Note

Emily don't bonk me! But if you can save this request for the future I will appreciate it 🥺 what if ghost levi has a fight with her petra and somehow he ends in kindred spirits verse and scares cottagecore petra 😆 and they bond over life because she had a fight with her postman levi + tea + pancakes (no horny though but i ship them now ahaha❤️)

oh gosh, this was SO self-indulgent, I could never bonk you, Matri 💕no horny times ahead, this is all fluff. I think I ship it now too??

Rating: G

Word Count: 1.6k

The time in the multiverse had come to an end with each Levi and Petra returning to their universes. For most of the couples, it was like a bad dream (the Levis would attest to this) and for others, it was like an awakened fantasy (see: The Petras).

Therapist Petra in particular had a lazy smile on her face as she recounted the ridiculousness of the whole matter.

“This just affirms that we’re meant to be soulmates! We’re meant to be in every universe,” she sighed to her Levi over their nightly tea. As usual, he sat across from her at the dinner table while she ate and he observed.

“Did you have a good time with Fire Alarm Levi?” Levi asked, his color growing more opaque. While Petra didn’t need his permission, she graciously asked and requested for him to watch so that she could pretend it was him. Fire Alarm, the freaky bastard he was, didn’t mind roleplaying for Petra, and hot jealously turned the tips of his ears pink.

Petra poked at her oatmeal while she blushed. “Of course I did. He’s you.”

Scowling, Levi’s stare bored into hers, “Obviously not. He’s the one with the dick.”

“Stop it,” Petra snapped, her tone uncharacteristic as shame welled in her stomach. “You told me it was okay. And if you remember correctly, I was envisioning you the entire time.”

“He looks exactly like me, of course you were! Bet if you had the chance to visit, you would.”

Petra chewed the inside of her lip, the taste of the oatmeal losing all its flavor. “Can we drop it? I love you and I had the chance to be with you physically.” Petra’s watch vibrated and her eyes widened as she looked at the time. “Shoot, I have to go. See you at dinner.” And she gave an airy kiss to his head, her lips passing through, and Levi could feel himself growing smaller.

“Love you too,” he grumbled and watched the love of his life whisk away into the real world.

He paced. He was too restless to draw, too early to cook, and there was little to garden with the chillier air of autumn setting its course.

He was such a pathetic excuse of a man. Why did he end up without a body while the rest of the Levis were rich, got regularly laid, and at least could go on a real date?!

Levi floated back and forth in the living room and eventually settled to people watch on their balcony. The world looked so small from up here and it comforted him. He liked seeing the sky touch the horizon, the buildings cascading like a rolling wave, and the infrastructure of the city. Petra mentioned there was a beach town not too far from here, he wondered what it would be like to take her there.

Immediately, the image of her in a bikini made him color, and Levi drifted off into a daydream, his vision becoming muddled with the sound of a sea breeze and the honking of a ship horn.

“Levi! Come back, please.” It was Petra’s voice. Except it was softer, less confident, and longing dripped from every word.

“I have to go, do we need anything in town?”

Floor boards creaked while Petra moved and their voices became muffled again.

“…okay. See you later.”

“Bye.”

Regaining his senses, Levi recognized this place from the multiverse, except it was real.

It was Petra’s cottage.

And there was cottage Petra, standing outside her house, crying into a handkerchief.

Not wanting to scare her, but not knowing how else to make his presence known, he coughed.

A bright smile formed on Petra’s face and she turned around, expecting to see her Levi, but gaped as she saw him.

“Ghost Levi?” she squeaked. “How did you get here?”

He shrugged. “Not sure. Was imaging a calm place and I guess all your stories of the island made me think of here.” He looked to the used handkerchief in her hand. “You okay?”

Petra sniffed and turned her head to the side. “I got into a fight with my Levi.” She shuffled on her feet, clearly uncomfortable, but politeness wore through. “Do you want to come inside? I can show you around.”

He entered the tiny house and it looked like something out of Petra’s TLC shows. Except it was authentic, and he remembered that Cottage Petra was from the 1960s. It was curious since Levi and Petra had relatives that were very much alive during this time and they must literally be from a different universe. He listened with an attentive ear as Petra flitted about the home. Adoration was evident from how she lovingly described every inch, every meaningful item, and then they settled into the kitchen.

Her tears were long dried and forgotten while she spoke to him of her latest baking ventures, and he eagerly added onto her dialogue, enjoying prodding her mind for new recipes to try for his Petra.

“I love that you cook!” She said earnestly, donning her apron, then her face fell. “Wait, you can’t eat, right?”

Levi laughed. “Nope. But why don’t you sit back and let me cook for you? Do you like pancakes?”

Discarding her apron, Petra situated herself on a kitchen stool, fascinated that someone besides herself was cooking in her house.

“I make buttermilk all the time for me and my Levi. He doesn’t have as much as a sweet tooth as me, but we like to use up our fresh fruits.”

And so Levi did what he did best and began to cook. He could see Petra’s fingers twitching as she watched him assemble the ingredients, and with a smirk, he gestured her over. “You can mix if you want.”

Tying her apron with ease, Petra popped beside him, a smile so wide on her face that it could break his dead heart. She put on a record, the vintage tunes not usually Levi’s style, but it felt right with Petra beside him as she idly hummed and danced along to the music in her socks.

“Do you like raspberries?” she asked him, though realized the question was silly as soon as she queried. He pretended to be offended, went as far as to pool into the floor like the batter they were mixing, and Petra shrieked.

“Levi! I’m so sorry!” She wailed, collapsing to her knees to assist him despite his corporeal form.

Laughing echoed in the cottage as he fixed himself. “Sorry, I had to,” he said, taking the basket of raspberries from her hands. “I like messing with people. Life gets kind of boring when you’re me.”

“I think you’re fascinating!”

A blush rose to face, though only noticeable from his opaqueness, and he silently added the raspberries into the mixture, stirring them idly. Petra watched him, her lips pursing while her foot tapped, and Levi sighed in amusement.

“Have something to say?”

“You have to make sure you mix the fruit evenly,” Petra blurted, and Levi finished with her, “Or else the fruit will sink to the bottom and you’ll get a soggy bottom.”

She gave a shy smile. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep.”

He shook his head, “It’s nice having someone else to cook with.” A long pause passed between them. “Is everything okay with you and your Levi? You looked upset when I arrived.”

Petra went scarlet and Levi’s eyebrows rose to the top of his head. She fiddled with her skirts and began to anxiously mix the pancake batter while she started the gas on the stove.

“Oh, uh, we’re fine,” she stuttered cutely.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he offered.

She shook her head as she poured batter onto the pan, the sizzling mixing with the music. “I don’t think Levi would appreciate it. It’s, uh, personal.”

Levi flashbacked to their personal time in the multiverse, and he gave a low cough. “I might be an exception to that. As my Petra likes to remind me, we’re all just parts of each other.”

Biting her lip, Petra stared at the pancake with unnecessary meticulousness. “Well,” she began in a soft voice, “I want to try for a baby. After hearing Fire Alarm Petra talk about her work as a teacher, it got me thinking how much I want to be a mother. My Levi got upset because he thought I wanted to have a kid with Fire Alarm Levi because Fire Alarm and I,” and she halted, her face going an even deeper shade of red while she said just above a whisper, “you know.”

He did know because he was part of it, but Levi spared her the embarrassment and floated beside her. He took the ladle from her hand and gently set to the side while he looked into her honey eyes. “You would make a great mother,” he assured her. “Any Petra would.”

Her eyes glistened. “Really?”

“Absolutely,” Levi said, reaching for the ladle and exchanged places. “And speaking of Fire Alarm, my Petra and I got into a fight about him. Dude’s a trouble maker.”

Petra shuffled while a gooey smile came to her face, clearly enamored with the rich man, but Levi chose to tamper his jealously while he finished off another pancake.

“Want to talk about it?” Petra asked, reaching for her kettle. “You said you liked to smell tea. I make my own brews sometimes.”

Instantly, the comfort of Petra’s home had Levi sharing all of his worries, and before they knew it, the sun had begun to descend, and several cups of tea had been finished off. They sat side by side in the meadow while Levi drank in the sunshine and reveled in the quiet.

Maybe he found a kindred spirit in this strange predicament.

#rivetra #rivetra fanfiction #levi x petra #my fics

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alicemitch09writes · 3 years

Text

last love

pairing: Kuroo Tetsurou x reader

summary: Nothing was the same anymore, that much was clear. But it is really? Is it really too late for it all?

author’s notes: This is the final part to the first love trilogy. Please go read the first one, then its sequel - skinny love, before this, otherwise you’ll be confused.

also available on ao3.

disclaimer: i own NOTHING but the plot.

He wakes up with a start – sweating all over, heart pounding against his chest, sleep slowly washes over before realizing where he was and the humid heat that was summer gracing his room. He let out a relieved sigh, falling back into his sheets.

“Tetsuroo, wake up already!” came his mother’s voice, which resounded through the house.

The teen waited until his heart calmed to finally get out of bed, still drenched in sweat. A mirror stood across him, revealing his image – still the same gangly guy with serious bed hair, but his eyes still looked tired, even though his bags had lessened.

Grabbing a towel, he takes a quick shower.

He pretends to not have seen the look on his mother’s face when he wolfs on his breakfast, giving her a quick sloppy kiss on the cheek, before grabbing his bag and leaves.

His phone rings – a text message, he flips his phone and sees a text from his sister, quickly typing a reply before going to the music app. Plugging on his earphones, he begins to walk down a familiar path.

Leaning his head back, clear blue skies greet him. It was too much of a good day today.

Closing his eyes, he soaked up on the light, warming his face. When he opened them, the train station was in clear sight, his steps quickened.

Four stops and twelve blocks later, and he was walking down a place he’s grown familiar with the past few months. The grass was still greener, the flowers were much brighter, and the trees were tall as ever – maybe because it was summer. But the paint job was still terrible, even though they had maintenance work on them.

Upon entering the hospital, he nods at the nurses and staff – all of which, were used to his presence for the past months, adjusting the weight of his right arm, carrying his bag.

Kuroo Tetsturou fell into a routine – he woke up, got dressed, ate breakfast, made small talk with his parents or sister, and went to the hospital. It’s been that way for months.

He stood in front of the door, about to knock when he heard her – a soft strumming and singing.

“I love this place, but it’s haunted without you…”

He felt the familiar skip of his heart at the sound of her voice. Carefully pushing it open, he finds (Name), playing her ukulele, pen, and notebook on her lap.

“My tired heart is beating so slow,” A thoughtful look crosses her face as she sings as if testing the lyrics. She quickly sketches down on her notebook – chords, and lyrics, falling into her element. Picking her ukulele, she strummed slowly, trying the new lyrics – “Our hearts sing less than we wanted, we wanted, our hearts sing ‘cause we do not know, we do not know” – a small smile gracing her lips when they came out.

Without even knowing, his body moved on its own accord, stepping inside and towards her.

The song had a light melody to it, repetitive on the notes, yet strangely melancholic and full of longing. Yet somehow, unfinished. She stopped for a moment, stumped, before going over it again. Despite her minor slip up, she smiled through it and went over the song again – she was a perfectionist like that.

The sound of the door clicking broke the moment, (Name) looking up to find Kuroo standing in front of him, surprise written all over her face.

“H-Hey, (Name).” Kuroo says, lifting a hand in greeting.

She gives him a nod, awkwardly glances at him, then back to her notes.

“How’s your song going?”

She fiddles with the page, chewing on her bottom lip. “It’s coming.”

“I see.” He nods, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “By the way, I got something for you.” Putting his bag on the foot of her bed, he unzips it and takes out a pink package. “Sis bought some stuff for you, says you’ll be needing it once you get into college.”

Slowly, a smile forms on her face as she reached for it, Kuroo careful as to not let their fingers touch. “That’s nice of her.”

Sitting himself on the couch, he looked at the clutter of papers on the table – university brochures. “Have you decided on where to go? Or are you still bent on getting to where uncle is teaching?” he asked teasingly, especially on the last question, an attempt to lighten the mood.

Her lip curled by a fraction, hugging her instrument close. “…well, it is my dream school and all.”

Kuroo nods at that. “Well, knowing you, you’ll make it – with or without the influence of your dad.” She smiled at that, playing with the ends of her short hair. His eyes followed her fingers tangle in those (hair color) locks, remembering how strange it was to see her usual locks chopped off, of combing them when she was still unconscious.

A tense silence fills in – both teens staring at anything but each other, unsure of what to say next.

“How about you?”

Kuroo made a questioning hum.

“Keiji told me you’re yet to enroll into college,” there was her ever-present concerned tone, (eye color) eyes soft, yet, basing on her tone, there was no mistaking how carefully she had asked.

Peering up to her through his fringe, Kuroo contemplated on his next words. “I haven’t decided on a course yet.” He lied, shrugging offhandedly. “No worries, though, I’ve been working part-time.” That was half a lie, he had just started working at a small grocery store. A small distraction outside the four corners of his own home and the hospital.

Her brows furrowed slightly with worry before it eased away when a knock came from the door. Her doctor – a small middle-aged man named Dr. Ishioka peeked in, beaming at the sight of her.

“Good morning, (Last name)-chan.” Noticing she was not alone, he gave Kuroo a short nod. “And to you, too, Kuroo-kun.”

Kuroo returned the gesture, having been a familiar face in the hospital for the past few months.

“How are we today?”

“Good,” she smiled, still hugging her ukulele, forgetting her stationary in front of her. When her doctor noticed, he merely gave it a glance. Having finally noticed at what he was looking at, she started looking sheepish. “A-Ah, I was just writing my song!”

The doctor smiled kindly. “And how is it?”

“I-It’s coming,” she replied, using the same answer she gave Kuroo earlier. “I get stuck on words, and things are a little fuzzy to figure out.”

The man nods, hands buried deep in his pocket. “That’s good, getting some brainwork done. However, don’t stress yourself, okay? You’ve been asleep for six months, and it’ll still take some time for your body to get used to moving.”

“She won’t,” Kuroo says aloud, (Name) and Dr. Ishioka turns to him. “I’ll make sure of it.”

(Name) nods dutifully, finally putting down her instrument.

In his professional eyes, there clearly was an underlying tension between the two. Instead of pushing into it, he knew where his limits were.

“Well, that’s good to hear then. You’re in good hands, (Last name)-chan.”

The girl looks up to the doctor, who gives her a kind smile before leaving her a few instructions, which Kuroo was quick to take note of, before leaving.

Just as the door closed behind him, he heaved a sigh, wishing the best for the two.

“(Last name)-saaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan!” a loud, jolly voice erupted in the room, making a dash for the girl. Barely a step in, Yaku kicked him in the back, grabbing the tall teen by the collar and pulling him back. “Geh- “

“Lev, control yourself! This is a hospital, not a playground! Geez, it’s like taking care of a giant baby.” Meeting her gaze, he lifted a hand. “Yo, (Last name), you look well.”

She laughed, eyes soft at the sight of the Nekoma team filling her room. Kenma, sitting beside her, had his eyes stuck to his console per usual.

“(Last name),” Noboyuki nods, holding out a fruit basket. “we brought you fruits.”

Her smile grew, touched by the gesture. “Thank you, Kai!”

Kenma puts away his console and takes the fruit basket from the taller lad, putting it on a nearby table. He plucks an orange and disappears into the washroom, momentarily leaving (Name) with the Nekoma team.

“(Last Name)-san, your hair!” Inuoka pointed out. “It’s grown so much!”

She laughed at his comment, touching her hair consciously. “Yes, it has. My head feels lighter, actually.”

“Then, you’re keeping it short?”

She hums, tapping her finger to her chin in thought. “Who knows?”

“It looks good, actually,” Yaku commented. “Then again, it’s your hair, so it’s your choice.”

After the short pleasantries, the boys headed towards the couch and sat down, Fukunaga flipping through the channels. Kenma emerges from the washroom, sitting in his spot next to her.

“Ah, it’s your mom’s turn to watch you, right?” Noboyuki asked, sitting on the couch.

She hummed, nodding, Kenma placing the oranges on a table in front of her as he plumped and propped some pillows behind her, making sure that she was comfortable. When he was done, he sat down and began to unpeel his orange, (Name) mimicking him.

“Although" she broke into a sigh, breaking off pieces of the orange "I just wish I could get out of here, it’s so stuffy in here. Not to mention, it gets kind of scary at night.” She shuddered, blaming it on the time when the boys from Fukurodani visited and Bokuto, who had been channel surfing, stopped upon a horror film – particularly on a very scary scene. Lest to say, she didn’t sleep well that night and Bokuto was nearly banned from visiting her again.

“That’s understandable, hospitals tend to be scary,” Noboyuki says kindly.

“You can say that again!” roared Yamamoto.

“Yamamoto, shut up.” Yaku reprimands the loud-mouthed boy.

“Lev, how’s your read block training going?” as soon as the question was asked, the Russian tensed, beginning to sweat profusely.

“A-Ah, it’s going great!”

“He still sucks at it,” Kenma says, munching on a slice of orange with his eyes glued to his game console. “And no amount of practice seems to work, it’s like he’s meant for failure.”

“You can say that again,” says Yamamoto, arms folded against his chest. “he’s a hopeless cause.”

“H-Hey, I’ve been practicing!”

“Bless Nekomata-sensei for ever thinking you had a chance.”

“Yaku-san, not you, too!”

“Time to scoot, little newt!”

“Goddamn it, Fukunaga!”

(Name) couldn’t help but laugh, missing her rowdy boys.

A month of being holed in here was enough to drive anyone insane – everything was too gray, too cold and too dull. It meant so much to her whenever someone came to visit, bringing color to her room and warmth to her heart. Even as they all ganged up on Lev, she knew they really cared. And as far as Kenma’s told him – being vice-captain and all, Lev’s actually not bad. Though, he is quite clumsy with executing his offense and defense. She missed this, she really did.

But the thing was, it just wasn’t the same anymore.

It was hard to be around him anymore, that was a fact.

When she woke up, it looked like she had emerged from a different world. Kuroo quickly called the doctors, happy tears slipping down his face. Too happy to know that she finally woke up – after six months! – he almost forgot to ring her parents of her recovery.

A few hours later, when she slowly came to, he walked back in the room. Happy tears filled the room, the happy parents engulfing their finally awakened sleeping beauty.

But at the sight of him, she suddenly shook and cried – Kuroo quickly ran out of the room before anyone told him to, for her sake. All his worst fears came to life.

The doctors had assured him that it was just the effects of being unconscious for so long – it was difficult to adjust to her surroundings and the people she cared about. Her mind might still be subjected to her previous mindset, long before she went into a coma. So, when she woke up, there was a lot to take in for her. But with the help of doctors, her family, and friends, she was able to come through.

In a span of two weeks, (Name) was showing progress with her recovery. She was still subjected to strains when she overworked herself, especially when it came to brain exercise. But overall, she was doing well, her energy revitalized with the support of her family and friends. And ever since she woke up, there’s not a day when a friend – from Nekoma or Fukurodani – would drop by and visit.

In fact, the only time she ever seemed comfortable was when he wasn’t in the scene. She was much more comfortable with being in the presence of others than with his. And that hurt.

Things just weren’t the same anymore.

She knew that.

He knew that.

And it was all because of that one mistake of his. Just the thought of it made his gut churn, his hands balled into fists, his anger to rise, geared towards him.

There was no questioning of her newfound fear of him, after all, it was also his fault. Kuroo accepted his fate wholeheartedly, even though it killed him.

He could hear his thoughts twisting: of the reason that he stayed, was to ease himself of the guilt, to make him feel better about himself.

