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rootingforbada · 5 months

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Crimson Snow: Mistletoe and Memories ❄️

disclaimers: this story contains angst, sad, tension, literally no happy ending feels, drama and it's bada's pov. remember it's a work of fiction, none of this represents what i truly think about bada's/bebe's character or nature! it is meant for fun and entertainment purposes only. also, i'm not a native english speaker and this is my first ever fanfiction so keep that in mind and be nice please. thank you 🩵

Summary: "Old flames, city lights, and buried memories — Bada Lee, against her own wishes, returns to Incheon for Christmas. Amidst the moonlit whispers and the unyielding snowfall, she's compelled to confront a past she believed buried beneath the frost."

WC: 2.1k

"Yes, mom, i'll be there for Christmas," i muttered into the phone, my voice tinged with a hint of disdain.

"This city gives me the creeps," i ponder.

Incheon is like a patchwork of bitter memories; every street corner bears the weight of choices made and opportunities lost. This place represents a chapter of my life I struggle to bury.

Regrets, disappointments—I tried to shove those aside a while ago, or at least attempted to.

Nevertheless, i made a promise to my mother about being there for Christmas. What foolishness it is to commit to something i might not fulfill. Yet, is it too late to reconsider? Can i claim i couldn't secure a flight on time?

Idiot; no turning back now. I wonder how much longer i'll keep evading my past.

"I just wish i don't run into her there," i murmur with a slight tremor in my tone. I knew all too well whom i was talking about.

It's exactly 9 o'clock, my train departs in about 30 minutes. Unfortunately, i'll be in Incheon in a few hours.

"I can't believe you're finally coming back here! I guess i'll have to spend Christmas at your mom's house if that's the case," a sharp, loud feminine voice speaks over the phone; Lusher, a childhood friend.

Lusher has always been with me throughout our high school years and even into adulthood. Despite me moving to Busan a few years ago, we've kept in touch. She always mentions how much she misses me and that i should visit more often, to which i consistently reply, "Maybe someday."

It seems that day has finally come.

"Stop. Don't get too excited; i don't intend to spend much time in this place," I retort, my tone indifferent.

"The entire city already knows you're coming back, Bada."

Briefly, i freeze and fall silent. I only plan to make a short visit to my family, precisely.

"Incheon is wide-ranging; i doubt everyone really knows," I reply, an attempt to reassure myself that my plans won't change.

"Lin knows."

As soon as she counters, i instinctively hang up the phone, my back colliding with the seat of the moving train.

This definitely cannot be happening.

I was praying fervently not to encounter her during my time in Incheon, and i hope it stays that way. Regardless, she wouldn't want to see me after all these years... no, she hates me. I hope she hates me.

It felt like time stood still; i couldn't tell whether i had plunged into a deep sleep during those four hours of travel or if i had ended up in a temporal lapse. I open my eyes, and there's Incheon Station outside the window.

The time has come to face this city once again, with people bustling around, knee-deep in Christmas preparations just hours away.

I step off the train, grab my luggage, and find myself compelled to smile at strangers who somehow recognized me, waving as they passed. Perhaps they did, considering i gained some visibility after opening my dance studio in Busan. Or maybe it's simply because i am notably taller than the average Korean women; either of these reasons would be plausible.

My eyes scan the surroundings, searching for a familiar figure in the crowd. Mom said she would be waiting at the end of the station, my next stop.

"Bada!" Someone yells my name amid that human sea, resembling canned sardines.

My older sister came to greet me, slightly shorter than me, with a delicate and sweet appearance framed by her impeccably cared-for dark brown hair and welcoming smile.

"Haeda!" i respond, happy to see a familiar face, rushing to hug her.

"Mom couldn't come; she's busy with preparations for the dinner later," she shares, helping me with the luggage. "Lots of people are excited to see you, little sister! We're glad you've come back."

"I haven't come back; i'm just joining you for this Christmas season," I respond seriously, making it clear my stay won't extend beyond Christmas.

"You've always been a bit grumpy, haven't you?" she laughs, teasingly.

Finally out of the station, we settle into a taxi. During the ride, we chat casually and laugh about things that happened during our time apart. I'm trying to have some fun as much as possible.

"So, how's your love life?" she asks, innocently.

Oh, crap.

"I don't really want to get into that," i reply, slightly irritated by the question. The fun and nice atmosphere that surrounded us moments ago seems to have abruptly evaporated.

"Seems like you still think about Lin," she murmurs softly to herself, sighing calmly, yet i hear her loud and clear.

I arch my eyebrows, surprised and bothered by Haeda's comment. I plan to stay silent, but i can't resist.

"Why do you always bring her into everything? It's been years since we last spoke; she was just a kid. Now, forget about it," i assert firmly aiming to put an end to the subject once and for all. The silence in the taxi becomes deafening.

Not even five minutes pass, and i ask the taxi make an unscheduled stop.

"Aren't you going home?" my sister inquires, confused.

"I promised to have lunch with Lusher; there's a café around here," i reply, still maintaining a slight arrogance in my voice.

"I'll drop your bags off at home then," she understands, nodding.

I step out of the vehicle and grab my phone, immediately calling Lusher, asking her to meet me where i am. She agrees without a second thought.

A short time passes, and i spot a girl of average height, black hair, always smiling, with a high-pitched voice that stands out in the crowd. She runs towards me as soon as she sees me.

"Is that really you, Bada? It's been ages since i saw you. Have you grown even more?" Lusher enthusiastically hugs me, talking without even taking a breath.

"Looks like you're still talkative... and no, of course, i haven't grown more. I'm already 26. Now I'm just going to shrink," i reciprocate her warm hug as we head to the café.

"Tell me, how's Busan? How's your studio doing? I want the whole scoop!"

"We don't have time for me to give you the full rundown. Overall, the city is comfy, and the studio is doing well," i say, a bit curt; i'm not one to drag out my words.

"That's it? Nothing interesting happening?" she says in a frustrated sigh, still curious about my life.

"I know where you're going with this, miss Lusher, but i'm not commenting on that. I'm kind of fed up with this topic," i respond, making my exasperation clear.

We lapsed into silence for a few minutes until someone finally spoke up; she seemed nervous.

"Listen, i messaged Lin yesterday." She pauses, intending to continue talking.

Lin, Lin, Lin—I'm tired of hearing that name.

"She seems to want to talk to you," Lusher finishes, taking a sip of her coffee.

"Unfortunate. I've already stated that I'm only here for Christmas with my family," i halt, clenching my fists, wanting to say more but finding myself unable.

"Bada, you know she was deeply hurt after you left." Lusher attempts to ease the situation. "After all, you left without telling anyone, not even me."

"I didn't have to tell anyone. I've said that before; new opportunities arose, and that's what happened. Am I to blame for considering my future?" I say, feeling a slight warmth in my body due to the anger this topic brings up

"There's no issue with you wanting to pursue your dreams; the problem was leaving her in the dark out of nowhere. I think you should talk."

"Lusher, i've had enough. I don't owe her any explanations, it's over. I've paved my own way, and she's chosen hers, end of story." Rising abruptly, i toss money on the table for Lusher to settle the bill and i make a swift exit.

I sense Lusher's gaze on me, even though i haven't cast a glance back after leaving the place.

This is why i hate this city—the people, the environment, everything reminds me of her. I despise it; I despise being so coward and weak, unable to endure an environment where her name lingers. Tears stream down my face as i silently reassure myself, "The past is the past; it'll be fine."

It won't be fine.

For quite a while, i just roam around the city, immersed in the festive Christmas decorations and the chilly yet pleasant atmosphere. Families stroll along snow-covered roads, little cafes are buzzling with events, and everyone radiates happiness, caught up in the joy of being together—while i meander alone. I'm the odd one out here.

The city lights gradually begin to flicker on, signaling the encroaching darkness. It's time to head home for the Christmas Eve feast, but before that, i need something to ease my stress.

I head to a nearby convenience store, searching for a pack of cigarettes. I randomly choose any available brand, pay, and head towards a secluded alley.

Turns out, i'm not the only one there; a woman next to me doing the same, and i can't quite see her face. I shake my pockets, searching for my lighter.

"Fuck..." i mutter softly as i lean against the wall, frustrated.

Suddenly, i notice something fall to the ground, accompanied by words.

"Pick it up," the woman, slightly mysterious but oddly familiar, says, tossing the lighter onto the snow-covered ground.

I quickly bend down to grab it. "Thanks," I express promptly, attempting to say something more. "Do you come here often?"

"Sometimes, only when i think about my ex." She pulls the cigarette calmly, allowing the smoke to envelop her face in a thin mist. An ephemeral cloud of smoke slowly wafts around me.

"We're in the same boat," i muse, giving a little laugh at her comment. "Does your ex smoke?"

"Since I've known her. She was always cautious so i wouldn't end up like her; nevertheless, here i am," she narrates with a tense tone.

"You shouldn't smoke; judging by your voice, you've quit for a long time. You should stop while you still can," i suggest while lighting my cigarette with the borrowed lighter.

"Look who wants to give me a moral lecture," she laughs, mocking. The whole situation is ironic.

"Pfft, you don't even know me; you probably think i'm a hypocritical smoker," i admit, in a casual tone.

"Definitely."

"Maybe i really am, but I still have feelings!" I laugh, playfully.

She seems serious now, and we stay silent for a few seconds.

"Have you ever thought about your ex's feelings when you two broke up?" she inquires, finishing her last drag before dropping the cigarette on the ground and crushing it under her foot.

I remain motionless, confused, and unsure of how to respond.

"I'm just messing with you; after all, i don't even know you." She lets out a nervous laugh before completely disappearing into the darkness of that dimly lit alley.

"I'm home," i announce, slipping off my shoes and opening the door.

My mother greets me with a smile as she sets the dining table with the help of my father and sister.

"You're here! It's so good to see you, dear," my mother smiles warmly and hugs me. The scent of kimchi fills the air; she must have been cooking for a long time.

"What's that smell of smoke..." She makes a disgusted face, and i quickly plan an excuse.

"There were some delinquents smoking in the streets; the smell must have clung to me," i say cautiously.

"Looks delicious," i observe the meal on the table after greeting everyone present, trying to change subjects. Despite my reservations about Incheon and the memories this city brings, i feel welcomed and relieved with my family by my side.

"Let's eat!" My father exclaims, excitedly, sitting down and preparing to enjoy the eagerly anticipated tteokguk, a unique skill of my mother.

A few minutes were left for the long-awaited December 25th, and the countdown unfolded gradually.

"I'm eager to know what you brought for us from Busan, little sister!"

"Did i have to bring a present?" I laugh ironically, joking. "Just kidding, i'm sure you guys will like it!"

1 minute to the 25th.

"Wow, i can already hear the neighbors starting the countdown," my sweet and dear mother says.

A sound echoes at the door.

"Knock, knock."

30 seconds to the 25th.

"Oh, let me get that!" I quickly get up from my seat and head to the door.

10 seconds to the 25th.

I grab the keys and swiftly unlock the door, while my family had already started the countdown.

"5... 4... 3... 2... 1..."

I can't believe who is on the other side of the door.

"Lin?"

"Merry Christmas!" the whole family celebrates in unison as i stand there, paralyzed, looking at my former love standing right in front of me.

aaand we're done! i don't know if i should make it a series or not since i'm the lazy type but lmk! also tysm for @/kiyaedits for the dividers. i hope you enjoyed this as much as i did, thank you for reading. ❄️

#bada lee x reader #bada lee #angst #light angst #swf2 x reader #swf2 #bada lee swf2 #bada x oc #bada x reader #sw fic #bada lee au #bada lee fanfic

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napkinscrawls · 1 year

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.Weird/Silly shared habits. ."No one understands me like you do".

Aether & ghoul!oc | 656 words | allusions to chronic illness & dissociation | spoon based harassment (pos)

Inspired by this post.

Aether understands spoons (kinda), he shares this knowledge. AO3

Aether hands Nimo a small silver spoon. It's certainly a very nice spoon: fancy handle, swoopy lines, moulded casting, filigree. But why he has given them it & why he looked so accomplished after doing so has Nimo reeling. They begin to panic about some obscure ancient ghoul rituals they'd not been prepped on. Luckily, Aether answers for them.

"You looked like you had no spoons." His elbow nudges them as if the sentence made sense.

"...I didn't have any on me, no." Nimo agrees tentatively.

"Don't you worry! See, I learnt about this human need for spoons, it's like an effigy thing for them, right?" He doesn't wait for a response "Which is where I come in." He pulls his hand out of his back pocket to reveal a handful of more spoons, each unique & clearly taken from different places. He grins conspiratorially & waggles the fist full of cutlery.

Nimo blinks "That is very… thoughtful… of you." Still lost, but locked into a situation they have no bearings for they err on the safest path of no resistance. Aether claps a hand on their shoulder. "If you need more, just ask." Hearing a whistle down the hall Aether slaps Nimo on the back once more & trots off.

Standing there holding a spoon in an empty hallway Nimo decides this is a joke at their expense & buries it deep in a pocket to be disposed of once they finish Sister Imperator's endless errands.

Throughout the next month, as soon as Nimo felt the fog descending, Aether would pop out of the ether brandishing a new spoon. Everytime he'd pass it to them with a brisk nod & a by-your-leave. They began to assume teleportation is a Quintessence skill & stopped flinching at his arrival. The ghoul had gained a small army of utensils back in their room; consistently too tired to make the journey to the main kitchen where they assumed the majority of these are being lifted from. Reasoning it would be more efficient to wait for the hazing to end so they'd only need one trip.

By the 3 week mark they had resigned themself to being complicit in this spoon laundering scheme:

When Imperator had Nimo stood outside her office, their shoulders sagging in the heat. They shifted their feet in hopes of keeping from locking up & sure enough, turning the corner was Aether, flagging them down with a wave, a toothy smile & a vintage spoon.

When they leant against the garden wall & watched the clouds, on a rare 5 minute break that they spent pretending their head wasn't trying to float away. A shiny spoon pops into view & contrasts the luminous blue sky with a reflection of their mask, warped into a sad frown by the concave surface. Looking to the base of the outstretched arm was of course Aether, who then booped Nimo's nose with the offending spoon & grinned.

When they watched the gaggle of ghouls tear up the field during their scheduled 'enrichment time'. Their louds screams & yelps carrying on the breeze as they chased each other around. The ghouls simultaneously were trying to catch & escape the small red stuffed toy they were tossing around, the rules either draconian or nonexistent. Instead all Nimo heard was a phantom scoff at the damage being done to the property 'only for the fleeting joys of ghouls' echo in their mind. Nimo felt their tail curl around their leg but it wasn't apart of them. Conversely: spoon.

Only later when Custos Eulogy caught them putting the now excessive amount of spoons into the appropriate kitchenette drawer did she explain Aether's misunderstanding of the colloquial term. She didn't tell them to keep the spoons, only that they weren't from the ministry & would no doubt cause some sort of unknowable inventory meltdown if Nimo did try to sneak them in. Regardless Nimo felt compelled to hold on to them, feeling just a little bit more prepared with one in their pocket.

#the band ghost #mushy may #nameless ghoul oc

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bellatrixobsessed1 · 2 years

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Three Little Changes (Part 11)

Katara holds her hand to her forehead, squinting against the searing sun. It hangs proudly and goldly in a sky so brilliantly blue that it almost hurts. And perhaps it hurts because of the intense longing that it instills.

The squawk of a portable radio resting upon a pink polka dot beach towel declares that heat is at a record high and climbing. Not that Katara needs a radio to tell her that much, she can feel it smoldering in her each and every pore. She isn’t one to acquire a sunburn but she feels this heat to her bones.

On a normal day, the crooning of the seagulls would be a comfort to her, but even they seem lazy and untalkative beneath the rolling heatwaves. They take to the shade beneath the palm trees and their roosts in the rafters of the on beach smoothie bars and concession stands.

The never ceasing crashing of waves begs her to come to them. Each slap is a cry for her to come back; the water misses her and she it. But she can’t go to it, the beach wheelchair that Azula has ordered for her has not yet been delivered and there is a whole stretch of sand between she and the water. Not that the ocean will be lonely without her…

It is overflowing today, even if extra concession stands, popup souvenir shops, and tournament banners weren’t plentiful the suffocating weather is compelling even the most homebound homebodies out of their houses.

She even sees Yon Rah at the very edge of the beach where his property line meets the public beach. She had never been fond of the man, not since his feud with their mother. Over who could cook the best seafood of all things. She supposes that she has to respect him for his honesty–for not suddenly becoming buddy-buddy with the woman after her cancer announcement. In spite of it, she finds herself offering him a wave. The man frowns slightly but reluctantly returns it.

“Katara, you’re here!” Suki declares. “I have some water bottles and sunscreen.” She offers. “And other concessions.

“Yeah…most of me is anyways.” Katara mumbles. “I don’t know why I’m here…” she shoots a glance at Azula. “It’s not like I can do anything, anyways.”

“You can quit complaining, that’s something you can do.” This time the window between the words leaving her mouth and her realizing that the remark was completely uncalled for is significantly smaller. She mumbles an apology.

“I’ll take some sunscreen and a lemonade.”

Suki smiles and hands it over. “On the house.”

“Thank you.”

“You know that it’s no trouble at all!”

“A water.” Azula requests. “I don’t need sunscreen. I don’t get sunburns.”

Katara anticipates a hefty amount of complaining on the way home when Azula’s skin goes as bright red as the stripes on the Caldera Coast flag.

Suki declares the price and Azula points out that she is off by a dollar. “There’s a rudeness fee.”

Azula scowls but forks over the money regardless. Katara can’t help but laugh. “You’re actually going to pay the extra cash?”

Azula shrugs. “It’s not a substantial amount.”

“Maybe I should keep charging you fees for mean remarks.” Suki taps her pointer against her chin. “Like a swear jar or something.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Azula grumbles.

“Only because you know that you’ll somehow manage to put your whole family in financial debt.”

“You’re hilarious.” She replies flatly.

But her eyes tell a different story. The same one that they tell whenever Sokka starts to question her motives or affections. The same one that she had once worn when dealing with Lian and Star’s quips.

“She’s just being her, Suki. She doesn’t mean anything by most of those remarks.” Not that it isn’t something they’re still working on. “She walked all the way to the hospital to see me the other day.”

Suki’s expression softens at least a little, but Azula is no less tense. Not that she expects her to be.

“People of Caldera Coast!” Announces the host, over the speakers his voice thunders bold and enthusiastic across the beach. “Welcome to the annual town surf championship competition. We are just about to begin the first heat. And up first we have Chan, Ruon-Jian, Mihiro, and Sung…”

Azula takes Katara’s hand and gives it a little squeeze. She was supposed to part take in the third heat. She watches Chan and Ruon flash their self-assured smiles and give their waves as they pass through the crowd.

Katara looks away from them and well down the beach to the area where swimming is still open to the public. Azula follows her gaze and asks, “do you want me to take you down there?”

“For what?”

“A swim, I guess.” She replies. “It could be good for you. For both of us.”

.oOo.

It is quite a task to get Katara’s wheelchair across the sand even with Suki’s help. But she hopes that it will be a rewarding one. Azula huffs, she is about ready to lift Katara out of the chair and carry her the rest of the way while Suki holds onto the wheelchair. But finally they reach the shoreline.

A shoreline dotted with eroded rocks, colorful shells, and a light line of seafoam. Azula dips her big toe in first. “It’s colder than usual.” She remarks of her findings. She bites her lower lip as she finally begins to second guess her suggestion that they go for a swim. If the ocean had hated her before, surely it absolutely loathes her now. Now that she has escaped its aquatic grasp twice and stolen Katara from it too.

“You alright?” Katara asks.

Azula nods, digging her toes into the sand.

“You can lean on us.” Suki says.

“Ready?” Azula asks.

“I guess I am.” Katara mumbles. But Azula finds that she isn’t quite ready yet. Even so she lets Katara sling one arm across her shoulders while the other drapes over Suki’s. Slowly but steadily they make their way into the ocean.

Slowly, steadily, and with an increasing sense of unease that she feel is, for once, shared.

“We probably shouldn’t go too deep until you’ve had time to adjust.” Suki says.

“I don’t want to go very far anyhow.” Azula replies, reflexively brushing a finger over her scars.

“Neither do I.” Katara agrees. “Not yet.”

“Glad that we’re all on the same page for once.” Suki says.

Azula helps Katara lower herself into the water. Water that reaches to just above her belly button when she finally gets situated.

“Heat one begins now.” The host announces.

And Katara begins to weep. “This was supposed to be my year.” She whispers. “It was supposed to be all of our years.” She looks from Azula to Suki.

Azula swallows. She wishes that she could say that she had no clue what wasted potential feels like.

“We were going to show Star and Lian and all of them…”

“And you still can!” Suki declares. “I mean how many people can say that they were badass to survive a shark attack!?”

She knows that that won’t matter much. That they won’t see the skill and prowess that it takes to survive. They only see the scars and the disfigurations. Everyone only sees the weaknesses. But then again she had been in a boating accident, that’s just about as on par with the mundaness of a car accident. There is nothing extraordinary to her story. No splendid elements worth boasting about; she hadn’t even saved herself…

But Katara–she should be happy for Katara. Katara has herself an empowering story to go with her strife…

“How many people can say that they were badass enough to punch a shark in the face?”

Azula clears her throat, “it was more of a stabbing than a punch.”

“Well I don’t think that anyone else at Caldera High can say that they stabbed a shark.”

Azula manages a small smile. One that Katara doesn’t share. “I wanted to be known for surfing not surviving.” She grits her teeth. “Azula’s the one with the cool story.”

“Not the first two times she mutters.”

“At least you get to be the rescuer now!” Katara shouts. “That’s enough to make everyone forget about…”

“About how much they hate me.” Azula shrugs.

“I wasn’t going to say that!” Katara throws her arms up. “I was going to say that it’d be enough to make them forget about your accidents.”

“I don’t think that one lucky strike will be enough to balance anything out.”

Katara exhales and rubs her hands over her face. “I’m so tired of hearing about your insecurities! Why do you always make everything about you!?”

Azula sneers. “You made this about me when you said that I was the one with the cool story.”

“You guys…” Suki winces.

“And then you started complaining about the accidents again. It’s always a pity thing with you. You always have to be better than everyone; you even make being miserable a competition!”

“That’s not true.” She folds her arms across her chest.

“Guys…” Suki says again.

“You hate yourself and make it everyone else’s problem. You know why no one likes you?”

Azula scowls. It is like the cafeteria all over again and she is tired of hearing it. “It’s because you don’t. You would be the empress of the school…you would be the Lian of the school if you didn’t spend so much time feeling sorry for yourself.”

As if that isn’t what Katara is doing right now.

As if father doesn’t imply the same thing every day.

She could be so much more…

She could be but she isn’t.

Azula balls her fists and stands up. “Find your own way back up the beach.”

Katara’s eyes widen. “Azula!”

She kicks at the sand as she makes her retreat.

“Seriously, Azula? You can’t just leave me here.”

She almost asks the girl just how she is going to stop her. She bites her tongue at the last moment.

“You’re really going to leave your girlfriend here?” Suki asks. “She’s been putting in a good word for you all day but you’re still the same aren’t you? The same person who…”

She comes to a halt but doesn’t turn around. “I’m not.” She’s not that kind of person anymore. She can’t be. They are attracting stares now, an unwanted audience that she wishes would turn their attention back to the competition. And as she pads her way back over to Katara and Suki she wonders if she is even doing it for the right reason.

She isn’t in a particularly helpful mood.

