#and he's lonely! and yearning! he reaches out and tries to catch what's out there regardless of believing its out there or not | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

spdrvyn · 11 months

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parched — MIGUEL O'HARA

(( I FINALLY WATCHED ATSV AAAGHHHH IT WAS SO GOOD !!! not gonna say anything because if i ramble it will 100% go into spoiler territory but it was probably the best movie i've ever seen no exaggeration. anyway, here's a small miguel one shot? drabble? spoiler-free :3 ))

READ PART 2 HERE.

You and Miguel led nearly entirely different lives.

He was constantly out and about. Putting his body, his mind through strenuous lengths for the sake of the people. For the sake of everyone. He sacrifices a piece of himself, bit by bit. Everyday. Just for everybody else's peace.

Your job almost felt a little silly next to his. After all, you were quite sure that being Spider-Man didn't offer a week of paid vacation. Which you were extremely grateful to have, by the way.

In all honesty, you felt the smallest piece of pity for him. You were able to catch up on your hobbies, enjoy shows that were put on your list for so long, and get more than 5 hours of sleep.

You knew that Miguel was barely getting a shred of that. How did you know? Even in two in the morning, while you were resting on the couch and catching up on yet another show, you hadn't heard him come in through the window that you normally keep open for him.

Worry seeps it's way into your brain as you try to focus on the pixels in front of you. Of course, you were scared for him. Everyday that he went out, the unexpected could happen and well... You didn't want to think too deep into it.

At least, your mind was distracted when you were working but now you were relaxing, the thoughts that you tried bury deep down under to the crevices of your mind were all coming back again.

It only concerned you more when throughout the week so far, you'd seen him less and less. On occasion, in the middle of the night, the click of a lock would alert you awake but before you could sit up and investigate, strong arms locked around your waist and a head pressed into your shoulder.

You sighed, reaching for the remote and pausing your show.

The worries, the yearning. It all gave you a swirling, growing feeling in your gut that you hadn't really familiarized yourself with. You weren't sure if you liked it, you weren't sure if you hated it. Though the way that it pierced into you like a newly sharpened spear just confused you even further.

Trying to focus on another feeling growing inside of you. Hunger and satisfying it, you hoped it would get all of this off of your mind as you lazily walk into the kitchen.

A reoccurring theme whenever you wanted a snack was once you actually made your way to the pantry, decisions were a foreign concept and your cravings were like trying to read binary code.

Instant ramen? Cookies? Chips? Ice cream?

Felt even worse this time when you hadn't particularly been exercising your brain recently, a mental note to yourself to be just a little bit on edge when you get a break like this.

You opt on giving up entirely, you slam the cabinet door, and turn around to get back to the couch until—

There's a weight against your back and waist, keeping you against the counter.

As you look down, you see the familiar shades of red and blue. Sighing, you look to a little over your shoulder and take a little peek. To see closed eyes signalled by Miguel's mask. The marks trembling shut, you feel his grip on you get tighter.

In a volume as close to a whisper, you break the silence, "Miguel? You okay?" Like you expected, he takes off his mask. Eyes screwed shut, brows furrowing as you can see the stress lines and deep circles under them.

He sighs but not out of being content, thumb tracing small shapes into your stomach. "Been so lonely, mi cielo."

Your heart clenches as that. That was right, you understood what kind of lover that he could be. Needy, clingy, these qualities festering even more each moment he spends away from you. You noticed how much he was holding back right now.

He normally liked to fix himself up before getting all comfortable and relaxed with you. Showering, brushing his curls, general self-care but the moment he came inside his first instinct was to go to you.

Those thoughts from a while ago that were nearly going to absorb you came back. To think the cold that Miguel had to endure out there from how tightly he wanted to absorb your warmth.

"I missed you so much. Me sentí tan solo, don't wanna let go."

You were going to respond but your mind practically short-circuited when he started pressing soft kisses along your neck and shoulder. You let him indulge himself, just a little while.

Of course, his job terrified you sometimes but seeing him like this. Seeing him let his guard down, talking about how much he missed you, calling you his darling.

Perhaps Spider-Men had their own charm but Miguel's just got you wrapped around his finger like nobody else could.

For a brief moment, he nibbles on the flesh at the back of your neck. Pressing one last kiss, "Will get fixed up, then voy a demostrarte cuánto te extrañé después de todo este tiempo."

Shamefully, you didn't pick up learning Spanish yet from how much Miguel speaks it to you. Yet through context clues and bashfully asking him what the things he said meant sometimes.

You knew exactly what was going to come next.

#lmao get cliffhanged loser #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #spiderman 2099 #spiderman: across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse #spiderverse #fluff #romance #end sounds like sexy times are gonna happen but #i promise you this is a gona be a fucking fluff fest #dw theres gonna be a part 2

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rinbowaman · 12 days

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Hi Reina!!! <33 what would be Heethan reaction if they were to a mariage and when the it's time to throw the bouquet, reader caught the bouquet? (as you may know that if we catch the bouquet we are supposed to get married) I love you so much you're my favorite writer <33

🦝 anon

oooohohoho this is juicy! I’m gonna answer in great detail!

First off, he’d make sure you both attend a friends wedding with you dressed to the nines, despite you not being the bride. You’re the most beautiful girl in his eyes and even though he has you all to himself, he likes to show you off. ;)

He’d watch over you like a hawk the entire time. If anyone dares to approach and ask you to dance, they’re going to meet an unpleasant end after this wedding.

his eyes are going to watch you with an expression of desire and yearning. You look too good, and he’s going to stand off to the side leaned up against a wall in his tux, head tilted and smirking. he won’t ever be more than 3-5 feet away from you.

you stand among a group of friends, not really intending on participating in the traditional event. You stood off the side and watched all the other girls reaching up and yelling out to the bride, desperate to get their hands on that bouquet.

the bride turns around, her back facing the eager crowd and she closes her eyes and swings her hands over her head. Her lack of coordination and aim caused the bouquet to lapse over to the side and fly directly in your direction. you gently catch the bouquet with wide eyes and a surprise expression. 😲

The girls all pout and frown as they see you holding the large bouquet. It’s heavier than how it looks. You look up at the crowd with your lips stuttering, trying to find the words to calm them.

suddenly, you feel yourself being thrashed away. Pulled at the waist, you’ gasp out your breath and become shook by being taken away from the audience.

Dragged away, everyone stood with wide eyes, just as shocked as you when you slowly disappear. You only see his backside as he continues to pull you through the rows of parked cars, until he gets to his own.

his movements and level of force nearly had you convinced that he was angry. But for what? It wasn’t as if you intentionally tried to catch the bouquet.

he throws you into the seat, before getting in and starting the car. His eyes are stern, he displays no smile and doesn’t say a thing. To make matters even more frightening, he steered the wheel with one hand while he maintained a strong hold on your neck, slightly having you leaned in, facing him, over the center console. “Babe? Heeseung? Please….why won’t you talk to me?”

he keeps his eyes on the road. His silence wasn’t the only thing that was constant, he didn’t bother to look at you the entire drive, only staring dead at the road. Your body halfway twisted as he kept you in close proximity over the center, your rear bed barely touching the seat, you start to feel sore and uncomfortable. Why won’t he say anything? Was he angry that you caught the bouquet without his permission?

the drive finally ends and he quickly unbuckles his seatbelt and gets out, dragging you along with him. You’re in an unfamiliar setting and grow more fearful as he takes you inside a building.

A desk at the front is before you. There stands a lone woman who greets the both of you as you entered. “Hello, what can I help you with?”

“you have a a magistrate available?” His tone is deep and stern, just like his eyes.

“Why yes sir, are you seeking our walk in services?”

He quickly answers, ensuring that you stand behind either his hand gripped around your wrist. He fills out some documents, while the woman comes back to the lobby with the magistrate. “Hello there! What a lovely couple. My assistant has told me you are looking to seal your vows and need your marriage officiated, and that you’re in a hurry?”

Heeseung nods without looking at the minister, who willfully agrees to officiate your ‘wedding’ through a high level of kindness and understanding. “I’ll be happy to do that for you both. Do you have anyone to stand and bear witness to the ceremony?” Heeseung nods once more and just then, the door opens. Six young men enter, one of which was Jake.

“H-Heeseung….” You stutter as he drags you behind him, following the minister. “Heeseung!” You whisper desperately after experiencing his ignorant behavior once more.

He stands you across from him. The pastel beige colored dress served as your bridal gown as he joined his hands with yours, and the minister begins his introduction. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today…” Heeseung’s hands tighten around yours, and you stand confused and scared. Is he seriously going to make you marry him right now? In this way? What about his agreeing in letting you finish college? Why? All because you bc sight a bouquet?

The minister asks Heeseung to repeat the vows. When it came to your turn, he strategically tugs on your palms, causing you to hiccup an “I do.” Never allowing the minister to suspect the use of force that was present. “I hereby announce you as husband, and wife. You may now kiss the bride.”

The six young men all cheer and chant Heeseung’s name as he pulls you by the neck into a passionate kiss. Just as quickly as he brought you in, he took you right back out upon finalizing the rightful procedures and signing the marriage license. All of his friends continue their chant as they trailed behind and followed closely behind you both.

He pulls you back inside the car, holds you by the neck for the final time and pulls you into a kiss. Pausing, he whispers against your pout with a grin…

“Catching bouquets, are we?” He slaps another kiss on your lips. “I thought you wanted to wait until you finished college. Guess you couldn’t wait.”

You tried to object and set the record straight but he wouldn’t let you. He grips your mouth into a full make out. “You know what comes next after marriage baby?”

You shake your head. “Heeseung no…”

“Oh yes.”

His eyes couldn’t hide it. You knew better that this man, while carrying the potential of being a great father, merely only wanted to put his deed inside you to trap you for all eternity, ensuring that you could never leave even if you had wanted to. The thought of marrying him and having his baby was a dream that you wanted to experience the traditional way and I due time, but not like this. “Heeseung no…not like this.”

“It’s so damn cute that you—“ kissing you once again, he pauses as he tucks your hair behind an ear. “think you have a choice.”

Your eyes sting with the tears coming through. “You wouldn’t want to break the traditions of marriage, would you? After all…”

He leans closer. “You’re the one that caught the bouquet. And I’m a man that doesn’t like tie waste time, especially with my pretty wife.” Grabbing on to your thigh, he pulls you into the backseat and crawls onto of you. Grinning darkly, he looks down at you with a taunting smile that took pity on your helpless appearance. “Now, lay there and watch me fuck a baby inside you. I’ll make you into a mommy, make you quit school, and be my perfect stay at home wife and mother to our children. I’ll take care of everything else. You will stay safe and forever be near me. I’m going to watch my baby grow inside you. You’re going to be my perfect soulmate.”

He goes on and on. You see the insanity of his obsession and love for you, and it scares you to death. “I want you to always remember this y/n…you did this to me. You have this effect and made me crave you. This is all your fault and I’m going to remind you every single day.”

Your breath hitches. “Heeseung…it’s not my fault that I was born the way that I am. I never asked for this…for you to choose me. Please take it easy.”

He smirks again. “Oh pretty…maybe you shouldn’t have been born then? Maybe in the next life, you should remember that. But if you still come into the world, don’t worry, I’ll come find you and make you mine again.”

#heeseung x reader #heeseung scenarios #enha x reader #heeseung smut #heeseung hard hours #heeseung fanfic #heeseung hard thoughts #enhypen smut #enhypen hard hours #enha heeseung #yandere heeseung imagines #heeseung yandere

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celtic-crossbow · 4 months

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Whumpuary Day 11-12

Prompt: Exhaustion

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore

“Daryl, we need to stop. Everyone needs a break.” You wrapped your arms around yourself, pulling your jacket tighter to your body. It was cold. Late autumn, early winter. You were searching for a group that had robbed and killed some of the Commonwealth’s best scouts. Ezekiel and Mercer had assigned you and Daryl to head up the mission. Daryl was still on edge about declining Maggie’s request to venture out. It wasn’t really his decision. You played a huge part in his declination.

“Take a break then. M’goin’ on ahead.” He was standing on a downed tree, looking through Carol’s binoculars. You knew he was yearning for the old crew. They all had their jobs now and you couldn’t tear them away from that. So, Mercer had assigned troopers to assist. Daryl looked down at you, handing you the binoculars so he could jump down.

“Come on, Daryl. Let’s stop for the evening. I know you haven’t been sleeping. I’m alone when I go to sleep. I’m alone when I wake up.”

His jaw twisted, a sure sign he was gnawing on the inside of his lip. “Maybe I jus’ get ta bed late n’ get up early.”

You put your hands on your hips. “Daryl Dixon, are you seriously trying to lie to me right now?” He gave a quiet nah while watching his boot kick at some loose rocks. “We barely get four or five hours and with all the walking and tracking, we’re exhausted.” You had already taken in his haggard appearance and he knew you had. “And you’re not sleeping at all? It’s not just unhealthy, it’s dangerous.”

Daryl sighed, his thumb tracing over his bottom lip. He looked as if he might concede, but with a glance over your shoulder, he dropped his hand and squared his shoulders. “M’goin’. Catch up.”

You watched him walk away until he was out of sight. Turning, you saw a trio of troopers watching with smirks and hushed laughter. Had they been amused by you being able to rein in Daryl’s stubbornness? That would explain his hasty departure.

“You think this is funny?” You snapped, their expressions falling straight. They stood at attention with a series of no ma’am. “Ugh, set up the tents. I’m going after our fearless leader.” You stayed for a moment to make sure they followed orders. You might have placed yourself under your boyfriend’s leadership, but in his absence, they were to heed your command.

You checked your weapons before heading out alone. Daryl couldn’t have gone far but he tended to have the ability to surprise you. You really needed to talk to him about everything. It was you who begged him to stay when Maggie asked him to go. It was you that told him you’d follow him if he tried to leave without you. You didn’t leave him a choice and maybe that wasn’t fair. You had spent so much time separating from him in fights that could have seen one or both of you dead. Now, with a chance of relative peace and safety, you couldn’t let him just willingly walk away from that.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. A few steps further and you could hear the crunch of leaves and snapping twigs. You knew it wasn’t Daryl. The man could move across the forest floor without a sound. When the first growl filtered through the air, you inwardly groaned. Just what you needed. Your handgun was at your hip but you pulled your knife. You were alone and didn’t need to track any unnecessary attention.

Lowering into a crouch, you tread the way Daryl had shown you, finding the lone walker with ease. Your eyes narrowed. It was moving with purpose, arms reaching as though something was in its sights. And it wasn’t you.

Then you could hear him. The grunts and strained noises of Daryl engaged in a fight. Shit. You sprang to your feet, stabbing the walker in the eye as you passed. A nearby incline overlooked a small ravine, where Daryl was absolutely outnumbered by the dead. His crossbow had been discarded or dropped while he used his knives to fight off the dozen or so hands reaching for him.

But he was flagging.

Goddamnit, Daryl!

You tore down the hill, kicking the feet out from under the walkers you passed so you could quickly and efficiently dispatch them. When you reached the bottom, everything seemed to go into slow motion.

The walker had managed to get too close, grabbing Daryl’s arm as he reared back to stab the one in front of him. He used his other hand to take that one down but his arm was inches from the snapping jaws of the other. Just as it’s rotten teeth made contact with his exposed skin, a shot rang out.

The walker dropped.

You fired shot after shot until only three remained. Running past the archer, you took down two and turned to find him pulling his knife from the temple of the last one.

Panting, you dropped your weapons and ran to him. He didn’t fight when you grabbed his arm. “Please please please. Are you bit? Are you hurt?” There was a light red irritation but no broken skin. You thought your legs would give out then and there, the relief surged so strongly. He still said nothing when you pulled him against you, holding him so tightly that it was a wonder he could breathe. “Don’t ever do that again! God, please, don’t!” You cried against his shoulder. His hands were on your back, rubbing gentle circles.

“M’sorry.” Daryl finally whispered into your hair. You sniffled against him for a moment more, relishing in the feel of his warmth, the rise and fall of his chest. When you pulled back, he wasn’t looking at you.

“It’s okay. I’m just,” your voice cracked hard enough to force a pause, “I’m just glad you’re okay.” He nodded wordlessly. “Let’s go. The shots will attract others.” You grabbed your weapons and his crossbow, handing it to him.

The walk back was silent, your hand in his. You couldn’t give up the contact, not while your heart still raced with how close you’d come to losing him or even a part of him. When the camp came into view, you stopped, glad that he also stilled beside you.

“They’re gonna be pissed but we can’t stay here.” You sighed giving his hand a squeeze. He nodded again. When you opened your mouth again, your name was called from somewhere behind you.

“We heard the shots.” Two troopers, Jones and Pierce, had their weapons out, lowering them as they approached.

“We’re good.” You answered with a tight smile. “Ran into some walkers. Gonna have to move the camp.” Much to your relief, they simply nodded and moved on, relaying the order.

“Yer right.”

You looked away from the tents and back to your archer. His head was down, his shoulders slumped. “What?” When he lifted his head, your expression softened. He looked beat down, resigned.

“M’exhausted. Was stupid, wha’ I did.” His thumb was drawing nervous circles on the the back of your hand. “‘Bout got me killed.” He dropped his head again, shame eating away at him. You knew that look well.

“Hey.” You hooked a finger beneath his chin and guided him to look at you again. “I won’t say it’s okay because it isn’t. It was stupid.” The flinch would have been imperceptible to anyone else but you knew Daryl, knew what to look for when he was upset. “But you’re here. You’re safe and whole. That’s what matters.” Another silent nod. “I know there are things we need to talk about and we will. You need to rest first.”

A little of the tension bled from his face. “Okay.”

“Let’s go help gather everything. Get moved and get you to bed.” When you started walking, he fell in step automatically.