So, he came up with a decision, once she’s done with her rehab, when she finally gets discharged, he’ll leave her alone. As much as it pained him, he knew it was for the best.

After all, who was he in her life anymore?

“To light the night, to help us grow…” she mumbled, jolting down her notebook. “It is not said I always know…” Her nose scrunches, having hit a block. Frustrated, she throws her hand in the air, looking around her quiet room. Everything looked too dull, too gray. Instinctively, her hands reached to her right, where her ukulele usually lay, only to find it sitting on the chair across her – her father, had visited earlier and played her a song in an attempt to cheer her up.

(Name) sat up, turns to her side to lower the rail before sliding her feet off the bed. The cold tingle on her toes was a sensation she never knew she’d want to feel again, having been bedridden for months. Taking deep breaths, she lifted her feet off, remembering to bear the weight – feeling like a toddler walking for the first time.

Just as she reached her ukulele, a harsh voice called out. “Didn’t the doctor say you aren’t supposed to strain yourself?”

She looked up, meeting Kuroo’s furious gaze, seeing her out of bed.

Technically, according to the doctor, she could walk quite well now and advised her to do some exercise when she can. Kuroo couldn’t help but overreact.

“B-But…” without a word, he gently helped her back to her bed. She didn’t argue, her mission to grab her ukulele forgotten.

He sighed, pulling up a chair. “You do want to get out, right?” She nods, slowly, withdrawing her fingers away.

“D-Dr. Ishioka says I’m good to walk now.”

“Is that so?” she nods, like a petulant child. Kuroo sighs, eyes apologetic. “I’m sorry for overreacting.”

“It’s okay.” Relaxing, she offered him a gentle smile, which lasted for a minute before realizing the bags under his eyes, how bloodshot his eyes were. “You seem tired.”

“Hm,” he yawned, massaging his throbbing temples. “shitty customer, don’t worry about it.”

“You should sleep.” she offered.

“I’ll be fine,” he calls off, turning his back to look for something to do, anything to avoid her eyes.

“Kuroo Tetsuroo,” she called, using her tone – one he and Kenma were fairly familiar with, even the team. It pleased her to see him tense, slowly facing her. A triumphant smile was ready to break into her face, but concern about his welfare won over.

His shoulders slumped, surrendering. That made her smile, a tiny bit triumphant, before patting on her side. Instead, Kuroo resigned to sitting on a chair next to her bedside, leaning forward to rest his head on his folded arms.

“Are you sure you don’t want to lie down?” she offered, clearly displeased.

“I’m fine like this,” he tells her softly. I got used to it.

She looked like she wanted to argue but quickly closed her mouth shut. She moved closer so that he was laying on her lap. “Tetsuroo?”

“Hmm?”

“I-I wanna go to the gardens tomorrow, to stretch my legs.”

“All day?”

She nodded shyly, determined.

“Okay then, walking all day it is. By the way, how’s the song coming?”

Her shoulders fell, dejected. “It’s coming…I’m just stuck…”

Kuroo laughed, muffled by the sheets. And then he broke into a yawn, his head heavy, throbbing, eyelids drooping close but he fought to stay awake. Thin fingers soothingly ran through his hair, like they usually did, easing the tension from his head and replacing it with the sense of calmness.

“Hey, (Name)?” She leaned close, face illuminated by the moonlight. How he wanted to touch her face. “Sing me a song?

Smoothing her fingers through his hair, a soft smile crept its way to his lips, especially when she began to sing. His heart tugged, slowly beating faster – he always loved hearing her sing with or without an instrument. In one exhale, his subconscious slipping, the last thing he heard was her sweet voice and the beating of his heart.

“Hey, (Name).”

“Hm?”

“Why have you been avoiding Kuroo?”

She froze, slowly turning her head to blond-dyed teen beside her, hands folded against his chest and console free. He watched her from the corner of his eye, golden eyes inquisitive, waiting.

“Of course, you knew.” She smiled, leaning into his shoulder. “It’s not that I’m avoiding him…it’s just,” she lifted her hands, making gestures before letting them fall. “I-I don’t know how to talk to him...I’m not sure I want to. Just…being around him makes me feel like a black hole if that even makes sense.” The blank TV screen in front of her bed reflected the two, lying side by side on her bed, but she could also see the view outside her window – a dark blanket of night, the moon obscured by clouds.

“Hey, Kenma?” There was a question she was dying to ask, gnawing her the moment she woke up. She wasn’t even sure if she was ready for the answer, regardless of what it was. “My mind’s a bit fuzzy, and I was unconscious and all, but I do remember voices in the dark.” Swallowing thickly, she says. “A-And I swore I heard Tetsuroo.”

Kenma’s eyes noticeable widened, his shoulders heavy from bearing weights of two sides. In his head, he was debating whether he should tell her or not – he was obligated to, after all.

“Yeah, that was him.” He exhaled, recalling the past six months. “Kuroo didn’t leave your side since he found out you were admitted.”

She let out a weak gasp, the dam breaking. Alarmed, the blonde turned to his friend. “Why are you crying? Are you happy? Sad?”

“Both.” She sobbed, crying against his shoulder. But also, she felt incredibly guilty.

Kenma sighed, really, these two were a handful. When they talked, they both had to be careful of the other, as if they threaded on thin ice. He’s had enough of bearing their secrets, especially when it concerned the other – it made him the third wheel.

But as frustrating as they were, they were still his friends and he cared about them.

A few months into (Name) under coma, Kuroo Tetsuroo received word that he had been qualified for the colleges he applied for, one, in particular, was in the United Kingdom. Driven by guilt, he had to turn down their offers of scholarships for her, too broken to even take a step forward.

A day after she woke up, he called the admissions, asking if he was still qualified. To his luck, he still was.

Although the semester wouldn’t be until next month, Kuroo’s things were all packed. He didn’t bother saying a word to anyone, it was for the best.

It was a dick move, but then again, he was a dick.

This was the biggest leap of faith in his life, the opportunity of a lifetime, he had to take it. Yet, as much as his heart yearned for it, it felt like he was taking the easy way out.

He’ll miss Tokyo, his home, his family, his friends.

But what he’ll miss the most was her.

It’ll be alright, he thought to himself. After all, she’ll be off to college, her dream school, where she can start anew.

And as much as he hated the thought of it, he knew that she’ll meet someone else, someone who’ll treasure her in ways he failed to.

It felt surreal to be outside again, to have the sun and the wind kiss her skin. Hands instinctively flew to her hair as the wind picked up, remembering that it was still growing and it was cropped short.

What’s more surreal was the audition she got for her dream school, which was in a week’s time, having considered her situation. Nekoma was going to have a practice match soon with Karasuno, a mini-reunion was planned by the two schools. She was finally going to meet Kenma’s special someone he met at a Game Expo. It was almost too much for her heart to take.

But something was missing in all this fanfare – Kuroo.

For days, she hasn’t heard a word from him, hasn’t seen from him since. If she traced it back, it started just a day before she was released. She missed him. She really did. Her heart ached just to see a familiar hide of messy black hair, his gangly form, his easy smile.

And then she received a call from Bokuto, frantically telling her that Kuroo was at the hospital.

Apparently, he was out drinking with a few friends and suddenly got into a fight. Although he started it, he didn’t fight back, allowing the guy to beat him to a pulp. Had Bokuto not been there and Kuroo’d be critical.

Without a word, she ran out of her house, thoughts flying to Kuroo.

Upon arrival, her heart broke at the sight of him, hating that his arm was bandaged, the bruises and stitches on his face. She had the exact look of heartbreak when he saw her, all the guilt washed over her as she rushed to his side.

“What happened to you, Tetsurou?” he smelled of blood, dirt, sweat, and alcohol, but she didn’t care. “I know you’re one to pick fights, but I never thought you’d go this far.”

He turned away, avoiding her in eyes. That hurt. Kenma’s words surfaced, making her heart twinge.

“What’s she doing here?” he asked Bokuto angrily, completely ignoring her presence. She flinched at his tone, mind flashing to a certain memory.

“She was the best person to call,” Akaashi answered calmly, appearing next to the grey-haired teen. “Kuroo-san, go home. And more importantly, you and (Last name)-san need to talk.”

“Eh? But Akaashi, don’t you think Kuroo’s out of it?”

“I’m very much sober, thank you very much.” Kuroo threw a glare at the raven-haired setter, ignoring Bokuto’s concern, or (Name)’s.

After being given painkillers, Kuroo was good to go. And before anyone could stop him, he walked out of the hospital.

(Name) looked at the two teens worriedly before chasing after him, calling after his retreating form. But he didn’t look back, not even once. She didn’t stop chasing after him either.

Finally, he stopped by the riverside next to the bridge – the same one she found he and Kenma some years ago. Although puzzled, she followed him down the steps. Knowing that she was behind him, that she wouldn’t leave him alone, Kuroo sighed – ignoring the pain from his chest. He sat down, she took it as an invitation, sitting a step above him.

The silence between them was thick with a heavy weight of guilt wrought by the past few months, hearts burdened heavily. It was almost unbearable to even breathe, running away was the perfect option, yet the two stayed, another option weighing heavier.

They remain like that for at least an hour, the night growing older with every second. Two teenagers too afraid to tell the other what they wanted to say, fear holding them back.

Finally, for what seemed like forever, Kuroo exhaled through his nose, a heavy sigh. That was never a good sign. “I’m going to Cambridge.”

Her head whipped to him, he worried she’d get a whiplash. But she didn’t, her world just stopped. “W-What…?”

Sighing again, he pressed his forehead to his palms, unable to meet her eyes. It wasn’t what he wanted to say, but this was for the best.

“The next semester won’t start until next month, but in a few days or weeks, I was called to take a test and offered a scholarship. So, I leave sometime this month.”

She could feel her heart twisting with every word he said, and she hated it – hated the way he talked to her, hated how he seemed to avoid her. Then again, she pretty much did the same thing when she woke up. She missed him, she really did.

Brought by the pent-up emotions she’s been feeling, she called out, in a shaky tone. “Hey, Tetsu, won’t you listen to my song?”

Song? He peeked up at her. So, she finally got to finish her song.

Swallowing hard, she reached for her ukulele – the sight of the band-aid sent a sharp pain in his heart, a painful reminder – fingers positioned over the strings, shaking just by a fraction. Before he could stop her, she glanced up at him and began singing.

I love this place

But haunted without you

My tired heart is beating so slow

Our hearts sing less than we wanted

We wanted

Our hearts sing cause

We do not know

Her singing was as gentle as her music, enough to bring tears to his eyes.

He was reminded of the many times she’d sing to him, in times when he was at his lowest. To cheer him up, all it took was a few comforting words, a gentle smile, a warm hug, or her offering a song. It was cheesy, but he loved it, especially because when she sang to him, it would be only him and just him alone, making it very personal for him. He was selfish like that, especially with her.

To light the night

To help us grow

It is not said I always know

Of course, you don’t, he thought laughingly.

He could feel the longing in her voice, the loneliness – it made her seem like she was a princess locked up in a tower. Its lyrics tugged at him, knowing the feeling so well.

When their eyes met, he saw the young woman he fell in love with when they were 8, the young woman who held his heart now.

You can catch me

Don't you run

If you live another day in this happy little house

The fire’s here to stay

The emotion in her eyes made his throat dry, tugging his heart – did she just?

To light the night

To help us grow

It is not said I always know

His heart was hammering wildly against his chest, a rush of emotions burning inside, igniting his veins. The words were at the tip of his tongue, heart ready to burst out of his chest to tell her.

But not just yet, he didn’t want to jinx it, couldn’t bring himself to, he wanted to hear more.

Please don't make a fuss

It won't go away

The wonder of it all the wonder that I made

I am here to stay

Stay

Overwhelmed by her emotions, by the pent-up emotions she’s withheld for so long, tears began streaming down her face uncontrollably. Alarmed, Kuroo quickly took her ukulele aside and enveloped her in his arms.

At his touch, everything she’s been holding in surfaced - missing him, loving him. “I’m sorry!” she cried, returning the hug, tightening her hold on him. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

“No, don’t say you’re sorry.” He pulls back to plant a kiss to her forehead, thumbs brushing her tears away. “Don’t you ever feel sorry, (Name).” He whispered against her skin.

Kenma’s neutral look of displeasure came to mind. He felt like an idiot. How could he be so stupid to have dismissed her feelings over his?

(Name) couldn't stop crying, her heart was so full of emotions that it seemed like it would burst anytime. She felt loved, so loved in Kuroo's arms - from the boy she's loved for so long. And somehow, his embrace made everything better, everything was forgiven, forgotten – yet, it made things worse at the same time.

“Tetsurou, please don’t go…” glossy (eye color) eyes begging, his heart aching. She couldn't take not having him by her side, couldn't take the thought of losing him. “Don’t go, please.” Gentle hands reached up to cup his face, tears continuing to stream down. “Stay, please.”

Oh, those (eye color) eyes, she had no idea of its effect on him.

“Stay?”

Placing his larger hands in hers, he leaned his forehead with hers, their noses bumping.

“Always.”

#kuroo tetsurou x reader #kuroo tetsurou #reader insert #kuroo tetsurou angst #nekoma #haikyuu!!#haikyuu!! angst #haikyuu!! fic #haikyuu!! x reader #hq fic #hq x reader #alicemitch09 writes

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just-jordie-things · 4 years

Note

Hello, i love your one shots fo atla so i wanted to ask if you could write one with zuko - 51 and 64? And with gaang where they saw them 🥺🥺

prompt 51: public kiss prompt 64: being unable to open their eyes for a few moments afterwards ___

“Hey, will you come with me to that booth?” (y/n) asked, placing her hand on Zuko’s arm and using the other to point to a vendor up ahead.

He nods back at her, and they break off from the group, wandering the marketplace on their own.

He’s only been a part of the gaang for a couple of weeks, but (y/n) had really grown on him, and he couldn’t place why. She was just different from the others. She was quieter, softer, sweeter- you never would have guessed that she could be so scary with a sword.

"We should get some of these,” (y/n) said, drawing him back from his thoughts. “I could make smoothies!”

Zuko doesn’t know what to say, so he just smiles and nods his head, helping her carry the baskets of fruit after paying the vendor.

He listens to her ramble on about little things, and learns how much she loves going to the market places of the different places they’ve traveled. But apparently nothing lives up to the liveliness of Ba Sing Se. He doesn’t understand what all she’s saying- doesn’t get why anyone would like to be in such a busy place like that- but her eyes light up and she’s smiling so brightly that he pretends to get it.

“When your family visited, did you come here?”

Her question throws him off, and he tries to hide it, but she notices right away.

“Oh- I- I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked, that’s personal-”

“No, it’s okay,” Zuko shook his head, feeling bad for making her feel that way. “We didn’t come here, back then,” He answered. “We didn’t do anything like this”

“What did you do, then?”

“Saw dumb plays” Zuko grumbled.

“The Ember Island Players?” (y/n) asked excitedly. “I saw a couple posters about them, would you take me?”

“T-take you?” Zuko flusters, and the red in his cheeks doesn’t go unnoticed by (y/n).

She nods eagerly, her smile stretching from ear to ear.

“I’ve never seen a performance like that before,” She says. “And since you’ve been before you’re the perfect date!”

“Date?” He repeats in a mumble, and she nods again.

“Yeah, wouldn’t that be fun?”

No, he thinks. Those plays are the worst.

But as he looks down at her, at how delighted she is, he wants nothing more than to take her anywhere and everywhere she wants to go.

“Like- like an actual date?” He stammers.

“Do you want it to be an actual date?” (y/n) asks, her eyes hopeful, and her lip between her teeth. ___

Zuko doesn’t know how he got so lucky that it actually worked, and that he now found himself sitting with (y/n) in the theater.

She had sat as close to him as possible, tucked under his arm, her head resting comfortably against his shoulder while she happily watched the shitty play.

Unfortunately. the others caught wind of the play, and invited themselves to go. Neither (y/n) or Zuko had the guts to tell them that they were trying to have a romantic time together.

And so now Zuko was trying not to pout while the rest of the gaang made their comments about the bad performances.

But it was apparent in the way he would sigh and roll his eyes that he wasn’t happy. So a few minutes before intermission, (y/n) poked his shoulder, and silently motioned for him to follow her out of the theater.

The slipped out without being noticed by their friends.

There were a few groups of people in the corridors, trying to beat the rush and long lines at the snack bar that intermission would inevitably bring, but (y/n) paid them no mind.

“What’s wrong, Zuko?” She asked, stopping him in a clear spot against the wall. She looked at him worriedly, and she just wanted him to have a good time.

“Nothing, I’m sorry, it’s just...”

“Is it the others?” (y/n) asked softly.

“No- well, kind of,” He shook his head before pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s just.... this isn’t how I wanted tonight to go, okay?”

She nods slightly, not knowing what to say.

“It was supposed to be- it was supposed to just be us, and it was going to be romantic and I was going to tell you how I feel about you and the evening was just supposed to be ours, but instead, we’re stuck watching a terrible play about us and our friends are here and it’s just nothing like I-”

“How do you feel about me?” (y/n) asked, ignoring the rest of Zuko’s rant, and focusing just on that one piece he let slip out.

Upon realizing that he’d said that out loud, Zuko paled, and his mouth dropped open.

“I...” He trailed off, eyes flickering in between hers as he tried to find the right words.

Her brows drew upwards, impatiently waiting for him to tell her how he felt.

He was nervous, he didn’t want to say the wrong thing, or ruin their friendship- or worse, do anything to get himself kicked out of the group forever.

But then a completely different mindset came over.

Fuck it. She deserves to know, and I don’t want to keep it to myself anymore.

“I really like you, (y/n),” He said, before letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding in. “I have for a while now, I think you’re- you’re just the best person I’ve ever met,”

Her lips parted in shock, not having expected something so sincere. She’d thought he liked her, but not like this.

“And I just wanted you to have a nice night because you deserved it. You look so beautiful and I just wanted to take you on a date”

(y/n) smiles at him, before reaching up and laying her hands on his shoulders, getting him to finally stop talking.

“Close your eyes”

“What?” Zuko furrows his brows.

“Just do it,” She says. “Trust me”

Zuko huffs, before shutting his eyes and waiting for her to say whatever she had to-

But it never came. Instead, there was a soft pair of lips placed over his, and she was kissing him sweetly.

Just as he processed this and reacted by wrapping his hands around her hips, she was pulling away.

Neither of them wanted to open their eyes, too enamored by one another to want to be out of this blissful moment.

“I really like you too” She murmured, before Zuko leaned back in and sealed their lips together again.

He was slow, wanting to remember every second of this moment, and memorize the warm softness of her lips against his.

“Ho...ly.... shit...”

Sokka was the first to speak as the group came out of the theater for intermission. They were far enough away that the couple didn’t notice- and therefore didn’t break their kiss.

“Can someone pick me up please? If I don’t barf, my feet will” Toph grumbled.

“I think they’re cute,” Suki said, slinging her arm around her boyfriend’s waist. “Besides, they’ve been dancing around each other for ages”

“They have?” Katara asked. “I hadn’t noticed”

Suki had to giggle at the irony, which Katara didn't get, but didn’t question.

“Should we say something?” Aang asks.

“Nah,” Sokka shook his head. “Let’s just see how long it takes them to fess up” He said, before directing everyone back into the theater.

(It took about two days)

#atla #zuko #zuko x reader #zuko imagine #zuko scenario

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awritingtree · 4 years

Text

A Chance

Draco Malfoy x reader

Summary: Draco left Y/N heartbroken, absolutely crushed it. So what does she do when he shows up at her doorstep, five years past since the last time she saw him? Will she find it in her heart to forgive him?

