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setsugekka · 11 months

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❥of floral lace (m)

↳ Wedding planning is a stressful enough job as it is, without the added trouble of a handsome best man who can't seem to take his attention off of you.

But when it comes to 'meant to be,' maybe he knows something that you just don't quite know yet.

best man!bang chan x wedding planner!fem!reader — strangers to lovers, meet-cute, unrequited (?) pining, explicit sexual content. [11,2k wc] cws: alcohol consumption, protected penetrative sex, Chan wants it bad-bad, a lot of teasing and wanting and flirtatious banter.

In February, the weather is still cold. Bitter and icy, some days. Windy, with occasional snow, and it’s days like this that make it feel as though the warmth of spring and summer may never come. Sometimes, it’s the small reminders that life – the world itself – is ever changing. Spring will always come, winter will always end.

Such is life, isn’t it?

Walking up to the glass and platinum plated front doors of the expensive building, Chan muses the thoughts. Despite it not being for him – simply being an accomplice, of sorts – being involved in the wedding party tends to bring about the thoughts of ones own, personal love life. Life in general. Cycles of love and loss, all encompassing. A tall, white, building in a busy and upper class side of town – not where Chan is from, but where the bride-to-be was from. Completely foreign while simultaneously being familiar in proximity. Stepping forward and reaching for the door with his dominant hand, opening it for the couple and attempting to push his long, blonde hair out of his eyes with his other hand, the woman that his best friend would marry looks towards him kindly and chuckles – a comment about knowing the struggles of women with long hair versus the wind, and Chan smiles in response to her.

He likes her. Always had. Nothing romantic, but he was proud of the choice that his best friend of many years had made in a life partner. Chan often found himself hopeful that he, too, may one day make such a choice for himself.

The three enter the building as he continues the attempt of wrangling his hair – best friend in question, Lee Minho, laughing under his breath as to not disturb the quiet ambiance of the room they had just entered.

“Are you gonna cut it before the wedding?” he asks, lightly nudging Chan in the arm, and Chan looks at him in a slight state of shock, as if the thought had never even dawned on him for a second previously.

“Should I?”

“You don’t have to.”

Looking around, briefly at their surroundings: white furnishings, carpeting, walls – gold accenting mostly, with hints of forest green among the well-kept plants and coming together along the counter outline of the desk – he feels wholly out of place. It was much too expensive for him, and if he ever were to be planning a wedding in the future, it likely would not be here.

He brings himself back to the conversation, “does she want me to?” referring to the bride in question, and Minho only shakes his head. “No, she doesn’t mind.”

“I’ll be with you in just a second!”

A woman’s voice calls from another room – back behind the desk they stand before. Beige envelopes and paperwork lightly strewn across it; it’s somewhat messy, but nothing completely unmanageable, and the phone begins to ring at that moment.

Chan hears the same voice that had just called to them curse lightly under it’s breath. He cracks a smile at the break in character, as it were.

It’s in that moment that he finally lays eyes on you – beige pant-suit and hair in a ponytail, pen in mouth as you fly around the corner and attempt to answer the phone with the item still snug between your teeth before you realize that that simply will not do, hurriedly tugging it from your lips and lightly tossing it on the desk in front of you. You look up to the party of three in front of you, waiting patiently, and smile.

“Just a second.”

“No problem, take your time,” the bride insists.

Chan can only watch on in awe, though.

It’s a relatively quick phone call, confirming an appointment for flower arrangement the following week and then it’s all eyes on the individuals in front of you. You look at the bride, the groom, and then Chan – quite obviously not the one getting married. Messy, wind-swept golden hair and beady brown eyes – but in jeans and a hoodie with a small spot on it that looks akin to a child who had accidentally spilled some sauce on himself and forgot to clean it up.

A little charming, due to the fact that he’s good looking. Turns out that can get one pretty far in and of itself.

“Right so,” you begin, taking a deep breath before continuing, “what can I do for you?”

Minho and his soon-to-be wife begin the discussions that they had gone there for, Chan listening on and truly as if he were playing the part of the son that had been dragged along for the ride due to no childcare being available. Your eyes can’t help but creep towards him every now and then – watching the way that he looks around the room, almost as if in awe of the sights – not that the interior was anything to call home about. You found it charming, his simple appreciation for…white, you supposed.

Calling for them to come into the back with you, the group sit at a table filled with thick binders with numerous labels atop them. Things like “reception,” “flowers,” “lighting,” anything that you could think of and even many that you hadn’t lined the table, and Chan considers for a second that maybe he won’t get married, after all.

He brings his attention to Minho, who happily dives into one of the binders – evidently delighted by the prospect of wedding planning. A complete disintegration from the stereotypical male response – the response that had just immediately come to Chan, himself.

He figures that maybe you have to be there, then.

“These are the more basic, common options up at the front on these pages, they’re labeled with this color,” you point out towards one of the binders displayed in front of Minho’s fiancee, “the further back, the more expensive and intricate the options become. It’s good if you have a budget in mind so that we can plan accordingly, of course.”

And of course, Chan is listening. Of course he is. But he can’t help but get lost in his own thoughts, as well as he watches you work. Taking notice of your smile and how pretty it is, the few loose strands of hair that have fallen away from the rest that lie bundled up into a tie at the back of your head. Chan watches your eyelashes when you blink and notices their length, and how pretty the color of your eyes are. Your earrings – expensive looking, hopefully not expensive in price, he thinks to himself as he loses himself in wishful imaginative thought – because if the two of you were to date, he wouldn’t be affording anything of the sort, and Chances are, that if they were expensive, then you wouldn’t be interested in dating him, anyways.

Chan had a habit of romantically getting ahead of himself, that much was evident.

“Chan?”

A sudden, vocal intrusion once again pulling him back to earth, it’s the sound of his best friends voice calling towards him. “You okay?”

“Oh,” he says, clearing his throat and sitting himself up in his chair properly. “Yeah, sorry, was spacing out. What’s up?”

“What do you think of this color? We need an outside opinion, that’s what you’re here for.”

Chan leans himself forward and out of his chair to look over the shoulders of the couple. Napkins. They forced him to stop fantasizing about dating the cute wedding planner for napkins.

Because obviously what he had been doing was of much more importance.

“Um, I like the lavender.”

“See, I think I like the pink, actually,” the fiancee replies.

“Keep in mind you don’t have to commit to anything today,” you remind them, “this visit is really only to get an idea of where we want to go, we’re not setting anything in stone.”

“Says you, I’m planning our own wedding,” Chan thinks to himself in response.

With pinks and roses decided among numerous other items, it’s a couple of hours later that the four of you bid farewell. You shake the hand of Minho, and the bride-to-be hugs you – much to your surprise, but with Chan, it’s a bit more awkward of a goodbye – due to the necessity of his being there in any capacity being up for discussion. However, you smile, thank them all for coming, and wish them well on their day.

Little do you know, however, the plans that the airhead friend have already set into motion.

According to him, of course.

The sound of the doorbell rings through the room as you look up from your paperwork in the back office. Gently pushing things aside in an attempt to find your schedule book, you gaze on in confusion to find that you have nothing on the agenda for this hour – and with the firm not taking walk-ins, you fail to guess what it could possibly be.

It does, however, make more sense upon finding out what the wind had blown in today.

“Hey!”

You’re shocked to find Chan standing at the door. Less the shock of it being him, and more the shock of him looking just as disheveled as he had the few days prior when you had met him. How could an adult man be so not put together, and especially on this side of town? It’s something you contemplate but only for a moment, as you are forced to address him now that he is presented before you.

“Uh, hey, so we don’t take walk-ins—“

“Oh no, it’s not like, a thing, I was just asked to drop by to relay some information.”

“Why you?”

“Was in the area.”

“You were in—“ and you pause, trying to think of a polite way to carry on with the thought, “—the area.”

Chan sort of realizes that the gig is up at that moment, in his shorts and his hoodie in twelve degree weather, and smiles gently. “Yeah.”

You roll your eyes, but motion for him to follow you into the back office with you nonetheless in order to take notes about whatever it is that he had gone there for – chuckling to yourself about the fact that he showed up to a very expensive office in winter, wearing shorts.

You don’t even want to do the soul searching it would take to figure out why you find that endearing, perhaps best left for therapy.

Sitting down in your chair, you pull out the file for the bride and groom in question and pick up a pen. “Has the client changed their mind about something we had discussed the other day?”

“Yeah,” Chan begins, but it’s slow, as he looks around and takes in the sights of the somewhat chaotic back office space that you call your own. You gently, playfully, call out a “hey” towards him to bring him back to the topic at hand. “Oh uhh, yeah, so instead of the pink, they decided on the lavender after all.”

“Interesting, your choice,” you respond.

“You remembered?”

Realizing what you had done, that you had, in fact, remembered what his input had been, you feel a bit of the heat of embarrassment rush into your ears – but attempt to play it cool.

“Of course, you were a part of the planning.”

He doesn’t respond, and only smiles down at you, shoulder holding him upright against the wooden frame of the doorway.

“And they decided on lilies instead of roses, also.”

“Good choice,” you answer, scribbling onto the paper in front of you and quickly penning something over the mark to replace it. “I preferred the lilies, myself.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Chan answers, and it’s so smooth it sounds as if he never said anything unusual at all.

You know he’s flirting with you, you simply choose to ignore it.

“Is there anything else?”

“No, just those two things.”

You stop, furrowing your brows in confusion and taking a moment to truly consider the oddity of the scenario before you. “Why…didn’t they just call me, why did they send you in person? These sorts of matters can be dealt with over the phone.”

But Chan merely shrugs and continues smiling at you. “Dunno, didn’t ask.”

You don’t take yourself for much of a detective, but figure it’s pretty simple to see what’s going on here. It’s cute, but you’re not interested.

You stand, motioning out towards the main lobby of the building and walk ahead of the man.

Chan takes it upon himself to view all of the ways in which you exist before him. Your hair, your eyes, your clothes.

Perhaps a moment where most men would objectify you, Chan is merely finding all of the intricate details, all of the little things – tiny ways in which he can talk himself into falling in love with you.

And you’re just trying to get the work day over with.

“I think if it were my wedding,” Chan begins, elbows on the desk and chin placed into his palms as you sit at your swivel chair and gently look up towards him as if he’s somewhat of an inconvenience to you. “I think, forest green and gold, a bit like this,” he says, pointing towards the detailing of the marble just under him. “What about you?”

“You think about wedding planning?” you can’t help but ask, unusual for a presumably straight man. You consider for a moment that you had been picking up all of the wrong vibes from him. Maybe he wasn’t into you, after all.

“Yeah, well,” and he pauses, thinking again, “well, truthfully, I hadn’t until the first day we all came here. I have been since then.”

“That’s cute.”

“So what about you?”

“I have work to do, if we’re done here,” you respond, ignoring his question entirely and instead meeting him with a tonally cheeky reply, avoiding eye contact as to not laugh.

“Answer me and I’ll leave then!” Chan whines in response, and you really wish you didn’t find this sort of behavior endearing in any way.

But you sigh in defeat, putting the pen that you had just picked up back down in a huff and looking up at him in gentle irritation, “fine.”

“Burgundy,” you start, pushing papers around to find a tablet of color swatches beneath them, and you point to a color on it with a freshly manicured nail. “Similar to this, more blue-toned. and then—“ you pause, pushing the present swatches aside in favor of different ones that you had located in the meantime. “Gold accenting, like this. And yellow roses.”

“Why yellow?”

“I just like them.”

Chan knows that he responds to you, although if you asked him just after he had left what he had said, he wouldn’t have been able to tell you. Instead, the man loses himself immediately in thoughts of a quickly developing crush. He watches your fingers dig through papers and point to colors – watches the way that your lips move with the words that you speak and the way the corners of them pull up when you talk about the things that you like in particular. It’s all in the way that you so matter of a factly say that you “just like” yellow roses – no other thoughts, no other reasoning. Just because.

Chan wonders if this is love – an absolutely, mind-numbingly, all-encompassing smittenness for another person that you barely know anything about. Juvenile and reckless and for all of the wrong reasons. Love at first sight. The honeymoon period that hasn’t even begun yet, and Chan was full-swing all the same.

And you wish it had been different for yourself – a child-like innocence to him that you found so charming and disarming in so many ways. a cute crush that surely would never develop past the phase in which it had already reached – you found yourself daydreaming about cute dates and picking out colors with him regardless, before shaking yourself out of it and returning back to your work.

bad idea, dating the clientele – even if only tangentially related as such.

“Hey.”

The smile on his face carries through the simple, verbal notion and you manage to pick up on it, even with all of the hustle and bustle going on around you.

That doesn’t stop him from having scared the shit out of you, though.

You watch Chan grin in response to your sudden yell and turn, “Jesus Christ,” escaping through your lips in exasperation and he still only carries a hopeful, happy curl of his lips.

“Bad time?”

The irony of the question being, of course, that he is asking it all the while you pick up the numerous sheets of paper, spools of lace, and other such items from the floor – items that had been suddenly relinquished from your grasp at the ill-timed intrusion of a man, a man not even getting married.

“Yes, you could say that—“ you respond, an attempt not to sound rude but perhaps failing ever so slightly. He was being irritating, after all. “—if we’re going to talk, then we’ve got to talk and walk,” you say, finally pulling everything into your bag and swinging it over your shoulder just before hurriedly rushing out from behind the desk and past the man before you – nearly dumbfounded in appearance at the way you move about in the middle of the day – even if for work. “I’ve got places to be, so make it quick.”

Rushing down the sidewalk, heeled shoes clattering against it, Chan watches in amazement at his inability to keep up. He wonders how you muster up the strength and ability to do this day in and day out – and with a smile on your face, at that.

“You need to take this,” you finally say to him, stopping only briefly enough to push some of the things in your hands, into his own. “Make yourself useful.”

“Happy to,“ he begins to respond, but only to watch as your back turns towards him again – ponytail in full swing, rushing back towards where ever it had been that you had been roped into stumbling towards.

Chan stops to smell the flowers – literally. As a few of varying different types had been thrown into his arms – but it’s quickly off to the races again, as to not disappoint.

And he can’t help but watch in complete, smitten, awe of you as you dart in and out of shops and doorways as you go. He never goes in with you – waiting patiently out front of where ever it is that you end up in the next moment, but he finds that he is never waiting long – that you work quickly. And he knows that he doesn’t know the workings of your job, your career, really at all, so maybe this is normal, but he smiles to himself at the way that the details of the situation don’t even really matter to him. Chan makes sure to watch you in a sort of make-shift slow motion that he crafts himself from scratch in the moment – capturing you and your essence and all of the things that he finds himself oh so quickly becoming enamored with, even just the way the wind some times catches your coat, it feels like a movie to him…the way his heart seemingly gets swept away in the same gust.

You step out of a building, as Chan is mid-thought, watching your every movement as he does. You don’t even notice it. Notice him. Not really.

He knows that.

Smiling, you bid the client farewell and give a sigh of relief towards the man that had aided you in your short, but fast-paced journey. “Thank you, sorry to make you—“

“Go out with me.”

The question arrives as a shocking on, albeit looking back on the situation, perhaps it should not have. You actually do give it some thought, as well – which in and of itself comes as a bit of a surprise to you, as well.

And you’re almost disappointed when you have to turn him down.

“Tonight, let’s get a drink.”

“Chan, that’s nice of you but—“ pausing briefly, you consider how to word the dismissal delicately…and sort of in a way to not shut down the possibility of going out in the future. “I have too much work to do tonight, and tomorrow. I’m sorry.”

You don’t want to talk to him like a child. Like someone to pity, but the refusal always finds a way to come out that way anyways. You watch Chan smile at you all the same, nodding to himself and simply saying “okay” as a response.

“You have a good night then, alright?” he adds, turning to head towards where home would be, and you’re not sure which part it is that’s yelling – the head or the heart – but one of them certainly is not being quiet about it’s desire to change it’s mind about the drink matter.

But you stand strong. There’s always more men.

“I will, you do the same.”

“I will.”

Chan loves watching you work. Hell, suffice it to say Chan fell in love watching you work. And perhaps it’s too much, too quick — something he tells himself from the logical part of his brain. You don’t even know her, dude. Which is true and he knows it, but the truth is that Chan has sort of taken it upon himself to fill in all of the blanks in the most shining, beautiful ways that he can. A man that lives on the precipice of a romantic comedy at all times — he’s always only been waiting for this moment. for someone like you. Someone to come in and sweep him off of his feet, as it were.

Just a hopeless romantic, that Bang Chan.

“Now’s not really the best time—“ you manage out towards him, mouth full of safety pins and fingers attempting to fumble through loads of white, shimmering fabric.

Dress fittings, the best part of the whole getting married gig, to some.

He doesn’t reply, carefully discarding himself from the doorway as to not be an obstruction physically in the same way that his presence is in every other way. He does smile, though. Halfway. A sly curly of the lip that you catch before pressing more pins into the bodice of your client.

Chan watches the whirlwind before him — feeling like the exaggerated display of floral lace and shiny shoes being tossed up and around like in the cartoons one sees when growing up weren’t actually that far from the truth — he smiles all the same, because he’s charmed by it all.

He especially takes note of your tied back hair and the way your jacket had been discarded probably long before he had arrived. How it appeared as though your day had already been a long one, despite it only being the early afternoon.

It’s the first time that Chan thinks to himself that you might really be the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

But his attention is pulled back to reality, a woman gently leaning towards him and softly addressing him — as if she had known that his thoughts weren’t there with them at the time.

“Are you with the bride?”

Taken by surprise, Chan shakes his head — hands up in submission. “Oh, I’m with her!” he says, and points towards you as you continue diligently working on the fitting before you.

“Oh my God,” the client suddenly exclaims, turning towards him so suddenly that it sends you reeling. “You’re getting married, too!?”

Fuck sake.

“Wow, what a coincidence, huh?” the staff smiles towards Chan, before heading towards the small cooler behind the counter and pulling out a bottle of champagne. “We certainly have to celebrate this!”

It’s a roller coaster, for sure — and as hilariously charming the confusion is, Chan’s eyes can’t help but stay glued to your figure. Scanning your reaction. A chance you don’t hate this? A chance you might be willing to play along? Play pretend? Just for him, just for today?