“Migh’ need a bedtime story.” He was still looking down but he wore the smallest of smiles. You didn’t let go of his hand when you nudged him in the ribs with your elbow.

“Don’t worry. I’ll make certain you’re tired enough to sleep.”

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#whumpuary2024 #whumpuaryno6 #exhaustion #violence #gore #the walking dead #fic #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon angst

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razorcrestgrogusnest · 4 months

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Hard as Beskar

By BadWolfLoki

Din is on Yavin Prime to collect a bounty: You. You're cocky and stubborn, which made you easy to catch.

Din Djarin X Female Reader

Tags: vaginal sex, anal sex, bondage/restraints, gags, knifeplay, bloodplay

The Mandalorian drags you onto his ship kicking and screaming. He’s a lot stronger than he looks, you’ll give him that, but you’re cunning. You’ve used your mouth to get yourself out of sticky situations before, why should now be any different?

The Mandalorian tosses you rather unceremoniously into the small hold. You take a look around the rust bucket and scoff. “You’d think with that shiny beskar, you’d be able to afford a better ship.” Din ignores you, but he’s proud of the Razor Crest. “Stop talking, quarry.” He chains you to a support beam in the hold and makes sure the cuffs are extra tight. You growl a low rumble as the cold metal bites your skin.

“Or what? You’re gonna toss me around some more?” You smirk and rake your eyes down his sturdy frame, then back up. Din ignores you once more, stashing his weapons away. “My carbon-freezer may be broken, but if you keep running your mouth, I’ll bring you to Kriebo cold anyway.” Din’s tone was flat and even, but you detected the tiniest edge to it. He would get a bounty for you either way, but significantly more if you were unharmed. Well… alive, anyway.

“So what’s your deal, Mandalorian? I’ve heard of you. You don’t take off your armour?” You shrug “Must get lonely… no one to touch you…” You bite your lip. “It must be... hard.” Din tries his best to ignore you. “Stop talking.” You smirk coyly. You can’t see his face, but you like to imagine he’s sweating under that helmet. “Would you like that? Someone to stroke your cock every night? I bet you crave… yearn for someone’s touch. You wake up every morning and jack off… probably do it quickly to get it to go down, but it doesn’t mean anything anymore. You spurt a weak, pathetic cumload, and it all feels so… pointless?”

Din growls and, in a flash, has his thick gloved fingers around your throat. He growls a deep rumble in the back of his throat. “I said shut up, rude girl.” A lewd moan escapes your lips before you can contain it, your pussy throbbing. “Make. Me.” You stare down his visor. He grunts and moves to the other side of the hold, and starts dragging a large, metal crate towards you. You look at him curiously as he works. Silently, the attaches a strap around the crate, then moves to you. Without a word, he temporarily uncuffs you long enough to spin you around, then cuffs you around the beam once more. “Is this how you like to play, Mandalorian? Funny, I hoped you’d be a little more interesting than this, but oh well. Maybe you are just a stiff-lipped, limp… boring-“ Din growls loudly and hoists you onto the crate, spreading your legs wide, and straps your ankles into the strap.

“What-“ Din shoves you forward so that your breasts touch the crate, and forcefully rips your pants off. He makes quick work of ripping off the final shreds of what was once clothing. You whine in arousal, your pussy absolutely dripping onto the top of the crate. “I said shut up!” Din quickly pulls out his rather thick, throbbing cock. The head is nearly purple from arousal, and already leaking pre-cum. He rips off his gloves and reaches around to your mouth, shoving three fingers into your mouth. “You want to run your mouth? I’ll teach you when to keep your tongue to yourself.” He pulls his fingers back, coats the tip of his cock with your spit, and runs his fingers up and down your pussy. You whine unceremoniously, no longer caring about keeping face. All you can think about is how badly you want this masked man to wreck you.

Din rather aggressively rams his cock deep into your pussy, and groans loudly at how tight your pussy is around his cock. Din grabs the back of your neck and holds you down while he sets a brutal pace, stretching you open with every thrust. You grip onto the beam for dear life as Din rails you to within an inch of your life. “Oh… mmmmm… kriff…” Din wraps his gloved hand around your mouth forcefully, while the other still holds your neck down. “I said stop talking! I don’t think you’re learning your lesson.” Din pulls out of you with a grunt. You whimper at the suddenly empty feeling, your raw pussy pulsing for more.

Din pulls out a small knife that was sheathed on his belt. You try to keep a cool face, but your heart rate is increasing rapidly. Is he really going to bring you in cold? He clicks the vibro-knife on and it starts thrumming loudly and rapidly. He cocks his head and growls deeply. “Are you going to shut up now, rude girl?” You swallow and nod sheepishly. He hums satisfactorily and brings the thrumming vibro-knife towards your thigh. He very delicately drags it along your upper inner thigh. You whimper as the blade slices into your skin, just enough to draw blood. You should be scared. You should be terrified of this Mandalorian. But… the only feeling your body is capable of is intense, tantric desire for his cock. He slowly scoops up the dribble of blood with his fingers and bring them to your lips. He teases your lips, tugging at your bottom lip. “Suck.” You don’t question your orders. You eagerly dive onto his fingers, sucking on his fingers and licking up the blood with a fervour Din hasn’t seen in a long time. He hums contentedly as your tongue swirls around his fingers.

Din rips off his other glove and rolls it up into a tight ball. “Open.” You eagerly open your mouth and he stuffs the tight roll of leather in your mouth. You lean forward more, resting your head on the top of the crate, knowing you’re about to get it. Din carefully slides the vibro-knife in the small space between your pussy and the lid of the crate, so that it is flush with your clit, pointing forward towards your stomach, and he flicks it on. “Move even a fraction of an inch and the blade will cut you. Do you understand?” You whimper loudly as the vibro-knife vibrates aggressively against your clit, and nod. You hear a hiss and the clunk of metal as he sets his helmet down on the crate beside you. You pinch your eyes shut. You enjoy getting him riled up, but you’d never actually insult his religion by looking at him.

Din spits a large dollop of spit onto his cock and rubs the head of his cock up and down your pussy. “Your pussy is so gorgeous, rude girl.” You whimper as the vibro-knife inches you closer and closer to the edge. “But…” Your ears perk up when he says this. Din groans loudly as he slides his cock slowly but steadily into your asshole. You moan lewdly as he stretches you open once more. His cock is so thick, but it feels so amazing as it hits deep inside of you. “That’ll teach you to open your mouth without permission.” Din’s thick cock provides the tightest friction against your hole, as the vibro-knife thrums away at your clit. “Don’t cum yet.” Din’s voice is becoming shaky and weak as he rapidly careens towards an orgasm. He groans louder as he fucks your hole with a hard, brutal pace of a man desperate for ecstasy.

His large, strong hand grips your neck and he sinks his teeth into your shoulder as he shoots huge ropes of hot, creamy cum deep inside you until it gushes out around his cock. “Cum for me, rude girl.” It doesn’t take long for the vibro-knife to finish the job that his cock started, and you start gushing all over the vibrating handle of the knife with a loud cry. Din rests his head against your shoulder for a long time, catching his breath, before he pulls out with a groan, and pulls his glove out of your mouth. “Dank Farrik, that was incredible.” You barely manage to get out in between heavy pants.

Din tucks himself away and you hear the mechanical hiss of his helmet sealing on his head once more. He uses his glove to wipe the mess of cum dripping out of your hole, and he hums contentedly. He steps back. “Are you going to untie me?” You say breathlessly. “No.” You lick your lips and try to get your bearings. “Will you at least turn off the vibro-knife?” Din walks away towards the ladder to the cockpit, before turning and looking at you over his shoulder. “No. I’m not done with you, rude girl.”

Find my AO3 below

#din djarin #the mandalorian #star wars #fanfic #pedro pascal

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twynte · 1 year

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Canon-Insert Joongdok Fics from YJH’s pov

as requested by @harapecowee <33

> The Loss of What I Never Asked for and Never Understood by aryelee [Gen, 1.2k]

In the wake of the events in Dark Castle, Yoo Joonghyuk is haunted by a single line: 「 Incarnation Kim Dokja will be killed by the person he loves most. 」

> In the Space of Eternity, A Lone Star by plunderheavenblind [T, 2.6k]

Looking at the sky high above him, Yoo Joonghyuk reached his hand out and yearned.

> Down by absurdherb [Gen, 1.2k]

1863rd regression Yoo Jonghyuk tries to find out who Kim Dokja is and finds a lot more than he bargained for.

> Twilight Dreams by gotcocomilk [T, 4.6k]

It was after the 500th death that Yoo Jonghyuk realized he didn’t mind dying anymore. In the haze of a world that forgot him, and friends and lovers that faded away every time he regressed, there was one constant. There was one companion who always remembered him, no matter how many times he died.

> ”I am Once Again Asking You to Use Your Fucking Words,” Said Everyone. “Never,” Said Yoo Joonghyuk. by icebreeze [T, 6.6k]

Yoo Jonghyuk has a problem, and that problem is that he's in love with a rat of a man. Uriel helps.

> Star-Crossed by vaphelion [Gen, 7.2k]

On Kim Dokja’s first deathbed, he leaves Yoo Joonghyuk with a curse.

On his second, he tells him why.

> Anticipating Something, Somewhere by phio3 [T, ongoing]

After his disastrous second regression, Yoo Joonghyuk wakes up in the third round, but something is amiss. He catches the eye of a man in the next subway cabin, and that moment derails all of his plans for this regression.

Enjoy!! I hope this is at least somewhat close to what you wanted… this was.. difficult.

#i tried to find a canon first meeting fic but couldn't ;-;#it's a lot of post-canon actually sorry #this is actually probably not what you were looking for...#joongdok #fic rec #orv #fan fiction #twy rec #orv rec

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reckless-glitch · 7 months

Text

No guarantees for more but here's part one of what I'm calling

Bodies Woven in Sin

(dark urge/Astarion)

He wakes up and for a beautiful, brief moment his mind is his own, the darkness lurking in the corners of his memories always took a beat to catch up to him. The only thing is the soft contented purr that had been an ever present song in the background of his thoughts since he woke up in that pod covered in his own blood. He keeps his eyes closed tight trying to keep the sweet images of his dream at the forefront for just a little longer. The edges of the dream are already fading fast but the feeling of home lingers somehow on his skin, the soft whisper touch of a lover whose face remains a mystery. If he focuses, he can run his own fingers down the lines of his arm the way the man living in his dreams does. He tries not to dwell on the feeling that this repeating dream feels more like a memory.

Then, all at once it hits him.

The cold clawing need crawls up his throat demanding to be heard. The dream was lost, replaced with a hunger that feels like broken glass on his tongue. His mind connects automatically with the other two tadpoles in camp. Their gentle sleep breathing a melody part of him desperately wants to end. In his mind the vision of Shadowheart and Gale covered in their own blood danced to a seductive tantalizing beat. His eyes flew open as his hand gripped the dagger under his pillow so tight he could feel the leather biting into his palm.

He felt Astarion creeping back into camp before he heard him. His mind stilled and felt soothed as their tadpoles shivered a greeting.

“Ah. Good morning Alexander.” Astarion’s head dipped in greeting “I was just-” he looked like the cat that ate the canary as he tried to come up with yet another excuse for where he was always running off to while the rest of the camp slept. Some day soon Alexander would put him out of his misery and tell him he knew what he was. Every time he got near Astarion the smell of fresh blood on his breath was overwhelming and made him inexplicably yearn for a taste. During his waking hours he often let his mind drift to thoughts of pressing the vampire against something and exploring the cavern of his mouth with an eager tongue. It helped keep the hunger pangs, the dark need to cover his hands in blood at bay long enough to play at being a person.

“Good morning” Alexander spoke directly to the other man’s tadpole, not wanting to wake the others just yet. Astarion visibly flinched at the intrusion but cast a quick glance over the other two and let his face settle in grim acceptance. He nodded and disappeared into his tent letting the flap close behind him.

With a sigh Alexander rose to start his day. He stretched and made his way to their little private piece of beach, pulling off his sleep clothes as he went so he had no chance to think about how cold the water would be before he dove in. He was underwater collecting shells when he felt the other two finally rouse from their sleep and sent them each a good morning, smiling to himself when they each in turn reached out and returned the greeting. Despite all the times he couldn’t stop his mind from daydreaming about their corpses he found that he really enjoyed waking each morning with someone to say good morning to. Whoever he was in the time before his memories slipped through his fingers seemed to have been profoundly lonely. Traveling with acquaintances felt like a novelty. Something in him kept trying to pull him off from them, to isolate him but like so many other things about his instincts he continued to brush that to the side.

When Astarion finally left his tent again he found a damp, half naked Alexander sitting in front of his mirror.

“What are you doing?” He asked, an edge in his voice as he watched Alexander lining his eyes with a small piece of burnt twig from last nights fire. Alexander paused and looked up at him smiling.

“I think that’s pretty obvious don’t you?”

“I mean” Astarion scoffed “why are you doing that here? Don’t you have your own mirror?”

“I got you this.” Alexander handed Astarion a small red rock that glittered in the sunlight. “And do you see a fourth tent anywhere? I don’t know why or how you three each had an entire fucking campsite just in your pockets in those pods but I wasn’t quite so prepared ergo, I’m using yours.” He winked at Astarion before turning back to his makeup.

“You….got me a rock? What-”

“The color reminded me of you. Your eyes, you know? They’re the same red don’t you think?” He knew full well that Astarion had no way of knowing if it matched his eyes but what good is having a “secret” vampire in your group if you couldn’t torment him relentlessly about it.

“My...eyes?” Astarion momentarily went quiet and still and out of the corner of his eye Alexander saw him turning the rock examining the color as it flashed in the light. “I suppose you’re right. Still, what are we 5? Next time you want to get me a gift I accept compliments, good red wine, and fine cloth thank you very much.” Despite his protests Astarion slipped the rock in his pocket when he thought the other man wasn’t watching. Alexander finished his eyes and stood, smiling.

“Your eyes are like perfect rubies glittering in the candlelight and I could sit studying their depths for hours.” His voice was low and rasping as he leaned in slightly, losing himself in the smell of Astarion. “Something like that?” He pulled back and his voice was casual and bright again and he saw at least four different emotions flit across Astarion’s face in rapid succession.

“Something” Astarion coughed, regaining his composure “Something like that, yes. Keep practicing darling, you’ll get it.”

#bg3 #jessays #alexander/astarion #just two manipulative little pieces of shit and their pet tyrant (eventually)#charisma 18 vs charisma 10 who will win the flirt games

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jmrothwell · 1 year

Note

Another kiss prompt! 2, carrie x reggie

(Available here on AO3; Based in the same universe as this)

Reggie wasn’t ready to wake up yet, he kept his eyes firmly closed even as his mind slowly tried to combat its own grogginess. He really hoped he lost the battle with sleep again, he was far too comfortable. Arms wrapped securely around something soft and warm. Face buried in a fluffy cloud of something else full of a wonderful aroma.

This was his favorite scent, the subtle floral fruitiness had slowly faded over time. That part hadn’t really ever mattered. It was enticing and pleasant certainly but it was the underlying layers that had caught his attention.

Bold confidence, peppered with the faintest sour anxious insecurities. Icy lonely denial ebbed and flowed but always was inevitably drowned out by an auspicious determination.

His whole life he’d never been fully able to articulate how feelings like that actually smelled. Even with other wolves it was hard, though they understood better than most.

He inhaled again, lost in a sleepy fog, encapsulated by that smell. He'd do anything for this scent. Happily go to the ends of the world for it. Cheerfully follow it forever.

A low frustrated rumbling hum escaped his chest as the warm softness tried to pry itself out of his arms. Or maybe something or someone was trying to take it away from him, which was entirely unacceptable.

"Mine,” he lightly growled out-hoping to discourage what or whoever was trying to ruin his moment of peace-as he nuzzled further into the soft fluffy cushion, arms tightening around the now squirming warmth, wanting to fall back into the gentle pull of sleep.

"Yours?" Carrie's incredulous voice snapped, fingers flexed around his arms even if the pushing and wriggling had stalled with her outcry.

Oh, shit.

Reggie's eyes flew open, he could barely catch the profile of her face through all of her hair, where his face was buried, as she twisted in his arms to look at him. She was in his arms. Why was she in his arms?

No sooner had the thought popped in his head than he’d released her and scurried back away from her on the thin mattress.

This hadn’t been the first time they’d shared a bed space like this.

They’d been sleeping in close proximity for some time now. One of the complications of long journeys with little anything to pay or barter with. The few times they had been able to afford an inn it was only for a single bed.

He hadn’t wanted to share, didn’t want to invade her space-like he had just done. He had tried to avoid this very scenario. She had insisted they could share. Insisted even harder after he tried to explain he’d be fine with the floor since it wouldn’t be the first time he’d slept there.

They had been fine until last night, why did…wait.

…wait…

Suddenly, he realized there was something far more concerning that had also just occurred.

He’d called her his.

Oh.

Oh, no.

Ooooh, no no no no no.

“Reggie?” a small distant voice tried to pull him out of his head, but he was too far gone in the tunnel of his quickly spiraling thoughts.

How did he let this happen?

How could he let his dumb heart go get him into trouble again? It was always doing that. Always wanting things he couldn’t have.

It wanted a pack that cared more about each other and him. Yearned to be able to be himself around others, without having to hide who he was. To belong somewhere without fear.

And now.

Now it looked like he could no longer deny or push away or hope for this latest want of his to go away.

Except she would.

That was all she wanted. To return back home. To escape this ‘world of fractured fairy tales’ as she called it.

Their separation was an inevitability. It always had been. He knew that from day one.

“Reggie?” her hand loosely gripped his shoulder. He was torn between reaching up and grabbing hold of her hand, leaning closer to her again, and pulling away, breaking free of her gentle hold.