@fic-writer-heaven‘s October Event writing challenge: Angst prompt 10. “One of the cruelest things you can do to another person is pretend to care more about them than you really do.” and fluff prompt 5. “You are my heart, my life, my one and only thought.” The prompts have been bolded :) I had loads of fun writing this.

Words: ~2.3k

Warnings: angst, a bit of fluff. Comment please if you think there are any other warnings to be added :)

A/N: DID SOMEONE SAY DRACO MALFOY? Hehe xD I was really going to debating on whether to have a sad or happy ending. But then I remembered my plans for another Draco fic and I thought that our boy deserved a bit of happiness :) I hope you like this xx

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

You never thought you’d see him again. But yet here he was, standing on your front porch. He looked different, a bit older of course; it had been five years since the Battle of Hogwarts. His white blond hair was shorter than you remembered. He wore black jeans, and a black peacoat over a green Slytherin jumper. He had gained a bit of weight; no longer sickly thin and pale. His grey eyes seemed brighter, happier. You couldn’t deny that he had aged well. He looked handsome; he always did look handsome. Nobody could deny it, especially not you.

“H- hi,” he stuttered.

You stared at him, your e/c eyes not wavering from his form.

Draco cleared his throat, “Can we talk?” He paused before adding a “please.”

“You weren’t so willing to talk last time.”

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

“One of the cruelest things you can do to another person is to pretend to care more about them than you really do.”

Your mother had told you this at a young age. At the time you had disagreed. Surely it was better to have someone pretend to care rather than have no one at all? You never really understood how wrong you had been until this precise moment where you stood in front of the boy that broke your heart, balancing tears, willing them not to fall.

“We can work this out, Draco. Talk to me, please.”

“I have nothing to say to you, Y/N,” said Draco coldly.

“There has to be something I can do. I can fix it, whatever it is, please. Just give me a chance. I can’t lose you,” you begged. You sounded desperate but you didn’t care. You loved Draco; you have since you were in your 4th year.

“You don’t get it, do you? I don’t care about you.”

You shook your head in denial, “That’s not true.”

“I never cared about you,” Draco spoke as if explaining something to a child. “You were nothing but something to pass my time with, something to experience.”

You felt your heart drop to the bottom of your stomach at his words. That couldn’t be true. He had to be lying.

“You’re lying. I know you are. You have to be,” you pressed on, hoping to break him out of whatever- out of what? You didn’t know. But you knew Draco, this was not your Draco.

“Listen to me. I have never loved you, I never will. I pretended to because I was merely bored. Did you really think I’d love a filthy half-blood like you?” he sneered.

You couldn’t hold back the tears any longer; they fell, streaming down your face. It did nothing to falter Draco. His cold, empty eyes glared at you. That’s when you realized the Draco you knew and loved, who swore to hurt anyone who ever made you cry back in 5th year, was gone. Replaced by the cold monster staring down at you.

You took a deep breath and stepped away from the love of your life. You walked away from him, suppressing your sobs. You refused to show him how much he affected you.

That day you promised yourself that no one would ever have the opportunity to break your heart again, like Draco Malfoy did.

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

“I know,” Draco mumbled shamefully.

Draco raked his brain for a way to get you to listen to him. He didn’t know what to do or say that’d convince you to hear him out. “I can’t take back what I’ve done but please just give me a chance to explain, to set things straight. If after that you don’t want to talk to me or see me, I swear you’ll never see or hear from me again.”

You stared at the man in front of you. He looked desperate, probably as desperate as you had that unfortunate day when everything changed for you. Knowing you would somehow come to regret this, you sighed and moved aside, widening the entrance to invite him in.

Draco sighed in relief. He didn’t know what he would have done if you hadn’t agreed. He followed you down a hall. The walls were decorated with so many pictures; pictures of you alone, with your friends from back in Hogwarts and recently, pictures with and of your family. He noticed there were no pictures with anyone that looked like a partner which gave him a bit of hope.

You led him into the kitchen and put a kettle on to boil. Draco looked around smiling, this is exactly what he would’ve imagined your house and kitchen to look like. There were a few plants - no doubt some herbs - growing near the windowsill. Everything was organized in the wooden and glass cupboards, the white marble countertop spotless except for a few fruits in a basket. Handing him a cup of peppermint tea, you sat down at the small table in the corner of the kitchen. Taking a sip from your cup of lemon ginger tea, you watched him hang his coat on the back of the chair before taking a seat across from you. You continued to watch him for a while. When he asked you for a chance to explain, you expected there to be more, well, talking. But it seemed as though he was pretty content sitting there in your kitchen, drinking your tea in silence. You internally rolled your eyes, already frustrated.

Draco took a sip of his hot peppermint tea and sighed, pleased with the warmth that spread through his body. He knew you were waiting for him to say something, but he didn’t know where to begin. Every time he believed he’d found a way to start the conversation, his mind would chastise him.

“Well get to it, won’t you?” you said irritated, finally getting tired of waiting for him to say anything. Draco pursed his lips together and decided to just wing it.

“I didn’t know what else to do. The times were getting darker, my father was in Azkaban and with the pressure on me. You were not safe around me; you were not safe around a Death Eater. I was scared; for you and for myself. If any of them found out about us,” he squeezed his eyes shut, attempting to get rid of the horrid images his mind was coming up with. His hands gripping the cup of tea so tightly, he was surprised it didn’t shatter. “I don’t know what they would’ve done to you. I didn’t want to find out.”

“Did you ever think maybe I didn’t care what could’ve happened to me? I would’ve gone to all lengths for you, Draco.”

“I didn’t want you to,” he shook his head lightly. “I couldn’t let you sacrifice everything for me. I couldn’t be selfish, not when it had to do with you. I had to protect you in the only way I knew how. You are my heart, my life, my one and only thought. I love you, Y/N. I always have, I always will.”

Even though you hadn’t and don’t agree with what he’d done, you could understand where he was coming. He was doing what he thought was best for you.

“I love you too,” you replied quietly, flustered by his last words. Draco beamed; maybe there really was hope after all.

“I want to forgive you, Draco. I really do. But what you did, what you said,” you trailed off, taking a moment to gather yourself and your words.

“You hurt me, Draco. What you said, no matter the reason, I can’t just forget it because of an apology. I can’t do that to myself again. I won’t.” You felt proud of yourself for being able to resist him. Though, you knew that it wouldn’t be long before you gave in.

Draco moved forward, reached out and took your hand in both of his and brought it close to him.

“I know what I did was wrong. There were other ways to handle the situation, instead I acted like an arse. But please, Y/N,” he pleaded as he placed a small kiss on your knuckles. “Just give me a chance. I will spend however long it takes to make this right, to make us right. I will do whatever it takes, just tell me what I can do.”

You couldn’t lie, you were a bit shocked. You never thought you’d see the day that the Draco Malfoy would be in your house, in your kitchen, begging and pleading with you to give him another chance because he was wrong.

After that unfortunate day, you’d thrown yourself into work. Excelling at every subject, making head girl in your 7th year when you returned to Hogwarts after the war. You were a Y/H and you would be damned if you let anyone, least of all a boy, get in the way of your education and goals. You graduated top of the class, went out into the real world and built a good name for yourself. All the hard work had paid off; everyone believed you had the potential become one of the best healers the wizarding community had ever seen, once you completed your training.

You’d promised yourself that no one would have the opportunity to break your heart again. But as you gazed at the man in front of you. You felt your resolve break. The clear desperation and tears welling up in his eyes tugging at your heartstrings. You knew you’d break the promise made to yourself almost seven years ago, over and over again for the man in front of you.

Draco could see the hurt he’d caused you years ago swimming in your eyes. He made a promise to himself at that moment, he’d do whatever it took and however long it’d take for that hurt to go away. And maybe, hopefully, it’d be replaced by something else, something more if it all worked out in the end.

You sighed, hating yourself for giving in so easily.

“Alright. I will give you a chance to make this right, but you have to earn the forgiveness,” you said softly. “Don’t make me regret this, Draco. Show me you deserve to be forgiven.”

Draco nodded, a wide smile taking over his face. Even after all these years, it knocked the breath out of you. You’d always loved his smile; it had been one of your favourite things about him.

“Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Draco said, placing butterfly kisses on your knuckles, overcome with a type of happiness he hadn’t felt in a long time, not since he made you walk away that unfortunate day seven years ago. “I promise you won’t regret this.”

‘I really hope so,’ you thought.

Draco let go off your hand, sitting back down, thanking Merlin that you had such a forgiving heart. If it was him in your position, he wouldn’t’ve let you in the house. Honestly, he would’ve slammed the front door on your face. For a moment back there, he thought you were going to.

But you didn’t. Of course, you didn’t. Because even after years, even after all that he put you through, somehow, you still loved him. You hated yourself for it. But one can’t help who they love; you can’t control who you fall in love with.

You both stared at each other, a new energy that wasn’t there before, when you opened the door today thinking it’d be Ron or Luna dropping by.

“Can I kiss you?” Draco whispered nervously. Was he overstepping? ‘Salazar, I shouldn’t have said anything. I should just be grateful that she’s giving me another chance,’ he thought, berating himself.

You hesitated for a bit. Did you want him to kiss you? Did you want to kiss him? ‘Of course, you do,’ you mentally scoffed at yourself.

You nodded timidly, looking down at the table. You heard the chair scrape against the floor as he stood up.

Draco made his way towards you, sweating with nerves. He took a deep breath trying to calm himself down. He leaned down on his knees beside you, lifting a shaky hand to the side of your face, bringing you to face him. He scanned your face, looking into your eyes, for any hesitation that would tell him he needed to back off. But he didn’t find any. He softly caressed your cheek with his thumb, gazing at you in awe. He thought you were the most beautiful thing in the world.

Draco slowly leaned in, his lips brushing against yours giving you a chance to pull back. When you didn’t, he pressed his lips against yours, relishing in the feeling that spread through his entire being. Your lips moved softly against his as your hands wrapped themselves around his neck, playing with the chain that lay under his jumper. Draco moved his other hand to the back of your neck winding up in your hair, pulling you closer to him. The kiss was gentle and tender, both of you savouring the feeling of the other in their arms after all these years.

You slowly pulled away when the need for oxygen became too great to ignore. But before you could put some distance between the two of you, Draco pulled you into a sudden hug. His arms wrapped around your waist, burying his face into your hair whilst your face buried itself into the crook of his neck.

Draco felt a small smile spread across your face against his skin.

‘Maybe it’ll all be okay,’ he thought.

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

If you enjoyed reading this fic, please like/comment/reblog! Your opinion/feedback is welcome, appreciated, and motivating :)

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#draco #malfoy #draco malfoy #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy oneshot #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy fic #draco malfoy fanfic #harry potter #hp #hp imagine #harry potter imagine #hogwarts #draco malfoy imagines #we October 2020 #slytherin #battle of hogwarts

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wordsbeyondimagination · 3 years

Text

Christmas Lego Date

Hey, Hope you all are safe.

I wanted to say that I don't feel any confidence in my writing, and the situation here is also not very good. Everyday we are living like owing time. If you all can suggest any genre or any changes to the themes, then please feel to ask. I will surely reply because writing is something that I love the most.

Take care.

Mama Suh always wanted to see her grandchildren, and play with them but to her disappointment, her son never got time to date, anybody. So, she had to take things in her hand.

She set up a date for Johnny in Chicago when he was home for Christmas. The first date went through knowing each other’s name, interests, and work. And that was like a total clash when an introvert meets an extrovert. He was the one that set up the atmosphere and made you comfortable around him. That was the only thing that made you look forward to your second date with him. He had planned a date at a fancy restaurant but changed it at the last moment and asked you to visit his home.

Johnny had already planned the whole evening. He had brought a Christmas tree and lots of lights and mistletoe. He had prepared the dinner himself. And prepared gifts for you. Well prepared and was only waiting for the doorbell to ring.

He was overwhelmed when he heard the bell ring.

“Good Evening, Y/n, did you have any problem finding my house?”

“No, it’s such a good location, why would there be any problem.”

“I had brought fruits for Uncle and Auntie.” His parents were not in the house that’s why he chose to invite you or else Mama Suh would have asked you about the date of marriage.

“Yeah, I will say her when she comes back.” He took the basket from your hand and escorted you to the couch.

His house had a warm feeling. It sharply contrasted the snow falling outside. Your string was getting stronger with him. With his personality, he was like a fireplace to you. You were always considered cold because of your introverted personality but he understood you. He always made efforts to make you comfortable around him.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Hmm…”, he said arranging the table.

“Why did you choose your house for our date?” Johnny smiled at you. He admired your innocence and curiosity.

“I planned to take you out but Mom said that she is going out with Dad, so, I invited you here, and also I thought a house would’ve different feeling. Don’t you like it?” He asked with fake concern that panicked you.

“No, no, no, it’s not like that. I like quiet places. I like your house very much. It’s warm just like you,” you mumbled the last three words but he heard that and pretended like he didn’t hear anything to make you comfortable around him. It was rare to have someone have feelings from the first blind date but you two were just fools in love.

You noticed the Christmas tree and decorative laying behind the couch.

“Have you tried this?” You asked pointing to the tree.

“Yeah, I wanted to surprise Mom and Dad but I have no idea.” He said scratching the back of his neck.

“Will you help me? You can come up with ideas.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Okay, let’s do that after dinner.”

The dinner was full of laughter. He narrated the 10th-floor stories. Some deadly, some comedic, and some horrific. You almost choked once because of his stories, he hurried to your side with water and patted your back. It was that moment when you realized that you need him in your life, for a lifetime. Both of you settled and again he started with all his stories, his stories didn’t end and your laughter didn’t stop. It was a moment that was going to be memorable for both of you till death.

After dinner, you both settled on the floor for decorating. Although Johnny insisted on sitting on the couch, still you said that it wouldn’t have any feeling of a family. It gave him hope.

“I saw your designs on your Instagram page, how do you get so many ideas?”

“They just come. I don’t do anything for them to come.”

“We also have a bunch of kids in NCT who design, you would love to meet them. You would love to meet them all. We have everyone younger than me except one and trust me even though he is the eldest but he is like a baby. I hope I can take you there.” You just smiled at his words but never replied to anything so he didn’t ask you anymore but little did you that he was asking you to come with him. You couldn’t even ay him that you watched every NCT video at least 10 times to know more about him and you memorized everybody’s name.

You two sat decorating the Christmas Tree, and he was helping you and also narrating the stories when he decorated trees with his groupmates. Unaware of time, you two enjoying your date, a date that you wanted.

“Y/n, I have something for you.” You looked at him and he ran to his room and came out with two folded sweaters for him. When you unfolded it, you saw that it had your initials on it and Johnny had also his initials.

“Wow, I like it. Thanks.” He smiled.

“Well, I also have something else for you.” He again ran inside and came with a wrapped box.

“What’s this?”

“You will know when you open it. Come on open it.” He became excited and started to jump and seal clap and for the first time, anybody’s excitation excited you. You started to unwrap it.

“Hogwarts Castle Lego set! Thank you very much. But how do you know that I am a Potterhead?”

“Oh. I saw your Instagram and you had many drawings of Harry Potter, so…”

“Thank you. I love this.”

Only this! not me! Johnny thought.

“Johnny, it’s getting late, I think I should go. We will meet next time.” He never wanted you to go. You were the one he wanted the most and always treasure you and protect you. He wanted you to stay by his side.

“Okay.” He stood up and went with you to the door but as soon as he opened the door, a chilly gust of wind blew and it was a snowstorm.

“Looks like a blizzard!” You were just about to go inside when he grabbed your wrist.

“Y/n, we are under the mistletoe!” You looked up and indeed a mistletoe was hanging and you both under it.

“When did you hang this?”

“When you were busy decorating Christmas tree.” He said with a shy smile. Yeah, you should’ve known that it's his idea.

“Y/n, I think we should kiss.” He placed his lips on yours. Even though the chilly winds and the snow were cold but you felt warmth under his touch. It was love. When you separated, his eyes were full of feelings for you. A home for you.

“I think I have to stay here. The snow won’t allow me to go.”

“Hmm.” Even nature was on his side.

He closed the door.

“Y/n, I want to ask you something.” You looked at him. He was serious.

“Yeah.”

“Would you…would you like to come with me to Korea and stay by my side? You can carry freelancing there.” You smiled at his confession. That is not only what you wanted but that was what you needed. You were crazy for him, and you needed him.

“Yeah. I would love to.” Johnny was overwhelmed with your response, he hugged you at once. But something came between you two ‘Lego’.

“Johnny, do you want to try this with me.” He nodded.

“Wingadium Leviosa ”

“Expelliarmus”

And you two were in a sleepless night, sitting near the fireplace and joining the Hogwarts castle and casting spells on each other treasuring the memories with your kiss and hugs that you shared.

#nct fanfiction #nct fanfic #nct fluff #nct fluffs #nct 127 #nct #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct johnny #johnny suh #johnny suh fanfic #johnny suh imagines #johnny suh fluff

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cptnbvcks · 4 years

Text

salt berries (mandalorian x reader)

summary: the mandalorian likes berries. he likes them more when you’re the one feeding them to him.

warnings: finger-lickin’ mutual pining and sexual tension. gut wrenching fluff between two touch starved people.

a/n: i had to get up and take a walk after writing this. the idea came to mind and i wanted to write a short little piece with the most soul crushing pining and sexual tension i could conjure up. hope you enjoy! rb & leave a comment and tell me what you think the mandalorian’s kink is 🥵

“What are you feeding him?”

You startle at the sleepy drag of the Mandalorian’s voice, deeper still through the synthetic warping of his helmet’s modulator.

The orange summer heat of Sorgan must have lulled him off. If not the heat, you were sure his battle battered body had finally relented to its own exhaustion.

You wonder how long he’s been awake as you turn away from the cooing baby, finding him still in the same position he had fallen asleep in, arms clasped loosely over his stomach and his body slack with relaxation against the wicker cot.

His helmet was still facing the sky and you wondered if his eyes were even open, if he was watching the smattering of translucent clouds as they drifted in the vast ocean of the planet’s sky. You wondered if he was watching you instead from the corner of his eye.

“Salt berries,” you respond, itching the top of the child’s forehead as he babbled in delight from within the straw basket filled with blankets. You dusted your skirts as you stood, leaving the child to observe as you approached his pseudo-father, “Omera’s daughter just dropped some off.”

“I can smell them,” The Mandalorian says, his head still unmoving as you lowered yourself down to the floor beside his daybed, stretching your legs out before you. Amusement plays on your face as you bite back a teasing smile, setting the bowl of vibrant purple berries down on your lap.

“I didn’t think you still had a sense of smell under that thing.”

The Mandalorian’s head shifts and now you feel the warm heat of his gaze, hotter than the evening sun on the back of your neck as you unsuccessfully press your lips together to hide the grin that threatens to spread across your face. You wonder for a fleeting moment if he was smiling too.

“Sorry,” you apologize, but even the word comes out on the bursting bubble of a laugh. Lowering your gaze, you pluck a berry from the bowl and slip it past your lips, hoping that by keeping your mouth busy it might spare the bounty hunter from your sharp tongue.

The berry was plump with juice and sweet bursting flesh. The thin skin of it textured with frosted dew points that left a small brackish tang on your tongue. It tinted your lips sunset pink.

The Mandalorian was still watching you.

A sudden wave of timidness washed over you like a sun-warmed gust of air.