The staff member comes back over to Chan without any time wasted, handing him a glass of bubbly gold liquid before sauntering over to you and handing you the same. Drinking is pretty strictly against the rules while on the job — except in situations where not drinking could cost you the job, of course. It’s up to your own discretion, case by case basis.

Suppose we’re pretending we’re getting married today. Just another check mark off of the list of completely insane things that the job every so often required of you.

Chan finally makes his way to the back and towards you, gently smiling — it says sorry that this happened, but it’s kind of fun, right? And you wish that you could deny him the pleasure of being right.

“So, have you started dress shopping yet?” the bride asks, eyes sparkling and excitement lacing her voice. You found it so lovable — the absolute delight that she seemed to receive from just the mere prospect that someone else might be just as happy as she was — who were you to ruin her day, then?

“N-no, not yet,” you stutter out, bashfully smiling towards Chan and then quickly away from him, because what the fuck? “I’m quite picky.”

You can see Chan trying to reign in the curl of the corners of his mouth at the response. He’s enjoying it way too much for your liking, possibly more than the client before you.

“You should try something on with me! Oh my God, please!” she gasps, grabbing at your free hand and shaking it gently. “Please! It would be so fun!”

“Oh, I—“ suddenly looking up towards Chan — full on smiling, now — and back at the client, you feel a bit outnumbered. “I shouldn’t, I’m working…”

“Yeah, for me!” she answers, hands on her hips in a playfully authoritative way, “so I think if I want you to try on a dress with me, that you should probably do it!”

It’s a mischievous threat, not backed by any actual ill-will, but you do have to consider any possible implications behind it — she is a big client, an expensive client.

You should probably just do what you’re told, right?

Running your hands down the front of the beaded bodice, it’s sort of an impulse to avoid your own reflection in the numerous, angled mirrors before you. Set up to show you every inch of yourself — you find irony in the fact that you wish to see none of it, because it feels wrong. It’s out of place, and not how you had dreamed your first dress try on to be — to appease a rich, pushy client and for a man that for all intents and purposes, you don’t even know. Playing dress up and pretend at your big age, it wasn’t the ideal outcome.

You hear the woman call out for you — indiscernible words that you know the meaning of all of the same. Hurry up, come out, become a spectacle. But you had already agreed, and the faster you begin, the faster it will end. You look up, finally making eye contact with yourself in the reflection, and your heart drops — but not for any of the aforementioned reasons you had expected. In a flash, all of your previous concerns simply melt away, just like that.

You looked beautiful. Ethereal.

And in the moment, you became painfully aware of all of the years that you had spent attending to the romantic wants and needs of everyone but yourself. Seeing yourself in the dress became an acutely stark reminder that maybe — just maybe — it was time to allow yourself to focus on you.

And despite barely knowing the man before you, watching the way his eyes lit up at the sight of you as you gently strolled into the room — as if he had never seen a sight more beautiful in his life — you think to yourself that if this guy can look at you this way, then imagine the way that someone who loved you would look at you.

Irony.

A few hours later into the evening, the sun setting and air cooling, the four of you say your goodbyes as the staff locks up the shop and the client joyfully heads off and on her way. When only the two of you are left — you and Chan — you let go a heavy sigh of relief, one that feels as though it had made a happy home in your chest, never to be evicted or removed in any way.

“What a horrifically stressful day,” you start, as to set the tone of the conversation and not let the man before you get any ideas that you may have actually enjoyed any part of the goings on of the day. “But she was happy, that’s all that matters.”

“Is that so?” Chan replies, a hint of doubt in his tone. “You really hated it that much? You looked pretty.”

The compliment sends heat rushing to your face. Since when was that a side effect of engaging with this gentleman?

“I guess it’s good that you played along,” you say, pulling your messy ponytail out and beginning to put it back up into a more well-maintained one. “It’ll be a really positive memory for her, and that’s my job, after all.”

Chan simply watches you, taking in every moment as if it’ll be the last because really, who knows.

“Anyways, since she was so happy, if you don’t have anything going on tonight—“

“Yes.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to say!” you respond in a playful-yell, slapping at his arm, but Chan only laughs.

“I do know what you were going to say! You were going to ask me out! I said yes!”

“I wasn’t going to ask you out!” you quip, slightly embarrassed by how transparent you had seemingly been. “I was going to agree to going out with you, since you had asked me before, they’re different things, actually.”

“Ah, I see,” Chan replies, only playing along with your asinine explanation but not willing to push it any further because in the end — he was getting precisely what it was that he had wanted all along. “Well in that case, I know just the place.”

Only a few blocks down the street and a quick right, Chan stops and holds his hand out as if you usher you ahead of him. Gray, stone steps trailing down into what appears to be a basement, hole in the wall type establishment — you’re almost a little concerned. This is an upper class area of the city, and this is where he takes you? And it’s as if the man just behind you is capable of reading your mind, chiming out “just trust me, you’ll like it.”

You open the door, holding it for him to follow, and the dimly lit atmosphere almost sweeps you just off your feet. A beautiful, antique adorned establishment, decorated as if to appeal to numerous generations before; but in the most swanky, high class, way. The type of surroundings that just about anyone from any walk of life could find charm in.

So shocked, you forget that you had stopped to take in the sights.

“Come on, let’s not linger in the doorway,” Chan says as he passes, cheeky-toned and knowing that he had caught you.

Shrugging your coat off, you hang it on the rack and take a seat next to him at the bar. Drinks are ordered and quickly served due to it not being a busy night, and Chan wastes no time getting into the nitty-gritty of what it was he was interested in: you. Everything about you. Where you’re from, where you live now, where you went to school and what you studied and your hobbies — it’s all things that he, of course, has a genuine interest in — but that doesn’t change the fact that they are but stepping stones to the meat and potatoes of what it was that he really wanted to know.

Your relationship status. Are you single. Are you looking. Are you open to the possibility of falling in love, and not just with anyone, but with him, specifically.

Although, perhaps he would not be one to lean so hard into the tail end of the obvious.

“Truth is,” you begin, shimmering glass of red wine pressed delicately to your already stained-red lips. “I’ve been single for a while. Sort of on purpose, I suppose. I wanted to focus on work and really get my career going for a while before I put time and effort into adding another person into my life.”

“Is that serving you?” Chan questions, his own glass mirroring yours against his mouth.

You pause for a moment to consider the answer — remembering how you felt in that fleeting moment back at the dress shop, seeing yourself in that dress. Was it serving you?

“Yeah, I think so,” you finally answer in an accompanying nod, “I think it’s important to be able to be happy by oneself before attempting cohabitation of some sort.”

And Chan chuckles in response, much to your surprise. “'Cohabitation’ makes it sound so clinical, like the concept of dating someone is a science experiment.”

“Isn’t it sort of?”

“Yeah, suppose it is, in ways.”

“What about you?”

And now he pauses, thinking himself through the slew of potential replies that bounce through his mind in an instant — some more insane than others, admittedly.

“Happily single, but always open to the possibility.”

“I think that’s a good way to look at it.”

Chan takes a slow sip from his glass and eyes you intently, as if trying to gauge your interest in his answers based purely off of a single, minute, change in facial expression. Hell, he wanted it so bad he was willing to make it up himself.

It’s the gentle curly of your lip at his reply that catches him off guard — burned into his memory forever and always — or at least until a moment were to come that the two of you would have made enough memories together that such an insignificant one need not be held onto for so long anymore.

Drink glasses emptied and coats slung back over shoulders, the two of you head back out and onto the chilled sidewalk to head your own separate ways. You can’t help but take notice of the way Chan looks at you — eyes shining in the florescence of the street lamp just behind you — the first time that you acknowledge to yourself that you think he is handsome, as well as the first time you acknowledge that feeling in your chest that you get when he happens to come around.

It’s a bad time.

“Look, I had a nice time but—“

Chan rolls his eyes in response already, and you haven’t even finished the sentence.

“What? You’re a client…kind of.”

“I’m not, and on top of that, I can assure you that they would not care at all! They’d probably think it was cute, actually. I’m sure Minho would already have so many stories to tell at our wedding from the first consultation.”

“Well that’s not reassuring,” you snort, “telling me I was already so memorably unprofessional from the beginning, huh?”

“Only in my eyes, don’t worry, they loved you.”

“Chan!”

“Come on, I’m kidding,” he replies again, “it’s not a big deal, they wouldn’t think anything of it. You’re making it into a bigger deal than it would be in your head.”

You know that that is likely the case. You also know that it’s just so easy to say one thing — like that one is ever so willing to look for love — and then construct the simplest walls given to you to avoid it at all costs.

The two of you still in silence for a moment, as if in a stand-off of sorts, but you more than capable of breaking the silence and constructing just one more wall — for good measure, of course.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” you say, with finality. “Thank you for tonight, I had a nice time.”

Chan thinks to himself as he watches you walk away, that if it were any other woman, in any other circumstance, he would have already live and let live. That even in watching the way you turn him down and walk away, that you’re still simply the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. Musing about every word that you said and the way in which you said it — how your glass of red wine stained your lips just the perfect amount that it made it nearly unbearable to not kiss them, how pretty your hands looked around the wine glass and how cute your smile was every time he said something that — purposefully, of course — you found mildly irritating.

Making his way to his empty apartment again, and standing just outside, Chan knows that there is progress made.

But what are you running from?

When you hear the jingling of the front door, and look down to your planner to find nothing having been scheduled for that time, you know that trouble is awaiting you in the lobby — trouble in the form of a kinda beefy, 171cm handsome gentleman by the name of Bang Chan.

Eh, suppose things could always be worse.

Lazily buttoning the deep maroon button of your vest as to look presentable, you look up and lock eyes with him as you come around the bend and into the front of the establishment. Chan — in all of his glory — a fitting pair of jeans for once and a shirt to match, you’re a little surprised. Had he made the effort all for you? Charming, if not for the fact that you told him you weren’t going to date him only a week prior to now.

Some men have a problem taking ‘no’ for an answer, unfortunately, sometimes it’s kind of charming when that’s the case, as well.

“Honey, I’m home!” Chan chimes, and you roll your eyes as you make your way to the front desk and seat yourself down.

“Yes Chan? Can I help you?”

“Always.”

“With something involving my job in some capacity.”

“Oh, right, that!” he answers. You know that he knows what you mean, he’s always just doing his utmost to be as much of a problem as possible. You’re not happy about how charming you find that, either.

“So, rehearsal dinner is in two weeks, on Thursday.”

“I know that, it’s my job to know that, I already talked to the bride two days ago.”

“Well I’m not here to tell you about it, I’m here to ask you to be my date to it.”

The brazen admission takes you off guard. It wasn’t really the first time Chan had ever asked you out, but this felt…different. Perhaps because of the night at the bar not too long prior.

You weren’t particularly fond of the way it made your stomach flip, either.

“I’ll be there, but for work, not for fun.”

“For pleasure, I think is how they call it,” he corrects, and you’re not proud of what the implications of that do to your mind.

You clear your throat, Chan watching all the while with a grin, and avoiding eye contact altogether, you stand again — pulling some items from the counter top into your arms and heading into the back from where you came.

“Right, well,” you say, attempting to play off how flustered you’ve now become in his incredibly flirtatious presence. “I have work to get back to, so, I will see you at the rehearsal — because it is my job and I suppose that you will also be there.”

With a smile on his face and eyes never leaving your form, before you’re able to scurry off to freedom, one last thing leaves his lips — because of course it does.

“Do a little something nice with your hair, it’s an occasion, isn’t it?”

You had never felt the need to keep a pillow to scream into in the back end of your office prior, but perhaps now were as good a time as any to invest.

On rehearsal night, catching your reflection in one of the mirrors of the wedding venue, you sort of wish that you had been a stronger person. You wonder how it was, exactly, that this man that you truly, barely knew, had managed to wear down your resolve in such a way that you were playing dress up for him. No, your attire not different than a typical work day — you were still on the clock, after all.

But your hair. And you can’t stand the way Chan looks to the floor with a smile when he first catches glance of you. Well, can’t stand it, and also sort of adore it.

“So, the brides mother, father, and sister we’re thinking of having here — but if there’s something that I’m missing, let me know so I can arrange it in a way that—“

“Hey there.”

Frozen in place, you don’t have to turn to check who it is anymore, and meeting eyes with the catering planner you had been speaking to, you smile gently before motioning that you need a moment, and turning towards Chan. “I’m working, can you give me a moment?”

“We need you to sit in for rehearsal, we’re missing someone.”

“Absolutely not, are you crazy?”

“Come on, you only have to pretend you have a crush on me, you don’t really have to have one.”

Turning back to the caterer in an instant, you insist that you’ll email the finalized plans over to him right away in the morning before finishing your conversation with Chan.

“If you keep interrupting me at work, I might not have a crush on you, real or make believe.”

“I think it’ll take more than that,” he replies with a cheeky grin, and nodding his head over towards the table, “now get over here and pretend you’re in love with me.”

It’s sort of sick, how easy it is for him to talk you into it. All of it. Any of it.

When the seating plan goes smoothly, and all of the wedding participants stand to take in slow views of the rest of the venue ahead of the big day, as you finish off some notes, Chan saunters over towards you with two glasses of wine in hand. “Come out with me?”

Stepping out and onto the large, white stoned balcony, you sigh in relief at how smooth the night had gone. You explain to Chan that — even in spite of having done the job for years, there’s always parts of every new client experience that feel brand new, that you feel as though you’ve never done before. Chan gazes on intently as he watches you speak with vigor, with self-respect, and with love and adoration for yourself. He thinks, in that moment, it might truly be the sexiest thing about you — at least, thus far.

When the gentle wind blows your lightly curled hair to one side and sends a shiver down your spine, Chan reaches out and pulls you towards him — into his warm embrace.

“It’s still chilly this time of year, yeah?” he says, and it’s almost a whisper. Perhaps the quietest you think you’ve ever heard him.

You opt out of responding verbally, and silently enjoy the warmth the man brings to you.

“Hey,” he says again, suddenly, and pulling you from him ever so slightly. Again, you choose not to reply, assuming that there were to be more words following up such a statement.

But you were soon to find that to not be the case — as Chan leans down and into you, plush lips gently pressing into your own.

The warmest you had felt all evening, you think to yourself — and perhaps interested in more where that came from, after all.

A short drive in Chan’s car lands the both of you in front of your apartment building — a gentleman, having offered his services of bringing you home in one piece — albeit, the thoughts of being torn apart by him figuratively becoming more and more of interest to you as the moments near him pass. Surely, one glass of wine wasn’t enough to throw all caution to the wind.

Unless…?

“Can I walk you up?”

Grabbing your belongings from the floor of the front seat, you chuckle. “Not much to walk, my building has an elevator.”

“Wow, fancy,” he replies smugly. “Didn’t know you had elevator-money in this sort of economy.”

“Go to Hell, yes you can walk me up, sheesh.”

His playfulness was what really had you, and you hated to see it. Broken down by the childlike innocence and joy of someone who was becoming more intriguing, more desirable, and more sexually attractive by the second. Truly, what had happened to your resolve?

Manicured finger pressed into the up arrow button, the elevator is silenced completely — no indication of it ever having registered the button being pressed at all. You press it again, and still nothing.

You sigh.

“Broken?” he says.

“Probably just asleep,” you quip back, “yes it’s broken. Have to take the stairs I suppose — you don’t have to come, I live on the fourth floor, I’m sure I can make it.”

“Better safe than sorry, really.”

Rolling your eyes, the both of you head towards the stairwell — all the while you hoping the slamming beating of your heart against your chest won’t reverberate through the echoing halls of the winding concrete cave that you are about to enter.

Floors two and three go without a hitch — well, mostly. It’s between three and four, that you realize there was never any Chance of you getting out of this stairwell unscathed. Or un-somethinged, at least.

He had plans all along.

“Hey,” Chan quietly calls towards you from behind, a hand reaching out and snatching your wrist from behind. It’s gentle, but enough to have you stumbling ever so slightly. He catches you — turning and pressing your back against the cold, white, wall — and them himself even harder against you.

Hot breath ghosting against the skin of your face, Chan’s lips fail to make contact with your own — instead opting to press into your jaw, and then your neck — and not without the direct contact of his hard thigh wedged into the apex of your own.

You’re a little ashamed of how little it took for him to pull from you a verbal response. It wasn’t much, but a breathy whine all the same — and you can feel the curling of his lips against you in affirmation that he had, in fact, heard it.

“I want you,” he whispers into your flesh, and the admission makes you dizzy with desire, pressing yourself down and against his leg for friction even more — as if to say that you felt the same way.

“Do you want me?” he follows up, mildly irritated at the fact that he’s asking, given the physical cues, but you still manage the breathy “yes” that he had been waiting oh so long for.

Chan thinks that it sounds so much better than he had ever even imagined it would. Unfortunate that this was not to be the time nor the place.

Pulling away, the loss of body against your own leaves you confused and frazzled — chest heaving and eyebrows furrowed, but you choose not to speak, because surely he would.

Because what the fuck?

And right on cue, “not now, I mean—“ he pauses, looking down at the tenting in his own pants and adjusting as for it to be not as obvious in the case of running into other people. “Not here, or now.”

“My apartment is right there—“

“I know,” he nods, “trust me, I want to — obviously — but I like you, so—“

“You can’t have sex with someone you like? Are you one of those Madonna-whore type guys? I knew there had to be something wrong with you.” You spiral off, adjusting your pants and trying to gather yourself properly. Chan merely laughs in response for a moment.

“No, it’s nothing like that, I’m perfectly capable of fucking you,” he answers clearly, and with decisiveness. “And I will, presumably. But let’s get to know each other a bit more first, yeah?”

“Oh my God,” you exclaim, a little annoyed at the games that Chan seemingly loves to play with you, and yet, willing to continue playing them on his terms all the same. “Fine, I guess I’ll get to know you or whatever.” Playful sarcasm dripping from the tail end of your response.

He laughs, gentle smile taking his features — and in his mind, all of the ways he plans to have you when the time is right.

When Chan shows up to your place of employment only three days later, it’s bad timing. The truth of the matter, is that it’s always bad timing, that’s the nature of a fast paced job such as your own, though. Shoving items into a bag and slinging it over your shoulder — followed by desperately trying to free your ponytail from the confines of the sling as you run towards the door, you only manage out with a “let’s go, move, move!” as you rush past the man in the doorway.