She sits back down, pulls her knees up to her chest, and stares out at the ocean that wants to take everything from her. She thinks that it is probably laughing at her. It is easy to hear its chuckle in its slap against the sand.

#Avatar The Last Airbender #Azula #Katara #Azutara #Fanfiction

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waithyuck · 4 years

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TRICKY

pairing: elf! na jaemin x reader (f) **halloweenie special**

genre: smut, supernatural au

word count: 3k

warnings: {OKAY IM PUTTING A WARNING FOR VERY MILD *DUB-CON* BC TECHNICALLY THE READER IS TRICKED , BUT IN THE END OBVIOUSLY CONSENTS, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED}, sexual content (fingering, dry humping), explicit language, use of several pet names, possessive behavior and vocabulary, reader just wants to find her damn cat but gets a whole lot more than that, bad attempts at explaining folklore, I’m sorry for any inaccuracies 😬 **ALSO UNEDITED**

a/n: **repost bc tumblr sucks** this is definitely more of my own spin on what I think an elf would be like, so sorry to those of you who are into the lore and stuff 🥺

< previous | next >

~10/14/2020~

~~~~

your grandmother was always a very smart woman, and you knew that very well. so when she told you not to do something, you made sure to NEVER do it.

you lived with her on the very outskirts of your town; your own backyard made up of a very dense forest with enough trees in it to block out almost all sunlight. your bedroom window faced the forest, and every night you were forced to stare at it as you sat at your desk, contemplating what went on in there.

your grandmother repeatedly told you to never go in there, no matter what, ever since you were a child. she would talk about all kinds of crazy things, like witches and faeries, and even elves.

the first time she told you about the dark forest, you were only six years old.

“you can’t go in there, y/n.” she said seriously, crouching before you as you stood in the kitchen with her. “no matter how much it may call you, you can never enter it.”

you didn’t understand, so of course, in typical child fashion, you questioned her.

“well why not?” you shot back, crossing your arms and pouting. she stood back up after looking at you for a second, going back to mixing brownie batter in a large bowl.

“the fae are dangerous creatures. the forest is littered with them, my dear.” she stopped for a moment, gazing out the kitchen window and into the thick gathering of trees and plant life. “the elves will claim you once you enter, and you may never be able to escape again.”

after that, she didn’t say much else to you about it.

at first, you thought she was just trying to scare you into not wandering off, but after a while you began to believe her.

there would be strange noises in the night; like whispers calling out to you from the direction of your window. it creeped you out but you tried to convince yourself it was just your imagination playing tricks on you.

your life continued on like that for years, and eventually it didn’t phase you at all. you were used to the nightly whispers now, and even your cat didn’t seem to mind them, if she could hear them at all.

you never told your grandmother about them, however. she was getting old and you didn’t want to be the reason she had a heart attack, as awful as that sounded.

for being as old as she was, she still got around pretty good, and there were days when she left you along for a good few hours to go out on walks with her other old lady friends.

it was really cute.

today was just like any other day like that; your grandmother left around eleven in the morning to go out, leaving you some breakfast on the counter for when you inevitably stumbled out of your room at one o’clock in the afternoon.

everything seemed normal. you ate in silence and scrolled through your phone at the kitchen table, but then noticed something was right.

looking around you, you noticed your cat was nowhere in sight. she would usually be up on the table sitting and staring at you or rubbing against your leg for no reason, but currently she was nowhere to be found.

at first you just assumed she was sleeping somewhere else, but after eating you searched the house and couldn’t find her anywhere. walking back into the kitchen you happened to glance outside and your heart jumped in your chest.

then you started to panic.

looking out into the backyard you saw her stark white fur disappear into the thick brush of the forest, and you almost screamed out loud at the sight.

“fuck,” you exclaimed, your heart racing and your mind thinking of all the ways to try to get her back. you were always advised to not go into the forest...but you couldn’t let your poor cat who you loved very dearly to get mauled out there by some bigger animal.

you had to go after her.

you mustered you all the courage you had inside you, not bothering to change out of your ratty shorts and t-shirt before shoving your feet in your sneakers. you let out a shaky breath as you walked into your backyard, staring down the darkness of the forest with determination.

as you apprehensively made your way to the very entrance of the brush, you spotted a large crooked stick, and didn’t hesitate to grab it to use as a weapon if necessary.

you didn’t want to be completely defenseless against any supernatural creatures you came across. you had a gut feeling that running into one would be inevitable, and the fear rang like a siren in the back of your mind like a sonata.

the ‘do not enter’ and ‘keep out: danger’ signs did nothing to ease your pounding heart and screaming nerves, but you pressed on regardless. you had to do this, for your stupid cat.

with one large step, you passed the boundary of the trees, the wind picking up as soon as you did. a chill ran down your spine but you kept your legs moving, careful not to break your ankles on any protruding roots. it was incredibly dark, even though the sun was high in the sky, but the leaves of the towering trees cut out almost all light.

you stumbled around aimlessly for what felt like hours, but in reality it had only probably been about 45 minutes before you stopped and took a breather. checking your phone for the time, you felt a pang in your chest when you realized that it was off, and wouldn’t turn back on no matter how hard you tried.

“fuck,” you muttered, fear creeping up on your soul once again. you really didn’t want to be in this forest longer than necessary, and you really seriously contemplated just leaving your cat behind, as horrible as that was.

your eyes gazed around, taking in the trees surrounding you. nothing seemed too out of the ordinary...all though you really though you saw a few small dashes of light fly around you through your periphery. you prayed that they weren’t pixies or fairies of whatever else your grandmother told you about.

you didn’t trust anything, no matter how beautiful or non-threatening they seemed to be on the outside.

“hello there.” a voice spoke out suddenly, causing you to jump and spin around, dropping your makeshift weapon in the process.

your eyes met the sight of a young man who looked to be around your age, with a slightly unsettling smile upon his face. he was almost too handsome; the beauty that emanated from him in waves was incredibly addicting, and you felt the pull of him immediately. it was hard to tear your eyes away, and that scared you.

you had no idea where he had come from, nor did you know how he managed to so quietly sneak up behind you like he did. you definitely would have heard him coming, considering the amount of twigs and leaves littering the ground at your feet.

your heart raced at the possibility of who, or what, he was, your mind trying to go through everything your sweet old grandmother ever told you. some inner part of you already knew what you were dealing with.

“don’t hurt yourself, darling,” the man spoke again, referencing to your mind working in overtime. he took a step forward toward you, and in turn you took a large stumbling step back. he watched you move, chuckling. “I’m jaemin, care to tell me your name?”

“n-no,” you managed to say, your hands clutched at your chest as you tried to calm your racing heart. you swore you saw his eyes flicker a bright aquamarine for a moment before returning back to brown as his smile faltered slightly. It came back a split second later.

“you’re a smart girl,” he purred, most likely realizing that you knew he wasn’t human, inching closer once more. you felt frozen, unable to step back like you truly wanted to, and you willed yourself not to panic. “you know what I am, I presume?”

your lips shook as you opened your mouth to speak, your tongue running over your chapped lips and he watched every single movement, causing your body to shiver.

“I have a-an idea,” you softly whispered, not breaking eye contact as he stopped in front of you. he didn’t say a word, only smiling at you as you stayed frozen in your spot. one word screamed in your mind: elf. you didn’t even have to look at his pointed ears to deduct that. the vibe he gave off was abundantly clear, even if you had never encountered another being of his kind before.

it didn’t feel like he was compelling you; it was more or less your reaction to the immense shock and fear you felt, coming in contact with a creature your grandmother always warned you about.

and it’s all because of your dumb cat.

“l-look dude, I’m just trying to find my cat.” you stated strongly now, holding your ground as best you could as he looked at you intensely, that slightly unsettling smile never leaving his face.

“once it entered the forest it became mine.” he simply retorted, leaning against the tree trunk beside him. “anything that passes the trees here belongs to me…” he paused for a moment, his eyes now glowing a full bright aquamarine, startling you as he seared his gaze through your very soul. “so I guess that means you’re mine as well. how lucky.”

the elf spoke softly, but there was an edge to his tone that made you shiver, paired with his choice of words.

“I-I’m not..” you stuttered, your fists clenched by your sides. was he the ruler of the forest? some sort of elf king?

“you’re not?” he asked, chuckling to himself as he pushed his body from the tree, slowly slithering toward you on his bare feet. “did you not hear what I said? everything in this forest is mine. that includes living creatures,” you had no willpower to move away as he crowded your space, his glowing eyes paralyzing you as his body drew closer and closer. “I wonder what I should do with my new possession.” he smirked to himself, reaching a pale hand out to gently cup your chin, laughing lowly as you instinctively flinched. “you are without a doubt the prettiest thing I’ve seen enter my domain in years, princess. I’ve been waiting for you.”

his last sentence threw you off, but for a moment your brain couldn’t remember the whispers you heard all those years, and it didn’t click. you couldn’t deny that this elf man was attractive; and you couldn’t deny the fact that his voice had your legs weakening with every word he spoke. you cursed yourself mentally for being affected by him, because deep down you were aware of the danger of encountering elves.

thinking back to your cat, you wondered why she would have left the house in the first place. she was lazy and never wanted to really move...unless something was calling her…

your heart seemed to stop beating and your blood ran cold.

“you tr-tricked me…” you said in realization, your eyes widening. “you tricked me into coming in here, using m-my cat!” your voice was panicked and you found it hard to breathe. then, your brain finally figured it out. “you’re the one that’s been whispering to me all these years, aren’t y-you?”

he smiled at you with dark aquamarine eyes, and now you weren’t sure how you were going to get yourself out of this mess.

you weren’t entirely sure you wanted to get out of this mess.

wait, what?, your eyes widened at your own thoughts, where did that come from??

suddenly and without warning, your entire body was grasped in his hold. his hands dominantly gripped your waist and flipped you around so that your front was smacked up against a tree, the sharp bark scratching your cheek as your face was scraped against it.

“you’re my kitty now.” his voice whispered directly into your ear, his breath causing your body to visibly shiver in his hold.

you didn’t mean to whine, you really didn’t, but when he his teeth found your ear and nibbled gently on the skin, you couldn’t hold it in. your legs trembled beneath you as your knees weakened, the feeling of his warm body pressed tightly against your back leaving you wanting more and more.

he pressed deceivingly sweet kisses along your neck, your hands clutching the bark of the tree in response, your nails scratching along the surface. you jolted when you felt his right hand move down your front and nestle between your legs, putting pressure right against your covered center.

“hmm, you want it, don’t you?” he mumbled quietly, his chest rumbling against your back. “your thoughts are so loud, I know you can’t resist me.”

your thighs clenched in anticipation as he ran his long fingers delicately along your core through your shorts, and you let out a breathy whimper in response.

he tsk’d at you, giving your pussy a light slap through the thin fabric before completely drawing it away. “I wanna hear you say yes, kitty.”

his voice was demanding as he spoke, and you couldn’t disobey.

with your eyes glazing over, you gripped the tree trunk tightly and mewled out, “yes!”

you could practically hear him smirk, his chuckling causing you to grow even more wet as he finally slipped his hand down your front and into your shorts. when his long finger reached your bare and sensitive nub, you could help but arch your back, causing your ass to press tightly against his rapidly hardening cock. he groaned right in your ear, his hips bucking and grinding against your behind in time with his strokes against your clit.

“you’re already so wet, darling,” he moaned out, dipping his finger down to circle your entrance. “I could just...slide right in.” with those words, he slipped his index finger into you in one clean movement, his long finger reaching deep inside your pussy.

you cried out when the tip of his finger brushed a sweet spot inside you, and you heard him groan in response, a deep chuckle following.

“good girl,” he muttered, casually slipping his middle finger inside you beside his pointer. the stretch had you throwing you head back, giving him access to your pretty neck. “be as loud as you want, baby. it’s just me, you, and the forest now.”

his hips grinding against your from behind never ceased, and he thrusted his fingers to the same rhythm as his hips. he was literally fingerfucking you; before you knew it he was adding a third finger.

to help with the burn of the stretch, he reached his free hand down and used two fingers to pinch and roll your clit, making you squeeze your eyes shut and clench your teeth at the sudden immense pleasure you were feeling.

it was embarrassing, but you were already so close to reaching your high. you really wanted this feeling to last forever, so you tried to hold it as long as you could.

the noises escaping from you only grew louder the harder he went; the powerful strokes from his hips driving you into the bark of the tree and his fingers plowing deep inside you had you practically screaming.

his lips found your neck and he left wet kisses there, his grains and growls only enhancing your feelings of ecstasy. he sounded like sin, and even though he was an elven boy that you had just stumbled across, you knew you didn’t want him to leave your life. you never wanted to live in a world where you couldn’t hear his moans, and that thought almost terrified you. the effect he was having on you was extremely intense, and you weren’t sure if it was normal, but at this point you were far too gone to care.

“are you gonna cum, kitty?” he strained out, breaking you out of your thought as his hips stuttered against your ass, his fingers still powerfully fucking into you. you could only nod desperately, your throat sore from the guttural sounds you were releasing.

he let out a breathy laugh, causing your walls to flutter around his digits. “then cum. I wanna feel you fucking drench my fingers.”

his words were all it took for you to let go. you screamed as you came, your nails scratching against the tree as your cheek scraped sharply on the bark, most likely drawing blood. your pussy clamped so hard around his fingers that he could barely move them in and out of you, so he drew circles over your clit to help you ride out your orgasm.

his hips pressed tightly against you, and you could feel through your own pants the wet spot on the front of his, indicating that he had cum as well.

after a powerful minute of cumming, you felt your eyes droop in exhaustion almost immediately. jaemin withdrew his fingers from you, wiping your essence on his pants before grouping your waist to keep you from collapsing. you definitely would have fallen if it weren’t for his hold on you.

he gently lowered you to the ground, turning your body so your back was able to rest against the trunk. he wiped at the scratches on your cheek with his thumb, but even though it stung you didn’t have the energy to flinch.

“go to sleep, precious.” he said softly, still stroking your face lovingly. his gentle nature should have set off all of the alarms in your mind and body, but you didn’t have enough energy to care.

in the back of your mind you realized that you probably would never see your cat or your grandmother again, and that you would most likely be trapped in this forest with jaemin for the rest of your days on earth. you didn't want to think about it now, so you took his advice and allowed your eyes to close, dreaming of jaemin and nothing else.

maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

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i-am-infinite · 3 years

Text

Guilt (Part 1): The Rescue

(Din Djarin x ForceSensitive!Fem!Reader)

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Slight Chpt 12 and 13 spoilers. Read at your own risk.

Description: Moff Gideon has found someone else to run his experiments on and word gets back to Din. Will he take his son far away and try and find somewhere safe? Or will the guilt of an innocent being put in his son’s place eat away at him? (No Y/N or ___ used)

Word Count: Slightly over 4K

Warnings: Mentions of blood and needles. Broken glass. Fainting. Blood loss. Canon type violence. Possible bad writing (first fic pls go easy on me). If I’m missing anything please let me know, I’ve never done one of these before.

A/N: This is my first fanfic I’ve written so it might be really bad but I couldn’t get the idea out of my head so here it is. I also made up a planet/system and don’t know if star wars has alarm clocks but i wrote it in anyway. I also wrote this in Word first and then realized I couldn’t copy it over so I tried my best to type it over in here.

Normal. That is what was used to describe your life. Nothing out of the ordinary. Life wasn’t boring per se, but it definitely wasn’t compelling enough for your tastes. Studying to be a healer help keep it somewhat interesting but not enough.

Bzzzzz. Bzzzzzzzzz. Crust littered eyes creak open as your face unsticks from the textbook scattered across the desk. Bzzzzz. Bzzzzzzzzz. Your stiff neck cracks as you finally sit up. Fell asleep studying again. You loved learning about healing, you really did. But the long nights and barely sleeping was enough to make your head explode. Looking over at the clock with bright red numbers blinking at you. 8:15.

8:15! I’m late! You think as you force yourself awake. No not again! Being a student means you need to do hands on hours down at the nearest medcenter. All the late night studying also means that you oversleep most days. Grabbing your work bag filled with a change of clothes, in preparation of these events, you run out the door.

Your feet hit the wet cobble stones as it echos through your little part of the city. Vendors lining up the street ready to start their days. Passing the shop you went to yesterday, your mind too preoccupied to notice that it’s empty today. You know that theres is a faster route to the medcenter, but is it a path you really want to take today? Dark and windy path that you can barely see five feet in front of you on mornings like this. Too foggy and muggy for your liking. You’d rather stick to the main road where there’s people, where if anything were to happen, people would see, they would know. Regardless, it shaves fifteen minutes off your commute. You loathe having to be late for another shift. Making the sharp turn in between tow booths, you pace quickens to get through as quickly as you can. While not having much visibility, you swear you can see a pair of eyes in the dark. Has to just be my imagination, you convince yourself, I just need to keep going. It’ll be fine.

Footsteps echo behind you. Hands grab your shoulders. A scream rises in your throat, but no sound comes out. Everything goes dark when you feel something hit the side of your head.

Sigh. “Grogu get back in your seat.” The little baby waddles down off the controls and into his father’s lap. “Not what I meant,” Din grumbles with a smile hidden under his helmet. He grabs Grogu by his little robe and places him in the seat to his right and tells him to buckle up as a holo comes through from Greef Karga.

“Mando, we’ve just got word that Moff Gideon might have been seen in the Braic system. It looks like they found a substitute for the baby for the time being. I would use this time to go find a hide-out and lay low. He could still come back for the little one. Be well,”

Din goes to start the ship and find coordinates to stay out of trouble for a while when he hears the baby whine. Looking back at his adoptive child, all Din can see is Grogu, then a nameless kid, lying unconscious on a metal table, trapped underneath a contraption. Din starts breathing heavy and feeling sick that he ever gave his son up to those Imps. All he can hear is the beeping of the machine he’s hooked up to. Anger boiling back to the surface as he hears himself yell at the doctor all over again in his memories. No, he tells himself, He’s here with me. He’s fine. He’s safe. He shakes himself out of it and goes to fly the Razor Crest off planet.

Before he even gets off the planet, all Din can think about is that innocent person in his son’s place. They were going to kill Grogu, just for his blood for their experiments. Din can’t bring the kid anywhere near those people, he can’t risk losing his family, not when both of them have formed such attachments to each other. But he can’t stop thinking of this person who is in the that position now. He should’ve made sure Gideon was dead. Because of that now more people are going to get hurt.

Without thinking he turns on his holo already asking, “Where is he taking them?”

Feeling groggy with heavy eyes, you are able to open them just a bit to a blinding light. Reluctantly closing them again, you lift your arm to rub your eyes, but only they don’t move. What? The rest of your senses start coming back and you can feel the cool metal against your back, the same metal wrapped around your wrists and your ankles attached to the table. Finally bracing the light and opening your eyes, lifting your head slightly off the table and oh no the room is spinning now. There is an IV in your arm drawing your blood out into some odd machine, explaining the dizziness. Second time in two days you’ve had to deal with your own blood.

Walking through the shops on your one day off, you pick up a flower hair pin. The glasswork is so intricate and entrancing, you can’t help but turn it over and over in your hands. A pearl bead sitting in the center of iridescent gray and white petals. Placing it back in its place, your had scrapes against another glass design that is not yet finished, slashing open your palm. “Oh, dear let me help you with that,” the lady running the stand says. She looks you with her white hair barely covering her forehead. Tattoos liter her arms. A design peaks your interest as you swear you know but can’t quite place.

“It’s fine, I can take care of it myself,” you state already inspecting your hand. No shards in it so thats good.

“Oh no I insist. It happened at my booth, let me help clean it,” she declares taking your hand in her own. It feels like she squeezes the wound causing you to wince in pain slightly. Knowing she should just be cleaning it and wrapping it, you’re a little confused. Maybe she just doesn’t know how to tend to these sort of things, not wanted to embarrass her at her stand, you keep quiet. She finally gets a clean rag to help blot away at the blood on your hand. You didn’t think anything of it at the time, but it appears she has put it in a bag to the side.

“I don’t have any gauze to help wrap it up,” the stand lady says.

“Oh, don’t worry, I have plenty of my own,” you mention, “It will be fine until I make it back to my place.” Smiling you walk away. Without looking, you can feel her move the piece you cut your hand on into the bag. Must just be because it’s a dangerous piece, you think, not knowing there’s still some of your blood on it too.

Closing your eyes again, you try to wonder why that is so significant to you right now. It was a harmless thing in passing, so why is it at the forefront of your mind? You are strapped to a table and all you can think about is that little cut you got the day prior. If your head didn’t feel like it was a spinner top right now, you would have laughed. Opening your eyes again you see men all in white armor and helmets guarding the door to your room, while a man in a white coat is working on the machine where your IV is attached. I thought the empire was dead. The same symbol that keeps going through your mind is the same one sewn into the man’s white coat. Your breathing gets shallower as you feel the panic rise in your chest. I’m never getting out of here, you realize as your vision becomes black once again.

You’re losing a lot of blood. You know that. You can feel it when noise wakes you up and your eyelids feel like lead. All the noise is muffled, as if you’re underwater. Frankly it feels like you are. It would be so easy to let the waves of darkness just wash over you right now, to let the water take you under. No, you can’t give up the fight and drown into unconsciousness just yet. You force yourself to stay awake.

Barely getting your eyes open, bright red lights flood your vision. You imagine you’re still in bed, or at least asleep at your desk, with the alarm clock blaring, not here with blaster fire. Wait, blaster fire? You attempt to turn your head to the side to look, or to dodge, you aren’t to sure in your current state. The fast action causes you to feel like you’re spinning, or it might be the room, either way your eyes can’t focus on what is going on. Closing your eyes again to make it stop, you hear voices surrounding you. They sound so far away at the moment but finally, after what feels like ages, one voice sounds clearer.

“Please help us. Help us get out of here. Her m-counts aren’t nearly as high as the child’s. They’re demanding more blood. She’s already lost 2 liters, I don’t know how much longer she can last.”

Child? They wanted to do this to a child? You’d choke down a sob if you could just thinking of that poor baby. What did he even say about what-counts? What the hell are those? All these questions are making your head spin more and more. Taking most of your energy to open your eyes, you’re met with a chrome stormtrooper trying to unbind you. Wait no, not a stormtrooper. You’ve heard stories about him and his people. What were they called? For the life of you, you can’t remember right now.

“You’re going to need help getting her out of here,” you realize that the man in the whit coat was the one who spoke before and is now pleading with the metal man, “Please Mandalorian take me with you and I’ll help you get her out of here.”