He watched you a lot more often these days. You would pretend not to notice, but you always caught the quick turn of his helmet in your periphery when you glanced back his way. Nervously, you pressed your lips together as your tongue swiped across your sticky lower lip.

You noticed a falter in the steady rise and fall of his chest.

Had he been holding his breath?

“Salt berries,” he repeated, testing the words on his tongue, “I’ve never heard of them before.”

“Do you want a taste?”

The silence that falls after your question makes you want to swallow the words right out of the air and kill them before they reach the Mandalorian’s ear. Your cheeks match the berry stain of your lips and your brows cringe together with embarrassment. You open your mouth to apologize again but the quiet suddenness of his response squashes the words before they form.

“Yes.”

His voice is heavy through the modulator, ladened with something that made such a simple affirmation sound like both a demand and a plead. He doesn’t move from his position and you realize that he’s waiting for you to come to him.

Your eyes search the vacantness of his helmet’s visor as another beat of silence passes between you. Slowly, you gather the rags of your skirts and shift on your knees until you’re beside his cot.

Still, he does not move.

You don’t know why you do it. You don’t know what compels you. Perhaps it’s the stillness of him, the quiet docility of his position that almost reminds you of the temptation to pet a sleeping beast that only looks friendly while it’s unconscious. Your hand lifts towards the underside of his helmet.

The speed of him startles the breath from your lungs as he catches your wrist. His grip is firm but he does not hurt you. He never hurts you. Your eyes flicker to the visor again, assuming where his eyes may be. All you can see is the reflection of yourself in the glimmering beskar steel.

“This stays on,” the Mandalorian says. His words are firm. No room for argument or negotiation. Still, a softness lingers there. Quiet, but loud in the words he doesn’t speak. The desires he would never voice.

“This is the Way,” his voice trails at the dutiful repetition of the Mandalore chant.

Longing.

Even through the warbling of the modulator, you hear it and it pulls apart your heart.

You nod. His fingers loosen, hesitating a moment longer around the cusp of your wrist before releasing you completely. The profoundness of the Mandalorian’s trust is not lost on you.

Your eyes follow the path of your hand as your fingertips brush against the rough protective cloth that rose over his neck before disappearing beneath the headgear. You hope he can’t feel the small tremor of your hand as it slips between the gap of his helmet, your palm resting meekly over the curve of his jaw as your fingertips find the edge of the material.

You can feel his breath. Unsteady.

The Mandalorian was nervous.

Slowly, you pulled the loose fabric down over his mouth, his chin and jaw. Stubble scratches roughly over your knuckles and the humid air of his unhindered exhale felt just as comforting as the mid-summer atmosphere.

The moment’s glimmer of surprise danced over your features as you pressed your palm to the warm flesh of his cheek, bare and vulnerable and oh — so human. He exhaled, shorter than the last breath, and you felt it on the inside of your wrist. You couldn’t see his face, but the hazy image of him grew a little clearer now.

For a moment, you couldn’t feel the weight of his stare. Perhaps his eyes had slipped closed.

“The berries,” he reminded you, his voice soft and coaxing. Careful as he broke you out of whatever quiet thoughts you were having.

Your cheeks burned redder as you drew your hand back, averting your gaze back to the bowl of berries.

“Sorry,” you apologize again, shaking your head slightly at the flustered realization that maybe you had been too forward.

“Don’t be. It’s... alright.”

You looked back up at the bounty hunter as the reassurance seemed to hesitate in his mouth. For once, it seemed, the Mandalorian was at a loss for words and it wasn’t because he had nothing to say. On the contrary — the Mandalorian, all at once, had far too much that he wished to say. Things that he knew that, once spoken, could never again be unspoken.

So he fell into his silence again as you picked out a supple looking berry from the bowl.

You dipped your fingers beneath his helmet again, trying your hardest not to drop the small fruit as your fingertip bumped against the soft texture of his lip.

He was watching you again.

Gods, you could have whimpered as you felt his lips part for you. Not enough for the berry to slip in easily. No — he only parted his lips just enough that you had to press the round body of the berry until he caught it on the tip of his tongue.

Your mouth ran dry as the warm wetness of his tongue dragged over the delicate pad of your finger. Against your own volition, your own tongue brushed over the plush flesh of your bottom lip before you caught it between your teeth.

His lips closed around your fingertip for just a moment longer, nursing the berry juice from your skin, before you drew your hand away. The Mandalorian may well have burned you from the way the warmth of his mouth drew an incessant awareness to the heartbeat that thrummed under your skin.

You felt breathless and dizzy, warm all over from a heat that wasn’t caused by the mid-year Sorgan sun. This fire was solely the Mandalorian’s.

Behind the beskar, the man watched you — seeing the way your berries stained your lips and wondered if his lips were stained to match. The berries were named aptly; salty and sweet, exploding all at once on his tongue, though the taste of your fingertips lingered beneath. Salty sweet.

He imagined that your mouth tasted the same.

—

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#the mandalorian #mandalorian x reader #dyn jarren x reader #pedro pascal #dyn jarren #my HEART #myfic #baby yoda #he's just here to be cute #the title of this fic came bc i misheard harry styles' saying 'strawberries' in watermelon sugar #i thought he deadass said salt berries and i thought that sounded yummy

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spooderboyandtincan · 3 years

Text

Happy Halloween!

A/N: Here are the actual episodes of Buzzfeed Unsolved mentioned in this fic! The Terrifying Axeman of New Orleans and The Horrors of Pennhurst Asylum. As a warning, both of these videos describe both very grisly and gory things, so please watch them with caution!

(Also, the author in no way claims to own or use these videos for commercial property. Just wanted to include them!)

~~~~~

Peter was having a great day, even when an apple tried to give him a concussion.

Normally, he would have caught the traitorous fruit, but there were several families around who might have noticed his outstanding reflexes, so with some split second thinking he let the apple bounce off his head.

“Ow!” Peter massaged the top of his head. Tony and May turned to him, both slightly concerned. “I think this tree is trying to kill me.”

“Oh, spare us!” Tony said to the tree, reaching out to ruffle Peter’s curls. “Not my darling son! Take me instead!”

Peter rolled his eyes at the dorky genius, actually finding himself feeling a little bad for the poor apple tree. “Don’t worry,” he muttered, patting the rough bark. “It wasn’t your fault.”

There was something very adorable about watching Peter trying to comfort a tree, both Tony and May observed. Their kid’s heart was so pure and kind it was blinding.

Peter snatched an apple off a low-hanging branch and, before Tony or May could stop him, bit into it. “Wow,” he mumbled through a mouthful of fruit, “this’s really good! Can we pick some?”

“That’s what we’re here for!” May sang. “Did you check for worms before you bit into that, Petey?”

“Worms?!”

Tony shook his head in fond exasperation. Peter spat his mouthful of apple on the ground in disgust, chucking the half eaten red orb to the side. “Ew ew ew ew ew!”

“Buddy, I’m pretty sure there weren’t worms in there,” Tony suggested.

Peter shrugged. “But are you sure? Now we have to pick more apples just in case they’re all wormy.” He stuck out his tongue in a mature display of unhappiness.

“Thought you liked picking apples,” he questioned, suddenly worried that Peter had only been pretending to enjoy himself.

“No, no I do! It’s really fun! But now I can’t eat any,” he pouted. “I’m so huuuungry.”

He frowned in concern. “Why don’t we get some food and come back, kiddo? We can grab an extra coat from the car while we do.”

“Mr. Stark, I’m already wearing, like three of yours,” Peter laughed. He gestured to the layers of puffy jackets he was bundled up in, along with his favorite Spider-Man hat and thin black gloves.

“Actually, I think you need a scarf,” Tony observed. “We can’t have any spider-baby popsicles on our hands, now can we?”

Peter rolled his eyes. Tony began fussing over him like a mother hen, wrapping his own scarf around his neck and zipping up his third coat. He took the boy’s small hands in his and winced, rubbing them to bring some warmth.

“You’re gonna lose fingers if we don’t get you some better gloves, bud.”

“I’m fiiiine.”

Peter heaved the bag of crisp, red apples into his arms with ease. Tony and May grabbed their own separate ones and heaved them over their shoulders with a lot less ease. They headed toward the muddy dirt road, lugging their apples and stopping for a moment to admire some chickens.

“Ooooh!” Peter exclaimed suddenly, spotting a glimpse of orange behind the tall pine trees. “Mr. Stark, May! There’re pumpkins!” He jogged off.

“Don’t you wanna get food before this, Pete?” Tony called, following the boy.

“I’ll eat the pumpkins!”

“Look out for worms!” May teased. Tony found himself thinking of the classic nursery rhyme, Peter Peter Pumpkin Eater.

May found the perfect pumpkin almost at once. It was on the opposite side of the small field under a beautiful towering oak tree with red and golden leaves still on its branches. The pumpkin was a beautiful shade of dark orange and wonderfully round. She held it against the chest like it was a baby.

Tony didn’t have any particular pumpkin in mind that he wanted so he decided to let Peter choose for him.

“Are you sure? I don’t wanna get the wrong one,” Peter worried.

“It won’t be the wrong one, kiddo,” Tony promised.

“Get that lumpy one, it looks like his head!” May advised from across the pumpkin patch. Peter sniggered.

“I’m offended. My head is perfectly oval-shaped,” Tony objected.

“Smooth as a shark,” Peter muttered to himself, completely missing the perplexed look from his father-figure.

He picked up the lumpy pumpkin and then began to scavenge for a second one, humming. “This is Halloween, this is Halloween, pumpkins scream in the dead of night… ooh.” Peter knelt down and began to inspect this potential nominee.

It was huge. Wide and tall with a round face and a flat back. The stem was long and twisting. The color was beautiful.

It. Was. Perfect.

“I found it!” he yelled. May and Tony turned to long at him and Peter displayed his pumpkin proudly.

“Congrats,” said May, her grin wide. Tony applauded.

“Can we get it?”

“Of course, Roo.” He smiled, kneeling down to take the lumpy pumpkin while Peter stood up with his own. “Do you wanna get another?”

“Are you sure? I mean, I kinda do…”

“Yes, Petey, I’m sure.” Tony bent to press a quick kiss to his forehead. “Actually, I’d be delighted if you got another one. Really.” He loved seeing Peter so happy over a simple fruit. (Vegetable? Gourd?) Tony would gladly buy thousands of pumpkins if Peter could always be this happy.

Soon Peter had selected two more pumpkins, a wide, squat one, and round, light orange one. They made their way back to the parking lot and the barn, where lots of fresh produce stands were set up.

There was a beautiful, towering willow tree that Peter admired, watching its long limbs sway in the wind peacefully. He breathed in deeply, inhaling the scent of rain and hay and something just distinctly fall. He trotted back to where his family stood in a line to buy their pumpkins and leaned into Tony, letting him wrap strong arms around him and hug him close.

They bought their pumpkins and sat down at a picnic bench under the willow tree and basked in the sunlight. Tony left to the car and came back with a picnic basket akin to the ones in cartoons.

Peter’s eyes lit up when he noticed the mac and cheese in a plastic container and immediately he dug in. After inhaling his pasta, he dug through the basket. His eyes sparkled like stars.

“Rhodey made us brownies!” Colonel Rhodes’s brownies were the best. They were gooey and somehow always warm, with extra chocolate-chips and an oreo in the middle. Rhodey had drowned them in jack-o’-lantern shaped sprinkles. He had even included a bottle of whipped cream, though most of it had probably been used on the current brownie Peter had just bit into.

“Oh, yummy,” May said, helping herself to a large one. Tony took his own and sprayed almost as much whipped cream on it as Peter had.

Before he took a bite, he laughed. “Pete, how did you get whipped-cream on your forehead?” He balled up his sleeve and wiped it off. Peter squirmed away.

He played a quick rhythm on his pumpkin before glancing toward the various stands by the barn. “We should get apple cider,” he said, having a sudden realization. “I guess they probably wouldn’t go very good with brownies but maybe with pumpkin pie or something…?”

“Good idea, bud. How about some candy apples while we’re at it?”

“Yesss.”

Peter was bouncing in his seat while he waited for May and Tony to finish their sandwiches. He helped himself to a few more delicious brownies, trying to savor every bite. (And failing because they were so good.”

When they finished their food, they took a quick moment to put their pumpkins in the trunk of the car, then Peter led the way to the barn. At the back of the big room there was a large assortment of fresh produce, which May made a beeline to. On the right wall were four tall refrigerators, chock full of apple cider.

“Why are they in milk cartons?” Peter wondered, opening the door and pulling the juice out. “Here!”

“Just one? You need to hydrate, young man,” he teased, pulling out three more jugs.

“I won’t just drink apple cider, Mr. Stark.”

“Actually, I think your blood is gonna be 75% apples, kiddo.”

“Carrots or asparagus, Pete?” May called.

“Carrots?”

“Good choice, honey.”

Tony noticed wonderfully red candy apples displayed on one of those cupcake stands he always saw at fancy parties. He pointed them out to Peter, who grinned and asked if they could have some.

“That’s what we're here for, Petey-Pie.”

The young man at the stand wrapped the tree apples individually with cellophane and placed them in a bag.

“That’s smart,” Peter said as they joined May at the checkout line. “Apples probably wouldn’t taste good with a paper bag.”

The cashier recognized Tony when they bought their food. Her hand flew to her open mouth and she shook her head in amazement. “You’re… you’re….”

He offered a smile. Peter inched behind him and grabbed his hand. Tony squeezed his hand comfortingly and moved in front of him so no one could see his face.

The cashier began to check out their items robotically, staring at Tony for an uncomfortably long time before she blinked and asked, “Do you want a bag, sir?”

Once they stuffed the groceries into the trunk of Tony’s car, Peter admired the farm one last time. The big willow tree swayed gracefully in the brisk wind as if it were saying farewell.

Peter crawled into the back seat and slammed the door, curling up and shivering. Tony glanced in the back mirror and quickly moved to turn up the heat.

He rested his chin on the edge of the window. The position was far from comfortable but at least he could watch the trees fly past as they drove.

“You okay back there, Petey?” Tony asked, sounding concerned.

“‘M good. Just thinking,” he mumbled. It was hard to talk with his jaw pressed against a hard surface.

“You sure, bud?” Tony still sounded worried. Peter sighed.

“Stop worrying,” he groaned. “I’m fine.”

“Okay, Petey, I trust you.” If he hadn’t been driving the car he would have held up his hands in mock surrender. “But you know that you can come to me for anything, right? Even if it’s just a stubbed toe, okay?”

“I know, Mr. Stark, really.”

A snore filled the car, and they both laughed when they looked to May and realized she was already asleep.

“So kiddie, whatcha thinkin’ about?” he asked.

“How I’m gonna carve my pumpkin!”

~~~~~

Peter dramatically threw the three pumpkins he was carrying down onto the kitchen island, pretending to wipe sweat off his forehead. He snickered when May rolled her eyes.

Peter took off his layers of coats and threw them on the couch, hanging his scarf up and then ripping off his hat. His hair frizzed everywhere and Tony laughed, his eyes soft and adoring. He flattened it down with his hand and pulled Peter into a crushing hug, bending to kiss his still slightly puffy curls.

They sat down at the kitchen island and chose their respective pumpkins. Peter looked around. “Where’re the knives?” he asked.

“Oh, I know.” May stood up and rummaged through the upper cabinets, bringing out an orange carton. “Here!”

Tony watched nervously as Peter grabbed a carving knife from the box and stabbed the top of his pumpkin without any regard for his personal safety.

“Careful, bubba,” he warned. He was about to take the knife from Peter’s small hands and bend it into pieces for being so dangerous and trying to hurt his kid. “No lost limbs today, okay?”

Peter laughed and continued to cut the top of his pumpkin. He yanked the stem out and sliced off the stringy guts. He took an orange plastic scooper and started scraping the seeds and guts out of the inside. Tony took his own pumpkin and did the same, keeping a watchful eye on his reckless kid all the same.

“What are you carving Pete?” May asked.

“Secret,” Peter grinned, turning the pumpkin so they couldn’t see it. “You can see later!”

“Well, fine. What about you, Tony?”

Tony hadn’t given much thought about it yet. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he had an idea that might work. “Secret,” he said.

May sighed in amused exasperation. “Suit yourself, lumpy. I’m going with the classic.” She took a purple sharpie and started drawing.

“Why aren’t there Halloween Carols?” Peter wondered aloud. “I don’t know like, any spooky songs and it’s sad.”

“There’s that one, um…” Tony trailed off. He did know the actual name of the song, but the look on Peter’s face would be priceless. “Spooky Scary Pumpkins? Ghosts? Is that it?”

Peter slowly raised his head, his eyes wide. “What?”

“You know, that one you’re always singing,” May said, joining in. “‘Spooky scary pumpkins’ sounds right.”

Peter groaned and buried his head in his arms. “No. This isn't happeniiiiiing.”

“I believe the correct title is ‘Spooky Scary Skeletons, Boss,” said FRIDAY’s disembodied voice.

“Thank you!” Peter threw up his hands in relief. “Spooky scary pumpkins. Ugh. Thanks for the nightmares.”

Tony ruffled his hair. “FRI, play it for us uncultured zombies, will ya?”

The first few notes of the song played and Peter started headbanging exaggeratedly, doing a dance in his seat. “Such a bop,” he said to himself, then went back to carving his pumpkin.

A bop? Tony decided not to ask. He sketched out his idea on the pumpkin with a light pencil and rummaged through their carving tools.

“Mr. Stark, you didn’t get the guts out!” Peter protested.

“Don’t worry, bud, you’ll see. Trust me.”

Tony finally found what he was looking for. “A-ha!”

“Is that..?” Peter leaned over. “Is that a dremel drill? Isn’t that for like, trimming dog nails?”

“One of its many uses!” Tony switched it on. “Carving time.”

“Ooh. That’s cool, I wanna try!”

He handed the drill over to him. Peter turned his pumpkin around to the back and started carving. “Oh, so it only gets like the fleshy parts! The flesh? So then it kinda glows through.”

“That’s right,” he said. “It looks pretty cool when you put a candle in it.” Tony took the drill and got back to work. Their song was still playing in the background, and at some parts Peter would do a dance and sing along.

After about fifteen minutes of ridiculous chatter and multiple songs played, May jumped up. “Finished!”

“Already?!” Peter exclaimed. “Lemme see!”

“Just a sec.” May ran off and grabbed a candle from one of the drawers in the living room, then hurried back. She put it in the pumpkin and lit it carefully. “Ta-da!”

“Oooh!”

May had carved a traditional pumpkin with a big, spiky jaw, a triangle nose, and big triangle eyes. She had taken seeds and put them in the corners of the eyes to act as pupils.

“Oh, he’s cross eyed!” Peter laughed. “That’s really cool.”

Tony grinned. “Clever. I like it.”

“Thanks, Tony. I think I’ll borrow that drill from you when you’re done. I want to make a flower on the back.”

“Sure.” Tony continued working on theinrticate design, squinting and trying to make it as precise as possible. He caught Peter trying to sneak a peak and shooed him off cheerfully.

When Tony looked up to check on Peter, he nearly cooed. His kid had the most adorable look of concentration on his face. His tongue poked out between his lips and his brow was furrowed. Peter worked carefully, selecting the tools he knew would work best and using them delicately.

When Peter looked up again, the sky was considerably darker. He looked at the clock. “How is it already five?!” No way had he been working for one and a half hours straight.

Tony blinked and snapped out of his stupor. “Huh. Time flies, I guess. I’m about done, how about you, kiddo?”

“Almost… I kinda messed up a few details but I think it looks okay!” He scraped the pumpkin more and looked up. “There! Where are the candles?”