By now, Chan knows better than to ask very many questions. He’s quick on the uptake. He knows what he may sign up for upon arrival. Today? A handful of miscellaneous binders — sticky notes and fabrics sticking out of the tops, bottoms and sides of them.

“Already comfortable with bossing me around, huh?” he says, a brisk stride catching him up to you on the sidewalk as the both of you hustle down the concrete path.

“You know how it is,” you say, “if you’re gonna be here then I’m gonna put you to work.”

“I kind of like it,” flirtation lacing his voice. “Being told what to do by a beautiful woman definitely isn’t the worst way to spend the day.”

“That’s what you like? I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Maybe, can’t give everything away on the first date, I’m not easy.”

“So I noticed.”

You take notice of how easy it is now to engage in these types of conversations with him. Cute, curly blonde hair flowing in the breeze as you both run-walk towards the destination a couple of blocks away — you’d be lying if you said that it wasn’t a charm point — his absolute willingness to go above and beyond already. Carry things. Help you at work. Hell, he had sort of already showed up for you better than a lot of the guys you had dated in the past.

And now the flirting — playfully toying with each other in tone and topic that borders, if not fully crosses, the line of appropriateness — especially with you being on the clock.

Not that anyone is with the two of you to monitor the conversation. Or know that he took you home the other night. Or any of the other misdoings of that particular evening.

“Place is up here, did you come by for a reason or do you have a sixth sense for when I need help carrying things?” you ask, finally slowing down when the time on your phone insists that you have perhaps a minute or two to spare extra.

“Yeah, actually—“ he starts, slowing down next to you and stopping to face. “I wanted to ask you to be my date to the wedding.”

And you’re floored. That’s your immediate, gut, response anyways, but the more you grant a second to it, the more unsurprising you become.

He either genuinely does not understand how your job works and what proper boundaries are, or he just truly does not care. You’re fairly certain you know which it is.

“Chan, I’m working the event—“

“No, I know!” he interrupts suddenly, and for the first time it appears as though he had actually put some thought into it, and the inappropriateness of such a situation. “It can be our little secret. Just between us two.”

Looking down at your phone to check the time, and following it with an exhausted sigh, you roll your eyes. “Then what’s even the point?”

One corner of Chan’s mouth pulls up, and now you know he put thought into this. Which may or may not be advised, after all.

“The real fun would be after the event, obviously.”

Visually, you give off no tells, that of which you’re sure, but inside? Screaming, at the top of your lungs.

You’re not entirely sure if he means sex, or a date, or sex and a date or what he means at all. A man with something sly constantly up his sleeve, you simply had to assume: all of the above.

And so, you agree.

Weeks pass, and you’re surprised by the fact that when the night of the wedding comes around, Chan is actually no where to be found all of the time prior. The man that could not resist the urge to bother you at work, suddenly ghosting you? Were you being ghosted? Did he lose interest? Perhaps the allure of sleeping with the cute wedding planner had worn off all just before the big night itself. Tragic, you think to yourself, you didn’t even get to sleep with him, after all.

But when he meets you for the first time at the reception near the open bar — a smooth hand brushing the small of your back — so brief that no one nearby would ever catch it, the glimmer in his eye is enough to let you know that the plan is, in fact, still on.

And through the sound of a private bathroom door slamming against the wall, and your back up against it — met once again with the enticingly crushing weight of him against you as his mouth meets your own in fervent, needy kisses — you forget why you thought it was ever off anyways.

“W-we have to go back out there, Chan—“ you manage out between mouths and gasps of breath, fingers curled into the white coat of his blazer. “You wore white? That’s so tacky.”

“Not my choice, bride wanted it,” he answers back in similar neediness and much more expressed disinterest in the topic. “I want you.”

“Last time you said that—“ and Chan kisses you on the mouth hard again. “—last time you said that you didn’t do anything about it.”

“And I can’t again, not yet anyways.”

“Not into exhibitionism?”

“I don’t perform well under pressure.”

You laugh as he pulls away from you, allowing you to straighten yourself up to go back out into the public eye. “You’d be terrible at my job.”

“I know, just the most soft-dicked wedding planner ever, it’d be humiliating,” Chan chuckles, leaning back to check himself in the mirror as well before reaching forward and placing his hand on the door knob. “Good?”

“Good.”

As the reception carries on, you stand back to watch from a distance — available when necessary but for the most part, out of the way. For all intents and purposes, the large portion of your job was finished. The clients were happy, and the night a beautiful one — dimly lit fairy lights and silver plating along white, linen tables. You watch as Minho and his bride share a dance together, smiling into one another's eyes. Truly and madly in love.

A moment later, you catch Chan’s from across the room — a look held in time longer than it would typically be held. You feel it in your chest more than anything, and more than that, you’re hopeful that he might be catching the same.

When the night festivities finally come to a close — shaking more hands than you remember ever having mingled with in all of your time working with the client, Chan finally makes his way over towards you as the crowd dissipates — two glasses of wine just as he had offered on the rehearsal night, and you grin at him knowingly.

“Remember what happened the last time I had a glass of wine on the terrace with you?”

“Nothing much, as far as my recollection goes.”

Following him out and looking out towards the view, a breeze passes by the both of you — warmer than the last time, inviting, almost. Your gaze pulls from the trees and the buildings before you and towards the man next to you — handsome and charming and seemingly full of love and passion.

Had he…all of the things that you were looking for in a man?

Feeling your piercing gaze, he turns towards you — ashamed at your gawking, you chuckle lightly and bring your wine glass to your lips, but Chan only smiles in adoration of you.

Inhaling, Chan begins to speak.

“I’m not going to sleep with you—“

It’s sudden, and sends Chan visibly reeling — so much so that you feel the need to amend the statement in earnest.

“What I mean is like, like a one night stand…hook-up sort of thing.“

Eyebrows gently furrowing, Chan remains silent as he watches you talk through your thoughts in real time, not wanting to interrupt where ever it was that you were intending on going with this.

“I— I have feelings, so,” you stutter out, avoiding direct eye contact and instead, choosing to speak to the golden liquid in your glass. “So I don’t think it’s a good idea, is all. Sorry.”

Silence takes the balcony briefly. Seconds that feel like years to you, but in real time, Chan responds quite immediately. To that, you are thankful.

“What? Of course I’m interested in you. I’ve always been interested in you,” he says, “I don’t carry around binders full of color swatches just for any ol’ woman I want to sleep with, are you kidding me?”

“Chan shut up! I’m being serious!”

“I know, I know—“ he giggles, avoiding your playful slap to his arm. “I am, too. I’m serious.”

And taking a step forward, Chan leans down into you once again. It’s not the first kiss that the two of you have shared, and hell, not even of the night.

But it was different. It was new in all of the ways that love is and can be. The blossoming feeling of being seen and held by the one person that you wish to perceive you.

Walking back inside as the catering staff begin cleaning up the remains of the evening, Chan turns to you and takes a deep breath, as if somewhat insecure about where to go now.

“So,” he begins, the word exhaled through his mouth as if attempting to mask it to be as unheard as possible. “Want to come back to my place, then?”

You look at him with feigned surprise before replying, “aww, look at you. You look so shy now. What happened to tough guy in the bathroom a few hours back?”

“Tough guy has to perform now, if you say yes. Remember what I said about pressure?” Chan laughs in response.

You lean in to whisper, as to not allow any passerby into your banter. “Are you warning me of something?”

“Doubtful, but imagine how good it’s going to be if you go in with low expectations.”

“You’re so annoying.”

Turning off his car, you take a deep breath before grabbing your bags and moving towards crawling out of the passenger side of the vehicle.

“Nervous?” he asks. It’s obvious, after all.

“A little, I guess? Kind of silly since I’m a grown woman.”

“Not really, pretty normal,” he says, opening the car door and ushering himself out as well. “On the bright side, you don’t have to climb any flights of stairs, my building elevator works.”

“Elevator? After everything you said about mine! Jerk.”

Finally stepping foot into the mans apartment, you realize in the moment that you had never given even an inkling of a thought to what it would look like prior.

Nice furnishings, a clean kitchen area, and a bed that’s made — despite a relatively small apartment, it was well kept, and if you didn’t know any better you would think that he weren’t a single man at all.

“Want anything to drink?” he asks from behind you, rustling around with keys and coats by the door. You hum in response that you don’t need anything.

The next thing you know, you’re being hauled off towards the bedroom, in a set of arms much more muscular than you ever remember them being.

Dropping you back first onto the mattress, Chan wastes no timing climbing up the length of your body and nestling himself between your legs — mouths making contact yet again, and more needy than ever before — Chan only stops long enough to pull his own shirt off and over his head, thrown across his bedroom before settling back down and against you.

It lasts only momentarily, however — the heat of the moment quickly over taking him as he becomes acutely aware of how much clothing you are wearing and how much he desperately does not want that to be the case. Ushering himself up and onto his knees, he begins fingering at the buttons of your blouse, and smiles as your own hands reach down towards the buttons of your slacks.

“Can I take this off?” Chan asks hurriedly, already gently pulling you up and off of the mattress as if he anticipates the affirmative response. He receives it, of course, and slings the fabric along with the previously discarded of his own.

“In a rush?” you giggle, lying back down and watching his hands work in a rush against all of the confines keeping the distance between his skin and your own intact.

“A little bit, should I slow down?”

“No, it’s okay, we have more time for slowing down in the future.”

“That’s what I was thinking,” Chan responds, motioning himself in reverse to create space to pull your pants from your legs. “That reminds me though, be my girlfriend?”

“You’re asking me now?” you laugh, the only clothing remaining on your body a pair of panties.

“Should I wait until i’m in?”

“You should shut up.”

“I’ll take that as a 'yes’ then.”

Chan makes fast work of his own jeans, kicking them along with his boxer briefs off before climbing back onto the bed, and you realize that you’re staring.

And unfortunately, that he notices, too. A cheeky grin, followed by a bright redness to his ears. It’s not often that you see him shy, but you can’t help but enjoy the sight.

Well, both sights.

Reaching down and hooking fingers into the remaining fabric, he pulls them from you and wastes no time pressing two fingers against — and then into you. A dull stretch, relieving in a sense — the feeling that this is finally going to happen, and apparently you had desired it much more than you had thought going in.

Chan leans down, pressing his mouth against yours only to trail his lips down your jaw, up and over towards your ear. Gently pressing his hand into you, you exhale a whiny — and you can hear the way it makes his own breath hitch.

“I want you,” he whispers into you, and if not for the fact that you knew it would finally happen, you might be annoyed by the admission.

“Please,” is all you can groan out, but thankfully, it’s all that he needs.

Pulling back and off of you again, Chan leans over to his dresser, opening the small wooden drawer and fishing out a plastic packet before ripping it open with his teeth and gently motioning it along himself.

As Chan leans back down into you, you feel the beginning of his gentle intrusion — guided by his hand in the beginning, then by the sharp inhale of your breath at the stretch. Forearms flat against the mattress on either side of your head, biting into your lip and eyes screwed shut — Chan groans under his breath as he presses himself all of the way into you, fully buried in your warm, wetness.

“God—“ he exhales into your mouth, you swallow it down happily, his admission of submission to you. “You feel amazing.”

“You feel—“ you begin, feeling as though it necessary of you to meet him halfway in the discussion. After all, no one likes to be left hanging all alone. But it’s the slow, drag of his pull out, followed by another velvety push inside that catches the words in your throat and only allows them out in the form of a groaned out “fuck.”

Only a few more strokes before Chan is able to get his head screwed on properly again — enough to make use of himself at least — and settles into a slow, strong pace against you. Bringing a hand up, he finds your hair and wraps fingers into it — not pulling, but as if you keep you grounded, keep you in place for him — for the both of you, in a way.

“Ch-Chan, I—“ you whisper against his cheek, voice shaky and seemingly already fucked out.

He snaps his attention to, albeit a bit surprised by the fact. “Already?”

You nod quickly. Followed by a sigh of relief from him.

“Oh thank God, I'm so cl-close—“

Digging your nails into his strong shoulders, you feel your abdomen tighten in impending release, and it’s only a few more strokes before he’s pulling it from you — teeth gritted hard, unsure about the potential of a noise complaint from any neighboring people and not wanting to risk it — you groan loudly into the flesh of his arm, only causing him to meet you the same — three, four especially hard, rough pounds against you before he’s clenching his eyes shut and emptying into the barrier between you.

Rolling off of you to lie in next, chests heaving even in spite of the short session, Chan tosses his arm across his face and chuckles to himself after only a minute or two of silence between you.

“I’ve been waiting to do that for weeks.”

You giggle, snuggling up towards him. “Yeah? I could tell.”

“Hey, hey, hey!” he snaps back, bringing his closest arm to you up and around you. “Give me time, it’s been a while, alright?”

Tying off the condom eventually and getting up for glasses of water, he hands you one as the both of you sit at the edge of the bed.

“Burgundy and gold, right?”

The sudden thought catches you off guard, because what does that have to do with anything?

“Wh-what—?”

“Your wedding colors, burgundy and gold, was it?”

And now you’re really caught off guard, because he…remembered that?

“Yes, how do you remember that?”

You watch him smile, looking down into his glass of water before turning back towards you with his grin never diminishing. Chan leans in and kisses you on the forehead delicately before answering the question.

“Gonna be important,” he begins, “can’t hire you to work your own event, now can I?”

♡ send me your thoughts and feelings in my ask.

—this is a oneshot, there will be no part 2.

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dannyphantom-zero · 3 months

Text

Doctor Danny: First official chapter

The busy hospital was on its last leg. Nurses and interns were scattered, running around like mice.

Sounds of trauma care patients and emergency care patients alarms were constantly ringing.

In the midst of it all, one calm collected doctor cared tenderly for each patient.

He, was Danny Fenton, who used to be known for having two crazy ghost enthusiasts for parents. He still loved his parents despite how hard it was growing up as half ghost.

Jazz had told them a long time ago and they had ignored it for the most part. Like that side of him didn't exist.

It had hurt at the time but Danny had managed to move past it. After successfully securing his position as ghost king (on accident) he put his newfound authority to good use making the ghosts swear a vow to behave.

A ghost vow is a big deal, which is why Danny swore a vow in return acknowledging them, if ever a ghost were in danger he would help them.

After the lack of ghost attacks Danny found he had next to nothing to do. His only hobby outside of playing video games had been ghost fighting. He hadn't realized how used to it he had gotten.

Danny hadn't even picked the college he wanted to go to yet.

Danny approached the Nasty Burger, his last refuge.

That's when he noticed a man who seemed a little out of it. The man stumbled making Danny wonder if he was drunk.

Danny turned to go inside when the man collapsed. Danny rushed over to the man and rolled him on his back. He checked for a pulse but couldn't find one.

Of course he wasn't exactly medically trained.

Danny dialed nine-one-one and started to perform CPR as best he could.

He explained to the operator clearly the situation and the ambulance came in no time.

Later that night Danny was processing the events in his head and instead of feeling scared or nervous he felt excited.

He was thrilled to have something to get his blood pumping again. Which is why he applied for med school. He studied hard, using all the time he had to memorize all the medical information that he could.

After graduation he interned at Amity Parks local hospital before moving up his position to resident.

Only a week after getting his new position he was forced to leave the hospital. It was closing because of a lack of funding.

"Please sir! What about the staff or the patients?"

The head of the medical board shook his head.

"Dr. Fenton, this hospital runs on little to nothing to begin with, we are lucky to have even made it this far. The patients will be transfered and the staff, relocated"

Danny furrowed his brows in concern.

"Don't worry Dr. Fenton, your quite literally the best we've seen walk these halls, your sure to get a good recommendation"

Danny clenched his fist.

"What are my options?" He asked.

The board looked at his sheet, flipping several until he found the right one on his clipboard.

"You said you wanted to work at a busy hospital right?"

Danny nodded yes.

"There aren't too many around here, the busiest hospital I can think of belongs to a crime ridden city a bit far from here." He said.

"Gotham City"

Danny's breath hitched. He had heard about Gotham before. It was notorious for its villains.

Despite that, it was alluring.

"There! Send me to Gothams hospital!" He said suddenly and eagerly.

"Okay, if you say so. Do us all a favor and survive alright"

Danny laughed, "sure, I'll do my best. No promises though"

Just like that Danny packed up moved to Gotham.

He had little time to research Gotham before hand but he had heard several mutters in passing of a place called Crime Alley, a strange nickname for sure.

Danny was sure that this place would either be completely clean due to police intervention or incredibly overrun.

Danny signed a lease at the Shirley Apartments.

"Are you sure about this young man" the desk lady asked him.

He smiled kindly.

"Yes I am, I've heard the rumors and have weighed the risk. In the end it might be helpful to know just how my patients love to receive the injuries they do"

The lady sighed.

"That's right, you said your a doctor. Be careful out there, any talent in Gotham is either warped by a villain or destroyed"

Danny was a little startled by the warning, apparently there was even more to Gotham than he knew.

"I'm sorry I forgot to ask for your name"

"Didn't give one, in Gotham it's best to remain anonymous"

Danny blinked a little surprised.

"It's that dangerous, well I'll take your word for it then, thank you miss" he said as he took the key from her.

He had been able to store the old car his dad had given to him in a locked garage. He wasn't sure how well it would hold up but there was only so much he could do against humans.

Ghost powers had little, of any, effect on humans when it came to offense. Defensively they were pretty great to have.

He had only brought five boxes with him, no furniture. Back in Amity he had been busy studying and had brushed aside buying furniture.

Unfortunately that meant he had no bed.

Danny was glad to have found a beaten up wardrobe. It was missing it's doors and was leaning to the side, even so Danny was able to fix it and hang his clothes up in it.

He grabbed one of the boxes and smiled warmly when he saw a Fenton Emergency pack inside.

His mom must've stuffed it there when he was looking, lucky for him it had a sleeping bag.

An air mattress would've been nice too, but it's the thought that counts.

Danny safely stored his two favorite pictures. One of him with his family and one with his friends.

They were hidden just in case someone decided to break in, not that there would be much to find anyway but it never hurt to be careful.