That’s it. He’s a Mandalorian. He gets your wrists free as the doctor takes the IV out. Pushing off the table to sit up, the world starts spinning again. You don’t even realize you’re about to hit the table again until the Mandalorian grabs your shoulders to keep you semi-upright. You hear some sort of static come from his helmet. “Fine.” he grumbles, “help me get her out of this thing.”

With a flip of a switch, the rest of your body is free from restraints. Eager to get out of there, you swing your legs over the edge of the table, hands finding the arms of the Mandalorian with his hands still on your shoulders. Nauseous and woozy, you try to use the cold metal of his pauldron to ground yourself, to get the room to stop spinning. He can see you start to sway and wraps his arms around your waist as he lowers you from the table. Your feet hit the floor and black dots start to cloud your vision. Blood pounding in your ears trying to tell you to stop and lie back down. Muffled voices come from beside you again as you feel another arm wrap around you from the other side. Your feet dragging against the floor as both men on either side of you go towards the door.

You feel the heavily armored man to your left let go. Eyes that are still fuzzy and unfocused sort of see him peak out the door with his blaster drawn. He leaves the room and all that can be heard is the pew pew pew of blaster fire. Vision start to come back the tiniest bit, you can see him standing in the door way waving his hand as to say Come on.

The three of you hurry as fast as you can down the corridor to get to an exit. Lots of twists and turns, just for you all to come up at a dead end. So much for rescuing, you think to yourself as the doctor still holding you up, leans you up against a pillar as the two of them survey the situation. More of the Mandalorian assessing the situation and the doctor just frantically pacing back and forth.

Sitting down now that the adrenaline of being kidnapped and “rescued” die down, you feel your breathing getting shallower and harder to breath. Eyelids getting heavy again. You just want to lay down and go to sleep, hoping that will fix things. Starting your descent from your upright position to close your eyes, two hands grab your shoulders and jerk you up. It takes a second to realize this modulated voice was talking you you. “Hey, you got to stay with me now,” he pleads, one hand going to the side of your face. Pain spreads across your features due to being struck there earlier, a bruise starting to form in its place. Pulling his hand away like seeing the your face contorted burned him, he continues, “I’m going to get you out of here, you just have to stay awake.” You open your mouth to speak, but your throat feels like it’s filled with sand from Tattooine, so you just weakly nod your head yes. “Okay good,” the shiny man says after letting out a deep breath.

Still holding your shoulders, he helps you stand up and tells the doctor to take you and go further down the hall. Taking something small and circular out of his belt and placing it on the far wall, he speed walks back toward you two. It starts blinking red as his arms come and cage both of you in. Peeking over his shoulder, you see the wall disappear. Well explode, but one second ago it was there and now it’s not. When the explosion first rings in your ears, you reflexively reach out for the Mandalorian’s arm and feel him tense under your touch.

When he deems it safe to move again, letting go of his arm, he hops over the rubble to the outside world, blaster drawn. Looking out you think it looks like a desert, but one you’ve never seen before. You have no idea where you are, even what planet you are on. You eyes go to where the chrome man is stalking towards. It seems he found two speeder bikes that the troopers use, sans the troopers. Your feet hit the gravel and you realize you aren’t wearing shoes anymore. How long was I out? You begin to question when you see a stormtrooper take aim at your rescuer. Right when he pulls the trigger, you reach your hand out and scream, “NO!”

You could’ve sworn it was going to hit him. It should’ve hit him. But at the last second it bent and went in another direction. You knew stormtroopers were bad shots, but nothing like that has ever happened. The Mandalorian whips around at your scream and shoots the trooper down. He goes back to what he originally planned to do, but not without turning to you. You see his chest plate heave up and down a few times before turning back around. After a beat, the only sound you can hear is the Mandalorian starting up the speeders and your heartbeat pounding in your ears. The doctor helps guide you to the bikes and as you’re about to get on behind him, the Mandalorian picks you up bridal style and sits on his own respective bike. You make a noise of discontent at the sudden action and are then seated in front of him, yet again caged in by his arms with your legs draped over one of his. You can hear him breathing through the modulator as he states, “Just in case you pass out again. Can’t have you falling off the back of the bike.” You go to adjust how you are sitting when he takes off.

Gasping in shock, you hug your arms around his neck with you head in his cowl as you take panicked breaths. His hand touches your back as you hear him shout over the noise of the engines, “Put your legs around me, you’re slipping off.” He holds your waist as you sling your right leg around and hook it with your left one behind his back. Not the position you thought you’d end up in as a blush creeps up on your face, but neither the less here you are. His hand lets go of your waist and back to the handlebars as he steers.

Suddenly getting the feeling like you’re being followed, you say into his neck cowl, “Go left!” You don’t know why, but you just get a gut feeling to go that way. He follows your lead, not without a brief hesitation. The doctor follows on his speeder in the same direction. Finally looking up you see two stormtroopers in the distance. I wish their speeders would just stop or something, you plead with yourself and you think back to what happened with the blaster. Testing the waters, you unhook one of your hands from Mando’s neck and hold it out and... nothing. Okay focus, you close your eyes and picture their speeders stopping, or malfunctioning, or anything at this point.

The sound of a crash comes ringing into your ears. Opening your eyes, you can see the troopers flip over their handlebars as if their engines just died. You slightly chuckle to yourself as your eyelids feel heavy again. You try to get them to stay open, but sleep just feels so much better at the moment. And with that, you’re out like a light.

Din feels you go limp against him. His arm once again going to grab you by your waist to keep you in place. He wills his speeder to go faster, to get back to the Razor Crest sooner as he’s panicking thinking he somehow made the situation worse. He exposed you on the bike by having you sit like this. Your arms, legs, and head were all exposed to possible blaster fire. Have you been hit? He heard a crash but couldn’t look back without moving you more, risking leaving you more unprotected. His blame for himself spirals as his grip on you grows tighter. He can’t explain why he’s so distraught over a stranger, but still every time he blinks, he swears he sees back on that table. The next time he swears he sees his son on that very table again. First he gave the kid up to those people, now he didn’t finish Gideon off and let you, an innocent stranger who he is now clutching onto for dear life, get in the crossfire. Too many people have gotten hurt because of this. Because of him. He needs to make it right.

Finally Din and Dr. Pershing arrive at the Razor Crest where Din is already lowering the hatch and carrying you in. Kicking some crates together, he gently lowers you down onto this makeshift bed. He uses his thermal setting to see your body temperature, to see how you are recovering from the blood loss. He isn’t thrilled to see it still low, you were getting your energy back slowly before, along with more body heat, bit not enough to Din’s liking. Turning his helmet to Pershing, the doctor says, “She’s going to need more blood.” Din, already standing ready to run out and get some, not even knowing where or how to do that, is stopped by Pershing telling him that he’ll go get it, that it would look less suspicious. Agreeing, Din sits by your side while using his comm-link to tell Greef that he could bring Grogu back to the ship. How Din always finds someone to babysit still surprises him.

You wake up with a start. Eyes not yet adjusted to the lights overhead. Looking down you can see an IV in your arm again. Now towards the side, you can see the same doctor from before asleep up against a wall. Please tell me it wasn’t a dream, tears well up in your eyes as you think you’ve made the whole thing up to cope. It wasn’t until you felt your hand come to wipe away your watery eyes that you realized it just might not be a dream. The IV isn’t taking blood this time, it’s giving it.

Finally looking around, you realize you’re on a ship that feels like it’s moving. Confused by this, you try and sit up. Not nearly as dizzy as before, you slowly swing your legs off the wooden crates you’re lying on. Noticing your still barefoot as a chill gets sent up to your spine by the cold metal floor, you grab your IV bag off what appears to be just a hook poorly attached to the ceiling. You venture around the small area of the ship, noticing there isn’t a lot besides these boxes and what appears to be two storage type of units. You don’t even tempt to look in, too intrusive. You do however see a ladder going higher up on the ship. Taking the IV out and ripping a piece of your shirt off to wrap around your arm for pressure, so you can use both hands to climb, you start your ascent up.

Once you finally reach the top, you hear cooing? Didn’t that doctor say something about a child earlier? Looking forward into the cockpit, you see your savior flying while looking to his right at one of the co-pilot chairs. Clearing your throat to get his attention, two little eyes peer at you from the seat. A bright smile appears on this little green things face and you can’t help but stifle a laugh because its ears are the size of his body.

Distracted by this cute baby, you don’t notice the way the Mandalorian swivels his chair to face you. Finally looking at the man who saved you today, your breath hitches. You don’t know how to thank him for what he did, so you sort of just stand and stare for a second. He stands up and lightly grabs your arm with your homemade bandage on it. Tilting his helmet to the side you hear static coming from it. Did he just sigh at you? “You were supposed to keep it in your arm,” he finally states, with a tinge of annoyance.

Eyes not wanting to meet the T of his visor, you direct your gaze to the ground. “ I jus- I-,” you stammer, not able to find the right words. “Thank you.” It comes out more hushed than you’d like, but he still hears you. He just gives you a slight nod before releasing his arm and heading back to his seat. All your muscles turn to stone as you stand there not knowing if you should leave or not, until he cocks his head towards the seat to his left. On shaky legs you find your way to the seat. Before even sitting down fully, the little green child is already trying to get into your lap. Giggling to yourself you let him up onto your lap.

Once you do the strangest thing happens. You can feel what he’s thinking, his emotions, his past. How he was trained with the special abilities, much like the ones you just displayed before. How he was scared and in hiding until the man sitting in front of you found him. How he thinks of him as a father, his dad. Your chest tightens at that one. Still confused as to why the same people who wanted this child, Grogu, for his powers, also wanted you, you pull him to your chest to comfort you both. You finally speak up again and ask, “Did they want me because I might have the same abilities as this one?” You meant it to sound strong, but it just came out sounding weak.

Without looking at you, the Mandalorian replies shortly after a pause, “Yes.” You swore you can see his grip tighten on the ships steering as he says that. Turning to the two of you finally, he says in the sincerest voice you’ve heard out of him, “They wont get to either of you again. I can promise you that.” Your chest swells at this statement and Grogu looks up at you with a smile as if he felt the way your heart fluttered. You wish you were the one wearing the helmet right now because you can feel your cheeks heat up. To ease the situation in the best way you can, awkwardly, you clear your throat before asking, “So where are we headed now?”

Swiveling back in his chair to hit a few buttons, you’re confused not knowing what they are supposed to do until he pulls up a map and points a place out. He tells you that he’s going to drop off Dr. Pershing at one of the squiggles you see and then try and figure it out from there. “So, I guess thats where I get off too?” You meant it to come out more as a statement than a question, but after what you just went through, you’d rather not be left to fend for youself.

“If that’s what you want,” he finally utters after a while. “ But they’re not going to stop coming after you. Either of you. It might be safer for you to stay here with me, us.” The last part comes out so quiet, it’s almost as if he didn’t want you to hear, out of fear of your response.

Trying to not answer too quickly, you take a deep breath and finally say, “Yes. I’d like that a lot.” With a curt nod, he turns back around. Warmth fills your chest yet again at this stranger’s kindness. It’s just because I have the same abilities as his child, you try to convince yourself. But deep down you’re hoping it’s more than that. The child in your lap grips your fingers tightly and coos, as if he’s trying to tell you your hopes might not be too far off.

Oh, it’s going to be an interesting adventure with these two, you smile to yourself.

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notchesandbullets · 3 years

Text

Saving Her (Ojiro Mashirao x Wolf!Reader)

Part 2 : Aizawa’s reluctant dad side kicks in when he sees you’re clearly distressed, fast friends with Midoriya, fluff with the girls of 1-A, Todoroki and Sato.

Word Count: 5.7k

Bowing your head in defeat thinking that there was nothing you could do to possibly change his mind, you started to shuffle towards him when you were stopped.

"Ojiro-san..." You whispered.

He refused to move his tail. He refused to let you go.

"Aizawa-sensei, please," He was desperate, worried out of his mind at what would happen if you were left alone.

If he wasn't there to protect you.

He gritted his teeth, holding back as best as he could. "Don't do this."

"Do you want her to be safe or do you want her to be with you?" Aizawa's eyes were serious. "Because those are two different things."

The boy fell silent beside you.

"Here, she's exposed. Her whereabouts have been leaked to your classmates and while I don't blame you for the incident that occurred, you have taken responsibility for her." The older man continued despite your head ducking down in shame. "This is what's best, not only for her, but for the rest of you."

He directed that last part over your shoulder and you glanced over to see all the boys from earlier as well as a couple more unfamiliar faces that obviously had been roused from their sleep due to all the noise.

Aizawa sighed, really not wanting to argue or go up against one of his most dedicated students this late at night. "You have to remember this dormitory was built to ease your parents' worries. They entrusted your safety to us and we are responsible for you."

The air suddenly got a lot more difficult to breath.

"I told you that you would have to earn my trust back." He said, rough but even voice cutting through the silence like a knife, alluding at something you didn't understand.

You didn't want this. You didn't want to make things hard on everyone or cause a fuss.

"I'll go."

Ojiro's expression of surprise gave way to pain. "Y/N..."

"They'll be safer if I leave, right?" You met Aizawa's blank stare bravely despite your knees knocking together. "I want to protect them, too."

Protests rose from the other students at your determination, the majority of them pleading for you to stay, much to your surprise. But their teacher wouldn't budge and slowly, they had no choice but to give up. As much as they wanted to get to know you better, it seemed like that would have to wait.

You looked up at Ojiro, sad to have to leave but knew it was the best thing to do for now. As you moved to take off and return his hoodie to him, he halted your movements.

"Keep it." He urged, a slight blush present on his cheeks. "I don't want you to get sick."

With a small smile, you thanked him quietly, promising to give it back when you were able to see him next. He returned your smile at the prospect of there being a next time before unwinding his tail from around you.

You followed Aizawa to where he was staying so that he could make a phone call from his office. You took a second to peer around the cluttered room curiously but dared not explore. Unlike Ojiro, he didn't seem like he would take kindly to you poking around his things.

Suppressing your instinctive curiosity, you gulped when he hung up the phone, approaching you with his hands stuffed in his pockets.

"For now, you can't stay on the school grounds until we figure out some kind of legal guardianship." He relayed, being rather straightforward and clear cut with you. "I'll walk you to an inn for tonight."

"Ah..." You trailed off as he fixed his gaze on you, shuffling your feet awkwardly. "T-Thank you Aizawa-shi, but I-I can... take care of myself. I don't want anyone to get in any trouble and I know it will reflect badly on UA if you are caught harboring me, so..."

Letting out a heavy sigh, he walked past you as you rambled, opening the door. "Just hurry up."

You walked quickly, not wanting to fall behind as he strode on ahead of you, paying your entire speech no mind. You didn't know whether or not to be thankful or offended but greatly leaned towards the former. It was true that you had enough survival skills to look after yourself but life was much harder when there wasn't anyone in it.

It took about an half an hour by taxi but the night was nice and Aizawa instructed you to hide your ears and tail as well as not talk to anyone else.

You followed him to a quaint inn at the outskirts of UA's property, checking in at the deserted lobby, Aizawa paying for your room for the night. Unable to help it, you started to wander, curiosity taking over.

The walls were decorated with vintage wallpaper, curling slightly at the edges when one panel would fade into another. But while the air inside felt musty and the carpet was stained with faint shades of tea and coffee, the fresh flowers at the center of the lobby brought a smile to your face.

Once you were out of earshot but still within his field of vision, Aizawa turned to the owner.

"Make sure she gets whatever she asks for." He told him gruffly, handing him a bunch of yen to compensate for the trouble. "Food, blankets, whatever she needs."

"Y-Yes, of course, sir." The owner babbled, stunned by the sheer amount of money he had just handed to him.

You spun around, yelping frightfully when you face-planted into Aizawa's chest. He steadied you, sending you a glare that one could only decipher as a warning. Backing away quickly, you apologized profusely until he cut you off, telling you not to make so much noise.

It was late and he had a headache.

Chastised, you followed him up the creaky stairs, coming to a door with green paint peeling off of it.

Aizawa arched an eyebrow, then internally shrugged, using the key to open it. Inside, there wasn't much. A twin sized bed was crammed next to a lumpy couch he was assuming had a pull out cot, a table and a single chair in the corner along with a small bathroom.

He sighed again, wishing that he brought his sleeping bag. That would've been more comfortable than this.

Flicking on the light, he drew the curtains closed. Sparing a glance over his shoulder to make sure you were still alive since you hadn't talked since he entered, his eyes narrowed when he found you with your back pressed against the door, eyes widened in alarm.

Your knuckles were white from where you were clutching the doorknob, nearly breaking it in the process and the sound of it rattling is what drove him to finally break the silence.

Recognizing the patterns of your behavior, he turned around to face you, keeping his shoulders relaxed and maintaining eye contact with you. Trying to appear as non-threatening as he could possibly get, he forced his jaw to unclench.

You let out a shaky breath you didn't know you had been holding in when his expression softened. If you didn't know any better, it almost seemed like he was being kind.

"I don't know what you've been through but I'm not going to do anything to you, kid." Aizawa murmured and you were taken aback by how the edge to his voice disappeared when he was talking with you. "I also know that might be hard to believe coming from a stranger, but it's late and you need to sleep."

He had a feeling you would react like this and while initially he had planned on leaving and going back to the dormitory to get some shut eye before the sun came up, something compelled him to stay.

He wasn't sure it was because of your reaction but regardless, he wasn't leaving now.

This area wasn't well protected and if anyone saw you coming in and him leaving, they wouldn't hesitate to take you. He didn't know how well informed the Quirk Traffickers were but he wasn't going to take any chances.

Waving his hand towards the bed lined with fluffy pillows, you hesitated before timidly laying down as he suggested. Now, you realized what he was doing. With you here and him there, he had maximized the space between the two of you and didn't block your access to the door in case you needed to flee.

Your ears flicked nervously as you got under the covers, trusting him a little bit more. "What about you?"

He exhaled, eyes closing, swollen bags already present under them. "I won't move from here. I'd leave you alone, kid, but I'm not sure that's a good idea since those guys that are after you are pretty persistent."

Your eyebrows knitted together, contemplating if it was a good idea to ask him.

He had just started dozing off when your shy voice asked, "You're a hero, right?"

Humming nonchalantly, he hoped you would drop it there but you didn't.

"Is..." You played with your fingers, tail flicking back and forth. "Is there any way I can become one?"

That piqued his curiosity.

You stiffened when he cracked an eye open, piercing your soul.

"Why don't we talk about it more in the morning, kid?" He finally said.

Unable to conceal your eagerness, you beamed at him and he crossed his arms over his chest, which was rumbling with laughter. You shifted, getting comfortable and promptly fell asleep. For the first time in a while, you didn't stir once during the night.

He stared at you for a little while longer, gaze growing fond. For a kid to have gone through as much as you have, you sure appeared pure and untainted. Your energy was infectious.

A nightmare for the constantly exhausted underground hero.

Hmm... maybe this kid won't be so bad after all.

The next morning, you were awoken by the light of the sun for the first time in years only to be shocked when a steaming hot plate of sausages and fried rice with eggs were placed by your bedside.

"Aizawa-shi?" You yawned, rubbing your eyes sleepily.

"You don't have to be so formal, kid." He told you. "Aizawa-sensei is fine."

During the night, he had moved from the corner to keep an eye on the door. Sometime around 3 am, he had finally fallen asleep and when he woke up, there was an annoying crick in his neck.

Your nose scrunched up as you sat up, accepting the plate of food he offered you. "But you're not my sensei."

He shot you a look at your cheeky reply and instantly, you shut your mouth, stuffing your mouth only to cry out when you burned your tongue. He scolded you immediately and rushed to get you a glass of cold water.

You smiled sheepishly as he made you drink some before instructing you to blow on your hot food before shoveling it in your mouth like that. This time when you resumed your breakfast, the silence wasn't harsh or stifling like last night. It was lighter.

"I would be if you attended UA."

You dropped your chopsticks. "Huh?"

After more thought and a lot more details from him, you learned that when he had contacted Principal Nezu late last night for the third time. He had asked if it would be possible to enroll you in the general studies course until they could figure out a safe place for you.

Going to school would put you on a lot of lists due to the information the school had to provide for the government and it wasn't his initial plan since you wouldn't be able to hide in the blink of an eye with no paper trail, but he couldn't think of anything else after that fiasco that Ojiro had informed him of last night.

Plus, with you enrolled in their school with literally pro-heroes everywhere, you would be well protected simply within UA's walls. And if you ever went missing, he could already think of twenty students who would come to your aid.

You were silent at first, mulling it over. Your fluffy ears twitched every so often as you ruled out other possibilities until a wide smile spread from ear to ear.

You bowed at him, popping back up with your eyes shining, heart touched that these people you barely knew were going so far for someone like you.

"I would be honored, Aizawa-sensei."

You spent most of the weekend alone since he had other responsibilities that required his attention but he always came by at lunch to check on you and then again at night to keep watch while you slept. You argued that he didn't need to do all of that but strangely enough, he insisted and you conceded, unsure of how much you could push the issue since he was your senior.

Before you knew it, the weekend and Class 1-A's break was over. It had been four days since you ran into Ojiro and you couldn't lie. You missed him.

Badly.

Aiawa had classes to teach and you were looking forward to seeing Ojiro and Yaoyorozu and the other girls again.

For the past few days, he hadn't let you leave the motel room.

The innkeeper, who you learned his name was Jin, often came to keep you company when you requested some food. You felt bad for making him do so much work but he never seemed to mind it. In fact, he rather seemed happy to have someone to talk to.

You were supposed to leave at the same time as Aizawa the day classes resumed but were so taken with the invention of the bathtub on the way out that he had to leave before you. Heaven forbid he got fired because he was late in helping you figure out how a shower worked.

Which is why you were confused when he kept finding excuses to stay longer until he admitted to being uneasy leaving you to walk to UA alone. You teased him and he rolled his eyes. But in all seriousness, who was going to try their luck in broad daylight?

No one was going to snatch you in front of a bunch of people.

He had nothing to worry about.

After a very long and thorough lecture of safety he hammered into your head to keep the door locked at all times and to stay away from the windows, only to follow it up with all the emergency protocols you were to follow if you were being followed or attacked.

To be honest, you nodded your head through it to show that you were listening just to appease him.

He finally left an hour later and you were free to do what you wished without him quietly worrying away in the corner that you were going to hurt yourself.

It was becoming a known thing that despite your keen wolf senses, you were very clumsy.

Aizawa found it oddly amusing and horrifying at the same time.

Deciding a bath was in order, you filled up the tub with warm water, washing away all the grime and blood that had accumulated over time with a soft hum of contentment.

Once that was done, you got dressed and finally left, bidding the Jin, who was at the counter a warm farewell and thanking him for the many meals.