“Sorry, I'm sorry,” he mumbled under his breath, head swimming and threatening to overflow with too many conflicting thoughts and emotions.

He shifted in an attempt to fully get out of the bed. To give her her space again. Maybe go further. Hopefully it wasn’t too late to bury these feelings like he’s been able to before.

Her hand tightened around his shoulder, little hints of nail dug into his shirt. “No. We need to discuss this.

“What was all that about?” she asked, her weight shifting on the mattress

Reggie averted his gaze, he couldn’t meet her eyes. Not now.

“Do you like me?” she pressed on.

He felt his shoulders shrink in on him, “of course I like you.” He didn’t dare expand on that, his stomach curling in on itself. Didn’t want to think of the implications if he felt more than that.

Carrie huffed as her large dark eyes ducked into his view, a subtle way to force him to look at her. Her brows furrowed over a pouting grimace, he could see another question brewing behind her eyes, “like me how?”

Reggie grimaced, averting his gaze once more, “I’m not entirely sure.”

She didn’t like that answer, he didn’t need to look at her to know that. He could feel it radiating off her, smell it in the subtle way her scent changed.

“Why not?” she said with a sigh followed by a moment of hesitation. “Is this one of your wolf things?”

He can tell she tried to hide her disbelief at the question she asked, she didn’t hide it very well. Maybe he was better at spotting it. That had been her attitude every time she’d learned something new about him and his wolf side.

She didn’t even want to believe that much at first. If it weren’t for his tail-which he usually tried to keep hidden-she’d probably never have believed him.

While she might not be entirely wrong, he’s not entirely sure how she made that leap in logic, “why?”

Her scent sharply changed, and his eyes darted back to look her way. She was going pink but stubbornly looking ahead, keeping her head held high and face neutral.

He wondered if her heart was racing as fast as her face flushed-if it’d been closer to a full moon his hearing would sharper. But no sense in wishing for something that’d make the situation more dangerous.

Although it was peculiar that of the two of them she was the one starting to blush.

“Well, I don’t exactly know how similar you are to them but the wolves back where I come from, I’ve heard they can get possessive.” she paused to take a deep breath, spine straightening, “especially when it comes to their mates.”

Reggie’s face was burning a lot for someone who felt the blood drain from it. His eyes were surely about to fall out of his head and he couldn’t remember how to breathe.

Mate.

Here he’d been panicking about even thinking the word and she’d just spoken it so casually. Well, mostly casually, considering how pink she’d gotten. But why?

Why had she said it? What was she implying?

They had never discussed it before. Never got close to broaching the subject. Reggie had stubbornly been avoiding it. Avoided the potential to get hurt when inevitably she admitted she didn’t want that.

He hadn’t realized he’d been staring at her until she turned to lock her gaze with his again. His heart stammered in his chest.

“Reggie?” There was more to her question than simply making sure he was still listening. He could hear them all rattling around his head. Only, he didn’t know where to begin answering.

“It, it might be.” he cleared his throat. Tried to get some deeper part of him to calm down, still reeling at her words. “A wolf thing…and maybe a little more than that.

“But,” he exhaled and willed himself to not look away from her, despite how something about her look hardened. Despite how his eyes burned and stung with emotions and fears he’d been denying until now threatening to overflow. “You’re going to go home someday.”

“You could always come back home with me.” Early sunlight filtered in through the window casting her in an ethereal glow. The determined look in her eyes only faltered slightly with her next words, “but only if you want-”

“Yes.” he cut her off, his hand reached to grab hers, then he hesitated, “but why?”

She groaned, though there was a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth and she covered his hand with hers. “I like you, you goober.”

He didn’t know what goober meant but that was of little concern as the weight and tension he’d been holding in his chest for so long eased and grew lighter. She liked him. The awe from that statement rippled through him, little bursts of joy.

The nervousness returned a thousand fold when he noticed she’d been closing the distance between them. Her eyes glanced down, then back up to him from under her lashes. A gradual spicy change in her aroma had Reggie itching under his skin.

He swallowed hard and barely managed to whisper out, “Carrie, I don’t, I’ve never.”

“That’s ok.” She paused, though she was close enough he could feel the tip of her nose against his. “Do you want me to stop?”

He was desperately trying not to breathe hard, shaking his head, “no.”

Slowly she leaned forward, closing the distance between them. Her lips barely brushed against his, warm and soft. The faintest brush of sensation.

She began to pull back and it was that same feeling as when he’d groggily held her in his arms all over again. One of his hands tangled into her hair and grabbed the back of her head and pulled her closer to him again. She squeaked as their lips collided more forcefully.

It wasn’t enough. Not even by a mile.

He tilted his head and groaned as Carrie opened her mouth, her own hand trailing up his arm. His groan deepened into a growl when she pulled his bottom lip between her teeth. “Mine,” she whispered against his mouth, stoking the fire she’d ignited in his chest.

“Yours” he panted back, his lips deciding to move down her neck. The hand that wasn’t buried in her hair ran up her side, ghosting the side of her breast, “all yours.”

The two of them were soon lost in each other. Reggie loved every sound Carrie made as he chased after his new favorite smell.

#jatp sweet tarts #reggie peters #carrie wilson #kissing #wolf! Reggie #Heheheehehe #One down 18 to go. ^_^

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thomine · 1 month

Text

the 10 year bet | thoma

RELATIONSHP | thoma / reader

TAGS | general audiences, unrequited love, angst, fights & quarrels, unresolved tension, canon universe (probably far into the future...), not proofread

SUMMARY | after 10 years since he left his hometown, thoma reaches out to you. he's coming home.

WORD COUNT | 1.9k words

INFO | angstpril 2024, day 1 (homesick) | notes

The wind sings only in Mondstadt, and as Thoma steps through the large stone entrance, the wind faintly greets him with a lullaby from 10 years ago. It was a song you hummed when you rested your head on his shoulder after a long day of fun. It is a tune he sings to himself when he feels lonely in a foreign land. It is what he remembers of home.

Citizens of the nation of freedom walk slowly, as if basking in the sun instead of focusing on getting from point A to point B. Thoma never had an issue with their leisure pace 10 years ago. However, as he sets his eyes on the silhouette of the fountain in the middle of the square, legs stretching across uneven cobbled pathways, eyes hunting for gaps to weave through human traffic, annoyance nibbles his thoughts. He’s careful not to step on anyone’s toes or disrupt their route, and the constant calculation makes him restless.

He downs his irk with reason. This is the day he had been yearning for years. Every cold, electrifying kiss from the gales of Inazuma was like a punch in the gut—a reminder his skin was nurtured in gentler atmospheres. The night before, he could hardly sleep, muscles contracted with anticipation.

But today is not just the day he goes home. As he leans against the fountain, he is unsure if he’ll recognise you when you arrive. Many things can change in 10 years.

You were his best friend.

You were his close confidant.

You were the last to know of his departure as he left when you went on vacation.

You would have talked him out of going after his father with all he had—a small wooden rented boat and crates of dandelion wine. Maybe you would have helped him raise funds for a proper journey, or you might have argued with him to stay behind. Truth to be told, as much as he knew you, he could never predict your reactions when it came to him. Once, you ordered his usual instead of yours at Hunter’s Share. Another, you flared when he suggested you take an opportunity in another nation.

He thought he would never find you again, especially when his letter to your old address returned with the name of someone else. Thankfully, the old lady who stayed at your past residence knew your new address, and to Thoma’s relief, you replied.

You will be free to meet him at the fountain on the first day he visits Mondstadt. You cannot guarantee the time you’ll arrive, but you’ll be there.

Thoma waits.

The sound of water splashing behind him is off. It’s as if the concentration of the water changed, making it louder, harsher to his ears—which is strange as he’s heard rougher sounds from larger waterfalls. The marble ledge he’s leaning on isn’t quite as smooth as he remembered either.

Thankfully, his thoughts are distracted by a shadow. He looks up.

You are here.

“Kept you waiting, didn’t I?”

Thoma tries his best to control the elation running across his features.

“It wasn’t that long,” he replies, although he’s glad you appeared as soon as you did. He didn’t want to admit it, but he felt like he was playing monkey in the middle while observing everyone that walked by, forced to catch whatever they were throwing to each other with shared understanding. “It’s good to see you again. I brought you a gift from Inazuma, and I hope you like it.”

“A gift? It’s not my birthday.”

Before he can fish out the charm from his pocket, your serious tone feels like a slap on his hand. Was a reunion not a reason to give gifts?

“I’m just playing with you.” You broaden your smile. Maybe it’s 10 years in the works, but Thoma is uncertain if you’re lying or not. Still, he hands you the charm which you accept without complaint. It’s stuffed into your pocket before you even lay your eyes on it. “I’ve heard so many things about Inazuma, like how they have flowers that glow in the dark and foxes that roam freely. You wrote in your letter that you lived near a magical forest, right? How magical is it?”

“In the forest dwells small creatures called bake-danuki who are a type of tanuki. They’re dark brown with short snouts. Big eyes and round ears on the top of its head. Sometimes you’ll be chasing one and it’ll disappear only for you to realize they’ve turned into an object. I think you’ll like them.”

“They do sound interesting.”

It didn’t cross his mind that your interests were like his. Perhaps you would have spared the lucky charm some attention if it was shaped after a bake-danuki. But he digresses.

“Inazuma is a beautiful nation, and their history is rich with stories of mythical beasts, like the youkai. You’re right that you’ll see foxes sometimes, but you shouldn’t pet them. They’re still wild animals.”

You listen, slow nodding periodically.

“But enough about me. You wrote in your letter you’re doing fine.” Thoma says.

You shrug, then enter deep thought for a second.

“Where do you stay in Inazuma?” you ask. Thoma almost laughs. With how your face scrunched and twisted with contemplation, he believed you would ask a question he can’t answer.

“I currently reside at the Kamisato Estate. They’re a clan that forms the Yashiro Commission, one of the three ruling commissions in Inazuma. Would you like to visit—”

“Wow, you made your way up in a foreign land. That’s good to hear.” Teasingly—as you did years ago—you slap his shoulder, except the strength you gained also reminds Thoma things are not the same. “But of course you’ll be fine. You’re Thoma.”

“Um,” he starts, unsure how to react. This is bad. You’re angry. Fortunately—or unfortunately—he knows why. A good meal might set the mood to talk about what happened 10 years ago. “It’s been a while since I tried Mondstadt cuisine. Should we eat something at Good Hunter?”

You tilt your head in consideration. “I am peckish.” Yet you don’t move until Thoma does, which gives him the luxury of choosing a table nested far from the public.

“Are you going to order the usual?” you ask. “If you are then I can just order our dishes from Sara now.”

Thoma nods, using the moment alone to prepare himself. He’s been through worse in Inazuma trying to gain the trust and respect of the locals. He can do this…

You sit down opposite him, face blank.

He takes a deep breath. He calls your name to grab your attention, and when he meets your eyes, he opens his mouth.

“About what happened 10 years ago… you’re mad, aren’t you?” When your expression stiffens, he hangs his head low like a prisoner waiting for the next whip. “I’m sorry. If you have any questions, I will answer honestly.”

He picked a table far from the public eye for privacy since he will be addressing a touchy subject. It is a calmer atmosphere, far from the bustle of the city, but its quietness makes the click of your tongue reverberate in his ears.

“You’re making this difficult…” you mumble. “You know you had every right to leave the nation,” you start, eyes tracing the patterns of the table as a hand of yours tightens your collar in distress. “I’m not mad at you for that. I can’t be.”

A dreadful second of silence joins the conversation.

“How… did you hear of my departure?”

“You’re only asking this now?” You lift yourself off your seat and grit your teeth. Thoma raises both his hands as protection. The other time he has seen you this mad was when he wanted you to take up a scholarship in Sumeru. You were adamant on staying in Mondstadt and didn’t talk to him for a few days before apologising and announcing your decision was final.

You close your eyes and after a second of gaining composure, you sit back down. “I learned you were gone when I knocked on your door the day after I returned. No one replied. Your neighbours said you left with wine. It was only when I investigated in Dorman Port, I learnt you left on a boat to Inazuma.”

“I couldn’t tell anyone. I’m sorry.”

Word travels fast in Mondstadt. People loosen their lips when they drink, and that’s what most citizens do at night to unwind. A single whisper can be milled into a believable legend.

Thoma clasps his hands together under the table. The wind seems to respond to his silent plea with a breeze to cool his warming body.

“What would you have done if I told you my plan?” He continues.

“Does that matter now?”

He expected your words to burst him apart, but it’s you that deflates, a hand supporting your face as if you lost your backbone.

“If I were you, I would do the same. I’ll go after my father too… but I thought… I thought I was enough for you.” You’re lost and tired. For a second, you remind him of when he found himself stranded on Inazuma’s beach. In a whisper, you confess. “I loved you, that’s why it hurts. I thought you felt the same.”

Thoma swallows, and it feels like vinegar sliding down his throat. His memories of the day he left his city is a living nightmare. Somewhere deep down he knew how dangerous his journey was. He felt it in the way the winds sang loudly in his ears, a warning he might not make it back alive. He knew of your feelings, didn’t he? That’s why he didn’t want you to know he’ll embark on such a dangerous journey. He couldn’t face the hurt his actions will cause you, and he made a bet with himself that he could 10 years later.

“But I am angry at something I can be angry with.” The tears that glisten in your eyes shine like a blade as you look him down with furrowed brows. “You could have written to me, said something throughout all those years, yet you kept me up all night, worrying for no reason.”

The food arrives, and you’re quick to duck your head as you fake an excuse to touch your eyes in front of Sara. She probably heard the whole thing, hence why she’s forcing a smile and her “your meal is here!” comes out strained. As swiftly as she arrived, she sprints back to the counter. You ordered your regular meal this time.

He tries to say your name but it doesn’t come out right. It’s on his second attempt that it’s clear enough for you to abide his wishes and look at him again.

“I’m sorry,” he says, using his entire chest to turn his guilt into sincerity. It seems like he lost his own game.

You take a bite of your meal.

“Anyways,” and as you take another bite, you seem to be back to the self that greeted him at the waterfall. Distant and dull. Untouchable and unreachable. “Don’t expect much from this meeting. I only wrote back so I could give you a tour of home. Once we’re done…”

Home.

Thoma takes a bite of his meal. He can’t remember if it’s supposed to taste like that.

Home.

The word rings like an alarm.

Home.

He stares at the sky. It’s a bright, dazzling blue. A blue so blinding he must look down. Was the sky ever so hostile? Was it ever so deep in colour?

Home.

Home is where his heart belongs, and his home was 10 years ago.

#genshin x reader #thoma x reader #angstpril2024 #to the person in charge of rb-ing... please do not rb my work. just know i am participating :3 #genshin impact x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin reader insert #genshin impact x y/n #genshin x y/n #genshin x you #thoma x y/n #thoma x you #x reader #reader insert #anyways. how exciting. i have the characters planned :>#tbh this is fairly OOC a bit but i'm too tired to think and care HAHAH #slo.w

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spice-chan · 3 years

Text

Cure Me

King!singledad! Bakugo Katsuki x fem!reader

Prince Matsuki makes an interesting friend. he could have never foretold who she is to his father...

TW: curses, sickness

Thank you so much to @stargazingaloneatnight for sending this lovely request ! I totally got carried away though, so it’s going to have a second part.

Thanks a lot to @patt-writes-stuff and @reddriot for being amazing beta readers !!

Wordcount: 4.4 K

..........................................

At the ripe age of 18, you were married off to the woodcutter in your village.

You weren’t enthusiastic about it, but you didn’t dissent. After all, in a small village, all the people of close age were expected to marry eventually. It was either him, the farmer or the butcher. A prince isn’t going to come and sweep you off your feet.

You moved to the isolated cabin near the woods where your husband resided, and you lived there with him for a year. You wouldn’t exactly describe it as harmony, but it was peaceful enough for you to be content. He respected you and you respected him, but you yearned for something more.You yearned for love, for the overwhelming feeling that would envelope you whole, that would elicit shivers from your spine, and down to your very toes.

But you had to get those foolish fantasies out of your head; after all, your husband was now all you had. Until you didn’t have him anymore.

His body was found, squashed underneath a large tree that fell the wrong way.

Guilt and loss reigned in your mind and heart. You wondered, should you have appreciated him more ? Should you have cherished the little moments instead of wishing for something better?

It was a lonely existence for a while after that, until a red eyed, spikey haired little boy ventured to your isolated abode.

………

Loneliness was a disease that feasted on your open wounds until they were gaping holes, bleeding and gushing, but you were unable to stitch them back together. Who wants to be lonely, truly? So all Bakugo did was cover the open wounds with his hand, growling protectively as he shielded himself. And he couldn’t stitch together the hole in his chest, even when his hand was stained red as evidence of his pain.

He thought he loved her. He convinced himself he loved her. The only woman and person who seemingly managed to stand him and understand him. He tried so hard to be good to her. Tried to act better when he saw the gleam of judgement in her eyes. Only to wake up one day with a letter telling him “don’t look for me” and “I’ll be somewhere better. Away from you and that spawn. Good luck with him, though you’ll probably have enough soon and throw him somewhere far, the sound of his cries is annoying.”

Him.

She couldn’t bring herself to say her son’s name.

It’s like he was a disposable piece of trash to her. Katsuki’s teeth gnashed whenever he remembered the way she spoke of her own son, his son.

“DAD!” screamed a little boy, the carbon copy of his dad, running to his father's lap where he ducked down and hid between them.

Bakugo growled playfully, bending his back to look at the excitable little boy, who held his finger to his lips.

“What do you think you’re doing, squirt?”

“I’m hiding from Shitty Maid.”