Danny went to sleep soon after despite the sounds of the city.

Danny woke up feeling refreshed. He grabbed his bags and hopped in his car.

Danny hadn't realized how busy Gothams hospital actually was. Danny pulled into Gotham General and as soon as he was in his scrubs and coat he was dragged into the frey.

"We need a doctor over here!" Someone called just as Danny had finished with a patient.

Despite having to run around all day Danny wasn't tired, his ghost half supplied him energy after his human side ran dry.

All in all Danny first day on the job was hectic and he had worked for fourteen hours.

Once he was back in his apartment Danny set up a table that he had pre ordered online.

Then he got to work. According to his knowledge, most of his patients had suffered from some kind of attack or other.

Most of the heavy hitters were villains named Joker, Penguin and two face.

The riddler was taken care of, Poison Ivy had been rehabilitated and Harley Quinn had broken free from Jokers choke hold on her.

There was also the less obvious villains, like the business man lex Luther.

Lex Luther was shady at best, while no one could get hard evidence on him most people knew to be wary.

But just being informed didn't stop them from falling into his traps.

Lately Bruce had done official business with Lex Luther, which made him a suspicious person whom Danny had decided to keep tabs on, he was wary of the rich and for good reasons.

The cork board above Danny table has a litter of documents and pictured pined by red string. The players who were out of the game were crossed off.

Then there were the vigilantes. A few of them had been known to be rough, a necessary violence.

Still they seemed to have little awareness of what their little battles did to other people. Because many people came in for minor injuries due to being caught in the crossfire.

Which meant Danny had to find a way to keep everybody in line so patients would decrease in number. Danny let himself sleep for four hours before returning to the hospital.

"Oh my gosh, Doctor Fenton is still here" one nurse whispered. It had been a full day and half, Danny was running on his ghost half that seemed to keep replenishing itself due to the toxic air of Gotham. A positive side effect.

"How does he never get tired?"

"Maybe he's superhuman" one girl cracked. They noticed as he rushed by them to get to another patient.

"He's quite handsome too" one said wistfully, "but who wants a husband that works all the time"

Danny noticed the next patient seemed tense and he kept screaming for his daughter.

Danny whispered in the man's ear and put a hand on his forehead. He had used a ghost technique he learned from Nocturne and the man calmed down.

The other doctors were impressed as they worked to care for the man's injuries.

Finally the head of the unit noticed Danny and after reviewing his chart had forced him to go home.

"I don't feel fatigued at all sir, I promise I am not compromised. I can care for the patients"

The head wasn't having any of it.

"Above all your health is just as important as the patients we care for. For them to get healthy, you have to be healthy. Go home Dr.Fenton, you can come back after you get at least ten hours of sleep."

Danny wanted to argue but he knew the head was right.

"Yes sir" he said before changing into civilian clothes and leaving the hospital.

Now that he was out of a hospital setting things like hunger started to appear.

Maybe he had been to focused to notice how hungry he had been.

Danny blearily noticed a fast food place. His instincts told him the food would be greasy and way too unhealthy.

Mmm, comfort food.

The nostalgia fought with his doctoral instincts and won. All Danny wanted was to sit in a booth and eat some greasy food.

Danny ordered the double cheeseburger with bacon with a side of ten pieces chicken nuggets and large order of fries.

Waiting, even for five minutes, was starting to make Danny ravenous. As soon as he got his food he sat down and started gorging himself.

It was pretty good food for a little fast food place in the world's worst city.

Danny liked the tenderness and crispiness of the burger, the cheese was melted just right too.

Danny dipped his nuggets in sweet n' sour sauce while fighting the urge to kick his legs like a happy little kid.

As Danny left the restraint he saw an alert on his phone for a villain attack and rushed to the scene.

To his satisfaction the culprits were already being hauled away in police custody. They were just small fries, not of them appeared connected to a big player, so Danny was free to shut them out of his mind.

Which is exactly what he did. Danny drove back to his apartment and let out a sigh of relief.

That's when he noticed his door was slightly ajar.

His guard was up immediately. Danny stepped inside cautiously. He was relieved when everything appeared untouched but the scare had sent him a trip to get stronger locks.

On his way back to his car from the store he heard sound of a glass bottle breaking in a nearby alley. It was small alley, from what Danny could tell it was also a dead end alley.

Taking a risk Danny stepped in and chills went down his spine when he heard labored breathing.

Danny rushed over and froze at what he saw.

#danny phantom #danny fenton #dc universe #batman #dpxdc #redhood #JL #DoctorDanny #batfam

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writersdrug · 2 months

Text

Ghost x Reader x Konig: I Don't Need You (Ch. 10)

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Summary: Thankfully, things have been resolved between you and Konig. You start to settle in more with your team, and Roze shares a few thoughts with you over a smoke. The memories are still there, but just like the winter around you, they're cold and unwelcoming. You and Konig open up to each other a bit more, more than you had ever opened up to anyone.

WARNINGS: implications of masturbation, cursing, angst (if you squint?), plot building, graphic depictions of animal torture and death (PLEASE CONSIDER ALL WARNINGS BEFORE READING THIS, I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR THE MEDIA YOU CONSUME thank you kindly)

Notes: Yes! Hello! I exist!! I've been in a slump, and I really do apologize for that. Many of you have been very patient with me and I love and appreciate you all for it! I had to intake as much CoD literature as I could in the past few weeks to get me motivated, which helped a LOT (not to mention I discovered no fewer than ten works that currently have a hold on my heart). But it's here! I forced myself to write over half of the following chapter so that it would be less daunting to finish up. I also plan to make a wip post for yall, just to share will everyone what goes on in my rat brain.

This was edited at 3 am (god it's 4 am now, i just saw that), so if there are any grammatical or spelling errors you have my full consent to call me out on it! Please enjoy!

(sidenote, I completely didn't research how old you need to be to become a navy SEAL, so reader's age is a bit inaccurate in regards to that. pls ignore lol)

(last sidenote then you can read, does anyone have tips for customizing the layout of their fics? I see so many cool ways to style the font and cute banners and errything but I have no idea how nor what to do)

- - - -

The sky hung low with a blanket of gray. It looked like it was about to snow, although the threat was soon dismissed when noon came around and there wasn’t a single flake. The air was cold and dry, forcing me to zip my jacket up all the way and tuck my nose into the collar. I blew steady, warm breaths into my jacket and tried to soak up the heat into my bones.

It was as if the incident had never happened.

Konig and I ended up driving to the liquor store, which was a blessing, since I had run out of Yeungling (and I didn’t understand enough Turkish to converse with the clerk, nor did I have any of the appropriate money – Konig was graced with both of those necessities). We talked like there had never been a week and a half of silence between us. He talked about how he had nearly forced Ridgeback to drag me out of my room and into the common area, “… but it would have been too early for that.” He commented. That, and I would have rather died.

So life went on as normal: dreary, aside from shooting people and getting shot at. Nonetheless, it was normal, and there was a peace to be found in that.

I leaned against the building to the training room, with Roze to my left. I had intended to come out and soak up whatever natural light I could – when I saw her standing there, possibly trying to do the same, I felt the instinct to play it off as if I was just leaving the building. But she cocked her head in a greeting, and a part of me took an interest in her worry-free aura. Out of everyone, she always seemed to be the least-stressed person in the room, even in the middle of a warzone. It was the balm to my anxious mind that I never knew I needed, but gratefully stood by.

We remained together in a comfortable silence (one I would most definitely would not have been comfortable with a while ago), staring ahead, watching the indecisiveness of the brooding clouds above. I wondered what the rest of the world was doing – if they might have been as calm and carefree as us, or if they were in some kind of peril, and the horrors of it were blocked out by the clouds.

I was drawn back to the present when I heard the click click click of Roze’s lighter. I turned my head and watched as she shielded the weak flame from the wind, lighting the cigarette that hung loosely from her lips.

“You smoke?” I asked.

“Sure do.” She replied nonchalantly. “Want one?” she extended her pack of cigarettes towards me.

I glanced at the box, feeling a sour taste in my mouth.

I lay on my stomach, my muscles still twitching and shaking as I tried to even out my breaths. Ghost had tossed a thin blanket over my lower half. I hadn’t even moved from the position he had ruthlessly fucked me in – my body ached too much to even try, and my mind was still recovering from the past hour.

I watch Ghost as he reclined next to me, pushing the bottom of his mask up to place a cigarette between his lips. It was the first time I had seen any part of his face all day. He grabbed his lighter from the pocket of his pants that were discarded on the floor, lighting the end of the cigarette and inhaling. He tossed the lighter back down to the floor as he tilted his head back, exhaling a long stream of smoke. I watched it swirl in the lamplight, settling in a cloud around us. He continued puffing, staring at the wall across from the bed as I lay beside him, although I felt worlds away from him.

He'd started off the night with a mountain of stress from a mission gone sideways. Instead of the usual slow build, where he would run his hands under my shirt and kiss my lips slowly and tenderly – he had walked in and immediately demanded I remove my clothes while he began stripping out of his. I had assumed tonight was going to be a passionate one, until he threw me onto my stomach and shoved my face into the pillows. It wasn’t the first time he’d been rough with me, but it wasn’t just rough – it felt dehumanizing. An hour of constant, merciless thrusts, and a hand around my neck that restricted both my blood flow and my oxygen, and I had fallen into a state of shock.

But, in the end, I was happy to be caged in by him again.

I was happy.

He turned his eyes towards me, seeming to sense that something was off. He exhaled another puff of smoke. “Everythin’ alright?” he asked, completely void of any genuine concern.

I met his eyes with my own. I felt like I shouldn’t have to answer the question, and it stirred up a bitterness in me. But I didn’t feel like arguing with him, and I certainly didn’t want him to leave – so I nodded my head, slowly blinking my eyes. “Just tired.”

He hummed and faced the wall again. He brought one of his knees up and rested his arm against it. “Want a smoke?” he asked, still looking away.

I shook my head as much as the pillow beneath me would allow. “No.” I replied.

He sighed disappointedly. Apparently, my lack of enthusiasm after being used like an old fucktoy was irking him.

To be fair, I never spoke up about how I felt.

He grunted and rose from his position, snuffing out his cigarette in the ashtray by my bed, and picking up his clothes and pulling them on. My heart ached slightly as I watched him slide his shirt over his torso. I felt the threat of tears sting in my eyes as I wished his hands were holding me instead, keeping me warm and grounded. He pulled his jeans on and fastened them, buckling his belt rather quickly; and all while he faced away from me.

“Well, I know you probably need some alone time.” He muttered, sliding the skull attachment over his mask. “So I’ll get going. I’ll see you around.”

He grabbed his tactical vest and jacket and slung them over his shoulder. He paused by the door. “Thanks for tonight.” He mumbled, before finally leaving the room and softly closing the door behind him.

My eyes lingered on the ashtray with the half-smoked cigarette. A thin trail of smoke plumed into the air – I wanted to throw the tray across the room and shatter it. But it was Ghost’s, so I couldn’t; I couldn’t regardless, because it was a piece of him that remained with me, even when he left.

That, and the smell of smoke.

“Nah, I’m good.” I replied, facing the cold, empty base ahead of me.

“Good.” She said, pinching the cigarette and blowing a stream of smoke. “Stay that way. Did you know these bastards give you cancer?”

I chuckled into the collar of my jacket. “Do they, now?”

She hummed affirmatively, sucking another breath in through the cancerous bastard. “Who would’ve thought…”

We fell back into silence. I continued watching the stillness of the base, trying to see if the sky would follow through with its promise to fall. Now that my free time wasn’t spent holed up in my room, it somehow felt like there were fewer ways to spend it. With another mission on the horizon – a simple recon, yet dauntingly close to a heavily-guarded compound – no one was out and about when they usually were. Finding Roze outside and seemingly not worried was usual, however, and a warm sight, compared to how the rest of the team was on edge. Even Askel seemed grumpier than most days.

I hadn’t been seeking out someone to spend time with, no… that I would never do (or admit). But talking to a familiar face provided a comfort I had grown to need over the past couple of months. And, frankly, I felt like Konig might be getting tired of how much I ran to him when I craved social interaction. Though he had never said anything about it, I felt like I needed to branch out to other team members than just my Colonel. One might think I was trying to kiss his ass (I knew the accusation had already crossed Juno’s mind, but the young soldier was good at holding his tongue – when Konig was around, at least).

“You ever think about how ‘little girl’ you would react to this?” Roze asked, and I turned to face her. She had her nose scrunched, and a tinge of pink dusted over her cold cheeks. “Guns, war, no playdates or days at the beach…”

I sighed. “Probably would have cried.” I replied, allowing my freezing nose to poke over the collar of my jacket. “Especially if I had known that being a princess now adays meant spending more time worrying about becoming a hostage than anything else.”

Roze chuckled. “It’s a good thing we didn’t know then.” Her face was mostly blank, but I thought I noticed a hint of bitterness in the way her gaze landed on the ground. I watched her flick her cigarette with a bit more aggression than usual. “I would’ve tried to convince my entire family to run away to Scotland, live in hiding and pretend the rest of the world was a dream.”

“Scotland?” I asked. Soap’s cocky grin and heavy Scottish accent stirred in my mind, but it felt like nothing more than a small cloud of dust.

“Yeah – heard it’s fucking gorgeous over there.” She waved her cigarette in no particular direction. “Now, I don’t know how peaceful it is in terms of politics and war, but it’s pretty spacious. Simple, too. I feel like if I talked about throwing all my shit away and becoming a fisherman for a living, I wouldn’t get people trying to talk me out of it like I would in the States.” She took another drag, and laughed out the smoke.

“Fisherman?”

“Yeah.” She chuckled, a hardened smile gracing her lips. “I don’t know why it sounds so appealing… it just does.”

I hummed and looked back out at the compound. I wondered about Roze’s past; she had never said or done anything to indicate that it was particularly rough, as it was for the majority of us (us – I still wasn’t used to including myself, but it was becoming more of a habit each time), but the weariness in her eyes when she spoke about her younger self made me question what that girl had been through. Maybe it was just nostalgia. A yen for simpler times. Roze seemed to appreciate the simple things in life.

“You know Askel goes ice fishing?” she said suddenly.

I smiled underneath my jacket. “Seems like something he would do.”

“Every winter.” She continued. She dropped her cigarette to the floor and crushed it into the gravel. “He takes about three weeks of leave, if we’re lucky enough to get it, and goes to Norway. Sits on a frozen lake for hours a day, just waiting for a fish.”

“You make it sound like he’s never caught one.” I point out, my eyes lingering on the cigarette.

She shrugged her shoulders. “So does he. Every time I ask him what he caught, he just laughs. Says he’s never expects to get a bite.”

I closed my eyes and hummed in response. It was easy to picture the scene – Askel, sitting on a thick layer of ice, nursing the hoppy beers that he and Konig loved so much and waiting for a fish to bite. I wondered if he even bothered to reel the line in when he did catch something. Or if he even went fishing at all. Maybe he just went out there to get a sense of peace, to pretend that war and death didn’t exist.

The motion of thick, heavy snowflakes falling from the sky caught my attention. They landed on the skin of my nose, resisting the warmth for a few moments, before they eventually melted into trickles of water. A sudden gust of wind blew a flurry of them towards us, making the both of us flinch.

Maybe fishing doesn’t sound too bad.

- - - -

The shooting range was mostly silent, save for the occasional conversation between me and Konig. The lights were low, easily illuminating the gunpowder and dust swirling in the air. Konig and I stared at the paper target as we analyzed my shots. A few hit dead center, although most of them were clustered around the lower left of the bullseye. My lips were pursed into a scowl as I glared at my sub-par aim – it wasn’t typically so awful, but of course it was while Konig had been watching.

“Eh, are you sure you didn’t lie on your paperwork about being a sniper?” Konig asked as he stood behind my left shoulder, taking the target from my hands and looking at it closely. “You weren’t even ten yards from it. This is very poor marksmanship.”

I scowled in embarrassment, taking my pistol to the counter and pulling out the mag. “Rough day.” I answered bluntly as I started packing more bullets into the small compartment. It wasn’t a lie – I had barely gotten any sleep the night before. I was in the middle of a rather interesting dream involving me and Ghost, until my alarm woke me up before anything of importance happened.

“Very bad…” he mumbled to himself. I clicked my tongue in annoyance.

“Y’know…” I grumbled, loading the mag back into the gun and shoving it in my holster, “I don’t like stereotyping, but the boot really does fit you.” I walked past him and out into the hallway, not waiting for him to follow.

“Hmm?” he made an indignant noise, momentarily stuck in his spot, before he came jogging after me. “What does that mean? What stereotype?”

I chuckled. “Haven’t you ever how Germans are extremely blunt?” I asked.

“Austrian.” He retorted. “Do I need to brand that onto my face for you?”

“Wouldn’t do me much good, with the mask ‘n all.” I replied.

He laughed – rather snorted, as usual – “Ah, you’re right. Maybe I am blunt – just as much as you are defensive.”

I stopped at the end of the hall, right in front of the exit. “Defe-“ I turned on my heel to scowl at him. “I am not defensive! Where did you get that idea?!”

He stopped behind me, his eyes widening. He gestured an open palm in my direction. “This.”

I huffed, turning back around to punch the door open. The snow from earlier that day had ceased, blanketing the base in a thin layer of white. The moon seemed that much brighter against the crystalized ground, and the yellow lights scattered across the compound made parts of the snow look like sandy dunes. My nose tingled from the nip of the chilly air, and I pulled my jacket tighter around my body as the door fell shut behind me and Konig.

“Well, what am I supposed to say when you call me defensive?”

“You could agree.”

“But I don’t.”

“Which proves my point.”

I huffed in frustration, despite the smirk curling on the edges of my lips. “So, either I have to agree with you, whether I really do or don’t, or you’ve corralled me into a paradox.”

I can practically hear the gears turning in his head. “A what?”

“A paradox, like a – y’know, never mind. It’s too difficult to explain.” I let him fall in step next to me, although he was the one who needed to slow down to match my pace. “We can just agree to disagree, how’s that?”

“Agreed.” He nodded, and I chuckled. “It won’t change the fact that I’m right, you know.” He added.