He waved goodbye to you, telling you he hoped you would come back and visit soon even if it wasn't to stay at the inn and you nodded eagerly, promising to visit him in the future.

You skipped down the pavement, making sure your ears were sufficiently hidden under the hood and tail tucked away thanks to the excessive length of the huge sweatshirt. You thanked the heavens above that you had been born with normal eyes.

The last thing you wanted was to have to wear sunglasses all the time.

Three hours later, you were standing out the gates of the school, completely smushed against the security gate and getting trampled on by the press in their chaos to try and find a way to break in.

Geez, their persistence was annoying.

You would've gone another way if you knew one. This was the only route in and out of the school as far as you were aware.

Squealing when you took a tumble as someone shoved you a little too hard, you winced as you tried to catch yourself from falling, only to scrape your knees when you landed on the rough cement.

Ouch... You grimaced, pulling down on your hood to ensure that it wouldn't slip off and expose your ears. That one hurt.

Puffing out your cheeks, you concluded you weren't going to get anywhere so long as they were here. You took your chances, taking off for Heights Alliance.

Just as you thought, the building was locked but you sniffed the air, eyes lighting up as you spotted the same boy from last week. You had caught him talking to Ojiro before and he had taken the liberty of introducing the two of you. He was sitting on the front steps with a somewhat distant look in his eyes and a small notebook in his hands.

"Midoriya-san!!"

He turned at the sound of your voice, visibly lighting up when he saw you.

"Y/N-chan!!" He greeted enthusiastically, then dropped his hand in concern at your disheveled appearance and bloodied knees, running out to meet you. "What happened?!"

"Ah," You winced, flashing him a canine smile full of guilt as if it was your fault you got hurt. "I got pushed around by those people crowding the front."

Pulling a key from his pocket, the boy laughed along with you before unlocking the front door. "Aizawa-sensei tells us not to talk to them, but I'm pretty sure Kacchan has threatened them before."

You tilted your head, puzzled. "Kacchan?"

That name didn't ring a bell.

He enthusiastically explained the rivalry of his childhood friend as he navigated you through the common area. You sympathized with his story, listening attentively when he mentioned how desperately he wanted to be friends with him and admired him.

Ah, so Kacchan was the explosive pomeranian.

You smiled when he told you that recently things were starting to change between them and hugged him happily when he mentioned that maybe they would finally get to be friends one day.

"How are you so nice to him after he tormented you like that?" You asked, genuinely curious and in awe at how his bullying didn't harden his heart.

Midoriya shuffled towards the kitchen. "Kacchan acts mean but he really isn't. He's really strong so I think he just doesn't want to look weak."

His thoughts rang through your head and you fell silent when he didn't elaborate.

Actions speak louder than words, huh?

Sitting down on one of the couches, you followed him with your eyes as he rummaged through something under the sink. "What are you doing? And aren't you supposed to be in class?"

He straightened up with a small huff, cheeks flushed in embarrassment. "Ah, well, they're training today and Aizawa-sensei says I'm not allowed to participate until I learn how to fight without injuring myself."

You tapped a finger to your chin as he came over with a duffle bag in his hand, sitting a respectable distance away from you. "But if you don't train, then how will you get there?"

Midoriya just smiled easily, eyes turning into crescents. "He doesn't really mean that but today he actually wanted me to make sure you got here okay."

You jolted at that.

"He what?!"

"Yeah," His brow furrowed but then smoothed over once he found what he was looking for. "I know it probably seems like Aizawa-sensei doesn't care that much but he actually does, and a lot, for us."

He told you about the USJ incident and the lengths he had gone to protect them when the League attacked.

You were speechless. Sure, this was not that new to you since you had experienced his rugged, begrudging version of kindness over the past couple of days but to have someone go out of their way to make sure you were safe and for them to actually agree to it was a whole other thing.

To hear that you weren't the only one who experienced that side of him made your heart feel warm.

Aww... he's such a softie.

"Ojiro-kun wanted to do it but Sensei said he needed to work with Ectoplasm on his tail movements." Midoriya explained, not noticing the pink that dusted your cheeks as he mentioned his name. "Here."

Blinking, you stared at him for a beat before you realized he was holding something out to you. "Oh!!"

You took the pair of athletic sweatpants with a questioning glance. "What are these for?"

He blushed, stammering. He didn't think he would have to explain it. "W-Well, y-you know, Yaoyorozu-san always k-keeps an emergency bag for these kinds of things and I-I don't think she would mind."

You giggled and his nerves faded a little in wake of your bright laughter. He gave you some band-aids and ointment to apply on your scrapes after you cleaned it.

"That's really thoughtful, thank you." You said.

He scratched the back of his neck shyly, matching your smile before packing away the rest of the things while you went to go change.

Fortunately for you, the slight injury wasn't severe. There was only a slight discoloration from where you had impacted the pavement surrounding the patches where a couple layers of skin had come off.

As soon as you finished taking care of it and put on the pants he had given you over your usual shorts, you exited the bathroom only to find Midoriya in the same place you had left him.

"So, class?" You asked, now that he had fulfilled his mission from Aizawa.

He smiled sheepishly, holding up his phone. "Ah, about that..."

Apparently, the police were held up by traffic at the moment and couldn't deal with the press that were still disrupting the students and staff. One had been foolish enough to try and cross the sensor without a pass, causing the UA barrier to activate. No one could get in or out for the time being.

Since they just built the dorms recently, the teachers were working to extend the barrier around the new buildings but it hasn't been finished yet. Instead, Cementoss created a high wall to keep outsiders out while the finishing touches would be put in place.

So while you couldn't go to school, you also couldn't go anywhere else.

Midoriya sighed, looking awfully forlorn. "I'm sorry, Y/N-san. It looks like we'll be here for a while."

"That's okay!!" You cheered, plopping down next to him, not wanting to see him so sad. "This will give us some time to talk, right? What's your story?"

He was surprised you were able to let go of it so quickly since you seemed so eager to see his classmates, then shook his head as confusion hit him like a truck. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, what made you want to go here?" You asked, tucking up your knees and resting your chin on top of your knees. "Why do you want to be a hero?"

The look that crossed his face was one of unbridled joy and determination as he launched into his story after hearing that you wanted to know about him. That look in his eyes only grew brighter the more excited he got and his energy was contagious.

You couldn't help but cheer along at his moments of triumph as he relived the memories.

It connected into him showing you his notebook where he wrote down everything about all sorts of heroes once you asked him how he managed to keep track of everything he had told you in his brain.

The two of you were so engaged with your conversation, hunched over the coffee table as he tore through his notes that neither one of you heard the front door open.

But the loud chatter that flooded the common floor had you both springing to your feet in an instant.

"Welcome back, everyone!!" Midoriya greeted enthusiastically as his peers crashed the party. "Y/N-chan is here!!"

You smiled happily as Ashido launched herself at you, smothering you in a hug.

"Y/N-chan, you're back!!" She shouted excitedly. "Yayy!!!"

"I hope it's alright that I'm borrowing these." You tugged on one of your ears self-consciously as Yaoyorozu greeted you just as warmly. "There was a minor incident earlier."

The raven-haired girl waved you off automatically. "Of course it is!! That's what it's there for after all. You can keep those, I'll replace them later."

Jaw dropping open in surprise at how cool she was, you just managed to catch Uraraka as she flew at you at breaknecking speed. You returned her hug, smiling and bobbing your head along with her as she caught you up on all the latest things that had happened since you were gone after making sure you were okay.

It was almost weird. Almost like you fit right in.

You had only met them once last week and yet they were all so eager to befriend you. You thought you should've been more wary of them but they didn't seem to mean you any harm. Your gaze eagerly scanned for Ojiro, only for your tail to droop slightly when you didn't see him.

Hagakure giggled, picking up on your disappointment. "Aizawa-sensei asked him to stay behind for extra lessons today, but he'll be back later~"

If the invisible girl was visible, you were almost sure you would've seen her wink.

After that energetic yet warm welcome, you were ushered further inside as the boys took over the common space to hash out some friendly competition through a game of Smash.

Bakugou was banned, he broke one too many controllers in his fit of rage last time.

You stumbled through the hallways and jittered nervously as you and the girls took the elevator up to Yaoyorozu's room.

It was rather cramped, given that all her furniture was a lot bigger than her bedroom could handle but that just meant you all could sit in a circle on her enormous bed.

Hagakure eagerly asked if she could paint your nails to which you stammered out you weren't exactly sure what that meant.

An array of shocked gasps had the girls scrambling in a flurry to grab anything and everything needed for an evening of relaxation. Jirou even grabbed her guitar while Yaoyorozu left to go make some tea. Uraraka got to work on detangling your hair, in awe of your fluffy ears. The two of you were caught giggling hysterically as Asui came through the door with the elder girl balancing a tea tray in tow.

The next couple hours consisted of you getting to know Asui better, the frog girl preferring you call her by her first name, Tsuyu, and the girls spoiling you rotten, completely ignoring the fact that they had homework due tomorrow.

You were floored.

Your stomach started to growl and your cheeks pinked when Ashido shrieked at how adorable you were.

Jirou just barely stopped herself from smacking her friend, you were clearly hungry.

Yaoyorozu asked if you would like something to eat and you bowed your head, folding your hands in your lap.

"... If... If it's not too much to ask for." You said quietly.

Yaoyorozu cooed and Hagakure squealed, practically dragging you out of the room and back downstairs. Uraraka and Jirou stayed behind, needing to get to work on a project that wasn't due until the end of the year, but wanting to get started on it now so that they didn't have to do it later.

Midoriya was nowhere to be seen once you got downstairs, but the other boys hadn't moved since you had last seen them with a few exceptions.

Kirishima and Kaminari were still lounging in the same spot but had turned the TV off and had textbooks spread out before them.

Shoji, Aoyama and Iida were in the adjacent corner, all three of them looking up when Ashido bounded over to them.

Asui went over to where Tokoyami was studying, and the two of them started studying for Midnight's upcoming exam.

Sato was in the kitchen when Yaoyorozu came in, greeting her politely when she asked if he could help her make something for you to eat. He blushed a bit, saying how he didn't have much experience cooking since he was more proficient in sweets but that he could try.

"What's going on?"

You turned around at the unfamiliar voice as Yaoyorozu greeted him, with a slight twinge of relief in her tone.

"Todoroki-san!!" Yaoyorozu smiled. "Do you know how to make any meals? Y/N-chan is hungry."

The boy with two-toned hair debated the situation, brow knitting in concentration.

"I'm not sure." He said slowly.

He wasn't sure he'd be able to make you something satisfactory. He really only liked to eat one thing and therefore only knew how to make that well.

"Do you like soba?" He asked you.

You tilted your head, the word not ringing any bells. "What's that?"

Todoroki cracked a small smile at your curiosity, then pushed up his sleeves and immediately got to work alongside Sato while Yaoyorozu fetched what he needed.

You wanted to help them but seeing as how you had no idea what it was or what they were doing, you decided to leave them to it. Sitting on the same stool at the kitchen island as the first night when you came here, you interjected occasionally to grab something they seemed to be looking for in an attempt to not be entirely useless.

Sato was the one to reassure you that there wasn't much to do in preparing it and that your food would be done soon.

Five minutes later, Todoroki was pushing a bowl of hot soba towards you. Sesame and ginger wafted through the air from the broth and your nose scrunched up cutely, bright eyes going wide as you salivated.

"It smells really good!!" You cheered.

A subtle but relieved smile made its way onto his face at the compliment and he handed you a pair of chopsticks. You had been fed hot food so rarely you weren't used to cooling it down before you ate it. You dived in, recalling Aizawa's instructions from before and blowing on it first before tentatively taking a bite.

They were really tasty for something that looked so simple.

You beamed, soup dribbling down the side of your chin once you tasted it. "Thank you, Todoroki-san, Sato-san, Yaoyorozu-chan!!"

The boys bowed while the girl diligently wiped your chin with a napkin and patted your head, happy you liked it.

Content that your needs had been satisfied, Yaoyorozu asked if you wanted anything else before she got started on her homework for the night. You shook your head, thanking her once more before she left, Todoroki following not long after.

Finishing your soba, you watched curiously as Sato whisked something together in a large bowl, checking on the paper on the counter before pressing a couple of buttons on the oven.

"Whatcha doing?" You asked, nose twitching,

His gaze flickered up to yours and he smiled. "I'm making a chiffon cake. Would you like to try it once it's done?"

You beamed, practically drooling at the thought of it already. "Yes, please!!"

The aromatic scent of chocolate hazelnut made your mouth water as he pulled it out of the oven.

He made casual conversation with you as you stared longingly at the cake that had to set first before he cut it. You were surprised to find out that he liked baking more than cooking but nodded your head understandingly when he explained his quirk to you.

"That's so cool!!" You exclaimed, flapping your hands excitedly. "You convert all of that into power and it makes you stronger?!"

"Yes, but it doesn't last very long." Sato told you as he sliced the confection carefully. "And my brain doesn't work as well but it is quite handy to have in a difficult situation if I have some snacks on hand."

Your eyes lit up when he handed a generous slice to you on a plate rimmed with cherry blossoms. It almost looked too good to eat.

Almost.

You waited until he got back from distributing it to his peers who were still in various spots on the common floor before sharing it with him so you could eat it together. Of course he didn't remember to save any for him.

"Isn't this a lot of work?" You mumbled around a mouthful of cake as he explained how he'd been trying all sorts of new recipes. "Doesn't it get tiring?"

Sato nodded, cleaning up his work space and grabbing new bowls from the cabinets. "Yeah but it's worth it since it helps me with my quirk. Besides, I get to share it with everyone when they're done."

You giggled, pointing at him with your fork. "Yes, that's definitely a plus."

A hearty guffaw erupted from his lungs, causing several others to look over in your direction but your smile only grew wider.

You made someone laugh. Really laugh. It made warmth bloom in your chest and you kicked your feet happily, chomping on the last bit of cake with a blissed out look on your face that was equal parts from the confection and your new friend.

He might've looked intimidating but he was nothing but kind.

The front door cracked open and your head turned at the various greetings that came from around the shared space had your eyes widening.

You dropped your fork and it clattered on the countertop of the kitchen island.

"Ojiro-san!!"

Taglist: @katsukis-sad-angel

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thatweirdoleigh · 3 years

Text

Frozen Love

#February2021promptchallenge

Prompt: “I’m going to take care of you, okay?”

Oneshot / kinda based on daydreams about an oc

Procrastination is a bitch, but here you go!

Little editing. WE DIE WITH PRIDE. Sorry if this is scientifically impossible. or just impossible to read.

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, implied Hypothermia, some swear words Feel free to @ me if I missed any.

Italics represent thoughts

Kol x Reader

Her tears felt like fire against the freezing air. It had happened. He did it. He finally fucking did it. Her boyfriend, now ex, had finally snapped and showed his true colors. Her bloodied lip and quickly bruising face a testament to his cruelty. He confessed that he was cheating and that he liked it. He called her a worthless excuse for a lover, then threw her back out in the snow without so much as a coat. The winter temperatures had continued dropping below freezing for the past several weeks and as shivers raked across her spine, she quickly realized she would surely freeze if she didn’t pull herself off the ground.

Ok Y/n where can you go?

Taylor is already stressed.

Dave will be angry.

Klaus will outright kill me if I go to Cami or Marcel.

With a groan, y/n pushed herself off the brick wall and up from the ground. Her stomach twisted in knots, as she resigned to her fate. Pulling out her phone only to find it dead, she cursed at the sky. Damn it. And so she walked, vigorously rubbing up and down her arms, hoping to whatever god would listen that she was going the right way.

Kol groaned as he stripped off his coat. Tugging a hand through his hair, he informed his brothers that he was going to go shower off the blood and then crash, and that he wouldn’t be joining them for there celebrations. Klaus only waved his hand, mumbling that there wouldn’t be one, he himself being eager to join his very pregnant wife in bed.

Although neither party were on particularly friendly terms, Marcel and the Mikaelsons were not actively trying to kill one another. This however, did not persuade a group of extremists from attacking the Mikaelsons in the name of “freeing Marcel from their compulsion”. Marcel was not compelled.

They were exhausted. This was the 4th attack in a week and it was only Wednesday. So Kol trudged up the stairs, careful not to track mud across the carpet (Rebekah would have his head), stripped his clothes and got in the shower where he allowed the hot water to relax his aching muscles.

Kol opened his eyes, consciousness slowly swimming back to him, as shivers ran down his spine. After having scrubbed off all the blood in the shower, Kol had gotten in the tub figuring he deserved the joy. Must’ve fallen asleep. He acknowledges. The water now cold, Kol gets out, and dries his hair but not after putting on gray sweatpants and his favorite sweatshirt, the one that y/n had gotten him for his birthday. His lips involuntarily curl into a smirk at the thought of his best friend and secret crush.

Regardless Kol yawns and flops onto his bed relishing in the warmth of his room, grateful for the modern invention of indoor heating.

I’m hungry. Should probably go eat s’mthin.

Just as sleep starts to wrap around Kol like a warm blanket, the door bell rings.

He frowns against his pillow and listens intently for the front door, trying to figure out who would be here at this ungodly hour. He is rewarded with a familiar voice pleading with something he can’t quite place, “Please Kol, just open the door”. Y/n?

And so Kol makes his way out and into the entryway, exasperated and sleepy, trying to figure out why his best friend would grace his doorstep at this time of night.

“This better be good” he said playfully as he swung the door open. However both his mood and face dropped quickly as he saw the state of the woman he loved. Her eyes were glossy as if she could she right through him, her eyelashes were clumped together where her tears had frozen, her lips and nails were a concerning blue, complementing the purple and black that marred across her cheek and she was shaking as if a gentle breeze could push her over.

“The hell? y/n?” he pulled the door wider, shock and panic starting to take hold.

“Sorry” she murmured, seeming genuine in her apology, “didn’t know where else to go”. And with that she collapsed into his arms.

“Fuck!”

When y/n woke up, it was not with a sudden gasp from her usual, frequent nightmares, or with the same clarity that one had after a good night’s rest. No, when y/n woke up her senses swam back like molasses. The first thing she notices is, its warm. She is wrapped in something warm and soft. Blankets, she concludes. The second thing she notices is the taste of copper and how thick it feels in her throat. Kol. gave hes blood i guess….Kol. She hums his name gently as she gets the vague feeling that she is forgetting something.

“Y/n?” Following the voice, the next thing she notices is the body pressed against her back. She hums again as she rolls further into its warmth. Her eyes flutter open and she is greeted with the face of her best friend and the man she has secretly loved while her boyfriend messed with her mind, filling it with lies. Lies claiming the she could never be loved. She smiles, “Kol”.

Pulling her closer to his bare chest, y/n now wearing his sweatshirt in an attempt to keep her warm, Kol gave a breath of blessed relief at the sound of her voice, “you had me worried, you were so cold, I didn’t think you were breathing.” He gave a half hearted chuckle. Y/n hummed happily as she snuggled backwards closer into the warmth of his body. Kol shuffled the blankets higher over her shoulders and took and careful breath.

“So do you wanna tell me why you appeared on my doorstep half frozen and bruised, without a jacket, in the dead of the night?” His words had an edge to them that he hadn’t intended, as he desperately tried to push away the image of her face marred by black and blue.

y/n stilled, suddenly wide awake, as her memory of tonight’s events came back in a flood. The pain, the heartbreak, the cold, all of it.

“y/n?” She choked back a sob, as the hatred of her boyfriend’s words starting echoing in her mind.

You’re useless and a waste of my time. Guess I was wrong, you can’t be loved. Not even by me!

“y/n”

The crash of the beer bottle was jarring but what was more jarring the punch thrown shortly after the bottle hit the wall.

“Y/n.”

His fist was in her hair now as tears streamed down her face. “Let me go!” she begged. “You’re hurting me. Let me go! Please!”. The door opened and she landed in the snow, as she was thrown out into the icy cold. “AND DON’T COME BACK YOU USELESS BITCH”. The door slammed shut.

“y/n!” Kol was now hovering over top of y/n, desperate to break through her distress. She took in a sudden breath and then a sob as she clung to him. Kol swore under his breath as he started rubbing up and down her sides and legs trying to get her to calm down.

“hey, hey. Its ok. I’ve got you. I’ve got you. You’re safe. I’ll take care of you. I’m going to take care of you okay?”

Another breath, “Okay”.

“okay?”

“Okay.”

Several minutes passed before either spoke again. Y/n because she was to overwhelmed to speak and Kol because he was terrified he would scare her again. As y/n’s breathing evened out Kol laid back by her side and wrapped her leg over his hip as he pulled her closer to him. The intimacy of the gesture caused y/n’s guilt to bubble through into the silence.

“I’m sorry.” Kol was taken back by this.

“For what? Crying? Princess, Its OK, I shouldn’t have asked, I should have just let you sleep and then waited to talk in the morning.”

Y/n’s throat swelled tighter at the sincerity in his voice. “F-For being weak. For being a coward. For showing up on your doorstep at ass o’clock at night!” She said thickly.

Kol pulled back to look her in the eyes and he saw the pain and anguished guilt in her eyes, and all he could think of was how much he wanted to make it all go away.

“Baby girl, I love you, but you’re scaring me. What’s going on? Why were you outside? Why didn’t you have a jacket? How and where did you get the bruises from?”

“J-JJ kicked me out for being home late. A co-worker volunteered me for overtime. H-He hit me and confessed he was c-cheating.” She explained her tears were flowing freely now.

Anger flashed behind Kol’s eyes, and he pulled her tighter against him, like he was using his body as a shield from the outside world. “I’m gonna kill him,” He vowed lowly. “How dare he. How dare he fucking treat you like that”.

Y/n froze, not because of Kol’s vow, that was to be expect of any Mikaelson, but because of something else Kol just said.

“Wait, you love me?”

Now it was Kol’s time to freeze. His anger quickly over-taken by shock and the fear as he realized his slip up. He avoided her eyes in shame.

“y-yeah” his heart stuttering, “yeah I do. “ he whispered.

“Oh thank god. “

And then she kissed him.

#kol mikaelson x reader #february2021promptchallenge #kol mikaelson #elijah mikaelson #klaus mikaelson #rebekah mikaelson #kol x reader #kol x y/n #kol mikaelson fluff #im kinda proud of this #please be nice i'm more confident with poetry #leigh wrote a fic

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yeleltaan · 2 years

Note

HEYSEL

Recommend romantic candidates for my muses and see their reaction! | accepting! | mentioned: @yellowfingcr

“Ah, Heysel... I’ve grown exceedingly fond of her, and it’d be silly of me try to deny it. Can you imagine it? If I went silent for a few, endless seconds, then responded ‘no’ out of nowhere? Straight out of a melodrama, proper pacing and satisfactory development sacrificed for a cheap twist, memorable and contentious. I assure you that’s not a role I intend to play, not with her."

It was at this moment that he pondered if she would have labelled herself as such. Perhaps ‘romantic’ was a word compelling enough, and sufficiently ample in its possible implications that she would have readily spoken it in playful tone, a boisterous jest that wouldn’t necessarily make the statement any less genuine. Whatever the case, Cayin saw it clearly enough in his dear scholar’s demeanor, a hesitance to acknowledge certain aspects of their relationship. Ultimately no consideration of semantics would erase the evident: their emotions were hopelessly entangled, and the affection which resulted from that, intimate and intense regardless of what name it was given, was one they were willing to convey in displays of vulnerable trust and bold ecstasy.

If anything, perhaps the word ‘candidate’ fell short by now. His gaze fell as he recalled waves of memories and sensations, bringing forth a soft smile he couldn’t contain.