Katsuki quirked his eyebrows at the foul language that came out of his son’s mouth, but his response never made the light of day as a flustered and heaving maid entered the dining chamber, her eyes frantically searching.

“My king, I’m so sorry ! Have you seen Prince Matsuki come here ?” she questioned breathlessly, the prince having evidently tired her out.

Bakugo clicked his teeth rather impertinently. “No, you shitty maid, I didn’t see him come here,” he replied and resumed eating, seemingly unperturbed by his son being ‘missing’.

“Sorry, Your Majesty, I’ll resume my search for him. Sorry to have disturbed you!” she exclaimed before picking her gown and scrambling out.

Bakugo stared beneath his chair pointedly, his carbon copy only giving doe eyes as a reply.

“Why are you hiding anyway?!”

Matsuki crawled out from underneath the chair and stood up, dusting his knees.

“She wants to teach me eti-etiquette or whatever,” Matsuki grumbled. “I’m going out to play with my friends.”

Etiquette? How useless. Is that what they are teaching his son?

Bakugo clapped his back, glad to see his son not be a pushover. “Don’t be late, squirt.”

“Ok, dad!” Matsuki jumped and enveloped Katsuki’s muscular frame in a hug with his tiny arms, warming Katsuki’s heart as he ruffled his son’s spiky hair.

……..

Matsuki couldn’t find his friends.

He ventured into the woods in search of them, sporting a scowl everyone should be familiar with. His tiny, handsome face scrunched slightly as he looked around the place curiously. His feet padded on, scrunching on crispy fallen leaves in their wake.

He walked for a while, marking trees as he went along to ensure he didn’t get lost, but eventually, a sugary sweet scent had his tiny legs move faster on their own accord in search of it. The closer he seemingly got, the more powerfully the mouth watering scent assaulted his nose. It smelled cozy on this chilly day, like a warm cup of milk by a warm fire as snow fell outside.

He reached a clearing. The thick, intimidating trees that loomed over him shrunk away until there was none left.

No trees, but he found a small cabin with a window cracked open.

He boldly marched up to it, his mouth set in a straight, determined line. A fisted palm knocked once, twice, and thrice on the worn out wood, to ensure that it was heard.

His nervousness set in when the handle turned and a lady emerged at the threshold. He steeled himself. His daddy told him that if he wanted something, he should work to get it.

You smiled at him warmly when you spotted him: a young, unfamiliar boy. He looked out of his element, but his strange red eyes stared at you despite how he seemed to be unused to such situations. His eyes reflected the embers of a brave soul.

“There was a nice smell coming from here,” he admitted, his tiny face scrunching into a scowl that seemed more adorable than anything.

“Well, yes, I baked cookies,” you responded mildly, your voice never too high but quite clear. The boy’s eyes widened, his red hues glistening in child-like excitement.

“Cookies?!” He jumped, and clutched your gown.

“Can I have some ?” Puppy dog eyes stared up at you, pleading and cute. You haven’t encountered a child in a long time. You stopped going to the village as often, and eventually, they stopped visiting too. Your mother died after she contracted something, her old body unable to fight it off, and your dad ran off somewhere to ‘adventure’.

“Sure.” You moved from the threshold. “Come in.” You gestured with your head to your small cottage, a humble place, but a reminder of your lonesome existence.

He brightened up considerably, his mouth twisting into a sweet smile. He would become such a handsome young man once he grew up. It made you wonder how beautiful his parents must be.

You pulled a chair for him at the table, and went to put some cookies on a plate for him.

“YUM. That’s so delicious!” He spoke between mouthfuls, some tiny crumbs flying out of his mouth in his excitement.

“Thank you, but be careful. You might choke if you speak while chewing sweetie,” you chided him lightly. Matsuki didn’t recognize this tone, it sounded equal parts stern and caring. He nodded and continued munching down.

“Would you like to drink something? I have some orange juice, and uh, water. I could make tea, but I don’t think kids your age fancy that you rambled, suddenly excited about having someone keep you company for the first time in a while.

He opened his mouth to answer, but upon remembering your words, he opted to chew for a few more seconds then swallowing his cookies before bellowing out,“Yes! Orange juice.”

How adorable.

You poured two glasses of orange juice and joined your little companion, munching on some cookies of your own. Before long, he finished all of them and leaned back on the chair, mouth letting out a sigh and hand patting his stomach as a show of overindulgence.

“Good?”

“Yup! You’re a very nice lady. Way nicer than my dummy maid,” he grumbled, you weren’t sure whether to be flattered or concerned, but one thing did grab your attention.

“Maid ?”

He nodded, slightly confused at your question.

“Don’t you have one ?” You quirked an eyebrow and looked around your tiny cottage. Did it look like you have one?

Oh God, you hoped this boy wasn’t mistaking his mother for a maid. With that in mind, you asked him, however, his face fell in sadness and the fire in his eyes dulled a little.

“I don’t have a mother. The maids always talk about how sorry they are for me. I hate it. None of them even care about me,” he spoke in a quiet voice, tearing at your heart with his down turned face.

“But at least I have my daddy,” he spoke up, brightening a little. You smiled at that, reaching towards him and ruffling his fluffy yet spikey blond hair.

“That’s good. Keep cherishing your father, at least the two of you have each other.” You wiped some crumbs from around his mouth with a napkin, speaking to the boy in a lonesome voice; unintentionally mothering him.

He smiled and nodded;unintentionally accepting.

The boy was either mistaking some people in his household for maids, or he was some rich merchant’s son. On that note—

“Did you tell anyone you’re coming here? They might be worried about you,” you asked cautiously, but then your eyes widened as a new wave of worry hit you.

“Oh my God, what if you got lost? Do you know your way back?”

You sighed in relief when he nodded, flashing you a smile with his teeth on display, one of them missing from the front, making it all the more endearing. You narrowed your eyes at him, prompting him to elaborate.

“I always come to play around here with my friends. It’s really close to home!” You oo’d. However, it was now his turn to panic. “Oh no, I forgot all about them !” He looked outside, seeing the sun shining proudly in the centre of the sky.

“I think I can still catch them,” he declared determinedly, and hopped off his seat. His tiny legs carried him to the door, his pale hand grasping the worn down doorknob, but before twisting it, he turned to you, his smile of youth gracing his face again.

“See you later, nice lad !”

.……..……

“No way! You wanted to be a pirate? But they’re so nasty!” he exclaimed, scrunching his nose at you in disgust. You shrugged, shoulders slumped.

“I thought it’d be a fun time. I found it in a book and dreamed that one day, I too can embark on an adventure and find hidden treasures,”you explained with a dreamy, yet nostalgic look in your eyes, akin to one looking back fondly at a long gone memory. It’s been nearly a year since you met the mystery child. You’ve been...noticeably happier.

His cherry red orbs made your day, along with an innocence that was very hard to maintain in these tough times, although that's probably because his toughness differs from yours.

He pouted, running a hand through his tamed locks. “Well, why can’t you?”

He stared up at you expectantly, oblivious to what he was expecting. His red orbs burwith ith the flame of innocenand and didnuldn’t dare blow it out.

“I don’t know.”

Even for his young age, he was perceptive. Bbut before he could question your downtrodden face, you stood up, coughing loudly. It went on for a few seconds, and Matsuki watched worriedly as you cupped your hand over your mouth, shoulders shaking from the force.

After you stopped, you breathed for a few seconds, face flushed and stamina depleted. But again, before he could question anything, you stood up, stretching. The sun hit your face, which looked noticeably paler, but you forced a smile anyway, and held your hand out for Matsuki to grab and follow suit.

“Let’s go inside, you wanted me to redo your hair, right ?” He grabbed your hand with renewed vigor, hopping off the wood and trekking with you back inside the cottage.

He said his maid had to slick his hair back because they had guests over and he ‘had to look more presentable’, which you internally scoffed at. His hair was amazing as it was.

You’d never seen a texture so amazing. It was soft as silk, but it appeared spikey. Like a porcupine or something, looked thorny but had a soft side?

You brought some water and wet his hair, before drying it with a towel. You could already see some results. You brought a hairbrush and began to hum softly while brushing his semi dry blond locks.

You towelled it once again, before patting him across the back. Your head felt light, and a light pain began to creep in. You probably need some water.

“THANK YOU! It was so ugly before.” He pranced about, happy that his hair no longer looked like some ‘sappy extra’. You wonder where the child got those interesting phrases. You stood up to get a glass of water, but the moment you stood up, the world swirled, spinned, and blurred. And then it all faded to black.

You hit the floor with a loud thump, and Matsuki sprung to his feet and frantically ran to your side.

His small hands grabbed your arm and shook you, his face growing warm and throat getting clogged up, before tears burst forth. They dampened your sleeves, continuously flowing like a waterfall, but you still remained almost lifeless on the floor. Matsuki was young, helpless, and alone.

And he did what any young, helpless and crying child would do.

He ran to the person he loves —his father.

……………

Bakugou heard the sound of Matsuki running before h, felt the wind, tornado like, as the doors of his room were pushed open in a manner so excitable he’d consider it rather insolent had it not been his own son.

His reprimands were stuck in his throat when he saw the flushed face and bloodshot eyes of his shis heart aching at the sight.

“What’s wongh” he asked softly, the tone rather unusual coming from him. Then again, his son coming to him crying was something very rare.oo., Matsuki took after his and and he was a very brave and strong boy. Something that Bakugou lamented about, at times. Being his carbon copy wasn’t that much of a blessing when it came to the matters of the heart.

Matsuki found his dad sitting at his desk, he ran to him and clung to his legs, crying uncontrollably.

It took Bakugou a second to overcome his awkwardness and emotional constipation. He scooped his son up and sat him on his lap, wiping his tears away.

“Hey squirt, calm down and tell me what’s wrong. If it’s someone that upset you, God help them-”

Matsuki tried to halt his hiccups, failing for a few seconds while he hugged his dad, he patted his back comfortingly.

“Dad, my friend…” he began, but his eyes watered as a fresh batch of tears threatened to burst.

“What happened to your friend, Matsuki?”

Matsuki sniffled, wiping his eyes before continuing.

“So, she’d been sick for a few weeks, but today when I visited her, she fell and wouldn’t wake up,” Matsuk explainedd, clutching into Bakugou tightly.

Bakugou hummed, nodding solemnly.

“Can you take me where your friend is?”

Matsuki nodded, but Katsuki was dubious about the nature of this pursuit. His distrustful nature was shining through.If this ‘friend’ was outside the protective barrier, then Katsuki didn’t know what to really expect. So before leaving his room, he donned his protective amber around his neck, a magical jewel chosen by his dragon when he was younger. All shifters choose an enchanted jewel to guard their existence and warn them of dangers. He made sure to pick up his son’s, looping the necklace around his neck, the jewel dangling and shining.

He needed to give his son a talk about this.

…………

They walked in the forest for a while before reaching a small, worn out looking cottage. Bakugou arched a blond eyebrow, more curious than ever. He’d think it was a ploy with more sinister intentions, luring both prince and king but… he’d never seen his son more shook up over someone, they must mean a lot to him. He couldn’t bear to delay this.

They reached the door, the wood creaking as Bakugo opened it. His ruby eyes started searching for you, and when they caught your figure on the floor, they began gleaming.

He felt the breath knocked out of him when he saw you, asleep (he hoped) like an angel with your hair looking wild but still adding to your charm like a halo. You looked so soft, so precious, and it felt like his life only began this moment when he caught sight of you.

His heartbeat was so strong, he could feel it in his very eyes, who were overwhelmed with the most beautiful person he’d ever seen. He had seen plenty of beautiful women, ones he didn’t spare a second glance at, extras, unworthy of his time. But for some reason, the beauty of you rooted him in his spot and halted all rational thoughts. He was only broken out of his reverie when Matsuki shook him. He felt a rush of love, devotion, and ease like he’d never felt before. It all made sense, the sense of loneliness, of being lost when his path is clear in front of him. Of finding every potential romantic partner lukewarm at best.

“Dad. Can you help her ? I don’t want her to be sick anymore.”

And in that moment, it dawned on him.

Katsuki found his soulmate, but there’s a chance he might have already lost her.

He ran to you checking your vitals, and thankfully, everything seemed fine. He put his forehead against yours, cursing when he felt a scalding fever.

“What happened ?” He picked one of the numerous questions buzzing in his head.

“Well, she did my hair like I’d asked her, but the moment she stood up, she fell down! I tried waking her up, but she wouldn’t. She’d been coughing a lot the past few weeks too and looking tired,” Matsuki explained clearly, now comforted by having his father share the weight with him.

Katsuki looked around at the rather shabby place. Fit for a commoner. Not you.

He was baffled at having a mate. Only the most legendary, wise and favoured dragons did, the dragons that made it to history scriptures. Things no one considered him to be. Things he was succumbing to not being. Things she convinced him he wasn’t. Sure, he could fight deadly wars, bring nations down to their knees, but violence did not warrant a soulmate.

He scoop you up, closer to his chest. Heyouyou tightly, heart physically hurting at the thought of you being in pain. He just met you, what’s with him ?

He stood up, nudging his son to leave.

What a coincidence. An insane, crazy coincidence.

His son, his only blessing in this shrouded world, was what led him to the one thing nobody thought he’d have.

“Tell me more on the way.

Matsuki nodded.

……………

Bakugou laid you on his bed, surrounding you with the softest materials one could ever touch. He pulled a chair besides you, lounging on it as he waited for a healer to arrive.

You remained unconscious, but it seems like your temperature increased even more. He was so lost in his own thoughts, that he didn’t register that Matsuki walked inside the room until he was addressing him.

“Is she going to be alright ?” Bakugou didn’t have the heart to tell him the truth, then again, he didn’t have the heart to lie to him either.

“I don’t know.” Somehow saying it out loud hurts even more.

A knock on the door broke the gloominess.

“Come in.”

Hope walked in, in the shape of a short, old lady with medical equipment.

Recovery Girl inspected you, from temperature to heartbeat. And when done, she sighed.

“Everything boils down to it being a simple fever, but in that case, she wouldn’t be unconscious,” she explained ambiguously. She took one of your hands, and andr fingertips were icy cold.

She hummed contemplatively. She brought out a healing crystal, squeezing it in one fist, while she held your hand in the other. The idea was to transfer the healing energy from the crystal to you, only possible through a healing mage.

However, when nothing seemed to happen, Recovery Girl opened her fist. She found a shattered crystal.

“Oh my…”

Bakugou growled, frustration willing up and tipping over. “The fuck!”

Recovery Girl glared at him. Such language shouldn’t be used in front of a child.

“Typical healing methods aren’t going to work.”

Silence reigned over this time, willing the old lady to continue on, both his and his son’s hearts on the edge.

“I believe she’d been cursed.”

Bakugou scrunched up his eyebrows at the absurd explanation. Who’d curse you of all people ? He only just discovered your existence!

Yet for some reason, he felt like he’d rather die than let you, the one who could love him for all his flaws, the one who always brought a smile on his son’s face, suffer.

“How?” The deity up there must be very cruel, to take you away when he just met you.

“I don’t know, son. There’s a very strong, malevolent energy, enough to break a healing crystal. It’s going to make her body reject anything that could heal it,” she explained solemnly.

“If you want this young lady healthy and well, we need to take different measures to heal her. Also, do you know who cursed, or where she could have incurred it? That will be very helpful.”

Bakugou looked at Matsuki, knowing that he himself is clueless.

“This is the first time I met her. Matsuki seems to have met her a while ago in her tiny ass cottage outside the protective barrier.” She looked like she had some questions, but instead directed her attention to the little Bakugou and asked him what matters most right now.

“Do you know anyone that might’ve done this? Have you seen her interact with anyone that could possibly be capable of it?” She knew asking a child would likely be more fruitless then not, but she still wished to help you in any way she could.

Matsuki shook his head.

“I’ve never even seen her talk with anyone.” This only served to increase Bakugou’s suspensions. Could it be something to do with your affiliation with Matsuki ? And if that was the case, then there’s so many other things he must take into account too, because that would mean that there’s a traitor in their midst, or at least someone that had been tracking Matsuki for… what fucking ever reason.

He sighed, feeling an ache beginning to form in his head. He touched your arm, wanting to reassure himself that you are alive.

A gasp rang out from the occupants of the room when you opened your eyes, making them seem glowy when the sunlight reflected off them, giving you an ethereal, angelic radiance.

The air left his lungs, while blood rushed to his cheeks, making them seem ripe as apples.

“How is this possible?”

This shocked him awake, out of his reverie and into reality.

Recovery Girl glanced at the arm Bakugo was touching, humming to herself with a knowing glint in her old, wise eyes.

“Well, my king, did you forget? The oldest, most powerful magic that dragons have been gifted::soulmates.”

Bakugo blushed again, kissing his teeth and glaring at Recovery Girl.

“What are you babbling on about, old hag?”

“I believe you know.”

He glared at the ground, childishly not answering.

“Um...what’s going on?” A small, feminine voice asked. Bakugou turned to you, melting at the majestic sound of your voice.

“That’s a good question.” That brat.

Bakugou tried to stay in contact with you, afraid of making the burst of magic triggered by your bond slipping away.

“Uh, you lost unconsciousness and Matsuki asked me to help you. Oh, and apparently you were cursed.” Bakugou bluntly spits the facts at you, not thinking ahead for your reaction.

“A CURSE?” you shouted, coughing after due to hoarseness. The old hag shot Bakugou another glare, before sweetening up and looking at you.

“We’ll explain after you rest a bit and freshen up, you’d been through quite a bit.” she said, deliberately not divulging any information yet. She didn’t need to be there for the grand explanation. She’d rather not be, actually.

She stood on her weary legs, leaving the room unnoticed as you admired your surroundings, and as Bakugou admired you. Matsuki’s stare lacked the burn of fascination as he stared at his father grumpily.