I bit my lip and tried to keep my smile from growing ridiculously larger. I looked up at him and patted his shoulder – he looked down at me, and the corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled back. A stray, reddish-brown curl poked through the side of his balaclava, and I found the miniscule detail warming my heart through the cold air. He felt real, and in this moment, too human for this kind of life.

“Why did you choose the military?” I asked, turning back to look at the ground as we walked.

He hummed. “Isn’t that every boy’s dream?”

“Well, yes – but most of the time, it never becomes more than that.” I responded.

He shoved his hands into his pockets, mimicking my own position. “I’m not really sure what made me push so much for it. I almost didn’t make it, for obvious reasons.”

I chuckled. “Size does matter, huh?”

He looked down at me with a deadpan gaze, one that I refused to meet. “It almost did, in a bad way. And I almost backed out before they could be the ones to turn me away. But, of course, they knew they would find some use for my size – so they took me in.”

“And what did they do with you?” I asked, looking back at him.

“A ‘human battering ram,’ as my superiors had so nicely called it.” He framed the description with his hands in the air, as if it had been written on a plaque. I laughed and looked back down at my feet.

“Seriously?” I asked. “So they just had you breaking down doors, and then what?”

Konig laughed with me. “Well, I still had a gun, so I was able to shoot, thank goodness. And I had a bit more gear so I wouldn’t break my bones against the doors – I still dislocated my shoulder a few times, however…” he rolled his left shoulder, as if there was still a lingering pain from how often he had thrown himself at doors. “It was actually during a period of recovery when I proved that I could still be a sniper. My shoulder was still healing, so I had to give up being a battering ram for a while. I was sat with Horangi on the side of the mountain to give him cover. Of course, he was ambushed – he had to fight the Arschgiege right when we were given the order to shoot, so I had to take position behind the gun.” I noticed that his chest was puffed out a bit from pride. “That really knocked their pants off.”

I chuckled, choosing to ignore the inaccuracy of his phrase. “Did it now?”

“It did.” He replied, then looked at the ground. “For a moment. I got a good earful for overstepping boundaries that day, but it’s what ultimately landed me here – so I’m grateful for it.”

I nodded and hummed. “What was Horangi picked for?”

Konig shrugged, his hands now back in his pockets. “He never said what he and Commander had spoken about in his office. But, even if he wasn’t chosen – I like to think we come as a package. If I go, he goes, if he doesn’t, I don’t.”

I felt my heart warm at his words. The memory of how Juno had described Konig couldn’t be farther from my mind. It almost felt like I was talking to someone I briefly crossed paths with in my youth – not a war criminal, not the bloody and stiff soldier who had stepped onto the heli after our first mission. I envied his ability to separate his work stress from the time he had in between missions.

“Why did you decide to join?” He asked, catching me off guard.

It was only fair that I opened up to him, since he was so willing to do the same. Always the one to go first, too. But I had to be careful. I didn’t want this to turn into a pity party, and I didn’t want to dig anything up that I had worked so hard to bury deep beneath my subconscious.

“I was… a weird kid. Like you.” I said, making Konig scoff and roll his eyes. “Looking back now, I hate my younger self. I was so sensitive to what people thought about me, and I just wanted to be independent and strong. I wanted to be a ‘different girl.’” I gritted out the words that left a sour taste in my mouth. “I think I just wanted attention at first – of course, when I heard how everyone said they hated how annoying teenage girls were, and how gullible and weak they were, it just – it made me change. I wanted to prove everyone wrong, it wasn’t just about being different anymore. So, as soon as I turned old enough, I enlisted. Didn’t get to Navy SEAL right away, of course… but I joined every program I was allowed in until I could submit my application.”

I sighed, then chuckled. “Thought my family would say they were proud, that I was successful, that I was doing a good job… they were just angry. Said I was throwing my life away for business that didn’t involve our country.” I opened my mouth to say more, but I ended up scoffing and closing it once again. I felt like I had shared enough.

I looked at Konig, expecting him to acknowledge what I said. “That’s how the story goes…” he would say. But, when I met his gaze, I only saw concern. His brow was creased with what I imagined was pity, and my stomach churned. It was the exact opposite of the reaction I had hoped for. I only wanted to share stories with him, and now it was… this.

“I think you made the right choices.” He said, and I looked away.

“You don’t need to make me feel better, Konig. I appreciate it, but-“

“I’m not just trying to make you feel better.” He said, his accent slightly thicker from his exasperation. “You’re good at what you do. Your parents are just probably worried for you, and they don’t know how to show it.”

I bit down on my tongue, my eyes settling on the building in front of us with a hard expression. If only.

“Maybe that’s it.” I muttered, hoping he would drop the subject. He seemed to understand, and turned to look ahead with a disappointed sigh. My heart sank the tiniest bit at the sound, and I internally scolded myself. Still a people-pleaser, apparently.

We continued walking in silence, the buzz of the lights above us mimicking the static of a communication system that had been severed in a time where it was needed most. The edge of the barracks appeared into our view, just around the corner of the arsenal sheds that stood between us and our destination. I continued to stare at the ground, pretending to watch my steps and try to not slip on the snowy asphalt. My heart twisted with each second of silence that sat thickly between us. It wasn’t technically a fight, but somehow, it felt worse. It felt like the first time I had pissed him off, the first time we had spoken to each other – and god, did I already hate myself for the way I had acted towards him during those first few weeks. I didn’t want to drive another wedge between us, not after the ones that had already been worked back out.

I exhaled heavily through my nose. “Sorry.” I mumbled quietly, but loud enough that I knew it reached his ears. “Sensitive topics.”

He flitted his eyes in my direction, but didn’t bother to move his head. He sighed, and I nearly jolted when I felt his wide hand on my upper back. It rubbed back and forth, and it took me an embarrassingly long time to realize that he was comforting me. Or, trying to, at least.

“I know.” He said, and his hand rested on my shoulder. “I’m sorry for pushing you.”

I didn’t know how to respond. I was stuck on the feeling of the roughness of his palm, which I could gleam through the fabric of my jacket. How his fingers squeezed gently and released twice. There was no hidden meaning, no forced contact or any kind of attempt to put context into the touch. It was… natural. Warm, comforting, and it spoke a thousand words that I wouldn’t have been able to stomach if he had said them. It broke past my self-hatred and walls of ‘don’t be weak’ that I would have used as my defense if he had tried to verbally convey any sort of consolation. It was the first time I didn’t feel awkward about being so close to him, let alone when he was touching me. I wondered if he did this on purpose, or if he had no idea what he was doing at all.

I let myself stand nearer to him, almost tucked under his arm. I looked up and smiled as genuinely as I could – not that it was hard for me, but because I wanted to make sure that he really knew how much I appreciated the gesture. Although, if he knew that this simple act of comfort would pierce through my outer shell, was it really necessary?

“Thank you, Konig.” I said.

He looked down at me and smiled. That damn smile. I wondered how much more refreshing it would be when he wasn’t wearing his mask. It was already too much for my soul to bear when it was just the crinkling in his eyes that I could see.

“Anytime, Bonnie.” He replied, patting my shoulder before tucking his hand back into his pocket. I grieved minimally at the loss of the touch, but I was happy for what it was. “And I mean it. Anytime you need to talk – or not talk, and do that empty staring that you do – just come find me.”

I quirked an eyebrow in his direction. “Anytime?” I asked amusedly.

“Mhm!” Konig replied, his eyes on the ground as he watched his steps. Then, the realization hit him, and his eyes went wide with panic. “Oh- well, eh- I guess, not anytime-“

“You gonna tell me when?” I joked, and he laughed. “You need an open/closed sign on your door.” I jogged ahead, trying to reach the door to the barracks before he did.

“How about this?” he called out, and I could hear the grin behind his mask. “I’ll nail a chalkboard to my door, and if I’m busy, I’ll draw a stick guy jerking off in his bed!”

My cheeks burned after I heard him. “No!” I shrieked, laughing nervously. “You’ll traumatize Juno!” I quickly tried to pin this on someone other than me.

“Juno, hah?” Konig teased, and I had half a mind to run into the building and leave him on the quad. “I don’t care about him. Kid needs to be traumatized.”

I laughed and threw my head back, turning the corner around the arsenal shed. “That’s not very-“

Immediately, my heart leapt into my throat, and I gasped. Konig nearly ran into my back as he skidded to a halt.

Sick, sick, what the fuck, I feel sick-

“Stimmt etwas nicht?” he asked, concerned. “What- oh, scheisse-“

We both stared at the bird on the ground. A crow from the looks of it, though it was hard to even decipher that it was a bird in the first place, due to the state it was in. Its belly had been cut open, entrails and bloody bits pulled from the abdomen and strewn to either side of the bird. Its wings were stretched to their full capacity and most likely beyond it, crushed and missing a large number of feathers. Both of the legs appeared to have been ripped off and tossed to the left of the crow. Its beak was the worst of it all: pried open, the jaw probably broken from how wide it was spread. A haunting look of terror in the crow’s red, glossy eyes made a violent shiver run up my spine.

I exhaled shakily, my eyes still glued to the horror. “Holy shit – what the-“

Konig quickly walked around me and knelt in front of the crow. I shifted to look over his shoulder, still fearfully curious, but he held a hand out behind him, urging me to stay in place. With his other hand, he pulled at one of the bird’s wings, stiff and heavy. Whether it was frozen from the cold, or this was the effects from rigor mortis, I couldn’t tell.

“How – did a fucking fox do that?!” I asked. Are there even foxes in this area? How the hell did one get on base?

“Nein.” Konig replied, still looking at the corpse. His gaze fell upon it with a sense of… familiarity, maybe? “Not a fox, no.”

“Then what? It – whatever it was didn’t even eat-“

“I’ll take care of this.” Was all Konig said. He stood up and marched past me – I was barely able to catch a glimpse of his furious expression. His eyes were hard and narrow, and as he walked away, I noticed that his shoulders were tense and his hands were balled into fists. I didn’t dare say anything to him; he almost looked the same way he did after our first mission together, except this time, his anger seemed to be directed at something, instead of just a post-mission adrenaline high.

“I’ll see you later.” He said over his shoulder. There was an obvious fury to his words, and although I knew it wasn’t intended towards me, it still made me freeze where I stood – almost as if I might anger him more simply by taking a step after him.

Whatever it is… I thought, watching him disappear into the compound, he’s sorting it out. I can take care of myself. Although, with such an abrupt and tense departure, I was at a loss on what to do next. I looked back at the bird; its terrified eyes locked onto the sky above it, frozen in its last wish to fly away from whatever horror it endured.

A shiver ran up my spine, prompting me to look away.

- - - -

Taglist: @igotmajordaddyissues @princekonig @vixionix @v3lv3tvampir3 @theoneandonlykymberlee @luvvnightingalee @dillybuggg @sun-joo @perfectus-in-morte @evilive @satakingslime @comfortless

Please let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist!

#konig x reader #konig x reader smut #konig cod #konig smut #call of duty #cod x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x reader smut #ghost cod #cod #konig #ghost #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader

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photogirl894 · 7 days

Note

CONGRATS ON 1300 FOLLOWERS!!!!🥳🎉🎊

Ahhhhhhh this is so exciting of a request!!! Ok ok ok so—

*drum roll*

Tech (no surprise there), fluff/romance prompt 17, and 22 physical affection!!!!

Again congratulations on all the followers!! That’s so wild!! You deserve them so much, my dear friend.💞

Aw Stitch, I adore you so very much!! 💜 Thank you for always being a sweetheart and a dear friend!

I hope you like this, my dear!!

"The Aquatic Festival"

17. "I am yours and you are mine."

22. Slow dancing

Pairing: Tech x fem reader

***

The time for the Aquatic Festival on Pabu had finally arrived.

It was a time where a vast amount of exotic fish crossed the ocean and hundreds of them came close to Pabu's shores, so the fishermen and women would go out on their boats and catch tons of fish to feed their families for weeks. To celebrate the fish migration and another successful year of fish harvesting, they had the Aquatic Festival, which consisted of many fun activities for all as well as many food booths where people cooked and prepared their catches in various delicious ways. It was a great way to spend time with family and friends and to just make merry with a wonderful community.

You were hoping a certain someone would ask you to accompany him to the festival. A certain Clone that had arrived on Pabu recently...one that wore goggles and was incredibly smart.

You hoped Tech would ask you to the festival.

He had helped rebuild your home after the devastating tsunami that had happened and you'd gotten to know him pretty well in that time. While he wasn't always the most attentive to social cues or he was a little more blunt in his perspective of things, you still liked that about him. His intelligence intrigued and inspired you quite a lot; you enjoyed listening to him ramble about different things. That and you found him handsome, which some of the other girls on the island didn't fully understand when looking at his other brothers in comparison. Their opinions didn't matter, though. Tech was the one that had caught your eye and that made him all the more attractive in your eyes.

There were times it seemed he was interested in you in return, but then you wondered if perhaps he was just being friendly. He spent time with you even after your home was rebuilt; he came and visited you when he could. That was a good sign, right? You weren't always sure, but he treated you kindly and with respect. That was what mattered.

The morning of the festival, you were just finishing up your morning tea when there was a knock at your door. When you opened it, you found Tech standing there with his hands behind his back, which brought a smile to your face.

After wishing you a good morning, he went on to say, "I do realize I may be too late in asking, since it is today, but...I wanted to..." He could barely look at you; you could tell he was nervous and it was quite endearing, but you waited patiently. "I would like to inquire of you...if you will accompany me to the Aquatic Festival today. I very much enjoy your company and thought it would make for a lovely time for us both if we attended together." Finally, he lifted his eyes to meet yours.

You smiled brightly at him. "I would love that more than anything, Tech," you said kindly.

His body relaxed at your acceptance and he grinned gladly.

"Give me just a few minutes, I'll go get properly dressed," you had told him. You were in your comfortable wear, but you had a special dress you'd picked out for the festival.

Once you were dressed in your flowy, pink and white dress, you emerged from the house and Tech's eyes widened at the sight of you. "You look quite radiant," he complimented you, "but by my calculations, something seems to be missing." Then from behind his back, he pulled out a white blossom from the weeping maya tree that grew at the very top of the island. "I think this would complete your look," he said with a grin. After that, he stepped closer to you and placed the white blossom behind your ear and you felt a blush rise up in your cheeks at his incredibly sweet gesture, not even resisting at all.

The two of you had a grand time at the festival. You spent a lot of the time around his brothers, which you didn't mind. You participated in a lot of the activities, tried many different kinds of fish that had been prepared and Tech even won you a stuffed moon-yo at a shooting game, which he was particularly skilled at. The day went on and you were glad to see Tech beginning to feel more comfortable here on Pabu. Sometimes you'd catch him looking and smiling your way and it made you smile shyly back. He made your heart flutter in ways no other man you'd met in life ever had. Even if nothing else happened after today, you would hold onto the memories of this day for the rest of time.

Soon, evening began to fall and the island was enveloped in the pink, purple and yellow hues of the sunset. Shep, the mayor, announced that the dancing would soon commence. Most of the Bad Batch chose to just watch the dancing, with the exception of Wrecker. He loved all the line dancing and just having fun and he even pulled Omega in for a dance, which made her laugh and smile. He even got you in for a fun swing dance and you had a fun time with him. Then a slower melody began to play and before you could question what was going to happen, Tech approached you and took your hand, wordlessly leading you back to the dance floor without taking his eyes off of you. He gently pulled you back to him, his other arm encircling your waist as you laid your hand on his arm, and the two of you began to sway in tandem in a slow dance.

"Was today to your liking, (Y/N)?" he asked you.

With a nod, you answered, "It really was. More than anything I could've hoped for." You smiled warmly at him. "Thank you, Tech."

He bowed his head, but then his expression softened slightly as his eyes darted down to the ground as if in thought. "Do you know the significance of the weeping maya tree's white blossoms?" he asked you.

Curious, you just shook your head.

"The tree's flowers are normally of a pink variant and the white ones are exceptionally rare...which is what I think about you," he told you. When you blinked in surprise, he went on, "You are an exceptionally rare woman in my eyes and I find myself fortunate to have met you...which is also what the flower symbolizes: good luck and fortune. That is why I gifted it you."

"Tech...that is the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me," you told him, lifting your hand from his arm up to his cheek. Overcome by your feelings for him, you reacted instinctively, tilted your head up and kissed him. Though, the minute you did, you realized what you had done and immediately pulled back, embarrassed.

Though, in reply, he grinned and said, "That was exactly the response I predicted." Then he took your free hand and brought it to his lips, tenderly kissing your knuckles. "(Y/N), I am yours...and, if I have read the signs correctly...you are mine. May I call you as such?"

With joyful tears forming in your eyes, you answered him, nodding your head, "Of course, you may. I've always been yours. I'm just happy I can call you mine now, too."

The two of you stopped dancing and stood in place as Tech pulled you closer and kissed you in the middle of the dance floor, both of you ignoring the glad laughter and cheers of his brothers from the sidelines.

This year's Aquatic Festival had definitely been the best one yet.

Photogirl894's Fluff/Romance prompts

Photogirl894's Physical Affection prompts

Photogirl894's 1,300 Followers celebration fics

#star wars the bad batch #the bad batch #bad batch tech #bad batch prompts #tech x reader #photogirl894 1300 followers

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cannellee · 6 months

Note

Speaking of yandere omegaverse, may I make a request for yandere alpha!baji? Istg I absolutely need that man, literally making me feral and FOR WHAT?