“Here you go.” May smiled and handed him a red candle that smelled like cinnamon. He took the lighter and dipped his hand in the pumpkin while Tony watched anxiously.

“Don’t burn yourself, baby.” He bit his lip in worry. “Be careful.”

“I am!”

May dimmed the lights and pulled the curtains shut. The candle glowed brightly in the dark room and Peter turned the pumpkin to face them.

May gasped. “Oh. Oh my goodness! Peter, that’s gorgeous!”

The boy blushed in the candlelight. “Thanks.” He looked to Tony, who had been strangely silent this whole time.

“Mr. Stark?”

“Petey….” Tony felt his arc reactor and in his mind, compared it to Peter’s intricate, detailed carving that he had spent so much time on. “Petey… you made my reactor?”

“Uh-huh! I kinda messed up some parts, but I think it looks pretty good. What do you think?”

“I… I… oh my god, baby, I love it. I love it so much.” He pulled his kid into a hug, squeezing him tight. Tony kissed his head and blinked away the tears in his eyes. Peter, surprised at first, hugged him back. “Thank you, Petey.”

“No problem,” he said, voice muffled in Tony’s sweatshirt. “Does it look good?”

“It looks beautiful, baby.”

“I had no idea you could make something like this,” May murmured, tracing the arc reactor with her fingers. “Wow, honey. This is spectacular!”

“Thanks.” Peter’s face heated from the praise and he pushed his head further into Tony’s chest. “What did you make?”

“I was wondering when you’d ask.” Reluctantly, he let go of Peter (but not without another forehead kiss) and grabbed the lighter, He lit the candle, turned it around, and-

It was Peter’s turn to gasp. “Is that me?!” He admired the glowing spider emblem with wide eyes. It matched the one on his suit exactly. “Oh my god!”

Tony beamed. “Do you see the resemblance?”

“I’m pretty sure you just stole my suit and like, made it into a pumpkin. It’s so cool! I love it, thank you!”

“It was my pleasure,” he said graciously, giving a little bow. “Where do you think we should put them?”

“Um, I dunno. Where’s a good spot?”

Tony looked around. Eventually they decided to put them on the mantle above the fireplace. Peter worried they might rot, but the man assured him they wouldn’t and turned off the fireplace just to ease his kid’s fear.

Peter took a look at the room. A few days ago he and Tony had draped bright orange and purple lights around the room and Peter had added some webs that would definitely leave stains. There was a black spiderweb table runner on the coffee table, and in the kitchen there stood a plastic cauldron filled with dry ice. Ghosts made of tissue and paper mache balls hung from strings by the fireplace and above the couch and tv. Peter took a black and orange oreo from a pumpkin shaped plate cheerfully.

“When’s dinner?” he asked, realizing how hungry he was getting.

“Are you hungry, bud? We can order a pizza, how does that sound?” Tony replied, smoothing down his curls and then ruffling them so they puffed back up again.

“Great!” Peter patted his curls back down and flopped on the couch, taking out his phone.

Only fifteen minutes later the pizza arrived. Peter jumped up happily and opened the box.

“It’s pumpkin shaped!” he exclaimed. “That’s so cool!” The pepperoni slices had been arranged in jack o’ lantern face and Peter laughed. He took four big slices for himself and sat down at the table while May joined him. Tony poured three glasses of apple cider and gave the biggest one to his kid, then sat down next to him.

Peter wolfed down his pizza in the blink of an eye and downed the cider just as quickly. May and Tony started on their second slices while he started on his fifth.

He was about to ask May if she knew that some spiders had blue blood when her phone rang. She smiled apologetically at them and stood up to take the call.

“Sandra? Oh, hi.” She wandered into the living room. “Uh-huh? Oh, that’s too bad, I’m so sorry.” A pause. “I could. Yeah, no problem. It’s okay. I hope everyone feels better.” May put her phone down.

“I’m sorry, guys. I have to fill in for a friend for a few hours.” She sighed. “Her twins are sick and she really needs this. I have to go but I’ll be back soon, okay?” May grabbed her coat and gloves. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

“It’s okay, Aunt May,” Peter said, offering a smile. “What time will you be back?”

“Around two.” She titled his head back to kiss his forehead. “Get some sleep, both of you. No scary movies. Larb you!” She headed toward the elevator.

“Larb you too!” he called back as the doors closed behind her. Peter sighed.

The room was oddly silent without May’s laughter, but soon Peter started chatting and laughing and they relaxed into their normal banter.

When they finished their pumpkin pizza, they sat down on the couch. Peter snuggled into Tony’s side and yawned, grabbing his Starkpad. He scrolled to a video and poked Tony’s shoulder.

“What’s this, kiddo?” he asked, wrapping an arm around Peter’s shoulders and pulling him closer.

“Buzzfeed Unsolved,” he mumbled. “That’s Ryan and that’s Shane.”

“Huh. That’s cool. They solve mysteries?”

“Sometimes. They don’t really solve them, I mean, it’s called Buzzfeed Unsolved, but they do talk about suspects or theories or whatever. Sometimes they do supernatural ones and they’re really funny. And spooky,” Peter rambled. Tony chuckled and turned his attention to the video.

The Haunted Halls of Waverly Hills, read the title. As the creepy introduction played, Tony frowned. The two men he assumed were Ryan and Shane were walking around a long, spooky hallway with cameras that made everything look like it was tinged green.

“You sure this isn’t too scary, Pete?” he asked, not wanting his kid to have nightmares.

“It’s not,” Peter grumbled. “I’m fine. This one is cool!”

“If you’re sure, Roo.” Tony still sounded skeptical. He was prepared to turn off that tablet the second Peter showed any sign of fright, but he never did.

“This week on Buzzfeed Unsolved we explore Waverly Hills Sanatorium as part of our ongoing investigation, ‘are ghosts real?’” said Ryan.

The camera panned to Shane as he shook his head. They went on to explain the history of the sanatorium. Peter giggled at their many jokes, especially when Shane made snarky remarks. Tony deduced that Shane was the sceptic while Ryan strongly believed in paranormal happenings. He was inclined to side with Shane, but Peter looked just as nervous as Ryan was when he walked down an empty hallway all alone.

“Pete, are you sure this isn’t too scary?” he repeated after a particularly gruesome description of the horrors that took place in that old building.

“Yes, Mr. Stark.” Despite his annoyed tone, Peter was smiling.

“Okay, okay.” Tony turned to press a tender kiss to his temple. “I just don’t want you to have nightmares.”

“I won’t. It’s okay.” Peter flopped against him and pressed the next video. “Promise.” He yawned.

The videos, Tony admitted, were pretty cool. He liked how they listed theories and possibilities instead of just leaving the mysteries unended. The two men were funny and entertaining, and he found himself enjoying the videos.

By now they had watched at least nine or ten episodes. It was easy to get lost in all the videos, which were only twenty minutes long each, but when you watched a few more, time had passed faster than you expected. When Tony checked the time he was surprised to find it was already nine-thirty.

“You tired, bubba?” he asked gently as Peter yawned. “You’ve had a pretty big day.”

Peter shrugged. “A little.”

“Do you wanna go to bed now, sweetheart?”

“Sure.” He stretched and yawned again. “Tomorrow’s Halloween, right?”

“That’s right,” he hummed. He helped Peter stand up and they made their way down the hallway. “Good night, baby,” he murmured, pulling him into a hug.

Peter felt a warm kiss pressed to his curls. “G’night.” He hugged Mr. Stark and stumbled into his bedroom, rubbing his eyes.

Tony watched with love shining bright in his eyes. He headed to his own bed and climbed under the covers, curling up and turning on the bedside lamp. He grabbed his glasses and perched them on the edge of his nose, planning to get a little reading done before he went to bed.

He couldn’t help but worry about his kid, who had just binge-watched ten episodes about terrible deaths and tortures. “FRI, tell me if he can’t fall asleep, or if he does and wakes up. Just tell me if he’s scared.”

“Certainly, boss,” the AI said smoothly. Tony nodded and began reading, though he barely took in a word, much more focused on the boy in the room next to him.

~~~~~

Peter thought he had been tired. He had nearly unhinged his jaw from yawning so much. But now, he lay in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, unable to sleep.

He shifted around, trying to get comfortable. Heavy blankets tangled around his legs as he thrashed. Peter sighed and mashed his pillow over his face.

After what felt like an hour (but in reality was only fifteen minutes) Peter rolled over and sat up, yawning and scratching the back of his neck.

He grabbed his Starkpad and earbuds. Peter only used one, because two was too overwhelming. He went to youtube and clicked on the first unsolved episode he found, just wanting to sleep.

The intro played loudly in his ear and Peter relaxed.

“This week on Buzzfeed Unsolved we’ll cover the Axeman Killer of New Orleans,” said Ryan Bergara. “One of the strangest serial killer cases I’ve ever read.”

“And you’ve read a lot,” Shane replied.

Ryan explained the timeline, which began in 1918 in, of course, New Orleans and ended around eighteen months later. He detailed the mysterious and morbid attempted killings, saying, “In chilling fashion, he only seemed to strike people while they slept in their beds.”

Just to make sure, Peter peeked out the curtain. He shivered and hid further under his blankets. He snickered quietly when Shane made a joke right off the bat.

When the video ended, he turned it off and lay back down. He scrubbed his eyes, feeling refreshed but sleepy at the same time.

Except now, he was having a lot harder of a time falling asleep.

Peter stared at his bedroom door nervously, expecting someone to burst in brandishing an axe.

It never came.

He watched apprehensively, knowing this was stupid, and rolled over so he faced the wall.

Now his back felt even more exposed. Peter shivered and faced the door in a panic, swearing he heard something.

Nothing.

He sighed shakily and curled up under the blankets, his heart racing and his eyes wide. The shadows seemed to dance and his eyes flitted from corner to corner as he expected some creature with razor sharp teeth to come leaping out of them.

A chair, which he had thrown some dirty clothes on the other day, now looked like some skeletal creature with a huge head that could swallow him in one bite.

Peter, in a sudden burst of adrenaline, threw off his covers and sprinted the few feet down the hall to Tony’s room, the door slamming open. Peter leapt onto Tony’s bed, shaking, and wrapped his arms around the man.

Tony went rigid with surprise. “Peter?” He straightened up, squeezing his kid tight protectively and looking murderously around the room for the source of Peter’s fear. “What is it, baby? Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

Peter shook his head and crawled shakily into his lap, pressing his face into his chest. “Petey? What happened?” His voice was soft and gentle but somehow worried and protective at the same time. “Did you have a nightmare?”

Peter sniffed and blinked a few tears out of his eyes. His cheeks heated in embarrassment. He wilted in Tony’s arms both out of shame and overwhelming relief that he was safe now.

“Oh, baby,” he cooed. “You’re okay, I got you, you’re okay. I’m here, shh.” He kissed his delicate brown curls. “I’m here, I’m here.”

Peter sighed in relief and squashed his nose against Tony’s reactor. “‘M sorry,” he mumbled.

“Why are you sorry, bubba? You didn’t do anything wrong, okay?” Tony murmured.

Peter nodded. “I- I just got scared.” His voice cracked and he tried not to cry.

“Oh, sweetheart, it’s okay, you’re okay. I got you. Nothing’s gonna happen to you, ‘kay?” He brushed his fingers through his curls. “Pete?”

A soft snore filled the peaceful quiet of the room. Peter’s breathing was slow and even, his face lax. Tony’s face softened. He carefully maneuvered Peter’s limp body under the war covers and wrapped his arms around him, pressing his nose into his curls. “I won’t ever let anything hurt you, kay?” He sighed in contentment, holding his kid tightly. “I love you so much baby.”

Tony’s eyes fluttered shut. “G’night, sweetheart.”

~~~~~

Taglist: @imissyoutoo @aj-that-person @tonystark-deserves-better @nathaly-ab @skeeter-110 @peter-and-tony-vlogs @teammightypen @joyful-soul-collector @loveliestdisappointment @depuella @scwene-qween @honeythepooh @pixiethefirecat7 @spider-man-lover @jami161 @bringitonvoldie @queen-of-sarcasm-25 @roxy3457 @memilon @iron-loyalty @gralaca @bitchingpretty @pillowspace @thatminecraftgal @clockworkteacup @hatakehikari @wtfischeese @keep-a-bucket-full-of-stars @skydiving-without-a-parachute @yansi1923