“...She’s extraordinary. She makes me think things and in ways that are unfamiliar to me. It’s... strange, but also weirdly exciting. It feels fresh. As reticent as I once was, I find myself thinking back to our conversations, wondering when we’ll have the next, I even look forward to her... frankly bizarre sense of humor. And that almost menacing optimism she carries with her, and that, that wicked brilliance of hers she could rightfully boast about but rather keeps a deadly surprise for her prey. I could go on and on, and I haven’t even got started on what a sight she is to behold regardless of the shape she chooses to assume. So expressive and captivating.” Maddeningly absorbing, addictively sweet. Unpredictable, dangerous and spectacular, like loving a natural disaster. Strange, the odd allure that inspired in him.

“There is so much I’d like to know of her still, and she must think the same. I think that we’re both simply... wary. A little scared, maybe. Yharnam isn’t keen on remaining one way or the other, it didn’t come to be what it is by staying still and, well, neither did we. It’s not that we don’t want to walk the way together, we just don’t know if or when our paths may split. And Heysel... she isn’t someone you can move away from hers, not against whatever will her ambition motivates. She simply wouldn’t be Heysel otherwise.”

But that was only one side of the coin. The other, which he chose not to elaborate on, posed a mirror problem: Cayin had an immutable path of his own without which he wouldn’t be Cayin. And even if their tracks remained parallel and never crossed or split the question remained, what would she think of ‘the gentleman’, as she liked to call him, when his character ceased to reflect that title? The two of them were perceptive enough to know, there was more to the other than even what they had revealed to each other already. No matter how unconventional or unrepenting, kinship of mind was not guaranteed.

“I would merely want her to walk by my side, without renouncing who she is. That is all I could ever ask.”

#yellowfingcr #AWFULLY MEAN OF MY BRAIN TO GET BLOCKED WHEN I HAD 85% OF THIS DONE #took a few rewrites to reach a point where I felt it did them justice but it was lovely to look back on how their dynamic developed #and where he is mentally in relation to said bond #thank you Cat for the ask!

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wordynerdygurl · 3 years

Text

A Wonderful Christmastime

Author’s Note: Well Hello All! I hope that you’re all taking care of yourselves and staying well! My tag-list is open and you know I love the validation of reblogs, shares, tags and adds!! I have been working on a larger OC story which has kept my from my Loki writings, but I entered a challenge posted by @toomanystoriessolittletime for the Christmas holiday. If you aren’t following, please do as she’s got a great little Advent Calendar of seasonal stories for you! One a day through the month of December!

I chose a prompt based off of my least favorite Christmas song. Ever. Like in the history of humanity. Like, my family torture me with it because of how much I dislike it. This story is a chance to take a little lighthearted revenge on Sir Paul McCartney and also, hopefully, help you all enjoy a Wonderful Christmastime! Also, isn’t this gif the cutest thing in the world? My thanks to the OP and creator for it... it’s amazing and I love Christmas Loki!! Pairing: Female Reader x Loki

Summary: Everyone has a favorite holiday song... when Loki learns which one you dislike, he uses it to his advantage. Warnings: Christmas holiday mentions, SMUT, Oral (F receiving) and MF Sex, also, the over use of a certain song that makes me, personally, crazy!

This was it. That perfect moment when all of the holiday hustle was behind you. Nothing to buy, nothing to ship, nothing to wrap, nothing to bake. It was all over. You had made it through another Christmas Eve.

Your well decorated tree sat in the corner, presents tucked below for you and Loki in the morning. The frittata was resting in the fridge along with the two bottles of Prosecco you planned to have with brunch. Hell, it was the holidays, after all.

But that was for tomorrow.

Tonight you were relaxing after an afternoon of family Christmas fun. Nieces and nephews, piles of shredded paper, stacks of snacks and so much laughter your belly muscles were sore. And through it all Loki had been a champ! Holding your hand, rubbing the small of your back, pulling out your chair; Loki had put the other partners to shame. Whether he was telling bawdy but tasteful jokes to the men who drank cheap beer around the TV, sharing hair care tips with your sister’s oldest girl or whispering with your mom in the kitchen, he was always where he needed to be. For the first time in ages, you had been able to enjoy the day fully, and you knew Loki was the reason why. After getting home, trading your dress and boots for comfy shorts and a sweatshirt, you padded into the living room. Loki was there, sitting cross legged, digging through your bag of swag. He had put seasonal music on in the background while munching through a plate of Auntie’s sugar cookies, two well poured goblets of red wine waiting to be had at his side. God, he was good. “Is one of those for me?” You couldn’t help smiling. Loki, looking like a little kid, over excited and surrounded by all the trapping of Christmas just felt so precious. It took him a moment to reply as he was solely focused on the handmade puzzle box your mother had crafted for all the guys this year, “Hmm? Yes… one’s for you…” Kissing the top of his head, careful not to dislodge his Rudolf blinking antler headband, a gift to Loki from your youngest nephew, you moved towards the couch. Sipping from your glass of wine, snuggled under the softest chenille blanket your sister-in-law could find, you sighed contentedly. Victory over the holiday season felt amazing. Now all that was left on your to-do list was eating, drinking, and enjoying alone time with Loki until New Year’s. Suddenly exhausted, you felt the lovely warm drag of drowsiness and snuggled deeper into the sofa. Shuttering your tired eyes, you listened as Loki stood up, off to hunt up some more food, no doubt. Visions of sugarplums danced in your head as you started to succumb to a sweet slumber. That’s when you heard it.

“The moon is right, The spirit’s up, We’re here tonight and that’s enough…” Groaning, wide awake now, you sat up with a shout, “Loki?!” Like magic his raven head popped around the doorframe, his reindeer antlers askew, a candy cane hanging out of his mouth, “Yes?”

“Um… question: What are we listening to?” Stepping back into the living room, his new holiday flannel shirt open at the neck, Loki leaned over you, husking playfully, “Music. At least, that’s what I believe you Midgardians call it.” “Ha ha. Yes, I know it’s music, but this particular song?” You couldn’t keep the tartness from your tone as you pressed your nose into the handsome one on Loki’s face. Pausing, listening intently, Loki cocked his head to the side. Singing along, his bells jingling, “Simply having a Wonderful Christmastime!” “Ugh. That’s what I was afraid of!” Flinging a hand over your eyes, you grumbled, burrowing back into the cozy couch as a means of blocking out the obnoxious noise of the worst holiday song in the history of humanity. Making himself comfortable at your feet, pouring himself another glass of vino, “I like it. It’s simple. Direct. What are you doing? Me? I’m simply having a wonderful Christmastime!” From deep in the cushions, muffled but forceful, you pleaded, “Make it stop! Please!” “What for? It is still Christmastime, is it not? And we are enjoying a wonderful time, aren’t we?” Turning back to face him, a Scrooge-like scowl on your suddenly serious face, “I’ll do anything to get you to turn that off.” That got his attention, “Anything?” Sitting up quickly, you reached for your blanket only to feel Loki snatching it out of your grasp, “You said anything, darling.” Tugging on the plush fabric, practically pouting, “You’re not going to take my new fluffy blankie, are you?” “Oh no. That’s not nearly enough to stop me from playing my favorite Christmas carol.”

“It’s your favorite, now? Loki, you just heard it.” Waving your gripes away, pinning you under his arms and under your blanket, “I love it. It’s my favorite. You can’t mess with perfection.”

You wiggled, trying to free an arm or a hand, anything to help defend yourself from Loki’s soft, but effective attack, "Perfection? Loki, it's awful."

"I disagree. But…” Brushing a gentle kiss to your captive lips, making you melt into his warm touch, Loki made sure to keep you immobile. Unraveling under his ardent attention, you gave up fighting, focusing on Loki’s roving hands through the protective layer of your new throw.

Lost in his lips, you ignored the wretched recording still spinning, until sitting back with a sly smile Loki continued, “Regardless of my newly acquired antlers, I am a reasonable man. I'm willing to hear your side of things. Convince me, dove."

Looking up at him through your lashes, licking over your bottom lip that tasted of Loki's peppermint, it took you a moment to refocus on your argument. Sighing doggedly, “It’s just garbage. Too sweet, too synth-pop. It’s plastic. There’s no substance to it.”

At least Loki did you the service of considering your answer. He paused, listening to the offending tune, starting to hum along once more. “I don’t know. It sounds like church bells ringing. And I like when the kids start singing!”

“You couldn't. Those are two of the worst things about it! There’s not a single redeemable factor in it’s trite, super saccharine, four minute run time.” Agitated now and edging into anger, your voice kept rising, spurned on by the inability to get away from Loki’s plush prison, “Also, get off me!” “Can’t do it. But-” nuzzling into your neck, tasting along the tendon there, “-I can replay this song.” “That’s it!” Fury tinted your words as you tried harder than ever to break free of your fleece prison but Loki was brick heavy, unmovable, and impossibly giddy at your predicament. All things which only added fuel to your fire. Wriggling like mad, struggling to kick a foot free, you squirmed desperately for leverage. His response? A deep chuckle, “Is that all you’ve got, darling?” Laying those long, lanky bones on top of you, holding down the throw’s corners in a way that made fighting futile, Loki smirked at your distress, “I still don’t see why you hate it so much. It is a simple song because we’re simply having a wonderful Christmastime! It’s in the title after all.” With cheeks hot from exertion, fully frustrated and forced to listen to Paul McCartney’s bland holiday ballad start a second time, you nearly shrieked, "I hate it, Loki! Loathe it, really! The lyrics are basic, the keyboard is tinny, and Sir Paul is better than that!” “Is that all?” “No! It's even worse when someone else sings it, like those kids from Glee or an up and coming Country artist making their first holiday record!"

Beneath the blanket your chest rose and fell with bothered breaths. From rubbing against the couch your hair stuck up in odd angles and you could feel heat rising off your neck. How had you gone from almost asleep to a blanket related battle royale? Loki, taking advantage of your confinement, kissed your forehead sweetly, and the change in tactic caught you off guard. His lips grazed the tip of your nose as you huffed out a pout, eager to see where his mischief making would lead. Pressing his forehead to yours, that deep sonorous voice whispering lowly for your ears alone, "Not a compelling enough argument for me to turn it off, I'm afraid." And to your holiday horror the song in question started again. Grousing, "Don’t play it again! Please! I’m begging you!” “Already begging darling?” Thick with mocking, Loki slotted himself between your thighs, keeping you from fighting back with any power. Whining full out now, poking out your bottom lip, “Come on! Please, let me up and turn this off!” “Why, of course, my pearl.” With no effort on his part, Loki scooped you up, blankie and all, pulling you tightly to his chest. Gripping your bottom, his fingers firm through the cotton of your pj pants, he squeezed hard enough for you to yelp. “Hey!” But that’s all you managed before his talented tongue invaded your mouth. Now the only thing you could hear was the shaky exhale of your shared sighs and your own needy mewls when Loki started to withdraw.

Godly hands drew your thick and comfy sweatshirt over your head, leaving you bare against the cuddly softness of your new blanket, a perfect dichotomy to the heated hardness of Loki’s chest. With your arms finally free you tangled your hands in the long tresses of your lover, distracted from the awful music by his groan, “Easy darling.” But now that the tables were tipped in your favor, you had no intention of going easy on Loki. Not after his antics tonight, not a chance. Tugging hard enough for him to wince, you ground against his lap with a nip to his neck, “Turn it off then.”

“Now, why would I do that? Aren’t we still enjoying a Wonderful Christmastime?” Bouncing in his lap, purposefully teasing your mischief maker with a smirk, “We were until you let this terrible song play!” Laughing heartily, Loki stroked over your bare shoulder, one hand resting on your waist and the other cupping your cheek. “If I wanted to, my darling, I could change your mind. I could make you adore this song.” “Is that so, Odinson? I doubt it.”

“Doubt me? On this, Christmas Eve! When you know the feelin’s here that only comes once a year?” A confident nod was all he got for an answer. In a flash you were laying on the soft rug, your legs wrapped over Loki’s and your new blanket tossed to the side. Fiery kisses to your chest and neck led him to the shell of your ear where he hummed hungrily, “The moon is right, the spirits up…” Enjoying his mouth but not his music, you shoved against his shoulders, panting, “Don’t sing, just kiss me.” Licking into your mouth, Loki’s tongue obliged your need as his hands skated over the curve of your hip, breaking your kiss to croon, “We’re here tonight, dove… and that’s enough.”

“Loki… please stop…” You fisted his shirt, pulling at the buttons until his muscular torso was under your fingers, strong and solid. Pushing the plaid cotton off his shoulders, you let your nails drag over Loki’s naked back as you shifted your hips, subtlety be damned. He took the hint. Nipping a trail over your tummy, Loki kept his eyes on yours as he shucked your shorts, snorting, “No panties? Naughty!” “If that’s naughty, Loki, then what you’re doing to me is positively evil.” That made your lover grin, his eyebrows lifting in a wickedly Grinchy smile before caressing the inner skin of your thigh with his clever mouth. Slithering closer to your center, sweeping his tongue in swirls, you couldn’t help the excited shiver he created. It was enough to block out the terrible song now that you had something more arousing to hold your attention. Using those long, deft fingers, Loki parted your folds with a murmured moan, “You’re so wet, darling. Maybe you like this song more than you let on?” A curse for him and his rotten taste in Christmas music died in your throat as Loki connected to your sacred skin through a carnal kiss. Those strong forearms ensured that your knees stayed open wide as his tongue tasted, teasing your clenching cleft, humming with appreciation at your body’s response. Circling your clit, sucking gently before changing direction and licking your lower lips once more, Loki had you teetering on the cliff of climax in minutes.

Your stomach tensed, ready for release. Delicious waves of orgasmic bliss were pulsing through you, needing just a touch more friction, a little more pressure in order to crash over you. Gasping out incoherent whimpers, fingers ruffling Loki’s dark hair, you can’t fight the neediness that he’s created in you. It just feels so incredible, something Loki knows you’re enjoying, “Like that, darling?” Passion clouds your vision as your desire crests, unfulfilled, “You know I do, Loki…” Fingers slide sensually through your slit, his bright eyes on you, “How much? How much do you like it?” Shaking your head, still foggy with needs unmet, “So much, baby. I love making love to you so much.” Bumping against your swollen bud, pressing down firmly, Loki begins using his hands to entice you towards ecstasy. Two fingers enter you easily, delightful, sure, but not as filling as Loki’s hard member. Reaching for him, you want to lose yourself in loving and being loved by your space god, “Sing for me, dove.” Beseeching you breathlessly, Loki’s hand stills, keeping you at the fringe of falling apart. Waiting for your reply impatiently he asks again, “Sing, please.” “A song?” His reply is a shake of his dark head. Slowly, smoothly, Loki withdraws his fingers, only to press them into your yielding flesh once more, “Yes, my darling. Sing my favorite song!”

Sucking a bruise onto your inner thigh, those fingers of his spreading your walls, the exquisite pressure on your straining clitoris. Any one of these distractions would have been hard to concentrate through. Experiencing them all together? Overwhelming.

And that’s the excuse you would use to explain what happened next. “The party’s on… The feeling’s here…” As soon as the words left your lips, Loki’s attention resumed in earnest, “That’s it, dove! Keep going!” “That only comes, this time of year… Ah! Loki!” Loki watched you lustily. Your eyes half closed, legs splayed lewdly, a nervous grin on your face. He never wanted you more. Slipping out of his jeans, wasting no time, Loki guided his hardened cock into you with a satisfying sigh. Your response to his abundance? “Oh shit, Loki! Yes!” Snapping his hips against your pelvis, iron banded arms clinging to you, Loki stuttered, “I don’t hear you singing!” “We’re simply having a Wonderful Christmastime!” How many times did you repeat the chorus? Hard to say. It became a mantra. A thing to chant in time with everyone of Loki’s deliberate and deep thrusts. This time, when you felt the familiar stirring of your satisfaction, Loki didn’t stop you. Encouraging you with a soulful kiss, his stroke surging in time with Paul McCartney’s crooning, you came apart in each other’s arms with a smile. The song started again and you couldn’t stop the giggles from bursting out of you, “What’s so funny, dove?” “You said you could make me like this terrible, horrible, awful song.” Sitting up and taking you with him, Loki chuckled as he kissed your hand, “Hey, don’t make fun of the best holiday song I have ever heard.” Pulling your new blanket around the both of you, “I still hate it, but-”

“But?”, his eyebrow arched in surprise, waiting for you to continue.

“But I don’t hate it as much.” Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, playfully ribbing you, “Do I have to force you into having another Wonderful Christmastime?” Biting your bottom lip, you returned the favor by sweeping a stray lock of Loki’s black hair over his shoulder, “Babe, you could make crazy, insane love to me each day and every night… and-” “And?” Kissing Loki lightly on the nose, you stood up on shaky legs and started towards the hallway. At the entry way you turned back letting the blanket fall to the floor, “-And Wonderful Christmastime would still suck.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To My Many Minxes: @toomanystoriessolittletime @vodka-and-some-sass @just-random-obsessions @brokenthelovely @lots-of-loki @thefallenbibliophilequote @scrumptious-finicky-illusion @iamverity @mizfit2 @sammy-jo1977 @wolfsmom1 @jessiejunebug @iluvsumbucky @unadulteratedwizardlove @procrastinatinglikeabitch @shxdowofdarkness @nonsensicalobsessions @ahintofkiwistrawberry @alexakeyloveloki @rorybutnotgilmore @crystalizedcaramel @lokislittlecorner @capcapcapsicle @jamielea81 @caffiend-queen @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore @jenjen8675309 @that-one-person @roguewraith

#stephschristmaswritingchallenge #loki x you #loki x reader #loki smut #loki holiday #loki christmas #loki christmas smut #marvel smut #marvel holiday #marvel holiday smut

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howimproper · 3 years

Text

Ask Me No Questions (And I'll Tell You No Lies)

Fandom: The Yin-Yang Master: Dream of Eternity

Pairing: Qing Ming x Boya

Tags: Eventual Slash, Qing Ming Is A Little Shit, Naughty Language, Truth Magic, Except It's More Like Compulsion Magic, Compelled To Speak, #GayPanic, In This House Honey Bug We Stan, Admission Of FEELINGS, Unbeta’d We Die Like Boya’s Pride.

Summary: Boya gets hit with a truth spell. It goes about as well as you'd expect.

"I'm so sorry Master, I had no idea what it was when I picked it up!" Honey Bug wails from behind her hands, eyes wide and full of tears as she looks pleadingly at Qing Ming, who has found himself on the floor and somewhat entirely distracted by the dazed man in his arms.

"It's alright, Honey Bug, I don't think whatever it was is malicious." He assures his spirit guardian with a calming smile, who sniffles wetly and delicately dabs at her cheeks with the flowing length of her pink sleeve.

"I didn't sense anything from it, it was just a normal pin!" She explains in a rush, gesturing at the simple silver hair pin abandoned on the floor. Qing Ming sighs fondly and shakes his head.

"There's no real harm done, I think Boya is just fine." He says, while surreptitiously using the trailing length of his white sleeve to sweep the seemingly innocuous hair pin away, the length of metal skittering across the wooden floor before bouncing to a stop by the wall. Honey Bug watches it, lips wobbling.

"Speak for yourself, asshole." Both Spirit and Master jump at the unexpected announcement, and Qing Ming quickly returns his attention to the man stirring in his arms.

"Boya! How do you feel?" He asks concernedly, and is not wholly surprised when he is presented with one of the most delightfully unimpressed looks for his trouble. He quickly squashes the reflexive grin at the familiar expression on his companions face.

"Like I just got kicked in the head." Boya spits in response, before blinking in bewilderment. Qing Ming sighs and shakes his head good naturedly as he carefully shifts Boya in his arms, helping him to sit up from where they are both sprawled on the floor. He might have reacted a touch... strongly when Boya had collapsed suddenly and without warning.

"That's to be expected, I think. I'm not sure what kind of talisman it is but it's not harmful." Qing Ming replies easily, and it's the truth. When the talisman had activated in Honey Bug's hands he had not sensed anything untoward- Boya however, had reacted quick as a snake and struck the pin from his Spirits hands regardless, likely acting instinctively at the brief flare of foreign energy. In doing so however he had been the last one in contact with the pin before the spell went off.

"If I start turning unnatural colours or grow extra limbs I'll be blaming you." Boya huffs as he quickly disengages from Qing Ming's arms, to his utter disappointment.

Boya climbs to feet, waving off Honey Bug's steadying hands when he teeters. Qing Ming pouts as he too, rises.

"Come now, Boya, I hardly see how these theoretic outcomes would be my fault." He complains even as he smiles. Boya fixes him with a mildly deadpan look even as he swipes non-existent dust from his leathers, and Qing Ming barely resists cooing. Such expressions his companion can make, it's truly a delight.

He pointedly ignores Honey Bug hastily raising her sleeve to hide her mouth to the side of them.

"Don't be cute, it confuses me." Boya mutters, before snapping his mouth shut with a brief, mortified look on his face. Qing Ming blinks at him in surprise even as perplexed amusement bubbles up inside him.

"Boya, I wasn't aware you found me so confusing." He just barely manages not to titter, and Boya must see right through him, because he levels him with a dirty look before scoffing.

"As if you aren't completely aware of what you do to me." The words have barely left Boya's lips before he jerks as if struck, and swiftly slaps a hand over his own mouth. Honey Bug makes a choked, wheezing sound behind her sleeve, but Qing Ming is too startled to notice.

“And what do you mean by that?” Qing Ming enquires somewhat uncertainly. He has always been certain that Boya took his teasing in stride, knew that his often improper remarks were said in jest (usually, he can’t help himself sometimes, the flirting just happens), but if he had said or done something recently to make his companion truly uncomfortable he cannot think of it.

“Have I offended you in some way, Boya?” He asks, because if he has he wants to know so he can correct it post haste. He does not want the object of his much lamented affections upset with him for something he could have prevented. He doesn’t think he could handle Boya being honestly upset with him.

Boya’s hand abruptly tightens over his mouth, his brows drawing together in a strained frown that has Qing Ming instantly concerned. He opens his mouth to ask what is wrong only to be interrupted by Boya’s other hand snapping up and pointing a single finger in his face. He pauses, mouth working silently for a moment and goes to ask- only for Boya to scowl at him. He closes his mouth, correctly if confusedly interpreting a request for his silence. They stand there awkwardly for a moment as Boya visibly struggles with something, Qing Ming maintaining his perplexed silence as he looks between his straining companion and Honey Bug, who is still hiding behind her sleeve. He narrows his eyes at her. Honey Bug’s eyes curve up at the edges over the curtain of her sleeve. Oh dear.

Finally, Boya lowers his still rudely pointing finger before tentatively removing his hand from his face, the action so cautious he might as well have been going finger by finger. He pauses like that for a moment, hand still hovering near his mouth, before seemingly deciding the danger has passed.

“This is a gods be damned truth spell.” He says, sounding so greatly put upon that Qing Ming can’t help but laugh in such fond delight as his concerns evaporate.

“Oh Boya, you had me so worried for a moment.” He chuckles, and Boya rolls his eyes before turning on his heel, gaze downcast and scanning the floor. He spots the pin by the wall and strides over to it before stooping to snatch it up, uncaring of potentially activating it a second time as he is already under its effects. He turns the innocent looking accessory between his fingers, examining it with a keen eye for any markings or script that might shed some light on its purpose or perhaps how to reverse the spell.

Honey Bug shifts in place for a moment before finally emerging from behind her sleeve and, as if nothing had occurred, gracefully glides for the doors.

“I’ll fetch some tea.” She declares, and Boya grunts as he continues to scour every inch of the hair pin, fingers carefully feeling over the dips and swirls in the silver.

“I’d rather something stronger.” He says absently, and Qing Ming bites his lips to suppress the snicker that tries to escape him.

“Boya, it’s hardly noon.” He teases, trying for scandalized but only managing blatant amusement. Boya looks up from the pin-come-talisman in his hands and glares at him.

“I don’t give a fuck.” He says, with feeling, before his eyes drift to the ceiling and slide closed in mortification. Qing Ming’s lips wobble, and he knows he probably shouldn’t but he can’t pass up the opportunity-

“How improper.” Boya’s eyes pop open and drop to level him with a look, and Qing Ming thinks smittenly that if looks could kill he might be laughing himself sick in the afterlife right now.

“You’d be surprised.” Is the entirely unexpected retort. Qing Ming gapes, and Boya thumps himself solidly in the chest once as if beating out a cough. “Ignore that.” He snaps, clearing his throat. But no, he will not, because now Qing Ming is intrigued.

“Oh?” He prompts before he can think better of it, and Boya brandishes the hair pin threateningly. Qing Ming steps back with a smile, raising his hands in surrender as he retreats to his desk, lowering himself to the cushion behind it with a soft laugh. Oh, but Boya makes it too easy sometimes, Qing Ming thinks as absently rests an elbow on his knee, honestly he can’t help but poke at him when he presents Qing Ming with so many opportunities like this, truth spell or no. Though it’s another thing altogether with its effects, Qing Ming notes as he leans his head on his knuckles to watch as Boya quietly runs qi coated fingers over the pin.