“The fuck you looking at her so weird for?” Matsuki seethed. You gasped and turned to him.

“Matsuki!” He bristled in frustration, having forgotten how much you hated it when he cursed.

“Sorry. He was though!”

Bakugou, throughout the whole thing, glared at his son with blushing cheeks. He wanted to spank some respect into him so bad right now.

You turned to Bakugo, gaze weighty in the seriousness it’s burdened with.

“Thanks for helping me, I appreciate it. You’re Matsuki’s father, right? The resemblance is hard to miss. Well, I have a lot of questions, but firstly, what do you mean by cursed?”

You felt as if a rock was pressed against your chest, gloom overtaking your features as you awaited his answer. Still hopeful that it was a joke, but the ancient dark magic was not to be joked with.

“Someone cursed you. It’s the cause for your sickness, and it’s slowly sapping the life out of you. You’re only awake because uh...the magic of our bond is more powerful.” Bakugou rushed the last part, his heart beating, squeezing painfully when silence hung in the air after his not so confession.

You purse your lips, the movement catching Bakugo’s attention, drawing him to your lips. Supple, kissable lips.

“Our bond?”

Bakugo nodded.

“You’re my soulmate, it’s why—probably why Matsuki was so drawn to you.” Bakugo was looking forward to explaining more, before his door was busted open (a common occurrence these days it seems) by a panting soldier, who summoned the strength to salute stiffly.

“Your majesty, we have received a letter from Celeane Siloh.”

Well, what a great introduction to the family.

...............

Kofi

Don’t forget to like and reblog if you enjoyed this !

#bakugou x reader #bakugo #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki imagine #bakugou katsuki fanfics #bakugou katuski x reader #bnha fanfiction #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugou fanfiction #mha bakugou #fantasy bnha #fantasy!bnha #dragon king bakugou #dragon!bakugou #single dad bakugou #katsuki bakugou fluff #katsuki bakugo

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aggravatetheaxe · 3 years

Note

Lester sinclair, prompt 11? 👀

I assume this is for the Fucked Up Kisses?

CW: drunken Lester makes out with drunken reader! But it's mutual drunken shenanigans; mentions of divorce (reader)

Gender neutral reader!

You sat in the bed of Lester's pickup truck, swinging your legs back and forth off the end and laughing as he tried - unsuccessfully - to catch one of the frogs surrounding the water. He'd been trying for several minutes, but he was also several beers past tipsy, and if he didn't quit playing around the pond, he was gonna end up at the bottom of it.

It was golden hour, just before sunset, and the sun was leaking through the trees, dappling the woods with yellow. It'd been years since you'd been out to the old pond, but it looked just the same as you remembered it, albeit a little overgrown. You'd only lived a few towns away, but the last decade, it had seemed ... silly to come all the way out here.

It wasn't until the divorce and reconnecting with Lester that you had a reason to revisit your glory days. High school. The back roads, the woods, this pond. Pretty sad, isn't it? As you watched your old friend, you took a deep drink of your beer.

He dove for another frog but miscalculated its distance and slid his arm through the mud instead. "Damn!"

"You best be careful, Lester Sinclair." You grinned, realizing your words were slurring just a bit. "You're gonna fall face first in all that muck and scum."

He looked up, matching your smile, his warm brown eyes crescents. "D'be the first bath I had in a while!"

You laughed. "Oh, c'mon, don't sell yourself short."

Lester had always been a good friend. Loyal. When you'd found yourself yearning for those glory days, for the [Y/N] you'd been before all the shit, he'd been the first person you'd checked in on. The way you two picked up right where you'd left off had been ... amazing. You thought about how damn lucky you were as he finally came back to the truck, shaking the mud off his arm on his way.

He finally decided to discard his overshirt altogether, throwing it into the bed before hoisting himself up beside you. "Sure is a pretty day. Can't wait for sunset."

"Nothin' like a summer sunset." You took another deep drink of your beer, finishing off the can and chucking it behind you like the rest. Bracing your hands on either side of you, you couldn't help but notice that your fingers were mere inches away from Lester's.

You fought the urge to reach over. Lester was an old friend ... one of the only friends you still had around these parts, after your divorce and with everyone moving away. You didn't want to ruin that.

He wasn't as stupid as everyone seemed to think - he noticed the awkward silence. "Ya wan' another?"

"I prolly shouldn't, but ... what the hell. May as well finish what we started."

Lester smiled, turning to grab the last can from the pack and cracking it open for you.

"Thanks." You raised it to your lips, sighing happily. Still cold. Throwing your head back, you chugged a couple mouthfuls, washing down a decade of regret and bitterness. This was a new chapter of your life. A new beginning. At least you had one friend.

You swallowed, straightening again. As you did, Lester caught your eye - he was staring at you, lips parted, a profound look of tenderness and ... you dared to call it longing on his face.

"What's up?" you asked, brows drawing.

He blinked. Apparently, he hadn't meant for you to notice him staring, or hadn't realized he was, because he glanced away at once. His cheeks blazed pink, and he brought his hands to his lap, toying with them anxiously. "Nothin'." He hesitated. "Jus' been so long since I seen you ... never thought we'd be like this again."

You smiled, hiding your emotional exhaustion with a smile. "Me neither. But I feel like myself for the first time in a while. So I'm glad ... real glad."

"Me, too," Lester agreed readily. An awkward silence fell between you again - just a short one, one full of words unsaid - before he continued. "I always ... liked you, y'know, a awful lot." He sat straighter, puffing his chest out a bit and trying to look confident despite his slurred speech. "Ain't right that your [ partner / man / woman ] took you away from here."

"Everybody went away from Ambrose," you murmured. "But ... ya know. The ol' ball 'n' chain." You peered at him, smiling. "I always liked you, too."

But you didn't dare hope that he meant it in that way. You shouldn't be hoping that, not this soon after a split. You were confused, you tried to convince yourself ... didn't remember how to be alone after so long. It wouldn't be fair to either of you to indulge in thoughts like that.

At length, Lester added, "I wish you'da stayed." He glanced at the pond, then back, brows tilted. "Times Ambrose gets real lonely, but ... I ain't leavin'. Can't. Ya know?"

"Yeah ... you or your fool brothers."

"I got my own place," he returned, too drunk and eager to get defensive. "It ain't much, but it's home. Maybe - " He hesitated. "Maybe you'd like ta come over sometime..."

You opened your mouth to respond, but you weren't sure what to say. All that escaped you was a breathless little laugh. Was he inviting you for a friendly visit, or...?

His fingers were warm, brushing against your knuckles. You glanced down to see him cover your hand with his, then glanced back up just as he leaned in. Your heart fluttered, stomach flipping. Before you knew it, you were leaning in, too.

He wasn't practiced when it came to kissing, that much was clear. As your lips met, he was a little too eager, but in your drunken state, you found it easy to match his enthusiasm, leaning in and cupping his jaw. Before you knew it, you were in each other's arms, fingers tangled in each other's hair. He tasted like nicotine and beer, and ... if you weren't mistaken, mouthwash.

Lester wasn't known for smelling minty fresh. It made you wonder if he had planned this; if he'd gotten up today and promised himself he'd make a move during your visit. If he'd planned, even sober, on kissing you like this. If he'd been nervous and swished some expired Listerine 'cause he'd wanted his breath to smell good for you.

The thought made you melt deeper into him, and he took the opportunity to pull your bottom half closer until your thighs were touching.

When he finally pulled away, he squeezed you tight. You were both drunk as Cooter Brown, but he sounded surprisingly sober when he said, "Yer home now. Yer home."

#lester sinclair #lester sinclair imagine #lester sinclair x y/n #lester sinclair x reader #lester sinclair x you #house of wax 2005 #slasher x y/n #slasher x reader #slasher x you #written

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restlessfandoming · 3 years

Text

campfire in the snow (chilumi)

hey friends back again with that fanfic writing :^)

this is my headcannon that childe absolutely suffers during the colder winter months as a hydro user (based on this post here) so SOMEONE’s gotta take care of him

in other words, a chilumi...chilumine? lumichilde? CHILDE X LUMINE sick fic !!!

thanks for reading as always <3

[Fic Masterlist]

“campfire in the snow”

“Ahchoo!”

Lumine glanced at Childe, watching him sniffle miserably as they walked through the woods towards Mondstadt.

The sky was overcast, giving the land the hazy gray glow of winter, and the chilly temperature felt stiff against shivering bodies—their coats only warming them slightly. Their shoes crunched in the snow from last night’s snowstorm; the promise of another snowfall hung in the air.

“Are you sick?” Lumine asked.

Childe gave a weak smile. “Of course not. In top shape as always.” Then, AHCHOO! Another sneeze.

Paimon popped up in front of the Harbinger’s face, staring directly at his red nose. “You don’t sound so good to me. Paimon thinks you’re sick!”

“Hate to say it, but I definitely agree with Paimon,” Lumine said, ignoring the guide’s flailing arms of anger. “I think we need to get you somewhere warm.”

The orange haired man playfully scoffed. “All I need to do is speak with the Grand Master of the Knights. Easiest mission of my—sniff—life.”

The traveler stopped in her tracks, and took off her own scarf, holding it out for Childe. “Then at least take this. I think you need this more than me.”

He looked at the scarf, eyes almost glazing over from yearning. He shook his head. “I’d never take something from a lady in need.”

Lumine almost threw the scarf at him. “I’m not in need.”

“And she’s not a lady; have you seen her eat?”

“Paimon.”

“Paimon only tells the truth!”

“Thank you, really, but it’s just a little reaction to the colder weather. No big deal,” Childe assured, walking past Lumine’s offering.

“What’s his problem?” she muttered, as he walked ahead. She heard him coughing in the distance. Why won’t he just take it?

“He doesn’t seem so threatening now, does he?” Paimon said. “Paimon’s never seen him so weak…”

“Weak…,” Lumine echoed.

Of course.

Childe was a member of the Fatui. A Harbinger. A deadly fighter. Someone who used a bow despite it being his weakest weapon.

He would never accept help like this, not when it made him feel weak.

Lumine groaned in frustration. Stupid, stupid man. She continued on the path, picking up her pace to try and catch up to him.

Except he was nowhere to be seen. The cold set into her body a little more.

“Childe?” she called out. She ran down the path, eyes scanning every inch of the snowy road and fields. Then—

“Lumine, look!” Paimon shouted, speeding over to Childe’s body laying in the snow.

The blonde traveler quickly scrambled to his side, flipping him over so his face wasn’t buried in the snow. He was drained of color, and his body felt ice cold. There was barely air leaving his nose.

“Childe!” she called, shaking him. Wake up; please, wake up!

He didn’t move. Lumine cursed.

“What should we do?” Paimon asked frantically.

Lumine took a deep breath in, then took off her own coat and scarf, placing it on Childe’s shoulders. She shuddered as the winter air nipped at her skin.

“Now you’re gonna freeze to death!”

“It’s okay, Paimon,” she said, beginning to pick up the unconscious man. “We need to find somewhere to stop and start a fire.”

Paimon nodded worriedly, trying to (unsuccessfully) help Lumine shoulder Childe. The traveler eventually had his arm slung across her shoulders, and her arm gripped his waist.

The three shuffled down the path, searching for any sort of shelter or firewood. As time went on, Lumine felt colder and colder, her whole body beginning to ache under the weight of Childe. Every so often, she would call out his name, hoping to hear a response, but there was nothing.

As she crested the top of the hill, she spotted a tiny cabin at the base. Her ragged breath became concentrated as she mustered up the last of her energy to drag Childe there.

“Almost...there…,” she strained out. No response.

“Come on! You can do it!” Paimon cheered, though her scared expression betrayed her positivity.

Lumine was mere feet away from the door when she heard a familiar high pitched and distorted laughter ring out behind her.

An Abyss Mage!

She turned to see it prancing around in its bubble, icicles swirling around it.

Great, a Cryo Mage at that.

She set Childe down gently, then drew her sword. The blade shook in her hand, her teeth chattering. And she still felt winded. But I have to protect us.

“Try to wake him up,” she told Paimon. The tiny fairy nodded and started tapping his shoulder.

Lumine charged the mage. Her blade scraped against the frozen barrier. She slashed frantically, making miniscule scratches. Around her, icicles fell as the mage chanted spell after spell. It took all of her will to continuously dodge the attacks. Charging enough energy, she unleashed a Palm Vortex. The shield cracked considerably.

I can do this. She leapt at the mage, striking a few times, then casted a Gust Surge. The bubble crackled. A few more hits and the shield will be down. Then, it’ll be a piece of cake.

She started concentrating, trying to summon another Palm Vortex, when an icicle came unexpectedly from the side, slamming into her. She crumpled to the ground.

Nononono. She tried to get up, arms shaking, fighting the exhaustion in her body.

The sinister laughter drew closer as the mage floated towards her. It raised its staff, ready to deliver the finishing blow.

“Hey!”

Lumine looked past the mage.

There stood Childe, hunched over, gripping his side, but standing. She almost cried out in relief.

The mage made noises of anger, blinking away, then reappearing closer to Childe.

The Harbinger raised his hand, droplets forming from his palm.

No, Childe wait—! His Hydro elements didn’t stand a chance in this battle.

The beginnings of his spear formed. But then, the water quickly crystallized, turning into shards of ice, and dropping to the ground. Childe winced painfully.

Lumine jumped up on her feet, her energy renewed, and raced towards the mage.

The mage raised its staff again, forming a huge icicle above Childe. He wouldn’t have enough time to move, especially in his condition. The shard started falling.

“Childe!” Lumine screamed.

He closed his eyes. The mask sitting atop his head began to glow. It crackled with purple electricity, and spiraled out, creating a barrier. The large icicle shattered on impact. The mage shrieked in confusion.

Lumine took the distraction, and destroyed the Abyss Mage’s shield, then stabbed its critical point: right through its head. It vanished into the air.

“Good job...traveler…,” Childe said between heavy breaths. His voice sounded distorted, his eyes and expression darker than before. The electro-shield came down, and Lumine watched as he fell to his knees, before rushing over, and catching him before he fell down completely.

She felt his forehead on her bare shoulder. “You’re burning up,” she whispered.

He laughed weakly, before descending into coughs. “I hate to say it, but I think you were right,” he murmured.

She saw Paimon opening the door to the cabin. “Okay, c’mon, we only have a little bit to go, then we can rest.” She felt him nod.

When the three finally got into the cabin, Lumine laid Childe down, folding their scarves to make a pillow, and covering him with their coats. Paimon helped carry some pieces of wood to her, and soon a small fire was started. The guide disappeared back into her world to let Lumine rest.

Lumine finally let out a sigh of relief. She looked over Childe, making sure he didn’t have any injuries she didn’t notice before. Her eyes fell on his mask, the mask that created the electro-shield earlier.

Two elements? That shouldn’t be possible. Was he different, like her? Not of this world? There was certainly something dark about the mask, lurking beneath the surface.

She reached for the mask. Childe’s hand weakly sprung up, catching her before she could touch it. His eyes were still closed.

“Now, now, we don’t touch things that aren’t ours—isn’t that right, girlie?” he teased quietly. His voice was hoarse, strained.

“Even on the verge of death, you love teasing me,” Lumine responded. He still hadn’t let go of her wrist. “And anyways, I dragged you all the way here. You could at least tell me what that thing is.”

He opened his eyes, narrowly. “Sorry, sweetheart, Fatui secret.” Lumine tried pulling her wrist away, but he held onto it, then shifted it so he was holding her hand. “Thank you, Lumine.”

She blushed. “I couldn’t just leave you out there to die.” She looked at their intertwined hands. “Why did you take this mission anyways? You know it’s dangerous during the Cryo months for a Hydro user like you.”

There was a long pause of silence. She almost thought he had fallen asleep.

“It was for Mondstadt,” he finally replied. “I knew you would be here.”

She was feeling warm. Too warm. Is it the fire? Am I getting sick too?

“You should get some sleep. You’ll feel better when you wake up,” she said, completely avoiding what he said. He nodded and closed his eyes, a faint smile on his lips.

Lumine observed his sleeping face, how harmless he seemed right now. None of his antics. None of the mystery surrounding him. None of that lurking darkness. Just a sick, lonely boy. A sick, lonely boy completely vulnerable to the world.

She started to get up, maybe to go cook some stew for him, but to her surprise, Childe held tightly to her hand.

“Stay,” he said, hazily. His eyelids were fluttering, like he was struggling to open them.

“...Okay.” Tired herself, she laid down next to him, tucking herself under the coats as well, glad for the warmth.

He pulled her closer, letting go of her hand, and instead wrapped his arms around her waist, tucking his head under her chin, like he was listening to her heartbeat—a heartbeat that was surely beating way too fast right now. This sickness is making him delusional…

She was about to start protesting when he started speaking.

“No one ever stays,” Childe whispered. It had been no louder than a small leaf rustling in the nighttime wind; Lumine might not have heard it if she wasn’t listening. Her heart broke a little.

She wrapped her arms tightly around him. You’re not alone.

“I’m here,” she whispered back. “I’m right here.”

#genshin impact #genshin childe #genshin lumine #genshin tartaglia #childe x lumine #chilumi #childe #lumine #tartaglia #lumine x childe #fanfic #sickfic #me

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the-scandalorian · 3 years

Text

Tempered Glass: Chapter 6

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Reader Rating: M (will become explicit) Word Count: 4k Warnings: slow burn, sad feels/angst, canon-typical violence, cursing, sexy thoughts, pining Summary: When Fennec Shand reveals your true identity to the Mandalorian, you do your best to pick up the pieces. Notes: I’m sorry this took me so long!! I rewrote it like six times because I couldn’t get it to feel right. Next chapter should be much faster. Taglist: @bbdoyouloveme @beskarhearts @dincrypt @dunderr @honey-hi @just-me-and-my-obsessions00 @mbpokemonrulez @oloreaa @red-leaders @speakerforthedead0 @spideysimpossiblegirl @theflightytemptressadventure @ubri812 @zoemariefit

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Image from The Art of Star Wars: The Mandalorian

Fuck. Panic coursed through your veins and paralyzed you. Your brain moved infuriatingly slowly as you tried to think of a way to stop the disaster that was unfolding before your eyes.