TOKYO REVENGERS YANDERE OMEGAVERSE ★

୨୧ yandere!alpha! Baji x omega! Reader

— yandere omegaverse headcanons

you're absolutely right anon & i live for soft baji, even as a yandere he is a softie in my eyes>:(

my masterlist : ☆

YANDERE!ALPHA!BAJI

alpha baji is a complete menace to anyone foreign to the both of you.

he doesn't let you out of his sight and he'd like it best if you could stay still somewhere he can watch over you.

anyone who is allowed to go near you has passed baji's approval, if not, expect a few limbs torn apart. they just had to listen.

he doesn't joke around when it comes to your protection, and you should act right if you don't want to meet one of his punishments.

considering his aggressiveness when he interacts with others, you would expect something similar for you. but he's actually a big sweetheart, although he won't actively show it. but you can be sure to never receive any physical punishment from him.

you're his beloved omega, fragile and kind, his role is to protect you obviously, he wouldn't go against his own instincts & inflict you pain. he would rather die.

not a big surprise but you can't go anywhere without his scent on you. his pheromones are so strong it drives off any curious alphas.

baji is patient but he needs his bite on your neck, it's an alpha thing. he can't consider you his if you're not even claimed by him in that way. that's why he's sinking his teeth into your skin the first day of your relationship. no wasted time with baji!

he knows you're the one so he doesn't need any more time to think and wonder if that's the right move. he knows it is.

baji didn't fall for you instantly unlike most yandere. he helped you out during a delicate situation and ended up walking you home at night for safety reasons. he got curious about you, your soft speech, sweet gestures along with your smell he would spray himself with if it was a perfume.

all of this beckoned him to follow you home when he came across you a few days after first meeting you. he remembered how a group of alphas cornered you into a dark alley and this new feeling ordered him to make sure you got home safe tonight as well.

he didn't lose time making a move and befriending you before courting you for real.

scented plushies, necklaces with a small piece of clothing that smells just like him inside a locket, things that remind him of you like flowers or sweet food like cupcakes and fruits... he's one to make you wear his sweaters that he wore all day later in the relationship, he desperately needs his scent on you.

baji was always so stoic and seemed so sure of himself you couldn't help but let this sensation of pure peace and safety take over you.

whereas, he saw you as something delicate who needed to be protected and looked after. he was so used to hang out with other alphas, fighting alongside them and giving harsh slaps as hellos. he couldn't comprehend how omegas were so weak compared to him. your eyes were so pure, an innocence in your scent told him you only ever acted kindly and in consideration of others. he was fascinated and enamored.

he also is really lucid with your feelings, he's not delusional and acting like you're so in tune with how he's feeling. he's aware that while he has a sense of purpose when you're by his side, it isn't reciprocated by you.

it's not that he doesn't care about your feelings, it's more like a "she needs more time". he loves you a lot, he really does, that's why he tries as much as possible to not come off as overbearing and overwhelming.

he'll scent you slowly and softly, making sure you associate his touch with something positive to teach you to long for his affection.

as I said he's patient, and smart, he won't rush things in fear of messing up everything. one wrong move, a slight negative change in his voice while he talks to you, a harsh gesture that could be misinterpreted, and all that trust he so carefully built up will collapse because of his behaviour.

he wouldn't let that happen, so of course he's always being extra cautious and adopts a very welcoming and reassuring approach.

you have no reason to feel threaten, that's why when he eventually starts locking you up inside his house : you don't really say a thing, you've grown too dependent on him.

you find yourself lucky to have an alpha such as baji, who would tear anybody's throat just for you but gently cradles you in his arms when he's in your nest.

he loves it when you asks for his permission to do anything you think he might disapprove. knowing your place saves him the trouble of lecturing you and ruining the mood.

he'll make you wear a collar if you seem too adamant about listening to him. on some occasions when he's particularly tired or irritated, he might scare you into obeying him, but just so you know he'll never actually be true to his threats.

when you're in heat, you can be 100% sure he'll be at your side. your heats trigger his rut so expect double trouble : while he has some self control around you and acts as carefully as he can, the fog in his brain when his mind is solely focused on breeding you can make him quite demanding.

your house will reek alpha pheromones for a few days, other people literally running away once they as much as catch a sniff from under your door. the smell is so strong it's impossible not to notice it if you pass in front of it.

he gets extra protective when you're in heat, so you'll never be leaving the nest and you'll obey to whatever he says, because he's your alpha and he knows better, especially when you're this vulnerable and incapable of taking care of yourself.

forces you to lay still under him while he pounds into you with full force. he covers you with musky pheromones and others displays of dominance that you need to accept. and you do, the heat making you way more docile than usual.

he's biting and licking your neck the whole time, leaving it completely swollen and red from all the marking at the end of his rut. he doesn't feel bad about it afterwards, it's only natural as your alpha that he marks what's his.

as sweet as he is, he's a very controlling alpha. everything you do needs his approval. there's this power imbalance between you where baji clearly has the upper hand, he's the one who decides and you're the one who follows.

you have a tracker on your phone (if he even lets you have a phone), he chained you the first weeks after locking you up not wanting to see you escape and sometimes remind you of his clear dominance by making you feel dumb & dehumanizing you. he wants you to understand that you need baji as much as he needs you. you're an omega and having an alpha such as baji by your side is an accomplishment in itself. that's how you're supposed to feel. and you will in a few months, because baji will make sure you become unable to function properly without him.

he'll feel so satisfied when you finally recognize him as your alpha. he wants to reward you for being so good to him!

the rare times you both go out, you're always surprised how everybody seems to cower away from the both of you. you know baji looks and is threatening, you know what he's capable of and what reputation he has, but still, it sometimes feels a bit weird. you're not dumb enough to not notice the subtle glares and literal warnings in his scent and behaviour. nobody wants to be in his way.

and when you've been good and baji thought it was a good idea to allow you a small walk outside, you both came across the 1st division.

chifuyu was there with no more than 10 guys, all alphas. while baji never really let you out scared you'll get hurt, he trusted chifuyu enough to let him meet you, though rarely. your alpha's friend greeted you warmly, keeping a distance with you knowing the possessive nature of baji and having already witnessed first hand his anger when a stranger touched his omega.

he knew baji valued him as a close friend, but you would always come first and chifuyu wasn't willing to compromise both his friendship and his life.

while baji and chifuyu were happily chatting, baji always kept you close by with a hand on you waist or holding yours. you didn't say a thing and just waited for him to finish talking like the obedient mate you knew he liked.

what you hadn't expected is for an overjoyed recruit to clumsily push you aside to have a chance to talk to baji. he looked like a weird fanatic and addressed himself to baji with bright wide eyes and pure adoration.

you didn't mean to fall down, it was a slight push and you would have landed right back on your feet if you hadn't walked into a puddle of water. slippery feet and surprise made you touch the ground in a second while baji didn't even have time to comprehend what happened.

the young alpha didn't even look back at you and acted like nothing happened, you weren't sure if he actually even saw you fall. either way, the issue was be the same.

chifuyu instantly stopped talking and sent worried looks to baji, and the other members knew better than to stay close while sensing what was about to unfold. they all knew baji, and one of the most important unspoken rule was to treat you with respect while keeping a good distance. not having been informed, this guy was dead meat, and you understood it as soon as baji helped you up.

your hands were wet and bruised, he picked you up quickly and very carefully. he ordered you to go sit on the bench a few meters away to wait for him while he 'has a word with him'.

cut short in his words, the young alpha was thrown to the ground and you turned your head to the other side not wanting to see anything else, the sound of punches being already too much for you.

he wasted no time in joining you, told you that you would go back to your house for now and could always go out another time. for now his instincts were urging him to carry you somewhere safe and far from potential danger.

you know that despite his words, you wouldn't see the light of the sun anytime soon. those type of scenarios make him more cautious than usual and he won't risk anything like that to happen again.

he'll bring you snacks, ice creams and other stuff from outside in hope of making you stop pouting. he can't let you go out, you should understand why he does that.

just let him take care of you the way any omega needs and would absolutely crave. baji only want one thing and it's to keep you safe and sound, there's nowhere where you're more protected than by his side.

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ronsenthal · 5 months

Text

Ron Speirs x Nurse Reader

Summary: During wartime some stories were created to scare and keep the soldiers on the line, but some other ones were slowly written to have a happy ending, just like fairy tales.

A/N: This was based on a prompt kindly sent to me by a lovely anon who wanted something with Ron x Nurse Reader and since then I was so OBSESSED with this idea so I had to try something. So dear anon if you are reding this I hope you like it, I had to change it a little bit because I'm truly awful with requests, hope you don't mind. Also this was slighthly based on the Rolling Stones song, because it so Ron coded and apparently I can't write anything not related to music? So here we go!

The first time you saw him was one week after D-Day, everybody was still scared and lost, many people went missing so naturally the first place the men went looking for their friends was the Aid Station. It was completely madness, you couldn’t take a pause to catch your breath even when your feet hurt, even when you couldn’t tell what time it was, when your stomach made loud noises, you pushed through pain, tears and tiredness.

During one of your shifts you were attending to a private who was hit in the head by shrapnel after a potato masher exploded close to him. He was bleeding heavily since he arrived so you had to change the bandage from time to time. The Aid Station was always a noisy place with some people screaming in agony, others nurses and doctors were giving orders trying to save someone else and a few lucky ones were just chatting to pass the time. But in that afternoon it went quiet as if some spell was cast and suddenly the world was frozen, you could see heads following the footsteps of this soldier who walked in.

He slowly walked in your direction, you couldn’t see his features until he was at the other side of the stretcher of the man you were aiding. At first he didn’t say a word as he was looking at the other soldier, as if studying the damage that was done by the germans. He took a deep breath and finally asked quietly, “Is he gonna make it?” and looked at you with those big dark green eyes to which you couldn’t lie, so you honestly said “I don’t know”, he only shook his head giving you one sad look before turning into his heels and heading out.

You were awfully quiet that evening trying to eat some bread while the other girls were chatting. You tried your best but your long-suffering patient didn’t make it and yet you could only think about those sad green eyes. Some weeks went by, people would come and go but your thoughts would often drift aways to this face you couldn’t even put a name to.

The second time you saw him was even less fortunate than the first one, this time he came in angrily shouting that he didn’t needed any help and assistance, but anyone would notice that he was limping and there was even blood on his uniform coming from his leg, his hands also were bleeding.

Poor Jane, your friend was the closest nurse available, you only watched from a distance as she was addressing his wounds. At first he was reluctant but then finally gave in and let the woman quickly put some bandages on it, she only asked a couple of questions, filled a piece of paper and gave it to the man. Just as he went in he was suddenly gone, as he was heading out he saw you and nodded with his head before putting back his cap.

Dinner was always gossip time and that night you made sure to sit near Jane to get some food but also try to get some information.

“So who was that guy who came in earlier making a scene?”

“Are you kidding Y/N? That is Lieutenant Speirs, he is the one everybody keeps talking about, he killed 15 german POW or something on D-Day” Linda said, swinging her spoon

dramatically.

“I heard it was more like 20 guys, he even offered some cigarettes before shooting them” the other nurse called Grace.

“And do you believe those stories?” you asked them not even daring to take your eyes off your food. This couldn’t be true right?

“I don’t know Y/N, I heard it from one of my guys the other day, he was telling his friend that they sergeant saw it” Grace told you two before changing the subject to talk about some soldier named Talbert that they both find so cute.

Lieutenant Speirs so that’s him, after that day you were always looking for his name in the morning reports at the Aid Station, you heart almost skipping a beat at the letter S but you never saw his name. You never forgot his name nor his eyes or his dark hair.

From time to time you would see him with a cigarette on his lips from one side to the other, he was always followed by strange looks and a couple of whispers, his bad reputation was growing as time passed by, some stories were clearly too absurd to be true, others were creepier to say the least.

Third time's the charm right? Bastogne was a real nightmare, you had to move to the front line due to the heavy losses of people who had basic medical training, the supplies were short and the was was getting brutal, specially due to that fucking cold. One night you were trying to get some warm soup in the foxhole you shared with Eugene, you both couldn’t feel your fingertips as if they seemed to be frozen so you decided to try and warm your hands while eating something.

“Y/L/N” came from a hard and harsh voice from behind, you were caught by surprise as you jumped from the scare “Y/L/N did I get your name right?”

“Yes sir!” you quickly said

“Pleased to meet you, I guess you know who I am. What are you and Roe doing here? It’s not safe enough you should stay aways from the line” he said as you both nodded quickly taking your belongings and starting to move, he kept watching you and offered his hand to pull you from the foxhole to which you said a shy “thank you”, his hands were strong and warm and you had to fight the urge to ask him how he could keep them so warm in the frozen temperature, but you didn’t said a word.

Holding a gun in his hand he slowly and carefully escorted you through the white snow. Eugene was following you two but suddenly John Toye called for his help with something else. Speirs even helped you to settle in the new foxhole, putting some twigs and sticks to reinforce the cover. He then wished you goodnight before disappearing again. The man walked like a shadow between the lines, you took your time to thank the guy from above that he was at your side in this war, you wouldn’t be able to sleep if you thought that he was the enemy.

Just a couple of days later the only thing the men would talk about was how the now Captain Speirs ran through the streets of Foy to link up with I Company after he released Foxhole Dike from his position and how bravely and fearlessly led Easy. The guys were so happy to have a good leader again, you were happier too because it meant now they were saffer.

The fourth time he was shot in his butt during one of your night shifts back at the Aid Station, he was soaking wet, pale and so tired that he didn’t have the energy to be stubborn. You asked what happened and Sergeant Lipton said he was hit while going across the river into the germans territory to get some information on the germans. You promptly gave him some medicine and started to take care of his wound as fast as you could.

It was strange but you kept your cool and gave your best to stay calm and do your job as if he was just another guy. Except he wasn’t, after the bullet was removed he let out a big sigh of relief and as the medicine was starting to kick in he slowly falled asleep in a feverish state.. You couldn’t help yourself and stare at the man you’ve been thinking about for so long, you stayed by his side trying to quietly read a book but your eyes would move away from it and watch how his eyelashes peacefully rested, how soft his facial expression was and how his now slightly wet hair was falling in his forehead.

You reached your hand to it with the excuse to feel his temperature, he was burning hot and as you were taking a wet piece of cloth to use it to cool him off a bit he opened those same green eyes you’ve been thinking about.

“Am I gonna make it?” he said with a weak voice and caught your hand in his

“Yes” you said, but this time you were 100% sure and when you realized you were smiling at him, he gave you a cute smile back before closing his eyes and falling asleep again. He was certainly a handsome man but on that night you could swear he looked like one of those princes from fairy tales your mom would tell you at bedtime. You couldn’t help but think how he could be soft and yet so stern, so scary but also so gentle and caring, you felt sympathy for the Devil after all.

The next day he was feeling so much better and tried to get away as quickly as possible but you preferred to stay cautious and ordered him to stay a bit longer, which he couldn’t refuse and finally gave in. After some minutes of awkward silence he started to small talk asking where you are from, if you had any siblings back home and even if you had a boyfriend. You tried your best to keep talking just to keep him with you a bit longer but your peace was interrupted when a couple of soldiers came by heavily wounded and you were required to take care of them.

When you finally came back he was gone, he only left a note apologizing for leaving without a proper goodbye but promised he would somehow make it up to you later.

Of course he did it as soon as you set foot at Berchtersgarden, there the mood was totally different, especially after the german army officially surrendered. He took you out to enjoy some coffee at this beautiful place with an incredible view of the mountains, even through you thought that the view of the captain in front of you was even better.

You were so happy with everything that you couldn’t help but smile from ear to ear and as you reached from his hand across the table, he didn't moved it and intertwined your fingers, then gave you a sincere and beautiful smile, you felt butterflies all over your stomach because you felt more than just sympathy for the Devil.

Taglist: @mads-weasley , @footprintsinthesxnd , @sweetxvanixlla , @xxluckystrike , @malarkgirlypop , @lostloveletters , @next-autopsy , @ewipandora

#ronald speirs #ron speirs #band of brothers fic #ronald speirs x reader #ronald speirs fanfic #band of brothers #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers fanfic #mw*#mf*

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josephquinnswhore · 6 months

Text

Good Girl

Pairing: Male Nurse Joel Miller x female patient reader.

Summary: the nurse in triage calls you a good girl.

Word Count: 2k

Content Warning: Joel Miller with curly hair and glasses, praise kink. Taking pills—painkillers and steroids. Implied age gap, older Joel—mid twenties reader. No outbreak.

Note: based off the sexy male nurse tonight at hospital that called me a good girl 😭 maybe it was innocent but I have a praise kink baby! Anyway, I’m high off painkillers and steroids and I’m super sick so this is probably a terrible fic. Anyway enjoy… or don’t!

You were worn from the endless beat down and busyness that work had drained you with. Your car keys in hand jingle in the silence of the night, glad you put on that ugly navy-blue hand knit old man’s sweater you’d brought from lowes. It was cold—perhaps a symptom of her sickness, or maybe it was just cold.

It was too quiet for your liking—never taking too kindly to hospitals, let alone at 10:00pm, in the complete darkness. It was silent, not one pair of footsteps, not a monitor beeping. It sets the anxiety on hold in your throat skyrocketing into nausea.

Your converse on the ugly off-white tile is comforting, at least you’re not completely alone in the eerie building. You look around the front desk, sighing in annoyance that to your surprise, there’s no one there. The box of masks and tissues occupy the space of the counter. And a sign; made by the staff.

The notice was printed on a foul-yellow in big bold writing.

“STAFF ON BREAK. GONE FOR 30 MINUTES. PLEASE SEE TRIAGE IF STAFF NOT AVAILABLE.”

Oh—okay, that’s fine. Everyone needs a break, especially healthcare workers in these dire times.

Walking back past the section of the building you’d come through initially, the permanently open sliding doors, you come to find again; no one at the triage.

But there’s no note, perhaps they’re just busy tonight. If so; why was it so silent? The ache in your ear dulled, but still caught the sound of someone shuffling in the background, through the window you could see an older lady, short with greying hair and rectangular glasses remaking a bed.

You decide to press the giant green button that says “call.” The woman notices the sound, turning the alarm off as she approaches the desk.

Her voice is irritable; like you’re interrupting the most important task of her damned life. “Can I help you?” She asks rudely.

A man in dark blue scrubs interrupts. “Are you here to see a doctor?” His voice is husky, tired sounding but still kind.

“Yes, please.” You plead tiredly, eyes dropping lazily and scoffing at how late it was, and how you’d have to be at work tomorrow.

Damn it all, right?

“Come in sweetheart.” He swipes his card on the door that’s attached to the pocket on his scrubs, unlocking the door with a beeping sound, he holds the door open for you.

“Thank you.” You wearily and slowly walk into the triage, the body aches infecting every limb of yours too to bottom.

“Just sit down here, and we’ll get some of your details. My name is Mr Miller, but you can call me Joel.” He grins cheekily.

You sit on the uncomfortable leather seat, a monitor right next to you, a second seat next to your own remains unoccupied as you arrived alone.