If you want to be added/removed let me know!

~~~~~

/ST*RKERS DNI/

#FINALLY finished this #Happy Halloween!!!#peter parker #tony stark #may parker #aunt may is the best #pumpkin picking #pumpkin patch #pumpkin carving #tw knives #knives tw #irondad and spiderson #aunt may and tony are best friends #protective tony stark #worried tony stark #scared peter parker #buzzfeed unsolved #halloween tw #st*rkers dni

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skellebonez · 3 years

Note

58! With a certain King and a red fiery boi ;) Poor red boy deserves a better dad, in my opinion.

Oh yeah he definitely does. Warning: hints of past parental abuse, under read more for length only though.

“You don’t have to be afraid.”

“C’mon Red, you can’t keep running off like this!” Wukong shouted after the fire demon, jumping to land in front of him and cut off his exit back to his boat. “You’re worrying MK and Mei, hell you’re even worrying Pigsy! Do you want them to worry about you!?”

“Well that shouldn’t be happening because I can take care of myself,” the red head snapped, trying to push past the monkey to no avail. “Let me past!”

“No, not until you tell me what’s going on!” Wukong yelled, reaching for Red on his left when he should have reached for his right and letting him get an opening to rush past him. “Hey stop!” Red Son paid no mind to him. “I SAID STOP DAMN IT!”

He reached out, grabbing the back collar of Red Son’s jacket to stop him... and Red Son yelled before bringing his hands up to cover his face. No, that was not a response in anger. Not in confusion either. Wukong knew that yell from centuries ago too well.

Red Son was afraid.

Wukong wrenched his hand back in surprise, watching as Red Son flinched away. Flinched. That... was not the reaction he had expected. “Are y-”

“I’m fine!” Red Son snapped, turning away from him sideways and scrunching up his shoulders as it to protect himself from another grab from the Monkey King. “You-you just startled me.”

The two stood for a moment, Red Son gripping his jacket and Wukong could see his knuckles going while as his hands shook almost unnoticeably. Something was a lot more wrong than he had originally thought.

“... I’m sorry,” He said, holding up his hands to show Red that he wasn’t going to grab him again. “Please, just... sit down. Stay there, ok? We need to talk. Just talk.”

There was more silence and then Red Son nodded his head stiffly before sitting on the ground, head ducked and eyes hidden in his lightly sparking hair. Wukong gestured for one of his mountain monkey’s attention, giving it instructions before moving to sit beside Red, just within arm’s reach but far enough that they weren’t touching. He looked at him only out of the corner of his eye, pretending to pay more attention to the view of the far away ocean and Flaming Mountains instead. “Talk to me. Tell me what’s on your mind. It doesn’t have to be the whole answer, just start with anything.”

It took a moment. A long moment of silence, and if this had been the same time as the first day they met back when he was known as Red Boy he wouldn’t have had the patience to wait for him. But he had plenty of practice with that now.

“... I..” Red Son started, trailing off and groaning as he rubbed his hands together. “I just... need some time alone to think. That’s why I keep coming here without telling anyone. I wanted to be somewhere... somewhere mother and father wouldn’t look...”

Ah. So it was related to that. Wukong sat straighter, turning slightly so Red Son would know he had his attention.

“... I was never really scared of my father until... Until the White Bone Spirit,” Red began to explain. “He tried to kill me. Called me a-a traitor! And if my mother had not intervened...” He took in a shaky breath. “I can’t stop thinking about that. I’ve TRIED but every once in a while when I think I’m happy again I’ll just hear his voice and remember how it felt to be that close to being crushed by my own father... So I just come here. To walk in the flames. To hide in the caves. Just so I can forget for a while... It never lasts though so... I keep coming back.”

Wukong frowned, biting his lip and wondering what he should do or say before deciding to move closer. He paused with Red Son flinched again, holding up his hands. “You don’t have to be afraid,” he said softly. “Trust me. Please. MK trusts you and I promised him I’d do the same. Can you return that?”

More silence. Red Son tensed and for a split second he looked like he was going to bolt. But instead he nodded and Wukong took that as a que to slowly, very very slowly, wrap him in a careful hug and tuck the smaller demon’s head under his chin.

“You can come here any time you like, ok?” He whispered softly, feeling Red relax and start to shake. He felt the heat of his tears before he felt the steam hit his face. “Any time, no reason needed. Just promise me you’ll tell MK or Pigsy before you do.”

“O... Ok...” Red Son whimpered out, sounding for all the world like the most tired being on the planet as he leaned into the Monkey King completely.

“Ok,” Wukong repeated, letting the younger demon breath shakily and cry against his armor as he held him. Things had become so... so wrong, so backwards. He remembered how his parents fight tooth and nail for him, once upon a time, back when they needed the iron fan to continue their journey west. They loved their son. And now he was terrified of them. This wasn’t just from the White Bone Spirit. This was something that had been happening for a long time. What had happened in the centuries he had been gone when Red Son had rejoined his mother? What had she done to the boy?

Wukong... Wukong didn’t know if he could fix this. But he would damn well try.

Just as it seemed that Red Son had cried himself out the mountain monkey that Wukong sent off returned, a basket carried on it’s back.

“Ah, good, thank you little one,” Wukong pulled back from Red Son and did not miss how he initially tried to follow him so they would not break contact before pulling back himself. The Monkey King took the basket, carefully remembering to scratch the monkey behind the ears before it ran off, and set it beside them. “Here, you’re going to need something after that.” He reached in and pulled out a bottle of cold tea and a chilled bun.

Looking at the offered food for a second longer than the elder was comfortable with, Red Son eventually took them and ate a bite of the bun slowly and quietly. He hummed as he swallowed his first bite. “I... expected peach,” He said, smiling softly.

“You seemed like more of a lychee kinda guy.”

And Red Son nodded, seeming to realize the implication of Wukong keeping his favorite fruit on hand to make homemade treats with as he continued eating his lychee bun.

#*taps Red Son* this boy hold so much trauma #he holds too much trauma #someone take it away he deserves none of this #Rainy Talks AU #red son #monkey king #sun wukong #dad wukong #lego monkie kid #monkie kid #also i have come to the conclusion #that red son changed his name from red boy #prompt fill

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passivenovember · 3 years

Text

@coffeeandchemicals (aka the sweetest angel bb) asked: For the drabbles, 55 or 60 or 72 with harringrove! Please and thank you!! 💙

55. “Our first date is a picnic. On a beach..under the stars? Have you swallowed a romance novel? Do I need to call a doctor?

Paper Angels.

The things is. Steve’s always had a sixth sense when it comes to falling in love. Can smell that shit from a mile away, the reeking infatuation that turns his already liquified brain into something like sludge. Mashed potatoes with too much milk, or something.

And it used to be that Robin would point it out in that usual way of hers, before Steve became a pro at monitoring his own downfall. Pick your tongue up off the floor, dingus.

And it used to be that Steve would take it like. A basketball to the back of the head, the realization that he was bleeding out in an open field for fucking whoever. Nancy Wheeler or Mark Lewinski or Brittani Clark. Robin could always sense it when Steve’s feelings started leaking out of his ears, but.

Billy Hargrove was something else entirely.

Neither of them saw it coming. The pushes and snarky comments that morphed into butterflies and concealed smiles under the light of the full moon, it was like.

Crossing a deserted road only to be fuckin’. T-boned by a cyclist who doesn’t have their lights on, or something.

One day they were enemies. Avoiding each other like the plague--Billy actually gagged when Steve passed by him at parties. Called him Steve “Sloppy Seconds” Harrington, and. Yeah. The feeling was fuckin’ mutual, alright?

Because Hargrove always wore too much cologne and Steve had the sneaking suspicion, after that night at the Byers’ when contact sports took on a whole new meaning with the sound of ceramic against his skull, that Billy perfumed his dick.

Sometimes guys did that, he’d heard. And if Steve had to bet, like, cold hard cash on it, Billy Hargrove was definitely one of those guys. And not that Steve really. Thought about it much or anything but kissing Billy was probably like licking the inside of an ash tray.

Just the thought of made him gag.

So, yeah. The feeling was mutual. The queasiness in Steve’s tummy was, like, disgust or something. Every time he saw that curly top above a sea of drunk high schoolers, he would start sweating a shit.

Bullets. Like he was going to face the electric chair, and. Steve had never thought for even a second that that feeling was mutual.

That Billy would be anxious to see him. Would escape the moment he heard Steve rounding the corner into whatever lame party was on the ducat this week, so. When they eventually became friends. Best Friends, close as a couple of girls, it felt like Steve had solved the most difficult puzzle in the universe.

They were shitfaced. Drunk enough to forget ceramic plates and nervous feelings, and Billy had tried to high-five him. Steve, on his way out for a smoke. Passed by with a little, well if it isn’t the leftover turkey, and. It would’ve been cool, but. They missed.

By a lot. Two guys who never sat on the bench during a game, they. Fuckin’ couldn’t land a high five from less than a foot away and that was it. Billy’s walls crumbled around them like so much graham cracker dust, and.

His eyes were pretty. Had they always been that pretty? Steve couldn’t remember but then Billy was leaning in, cheeks pink from laughter and whispering, You ain’t half bad, Harrington, into the shell of Steve’s ear.

Like it was a secret only the two of them could remedy, and. Billy pulled away. Winked, waggled his stupid, ridiculous tongue, and. When he passed by he smelled like summer rain. Black pepper and grapefruit.

Steve closed his eyes and felt the love leaking from his ears.

Shit.

After that it was like surviving a forest fire. Billy would show up at Steve’s just before midnight with a six pack of Budweiser and a half smoked joint. On bad day’s he acted like coming to Steve’s house was a chore, like. Steve was holding him at gunpoint, preaching about commitments like Steve had even asked for his company in the first place, and.

On those nights it almost wasn’t worth it. The feeling of being close to Billy, it was. Hard to talk to him.

And it wasn’t like falling slowly. Through syrup or stacks of blankets, like his usual style, it was like.

Getting in the car and driving way, into the night, with no map and no funds and no clue of what the end would look like. Steve fell hard and fast and slammed into the ground until he was one with the molten earth, on the good nights, too. When Billy grinned and cracked jokes and fuckin’. Winked.

So. The good outweighed the bad. For months, for millennia, it seemed. Until Steve couldn’t remember a time when midnight didn’t signal the arrival of love. And he would take it, anything, everything, for just a peak at the person he knew was hidden under all that hairspray and chiseled skin, so.

When Billy showed up one night with his car packed full of shit, Steve grabbed his coat without a word.

What are you doin’, Harrington.

I’m coming with you.

No you aren’t, that’s not. Look. I just came to say goodbye, so.

Not that easy to get rid of.

Billy tried to fight him, tried to. Hold him off, or something. Like any force in the fucking universe would be strong enough to keep them apart.

Steve made a face.

And Billy knew what that face meant so he cleaned out the passenger side of the Camaro. Stupid shit like lamps and folded quilts, shuffling it all to the back seat where there was clearly enough space.

It was almost like. He had known what Steve would do.

It was like he’d been preparing to say no, baby. I don’t have enough room, see? I’m saddled with more than I can take already, and I just--

Almost like he was hoping Steve would insist, anyway, and.

“Go pack a bag, pretty boy.”

Steve would follow him anywhere.

Billy came alive in California. The bad nights stopped existing out in the open air, they hid instead. Under the blanket of nightfall, under the sling of Steve’s arm. They paid extra for a two bedroom apartment on the beach, because.

I’m not expecting you to. Sleep in my bed, Steve.

Right. They were still pretending.

The second bedroom sat collecting dust. Steve emptied his trash bag of essentials into the dresser in Billy’s room, because. The love was constantly ruining his shirts, these days.

Steve bled blue and gold. Blatantly. Because he never felt it before, this. Feeling. Like the sand is being washed from his skin. Like he’s curling up in bed after a long day of hard work.

Billy makes him feel that way, so.

Steve can’t hide it. And he doesn’t try to. Not when they watch cartoons together on the couch, not when Billy sucks a hole into his neck under their blanket in their bed and asks, we goin’ steady? Like it’s even a fucking question, or something, but.

Steve realizes they went backwards. Won the game before actually learning the rules.

Do you wanna go on a date with me? He asks one morning. It’s raining, so Billy isn’t surfing and Steve isn’t sketching out on the porch, and.

It seems as good a time as any.

Billy has milk running down his chin when he looks up, eyes so blue and wide like he never expected it to fucking happen. Isn’t this a date?

What?

Right now, Billy says through a mouthful of Lucky Charms. We’re eating. Alone. Making eyes at each other over our meal--

Steve snorts. This isn’t a date.

And Billy’s face, fucking. Falls. He rinses his plate in the sink and kinda, doesn’t turn back around. Steve doesn’t know how he fucked it up already.

Bills?

What’s a date look like then? And that. Makes Steve laugh.

You’ve been on, like. So many dates, baby.

Not with you. Billy says flatly. When he turns around again his cheeks are pink. Not from laughter, but. From something else. I never went on any dates with you, so. How would I identify one in a crowd.

And Steve knows. Instantly, knows he’s not going to get out of this one.

Perfect first date shit, alright, I can. I can do that. He leans back in the hideous avocado green chair Billy picked out and. Sucks on his bottom lip. We have the day free. Because, um. It’s the off season. Right after labor day and, uh. The shop’s getting ready to shift into winter.

Billy grins. So in your perfect scenario we’re broke?

Listen, asshole wouldja just--

Alright, baby. Billy sits in the chair across from him and looks, fucking. So pretty in Avocado Green. I’m listening.

So Steve tells him. Their perfect date begins and ends with ease, it’s as simple as breathing. The way it’s always been for them. Natural. Steve packs a basket with a goddamn. Charcuterie board and like, fresh fruit and shit. The sun sets and Steve gets down on one knee and--

Our first date is a picnic. On a beach..under the stars? Billy doesn’t look even a little bit like laughing, not. Not when his nose goes all bunchy. Have you swallowed a romance novel? Do I need to call a doctor?

Steve isn’t really in the mood for jokes.

He covers his face with his hands, because. They went backwards. Never even put labels on it, or second guessed anything because Steve won the lottery. That night when the high fives went up in smoke, he.

Got everything he ever wanted.

Billy tugs at his wrists. Yanks and soothes and rearranges Steve’s skin until they’re chest to chest against avocado green. His eyes are teary. Fuck.

I didn’t mean to make you cry, baby. Steve says. ‘S a bad idea anyhow, too much pressure. You mean a lot and I fuckin’. Made you cry. Tears were never a part of the deal.

Billy lets Steve wipe his cheeks and then he’s smiling.

Not grinning or smirking or teasing, but. Happy. We could make this a date.

Steve shrugs. Yeah, I guess we could.

Pack some sandwiches, sit on the patio. Billy winks. Just like all those nights when neither boy could give their emotions a name. Take away some of the pressure.

I kinda dig the pressure, though.

Were you really gonna get down on one knee? Billy whispers. At the end of our first date? You know the statistics on divorce are--

Against his will, Steve’s chucking.

And on the first date? Billy tuts, cheeks pink again. You know I don’t put out for any ol’ pair of brown eyes, Harrington. I wait until at least the fourth date.

It’s been five years.

So marry me. Billy says. On Tuesday or something, we can. Go to the beach or whatever. Elope.

And.

Just like that night. With the Camaro stuffed to the brim, and Billy gripping his fingers like a lifeline in a storm, Steve has no choice. He never did, because. Yeah.

He kisses Billy, each cheek, both eyelids, before carrying him to their bedroom and wonders. If they’ll ever start at the beginning.

#harringrove #steve harrington #billy hargrove #again #this ran away with me #I hope it reads alright #domestic fluff #california #running away together #first dates

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veliseraptor · 4 years

Text

this place could be beautiful

[READ ON AO3]

@mdzsnet told me that it was Xue Yang’s birthday today and to my immense surprise I actually managed to finish writing something for it! possibly the fastest 4k I’ve ever written, I don’t know, nobody check me on that.

The summary here is “five steps taken by Xue Yang toward domestic living, and one time he really wanted it.” A big thank you to @paradife-loft for the prompt and @ameliarating for an extremely quick beta-ing job. Remaining fuckups mine.

content warning: allusions to sex that’s inherently dubious on account of identity issues, semi-graphic descriptions of violence both actual and imagined, canonically character death/suicide, I didn’t fix anything and I’m sorry.

---

Xue Yang sometimes wondered if Xiao Xingchen was aware of a-Qing’s little expeditions and just pretending he wasn’t, or if he genuinely thought she was just that good a scavenger. He leaned a little toward the former, because while Xiao Xingchen was an idiot in a lot of ways he wasn’t actually stupid, and a-Qing was only a middling liar at best.

He’d followed her the first time she’d gone out collecting scraps, mostly because he didn’t trust her as far as she could’ve thrown him and had smelled the lie on her the second she gave it. He told Xiao Xingchen he was going to take a nap and then slipped out, following after her as she pickpocketed her way through Yi City with the expertise of a great deal of experience.

His respect for her rose a notch. Though he did have to wonder how she knew which targets to hit, without being able to see.

Xue Yang was pretty sure she couldn’t. Pretty sure.

He left her to it, deciding that she wasn’t up to anything that needed to concern him. When she came back bearing a not insubstantial amount of money, claiming she’d traded fruits of her scavenging for it, Xue Yang just barely managed not to laugh.

He followed her a couple more times, just to make sure that she wasn’t up to anything other than petty theft. As far as Xue Yang could tell, she wasn’t.

Fine, then. Wasn’t like they didn’t need the money, and he wasn’t going to judge.

Xue Yang actually wasn’t following her when he heard her shrill voice saying, “are you really going to come after a blind girl? Shame on you!” And then, shriller, “let me go!”

Huh.

Xue Yang considered. If she’d gotten herself caught in some trouble, she could get herself out of it, or not. Didn’t make a lot of difference to him, really. Maybe she’d get herself killed, and then he wouldn’t have to deal with having her around all the time. If a-Qing couldn’t help herself then she didn’t deserve Xue Yang doing it.

Just out of curiosity, though, he turned and headed in the direction of her raised voice, following it into a narrow alley between buildings. A-Qing was boxed in at the end of it, three boys cornering her, laughing. One of them had her stick and was poking her with it. She didn’t look hurt yet, just spooked, at least so far.

He leaned against one of the walls and watched, head cocked.

It occurred to him that Xiao Xingchen would probably be disappointed if a-Qing didn’t show up for dinner.

One of them must’ve felt him looking and turned around. “Get lost, cripple,” he said.

“Why?” Xue Yang said lazily. That question seemed to stump him, and Xue Yang laughed. He flushed.

“Get out of here,” he said again.

“Don’t want to. Go ahead. Didn’t mean to interrupt.” The other two turned around. Xue Yang grinned at them. “Seriously,” he said. “Keep going. I’m curious what you’re going to do to her. There’s so many options.”

A-Qing was frozen. Xue Yang tapped his fingers against his leg. The good one. The other one was almost all the way healed now, if still frustratingly weak. Good enough for them, though.

“You know what someone’s skull sounds like when it cracks?” he said. The idiot who talked first looked blank, and Xue Yang let his grin widen. “Really? No?”

“What,” idiot number one said. Or started to.

“Like this,” Xue Yang said.

It was a nice crunch, the sound of bone meeting the wall with the kind of force he put into it. Good, satisfying. The second time caved in the side of his head.

The other two bolted, which was really too bad.

A-Qing was taking quick, panicky sounding breaths. Xue Yang dropped the corpse-in-process he was holding - still twitching, he’d be gone in a minute or so - and chewed on the inside of his cheek.

“Wow,” he said. “Idiots, right? Thinking they can fuck with you and not get in trouble.”

She didn’t say anything.

“See you when you get back,” he said. “Steal something nice for me.”

He walked back to the yizhuang with a bit of a spring in his step. A-Qing did not bring him anything nice. It was a good thing he hadn’t really expected her to.

Well. There was his good deed for the next five years. He hoped she was grateful.

II.

Xiao Xingchen might be a famous cultivator who had poems written about him, might be a capable fighter who had suppressed countless monsters and ghosts, but, Xue Yang quickly learned, he didn’t know shit about dealing with money.

He overpaid for everything. When Xue Yang pointed it out, he smiled and said if they’re asking that much then they must need it.

Mother of fuck, it was a miracle he hadn’t starved to death after giving away everything he had.

It was funny, the first couple times he went out shopping with him. The first time he didn’t even technically go with him, just watched from a distance as Xiao Xingchen got himself fleeced and cheated, the naive idiot.

It was less funny when he came back to the yizhuang apologetic about the lack of food, and he had to go to sleep if not hungry then at least less than satisfied.

The next time, Xue Yang went with him. That went a little better, though mostly Xiao Xingchen ignored his attempts to push the prices down. At least he could keep them from giving him bad produce.

By the third time, he was genuinely annoyed by the whole process, and the hungry, anticipatory way that the shopkeepers eyed Xiao Xingchen like he was easy prey, which of course he was, but not theirs.

Mostly, though, he just let Xiao Xingchen deal with it. He never asked, anyway.

The next time Xiao Xingchen picked up a basket and announced he was going shopping, and did they want anything, Xue Yang got up and tugged it away from him. “I’ll go,” he said.

Xiao Xingchen seemed startled. A-Qing sat up, expression immediately turning suspicious. “You’re offering to do something?” she said. “Something helpful?”

“Yeah,” Xue Yang said. “Turns out. World’s full of surprises, isn’t it?” He kept his eyes on Xiao Xingchen, who paused and then smiled.

“You don’t have to,” he said.

“Course I don’t,” Xue Yang said. “You think I’d do anything I didn’t want to, Daozhang?”

A-Qing was still frowning at him like she thought he was up to something. Xue Yang had no idea what she thought he was up to, and kind of wanted to ask, but he didn’t care enough to do it.

“I really don’t mind going myself,” Xiao Xingchen said.

“Uh huh,” Xue Yang said. “What, you don’t trust me?” He pitched his voice light and teasing, and Xiao Xingchen shook his head with another smile.

“All right,” he said. “If you insist.”

“I do,” Xue Yang said, hooking the basket over his arm, and waltzed out toward the street.