And yet...despite your fear and despite the fact that this terrifying, high-level bounty hunter had once tracked you, hearing Fennec call you sweetheart made your stomach drop—in a pleasant way, not at all like when Toro had done the same. She was beautiful, strong, mysterious, intimidating. What little you saw of her fighting style confirmed that she was lithe and exacting—catlike in her grace and prowess. A sexy armored bounty hunter.

I have a type.

You shunted that wildly unhelpful train of thought out of your head to refocus on the crisis at hand.

You looked at Mando. “I—”

“What’s she talking about?” he prompted. You couldn’t tell if you were projecting because you felt guilty or if he really did sound a little hurt.

You opened your mouth again to respond, but Fennec beat you to it.

“Oh, you don’t know?” Even in the dark, you could see Fennec’s eyes sparkle in delight as she addressed Mando. “I don’t know how this one stayed off your radar,” she explained. “She was wanted by the Empire for years. Huge bounty... She looks a little different now—check her chest for a scar to make sure, but I’d bet her bounty it’s there.”

Mando had already seen the scar. He knew Fennec was right.

You caught the hungry look on Toro’s face as he drank in everything Fennec was saying. His eyes trailed down your face and landed shamelessly on your chest. You could practically hear the wheels turning in his head as he tried to think up a way to confirm your identity and claim the reward for both you and Fennec. This little fucker.

Fennec looked at you, and you took a step back involuntarily. “You’ve gotten sloppy, baby. There’s been chatter for weeks that you resurfaced on Nevarro. If I hadn’t been pinned down here, I’d have come for you myself.”

Her words felt like ice sliding down your throat and settling in your stomach. You’d figured that news of your sighting would probably get out, but you had hoped against hope that the blue-haired bounty hunter had been taken out before she’d been able to spread the word.

Mando was silent, fists clenched tightly at his sides, visor glued on Fennec. Pulling yourself together, you grabbed his arm and dragged him a safe distance away.

“I was going to tell you. I’m sorry,” you blurted, once you were out of earshot.

“It’s fine,” he replied stiffly, his gaze trained decidedly to your right.

Somewhere in the back of your mind you registered that even though it was just the two of you, his voice retained its icy, detached quality, all the tender familiarity gone.

“No, it’s not. I should have told you sooner. I-I wanted to—believe me—but I didn’t know if I could trust you. You were—you’ve been worried that I might turn you or the kid in, haven’t you? I was worried that you’d do the same to me if you found out. The longer I spent with you, the more I felt like you wouldn’t, but I had to be completely, totally sure. I couldn’t take the risk. You can understand that, right?”

He said nothing.

“Look—I really want to be able to trust you. I want you to be able to trust me. I just didn’t know where to start. It’s not easy for people like us to trust blindly, you know?” You hated that your voice sounded almost pleading.

Still, he said nothing, a blank beskar wall. The comfortable warmth that had developed—slowly, painstakingly—between you two over the past weeks had dissolved in an instant.

“Mando. Talk to me, please.” You reached out for his arm, but he stepped back. He still wouldn’t meet your gaze.

“Not now. Not here.”

“But—”

Your heart sank when he turned abruptly and walked back to the others.

You watched as he grabbed Fennec’s arm roughly, hauling her to her feet, and you trailed behind as he lead your party back down to the foot of the cliff. When you reached the bottom, Mando threw Fennec to the ground.

“Uh oh, looks like two of us have to walk,” Fennec taunted, eyeing the lone bike.

Mando jerked his head, motioning you and Toro to follow him.

“Alright, so what is the plan?” Toro asked Mando.

Reluctantly, you refrained from asking him if he could contribute for once instead of letting Mando do literally all the work; instead, you turned to Mando and supplied, “That dewback isn’t far.”

Mando didn’t look at you. To Toro, he said, “I need you to go find it.”

“And leave you here with my bounty and my ride?” Toro asked incredulously. “Yeah, I don’t think so, Mando. I’ll only go if she comes with me, so I have a guarantee that you won’t leave.” Toro gestured toward you.

You and Mando spoke at the same time: “No.”

“Either she comes, or I don’t go.” Toro was obviously pleased with himself for thinking of this plan, a smirk painted on his face.

You shot him a scathing look before turning to Mando to offer, “I’ll go get it alone.”

You’d love to put some distance between you and Toro, between you and Fennec, and honestly even between you and Mando at the moment.

“Suit yourself,” shrugged Toro. “Less work for me.”

You ignored Toro. “I remember vaguely where it was.” You pointed.

Mando pressed a button on the side of his helmet and scanned the horizon, stopping vaguely where you’d pointed. Finally, he trained his visor on you. He looked from you to Toro to where Fennec was seated and to you again, deliberating. You could tell he didn’t want you to go alone, but he also didn’t want to leave you here with Toro and Fennec. “We’ll go together.”

You nodded, knowing you were in no position to complain. Now that your secret was out, it was evident that both Toro and Fennec would capitalize on your value at the first chance. And, even now, when your dishonesty had been revealed to him, Mando still felt compelled to protect you, his generous heart winning out over whatever malice he felt toward you.

A small part of you resented him for that; it didn’t rub you the right way that he didn’t think you could take care of yourself. A larger part of you knew it was exactly why you liked him so much.

It would be convenient if he were a selfish ass. You could convince yourself you didn’t owe him anything, that you’d done nothing wrong. But no.

This is why it’s easier to be alone.

You felt both angry and guilty, an awful combination that manifested in the urge to hit something—a deep yearning to break Toro’s nose flashed through your mind when you caught the smug expression on his face as he looked from you to Mando. He was enjoying the palpable tension that had materialized between you a little too much.

“Watch her,” Mando reminded Toro, gesturing to Fennec. “And don’t let her get near the bike. She’s no good to us dead.”

Without a look or a word to you, he turned and started toward the dewback.

***

You walked in awkward silence, knowing you’d have to be the one to break it, but you delayed the inevitable, admiring the array of stars spread out above you. Mando stomped up and down the swells of sand, staying several paces ahead.

You meandered your way through a storm conflicting emotions: anger at yourself for getting into this situation (rightful), anger at Mando for being infuriatingly honorable (misplaced), guilt that you’d hurt Mando (well-founded), fear about your safety (appropriate), fear that Mando was about to break your heart a little bit (honest), irritation that you were trekking through a damn desert and there was an aggressive amount of sand in your boots (fair but trivial)... and a myriad of others that were too nuanced to unpack.

After deliberating for a long time, you decided to take an offensive position and offer to leave preemptively to save Mando the trouble (and to save yourself from having to hear that from him). You steeled yourself with a deep breath and interrupted the oppressive quietude of the night, jogging for a moment to catch up with him.

“We can go our separate ways when we get back to Mos Eisley. I know I’m too much of a liability to keep around, especially with the kid.”

He turned his head to look at you, the night sky reflected in his visor.

“I have enough credits to get off world some other way.”

“If that’s what you want.”

It killed you a little just how much it wasn’t what you wanted. You were supposed to be totally independent—you’d chosen this life when you joined the Rebel Alliance, knowing that if by some miracle you managed to survive, you’d be hunted for years. The call for your blood wouldn’t—and didn’t—end with the Battle of Endor, especially when Imperial remnants remained strong. And years ago, condemning yourself to this life for a just cause had seemed brave and romantic. Now, here you were, desperate to build a connection with someone else, despite the risk. And you were starting to think that truly being brave would mean accepting that risk.

At what point is it worth giving up ease for happiness, for something more?

You gathered up what nerve you could muster and took a leap.

“It’s not what I want, but I know you feel betrayed. I really am sorry I didn’t tell you—I was planning to, but I was scared. Scared that you’d take advantage of that... scared that you’d take back your offer to stick together. And the longer I waited, the harder it got to come clean.”

“I understand.”

The frostiness of his voice had given way to something a shade softer, but it still hadn’t returned to its former warmth.

You nodded.

As it became clear that he wasn’t going to say anything else, the disappointment started to settle in, trickling into the hollow of your chest. He understood, but it evidently didn’t change the fact that the fragile trust that had evolved between you was shattered.

Well, fuck.

You suppressed the wave of emotions that threatened to overtake you, focusing instead on making a new plan for yourself. There would be time to work through the feelings later, alone. Your thoughts wandered to where you might go next, running through a mental list of options. Nothing sounded appealing.

None of the places that came to mind would be stocked with a shiny, withholding Mandalorian and an ancient green toddler.

You walked for another twenty minutes before Mando spoke again.

“I want to trust you too.”

You stopped. “What?”

He halted too, turning to face you. The dark sky painted his beskar deep shades of liquid indigo, speckled with pinpricks of starlight, that moved as he shifted his weight from one leg to the other. “I wish you... uh... had felt safe enough to tell me that, but I understand why you didn’t.”

You knitted your eyebrows together. “Wait. You’re not mad?”

“I haven’t given you any reason to be open with me. And I guessed you were running from something.”

“Oh.”

“The Empire part caught me off guard—but I knew there was something.”

Of course he’d figured it out...that seemed so obvious now. He’d be able to spot that from a mile away. Plus, he knew you. You spent the last month or so learning his tells and quirks, but you hadn’t stopped to think that he was doing the same with you.

He continued: “But the kid and I are also wanted by the Empire. We’d have the same problem even if you weren’t here.”

“True...” You were struggling to recover from the whiplash.

“What are you wanted for?”

“I was an Intelligence Officer in the Alliance.” It had been years since you’d shared this information with anyone, but the words fell from your lips as naturally as if you said them every day, like you’d been ready to tell him all along and your mouth had finally caught up with your heart.

“Yeah, that makes more sense,” he said. “Explains a lot of your skills.”

You scoffed. “Fair.”

Mando cleared his throat and hooked his thumbs in his belt. “But... it’s...uh, nice to not always be alone.” He punctuated the end of his sentence with a shrug, a little embarrassed.

Relief washed over you.

You smiled. “For me too.”

“Good,” he agreed, nodding decisively.

“Shit, you really let me think you were furious,” you laughed, feeling infinitely lighter but still trying to wrap your mind around this abrupt turn.

“Sorry,” he apologized, “I was... trying to figure some things out.”

You shook your head in exasperation and started walking again, but you froze when he said your real name. You’d known your name would sound good in his voice—everything did—but the way it rumbled and rasped through the modulator was borderline sinful, agonizingly personal.

File that away for later.

You looked back at him, and he cocked his head: “So you’ll stay?”

“Yeah, I’ll stay,” you agreed, a broad grin on your face.

You both started walking again, and suddenly, trudging through the sandy desert in the middle of the night didn’t seem so bad. The dewback came back into view as you crested another sand dune.

Mando looked over at you. “Din,” he offered. “My name is Din.”

You glanced up at him, surprised. “Din,” you repeated back to him, feeling it out.

Despite the contradictory definition of the word, it suited him. He was the opposite of a cacophony, a man of few words—though to be fair, he did often cause a commotion. But as a name... Din was short, to the point. It evoked a lot of feeling for just three letters, and that felt right.

“I know your real name now. I thought it was only fair that you know mine too, but only use it when it’s just me and you and the kid,” he explained.

Your throat was unexpectedly tight.

You reached over to squeeze his arm at the elbow, where there was a gap in the beskar. He didn’t pull away.

“Thanks,” you answered, looking up into his visor.

You hoped he understood that you were thanking him for more than just his name—for his understanding, for his trust, for his protection, for his vulnerability. You couldn’t say that all out loud at the moment, but you hoped he knew.

He dipped his helmet in acknowledgement, and you dropped your hand.

When you finally reached the dewback, Din approached slowly, speaking to it in a calm, lilting voice. It warmed to him slowly, and he grabbed the reins.

He hauled himself up onto its back and then extended a hand down to you. You took it, and he pulled you up easily to sit behind him. You wrapped your arms around his middle.

“Is this okay?” You weren’t really sure why you asked this time. Things had shifted between the two of you, so you were compelled to check that the casual contact was still welcome.

He cleared his throat: “Yeah, fine,” he confirmed.

It had been a long time since you’d been physically affectionate with anyone, besides the occasional casual, short-lived tryst. It was nice to wrap your arms around someone familiar and comfortable, someone who knew you.

The dewback started forward. Din directed it back toward the cliffs with the reins in his fist. It wasn’t a huge distance, but the dewback was a slow means of transportation.

You had little idea what all this meant for your daily reality with Din. You had both shared that you wanted companionship, but that didn’t necessarily mean he was interested in anything more than that. However, for you at least, this was undeniably no longer a superficial interest that you harbored; you had real affection for him. And it seemed like he maybe was starting to feel same way about you? Or maybe he was just getting comfortable with having companionship? The man was starved for human interaction, so it was hard to know if he was warming up to you or warming up to companionship in general.

One step at a time.

Time slipped by as the dewback lumbered on. You rested your cheek against the scratchy fabric of his cape and closed your eyes. The rhythmic movement, the darkness, and comfort of the position lulled you into a light sleep.

You weren’t sure how long you’d been asleep when Din woke you, squeezing your now limp arm that was resting on his thigh above his beskar plate.

“Alive back there?” he asked in a low voice.

Leaned against him, still groggy with sleep, you felt the question rumble through his chest.

You sat up straight, pulling your arms back to your sides. “Shit, sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

He chuckled. “It’s fine. We’re close.”

The two suns had risen, bathing the landscape in the golden glow of early morning. You looked around and saw that you were a short distance from where you’d left Toro and Fennec. You couldn’t see them yet, but you figured they were hidden behind one of the many large boulders strewn across the landscape.

As you drew nearer, though, you could tell something was wrong. Only one figure came into view—and it was crumpled on the ground. Din registered this as well: his shoulders stiffened, and he pulled the reins tight to halt the dewback’s slow advance.

It was Fennec’s body on the ground. Toro was nowhere to be seen.

“Fuck,” you breathed.

“You were right about him,” said Din. “Stay here.”

Din dismounted and approached Fennec’s body. She looked dead, but he crouched to check. He tried to find a pulse, and after a moment, he stood back up and shook his head.

As Din walked back toward you, the realization dawned on you both at the same time.

“He didn’t—”

“The kid—”

“She must have—”

“We have to—”

Din hurried back onto the dewback and directed it toward Mos Eisley, doing his best to make the lumbering creature pick up its pace. It didn’t help much.

The ride back was interminable. You definitely didn’t fall asleep this time, adrenaline keeping you on edge as the hours passed. Both you and Din were incredibly tense, speaking very little, thinking only of the child.

***

Night had fallen again by the time you reached Mos Eisley. The speeder bike that Toro had been riding was parked outside Peli’s. Fury and fear spidered through your veins at the thought of him with the kid.

Din jumped off the side of the dewback and looked up at you expectantly, his arms outstretched. You maneuvered your leg over the side and slid down a bit until his hands gripped your hips, and he lowered you until your feet hit the sand. You could have easily jumped down on your own. He knew that. You knew that. You’d let him help you anyways.

You paused outside the bay to draw your blasters.

“Here,” Din offered you the flash charge.

You slipped it into your jacket sleeve, where it stayed tight against your wrist. Together, you crept through the door and down the stairway that opened up to where the Razor Crest was parked. It was eerily quiet.

You scanned the space, jumping slightly when one of Peli’s pit droids scurried past.

“Took you guys long enough.”

Toro walked slowly down the open ramp of the Crest, the barrel of the blaster in his hand pressed to Peli’s back. The child was held in his other arm.

“Looks like I’m calling the shots now. Huh?” he sneered.

The urge to hit him flared up so acutely that you clenched your fists. You hissed at him: “Don’t you da—”

“Drop your blasters and raise ‘em,” he ordered, cutting you off.

You and Din exchanged a look before throwing your blasters to the ground. In a subtle movement, you shifted the charge from your sleeve to your fist as you placed your hands behind your head.

“Cuff ‘em,” commanded Toro, nudging Peli forward and throwing two sets of cuffs to the ground.

She moved toward Din.

“No, start with her,” Toro drawled, jutting his chin toward you. “To think I almost cut Mando out of this deal,” he laughed. “I would have gotten you and Fennec, but this is so much better. I get to collect the bounty on you and this target here that Mando helped escape,” he pointed his gun at the baby and all your muscles tensed in protective rage, “...and I get to turn in the legendary Mandalorian himself—a Guild traitor.”

Peli walked behind you. You grasped the charge in your fist so that she would be able to see the top of it. You heard her quiet, sharp intake of breath.

“Fennec was right,” Toro continued smugly. “Bringing you three in won’t just make me a member of the Guild—it’ll make me legendary. Three high-value targets on my first try. Wow, I should really thank you guys.”

Peli was fumbling with the cuffs behind you, taking longer than necessary on purpose.

You hoped she was ready to duck because you’d heard enough of Toro’s self-congratulatory monologue. You released the charge.

In the split second of blinding light, you, Din, and Peli sprinted in opposite directions, taking cover. Toro groaned and attempted to cover his eyes, shooting blindly at the empty space where you had been standing.

Din took Toro out in one shot.

You were closest to where he fell, so you charged forward with your blaster trained on his body. The baby wiggled out of Toro’s arms and ran toward you. His big eyes were watery and his arms stretched toward you, his fingers making little grabby motions. He chittered nervously as you scooped him up with your free arm, and he buried his head in your shoulder.