Boya is usually so reserved with his responses that suddenly being privy to his true thoughts is… he hesitates to say nice because it’s not something his companion can actually help right now but it… is definitely eye opening. He knows of course that there is much more to Boya than he allows others to see, that there do in fact exist normal, mundane thoughts in his head just as any other man despite how sometimes Boya himself seems to forget that he is in fact just that. But Qing Ming has witnessed with his own eyes how others fall into the easy mindset of believing him some aloof, untouchable figure that exists solely for duty.

It saddens him greatly that Boya feels that kind of need to distance himself from others in such a way, but he can’t say that he doesn’t understand. Qing Ming has his own ways of distancing himself, after all. He doesn’t here though, and never with Boya. He isn’t normally so free with his words around others, Boya might even be horrified to realize that Qing Ming is actually unfailingly polite in most other company, but he has never felt the need with Boya even from the first day they had met and fought over a pippa. There had just always been something about him that dropped Qing Ming’s guard which, he thinks somewhat sardonically, should have been the first red flag of his budding infatuation, now long since watered and grown into something he sometimes struggles with keeping contained.

“What’s with the face?” Boya enquires out of the blue, and Qing Ming blinks out of his thoughts with a questioning sound. Boya has apparently come to the conclusion that he won’t find any answers from the pin itself and has since pocketed it and returned his attention to him. Having been so thoroughly absorbed in his thoughts Qing Ming hadn’t noticed any of it, or that he has since spent the last several moments staring. He hopes his face hadn’t given his thoughts away too much, but since when has he ever been that lucky.

“What face?” He deflects easily and watches, entertained beyond belief as Boya’s face goes through a myriad of fascinating micro expressions as he evidently tries his absolute best not to just blurt out his true thoughts without first filtering them.

“Here’s the tea, Master.” Honey Bug announces with positively diabolical timing as she abruptly breezes back into the room with a tray in her hands. Qing Ming is not waylaid enough by her arrival to miss the look of profound relief that briefly crosses Boya’s face at the distraction, and dimly wonders what possible thought he might have been trying to keep behind his teeth to warrant such a reaction. Curious, very curious.

Honey Bug sets the tray down on his desk and sets about pouring the faintly floral smelling brew into the cups before carefully distributing them, one set delicately in front of Qing Ming and one opposite him for Boya. He thanks her with a smile and cheerfully ignores the glint in her eye as she returns it and rises to leave them alone once more.

Grasping his cup, Qing Ming allows the heat to seep into his fingers for a moment before taking a careful sip, humming constantly at the flavour as Boya lowers himself to sit opposite him.

“We need to figure out how to break this spell.” Boya grumbles as he reaches for his own cup, eying it in faint displeasure for a moment before drinking. Clearly, he had truly wanted something stronger. Qing Ming contemplates retrieving the wine he may or may not have stashed in the cupboard behind him.

“It might very well be a simple matter of time, Boya.” He replies honestly. It might very well be so, the spell itself is a harmless one, if inconvenient, and tethered to such an innocuous item that he truly does not believe it was one made with any ill intent behind it. Likely a talisman made in jest, or to perhaps prove a point. Either way he doesn’t think they need to be hitting the scrolls for counterspells or worrying too much about it just yet. Boya, clearly, disagrees.

“I don’t want to wait it out, Qing Ming.” He almost whines, and Qing Ming raises his eyebrows.

“Something to hide, my friend?” He asks cheekily, and is instantly intrigued by the sudden blush that tinges Boya’s ears.

“Yes.” Boya chokes out, before delving into his tea, as if burning his mouth out will ward off any further ill restrained words. Qing Ming’s eyebrows have yet to descend from his hairline, and he watches his companion drain his cup with curiosity. He thinks he should perhaps tone it down a bit for Boya’s sake, but the man hasn’t actually expressed any real ire at his prodding yet, and Qing Ming trusts that if he oversteps Boya will say so or simply remove himself from the situation. He thinks that, if he were truly making his friend uncomfortable, the spell would ensure he is made aware by prompting Boya to tell him off, as he would clearly wish to.

And to be frank, it would take a better man than Qing Ming to resist.

Deciding to take some mercy on his companion, Qing Ming drops his hand from his temple and straightens to refill their cups, and idly comments-

“You’re taking all this with more grace than I might have expected, Boya.” Only because if it had been Qing Ming struck with the spell, he might have sent Boya fleeing for the hills to escape whatever inane prattle he might fail to suppress- or, heavens forbid, announce his affections. Ah. Probably for the best it wasn’t him. He takes a hasty sip of his refilled cup to hide the sudden heat in his face.

“Barely,” Boya mumbles into his cup, “Just when I think I’ve got a handle on it, words happen.” He hisses as he lowers his tea to glare off to the side. Qing Ming hums.

“Ah, the woes of the mortal man.” He replies with amusement, and is charmed by the scowl and quiet fuck off he gets in reply. “It’s not too terrible, is it?” He asks lightly, and gestures to his companion. “We’ve known each other long enough to not be offended by some trivial truths between us.” It’s actually quite refreshing. Boya is not one to lie, this he knows very well, but he is guilty of habitually omitting certain things or simply keeping his own counsel on matters. To hear his honest thoughts for a change is quite the treat.

“You don’t offend me.” Boya says, and by the lack of any reaction to his own words Qing Ming takes it as a willing admission that warms him. He smiles.

“I’m glad. I do worry sometimes that I may take my teasing too far,” He admits in return, “I don’t want to bother you or make you uncomfortable.” And he really doesn’t, despite literally everything he says to the man sometimes. He values Boya far too much to ever risk driving him away, and Qing Ming doesn’t think he would be able to bear it if he ever did.

“I don’t mind.” Boya mutters as he fiddles with his cup, before taking a sip. But not before adding, “I love you too much for you to ever bother me.” Qing Ming freezes, startled at the almost absent words, and Boya apparently registers what he had just said, because he promptly chokes on his tea. Stunned, Qing Ming can only stare as Boya coughs loudly into his arm, reflexive tears wetting his lashes as he tries to clear the tea from his lungs.

Boya hastily slams his cup down on the desk, and the sharp sound startles Qing Ming out of his daze.

“Boya-” He tries, but for once, words fail him. He replays the last few seconds over in his head, and then does it again and again until the words are chasing themselves in circles within his mind.

“I love you too much for you to ever bother me.”

Qing Ming thinks he might have played the remark off as a jest or perhaps an exaggeration if Boya had uttered these words any day before today, but his still spluttering companion is currently under the influence of a truth spell. However unwittingly he had said it, Boya had meant it.

Boya loves him.

The realization is almost enough for him to drop his cup, but Qing Ming quickly fumbles it to the safety of his desk before he can do so. Opposite him, Boya is climbing to his feet, coughing fit subsiding as he hastily turns away from him and makes for the door, and Qing Ming jolts, because Boya is fleeing.

After admitting that he loves him.

Qing Ming’s knee catches the edge of his desk as he scrambles to his feet, but he hardly notices the brief flare of pain as he all but jumps over it in his haste to catch his fleeing companion.

“Boya, wait-” He calls, and reaches out to quickly snag Boya’s arm before he can clear the doors, tugging him to a stop and urging him to turn around. Boya stops, but he doesn’t turn, and Qing Ming decides he’ll take it.

“I didn’t mean to say that.” Boya grits out, panicked, and Qing Ming could snort because that much is obvious.

“Boya-” He starts, only to be interrupted.

“I did mean it that way.” Boya blurts, before attempting to snatch his arm from Qing Ming’s grip to no avail, and growling. “Didn’t. Fuck.” He curses, and Qing Ming laughs softly, shaking his head fondly and decidedly not letting go of his arm. “Don’t laugh, this isn’t funny!” Boya snaps, still refusing to turn and face him, but Qing Ming isn’t laughing at him, he’s laughing at himself. How blind he has been.

“Boya-” Qing Ming tries again, gently-

“I told you I didn’t want to wait out this stupid spell.” Boya spits. Qing Ming sighs and tries to tug him around, but his panicking companion stubbornly holds his ground. And he is, panicking, that is, either abjectly mortified at his own honesty or spooked by whatever reaction he thinks will be forthcoming, or a mixture of both. Either way Qing Ming will need to calm him down before there can be any further discussion that doesn’t end with him bolting.

“Yes, because you were afraid you’d do exactly as you just did.” Qing Ming replies reasonably, and Boya makes a vaguely embarrassed noise and tries to pull his arm free again. Qing Ming does not allow it.

“Forget I said anything, it’s the spell.” He tries, and Qing Ming snorts because it’s a poor deflection and they both know it. Fed up, Qing Ming yanks Boya around, the man apparently unprepared for the force he puts behind the pull because he turns with it in surprise, and Qing Ming releases his arm and grabs him by the lapels of his leathers to hold him still.

“You love me.” He states, catching Boya’s eyes with his tone carefully blank despite the tide of emotion currently trying to drown him. Boya swallows, and almost looks away before apparently deciding against it, clenching his teeth so tight Qing Ming can see the flex of muscle in his jaw. He remains stubbornly silent. Qing Ming tries a different approach. He tightens his grip and leans in, close enough to feel the warmth of Boya’s breath as he exhales in surprise.

“You love me?” He asks.

“Yes.” Boya breathes, eyes fixed unerringly on his face, and Qing Ming makes some sort of noise in his chest (he honestly can’t say what, but it’s embarrassing) and kisses him. Boya jerks, startled, before he just...melts into him, and kisses back.

The kiss is languid, and Qing Ming quickly decides that kissing Boya is his new favorite pastime. He clings to the lapels of Boya’s leathers, almost afraid to let go, and Boya responds by sliding his hands over Qing Ming’s hips, wrapping his arms around his waist and tugging him against him. Qing Ming hums contentedly against his lips.

Suddenly, Boya winces, and Qing Ming pulls back to frown at him in concern.

“What is it?” He asks, and Boya blinks rapidly for a moment before shaking his head slowly.

“Nothing.” Boya replies, somehow very pointedly, and then sighs in relief. “Oh thank the gods.” He mutters, and Qing Ming blinks.

“Ah,” He says, “The spell?” He guesses. Boya nods, looking entirely too relieved, and Qing Ming’s lips twitch up. “A bit late for that.” He teases, and Boya rolls his eyes, before tugging him back in for another kiss. Yes. Yes he thinks he’s definitely found a new pastime.

Out in the hall, Honey Bug dusts her hands of imaginary dirt, and smiles.

Fin

#qing ming x boya #the yin-yang master: dream of eternity #qing ming #boya #honey bug #my dumb writing #wrote this instead of sleeping #oh no its cute #aaahhh #Honey bug you sneaky little shit #i love you

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groovyzombiellama · 3 years

Text

Grand Duchess' Love

Title: Grand Duchess' Love

Requested? Yes.

Plot: Our protagonist, Alice, younger sister of Nicholas II, hears Giselle singing and slowly starts falling in love with her, and even starts mimicking some of Giselle’s weird behaviour like brushing her hair with a fork, which worries her brother and their cousings Wilhelm II and George V, so they talk to her and comfort her after finding out what is happening.

Warnings: slight mentions of the main character wanting to die because of the society not accepting two women being in love (this in no way represents my views, I’m a believer in love and that everyone has the right to love who they want, regardless of gender, but the request said to add this due to the time period this fic is taking place in, so anything I write about the society is not how I feel in any way- and since it’s pride month I figured to tell you all- I am heteroflexible, and I’m a bit new to the concept, so please be nice)

Words: 1609

---***---

Alice stopped in her tracks when she heard a beautiful voice singing as she walked through the town, on her way home, and she felt compelled to find out who this voice belongs to. It was coming from a nearby house and Alice could make out a female figure through the shadow over the curtains in one of the lit windows. She was intrigued, and felt her heart start picking up speed as she watched the figure sway through the room, and past the few windows that she had looking into her room, her hand automatically reaching out to clutch her chest. She has always felt attracted to woman a bit more than men, but she always kept it hidden from everyone, knowing the society would never accept a woman loving another woman. She hated that people saw a woman having feelings towards another woman as something bad, and even sinful, when it’s no different than man/woman relationships, the only difference being the genders are the same. One must always be ready to progress, otherwise the world will never be a happy place if people are scrutinised for loving someone. Usually she would just put her feelings to the side and do everything to make them go away, but this time it felt as if she was enchanted by this girl and wanted to get to know her, just by hearing her beautiful voice.

And once the woman opened the curtains to look out into the street, it was like time stopped for Alice and her heart was now beating so loud it was almost as if it was going to jump out of her chest. The way the woman’s long red hair flowed down in curles, gently waving by in the cool summer breeze, her baby blue dress hugging her body in all the right places, and a beautiful heart necklace dangling from her neck. Alice could hear the beat of her heart in her ears and her mind was clouded, everything else blurring and losing importance, the only thing she could see clearly was the beautiful red haired woman and she finally understood what love at first sight felt like. In her daze, she didn’t even notice that the red haired woman looked in her direction and smiled, but she knew that her smile made her weak in the knees. Soon enough she snapped out of her daze as she noticed the woman had left her window and was now exiting her front door and coming towards Alice.

Alice brushed through her hair with her fingers quickly, straightening her dress, hoping she doesn’t look like a stalker. If she had creeped her out, she would feel awful. But that same warm smile she had when she first looked over at Alice from her window was still present on her face as she asked Alice if she was alright. Nodding, Alice painted a smile on her own face, feeling comfortable with her, despite only seeing her now for the first time. The red haired woman introduces herself as Giselle and the two spark a conversation, Alice’s nervousness slowly washing away, as she gets more and more comfortable. Even though the two of them are enjoying their conversation, a few passers by in the street give them a weird look when Giselle reaches out to brush a stray hair behind Alice’s ear, and Alice sees that from the corner of her eye, and it has her cheeks flushing, but not at the fact that they saw them, because they were not doing anything wrong, but at the softness of Giselle’s skin against hers.

Alice spent all night thinking about Giselle. The two had made plans to see each other again, maybe go for a walk or shopping or something, and in time, as the two grew closer, their feelings grew also. Alice will never be able to understand how she summed up the courage to tell Giselle about her feelings one night as they were hanging out at Giselle’s house, and she expected her to tell her that they shouldn’t be together, that they should hide from the world, or that they should stop seeing each other completely. But the one thing that she didn’t expect is for Giselle to surge forward and connect their lips. It made warmth spread all across her body and although she as tense at first, she soon melted into the kiss and her hands went up to cup Giselle’s cheeks. They were both beaming in happiness once they parted and the more time they spent together, the closer they got. Alice’s brother Nicholas was a bit worried about his sister when he saw her brushing her hair with a fork and dancing with one of her dresses. He figured to talk to her about it, but he got the shock of his life when his cousin George told him that Alice is in the hospital a week after he had noticed her odd behaviour.

It was close to year since Giselle and Alice met, and about three months since they kissed for the first time, and no matter how much Giselle assured her, Alice would always feel like people were judging her when she left Giselle’s apartment, she worried when they walked together that people can see the tiny moments when Giselle reached out to touch her fingers with her own. She felt like people could notice their swollen lips, when they left for a walk having previously kissed in the house. And it was driving her crazy. She somehow just couldn’t let it go and live her life the way she should. But being the grand duchess meant eyes were on her a lot more than usual woman, and she never was really a fan of being the center of attention, much less now. And that prompted her to want to end it all, her dark thoughts getting the better of her, as she felt like dying was the best way to stop overthinking about what the society thought of her love life.

Nicholas and his two cousins rushed to the hospital to see Alice, praying that she was alright.

“Why did you do this? What caused you to feel like you have to do this?“

Wilhelm was the first to speak as the three men rushed to her bedside. Nicholas stayed in the back, his mind still trying to wrap itself around why his little sister would want to end her life.

“I wanted to die. I wanted this pain to be over. Giselle deserves better, someone who will not be afraid of being with her.“

And that’s when Alice told her brother and cousins everything, about Giselle and her love for her and so Nicholas put two and two together and realised that Giselle was the reason his sister was smiling a lot more lately and all around a lot happier. And it made him even more thankful that she was still here with them, because he wouldn’t be able to bear the pain if he had lost her. She was his younger sister, his little princess, and she deserved to love and be loved and not have to answer to anyone for it.

“Please never do that again, you scared us so much!“

George says, holding one of Alice’s hands as Wilhelm holds the other. Nicholas uses all his power to keep in the tears that are threatenning to escape his eyes at seeing his sister so weak and fragile. He also approaches her bed, sitting down next to George, reaching out to brush his fingers through his sister’s hair, before placing a kiss on her forehead.

“It doesn’t matter what society thinks, you are not in the wrong to love another woman. You are my sister and I will always accept you no matter what, others are not relevant in your life so you shouldn’t care so much about their opinions.“

He tells her, George and Wilhelm confirming that they too will always accept her, earining a smile from their sister and cousin. They were not gonna let anything make her unhappy again. Wilhelm and George arrange for someone to bring Giselle to the hospital to visit Alice, while Nicholas keeps her company and tells her how much he cares for her and that he can’t wait to meet the woman who stole his little sister’s heart. At first the three men were shocked, but they soon realised that nothing will stop them from loving Alice and that they would be devastated if something happened to her.

Alice is shocked when she sees Giselle enter the room, and after meeting her brother and cousins, the sight warming her heart and painting a wide smile onto her features, the shock melts away and she is content. Giselle scolds her a bit for worrying her and her family so much, before telling her she loves her and that she never wants to lose her.

“I love you too Giselle, so much.“

Alice says and closes her eyes as she feels the woman she loves lean in and press her lips onto hers. Nicholas, Wilhelm and George were right, she should stop thinking other people’s opinion has any bearing on her life. If they choose not to like it and accept it than so be it, but that doesn’t mean that she is supposed to live her life the way other people want, and she planned to live her life to the fullest, alongside the woman she loves. It will no longer matter if the society thinks it’s gross, weird or sinful, nobody should dictate Alice’s life other than Alice herself.

---***---

@alicependragon73 I hope you like it :) <3 It took me a while to complete, but I was so intrigued by the story I had to write it :D

Buy me a coffee? : https://ko-fi.com/groovyzombiellama

#the kings men #the kings men imagine #wilhelm ii #george v #wilhelm II imagine #wilhelm II x reader #nicholas ii #nicholas II imagine #Nicholas II x reader #george V imagine #george V x reader #didnt know what to put in tags sorry #giselle #giselle enchanted #giselle enchanted imagine #giselle enchanted x reader #female x female #HAPPY PRIDE MONTH TO ALL MY LGBTQ+ READERS

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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years

Text

Pastime (with good company) (ao3) (aka NMJ/WWX/LWJ) - part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, past 5, part 6, part 7

Wei Wuxian still wasn’t sure how Lan Wangji had convinced him to come to Qinghe in the middle of the night, even flying through the middle of a thunderstorm to get there.

Possibly he’d still been thinking with his lower half at the time that he’d agreed – he’d been so close to the edge, skating on it, holding himself back intentionally so that the eventual peak would be even better, and to have it snatched away at the last moment had been brutal.

Or maybe it had been the panic in Lan Wangji’s eyes. The worry, the fear.

The realization that someone knew.

He hadn’t been all that concerned with pleasure after that.

“You can’t tell anyone,” he’d begged, desperate. “Please, Lan Zhan – not anyone! No one can know!”

Lan Wangji had wavered, seeing how much it mattered to him and wanting to honor his wishes, wanting to help him - Lan Wangji always wanted to help him - but also needing to share the unexpected burden. In the end he had insisted: “One person. Wei Ying, a marriage cannot be founded on a lie.”

Nothing else in the world would have worked to convince him, given the risks of disclosure, the risk that if more people knew that the secret would get out, that Jiang Cheng would find out, but that –

That did.

Lan Wangji was right: it was one thing to enter a marriage for convenience, for political gain; if that was all there was to it, then Wei Wuxian wouldn’t have needed to say anything. He could have hidden it forever, refused to dual cultivate beyond acting as a passive vessel; he could have presented himself in the marriage not as Wei Wuxian but as the Yiling Patriach, with all the benefits and disadvantages that came with it, and that would be that.

But it wasn’t just that.

Maybe it started out that way, but it wasn’t that way now. Not with the way Nie Mingjue had smiled at him, the way he’d looked at him, intense and serious, after that spar – the discussion they’d had afterwards, when he’d raised his proposal again, serious this time, that they would all marry, the three of them. When he had made clear that his offer could be rejected at will without insult, that he meant it as something that was not for politics, not for need, just…to be married. To be together, the three of them, all three of them, to exchange bows and vow to live together as husbands for the rest of their lives, simply because they wanted to.

Nie Mingjue and Lan Wangji both - they’d been clear about what they wanted, and they wanted a marriage with Wei Wuxian, and not his reputation.

Lan Wangji was right.

A marriage like that – a marriage like the ones his parents had, when his mother had picked an outstanding servant over all the other more promising or well-respected men she could have had simply because he made her laugh, the type of marriage he’d always dreamed of, the type he’d always wanted for himself – couldn’t be founded on a lie.

And so they were on their way to Qinghe.

The journey was long, even by sword, even for someone with cultivation as high as Lan Wangji. Wei Wuxian had not enjoyed flying on a sword since the he’d been thrown into the Burial Mounds, refusing Wen Qing’s occasional well-intentioned offers; he tried to get some enjoyment out of the fact that his arms were wrapped around Lan Wangji’s waist, his front pressed up against Lan Wangji’s back (he wondered if Lan Wangji would let him rut up against him like this, put himself between those white thighs until they were dirty –) but even the most sexually charged fantasies faded away into the cold reality that he was going to need to talk about this.

And that was before it started raining.

The last shichen of the trip was in complete silence, and only the warmth of Lan Wangji’s hand against his, his spiritual energy flowing calmly between them, kept Wei Wuxian from true panic. And then they were in Qinghe, landing in front of the door, and the guards at the gate were letting them in and then –

Nie Mingjue was there, waiting the entry hall.

Beautiful Nie Mingjue, who was only half-dressed, his hair unbound and with only an outer robe over his underclothing that he’d thrown on but hadn’t bothered to belt before rushing to the doorway, concern clearly written all over his face.

“What happened?” he asked.

“There’s no emergency,” Wei Wuxian said, and when Lan Wangji turned to glare at him, he raised his hands. “There isn’t! It’s been like this for months, Lan Zhan, and nothing will change if we let Mingjue-xiong get some sleep; we really didn’t have to fly here in the middle of the night –”

“To confirm – no attack has broken out, and no one is imminently dying?” Nie Mingjue interrupted.

Even Lan Wangji was forced to nod at that.

“In that case, you can come inside and have some tea while you explain,” Nie Mingjue said, waving his hand at one of the deputies that was lingering there. “I don’t mind being awake at this hour, but our sentries saw you coming through the storm and I thought it might be a situation where we would need to raise the army.”

Wei Wuxian’s shoulders hunched up. He should have thought about that, they both should have thought about that: Nie Mingjue was not merely a sect leader but a general, not merely a general but the leader of the Sunshot Campaign, the general that had given orders to generals; of course he would think first of war. “Nothing like that.”

“My apologies,” Lan Wangji said. “Our urgency was only my eagerness.”

“Don’t apologize,” Nie Mingjue said briskly. “Matters can be urgent even without a battle; it’s only a question of scale. Follow me.”