“Thank you,” Xiao Xingchen called after him, and Xue Yang’s stride hitched a little. He paused, just for a moment, then called back over his shoulder, “you’re welcome, Daozhang!” and left.

Yi City’s merchants were not ready for him. It was great. It was the most fun he’d had in a while.

It wasn’t until he was on his way back that he realized that the most fun he’d had in a while was shopping for groceries. That he’d enjoyed it. Admittedly, the enjoyment had mostly come out of terrorizing the people who’d been cheating Xiao Xingchen for weeks, but still.

And he was looking forward to bringing the fruits of his work back, and dropping them on Xiao Xingchen’s lap, and the smile that would curve his lips. Thank you, my friend, he’d say.

He shook himself. It was funny, wasn’t it? Nobody else got the joke, at least not so far, but he knew.

Thank you, my friend, Xiao Xingchen would say, smiling. He’d scream if he knew the truth. Xue Yang looked forward to hearing it.

III.

Today was a nothing day.

Nobody else called them that, but that was how Xue Yang thought of them. There was one every ten days where Xiao Xingchen decided that nobody was working - Xue Yang didn’t know why, something about how it was important to take time to rest and be still. They were quiet and lazy and dull and Xue Yang had begun to really enjoy them.

Not just because it meant Xiao Xingchen didn’t make him get up early, and often the chance to do other things in bed in the morning.

(That was new. New-ish. Sort of unexpected, but the good kind of unexpected. Xue Yang was pretty sure he’d never fucked the same person this many times before, and he was getting to like it - the learning what got to him, what he liked, what made him cry, how much pressure it took to leave bruises on Xiao Xingchen’s pale skin.)

Today was this week’s nothing day, so Xue Yang nuzzled up to Xiao Xingchen and scraped his teeth against the skin of his neck, hand sliding down over his stomach.

Xiao Xingchen hummed and caught his hand before it went far.

“Ah,” he said quietly. “Not this morning.”

Xue Yang frowned against his neck where he knew Xiao Xingchen would feel it. “Why not?”

“I have to go out today,” Xiao Xingchen said. His frown deepened.

“Out?”

“Wang-furen told me yesterday that her sister is having trouble with the ghost of their grandmother,” he said. “I told her I would take care of it as soon as I was able.” Xue Yang pulled back and stared at him.

“You didn’t say anything about this,” he said.

“You don’t have to come with me,” he said. “I expect it’ll be a simple matter - it doesn’t seem the ghost is malicious. But it is several hours journey, so I need to leave soon.”

“But it’s a nothing day,” Xue Yang blurted out. Xiao Xingchen’s eyebrows knitted together.

“What?”

“You know,” Xue Yang said. “The day where we don’t work and go out and help people, or whatever. That’s ours, you and me. And a-Qing.” A prickle of irritation started under his skin, at Wang-furen and her sister, for putting this on Xiao Xingchen, dragging him out, making him take care of their problems and they probably wouldn’t even pay. Or Xiao Xingchen wouldn’t let them.

Xiao Xingchen’s frown deepened.

“Once a week,” Xue Yang insisted. “There’s always one a week. It’s supposed to be today.”

Xiao Xingchen was quiet for a moment, and then let out a bit of a laugh. “It isn’t a rule,” he said.

“But-”

Xue Yang broke off. But it should be, he was thinking, irritation edging toward anger. But it’s supposed to be. This is part of how things go. We have a routine and Wang-furen and her ghost grandmother are ruining it.

He pulled away, sharply, and rolled out of bed. “Fine,” he said sulkily. “Better get going, then.”

The frown in Xiao Xingchen’s voice was audible. “This is...important to you?”

Xue Yang said nothing. He could feel his face getting hot. This, he thought, was why you didn’t expect things from people. They’d up and decide that some stranger’s stupid problem mattered more than his good day.

“It is,” Xiao Xingchen said slowly.

“Whatever,” Xue Yang muttered. He started collecting his clothes from where he’d thrown them on the floor.

“I won’t be gone all day.”

Just most of it. Besides, it was the principle of the thing.

He heard the rustle of Xiao Xingchen rising, his quiet footsteps, and fell still, tensing. His fingers brushed Xue Yang’s shoulder.

“I said I would go,” he said. “I can’t go back on my word.”

Of course not. Xue Yang’s lips twisted and didn’t answer.

“Tomorrow,” Xiao Xingchen said after another couple moments, his voice firm. “Would you mind...tomorrow, for a...nothing day...instead?”

Xue Yang turned to look at Xiao Xingchen, eyes narrowed. He was being mocked, he thought, or worse, humored. But Xiao Xingchen looked serious.

“You don’t have to,” Xue Yang said. “It’s not that big a deal.”

“No,” Xiao Xingchen said. “It’s a good idea. I hadn’t meant for it to be...but now that you’ve pointed it out, I think it would be nice. To have a day marked specifically for ourselves.”

Xue Yang blinked at him. Xiao Xingchen smiled.

“Tomorrow,” he said, slowly.

“Yes,” Xiao Xingchen said. “If it’s fair weather we can go to the river and swim. I think I would like that.”

Xue Yang could feel the tension starting to bleed out of him, almost against his will. “Hm,” he said. And then, cautiously, “yeah, all right.”

Xiao Xingchen smiled at him, then bent his head down and kissed him in that horribly gentle way he had sometimes. He pulled back too fast for Xue Yang to turn it into something else. “If you want something,” he said, “please feel you can ask.”

He opened his mouth, then closed it. The bizarre urge to laugh rose up and he let it happen. “Aw, Daozhang,” he said. “You’re sweet.”

“I know,” Xiao Xingchen said brightly. He paused, and then said, turning just a bit pink, “and I’ll make it up to you when I get back.”

Xue Yang felt himself grin. “That right?”

Xiao Xingchen’s flush deepened, but his smile stayed. “I’ll certainly see what I can do.”

You make it so easy, Xue Yang thought, and he wasn’t even entirely sure what it was.

IV.

A-Qing was sick.

Coughing, puking, dripping snot, the works. It was disgusting. Xue Yang had been wrist deep in someone’s entrails, sure, but he could deal with that. This? Much worse.

It was actually a relief that Xiao Xingchen had sent him off with a list of herbs he wanted.

“Or you could just let her die,” he’d said.

“No,” Xiao Xingchen said firmly, though with a flicker of his lips like he thought that’d been a joke, which it had, sort of, but also not really.

Xue Yang was pleased by the wary glances he got from the merchants as he walked through the market. They knew by now that he wasn’t someone they could fuck with, and these days didn’t even try. Sometimes he pitched insultingly low prices just to check, smiling with all his teeth.

Nobody’d tried to argue with him in a while.

He sauntered over to an herbalist and started looking over her wares for the things on Xiao Xingchen’s list. Nothing particularly rare or expensive, at least. A few things he didn’t recognize and had needed to ask Xiao Xingchen to describe.

Maybe he’d pick up something nasty and pretend he’d made an innocent mistake. Wouldn’t have to be fatal, or anything. Xiao Xingchen would catch it before she actually took anything, though, so it’d be pointless.

“On your own today?”

Xue Yang glanced up, a little surprised at being addressed, and the shopkeeper did look a little like she regretted speaking up. Xue Yang grinned at her, bright and friendly, and she relaxed. “Looks like,” he said.

“Is your family well?” Xue Yang blinked at her, and she gestured at the herbs he was collecting. “I only ask because of your choice of purchases.”

“They’re fine,” Xue Yang said automatically, and then, “my what?”

“Your...family?” The shopkeeper began to look nervous again. “That daoshi and the little blind girl.”

Xue Yang stared. And then burst out laughing. “Fuck,” he said. “Fuck, you think-”

She looked baffled, which just made him laugh harder.

“They’re not my family,” Xue Yang said. “That’s - I’m going to tell a-Qing you said that. She’ll hate it.”

“Then…” she looked even more confused. Xue Yang was tempted to reach out and pat her on the cheek. He just shook his head and smiled.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “You wouldn’t get it anyway.”

He paid something almost approximating a fair price for the herbs and walked away, still laughing to himself. He made it halfway back to the yizhuang before it stopped, very suddenly.

Caught on that ridiculous word - family - he’d missed the other thing.

On your own today? Like that was a surprise. Like he wasn’t supposed to be, or wasn’t expected to be. Incomplete in himself, like people saw him and looked next to him for someone else. Someones, apparently.

Xue Yang stopped. Obviously Xiao Xingchen was his and it was good that people knew that and could see it, and if anyone was going to kill a-Qing it was going to be him, so.

An eel wriggled through his guts and then curled around his stomach.

It wasn’t...exactly a bad feeling.

He wasn’t sure it was a good one, either.

Whatever, he told himself, and picked up his pace again, heading-

(Home.)

He ended up not mentioning the conversation at all.

Xue Yang was watching Xiao Xingchen weaving a basket when it happened.

The three of them huddled around a fire, a-Qing shivering even wrapped in a blanket, and he was tempted to throw something at her and tell her that if she couldn’t handle the cold she should just go inside. She wouldn’t, though. Stubborn idiot.

He leaned his elbows on his knees and propped his chin on his hand, just thinking, just - watching. A smile pulling at his mouth. Xiao Xingchen wasn’t smiling, his expression serious and focused the way he got when he was concentrating on something.

It wasn’t his favorite Xiao Xingchen expression, but it was a good one. Up there with the one he made when Xue Yang made him laugh, helpless and unrestrained, and the one he made when Xue Yang had his mouth on his cock and he was coming apart.

His eyes dropped to Xiao Xingchen’s hands, watching the sure and confident way they moved, and he wondered if they got enough materials if Xiao Xingchen could sell his work. Maybe he’d put the idea to him. Might be able to bring in some extra money, get another blanket for the winter. Maybe next year-

Xue Yang’s thoughts hitched.

Next year.

Typically, Xue Yang did not plan very far ahead. He kept his expectations for the future relatively low, and his plans fairly immediate. There was no point in anticipating a future that might never come, or might come in a shape that you could never foresee. Better to just be able to react, to improvise and adapt and change course as necessary.

The past two and a half years, he’d been biding his time, he’d been waiting and playing things out as they came. Knowing he could move on whenever he wanted, could end this whenever he wanted.

Next year.

Xue Yang dropped his hand from his chin and sat up, an alarm shrilling at the back of his head. You’ve settled, it said. You’ve been leashed, you’ve been tamed.

Get out. Get out now.

His fingers itched. The back of his neck itched. His breath caught in his chest and he rocked back like he’d been shoved.

Xiao Xingchen stopped weaving and turned his head in his direction.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“No,” Xue Yang said automatically. “No, I’m good.”

The alarm went quiet. His thoughts went quiet. Slowly, the tension bled out of him.

So what?

So what if I stay? So what if I keep this? Isn’t it mine? Don’t I deserve it?

Besides. Next year was next year. Why worry about it now? It was just thinking. It wasn’t like he was ruling out anything else. It wasn’t like he couldn’t change his mind later. Wasn’t like he was committing to anything. And even if he was - so what?

This life was his, now. Why should he have to let it go?

“Are you sure?” Xiao Xingchen asked.

“Yeah,” Xue Yang said. “I’m sure.”

ONE.

Okay. Okay.

So that hadn’t ended up going as planned, but it was fine. He hadn’t expected Xiao Xingchen to do that, the idiot - why, why would he do that, why turn his sword on himself, why did he have to go and-

But it was fine. Xue Yang knew how to bring him back. And yes, all right, he’d be dead and not the same as he’d been before, but that was fine, too. They’d figure it out. And Xiao Xingchen would make a glorious fierce corpse.

As soon as he woke up, they’d start over.

He washed him up carefully. Cleaned the blood off his hands, washed his face and changed the bandage over his eyes to a clean one.

(Xiao Xingchen hadn’t liked him doing that. He got so self-conscious about it. Xue Yang brushed his fingers against his eyelids, collapsed into empty sockets, and reminded himself to mention that he thought they were beautiful.)

Xue Yang’s hands stuttered a little cleaning the open wound across his throat. It didn’t look too bad, really. Shuanghua’s edge was very sharp, the edges neat and clean.

He pulled his eyes away and checked the talismans again; they were right, obviously. Xue Yang knew what he was doing here, better than anyone still alive. Now he just had to wait.

Everything should be perfect for when he woke up, though. That’d been - a bad argument, ugly, Xiao Xingchen had said some nasty things that’d hurt but it didn’t matter now, it wasn’t important now. He’d have to figure out what to do about a-Qing. Xue Yang wanted her dead, but Xiao Xingchen liked her. Maybe it’d make him happy, having her around still.

He’d just carve her eyes out, make her blind for real. Settle for that.

Xue Yang cleaned up the house - their house, the house they’d shared, repaired together. He started with just the coffin home itself and then moved on to the courtyard, because Xiao Xingchen hadn’t woken up yet and he’d be happy to see that, too; he always liked it when things were clean.

He’d always liked it when-

Xue Yang’s thoughts stuttered, like his hands.

He cleaned and polished Shuanghua and then placed it carefully out of reach - he’d give it back, of course, eventually, but not until he was sure that Xiao Xingchen could be trusted with it, that he would be good.

And he would be. This was - this was better, really, than before. Xiao Xingchen knew him, now, and as a fierce corpse Xue Yang would be able to control him and keep him from doing anything stupid, like - like cutting his own throat, say. Xiao Xingchen would only do what he wanted-

He wanted Xiao Xingchen to give him that look, the amused-but-frustrated one that he got when Xue Yang said something a little too outrageous, where he felt like he shouldn’t laugh but still sort of wanted to. He’d still do that, right?

He won’t. You know he won’t.

Xue Yang bit his tongue and went to make dinner. Automatically, he started out making it for three, but he caught himself quickly enough and cut down the portions. Keeping his ears tuned for any sound, for movement, for Xiao Xingchen waking up and realizing that he wasn’t dead, that he still had his life and still could have his life, the one he’d been happy with before Song Lan had to come along and ruin everything.

Because he was going to wake up. Any minute now. It was taking longer than normal but that didn’t mean it wasn’t going to work. It had to work, there was no reason it shouldn’t work.

He laid out the food and sat down. It was dark out, it’d been hours, but that was okay. It was good that it’d taken this long, actually, since it’d given Xue Yang all this time to get ready, to make everything ready, everything in place the way that Xiao Xingchen would want it. Remind him that really, Song Lan had left him, everyone else had left him, but Xue Yang was still here and wasn’t leaving, would never leave.

Any minute now.

Everything was going to be all right.

#xue yang #xuexiao #xiao xingchen #the sad queer cultivators show #a wild fic appeared #the untamed #mdzs #mdzsnet

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how-masterful · 4 years

Text

Diamond In The Rough

Dhawan!master x reader

Summary: There's a reason you've been so drawn to the stars. There's a reason the Master took such interest in you. There's also a reason he brought you here on this specific planet, in this specific spot, on this specific night: Only he won't tell you just yet. Because that would spoil the surprise.

Notes: a VERY happy birthday to the one and only @plethora-of-imagines! My partner in crime, consultant in all things masterful, kneecap thief and reason I started this whole page! Have a fabulous birthday queen- this one is most definitely dedicated to you. I hope it lives up to the hype! ❤👑🥳

The universe was a very, very big place. This was a fact that you didn't need to travel with a time travelling alien to realize was undoubtedly true.

Learning about the universe on earth was... Limited. To say the least. Life beyond the stars was locked in the box of hypothetical conversation, pressed between the pages of countless philosophy and astrology books and stuffed into the midnight musings of "is there really life out there in the universe?"

For years that question plagued you, hung in your mind like a veil over the fading black spots of your draining day to day. Others would blame their extra terrestrial musings on too many drug trips in the 60's or college, some on late night conspiracy youtube binges. But you blamed yours on simple curiosity- 'if there truly was life out there, why haven't we met it yet?'

But as you grew older, that youthful wonder and curiosity in the universe became something of a fascination. You checked your horoscope every morning, held countless books on the subject- you’d even acquired an old telescope from a family friend. The lady you’d acquired it from said her father loved staring up at the stars every night, made it a part of his routine .You never understood why she looked so sad when she said it, but you soon came to understand the connection people had with the stars.

Or, better yet, the people who travelled among them.

People like the man who currently held your hand in his own.

"No way!"

"Yes way!"

"Master, you are NOT responsible for Roswell!"

"Really? Who are you going to believe, darling? Your 1000 year old alien husband, or a middle aged redneck blogger?"

You let out a small snorting laugh, the man beside you smiling fondly as you sighed and shook your head. You squoze your conjoined hands, allowing your head to rest back on the purple tartan blanket with a dreamy sigh.

The pair of you were on a hill, a large open plane of thick grass, lay on a blanket beneath an ocean of swirling stars. The TARDIS sat parked in the distance, the familiar shack you called home glowing with the fairy lights you'd insisted on hanging around the roof of the veranda. You'd both abandoned your shoes and socks, a picnic basket and empty plates sat to the side, a half empty bottle of wine and two glasses still standing. Your lipstick still freshly sat along the brim.

The Master had prepared the feast for you both, the basket full of fruits and delicacies from planets far and wide. You couldn't help but moan at the tastes and aromas that encapsulated your senses, the flavors causing beautiful chaos upon your tongue. You supposed beautiful chaos was the Masters speciality. You'd sat in his lap and opened wide as you allowed yourself to be pliantly fed, the guttural groan that escaped the masters lips as you licked the crumbs from his fingertips causing your whole body to tremble with delight. But now the pair of you lay side by side, the Masters coat abandoned and his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows as you both gazed up at the dazzling dark sky.

"I'm telling you doll, never dare a drunk alien prankster- They'll neck down a bottle and start a whole subgenre of conspiracy theories in a single afternoon."

The Master took a strawberry from the hole at his side, taking a bite and discarding the top as you continued to shake your head. He let out a disappointed sigh- but there was no bite behind the gesture.

"Don't tell me you believe the redneck."

You shrugged innocently, biting your bottom lip to hold back your smirk.

"I must admit I'm more inclined to, Master. That tinfoil hat makes them hard to resist."

The time lord let out a proud laugh, eyes scrunching shut as you allowed your attention to stray from the sky. You admired the playful scrunch of his nose, the small lines that formed besides his eyes and in the curve of his cheeks when he smiled. His lips would always part, exposing his teeth. You supposed his usual laugh acted as a snarl, a threatening gesture to all opposition that he took joy in causing such pain. But here, under the starlight, there was no malice behind his grin. This was simple, unstoppable happiness that held an innocence that was rare to the Master. Or at least, rare to the universe. It was a sight you knew happily too well.

"You still haven't explained, Master." You finally spoke, eyes soft as the timelord's head turned in your direction.

"It's simple, pet. There's this race from quadrant nine, all of them three feet tall and neon green-"

You lightly rolled your eyes and smiled.

"I don't mean Roswell, I mean tonight. But expect many more questions about that to follow."

The Master smirked teasingly, hair lightly falling just beside his eye.

"Noted- I'll be sure to dig out the photo album."

"Why here?"

The Masters smirk morphed into a light dusting of confusion. A scrunched brow, one eye slightly more squinted than the other.

"What do you mean, love?"

"I mean, why tonight? You said we had to be on this planet, on this exact night, this exact year."

Realisation soon spread across his face. He nodded lightly, lips pursed as he looked up in thought.

“What are you planning in that mischievous head of yours?”

The Master smiled, allowing himself to lay flat on his back once more. He pulled his hand from your own, allowing you to nestle into his side as he took hold of your other hand. Your rings clashed together with a gentle click of metal, the diamond shining bright in the white glow of the moon. You smiled, head softly resting upon the timelord's chest as his other hand rested upon his stomach, his hearts rhythmically thumping under your temple like thunder. He tilted his head to look down at you, brushing a stray hair from your face.

"The universe is... complicated, love. It's like, its like that book you were reading a couple days ago. God, what was the name? It began with an A-"

"Alice's adventures in wonderland?"

The time lord nodded, booping the end of your nose tenderly with his finger.

"That's the one. It's like Wonderland. And the time vortex is the rabbit hole. It's so easy to get lost, to fall deep within its walls and find yourself confused and discombobulated on the other end.”

You couldn't hold back your smirking laughter. The Master rolled his eyes, pretending not to notice your childish reaction to his choice of words.

“But when you do find your way it's… strange. Unusual. Every planet and constellation and dynasty a new nook and cranny for you to explore. Wolds upon worlds of crooked doorways and spiral tunnels and rooms full of doors that lead you right back to where you started.”

You hummed in thought. You supposed the universe was like Wonderland, in a sense- your life turning upside down the moment you followed the Time Lord into his TARDIS and down the rabbit hole. You snorted internally at the thought of the Master being somewhat of a white rabbit. He already had the pension for time down pat, and arguably his beard and messy hair acted somewhat as a fur coat. You wouldn't dare say it to his face, but judging by his unimpressed expression he’d already heard you.

“But then, once you’ve already reached the precipice of curiosity, you meet the people around you. Whole races and subspecies of people that exist in the same space and time and universe as you but are all so, so different. Some of them are bloody boring, like the Shushans. What's so impressive about having your mouth on the bottom of your foot? And don’t even get me started on the Yomno, i mean- how can your whole race tell the future from spitting on a grain of rice yet all be so god damn dull-”

“Master, you’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?”

“Getting annoyed at other races for being your version of boring.”

The timelord sighed, causing you to giggle. You gently nestled closer to his side, the Masters other hand reaching up to tenderly cup your jaw.

“But then, once in a lifetime, you find something truly unexplored. Like a disappearing cat, or a dodo that died long ago but refused to acknowledge its own extinction, or a girl that fell down the rabbit hole and into the hands of a certainly very mad man. A rarity among the rubble of the basic and mundane. I believe you humans refer to it as a diamond in the rough. The time lords were once like that.”

You let your gaze meet his, confusion dancing across your face.

“Diamonds in the rough?”

“No, they were the rough. I was the diamond.”

“Master!”

You playfully smacked him across the chest, causing him to chuckle deviously.