You kicked Toro’s blaster away from his body as Din approached to make sure he was dead. After he checked his pulse, Din tugged the pouch of credits from Toro’s belt and tossed it to Peli. “Here,” he said.

With a gasp, she caught it and emptied the pouch in her hands. Credits tumbled out, a few falling to the ground.

“That cover us?” Din asked.

Peli looked shocked, scrambling to pick them all up. “Yeah... uh, yes. This is gonna cover you.” It was clearly far more than she was expecting.

You passed the child over to Din, and he looked down at the baby, tilting his helmet in...what? Affection? Relief? This was a head tilt you hadn’t defined yet.

Peli approached him and looked down at the child. “You take care of him, you hear?”

Din nodded.

“Thank you for watching him,” you said to Peli, genuinely grateful that she had turned out to be trustworthy.

“Besides getting held at gunpoint... I guess it wasn’t too bad,” she replied, smiling down at the baby. She’d clearly grown fond of him, and you couldn’t blame her. After a moment, Peli mumbled a goodbye and walked away, eagerly counting the credits in her hands, her pit droids skittering after her.

You stood there, finger caught between three tiny green ones, as the kid babbled and cooed up at you. When you looked up, Din’s helmet was trained on your face.

He tipped his head toward the open ramp of the Crest in a wordless invitation.

You smiled at him, a comforting warmth settling in your chest, and he followed you into the hull.

***

Chapter 7

#tempered glass #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction #my writing #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x female reader #the mandalorian x female reader #din djarin x f!reader #the mandalorian x f!reader #reader insert #mandalorian reader insert #din djarin reader insert

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sohin-ace · 3 years

Text

Dio - Stolen Dance

For immersion, listen to the Dark Waltz Music - Vampire masquerade collection on youtube. Oh boy

Especially 'Tonight Ve' Dance' that shit hits the spot for this fanfic. Trust me.

"Would you honor me with a dance, Y/N?"

'Hell no', was what you craved to answer to this charming yet cruel man. Dancing with him meant selling your very soul. You were about to dance with the Devil.

But you had no choice.

You tried to run away from him, from his toxicity, from his poison, but he always managed to get you back and trap you in his web. And now he offered his warm, destructive hand for a dance, just a single dance with him.

And you had no choice.

You could not refuse. You had no right to. It was oh-so reluctantly that you had put your trembling, cold hand over his possessive one. He pulled you towards him as the music played in the luxurious ballroom.

He laid his large hand around your corseted waist, pulling you to him and bringing your bodies a little too close for your own comfort. Way too close for a gentleman to conventionally be from a lady.

But he didn't seem to care one bit as your heart pounded heavily in your chest. He could probably feel it from this proximity. And he most definitely drowned himself in it.

You hesitantly, and regrettably put one hand over his broad shoulder in what you could only call a ghostly touch. You barely wanted to touch him and potentially show him a form of validation from his wrongdoings.

He engulfed your other hand in his own, relishing in the adorable yet terrifying size difference. If he wanted, he could just close his entire hand on yours and claim it as his. Just how he could easily close the distance between you and claim you just the same.

People were around. The ladies and gentlemen of the World. High class society, partying mondanely through the night. Couples dancing, businessmen meeting, Madames chatting.

Oh but in these decorated mansions, the families yearned to see newfound lovers, for what a sight it was.

Some were watching you in earnest and maybe even admiration, glad to see how the charming, handsome Dio Brando of the Joestar Estate was gracefully swaying in rhythm with the gentle, beautiful Y/N L/N, daughter of the Lord L/N.

Your face felt warm, burning almost and it was not a comfortable feeling. Maybe it was the close proximity between him and you, maybe it was all the unnecessary attention you were receiving, putting pressure and forcing shyness upon you.

Maybe it was the rising anxiety that built viciously within you and made yout heart pump violently in your chest, or maybe it was the pure hatred you felt towards the blonde man holding you captive within this very dance.

It didn't matter what it was, it felt horrible, suffocating. You could barely breathe, the room was spinning.

You were always taught to look at your partner in the eyes when dancing, but now your partner wasn't just anyone. It was Dio Brando. There was no way you could look up at his soul-piercing amber, no, crimson red eyes. Like gems of blood.

If you looked at them, if you even glanced at them...

"You are quite tense, dear." He released your hand briefly to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, letting cool air hitting your now more exposed cheek and temple. "Relax and follow my lead."

You wanted to scoff at his words. How could you relax when your only wish at the moment was to run away from him? Your family was nowhere to be seen, Jonathan was nowhere to be seen. No one was there and no one would help you.

"You stole this dance, Dio," You growled quietly, not wanting to gather even more attention to yourself. "But it will be the last thing that you'll steal from me. Heed my words."

You finally met his eyes to grace him with a glare and he only looked down on you with mockery and a hint of fondness. As if your anger was endearing to him. He hummed in amusement.

"Hmmm...? Do I take it that everything else will be graciously given to me...?"

Before you could even gasp at his scandalous assumptions, you missed a step and fell forward, right against his solid chest. He of course didn't waste a second in wrapping his strong arms around your small form.

You could hear the other guests whispering and chuckling, probably drinking in the sight and preaching how cute you both were. The beautiful Y/N L/N clumsily falling into the arms of the very handsome Dio Brando.

Like a princess and her prince, right from a romance story. It was really fresh to witness and people just couldn't wait to see you both engaged, you looked so perfect together. After all, in this mondane society, it was all about looks.

If only they knew the truth.

You tried to push yourself off of him as you laid your palms flat on his chest, but he held you there firmly. A deep chuckle rumbled in his chest and the blonde leaned down to whisper in your ear.

"Let us go somewhere more private darling. I am tired of those curious eyes."

You felt like you were about to faint and really wanted to get out of that busy room, but surely not with Dio. As you didn't have much of a say in this, you let him guide you away, to one of the many chambers in the mansion.

He opened the door wide for you and you entered the empty, cold room bathing in darkness, not sparing him a single glance and went straight ahead to the large windows that lead to a beautifully decorated balcony.

You stayed inside though, as Dio closed the door behind him and went on his way to light a gas lamp that was laid on a night stand.

You gently pushed the silky curtains aside to glance at the moon outside. You stared at her magnificent silver light, completely forgetting where you were and that Dio was still in this very room.

You sighed, comforted by the moonlight. The moon was full on this cold night, it was the end of the year and it felt like the nocturnal satellite decided to show off all of her magic tonight.

Sometimes, you envied those legendary creatures who lived solely by the moonlight. Fantastical beings who could see the moon through all her phases and for as long as they lived. Werewolves, Vampires...

"...Beautiful, isn't it?"

You gasped, startled by his sudden deep voice so close to your ear. You swiftly turned around and glared at him, offended that his appearance tore you off your pleasant rêverie.

"Oh, please do continue. The moon reflects so deliciously on your skin, it is beyond mezmerizing."

"Yo-... you're losing yourself again, Dio!" You tried to sound strong and composed, but you couldn't help the slight whimper from escaping your throat.

"Maybe..." He lifted his large arm next to your head to fully open the curtain behind you, the sudden position flustering you as you felt trapped yet again.

You looked down as you contemplated fleeing. How many attempts was it now? You stopped counting after the 20th, but you wanted to flee again.

Not bearing the sight of his broad chest in front of you, you turned slightly back to the window and side-glanced at the beautiful garden.

There was a large maze in there. The thought of maybe trying to lose Dio there was very appealing. It turned your once melancholic and lonely expression into a softer, more relaxed one.

The moonlit maze alone filling your heart with an ounce of hope, the ghost of a smile reached your lips and eyes.

"What a sweet expression you are sporting, my love." The blond devil put his large hand on your cheek and turned your head to face him as he purred. "Although I delect myself more from your despaired expression."

Disgusting. This man was disgusting. You put a hand over his large wrist as a sign to tell him to let go of you, which he patently ignored.

He leaned forward, hovering dangerously over your face as he lifted your chin up, a soft smirk stretching his lips.

"Now tell me... what could my dove possibly be thinking about to make her look so beautifully blithe?"

You looked downwards to the red brooch on his tie, the ornament suddenly more distracting than his dominating burning gaze on you.

"I was thinking of getting away from you. It gets me going." You spoke the unfiltered truth with bitter sugar dripping from your voice.

The man before you froze upon hearing those words. Were you challenging him? Him?! The Dio Brando?

You drove him so crazy. Oh you drove him to such unfathomable frustration. His blood was boiling and pumping ferociously in his veins.

His entire body cringed, his fists balling tightly. He ground his teeth as his eyes widened in pure rage. Or was it rage? No it was deeper, more twisted than that.

It was lust.

He needed to gather all his self-control to prevent himself from breaking something or rather someone right this instant.

Yes... He could break you. Oh and it would be so easy and so satisfying, too. Nothing could quench his thirst more than destroying every inch of you at that moment.

You were such a nasty pest, you were so terribly problematic, no wonder he was so infatuated with you. So obssessed with you.

You were bad, maybe as bad as him. You pushed on all his buttons like no one ever did and yet, you played the cute little perfect girl in front of everyone else.

You made him so insane, so mad. He wanted you all to himself. He yearned for you to get your revenge on him, to be infuriated with him. He craved you right here, right now. He loved that you hated him.

Swiftly, he pressed his weight against you and pushed your body flush against the window as you gasped in surprise, barely able to even react at the forceful contact.

He was quick to catch your wrist and pin it next to your head as you tried desperately to push him away, your other hand uselessly resting on his much stronger arm.

You tried to squirm away, but his body meddled with yours in an emprisonning cage. You couldn't hide your panicked pants anymore.

"You damn woman..." He breathed in a shaky hiss right next to your heating ear, his tone way darker now and his eyes half-lidded. "Do you even realize what you are doing to me?" He spat with venom but also with dripping excitement. "You are in deep trouble, darling."

He nuzzled his face in your exposed neck, drenching himself in your sweet scent and you shuddered, his hot breath on your skin making the hair at the back of your neck stand.

Your heart hammered alarmingly inside your chest as his malicious hold triggered your Fight or Flight response. This was bad. Real bad. You struggled against his grip, writhing and pushing him.

But struggling against him was futile, useless. So useless, useless, useless...

"I hate you, Dio Brando. There's not a single piece of you that is remotely redeemable!" You growled in his ears through exhausted pants. "Hear me when I say this, I despise every inch of your disgraceful being, Dio-ugh...! I hate you with all my might...!!"

"Yes!" He grunted hungrily as he put his free hand around your hips, leaving no space between your body and his, feeling all of yourself against him. "That's it, that's what I want to hear! One more time... Scream it."

"You disgusting bastard... You have no shame..." You squeezed your eyes shut, you refused to cry. Never for him. He didn't deserve it.

"Y/N, Y/N, Y/N... Please." He was crazed, Dio lost himself, yet again. "Sweet Y/N, let me make you mine... Be mine... I know you want this..."

Just like that, the man above you craddled your body like his most prized possession, teasing the pulsing point of your neck with his lips, tongue and teeth. He clutched your hips and wrist in a bruising grip and you knew there was nothing you could do.

"I'm going to ravish you, destroy you..."

And so he did.

#jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo #jjba #writing #jojo no kimyou na bouken #dio #dio brando #dio x reader #dio brando x reader #jojo part 1 #part 1 #phantom blood #x reader #reader insert #dubcon/noncon

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artificialdaydreamer · 3 years

Text

How to Say "I Love You"

Emotions are hard to understand, conveying how one feels to the person they love is even harder.

Jon had never been good at expressing his emotions. Growing up he mostly absorbed their descriptions from books, how a character was excited for something to happen, how another was jealous of someone else. The feeling he found hardest to comprehend was love. How was it possible to be so completely devoted to another person that it shifted the way you felt about everything? He loved his parents, even now that they were gone. He loved his grandmother, but he got the feeling that the type of love written about in books was different from the emotions he was actually experiencing.

When he started dating Georgie, something he’d entirely misinterpreted when it had first happened, Jon wasn’t sure what the emotions he felt were. Was the yearning to be close to her love? The happiness to have someone he could talk with about inconsequential things? Then again, if what he felt wasn’t love, then what was? Eventually Georgie came to him, told him that while she liked Jon as a friend she didn’t think their relationship was working out. They’d broken up without much fanfare and going from dating to friends didn’t really change how they interacted with each other.

As he watched Martin sleep, his coppery curls catching the light of the rising sun, his face close enough to Jon’s that it was possible to count every freckle, Jon thought he might finally have an answer. He loved Martin, that was the only explanation for why his heart clenched whenever Martin smiled, why his cheeks flushed and his palms started to sweat from the smallest things. This was what people talked about in those books, what they yearned for with such intensity, wasn’t it?

When had he started feeling like this? When had Jon’s feelings for Martin turned to love? Was it when he’d gone into the Lonely? When Martin had started working for Peter Lukas and Jon was no longer able to see him? Earlier? How long had he loved Martin and just not realized it?

Jon lay there, thinking back to their interactions over the years. Next to him Martin started to stir, blue eyes blinking open slowly. “Morning.” Martin said with a smile.

“Good morning.” Jon tried to keep his voice from shaking as his heart pounded in time with his thoughts. I love you, I love you, I love you.

From then on it was hard to not feel overwhelmed by the love, like a wave crashing over him. Jon would be in the middle of a sentence before getting distracted by Martin, how beautiful he was, his laugh. I love you, I love you, I love you. How did people deal with these emotions?

He started to use actions instead of the words he could not say. Making sure they had enough of Martin’s favorite tea in the safehouse. I love you, I love you, I love you. Offering to cook breakfast so Martin could stay in bed a bit longer. I love you, I love you, I love you. Letting his fingers linger a bit longer than was necessary whenever they touched. I love you, I love you, I love you.

They’d decided to take a walk into town, grab some groceries, and stretch their legs, passing the field full of cows Martin stopped and cooed over them. He’d gotten out his phone to take pictures and the moment was so... normal compared to everything they’d been through that Jon started chuckling.

“What’s so funny?” Martin had asked, tearing his eyes from the cows to look at Jon in confusion.

“Nothing,” Jon took a breath, trying to burn this moment into his memory. “I just love you so much.”

There was a moment of silence where Martin just stared at him, his freckled face looking even redder thanks to the glow of the setting sun. “Wait... What?”

For a heartbeat Jon wondered if he’d said the wrong thing, although he hadn’t even meant to say it at all. He couldn’t help but question if Martin’s confession of “I really loved you” meant that those feelings were gone. Had he been the only one who worried about just what the emotions flooding through his veins meant? Was he just imagining that Martin felt the same way?

“I- I’m sorry... I didn’t mean-” Jon was floundering now, scrambling for something to say to make the situation right again. “If you don’t- I’m sorry.”

“You... Do you mean that?” Martin’s cheeks were practically scarlet, his phone now dangling precariously in one hand.

“I... Yes?” Despite the fact Jon had already come to terms with his feelings, had already said the words aloud, it felt like an entirely different thing to answer when his thoughts were in such turmoil. He didn’t know how to respond in a way that wouldn’t sound selfish, asking for affection he knew in his heart he didn’t deserve. Even if Martin did still like him there wasn’t anything that Jon could do to atone for the thing’s he had said, the things he had done, the person he’d been to have treated Martin so terribly. It was ironic, that at the time he’d swatted away such affection yet now he craved it as though he were an addict suffering from withdrawal. As though he’d been living underground and now that he’d seen sunlight he couldn’t get enough.

The expression on Martin’s face was hard to understand. Was it sadness? Pity? The books Jon had read as a child had talked about brows furrowing, lips being bitten, eyes not being met, but those individual descriptions could apply to so many emotions and Jon didn’t know what it was Martin might be feeling. It was all Jon could do to not scrunch his eyes up as Martin took a tentative step closer, then another, bridging the gap between them and effectively forcing all the air from Jon’s lungs. Then he’d swept Jon up in his arms, Jon’s face nestling into the crook of his neck. It was so warm and comfortable... It felt like Jon belonged there.

“S-sorry...” Martin gasped as they broke apart, his face still red as he seemed to examine Jon for some sort of reaction. “I should have asked first, but I- Are you okay?”

In all honesty Jon was not okay. His brain was attempting to sort out just what he was feeling, synapses firing and crossing out things like anger and disgust with only his limited knowledge of emotions to go off of. Again, the words and feeling threatened to overwhelm him with the constant pounding of I love you, I love you, I love you.

“Jon?” Martin waved a hand in front of his face and it was a real effort for Jon to pull himself out of his thoughts enough to meet Martin’s gaze. “Did I do something wrong?”

“N-no... I just... I wasn’t expecting- I didn’t know if-”

“Wait... Jon, did you not think I felt the same?” Martin’s eyes were wide, reflecting the setting sun.

“I, I’m not sure.” He’d spent so much time absorbed in his own thoughts that he hadn’t actually thought of what might happen if he confessed. He hadn’t even thought about confessing. Jon realized that he’d somehow become content with just loving Martin and not telling him. He’d convinced himself that Martin was better off without him, and that there wasn’t a point in confessing.

“Jon, I’ve loved you for the past two years.” Martin’s voice was soft, his cheeks still flushed as he stared at Jon.

“What?” Jon squawked, taking a step back in surprise. Martin reached out and grabbed Jon’s hand in his own, it was so warm, so comforting.

“Well, not exactly two years...” Martin ran his free hand through his coppery curls. “Since the thing with Prentiss, when you let me stay in the Archives...”

Jon remembered those long nights they’d spent together after Martin had started living in the document storage room. At first Jon had found Martin’s presence kind of annoying, it was impossible to get some time by himself. Then he’d realized what was going on, although he couldn’t explain just how he’d known.

Martin didn’t want to be alone.