He led them to a small receiving room – it wasn’t the one usually used for guests, which Wei Wuxian had been to before, but something more intimate, warmer: the wooden furniture was sparse in the way it always was in Qinghe, with a restrained sort of charm, but there were intricate metal whorls on the walls that caught the eye and soft tapestries that made the cold stone feel less hostile.

“All right,” Nie Mingjue said as he strode into the room. “There’s tea in the corner; one of you can prepare it. Now tell me what the matter is.”

Wei Wuxian looked at him.

“…perhaps Sect Leader Nie would like to get dressed first?” he suggested, a little desperately.

It was a stalling method, yes, but also – really. There was a certain amount of stress a man could be under at one time, and trying to actually tell someone about everything that had happened would be bad enough without having to also figure out how not to stare at the part of Nie Mingjue’s white under-robes that had started gaping open at the chest, a glimpse of supple flesh and the barest hint of pink –

Nie Mingjue huffed, though it was unclear whether it was out of annoyance or recognition of the effect he was having. “Very well. Wangji, the tea?”

The second he left, Wei Wuxian turned to Lan Wangji. “I know we’re here for a very serious reason and we’re going to need to talk about things and all that, but you saw that, right?”

Lan Wangji’s ears went red.

“Oh, you saw it all right,” Wei Wuxian said, and grinned. “Did it make you want to bite?”

“Wei Ying.”

“All right, all right, I’ll stop. And yes, I’ll – I’ll explain. To both of you.”

A marriage cannot be built on a lie.

Wei Wuxian wanted this marriage to work. He wanted it to be a partnership, like the one his parents had, not – not what Uncle Jiang and Madame Yu had.

The only way he could get what he wanted was if he told them the truth: that he had lost (given up) his golden core during the war, that he could no longer cultivate the orthodox path of the sword, that demonic cultivation was not only a choice but a mandate.

(They didn’t need to know about Jiang Cheng.)

When Nie Mingjue returned, now fully dressed and his hair pulled back in the simplest possible crown, no braids or anything, Wei Wuxian didn’t hesitate.

Nie Mingjue and Lan Wangji were mercifully silent during his explanation, interrupting only long enough to ask some questions – good ones, thoughtful ones. Some were aimed at understanding more of what he went through in the Burial Mounds, while others gently pointed out flaws in his story, sometimes embarrassing ones; if he were ever to tell this story to others, he would need to cover those up better.

They knew he was hiding something, but they let him hide it.

They trusted him.

(Maybe he would tell them about Jiang Cheng after all. But – not yet.)

When he finished, they were quiet for a long moment.

“Thank you for telling me,” Nie Mingjue finally said, and he meant it, too; he was Nie Mingjue, he didn’t say things lightly. If he was angry, he would have shown it, just as he had when Wei Wuxian had described what Wen Chao had done to him before rushing ahead and making clear that Wen Qing had helped him (a deliberate blurring of the timeline, but there was nothing he could do about it) but now there was no anger anywhere on his face, just thoughtfulness. “It explains – a great deal.”

Lan Wangji nodded in agreement, and Wei Wuxian felt the stickiness of guilt: would Lan Wangji think of all those times he’d begged Wei Wuxian to come with him to Gusu, to stop using demonic cultivation, and think himself a fool? Would he think Wei Wuxian had been laughing at him, knowing it was impossible?

He wouldn’t, of course, but Wei Wuxian felt guilty regardless.

“Not to get stuck on technical matters,” Nie Mingjue continued, “but curiosity compels me to ask. What forging are you using as the channel?”

Whatever Wei Wuxian might have expected Nie Mingjue to say, whether scolding or sympathy or even pity, it wasn’t that.

He didn’t even understand that.

“What?” he said blankly.

“Is it that seal of yours? Or something else?”

“Forging?” Lan Wangji asked. He looked as confused as Wei Wuxian. “Wei Ying uses his flute to cultivate.”

Nie Mingjue’s frown deepened. “Resentful energy corrodes the protections of the souls if used for too long without a venting channel – without a proper outlet, the corrosion will build up in the meridians and dantian, and will ultimately lead to a backlash…are you saying you aren’t using one at all?”

“Are you saying you know about the effects of resentful energy?” Wei Wuxian asked, eyes lighting up. “I’ve never heard anything about venting, corrosion, or build-up – though it makes sense, actually, given some of the other aspects of resentful energy that I’ve observed or theorized. Gathering resentful energy has an exponential effect, the reason why a bunch of drownings in one place don’t just make more water ghouls, but a Waterborne Abyss, and why a battlefield is easier to raise than a single grave…everyone says demonic cultivation affects the temperament, but there’s never any detail. I haven’t been able to find any books on it.”

“Nor I,” Lan Wangji said. “Even in the forbidden portion of the clan library.”

“There aren’t many books,” Nie Mingjue agreed. “Demonic cultivation is well known to be forbidden, so most of the knowledge is handed down orally.”

Lan Wangji’s back got even straighter, if that was even possible, and Wei Wuxian understood the implication a second later: the Nie sect had always been a bit of an outlier from the other sects, Qinghe with its reputation for oddity, with its strange rituals and bizarre customs, its pride in having descended from butchers, a bloody profession associated with resentment, rather than gentry –

“You use demonic cultivation,” Wei Wuxian breathed.

“Not the way you use it, we don’t,” Nie Mingjue said dryly. “Let us not take away from the magnitude of your achievement in creating an entirely new cultivation path, Wei Wuxian, and one that can be used by those who cannot cultivate in the traditional fashion no less. We do not cultivate the ability to manipulate fierce corpses through their resentful energy, I’d never even heard of such a thing before, but we do utilize resentful energy in a fashion that other sects do not.”

“What do you use it for?” Lan Wangji asked. He looked as fascinated as Wei Wuxian was – really, he wasn’t that hard to read at all, once you had an idea of what to look for. All of his expressions were in the little things, the way his eyes curved or narrowed, the redness of his ears, the corners of his lips.

Nie Mingjue’s fingers flicked, a seemingly casual movement, but only a few seconds later the door slammed open as his saber flew into the room, hovering for a moment before whistling through the air as it made its way to Nie Mingjue’s hand.

Wei Wuxian turned to stare.

“The personal quarters of the Nie clan aren’t anywhere near this hall,” he said slowly. “You clearly left your saber behind when you came to greet us, which I appreciate as a gesture of trust even though we wouldn’t have taken insult if you did…you summoned it all the way from here, and it came on its own? How could you guide it through all those hallways without using hand seals?”

“For something so straightforward, Baxia does not require guidance,” Nie Mingjue said, and held the saber out lengthwise for them to look at. “You asked what we use resentful energy for: this is the answer.”

“Only the most powerful spiritual weapons have enough awareness to recognize their masters,” Lan Wangji said, leaning forward. His eyes were bright with curiosity, with not a trace of judgment for the unorthodoxy they were discussing, and Wei Wuxian would spare some time to think about how beautiful Lan Wangji was in full scholar mode if he wasn’t equally entranced by Nie Mingjue’s revelations. “Much less find their way through a complicated series of hallways when their master wants them, without even a single hand seal acting as a summon…the Nie sect’s sabers have always been regarded as the finest weapons one can use against resentful beasts.”

“Very good as always, Wangji,” Nie Mingjue said, and Lan Wangji looked pleased at the recognition. “The founder of our sect was a butcher as well as a cultivator. As you know, occupations that require blood are notoriously considered bad for cultivation, the resentful energy from the work affecting their temperament and potential – take the traditional example of the fate of the executioner, who might arise as a fierce corpse despite lacking any resentments of his own. But my ancestor realized that the resentful energy of the beasts he slaughtered could be channeled not in the wielder of the saber, but the saber itself, and in doing so it would grow more powerful in its own right – power that could then be used to supplement the traditional orthodoxy of the dao of the sword and saber.”

Wei Wuxian’s brain was bubbling full of new ideas that had never even occurred to him before. The approach wasn’t as unorthodox as his own cultivation, nor perhaps would it be as reviled – the resentful energy of yao would be far less pernicious than the type he used, which came from humans, and using it as a whetstone to sharpen a sword’s spirit was far less intrusive than manipulating it directly as if it were spiritual energy – but it was fascinatingly different from everything he’d grown up hearing.

“What’s the cost?” he asked, because that was important. There had to be a cost, something the Nie sect was willing to pay that others weren’t, or else the secret would have gotten out at some point and become widespread.

“The difficulty in managing the process as the saber strengthens,” Nie Mingjue said. “The saber can store resentful energy, but we are the ones to cultivate it; it passes through us, and in time the strain will become too much unless we break through the limits of our cultivation and reach the heavens in a single bound. We trade the latter half of our lives for the power to make a difference in the first.”

“Qi deviation,” Lan Wangji murmured. All the Nie sect leaders had died of it, eventually; the fact of it was well known.

“Every generation tries some new means to mitigate it, some of which work better than others,” Nie Mingjue said with a shrug. “I had meant to make it clear to both of you before the wedding, but chances are high that the two of you will outlive me – though with luck the time is still some distance off.”

Wei Wuxian’s fingers curled together into fists in his lap, and he sees the stiffness in Lan Wangji’s spine that has nothing to do with pride; he didn’t need to share glances with him to know that they were both in violent agreement that something would need to be done about that.

After all, neither of them were interested in becoming widows, and together they could do marvelous things, unthinkable things – especially if Lan Wangji were willing, as Wei Wuxian for the very first time thought he might be, to help him research the more esoteric possibilities, to delve into the mysteries of his demonic cultivation and find out its reaches, the benefits and the costs that could be extracted from it.

If Nie Mingjue thought his husbands would just placidly accept a future without him, he would just have to wait and see what they would do.

“The tendency towards qi imbalances cause by our way of cultivating is aggravated by the hereditary Nie temper, which is said to be aggravated by the cultivation style in turn,” Nie Mingjue said, his voice a little dry; he was clearly well aware of his faults. “That’s one of the reasons I want to leave my sect to Huaisang in the future – he might not be the strongest cultivator, whether due to his naturally weaker talent or just because of how lazy he is, but he’s calm and thoughtful instead of temperamental, capable of great patience, and he cultivated a golden core using our traditional methods without losing those qualities.”

“I mean, I guess I’ve seen him with his saber,” Wei Wuxian said, a little doubtfully. “Not to be rude, but has he ever used it?”

Nie Mingjue rolled his eyes. “Not as much as he should, but yes, he’s even cultivated the spirit within it. Unfortunately, the saber and the master reflect each other, which means his saber turned out to be a lazy plonk that would rather act as a paperweight than actually stab someone.”

Wei Wuxian tried, and failed, to hide his smirk. He wondered if he could somehow use Nie techniques to regain control over Suibian, despite lacking a golden core – how wonderful it would be, if that were possible!

He thought there was a good chance Nie Mingjue would agree to teach him what he needed to know to do it, too.

“I had assumed you were using the Stygian Tiger Seal as a channel in a similar manner to the way I use my saber,” Nie Mingjue continued, frowning again. “That’s clearly not the case, and that means your demonic cultivation is even more radical an innovation than I had previously considered it to be. However, with your consent, I would like to build you a channel for you to try to start processing your cultivation through, in the hopes that it will work to ease the strain of it on you. My clan uses forging, a mixture of metal and qi, to create a base that can be built up into a saber, though I suppose in your case it doesn’t have to be. Tonight, if you’re not too tired.”

Wei Wuxian nodded. He’d known that backlash was a possibility, had already accepted that he’d likely have an early death as a result of it, had arrogantly assumed he’d be able to come up with something to prevent it, but just because he was doing something new didn’t mean he couldn’t try to supplement it with something that had been practiced for generations – especially since given how he’d used demonic cultivation so far, any backlash would probably end up with him ripped to pieces by a thousand fierce ghosts.

Not really his ideal death.

Especially not before he managed to marry these two!

“I don’t want other people to know, though,” he said, his fingers twisting in his robes at the mere thought. The same anxiety as before: the more people knew his secret, the more chance there was of someone slipping up, of someone finding out – of Jiang Cheng finding out, and his shidi wasn’t stupid, merely too trusting to those he loved; he’d figure it out as soon as the pieces came together. “How many do we need to tell to do it?”

“None,” Nie Mingjue said, and Wei Wuxian started in surprise. “Are you not my intended husband? I can do it myself.”

He paused a moment, and then smiled. “Thank you.”

Wei Wuxian blinked at him. “For what?”

“For allowing me the opportunity to finally get Huaisang off my case about picking your betrothal gift.”

Lan Wangji huffed in amusement, as if some guess had been confirmed, and Wei Wuxian thought that maybe there was a chance this whole thing wouldn’t be a disaster after all.

#mdzs #wei wuxian #lan wangji #nie mingjue #my fic #my fics #academic discussion of demonic cultivation #for those following along you may have a hint of what happens next chapter #pastime with good company

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omniscientwreck · 3 years

Text

Day 6: Time & Transformation // Temptation

Day 6 of @shadowgastweek (I’m very late I know I’m sorry!)

Please enjoy this little glimpse into the future I hope the wizards will get one day, please let me know what you think!

“Caleb?”

“Ja?” The wizard looks over, silver hairs peeking through the copper and he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose looking over from the loveseat where his papers and books were sprawled across the dark upholstery.

A familiar, grin spreads freely across his features.

“Can I tempt you away from your studies for a moment?”

Eyebrows raise and a mischievous glint, “Well you know, this is some important work I’m doing. I’m not sure if you can compete.”

Gliding over, Essek leans down over the human’s form, sporting his own devilish grin. The wizard’s eyes raked over him with a hunger. That could wait. They have time. “Oh I assure you I can be quite compelling.” And he leans in to kiss Caleb. Kissing him is so comfortable, safe, it fills him with a warmth he’d never previously known. It’s been years and it still excites him when their lips connect. Caleb’s short stubble scrapes a bit before they part, Essek righting himself and offering Caleb a hand.

“I have to say Thelyss, you make a good case. What is it?”

“I just wanted to talk with you, about tomorrow.”

As Caleb stands he smiles reassuringly, “Mein Engel, you are still nervous?” He grabs for Essek’s hand, lacing their fingers together. Caleb’s hands are strong and his fingers are wider than Essek’s. It’s easy to feel reassured in his grasp, familiar callouses rough as Caleb’s thumb rubs circles into his hand. “The spell has been performed many times without issue, we’ve got it figured out. I’m certainly excited to see what happens.”

Essek nods, “Of course I am excited too, but well. The other times it was you and now it’s me and transmutation certainly isn’t my specialty.”

A gentle laugh falls from Caleb’s lips and he squeezes Essek’s hand, “You know you really don’t give yourself enough credit. You quite nearly pioneered an entire school of magic. You’ve been it’s foremost scholar and teacher for some time. I understand nerves but I promise you I trust your ability. You’ll have the rest of the Nein there, Veth has had it done to her and the rest were there with us the first time. I will be okay. Besides, won’t you be happy for me to be rid of some of these age markers?”

He winks at Essek, teasing, already knowing the answer. “You grow more beautiful every day Caleb, I have never once regretted the aging of your body. You know very well it’s not about looks, it’s about time.” Caleb stops their walking and wraps his arms around him, pulling Essek in and kissing him gently, chastely. “Regardless of how old you look or what happens tomorrow I intend to stay by your side until death. But we only have one life so we may as well lengthen our time.”

Caleb kisses the tip of his nose and they continue outside of their home. The dark of the night engulfs them and the glow of the stars is vibrant as always, Essek looks at his husband and tries to quell the nerves, the anticipation, when a voice fills his mind, “Hey Essek it’s Jester! I couldn’t wait to see you and Caleb until tomorrow, it’s been so long and I’ve missed you so much. I’m-” the spell cuts off and he waits a few moments to see if she plans to recast.

When he hears nothing he responds, out loud so Caleb can hear, “Hello Jester. It is good to hear from you. We’re home and I believe you know our address. You’re welcome at any time.”

Caleb’s crows feet crinkle around his still piercing blue eyes, “Well, if Jester’s here then so is Fjord and I can’t imagine the others are far behind. We should prepare the guest beds.”

They float inside to welcome their friends and briefly Essek’s anxiety is pushed to the back of his mind.

-----

Long ago he’d finally stopped referring to the Nein as ‘Caleb’s friends’ and accepted his role in their lives and allowed them to step into their roles in his properly. Agents of change, bestowers of affection, it’s been about a year since they last saw everyone together.

Ten years ago when they defeated Lucien the group took a break. Jester and Fjord split off to Nicodranas with Veth, Caduceus went home, Yasha and Beau had posted up mainly in Zadash, and Essek and Caleb spent a great deal of time travelling and exploring. Whenever one of the Nein called they all answered, whether it was something as simple as providing fire power when Beau had an investigation or something as momentous as tying up loose ends from their past, they remained steadfast to one another.

Jester, Fjord, and Veth and her family are the first to arrive and Essek opens a well aged wine. Luc is a teenager at this point and he’s becoming a bit of a menace at the amusement of his uncles. Caleb had previously taught him message and he’s been getting a lot of mileage out of it. Jester and Fjord have stories from having come back from a few months at sea, helping with some errands for merchant ships for old times’ sake.

Their home feels full and alive, and the next moring when Beau and Yasha arrive, and then Caduceus it feels like the family is whole again.

They begin digging clay out of the back yard just as they had the first time and as everyone assumes their positions, laughing and joking, filling the backyard with cacophonous uproar, Essek is hit with nostalgia.

He misses travelling with them, having them by his side and standing at theirs throughout some of the worst confrontations in history. He misses the jokes they lob his way with ease, Fjord and Veth hurling insults back and forth, all of it. It seems like so much time has passed since they had last upturned his yard to help a friend into a new form, but in his comparatively long life it’s hardly any time at all.

They assemble the clay, sprinkling in diamond dust and Essek is basically useless with nerves, they’ve created the trough, incorporated the diamond dust. All that’s left is him. They pause to eat, Caduceus’ cooking a welcome break from the day’s preparations.

Dinner is delicious, and loud, full of stories Luc and Yeza have heard dozens of times but still delightful all the same. As they finish eating and prepare to cast the rest clean up as Essek floats outside to check their arrangement one last time. He feels a punch land on the back of his shoulder, where he was once marked by the Nonagon and Beau surveys alongside him, the day’s work. “Hey man, you okay?”

He should be used to her check-ins but she still puts him on edge despite their ‘beef’ as she put it having been ‘squashed’ years ago. “I am alright. This is a big deal and well, I just want to perform well.”

“You will.” She rubs his shoulders a bit and continues, “You know, I didn’t think you deserved him. Even after we figured our shit out and you like became cool. I didn’t think you were good enough for him. Thanks for proving me wrong, you’re good people and I know you’ll take care of him. You’re nervous because you care and that shows me a lot about you. You’ve always been that way but. Well, I see the way you look at him, it’s just real fucking nice.”

All he can do in response is nod and swallow hard, he doesn’t have words to explain what the reassurance means. He kneels down to ensure the dimensions are right for the fiftieth time and the others come out breaking the silence.

“Ah- before we begin can I steal him quickly?” Caleb asks his friends as if they have somewhere else to be or any reason to deny the couple a few words. He takes Essek a good distance away so they can talk without being overheard. “Schatz, are you ready?”

“It feels like I should be asking you that. You know the form you would like to assume?”

Caleb nods, “Just as we discussed, we’ll put us on a more even playing field.”

Essek tucks a stray strand of copper hair behind a rounded ear and looks at his husband’s face one last time, “I can’t say I won’t miss this view Widogast, you are a most striking man.”

Caleb just laughs and kisses him gently, “Well you have much to look forward to.”

They stay like that for a moment, hands clasped, pulling their bodies close, eye to eye. Determination and a stoic resilience fall over Essek and he nods to Caleb, “Ready?”

“Ready.”

All told the casting is uneventful. The Nein are knelt in a circle around Caleb with Essek at the head, kissing him one last time before beginning the incantation. As the wind picks up and arcane lines and symbols light up, Essek’s concentration is stone cold. The clay begins slowly building over Caleb, covering his face entirely and as the view of his partner is taken from him he seems to connect on a deeper level to Caleb’s psyche. They think together of the chosen form, and he can feel a reassuring wave come off of Caleb as he continues reciting the incantation. The runes light and as he continues casting and putting everything he has into ensuring their mutual happiness. His voice gradually rises and arcane power swirls around them, hair freely whipping around the faces of his friends, watching with confidence, Yasha smiling knowingly at him across the vessel. He can feel the heat radiating as his hands pass over Caleb and at the hour the clay bursts, the ensuing wave of arcane energy pushes him back a foot or so, even in his kneeling position. The light from the spell is snuffed instantly and the night is dark again. Before them is Caleb anew.

He brushes clay away from his face with slender fingers, gently sitting up as Jester helps him. Essek floats over, kneeling beside him where he sits.

Caleb turns to look at him, he has the same copper hair and bright blue eyes, but the skin is smooth and free of stubble, his ears narrow to a point, and his features are just a little finer.

They did it.

Caleb looks at Essek for a moment, not dissimilar from the look they’d shared as they met at the altar the day they were wed, “So this is what you look like in the dark.”

He cups Essek’s face with a smooth hand and laughs lightly as the Nein begin chattering around them, Essek doesn’t hear what they say as Caleb brings his new lips to Essek’s and they’re locked in their second first kiss. Pulling back slightly, Essek’s laughter rings out and they press their foreheads together. He feels someone wrap their arms around the two of them and eventually the rest of the Nein join. In the middle of the large group hug two wizards hold each other and time stretches before Essek as the full gravity of the what they’ve done makes his heart soar. Time will catch up eventually, it always does, but for now they have plenty.

#shadowgast #essek thelyss #caleb widogast #critical role #critfic #shadowgastweek2021 #I just wanted to write romantic semi-domestic fluff okaaay #god i love these two so much

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crowdedimagines · 4 years

Text

Girl Next Door - Harry Styles

over 4k!! 💖 this ended up longer than i thought it would be, but i really didn’t want to break it up into two parts. hope you guys enjoy!

Harry was not in a good mood as of late. He was cranky at the world, which wasn’t very like himself and he was bored of doing nothing. Not even moving to a brand new house in Malibu brought him joy. Jeff noticed him feeling down a little, and was confused by it. The album was officially out and doing very well, now he’s just got a few months until he can start touring.

So he’s taken to moping around his house. Instead of going out, meeting new people, and experiencing new things, like Jeff had hoped would happen, Harry has yet to leave his home. It’s been a few weeks in his new place, still not fully used to the new surroundings.

He definitely wasn’t used to the view. His old home had a nice view, but this one is unmatched. The soft sun casting a warm haze over everything as the nights grow later. The ocean stretches for miles until it hits the horizon. Harry sat in his backyard with a lonely guitar in his lap, he stomped strumming new tunes a while ago.

A loud knock from somewhere far inside the house pulls him from his trance. He leans his guitar against his chair. His bare feet pad against the floor as he makes his way to his front door.

He swings the door open just as another knock starts.

“Oh sorry! I wasn’t sure if anyone was home!” The girl smiles, she drops her raised arm and offers him a warm smile. She tucks her hair behind her ear, her energy is bright and shiny and it makes Harry feel nauseous.

“Can I help you?” Harry leans against the door a little, trying to hint that he wasn’t in the mood for guests.

“I just wanted to say hi! I don’t know if you’ve seen, but I live next door. I noticed you move in a few weeks ago, but I wanted to give you time to settle.”

“Are you on the welcoming committee or sumthin?” Harry mumbles, squinting his eyes to look at her face. He’s struggling to pay much attention right now. He just plainly doesn’t care to.

“We don’t have a committee.” She rolls her eyes but lets out a laugh, “But, I did want to welcome you.”

“Thanks.” Harry starts to close the door a little.

“I’m sorry, did I come at a bad time?” Without even thinking she peeks around behind him to see if he has any guests, which she’s sure he doesn’t. Since moving in, there’s hardly been any activity at all. You would think a ghost lives here.