“As I was saying, before I was so lovingly interrupted, sometimes you find something beautiful. But also curious, a mystery that even the most uninterested man would be desperate to pry their nails into and figure out how they worked. What made them tick. What made them happy. What made them desperate..."

The Master's thumb trailed over your bottom lip, his own lips parted as you let out a trembling breath. His lips curved into a soft smile, watching you lightly squirm under his touch. He pulled his face in closer.

"Humans are simultaneously the shining diamonds and the disgusting scum of the universe. Civilisations have grown in their honour and crumbled at their hands but none of them, not one single human, ever have or ever will compare to you. You're the breathing equivalent of lightning in a bottle, a single drop of rain upon a field desperate for salvation from a drought. A blessing. A gift. My diamond in the rough of a universe that does not deserve a single part of her. I don't deserve you. But here you are.``

His thumb gently caught the tear that threatened to fall down your cheek. You reached up to cup his cheek, the timelord nestling into the palm of your hand. Your noses bumped together at the sudden proximity, and you could feel your heart racing like a steam train in your chest.

"But here I am." You smiled through your tears, a choked laugh emerging from your throat, your thumb softly caressing the apple of his cheek. You could feel his hot breath against your own, his eyes heavy with lust and adoration.

"With the man whom I love more than anything else in the universe, who's shown me things I could never have imagined and treated me like a goddess when compared to him? I'm positively minuscule."

The Master let out a huff, his breath caught in the back of his throat as your lips ghosted over his own.

"Don't you dare think you're anything less than the universe" He whispered, gaze fixated on your lips as your foreheads softly touched.

"Oh yeah? And what if I do?" You returned, your bottom lip brushing against the Master's own, tongue teasing at the time lord's top lip as he growled lowly, voice rough and restrained.

"i'll rearrange the stars themselves piece by piece until you understand just how pathetic it is in comparison."

The distance between your lips was essentially non existent.

"Prove it, Master. Please."

And prove it he did.

The Masters lips attacked your own with a desperate hunger, your eyes fluttering shut as the force sent you rocking backwards. You kept a tight grip on his face, keeping yourself steady as you pushed your lips back against his own. you'd be damned if the kiss were one sided.

His tongue slid in with ease, the hot taste of his tongue causing you to moan desperately against his mouth. The moan was reciprocated in earnest by the Master, his thumb gently pulling on your chin to allow his mouth further access to your own. You parted further, desperate to please, the sweet taste of your lips sending the time lord deeper into a spiral of lust.

You never knew how much you treasured the taste of his lips until the threat of their absence drew near, your own tongue forcing your way into his mouth like an anchor of perseverance. You took hold of both sides of his face, foreheads together as you hummed against his lips, causing him to crumble under your fingers with a chesty growl of dominance. He was hot fire, a delicious flame of lust licking and burning the inside of your mouth, and eventually the need for air forced your mouths apart.

The pair of you panted, breath escaping both parties as his arms wound tight around your shoulders, pulling you close. You gathered your breath as you nuzzled closer to the Masters side, lips red and glossy as you let your forehead rest upon his temple.

"That… Wow. I think you proved it."

"Did you ever doubt I would?"

You could hear the smirk in his tone, your eyes still fluttered shut as you came down from the high. You could still taste his mouth, the ghost of the strawberries still lingering on his tongue.

"I dunno Master… Still not seeing a tinfoil hat."

The eye roll was practically audible. The gasp certainly was.

"It's time, quick love, look."

You allowed your eyes to open, your gaze fixating on the stars above as they swirled in circular formation. Your mouth gaped open in shock as the pair of you sat up and looked to the sky.

"What are they doing?" You asked in wonderment, the Masters grip on you tightening.

"The whole reason we came here tonight. The once in a lifetime moment. Those drawings of the stars, the shapes they make. This is where they come from."

It was practically magic. Any other person would say it was witchcraft.

"Diamonds in the rough" you whispered, and the Master nodded triumphantly.

The stars swirled in ribbons of white, the dark black of the sky melting around them as the pin pricks in the black began to pulsate and grow with rapid speed. The stars began to link, intricate lines seared into the fabric of the sky like thread as the tiny stars began to merge and form into outlines of figures and shapes. A bear, a woman holding a sword, a pegasus with wings. Vast shapes of all sizes began to move and shift and form. Your eyes sparkled with wonder as the stars shone like diamonds.

It was too much to believe. Until they started to move.

Suddenly, the pegasus bucked up it's hind legs and began galloping across the sky. The woman drew her sword and charged, the scorpion's tale whipping in challenge. The bear plodded across the inky black, back pressed against the rams horns as it scratched itself as if upon a tree. All around you, hundreds of thousands of creatures moved and ran and flew across the darkness, the distant echoes of their commotion floating through the atmosphere.

A pair of lips softly pressed against your temple, trailing a line of kisses down until they ghosted over the shell of your ear.

"What do you think, darling?"

The Master whispered, breath hot on your ear and making you shiver.

"Its… Master its… Thank you. Thank you so much."

The tears from before had returned as the dazzling stars reflected in the sheen of your eyes, as the time lord beside you hummed in appreciation.

"Happy birthday, Y/N." The Master softly whispered, a tender kiss pressed to your cheek.

In an instant you return to facing him, your lips pressed together once more, stars a distant priority beyond the pull of your husband's lips.

The constellations above returned to their original position, the pulsating giants of the sky suddenly bursting like fireworks in the night. The stardust began to fall atop your heads like something out of a fairy tale, like raining pixie dust as the stars returned to their pin prick size, now shimmering like the lights around the TARDIS veranda.

But the pair of you were too busy for pixie dust. You didn't need the universe, or the stars, or magic at all.

You were already, well and truly, living happily ever after.

#sacha dhawan #the master #dhawan!master #dhawan!master x reader #dhawan!master / reader #Sacha!Master #fanfiction #fanfic #x reader #the master x you #the master x reader #master x reader #master x you #self insert #doctor who #bbc #BBC Doctor Who

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jiangchengrights · 3 years

Text

i wake to you at dawn

also available on ao3

“Alright, I get it,” Wei Ying mumbles to herself from where she lays, half of her face shoved into the pillow beneath her head, the other half just barely illuminated by the screen on her phone, “This dog is friends with that other dog now. Whoop de-fucking-do.”

Usually, these soft animal videos on Instagram don’t annoy her that much, even when they are about dogs, but she’s seen this specific post about fourteen times tonight. She can recite by memory the posts that come after it (a celebrity laying out in the sun, the tagline only the sunflower emoji, followed by one of Wen Qing, looking stern but fond as her lap is completely covered by both Wei Ying and Wen Ning, the tagline for that being ‘Reluctant jie’, and so on and so on) because she’s been frenetically refreshing all of her social media apps in order; she now knows the current lineup of instagram posts and tweets in her feed and has seen every godforsaken not-actually-that-interesting story of all of her friends (which isn’t fair to them, really, considering all of the important ones are here trapped in this same hotel as Wei Ying).

“Oh my god,” Jiang Cheng grumbles from the other side of the room where he lays on his bed (because of course he’s a part of her bridal party. Kind of. He’s walking her down the aisle tomorrow which, okay, makes him technically not a part of her party but she wasn’t about to let him skate free the night before her wedding)(or any of her bridal functions)(not that she needed to worry: he’d taken all planning rights away from her for her bridal shower and bachelorette party, he’d only tolerated the help of shijie) and throws his extra pillow at her, “If I have to hear that fucking dog video one more time, I swear to god, I’ll break your kneecaps. Do you hear me? I’ll have to drag you down the aisle tomorrow because you won’t be able to walk.”

“I thought you liked dogs, Shidi,” she replies, shifting ever-so-slightly so that she can squint at him past her phone.

“Wei Wuxian-”

“A-Cheng, A-Ying,” Shijie hums soothingly, from the other side of the room, “Please rest, for me. Your Shijie needs sleep too.”

“And if you don’t,” Wen Qing pipes up, “I know other ways to make you shut up.”

“Okay, okay,” Wei Ying whines, locking her phone with an audible click and resting it on the pillow next to her head, “I’ll try to sleep. For Shijie.”

Wei Ying does not sleep. She tries, she really does. Turns off all the lights and all the sounds and everything shiny that could keep her just engaged enough to stay awake. She tries to listen to the steadying breathes of her bridal party around her; Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang lay on the bed to her left, Shijie and Wen Qing to her right, Wen Ning passed out on the floor (he’d been invited, truly, to sleep in the empty spot next to her, only he’d fallen asleep long before everyone else and moving him to an actual bed proved to be very difficult when all the adults in the room were half (three fourths) wine drunk and giggling, so they’d just put a pillow under his head and wrapped him in their softest blankets and left it at that). She practices all the meditation tricks Lan Zhan had taught her; tries to calm her mind and her breathing and her heart.

It doesn’t work.

God, she wishes to herself, regardless of however illogical it may be, I wish Lan Zhan was in my bridal party.

With a sigh, she spends some time reflecting. She’s made so many bad decisions in her life, ones that have resulted in no less than three broken arms (sorry A-Cheng), many school detentions, almost getting expelled from university, a car accident that had left Shijie with seatbelt burns and a black eye from the airbag and Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, had left Lan Zhan, who’d been sitting prim and proper in the back seat, with scars that still lingered across the expanse of her back in the shape of all of Wei Ying’s nightmares. She’d chosen to hide away after that for three years in a different city with different hair and a different smile on her face and pretend like she didn’t feel a bone crushing loneliness in her entire being every time she thought of her Shijie, and didi, and her Lan Zhan who wasn’t really hers anymore, and that fact that in her self imposed exile she would never seen any of them again. That was, until Lan Zhan found her and dragged her back home and made her whole again.

Wei Ying was always whole, Lan Zhan would say, has said, I just helped Wei Ying find a way back. Will always bring Wei Ying back.

But with all that behind her and mostly wrapped up, this, tonight, right here, feels like her worst idea yet. She’d been so confident too! Had fought every naysayer, including Lan Zhan herself, with a cocky smile and a wave of her hand.

Brides shouldn't see each other the night before the wedding! She had laughed, and then laughed harder when Lan Zhan’s fingers had tightened where they dug into her hip, Besides, we’re not one of those couples! We can handle one night apart!

And she had been right, for the most part. Of course she missed Lan Zhan, but a night spent apart, having fun with her little family, all of them basking in the shared excitement of her impending nuptials. What she hadn’t anticipated was trying to sleep without Lan Zhan beside her, not when she’s this nervous, hadn’t thought about how deeply she would miss Lan Zhan’s warm weight behind her, her steadying arm firm around her waist, holding Wei Ying together like she did every night. She feels the absence with every shift of her hips that press backwards into nothing, every time she throws an arm out to rest on an empty pillow and the fact that there are no warm, soft, calves to ruthlessly shove her cold toes against.

By the time she picks up her phone again, everyone in the room is peacefully asleep and the clock on her bedside table blinks 2:36, proud and red and rude, if you ask Wei Ying. She gives up on sleep and starts mentally calculating exactly how much concealer she’ll need to cover the bags under her eyes. After all, she wants to look her absolute best for Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan who is so steady and warm and beautiful, Lan Zhan who could open her mouth wide and eat Wei Ying’s entire heart in one bite but doesn’t, instead offering her own heart up on a silver platter for Wei Ying.

Wei Ying opens their messages on her phone, reads through the last few, laughs at the pictures she’d sent earlier in the night of Nie Mingjue, eyes half lidded with alcohol, laying messy kisses to the side of Xichen-ge’s face, who seemed to be accepting them with grace and only slightly tinged red ears. She taps her fingers on the screen, starting a message, lan zhan i can’t slee-

She doubles back, erasing it, deciding she doesn’t need to be whiny the night before their wedding, when Lan Zhan is surely asleep anyways. Again she starts, good early morning, lan zhan! i can’t wait to see you in your-

Too much, that is utterly too much. i love you, she types, hesitates with her thumb over the send button. What if the sound of her phone wakes Lan Zhan up? What if then Lan Zhan can’t fall back asleep? What if Lan Zhan tosses and turns all night and ends up with a headache, overtired on their wedding day of all times? What if this texts absolutely ruins everythi-

Her phone sounds, the little swooping noise it makes when she receives a new message on the thread she’s already looking at. She looks down and finds a link from Lan Zhan to a video of baby bunnies playing together with a message that says, When we return from our honeymoon, I think it is time we get another bunny. Possibly two.

And well. Her decision is made for her really. If Lan Zhan is awake, laying in her own bed in a room on the other side of the hotel, fighting off insomniatic boredom with bunny videos, there’s no way Wei Ying can stay here and allow them both to suffer.

She finds herself glad that Wen Ning is on the floor, though it looks a tad uncomfortable, because she’s able to slip out of bed with ease, bare feet silent on the carpeted floor. The only thing she grabs is her phone, not even bothering to try to find her shoes in the colossal mess that is her dark bridal room, littered with take out and bottles and stripped off clothing. Her nose crinkles, amused, when she thinks of the look of reprove she’ll surely get from Lan Zhan when she realizes Wei Ying walked around barefoot.

She manages to zigzag her way to the door without stepping on anything or making any noise, a feat she will congratulate herself on later. The door opens slowly, making the barest hint of noise as yellow hotel-hallway light floods the entrance to the room. Wei Ying pumps her fist, gloating at being able to sneak out without a single one of her party-poopers (read: caring family) waking up to ruin it for her and make her climb back into her own bed.

That is, until she catches Nie Huaisang’s eyes, watching her from where he lays next to Jiang Cheng. The most dangerous opponent, really, because with one shove of his arm he’d have Jiang Cheng up and yelling, alarming the whole room before she’d even make it to the elevator. She’s not sure she knows the layout of the hotel well enough to make it safely inside Lan Zhan’s room before one of them caught her.

Silent, slow, she moves one finger up to place over her lips, keeping eye contact with Nie Huaisang the whole time. She pleads with him from across the room, imploring him to be cool. He blinks, once, twice, slow like a cat in the sun, and then closes his eyes a third time for good and raises one, slow, thumbs up to her.

Her sigh of relief is the last noise in the room before she shuts the door and power walks to the elevator at the end of the hallway. She is going to buy him the biggest fruit basket. She dances by herself once inside the elevator, suddenly feeling cold and exposed in her red silk sleep tank and shorts, goosebumps prickling her arms and thighs. If only Lan Zhan’s room wasn’t so stupidly far away.

Of course her room has to be far away! Jiang Cheng had yelled when Wei Ying whined about it, the second you start drinking all you want to do is sit in her lap! You’re lucky I’m letting her party stay in the same hotel as yours!

And well, he hadn’t been wrong, per say, she thinks to herself as she tiptoes off the elevator and down the maze-like hall to get to Lan Zhan’s room. She still didn’t appreciate the distance though. She quietly tap taps on the door with one hand, pressing send on a text with the other that reads, lan zhan let me in lan ZHAN!!!

The door opens before her hand has even fallen back to her side. And there is her Lan Zhan, in soft cloud print pajamas pants and a white t-shirt, hair drawn up into a neat bun, eyes tired but awake.

“Wei Ying,” she says, the smile in her voice all Wei Ying needs to know about her welcome. She slides closer, wrapping her arms around Lan Zhan’s neck, grinning when she feels the others arms sneak around her waist.

“Mmm, Lan Zhan,” she hums against Lan Zhan’s neck, moving up to her tiptoes so she can nuzzle her nose against the corner of Lan Zhan’s jaw, “I’m tired, let’s go to bed.”

“I thought I was not supposed to see the bride the night before the wedding,” Lan Zhan replies, but she’s already inching backwards into the room, dragging Wei Ying along with her.

“Who ever said that?” Wei Ying asks, knowing full well she was the one who said that, a smile on her face when she lets Lan Zhan drop her into bed.

“Besides,” she says, once Lan Zhan is settled beside her, reaching one hand up to pet the side of Lan Zhan’s face, thumb rubbing gentle circles across the expanse of Lan Zhan’s cheekbone, “Does it count if there’s two brides? I don’t think so, we cancel each other out, see? If anything we have to do the opposite, you know, we have to see each other extra hard tonight.”

“Hmm,” Lan Zhan hums, her lips pulling up ever so slightly on one side as she leans in to rest her forehead against Wei Ying’s, legs tangling together, one hand sliding underneath Wei Ying’s shirt to spread warm and wide and firm in the valley between her shoulder blades, “Is that so?”

“Yes, tonight we have to,” Wei Ying nods, finally allowing her eyes to close as she presses further into Lan Zhan’s embrace, sleep finally weighing on her shoulders. She lets her head drop down, lips brushing against Lan Zhan’s collarbone, breathing her words right into Lan Zhan’s chest, “And every night too. I’ll tack that on for free, Lan Zhan, every night.”

“Yes, Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan sighs against her hair and melts under Wei Ying’s nimble fingers, relaxed at once with the promise of forever, “Every night.”

“I love you,” Wei Ying whispers, one final thing, around a yawn and finally, finally settles for the night. She almost misses Lan Zhan’s whispered reply, I love you too.

But she doesn’t. She never wants to miss a single thing Lan Zhan has to say.

Coda:

For all of fifteen seconds, the world is warm and bright and everything good when Wei Ying wakes up. Toned legs tangle with her own and a soft hand pets her hair away from her face, gentle and comforting again and again. She herself is pressed messily against Lan Zhan’s chest, quite possibly, embarrassingly, drooling ever so slightly. She does not have time to register this, however, before the banging starts.

“Wei Wuxian, I know you’re in there!” comes a belt from the other side of the door, that has her shooting up in an awkward half sitting position, splayed on one-fourth on the bed and three-fourths in Lan Zhan’s lap. Lan Zhan’s hands act as a steadying force, one on her hip, the other on her back, as she blinks deliriously around the room.

Nie Mingjue seems to be in a similar position, probably blinking off a hangover and propelling up from his sleeping position, glaring around the room like he might find the source of their disturbance somewhere inside. Jin Zixuan, on the other hand, groans loud and long, pressing his pillow over his ears.

“I see you are up,” Lan Xichen smiles from the little table where he sits, drinking his cup of tea peacefully, unperturbed by the pounding on their door, “I hope you rested well.”

“I did, thank you Xichen-ge,” Wei Ying tries to laugh around the blush high in her cheeks, only now really registering the fact that Lan Zhan was also sharing a room and not, in fact, alone just waiting for Wei Ying to traipse her way in.

But when she looks down at the woman laying beside her, she sees none of her own embarrassment reflected there, only a fond smile and a soft hand reaching out to tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ears. Huh, she thinks, revising her earlier thoughts, maybe not alone but definitely waiting for me.

“Wei Wuxian!” comes again from outside the door, though this time it just has her laughing, pushing into Lan Zhan’s hands like a cat.

“When did you get here?” Nie Mingjue asks, rubbing at his eyes. But he stands and stumbles his way over to Xichen and the tea and doesn’t seem particularly hard pressed for an answer, so Wei Ying ignores it.

“Hi, we’re getting married today,” she says instead, meeting Lan Zhan’s smile with her own.

“Mn,” Lan Zhan hums while the banging on the door stops. Finally, Wei Ying sighs, leaning down to press her lips against Lan Zhan’s, chaste because they are still in front of Lan Zhan’s brother and her brother in law. She’s still there when the door pops open, revealing a quietly furious Wen Qing.

“Wei Wuxian,” she seethes, taking calculated steps closer, “You were supposed to stay in your bed.”

“I did!” Wei Ying says, smiling wide to prove her innocence, “Lan Zhan is my bed!”

“I am going to-” Jiang Cheng barges through, leaving no one to hold the door open; it swings heavily back straight towards Jiang Yanli.

Before Wei Ying can even shout a disgruntled hey! Jin Zixuan, who was already on his way to the door, catches it with his hand and leads Jiang Yanli inside with a gentle hand and a soft smile that makes Wei Ying want to puke.

But Yanli-jie smiles back, big and happy and unashamed, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek, “Hello, husband.”

“Good morning, A-Li,” he says back, wistful and dopey as he leads her inside with a soft hand on the small of her back. Right in that moment, Wei Ying decides maybe she doesn’t hate him. For now.

“Sorry, Shijie,” Jiang Cheng responds, automatic when he looks back but Jiang Yanli waves him off with a forgiving smile.

“I know it wasn’t on purpose A-Cheng.”

The commotion leaves Wei Ying relaxed in a way she should have known better than to be, because all too soon she is being hoisted away from her warm spot on the bed and dragged out of the room.

“You promised, Wei Wuxian!” Wen Qing snaps, but Wei Ying can already hear the forgiveness in her voice, the amusement. Wei Ying lets herself be dragged along, barefoot again, back to her own room. And then because honestly she’s a little on the edge of too-excited and too-in love she shouts over her shoulder:

“I’ll see you at the end of the aisle, Wife!” and maintains vision of the room just long enough for Lan Zhan, who’d pushed herself into an upright position, turn red and drop back down into the bed with a gasp, like all of the air had been knocked out of her.

Wei Ying’s cackles are only rivaled by the quiet, but pleased chuckles from Lan Xichen.

“Do you have to be such an annoyingly sweet couple every single day?” Wen Qing huffs, letting go of her (fake, Wei Ying is pretty sure) anger entirely, sliding her arm up so they can lock elbows, walking arm and arm back to Wei Ying’s room.

Wei Ying thinks of Lan Zhan, warm around her and ever inviting, even if it was 2AM, even if Wei Ying looked like a ragamuffin, even if, even if, and smiles wide, cheesy, deliriously with all the right decisions she’s made in this life and says, “Yes.”

#wangxian #wei wuxian #wei ying #lan wangji #lan zhan #lan xichen #wen qing #wen ning #jiang cheng #jiang yanli #nie mingjue #nie huaisang #jin zixuan #my writing #my fics #jiangchengrights

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