While he’d admitted during his statement that boredom had been the thing that had been the hardest to deal with, Jon suspected loneliness had also plagued him. Cut off from everyone, no internet, no phone, and it wasn’t like he could talk to Jane Prentiss. It certainly explained why Martin felt the need to check on Jon every half hour.

Once he’d realized why Martin was acting like a concerned parent he made an effort to take more breaks so they could talk. At first it had been hard to find topics for discussion, as Jon was as good with small talk as he was with emotions, but bringing up the Admiral had certainly broken the ice. After that Jon found it easier to connect with Martin, it was still somewhat awkward, but he certainly made an effort. Jon had also ended up staying in the Archives overnight a handful of times as well, partially because he had work to do and partially to keep Martin company.

It had been those nights where they’d started to connect, going out to eat so they could both eat a decent meal, talking about random things to pass the time while they struggled to fall asleep. Jon had started to get a sense of who Martin was, underneath the jumpers and tea. He was earnest and always tried his best to do whatever task Jon set for him, no matter how absurd it was. He also had a mischievous side to him and had no problem joining Tim in his pranks, although Martin was much better at keeping the pranks a secret.

It felt strange, getting to know a person through whispered conversations, over tea breaks, or at a cafe. Jon was never good with friendships, never good at telling what people wanted from him, so he’d ended up pushing everyone away. After his encounter with Mr. Spider he only became more withdrawn, survivor’s guilt eating him up inside. Martin wasn’t like the others though. Despite the fact that Jon was horrible at communicating, horrible at deciphering what emotions anyone might be feeling at any given time, Martin didn’t seem to care. He seemed to be genuinely happy to spend time with Jon, which was just as foreign a concept.

Now, despite everything that had happened in the past few years, Martin had stayed with him. An anchor in the churning waves that threatened to wash him away from everything he knew and cared about. Jon loved him for that. “I think that’s when I started to fall for you too. I didn’t- I didn’t realize at the time...”

“Oh, I definitely didn’t realize either.” Martin’s cheeks were slightly less flushed than they had been. “I think I realized it when- this is going to sound crazy...”

“You realized it when, Martin?” Jon couldn’t help but ask, smiling at the flustered look on Martin’s face.

“It... It was when I told you about lying on my CV.” Martin sighed, not daring to meet Jon’s gaze. “You, you were so mad at first but after I told you... You just started laughing and I remember looking at you and thinking ‘really? This is the man I fell in love with?’ Thankfully Tim... Tim was too distracted by everything else going on to pay attention to my hopeless crush.”

“Not so hopeless.” Jon squeezed Martin’s hand. “I knew how much I cared about you when I woke up in the hospital after my coma. Georgie was there, and I remember being sad because it was you I wanted to see.” It felt strange to say the words aloud, as though he was only understanding what had happened. He’d been thinking about it so much over the past few weeks, since he’d realized that he loved Martin, but it took saying the words aloud for him to notice. “It was funny, the months that followed, I thought it was a fitting punishment for how I’d treated you. Wanting to be close to someone and yet unable to do so. I knew I loved you a few days after we arrived here.”

“Is that why you were acting so weird?”

“Look, I... I’m not the best with emotions. I don’t get them, I don’t understand how I feel half the time. With other people it’s even harder, trying to piece together how they’re feeling based on their expression or the tone of their voice...” Since he was still holding Martin’s hand Jon couldn’t cross his arms defensively over his chest, so he settled for putting his free hand in his pocket. “This is the first time I’ve ever... I’ve ever felt something so intensely. I didn’t know what to do, how to act, now that I knew I loved you.”

“I get it, emotions are hard. Can I help?” Martin asked, his lips quirked in a small smile.

“Sure? I guess so?”

“How did you feel when I told you that I loved you?”

Jon had to think about it, he’d been so overwhelmed by the tidal wave of emotions that he wasn’t sure what any of them had been. “I was... I think I was happy.”

“You think?”

“I was happy, alright?” Jon huffed. “I was also shocked, and confused... Mostly I was happy, because I loved you so much.”

“Alright, that’s good to know.” Martin took a step closer, still smiling. “How would you feel if I kissed you?”

The answer came easier this time. “Happy. I’d feel happy.”

“May I kiss you?”

“Absolutely.” Jon didn’t know what to expect from Martin kissing him. He’d kissed Georgie and while it hadn’t been unpleasant he hadn’t gotten anything from the experience. This time however, Jon could taste the remnants of whatever chapstick Martin had used, strawberry maybe? He felt how warm Martin’s lips were, despite the cold day, their heat bleeding into him. He wrapped his arms around Martin and pulled them closer, trying to memorize everything as it happened. Martin’s scent, the wool of his jumper, how fast both their hearts were beating. In his head Jon was panicking. He didn’t know what to do, or if what he was doing was the right thing to do. He attempted to understand what the emotions he felt were: happiness... amazement... and love. So much love. Was love even an emotion? He didn’t know, but it certainly overwhelmed his senses.

When they broke apart Martin was smiling and, more surprisingly, Jon was smiling back. “Let’s take it one day at a time, alright? We can work out what you might be feeling together.”

“I- I’d like that.”

I love you, I love you, I love you.

The words still rattled around in his mind, but for once they didn’t worry him. Jon might not understand love, or emotions, or why the characters in his books had behaved a certain way, but it didn’t matter. Martin loved him back, and that was more than enough for him.

I've been sitting on this fic for a year due to some personal issues, on a related note this is not betaed, I apologize for any mistakes there might be

#tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jonmartin #jmart #tma fic #my fic

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heloisedaphnebrightmore · 3 years

Text

Honest mistake [Ron Weasley x Reader]

Title: Honest mistake Pairing: Ron Weasley x Reader Word count: 2.5k Published: 13 April 2021 Author: Heloise Daphne Brightmore Warning: Alcohol, drunk teenagers Summary: [x] Winning a quidditch game means one thing and one thing only, drunken teenagers stumbling across the corridors of Hogwarts. Ron Weasley isn’t any different, he is anything but sober by the time you catch up with the trio and for once you don’t mind drunk people. Bingo: [x] This is part of my Band–psychos 1.5k Followers Bingo Card by @band--psycho

Square filled: Drunken Confession

Harry Potter Characters Masterlist | Masterlists

Band–psychos 1.5k Followers Bingo Masterlist

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Winning a quidditch match meant one thing and one thing only. Teenagers drunkenly stumbling around the castle trying not to be caught by Filch and Mrs. Norris. It was a hard task, one that many failed to achieve. But you seemed to be on the right path as you hid in empty classrooms, behind statues and hidden passages. You were on your way to the Gryffindor common room to continue the party, you simply slipped out to help your friend going back to the Ravenclaw common room after she had decided that clumsily undressing herself on a table would be the best way to entertain the rest of the school. Although she was somewhat comical, you couldn’t let her go through with it, so there you were, trying to sneak back in.

Luckily the corridor leading to the Gryffindor tower was empty, no sign of Filch or his cat, but you still kept the noise of your shoes as faint as you could possibly manage. You quickly whispered the password to the Fat Lady, who opened the door for you, although murmuring something under her breath that you couldn’t quite catch.

“Finally, where were you?” George slurred as he threw his arm around your shoulder, his scent of alcohol immediately hitting your nostrils.

“You smell like fire-whiskey, George,” you grimaced as you removed his arm from your shoulder.

“It’s the smell of adulthood,” he shouted after you, but you didn’t even acknowledge that you heard his drunken rumbling. You looked around searching for your cousin, Angelina, who previously tried to get you as drunk as she was, unsuccessfully. Drinking wasn’t something you enjoyed, and it wasn’t because of the taste of alcohol, but because it felt like you lost control over yourself and that wasn’t something you enjoyed. You liked to be in control one way or another.

As you tried to push past the sea of people, you caught sight of Angelina, but she seemed to be rather occupied by Fred Weasley’s lips. Rolling your eyes, you turned around, searching for some better company. There was one particular ginger boy you were interested in finding, but you couldn’t see him anywhere nor did you see his friends. Hermione, Harry and Ron were glued by the hips as far as you saw and when one was gone so were the others.

Giving up on your search you flopped down on an empty armchair, not far from Fred and Angelina, who seemed to have better things to do than realise your presence. The sound of their saliva exchange seemed to bother you the longer you sat in your spot and by the time Angelina slipped into Fred’s lap, you couldn’t handle it anymore. The definition of control was something you just wanted to forget as the whole Gryffindor common room was a mess of drunkenly stumbling kids with no self-control. You couldn’t handle the sight, the noises, the crowd, you reached for the lonely bottle of fire-whiskey on the table and chugged a good shot down your throat.

Inevitably you started coughing, your body’s reaction to the unusual substance was obvious rejection, making you feel like you were about the throw up. Taking slow, deep breaths however seemed to have worked as the alcohol stayed down and after taking a second and third round, your body got used to the feeling. The room started heating up and you felt your cheeks flush, your ears burn as though someone changed the temperature in the room. But you weren’t naive, you knew it was simply the effects of the alcohol.

“Someone changed her mind about alcohol,” Angelina quipped as she finally parted from Fred. You didn’t even realise when the smooching sound has stopped, but it felt calm and somewhat pure again, regardless of all the drunk, dumb teenagers crowding the room.

“I couldn’t handle the atmosphere anymore,” you replied in a dry tone.

“Or?” she raised a questioning brow, a rather suspicious smile spread across her face.

“Or what?” you squinted with a deep frown across your brows, trying to understand her indications.

“You know, liquid courage,” she winked playfully, but her words meant nothing to you.

“I have no idea what you are on about. What would I need courage for?” You grimaced, scrunching your nose in the process.

“Obviously to ask Ron out,” she deadpanned you as if her statement was natural.

“Hold on a minute, you have a crush on my brother?” Fred quipped in with a wide grin on his face, one that didn’t indicate you were about to get out of this uncomfortable situation any time soon.

“Oh, she is head over heels for him,” Angelina laughed, slightly tilting her head back, holding onto her stomach. You didn’t find the situation quite as funny as she did, but it might have been because of the difference in the amount of alcohol you both consumed.

“So, when are you going to confess?” Fred asked with a humorous tone to his voice. Although you expected to be made fun of, it felt wrong that they found your feelings for the youngest Weasley brother comical. Watching him for years, yearning to be close to him and being swept aside to be stuck in only a friendship with him was beyond hard for you to handle and now that two people who were close to you made fun of you certainly didn’t help your unfortunate case.

“I’m glad you are enjoying the situation,” you huffed, trying to divert your attention from the couple, indicating that you didn’t find their presence interesting any longer.

“Oh, come on, we were just joking around,” Fred added upon seeing how uncomfortable he’d made you. But there was no reply, you didn’t even spare a glance at him. Fred heaved a heavy sigh and stood up, stumbling over to you and taking a seat on the arm of your chair. “Listen to me, my brother is a complete idiot for not realising your feelings, and I’m an idiot for making fun of you too, but it’s in our blood, maybe he just needs a little nudge,” he grinned proudly as if his idea was some sort of newfound solution. But in reality, you have tried to nudge the boy so many times, giving him hints, staying close to him as much as you could, but he remained blind to your feelings.

“If I nudge him anymore, I might as well push him down a hill,” you added bitterly, making Fred snort.

“I think our mother would have a say in that, but whatever you feel comfortable with,” he kept chuckling as he walked back to Angelina and captured her lips again. You never meant to be bitter about other couples, you didn’t want to be jealous, but watching them embracing each other made you feel useless for once. You stood up from the couch, securing your firm grip around the bottle of fire-whiskey as you stumbled around the room, not even trying to control your own body’s reaction to the alcohol. At that moment you just didn’t care anymore.

“Hey, we were looking for you,” you heard Hermione’s voice from across the room faintly. It took you a good few seconds to find her as you glanced around the room in anticipation, hoping the ginger boy was close by. As you caught a glimpse of Hermione’s bushy hair with Ron and Harry on each of her sides, you cut through the crowd, halting in front of the trio.

“So was I. Where were you?” You questioned as you tried to catch Ron’s eyes, but he found his shoes more interesting than your presence. You heaved a heavy sigh, one that has been an hourly occurrence around the boy, each time destroying just a little more of the hope you still harboured for the slightest of chance that you might just have a tiny chance with the boy.

“Ron got a bit too drunk,” Harry huffed in an annoyed tone.

“As if,” Ron quipped in, his cheeks crimson red, his words slurred. You found his pouting adorable, and you could barely contain the small smile threatening to grow wider.

“He confessed his undying love to me,” Harry added with a deadpan expression.

“I didn’t see that it was you,” Ron added in haste, trying to save himself from further embarrassment.

“You were looking straight into my eyes whilst you did so. So, whether you really are in love with me, or you have had way too much to drink. Your choice,” Harry raised a questioning brow, waiting for his friend to reply.

“Well, I’m certainly not in love with you,” he huffed.

“Then I guess you are drunk, what a surprise,” Harry retorted, making you giggle.

“Whatever,” Ron shrugged, heading towards an empty sofa and dropping down on it.

“Can you pay attention to him until I get some food and water for him from the kitchen?” Hermione asked with an exhausted expression and you could just imagine the amount of effort it took her not to strangle her drunk friend.

“Of course, but hurry back. He needs to just sleep it off,” you told her as she nodded and walked past you with Harry in her steps.

You walked over to the couch, looking at the boy, his limbs spread all over the cushions, his eyes closed, clearly in need of a good sleep. “Don’t worry, Hermione and Harry will be back soon and then you can go upstairs,” you tried to reassure him as you sat down beside him.

His eyes opened and effortlessly stared at you, making you feel as though you were tiny under his intense gaze. You attempted to turn away, but his blue eyes completely captured you and as much as you tried, you couldn’t get yourself to take your eyes off him. Gulping loudly, you shifted deeper into your spot, feeling as though it would be better to disappear.

“You’re fairly pretty, you know?” He asked with a lopsided grin, his confidence surprising you.

“Excuse me?” You asked, fearing you have heard him wrong.

“You’re quite pretty,” he repeated himself as he leaned closer, this time making sure you heard him well. His cheeks were slightly blushed, his freckles scattered all over his cheeks and the bridge of his nose.

“Qu—quiet? What does that even mean? Am I supposed to feel happy and take it as a compliment or were you trying to insult me?” You chuckled awkwardly, although you were rather happy both as a result of the bottle of fire-whiskey you were still holding on to and the compliment or so that you have received from Ron for the first time.

“Well, I mean— I can’t just walk up to you and confess my love for you, can I?” He snorted, laughing at himself, but you didn’t find his words funny. You were stunned, your smile disappeared and there was only one thing going through your mind. How sincere he was. “You would kill me if you realised how much I loved you,” he added, surprising you even more. Trying to control your heartbeat, you took deep breaths, but it didn’t seem to help. His words affected you both physically and emotionally. Your cheeks felt as though they were burning, your breathing was irregular, and you could physically feel your blood pulsing through your veins whilst your brain didn’t seem to process his words.

“What did you just say?” You asked, needing reassurance.

“I said you would murder me if I told you how much I loved you and I can’t risk that,” he slurred, his eyes closed once again, feeling tired from the amount of alcohol he has consumed throughout the night.

“Ronald, you just have,” you tried to reason with him, a small smile hiding in the corner of your lips, his confession making you feel content. It did run across your mind that it was the alcohol talking, but in the end, you just ignored the voices, because alcohol or not, no sane person would make such a silly mistake.

“No, I haven’t. You might have a hearing problem,” he replied cluelessly, shrugging his shoulder. You found his state rather funny, so you decided to push him.

“So, you don’t like me?” You asked, raising your brows curiously.

“Wait what?” he asked as though he finally realised something was wrong. His adam’s apple bopped firmly as he swallowed, his palms sweating in his nervous state. “I—you are my friend, of course, I like you,” he tried to save the situation.

“Then you won’t mind if I leave you here and go and dance with other people. You wouldn’t mind a bit,” you questioned with a rather proud smile.

“Erm— I’m your friend and I don’t feel well,” he cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck, trying to keep his hands occupied. “As a friend it wouldn’t be nice of you if you left me like this,” he added, nodding along to his clever thinking.

“Okay, but after you have gone to sleep, it would be perfectly fine if I danced with others, right? You wouldn’t be jealous,” you asked with an innocent smile. Ron was clearly searching for the right words, but they just didn’t come.

“If— if that makes you happy, sure, go ahead,” he nodded along awkwardly, confused about his own words. You couldn’t stop the silent giggle from leaving your lips as you leaned closer and kissed the corner of his lips.

“I like you too, Ronald,” you chuckled at his cheeks taking on an even darker shade of pink and the surprise sitting across his face.

“Hey, we are back, let’s get you up,” Harry added as he appeared in the crowd with Hermione following him behind. “Are you okay?” Harry asked, looking at his friend who still looked at you as though he had seen a ghost.

“He is just tired,” you replied instead of him with a proud smile.

“Come on,” Harry stepped closer, hooking his arm around Ron’s body, placing his arm around his own shoulder.

“I meant it,” you quickly said causing Hermione and Harry to frown, but Ron understood. A wide grin spread across his face as he tried to balance himself.

“So did I,” he chuckled and leaned closer, hinting a small kiss on your forehead. “Hopefully I won’t be dead tomorrow and we can actually sit down and talk without me feeling like a rag doll,” he laughed, and you couldn’t stop yourself from returning his expression.

“I’d certainly love that,” you offered him a sweet smile as he nodded and stumbled across the common room with Harry’s help.

“What was that about?” Hermione asked with a deep frown, for the first time feeling completely clueless.

“I guess you will just have to wait to find out,” you giggled as you headed towards the dormitory, shoving the bottle of whiskey into George’s hand. You left the loud crowd and walked up the stairs to your room, with a wide grin across your face, impatiently waiting to wake up even though you weren’t even asleep just yet.

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