The details are boring, your name, birthdate, address and allergies are all rushed through quickly, although you did seem to notice how the man’s ears reddened at the sound of your name.

Great, now you’re sick and delusional.

He scoots his chair over to you, the wheels rolling along the slick floors, his legs guiding him to the monitor, he puts the cuff around your arm and checks your blood pressure.

He frowns at the result.

You refrain from looking until he’s back at his desk typing notes. That can’t be good.

“Alright, what brings you in tonight lovely?” The man’s attention was undivided. Those deep brown—chocolate eyes were watching you. It felt a little intimidating.

“I’ve had a cough for a few days, but I’m struggling to eat and drink due to how swollen my tonsils feel. There’s also an ache in my left ear.” You explain hoarsely, your voice seemed to have changed as a result of your withering condition, even had started losing your voice.

“Alright now, I’m going to check your temperature first, so I need you to slip this under your tongue, okay?” Enamoured by how soft this man’s voice was, you only nodded in compliance.

He puts a small disposable plastic cover over the thermometer and when it beeps he throws the cover in the bin and hums to himself. “Temperature is okay.”

“Just going to have a look in that ear and see if there’s anything unusual going on, just hold on tight.”

You remain patient, watching his every move, eyes veering back and forth as you watch him, noting how small the ear torch thingy looked in his hands, Christ, was that even normal?

“Ears look alright.” He states confidently. “Now I just want to check your mouth, open up wide for me.”

You comply, wordlessly, tongue hanging out of your mouth, he can’t seem to find his torch as he rummages through his things, deciding to use the torch off his phone.

A phone that seemed old school to be owned by a nurse. “Just try and relax that tongue for me.” His voice was soft, squinting as he tried to see the condition of your throat.

He jumps in thought, pulling the small pair of glasses from his top pocket, he looks so sweet with them on.

“Let’s try again, just try and relax your tongue, keep it down on the bottom of your mouth if you can.” He encouraged, “relax that tongue for me.”

He pulls away, turning the torch off on his phone.

“Sorry sweetheart I’m going to need to use the tongue compressor.” He chuckles, you let out a huff of a laugh, due to your hoarse and irritated voice.

“Sorry—I was trying to keep it still, it’s hard when you’re trying to consciously keep it from moving.”

The man walks to the other side of the room, he lets out a laugh. “It’s alright—we’ll get you sorted.”

You notice more things about him as he walks around, the half sleeve that covers his elbow. Black and grey mainly, but a cherry blossom flower in pink. Not entirely neat, the ink had faded, you could only presume it was a result of being tattooed many years ago. Perhaps before your time.

His arms were thick, muscly. The poor seams of his uniform sleeves were holding with all their might in the double stitch. His neck were thick, and even though you could only see a small portion of his chest, you notice the defined collarbones and black coarse chest hairs that come up to the base of his neck. His hair was slightly grown out, curly hair seemed free range. The grey hairs in his hair matched his patchy—but neatly shaven beard.

God he looked tired, his expression matching your own, he yawned underneath the mask he wore haphazardly. “Pardon me, it’s getting to that time of night.”

“I feel you,” you mumble, tiredness laced in every syllable.

He takes the paper wrapper off the wooden stick, holding it out as he sits back in his chair, across from you. “Just gonna hold your tongue down and get a look.” He firmly presses the stick into your mouth, holding your tongue down to prevent it blocking where he needs to see.

Your tongue seems to dispute the sudden constriction and wiggles which he laughs at.

“Good girl, thank you.” He praises, sparing a glance before wheeling back to his desk to throw the wooden stick in the bin, going back to his computer to type in his notes.

Good what now? Surely that’s not apart of a normal checkup, or procedure, right? Your whole body tingles and you feel yourself feeling warm, almost faint at his praise.

“Alright darlin, if you wanna sit in the waiting room and wait for the doctor you’ll be right in,” he gives a polite smile, you miss the way he looks you up and down. He holds the door open for you, slowly you’re able to lift your aching body off the seat that's noulded around you, offering him a small smile as you walk past him. “Thank you so much.”

You hobble to the stiff seats, taking a spot in the second row from the front—directly across from the front desk.. where typically the attendant had turned the light on and sat back down, she stares at you as she takes down her sign.

The tv was quiet, but it depicted a movie you were quite fond of; Kingsman: The Golden Circle.

Well—your love for Pedro Pascal made the movie more enjoyable.

He made a fine cowboy after all.

After a few minutes of watching the scene on the quiet tv, and snap chatting with your friends to let you know that you’d been praised by a sexy nurse, you’re called into the doctor's office. In which; the sexy nurse himself was there, assisting the doctor.

“I hear you’re not feeling too well, young lady.” The doctor was an older man, lean and tall, one white patch at the front of his otherwise untouched brown hair.

“I’m just going to check a few things out, we’ll get this all sorted for you so you can go home.” He said cheerfully.

The doctor, same as Mr Miller—Joel.. checked your mouth, tongue, ears and asked a few of the same questions. After assessing you; he finally had an answer.

“Sounds like a viral infection—we’ll get you some pain killers, steroids and a list of symptoms we’ll need you to come back for, if you experience them. I’ll be back in one moment!” The lanky doctor exclaimed.

The nurse—Joel, stayed. “Why don’t we get you seated, you don’t look well.” His large hand guides your mid-lower back, taking your hand to sit you onto the freshly made bed, the linen now tainted with your sickness.

“Thank you,” a whisper is all your aching throat can manage.

The moment is ruined by the doctor. “These are the steroids and pain relief. I forgot to ask—do you need a medical certificate?” He tilted his head, handing you the small white paper cup that had 4 pills, two large and two small. With a cup of water.

“Yes please, I’m scheduled to work tomorrow but I don’t feel fit enough to work.” You manage softly, although feeling a little embarrassed to complain about working in your condition.

Joel looked tired and stressed, yet here you were complaining. You begin swallowing the tablets, the two large first, unable to stop yourself from gagging as the pill gets lodged in your throat—the swelling of your tonsils makes it difficult to swallow.

But you manage, thank t to the encouragement of Joel. “It’s alright, easy now, don’t rush.” He croons, standing a little too close to you.

You take his advise, taking a few moments to swallow the pills and eventually you’re done. “There you go, easy now sweetheart,” he murmurs gently. Your body halts it’s shuffling to get off the bed, but the man takes your plastic and paper cup and put it in the bin for you. You’re stunned by how thoughtful and beautiful this older man was.

“Medical certificate and some pain killers to take home.” The doctor stated, interrupting your delusion, sitting them down on the work bench across from your position on the bed. “If you start to feel worse, fevers, vomiting, shortness of breath please come back.”

You stand, suppressing a groan as your stiff ankles hold the ache for your weight. “Thank you so much. Have a good evening.”

He bids his farewells, and you pick up your paperwork and medication, noting how once again, the nurse is holding the door open for you, the stronger man gives you a soft smile.

“Feel better sweetheart. Don’t hesitate to come back. Want you looked after, yeah?” It sounded like a coo, like he was pleading for your condition to improve.

“Thank you for all your help.” You muster, feeling better already thanks to the fast working medication.

“See you around.” His hand brushed against your lower back as you walk past. “Have something to eat when you get home, won’t you?”

Your cheeks felt inflamed, not from sickness, but bashfulness. “I’ll do that.” You promised, making your exit out of that stale smelling room. Your stomach grumbled, as if it also wished to comply to this man’s sweet demands.

The only thought of that handsome man on your mind, was she imagining things.. surely not?

Either way, your immune system was no good, it was almost a guarantee you’d be back sooner or later.. you just hoped, nurse Joel Miller would be on the clock to assist you back to health.

#pedro pascal #Joel miller #Joel miller hbo #Joel miller fic #Joel miller x you #Joel miller nurse x patient reader #Joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x fem reader #joel miller praise kink #old man joel miller #this is garbage sorry #I’m drugged up and sick #stay delulu #the last of us

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sadlyghost · 10 months

Note

May I request the moon knight system (or just Jake Lockley if you only plan to write for one person at a time) pretty much adopting a teen reader who’s the avatar of Seth (god if chaos)? Maybe the reader is very awkward and shy at first, but once you get to know them and they feel comfortable around you, the reader shows you their bubbly chaotic side? (Platonic ofc!!)

Summary: Just as you were losing hope, Jake Lockley agrees to adopt you, a young destructive teen who's unknowingly the avatar of Seth, the god of chaos.

Pairing: Jake Lockley x (platonic) Adopted Teen Reader

Words: 3.1k

Content Warnings: Insecurity, self deprication, rejection, crying, parental abandoment, panic, implied emotional abuse, minor wounds.

A/N: Jake is a good guy in this, it's wholesome :)

GIF CAPTION - "I'm sure we can figure somethin' out kid"

Ever since you were a child, you had been an absolute ball of chaos. You were the destructive, clumsy, hyper, uncoordinated kid. You were always breaking something, causing some sort of commotion or jumping around chaotically.

What you didn't know was that you were the unwilling Avatar of Seth, the Egyptian God of Chaos. Your parents had pledged their allegience to Seth in the past in exchange for power, but they soon realised that the deal they struck was not as ideal as they had hoped. After trying every possible option to back out of their deal, they took the cowards way out, leaving you alone, with the burden of eventually completing Seths demands.

Seth had been with you since you were very young. Every since you had been abandoned at the orphanage, Seth had followed and loomed over you almost constantly. He wasn't a patient God, and as much as he wanted your devotion, he needed to wait until you were old enough to complete his wishes. Your parents left their duties to you, he'd wait until you were capable of completing them.

As you grew older, you became more aware of yourself and others. You noticed that other kids your age didn't seem as destructive as you, they were careful and calculated and didn't seem to destroy everything they touched.

You became extremely insecure of yourself, as the difference between you and everyone else became highlighted more and more. You tried your best to tone back your often bubbly personality. You focussed more on your actions, carefully trying to do things as everyone else did, without any destruction. But as much as you attempted to tame the chaos, you always ended up clumsily breaking or ruining something.

You knew destruction was ingrained in you by the time you were a teenager. You didn't know it was because of a lurking Egypian God, but you knew for sure that it made you an undesirable candidate for adoption or any type of fostering.

You had been in and out of homes, most people feeling that you were too much of a burden because of your clumsy habits. No matter how much potential adoptees said they could handle any child with their needs, they always ended up giving up because of your unavoidable destruction.

You had given up hope of being adopted into a nice loving family in your mid teens. It was clear there was something wrong with you, you just didn't know what. You thought maybe you were cursed. Maybe some you had broken a mirror or something when you were a kid and now you had perpetual bad luck. Whatever the case was, you had accepted that you were unwanted.

Suprisingly, you were told someone was interested in adopting a kid around your age. It had been months since the last inquiry. You weren't expecting much.

You were taken to the potenial adoptee's house by a member of the orphanage. You were greeted kindly at the door

"Hey, you must be y/n, right?" he said, gesturing for you to enter.

You nodded smally, putting your hands in your pockets, tensely walking in, head down and watching carefully where to step in fear of ruining this persons home. You stood still in the middle of the room while he walked around casually.

"Well I'm Jake, I'm sure they already explained it to ya, but I've been considerin' adoption for quite some time. I'm happy to give you a home here if you'd like, course it'll be completely your decision if you'd like to stay, but you can have a look around if you'd like," he explains.

You just continue to stand still, slightly glancing around at the home. It was nice, seemed pretty warm and safe. A nice warm safe environment that you'd end up ruining - you were sure of it. You just sighed to yourself, closing up and making yourself smaller.

"Would you like me to show you around?" he offered considerately. You just shrugged.

"Alright, well over here is the kitchen area. All the basics of course," he said, you looked over as he gestured to the kitchen.

"I've got an impressive record collection over here. I love the classics." You looked to see a bunch of classic rock posters on the wall and a few stacks of records next to a record player. You smiled softly, recognising some of the artists.

"Through here is the livin' area," he said. You carefully and quietly stepped after him into a different room. "Couch, tv, cool blankets," he said, holding up a blanket with a cat pattern on it. "Custom made. Maybe we can get you a custom blanket if you decide to stay, huh? Sound like a good idea?" he inquired.

"Maybe..." you said softly. Though admittedly, it did sound genuinly nice. But if your adoptive history was anything to go by, this guy wouldn't last more than a few months looking after you, so there wouldn't be much point looking forward to it.

"This is my cat, Felisa." he picks up his cat, showing her to you. "She's friendly," he hints, letting you know its okay to pet the cat.

You lean forward a bit, looking at the cat in his arms, your eyes curious and intrigued. You had stayed away from animals for so many years, you didn't want to hurt them. This cat looked nice and fluffy, your hand twitching in your pocket as you felt the urge to pet it. But your insecurity held you back. You stepped away.

"She's fluffy," you commented quietly. He nodded, casually putting her back down onto the couch where Felisa streched out before settling down. He moved on, opening a door to another room

"Back here is the spare room. It's pretty empty cause I'm not sure what you like and that. But we can make it look however ya want, it'll be fully your space." He was right, it was basically just an empty room with a spare bed, bookshelf and desk. It was nice to think of the possibilities of what it could look like, but you couldn't imagine for long, the reality was that it wouldn't last.

You turned to step out of the room, quickly coming to a halt as your forehead ran into Jakes hand.

"Careful kid, don't want ya to get hurt," he said as you stepped back, rubbing your forehead and discretely covering your embarassed expression.

"Sorry," you mumbled. You had been going so well, but of course you clumsily almost walk into the doorframe like an idiot. You look at the ground in shame.

"All good. Just an accident," he said nonchalantly, not seeming to mind too much that you just stupidly walked into something in clear sight. At least he noticed though, otherwise that would of hurt quite a bit.

After he showed you around, you went back to the orphanage to speak about your thoughts. He seemed nice, you were just sure it wouldn't last. But maybe, maybe you'd give adoption one more chance.

The first few weeks living with Jake were the usual. You were awkward and quiet, shy and reserved. When you were younger, your bubbly personality would deter people, so you learned to just supress that part of your self the majority of the time. You couldn't risk Jake seeing you being yourself, not when he had just welcomed you into his home.

As for your clumsiness, uncoordination and overall destructive nature, Jake actually seemed to be handling it pretty well. Of course, you'd always try your best not to break anything, moving as carefully as you could, but it was inevitable. You ruined things. But it turned out that Jake had amazing reflexes, nothing like you'd ever seen before. It was like he had a sixth sense, and just before disaster struck he'd put out his hand, move something, or grab whatever was needed to avoid anything breaking.

You were absolutely shocked at the ability. The amount of things you'd dropped accidently or knocked over and he'd suddenly caught was impressive. So far, you hadn't broken anything, thanks to Jake's help.

Though you couldn't help but feel bad. Was your clumsiness putting him on edge? Did he always need to be aware around you just incase you stupidly almost broke his things?

Even though your insecurity was loud, you also noticed a sense of hope growing within you. If Jake was able to stop you breaking things, would there be a possibility that he'd let you stay with him? Like....forever?

A month went by and things had been good. You were just as clumsy, but there hadn't been any major disasters like there usually is when you stay with a different family.

That was until your fears came true and you inevitably ruined someone elses belongings. That being one of Jake's glass cups. It may seem trivial, but such a mistake had led other families to reject you in the past.

You simply wanted to get some water while Jake looked for a movie for you both to watch, when the glass slipped from your hand, smashing onto the ground into many pieces.

You paused, eyes widening in horror as you realised what you had just done. A wave of fear travelled through your body as you dropped onto your knees and began trying to collect all the broken pieces of glass before he could see. Your mentally cursed at yourself for your clumsiness. You should of known this would happen.

"You alright, kid?" you hear Jakes concerned voice as he comes into the kitchen.

"Yes! No problem here!" you call out, voice shaking as you continued to try clear the mess on the kitchen floor, not caring if the glass was hurting you.

"I just heard a smash, did somethin' happen?"

"No! Nothing at all!" you try convince him. But he walked in and saw you on the ground, rushing to hide your mistake. He was definitely more concerned at how distressed you seemed over this than the fact that his cup was broken. He tried to ease your worries.

"Just a cup? That's alright kid, accidents happen-"

"I'm sorry! I'm really sorry! I didn't mean to break it, it just slipped from my hand and- and-," tears began to well in your eyes as the acceptance that you'd be rejected again set in. You sunk lower to the floor.

"It's okay if you don't w-want me anymore, I understand! It's okay. I break e-everything I touch. I don't know why I'm like this! I'm going to ruin everything you have so it's better if I just leave now, before I destroy all your things," you sniffled through tears.

Jake knealed down, avoiding the broken glass on the floor between the two of you.

"Take a breath kid, you're alright. It's just a cup, nothin' that can't be easily replaced," he said softly. You did as he said, trying to calm yourself with a breath as you sniffled and wiped the tears from your eyes. Jake looked to you genuinely.

"Something like this isn't going to make me want you any less, truely, kid."

"But I broke it...." you whispered.

"It's all fine. Just an accident. I've broken plenty of things in this house," he relates to you. Everyone was clumsy now and then, but you were destructive on a whole different level. "How about we clean this up?" he proposes calmly, standing to grab a dustpan.

You just watched with wide eyes as he casually walked back and began sweeping up the glass on the floor. He hadn't yelled at you yet. Hadn't critised you for your mistake. Hadn't threatened to kick you out and hadn't said he didn't want you anymore. Instead he helped clean up the mess. You couldn't sense any judgement coming from him because of your mistake, that was new to you.

He finished cleaning up the glass as you stood silently, cautiously waiting for his next words and what they would mean for you.

He turned to you and smiled softly.

"All done," he stated before grabbing the small medical box he kept at the top of one of the cupboards. All done? How was he being so casual? Was he really just going to move on from this?

"You'll need a couple bandaids, glass must've scratched your hands a bit," he said, gesturing to your slightly bloody hands. You hadn't even noticed you'd hurt yourself, you were too focussed on hiding your mistake that it didn't even matter in the moment. It wasn't too bad, but Jake still wanted to make sure you were okay.

He carefully washed the blood from your hands under the tap, making sure there was no glass in your skin.

"I broke your cup...." you whispered in shame, not being able to move past your mistake.