“Not at all, just not in the mood to entertain a teenage girl tonight I guess.” Harry says, finally letting his sour attitude out.

“Excuse me?” She asks, shocked and somewhat appalled. She didn’t know what she expected coming over, but at least a small amount of kindness seemed to be a given. “What’s crawled up your ass?”

She crosses her arms over her chest, if he’s not going to play nice she isn’t either. Harry lets out a laugh, he doesn’t even care that she’s mad. It’s funny. It’s trivial to him.

“R’ya finished?” He finally looks up at her face again to see she seems to be turning a little red with anger. “Did you give your little speech?”

“Seriously, what is wrong with you?” She rolls her eyes one last time before turning around and walking down his front path. Muttering ‘such an asshole’ to herself as she goes. She doesn’t even look back for a second, she continues her stomp.

Harry shuts the door once she’s out of sight and returns to his guitar, not giving it another thought. He doesn’t give her another thought for a few days. Jeff made it his mission to get him out of the house so they went out for lunch. Harry decided he wanted to drive his beloved Dino with the top down, it’s a sunny day. That car is one of the few things that still is bringing him joy right now.

They pull into Harry’s neighborhood, he needs to drop Jeff back off at his car which is in the driveway. As they get closer Harry notices someone running at a quick pace. It’s the girl again, her hair pulled back into a ponytail and her outfit switched out for a pair of shorts and a sports bra.

“What’s that look about?” Jeff asks, noticing the glare the girl was giving them as they drove past.

“Nothing. Just the neighbor.” Harry shrugs, pulling into his driveway and throwing his car in park.

“She’s not just the neighbor. Do you know who that is?” Jeff turns to look at his friend, surprised at his complete obliviousness. “That was Y/n Y/Ln. She’s an actress.”

“Never heard of her.” Harry mumbles, picking at his bottom lip.

“Well you must’ve, she’s practically a household name. Well off enough to have a house in your neighborhood, that should say something. I think her house might be bigger than yours too.”

Harry rolls his eyes at that, Jeff probably trying to get a rise out of him. He opens his door and steps out, Jeff close behind. He follows him into Harry’s house. Apparently their afternoon together isn’t over.

“Have you talked to her yet?”

“Yeah, she came over a few days ago.” Harry walks to his kitchen to get himself a glass of water.

“She was here?” Jeff smirks.

“Yeah, wanted to welcome me to the neighborhood, I practically shut the door in her face.” Harry relives the memory, it just hitting him how rude he was.

“Well what’d you do that for?”

Harry simply shrugs, not wanting to think too much into it. It’s just been the mood he’s been in lately. It’s what has friends and family so worried. Harry is always kind and warm, but lately he’s been quite the opposite and no one can explain it. He’s never felt more lonely in his life, yet he doesn’t welcome guests. Harry himself doesn’t even get it.

“Well, I’ve got to go. I have a few more meetings today, but let me know if you want to hang out again. I’m sure Glenne would love to have you over for dinner soon.”

“Sounds great.”

Harry waves over his shoulder to his close friend as he climbs the stairs to his room. He hears the door shut and lets out a sigh.

Harry has rarely felt like this in his life. When he has felt this depression it’s never lasted this long, usually only coming in bursts. Lately, it’s consumed him completely, and he’s afraid to admit he might need help. He just feels lonely all the time, and it’s better to plan on being alone than to be let down by someone. That’s how Harry has been living his life now.

Against his better judgement he reaches for his laptop once he’s in his room and googles the girl next door’s name. Thousands of articles, interviews, and accolades pop up, not to mention her list of movies.

He watches a few interviews, and it pains him that she seems genuinely nice and funny. He knows it’s true if she was willing to show up to the neighbors and welcome him. She’s also not as young as he originally thought, in her early twenties and so many things accomplished.

One interview leads to another until his whole Youtube suggestions are all of her. Harry’s sure that he’s seen every interview she’s ever done, dating back years.

By the time he starts putting on her movies, it’s completely dark out, but he can’t stop. He’s compelled to know more. She’s enchanting, the way she acts pulls you in. You want to laugh with her. You want to cry with her.

He simply grins watching her bite back a smile, or throwing her head back in a loud laugh. He still doesn’t truly know her, but for one night at least she made him feel a little less lonely.

The next day Harry wakes up later than he usually does. He was up too late watching flicks that all starred her. He gets up and makes his morning smoothie, and takes it out on his balcony, way later than his usual routine would permit. He closes his eyes, soaking in the sun, his attention being pulled to the left when he hears a splash.

Y/n.

She’s swimming in her pool. Swimming laps, occasionally stopping to reach for her water bottle which sits at the edge of the pool. Harry’s never noticed the view from his balcony, he can see over the tall fence they share.

Harry has to focus to pull his gaze from her, and focus on the book in his hands. He stands no chance once she decides to get out of the pool. Water glistening, the sun beating down making her look like a goddess. Now he can actually take in her black bikini.

She reaches for a towel, but something pulls her attention to the house next door. She can feel eyes on her. She noticed the rude man, who she knows is Harry Styles, his face turning red from being caught.

His eyes start skimming over the lines in his book, not even trying to comprehend them just trying to look like that had been all he was doing. Out of his peripheral vision he notices her walk back inside her house and he can breath again.

Harry doesn’t stay up late at night after that, still becoming more well known with her work, but not affecting his routine. He doesn’t want her to catch him again, made him feel like a creep watching her swim a few days ago.

After a while Harry decides to go in and try to do something somewhat productive with his day for once. He decides to make bread, something he really hasn’t done in a long time. It takes him a while to find a recipe he likes, getting distracted with making himself lunch and writing down potential song lyrics, and running around the house for other things. After a few hours he has a few loaves of bread.

It takes a bit of back and forth with himself before he decides he wants to bring some over to her. A way of an apology. A small way to ask for forgiveness for being an ass. And a chance for him to talk to the girl he’s grown to obsess over the past few days.

He has to shake it out as he walks up her driveway, her house is really nice. Even though they’re right next to each other with the trees and the fence he hasn’t been able to see much. He climbs up a few steps and presses on her doorbell before he can second guess himself.

Her door is fully glass, letting him see a portion of her house, he notices her taking quick steps from farther back in her house. Once she sees who's on the other side her steps slow. Regardless, she pulls the door open.

Her hair is in loose messy waves, like she was at the beach all day. It’s less professional than what he’s seen in interviews, but he likes it. It’s like he’s gotten to see her some way that few do.

“Can I help you?” She doesn’t bother putting on a smile, and Harry can’t even blame her. He didn’t even deserve her opening the door. Although the all glass part would make it awkward for her to see him and then walk away.

“I made some bread.” Harry bursts out, not even uttering a hello.

“And?”

“And I was wondering if you would like some. I made too much for just me.” Harry reaches out the ziploc bag with the bread in it towards her. She hesitantly takes it.

“Why?” Her eyes never falter, holding steady on his.

“Well I just told you-”

“Yeah, but that’s bullshit.” Y/n laughs, getting straight to the point. “You were an ass to me not even a week ago and now you’re bringing me homemade bread. So what’s your deal, do you feel guilty or something?”

“I do.” Harry admits, “I could give you the excuse that I haven’t felt like myself in a really long time and I’ve felt a little depressed and completely alone lately and that I’ve been lashing out on others, which is true, but all I wanted to say is that I’m sorry.”

Harry starts to take a few steps back, he said his apology and if she doesn’t want to accept it then he would have to learn to live with it.

Y/n bites on her lip as she debates with herself. He was an ass, she had almost completely written him off, but she’s had her bad days and no one should have to be judged off of one moment.

“Come on.” She opens the door wider, leaving it open for him to follow.

“Are you serious?” He asks, following her anyway.

“You just said you’re lonely, didn’t you?”

She leads to her kitchen to put away the bread before they make their way to the living room. She sits down on one end of the couch, crossing her legs to face him. Harry mimics her actions, looking around the unfamiliar house.

“So what’s going on?” She picks up a mug from the table which is next to a book. Enjoying her evening reading before she was interrupted by him.

“I just feel like I haven’t got anything to do. I’ve finished my album, and I just need to wait a few months until the tour. I’ve already done the promo, and I just feel bored and alone.”

“What? So you’ve got no hobbies? Other than watching me swim laps in my pool.” She smirks setting her mug back down. Harry’s face heats up, turning an obvious shade of pink.

“Other than that, no.” He sputters out, “It was only the one time, and it wasn’t intentional, I swear! I had just never noticed that I could see your yard so well from my balcony.”

“It’s alright.” She smiles. “So what about friends or bandmates? Aren’t they playing the waiting game just like you?”

“Yeah, they are, but most of them spend this time with family since we’ll be on tour for months at a time after this.”

“Why aren’t you doing that?”

“I just wanted to be able to be in one place. Plus they both work, so I don’t want to go sit at my moms all by myself all day. I think it would be just as bad.” Harry explains, Y/n just nods as she listens.

“Do you want some tea?” Y/n asks as she gets up, grabbing her mug on the way.

Harry nods, following her to the kitchen. She puts the kettle on the stove, grabbing a second mug out of one of her cabinets. She pulls herself on the counter while they wait, Harry does the same with some hesitancy.

“I think that you should do everything that you won't be able to do once you’re on tour.” She explains.

“What do you mean?” Harry looks to her confused.

“All of the things you won't have time for once you’re in a new city every night.” She jumps off the counter once the kettle lets out a high pitched whistle. “Like go get a new tattoo, or ten. Go on a date. Write a new song to surprise the fans with on tour. Fill as much of your time now, so you won’t regret it when your schedule is packed later.”

Y/n hands him a mug and they walk back to the couch.

“That’s kind of a brilliant idea.” Harry admits.

“I know.” Y/n grins, “I’m kind of brilliant.”

Harry lets out a laugh and rolls his eyes.

“And maybe if you aren’t already, try therapy. It can really help.”

Harry takes her words into consideration. He’s gone on and off, never consistently, because he’s never had a consistent schedule.

They stay up until it grows dark out and they’ve talked for hours. They exchange phone numbers so now they can call each other before randomly showing up on each other’s door steps. Harry also enlists Y/n to help him fill his time since she has some spare time right now because she’s between movies.

They grow a little closer every time they hang out. For over a week straight they hang out everyday. Jeff sees a noticeable difference in Harry when he pays him a visit. He’s got his glow back, and a friendly grin on his face.

“Alright, what gives? Did you get laid or something?” Jeff teases.

“No!” Harry shakes his head with a laugh, putting down his phone and giving Jeff his full attention.

“You seem...better.” Jeff struggles to find the right word.

“I feel better, I’ve been hanging out with Y/n all week.”

“Ahhh, there it is.”

“No, we’re just friends.” Harry shakes his head, already trying to think of something to change the subject with because he knows that Jeff can see right through his bullshit.

“Right, just friends.”

“We are! She’s between films right now and we’re both just trying to keep ourselves entertained.”

Jeff leaves Harry’s house a few hours later, it takes him thirty seconds to call Y/n to see what she’s up to.

“Hello?”

“Hello, love.” Harry smiles hearing that she’s answered.

“Uhhh, hi!” Y/n says back.

“Are you alright, you sound stressed.” Harry comments, his brows furrow.

“I’m cooking.”

“Great, I’ll call the fire department.” Harry teases. Y/n being a bad cook didn’t take Harry long to figure out. She’s truly awful at it, with the worst luck.

“Shut up! Just get your ass over here and help out.”

Neither Harry or Y/n have grown so comfortable with someone in this short of time span. It was bound to happen with both of them needing entertainment, Harry more so than her. They found new things to do most days, or just found contentment in each other’s presence.

Harry makes his way over, letting himself in when he gets there. Y/n has music playing loudly, at least four different pans going at once, not to mention all the things she’s trying to get done at the kitchen island.

She moves her hips with the song as she sings along, not completely focused on cutting the vegetables. Harry simply leans on the archway entrance to the room taking in the sight. One that’s quickly become one of his favorites.

“Hey!” She grins looking up at him, finally noticing him.

“Hey.” He walks closer and presses a kiss to her temple before taking over on the things she was not giving a fair amount of attention to.

“What would you do without me love?” Harry asks, teasing, while turning down the heat on a few things.

“Order in.” She teases right back. Something their relationship has plenty of room for is humor.

After a while longer, they settle in and eat their meal, which turns out better than either of them would have imagined.

“D’ya wanna go for a drive?” Harry asks, taking both of their plates and walking towards the sink.

“Sure!”

They walk back to Harry’s house so he can drive, of course taking out the Dino. Harry pulls out of the driveway and they make their way to the Pacific Coast Highway.

Y/n pulls her hair back into a pony, remembering how her hair gets whipped around when the top is down in the car.

“That was a good idea, love.” He comments, noticing her hair is no longer flying in every which direction. Harry’s longer curls on the other hand keep coming forward and hitting him in the face.

“I know, it was such a great idea I even remembered one for you.” She pulls the second hair tie off her wrist and ties the top half of his hair into a little sprout of a ponytail on the top of his head. Harry feels a slight blush while she ties up his hair for him.

“Thanks, love.” He grins.

It makes Harry feel warm inside, the smallest gestures. The fact that Y/n remembered that his hair bothers him too sometimes and she thought to grab another tie for him. She doesn’t even know what she did is making his heart swell, her hand just floating out the window with the wind.

Harry pulls off when they find a lookout spot. The view is different from the one they have at their homes, but just as nice. The sun setting low, causing the sky to fill with a pinkish orange color.

“Who could ever get used to this?” Y/n asks, fully taking in the sight in front of her. She gets out of the car and sits down on the hood, simply looking back at him over her shoulder, “Are you gonna join me or what?”

She doesn’t need to ask Harry twice. He joins her on the hood, his legs stretching out in front of him.

“This past week has been the best one I’ve had in a long time, Y/n.” Harry admits, changing his view to her face.

“Me too, Harry.” She smiles.

“Can I take you on a date, Y/n?” Harry asks, surprising them both equally.

“What?” She turns to look at him. Her question both to make sure she heard him correctly and to also give him an out in case he didn’t mean what he just blurted.

“Can I take you on a date? It was one of the things you listed to do, and there’s no one else I would want to go on a date with other than you.”

“Oh.” Y/n responds, she turns away for a second so she can think. Obviously she wants to go on a date with him, but the whole point was for him to do things that he won’t be able to do for months. If she says yes to this date and grows attached she could very well be dumped in two months or have to attempt long distance. Is Harry worth that?

“I would love to go on a date, Harry.” Y/n smiles, turning back to face him. His eyes never left her face. He wasn’t even nervous, just excited to pursue this relationship.

“Okay good, because I don’t know if I could take another movie night without being able to cuddle you.” Harry sighs, pulling Y/n into his chest.

They sit like that for a while, until the sun is far below the horizon and the breeze starts to get cold. They make it back to Y/n’s house, Harry parks in the driveway and walks her to the front door.

“So, when are you taking me on that date?” She teases, leaning against her front door slightly. Trapped between it and Harry.

“Hmm, tomorrow too soon?” Harry smirks.

“No, I was probably going to have plans with you anyway.” Y/n smiles.

“Good, I don’t want to wait much long to kiss you.” Harry takes a small step closer.

“Well, what’s stopping you right now?”

“Y/n, kisses before the first date?” Harry feigns shock, letting his jaw drop while Y/n throws her head back in a laugh.

“She does, but you can’t tell anyone.”

“I promise.”

After that Y/n pulls Harry in closer to close the distance. The kiss is soft and warm. Inviting them both to extend it, opening their mouths wider. Inviting each other to know each other more intimately. Y/n’s arms wrap around his neck while Harry’s tighten on her waist.

Eventually they pull up for oxygen, smiling like teenagers after their first kiss.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Y/n asks, unlocking her door and walking in.

“I will see you tomorrow.” Harry nods, a little dopey. High off of her lips.

“Goodnight, Harry.” She smirks, letting the door shut a little more.

“Goodnight, Y/n.”

hope y’all loved that because it was cuteeeeee 🤩

#harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #Harry Styles

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themagicalmysticalboy · 3 years

Note

PLEASE do that bob&george oneshot there's barely any content for them I love your stuff!!! :D

a/n: in which George and Bob Dylan are v e r y high on acid. this is technically closer to what a shroom high is like as opposed to an acid high but who cares abt semantics, right?

You've Really Got A Hold On Me

The flower pattern on the wall was doubling and tripling into a never-ending spiral, budding and blossoming in the blink of an eye. John joking and making the intimate circle of people laugh brought the wallpaper’s movements to a slow end. George took in a deep breath, grounding himself. Brian was to his right with his knees to his chest. Cynthia fell to his left, cuddled up against John. Leaving George directly in front of his friend.

They all sat around on the floor as the party around them went on. George wasn’t quite sure what John said but the flame of Cynthia’s lighter dancing strangely as she lit a spliff was enough to have him giggling. A wave-like sensation followed and tumbled through his body pleasantly. His fingers were a retreating tide, stretching impossibly long as he fiddled with a tune on the guitar only to come back to normal. He curled and uncurled his toes, feeling them roll like a carpet being put into storage. His whole body could be a rolled-up carpet for all he knew. Wouldn’t that be nice? But then again, carpets can’t hear and George was quite enjoying the music at the moment. Someone was playing a familiar song on the piano but the name of it couldn’t be placed.

Before he really understood his thought process, he was standing and his guitar was propped against a chair.

“Where you off to?” John was looking up at him with half-lidded eyes and a far-away smile.

“Duh know.” George laughed at the realization and let his feet guide him away.

Enough acid, alcohol, and weed had gone around that the party was nearing its peak. Whose party? At whose house? For what occasion? No clue. The important thing was that it felt warm. And not in an uncomfortable way. More like an excited hug from a long-unseen friend. Vibrantly dressed people filled the room and lined the walls. Some melted into the floor while others didn’t even touch it. Music was still going and Paul’s voice belted lyrics with the tune of the piano. He wasn’t visible in the crowd of people but he sure could be heard.

Swiping a drink from a serving table, George strode through the crowd and ascended a set of wildly painted stairs. Two birds sat together, painting a step with a bottle of sparkling nail polish. They didn’t look up as people passed. They only saw each other as they practically sat in one another’s lap. George rather liked when people did that- got lost in each other. He excused himself to pass and moved along.

At the top of the stairs, a couple rushed into a room in a fit of laughter and kissing. The door slammed behind them as George went by. The sound hit every inch of his body like a brick wall and suddenly the fringed lamps were giving off the worst lighting possible. When he tried to breathe he found that the warm hug had turned into a stranglehold. With the chug of his drink, George took swift strides down the hall. Tension rose in his muscles and tendons with each movement and the lights only got brighter and brighter, threatening to blind him. Finally, he opened the very last door at the very end of the hallway.

New energy from the space calmed him almost immediately. The glow of the lights somehow tasted much kinder in there and no one else was occupying the space, save for a tabby cat.

“You mind the intrusion?” He addressed the cat. It responded with a short meow and settled on the couch, unbothered. “Ta.”

The door clicked closed, sealing in the soft vibes. The art studio he found himself in was covered with finished and half-finished work. One piece still sat at the easel with nothing but a messy black background. Paint and drop cloths cluttered the space around the easel and couch. The floor was a beautiful and giant daisy, splattered with freckles of stray paint. George laid himself down on a delicate white pedal and took in the energy of the room. He felt yellow and orange bursting in his chest and behind his eyes.

There was a rhythmic knocking at the door. It echoed and bounced until it was all George could hear. The muffled chatter and music from the party fell away to the knockknock, knockknock, knock. The orange in his chest fell way to blue which melted into yellow seamlessly. He wasn’t very sure how to respond to the knocking, so he didn’t.

The door creaked open, regardless, and George slowly sat up to find a mess of curly hair on top of a small frame. “Bobby,” He greeted with a toothy grin. “You’ve got to ask the cat if you can stay.”

“Oh, man. Really?” Bob smiled, awkwardly removing the cigarette from between his lips though both hands already held drinks. “Well,” he asked the starring tabby, glancing to George as they both tried not to laugh.

The cat hopped from its resting spot and rubbed against Bob’s trousers. He looked to George to see if he had passed.

“Oi, well, now you have to leave. They like you more than me.”

“Apologies to your ego,” He stated as he sat in the center of the daisy and placed one cup in front of George before taking a sip of his own.

“I’ve got a drink, actually.”

“I’m sure yours isn’t water.”

The green vibrations romped around George and he took up the water appreciatively. “I feel romanced.” And he kind of meant it though his tone made it seem more of a jest.

Bob only hummed, placing his cigarette back between his lips. He leaned back on both hands to stare at the ceiling, casting his features into the soft yellow lighting. Both his legs were laid out flat, one foot on either side of George. “It’s loud down there. I couldn’t feel - see - anything right, you know? The noise was a cloud over my eyes.” Smoke poured from between his lips, delicately floating into the air.

“Mmm, suffocating like.” As Bob rose his head up George realized he hadn’t been seeing right either. A radius of color encapsulated him, dancing softly above his skin. It shimmered around him in an impossible display of greens and yellows. He saw nothing like it when he was downstairs. “Blinding too, yeah.”

“You Beatles are hard to find. You, Ringo, and John, at least. If anything, Paul’s hard to lose.”

George rested his elbows on his knees and leaned forward. God. He really hadn’t seen anything before this very moment. “Paul’s good for company ‘til he finds a bird to fly off with or gets bored,” he answered listlessly, lost in the explosion of color and energy before him. “Do you see all the colors?” He had to ask, even if it sounded a little silly out loud. “You’re as good as a rainbow.”

Bob gave a youthful grin and tilted his head. New shades of blue and green and yellow spun out from around him. “Yeah. You look like the sun just as it’s rising.”

The flow of energy between them felt magnetic, compelling George to move closer. Once they both occupied the bright yellow center of the daisy- George’s legs overtop of Bob’s thighs- the pull finally settled.

“You think it’s our auras,” he asked as he rested his hands above Bob’s hips.

“All I know is that I can see all of you.” He said as his eyes flicked between George’s eyes and mouth. “I could taste your favorite song on your lips.”

Though he fought to keep a straight face, his lips defied him and curled into a smile. He bit down on his bottom lip in a vain attempt to gain control but quickly gave up. “You think so?”

Bob nodded ever so slightly and cupped the side of George's face. His calloused fingertip gently rubbed his cheekbone. “Can I…?”

They were almost nose to nose already. It took so little effort to close the gap that George barely registered that he had done it at all until their lips grazed and a bolt of lightning struck through his veins, illuminating the room so brightly that George could see the pale yellow through his closed eyes. His fingers curled into the fabric of Bob’s shirt as he pressed into the kiss.

When they parted Bob’s head fell onto his shoulder, his hands circling George to clasp behind his back. “Hold me, please. Hold me, squeeze, hold me, hold me,” He sang softly, his usual folksy vocals nowhere to be found. “You really got a hold on me. I said you really got a hold on me.”

George gave a breathy chuckle and did as the song called for, holding Bob tighter in his arms. “The Miracles. Can never go wrong there.”

Bob raised his head and they kissed again before George repositioned. He tugged Bob along with him until they were both flat on their backs, laying on the same flower pedal, hand in hand.

After a while, Bob pressed his head into George’s. “How long do the colors last?”

“Probably another hour.”

Bob rolled on his side and George turned his head so they could meet eyes. “What even is an hour?”

With a quizzical glance at his own fringe, he surmised, “Somewhere between five seconds and an infinity.”

“Perfect. We’ll lay here ‘til then.”

#i’ve never written bob before so i don’t really like his voice in this but hopefully i’ll write him more and get better #george harrison #john lennon #cynthia lennon #brian epstein #the beatles fanfiction #the beatles one shot

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