"It's not a big deal, kid. It's all been cleaned up now," he says, still remaining so calm and non-judgemental. He began placing some bandaids on your hands.

"But I'll break other things as well.....it always happens....it's just how I am," you admit sadly. "It's why no one wants me....even though I try so hard not to be, I'm just destructive."

Jake looked at you, his face unhappy. His dissapointment in humanity was showing. He couldn't believe that people had made you feel unwanted for something as simple as a mistake.

"I'm not gonna throw you out for this, kid. I'd never do somethin' like that, I promise," he assures you. You nod hesitantly.

"And hey, if you're really worried about breaking stuff, why don't we change some things around the house so you don't have to stress all the time?" he suggested.

"Change stuff? Like what?" you ask nervously.

"How about some reusable plastic cups, plates and bowls? I'm fine with packing away some of the stuff around the house if you're scared of knocking it over. And we can replace anything delicate so that you don't need to worry about damaging it. We can bubble wrap or add padding to some of the edges and corners so that you won't get hurt. That would benefit both of us I think, I've run into this island bench way too often," he laughed softly.

You listened in suprise as he voiced his willingness to compromise instead of simply sending you away again. Instead of demonising your destruction and clumsiness, he was already thinking of solutions to make you feel more comfortable living with him.

"And if something does end up broken, we can deal with it. Humans make mistakes, things break, I won't make a big out of it, I promise."

".....promise....?" you ask unsurely. Should you trust his words after everything that had happened to you in the past?

His genuine smile assures you as he nods. Maybe he really was telling the truth and maybe he really would accept you for who you are.

All you could do now, was trust him and hope for the best.

After making some changes around Jake's house and some trial and error, you two had come up with various solutions to your clumsiness. Things seemed to be working and you were happier than ever. You felt as if staying here, with Jake, for a long time could be an actual possibility.

Of course, things were still chaotic sometimes, but there were measures in place to stop anything from breaking, so you didn't have to constantly be in high alert. It was nice to just be present, feel safe and be yourself. It was such an unfamilar feeling, but you welcomed it gladly.

Infact, you're chaotic tendancies had turned into an enjoyable time for you and an amusing time for Jake.

You and his cat, Felisia, had matched eachothers energy, and some times you both just chased eachother around the house, having care free fun. Not to mention the frequent meow offs you two had.

Each day, you felt more and more like yourself, like who you really were. You had lost yourself over the years, hiding your personality in fear of criticism, but being around Jake helped bring the best out of you.

You felt safe to speak your mind about anything and everything, and Jake happily and attentively listened, no matter how big or how small the thing was you were speaking of was. Seeing you authentically express your excitement had become one of Jake's favourite things.

You found yourself becoming more comfortable in your own body. You didn't feel like a hazard or a danger in the house because you didn't have much need to worry anymore, and it helped ease the constant tension you used to carry around with you. You were more relaxed, more expressive, more yourself.

Things had actually turned out perfectly. You had never expected to find belonging, and yet here you were, feeling the best you had ever felt with your new adoptive parent. You had a feeling that Jake was going to stick around for a very long time, and that's all you wanted, this was everything you had ever wanted.

You had been living together for a year now, and you couldn't wish for anything more.

You thanked Jake often, but you felt as if you had never really thanked him for everything he had done for you.

It was a sunny afternoon, you two had just arrived home after a happy picnic at the local park. You were sitting on the couches in the living room, the sun from the window illuminating you both. You gently pet a sleepy Felicia beside you, looking over to see Jake, his eyes closed, a content and relaxed smile on his face as he leaned back onto the couch.

Everything felt right.

You leaned back onto the couch as well, sighing softly as Felicia stretched and snuggled to your side. You took in the moment.

After a little while, Jake slowly stood up, heading over to the kitchen.

"I'm gonna get dinner going," he said softly. Your eyes followed him as he stretched his arms into the air, stretching after sitting down for a bit.

You leaped up without hesitation and wrapped your arms around him tightly. He stumbled back a step in shock, his arms hovering over you as he tried to get a look at your expression as you squished your face against his jacket.

"Woah kid, you alright?" he voices, worried you were upset. You nod against him and he pats your shoulders gently, feeling relieved that you were okay.

"Thank you....for everything......" you whisper. He smiles to himself, looking down at you.

"Of course kiddo," he pats your back affectionately.

"This is everything I ever could of hoped for," you admit. Jake nods in agreement, genuinly thinking the same about you.

"This is everything I could of hoped for too kid," he says softly, hugging you back securely.

~~~

A/N: Okay. So. Um. I guess it's been a while huh?......Um....yeah. Turns out life gets kind of busy when you're working and studying your first semester of University at the same time.

I hope I didn't change it too much and that it is enough like the request! I chose to just write for Jake, hope thats alright! I wasn't too confident on how to write his dialogue, but I imagined it as a sort of New York accent, feel free to read it however you'd like to though.

I've honestly got very little experience with the adoption system, so I tried to speak of it vaguely, but if theres any obvious issues, let me know and I'll be happy to change them to be more accurate.

Also I totally forgot I was supposed to be inlcuding Seth in the story. Maybe a part 2 where she comes of age and Seth starts giving her orders. Perhaps Jake can help her out since he's also enslaved to Khonshu???

Second semester of University is starting up soon, so I'll probably dissapear for a long time again. Hope I'll be back at some point though :)

I'm more active on my art Instagram, if you'd like to follow its @/sadly_a_ghost

Have a wonderful week :)

-Ghosty

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luminarai · 1 year

Text

I’m kind of horrified at the amount of people reblogging the sunscreen poll saying that they flat out refuse to wear sunscreen??? I completely understand that some people have sensory issues with it and I know that it’s a pain in the ass and I know it can be expensive but holy melanoma you guys, skin cancer is no joke. It’s one of the most common types of cancer and it can absolutely be deadly if not caught early. And it’s something we can actually take fairly easy preventative measures against.

So please, for you own sake and those who love you, wear sunscreen or cover up in the sun. It doesn’t matter if you don’t tend to burn or if you have dark skin - you can still develop skin cancer (in fact, darker skinned patients are more likely to only be diagnosed in the later stages of skin cancer because many doctors don’t know how to properly check and diagnose skin cancer in dark skin). Wear the stupid sunscreen. Or the sun hat or whatever, even on days that don’t feel particularly warm. Minimise your time in direct sun if you can and have no other options. Check out sunscreens in your country that don’t leave a gross feeling on your skin, they do make some good ones now. If you wear makeup, make it part of your daily routine - sunscreen, then makeup. Everybody messes up or forgets on occasion but any step towards protecting yourself is a good step. Take care of future you, they really do deserve it.

Okay, getting off my soapbox now. Kindly, someone who has had both friends and family affected by skin cancer.

#cecil blogs her life #cancer tw #cancer mention #my aunt is currently recovering from her latest bout of chemo bc the skin cancer spread to her throat (? not a doctor)#it’s looking good thankfully but chemo is NOT fun

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sgiandubh · 5 months

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Logo wars: the unicorn vs. the griffin

Ever since August, the battle between the Warchief and the Sassenach has been lurking somewhere, on the outskirts of my radar. While some still deny there is anything going wrong between S and McTavish, I have strong reservations it's all about sunshine, lollipops and roses in that department. And I couldn't help but wonder if the key to the problem was not to be found in the very disingenuous way Graham chose to build the marketing strategy of his products and to update his own personal brand, in the process.

So I took a deep dive into socials and this is something that is going to take some more time to complete. If this kind of content is not your jam or you disagree with my premises, it's totally fine with me, but maybe you should skip these posts. And since we have to start somewhere, let's start with their companies' logos: they have a lot of things to tell us.

Soon after the Remarkable Week-end, S finally unveiled a business project he'd been alluding to for quite a while (if anything is wrong in here, kindly correct me in comments). This was the logo and the slogan they are still using until today:

The Sassenach Unique Spirits. Spirit of Home.

As compared with what McTavish released this summer:

McTavish Spirits. A Scotsman's Dream of America.

First logo: clean, sober lines. A Unicorn, whose contours seem more aptly designed for a sports car or a new, innovative line of home equipment (think rather audio systems, not refrigerators). Or even an elegant, country life oriented clothing line, with all the paraphernalia (gloves, scarves, etc - but we already knew about the First Love tartan, then, so it's still a possibility).

Unique spirits, with all my deep affection and due respect for a real effort, is not the best they could have come up with. You see, that's hardly a sales argument or an efficient pitch. Just like any dog owner on this planet would tell you that Bebe or Fido or Snoopy are 'the best dogs ever', a new entrepreneur would confidently tell you his booze is 'unique'. The effort S put into patiently educating his passion for whisky and creating something personal out of it deserved better. Not the completely expected and almost meaningless 'unique' - this is very lazy copywriting, I think (not a copywriter, just an exacting client, here). It spells low budget where we needed something irresistible.

Onwards to the Unicorn. Of course, it's all about Scotland - it's whisky, for Christ's sake. But, it's also about this:

This is the sixth panel of one of the most moving, exquisite things that ever graced this planet: The Lady and the Unicorn cycle of Flemish tapestries, now making the pride and joy of the Cluny National Museum of the Middle Ages, in Paris. A place I know well and was a very frequent visitor of, when I was living just about three blocks away from it. Its story has to do with the Five Senses and this is the last panel, featuring a mysterious message on that lavish tent's roof:

A mon seul Désir. It's French for: "To my sole desire". Unique, indeed.

Let's let things flow a bit in free association mode (I know Puffy did it on her blog with the Barbour project, but she didn't invent it and she certainly has no copyright - so yeah, waiting for a couple more idiots to block right after posting this):

Unicorn... Scotland... legend... purity...even Mary Queen of Scots asked for a unicorn horn to make sure the water was not poisoned, while in prison... untamed...chivalry.... woman...only a woman can tame and lure a unicorn... Medieval...Cluny... desire... sole desire... soul desire (heh)...unique...passion.... statement... labor of love... personal testimony...first love and we wrap it up nicely with a smile ('she is the original Sassenach', ahem).

That was the first set of (genuine) talking points he went with. Now, we deal with a contorted & painful explanation: Scotland is an inclusive nation and land, I am the Sassenach, etc. What do our unsuspecting American friends know, after all? But to a #silly European, it makes no sense: yes, Scotland is a very inclusive, open and even avantgarde society for many things, but this is whisky and should spell tradition, not innovation. It should spell mystery and something that comes (at great costs) from a faraway, fabled land of mists and druids and lochs. Not from a blaring EDI crossroads, where people are gathered to protest against global warming. Then how about that unnecessary 'I am the Sassenach' - no, Sir, you aren't, plus I hope you know how we, shippers immediately interpret it ('blood of my blood and bone of my bone' - 😁).

But your main problem with the name and the brand that goes along with is not even this. The problem is that a unicorn is always female. You have a feminine brand for a masculine product.

So instead of a haphazard explanation which smells of improv, why not just take the second, abstract, meaning of unicorn and just say cheekily something along those loose lines, for example:

'Well, we are a new, innovative enterprise which aspires to be a smaller unicorn in the world of spirits. Maybe we'll never make it to 1 billion dollars, but it's the bravery and the innovative spirit that we bring with us from Scotland, our home (cue in waxing lyrical and fill in the blanks with all the tropes you can think of). So we're the new kid on the block, the outsider, the underdog set to conquer new lands and new opportunities, exactly like Jamie Fraser, the character I play in OL does (cue in credible retconning of your initial strategy: you need a new client base to generate sales volume & secure or even multiply returning sales and those people DGAF about OL).'

Granted, you'll totally throw under the bus the whole initial plan, but hey - it's an elegant way out of a conundrum.

Second logo, quite a different situation. It's busy, busy, busy with the kind of motifs that make one immediately think of an engraved Colt grip. Something like this, perhaps, only stylized:

Instead of the Unicorn, we have a double beast: a Lion and an Eagle. In Ancient Greece, this mythical combo was called a γρύψ (gryps), which later gave 'griffin' in English. It is a hybrid, but then so is bourbon. The Lion is a symbol for the European roots of the brand and the Eagle, well - easy, America, pointing West and meaning new perspectives, freedom, etc. But the brand is McTavish Spirits, in a very personal approach: this is my bourbon (isn't it ironic, for a white label project?) and this is my story and these are my (a Scotsman's) dreams of America. Transparent. Legible. I mean business - this is not a labor of love.

Free association again:

The Lion self... the Older, Wiser Guy... the Leader... the Statesman... Dougal MacKenzie...the (hello) Warchief...but this is America... so I am also the Lonely Gunman... I am exploring a New Frontier... bringing my past with me (all the classy, gentleman-like persona)... telling my personal story, too, in the process... from my Scottish roots to making it in Hollywood... so I am also The Storyteller (unlike that young nincompoop, who just goes zorbing and chases barmaids) ... so, maybe, just maybe if you listen to my stories, you will forget I put zero effort into trying samples and touring the whole land looking for perfect balance, and just went for the easy solution and a quick buck... buy my booze and I'll tell you more... I am reliable and tried and tested and still young enough and strong enough and determined enough (the Eagle) to have a new wife and new plans.

Plus: a masculine brand for a masculine product. I won't keep scores for a while, but pfff... point taken.

This is not only logo conception copycat and shameless, reactive competition, on very thin ice and on a (at this point in time, at least) very slim portion of the market. This is, mark me, war between two people who still have some gigs together.

We'll see next time who shows up at their parallel events and buys their booze and also how they choose to engage (or not) with these people. I think I begin to understand what McTavish's brand strategy is, but I need to have a second, closer look. More on this, tomorrow.

#BoozeWars

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zv5x · 2 years

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hi! 🥺 may i request yandere riddler in which his darling reciprocates his affections for the first time?

Stockholm Syndrome (Yandere!Riddler Romantic Scenero)

of course! hope you enjoy these! tw // hostage situations , use of the yandere trope , toxic relationships , delusional mindsets , stalking and obsessiveness , this one's a soft one though!

"Angel, I'm home." Edward called out as soon as he unlocked the front door, and you couldn't help but tug against your restraints. Not to escape, despite months of trying, but to try and gain and inch of his attention. You've been wanting to apologize all morning for snapping at him like you did, when all he wanted to do was help you eat the breakfast he so kindly made for you. The look of sadness in his eyes tore at your heart for the rest of the day, and you patiently awaited the moment where you could apologize to him as soon as you realized just what you had done to him.

Soon enough, the door to your room creaked open, revealing Edward with his work jacket no longer on his body. He must have hung it up already, which disappointed you slightly, as you were hoping to be able to ask him to wear it for the rest of the day.

Held in Edward's hand seemed to be a plastic bag with a yellow smilely face in the middle, and he placed it down on the table that he had positioned right next to your chair. "I missed you so much, you have no idea." He laughed slightly, and you couldn't help but tremble with excitement as he leaned in to kiss you. He was about to pull away, comment on your trembling body and ask you what's making you so terrified of him after so long, until you yourself leaned on right back, kissing him on the lips. He stood stunned, legs wobbling as he struggled to keep from falling down. You watched with love as a soft flush engulfed nearly his entire face, and how his eyes widened with shock.

He was so precious, truly. You didn't know as to why you were so ignorant to that fact before.

"I wanted to apologize, Eddie. I treated you horribly this morning. You're always so nice to me, and-" You wanted to finish, tell him more about how sorry you were, then tell him how much you loved him, but your tears stopped you. You just felt too horrible, and Edward was quick to straddle your lap from the chair and mumble words of comfort to you. With every new tear came another kissed away by his soft lips, his fingers twirling around strands of your hair before pushing them back down behind your ear. You smiled, sniffling at how kind he still was to you. Even when you didn't quite deserve it.

"I'm not mad at you baby, you know I could never stay mad at you, yeah?" He asked and tilted his head, and you only nodded. "That's right." He smiled at your response. "I know you do."

He continued to coddle you as you sobbed into his chest, thanking him under your breath for always being so kind and merciful, complements which his ego absorbed within seconds. This here, is all he wanted. It was the perfect thing to come home to after a stressful day of work. He may not have been showing it physically, but Edward is internally shaking. Trembling, screaming. You're letting him hold you, you're apologizing for being so cruel towards him, you're no longer crying and spitting at him when he tries to caress and kiss you. It was enough to make him want to cry out in pure ecstasy. Soon though, his ability to hold back would be put to the test, as your lips curled to tell him just one more thing.

"I love you, Eddie."

And with that, he was crying too. Repeating those words like he was a broken record and squeezing you until he felt like you were going to pop, Edward was completely lovestruck. This truly is all he wanted, nothing more nothing less. This was perfect, you were perfect. Everything was perfect now that you loved him. He's been waiting for longer than you realize, and this is just everything he imagined and more.

Now, Edward just had to plan out everything else. The intimate moments, the marriage, the family (if plausable), all of it. He was practically bouncing on your lap with excitement, sobbing at the fact you finally love him too.

Maybe, if Gotham was able to supply him with such an angel, then maybe the world isn't so dark after all. Or, perhaps it was the two of you against the world, and it ended as simply as that. Either way, he was yours. And finally, at the shaping of those three perfect words from your lips, you were his.

It was perfect. Just perfect. Perfect in every sense. He couldn't have been happier, and he'll be sure to tell you that in between every forkful of your favorite meal which he had bought for you prior to coming home. He couldn't wait to tell you it was your favorite, to see the joy in your eyes.

To see your face light up with even more love than it has been lighting up with before.

#paul dano riddler #paul dano #dano riddler x reader #paul dano x reader #paul dano x you #edward nashton x reader #edward nashton x you #edward nashton #riddler x you #the riddler x reader #riddler x reader #riddler #male yandere #yandere male #yandere #yandere x reader #x reader #the riddler

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thebadboyfanclub · 1 year

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I Would Be Honored (Aemond x Reader)

Hey guys, so I don’t know why but I felt like a Martel leading lady was very befitting for this role since they seem to always have a scandal around them, the person that speaks first is obviously Oberyn Martell the daddy also the song I would suggest for this is “Something there” from beauty and the beast soundtrack, of course please leave a comment about what you think I love to read your opinions about the plot. Hope you enjoy!

“When my sister Elia married Rhaegar Targaryen people swooned over their love and the new bond between Dorne and Westeros after so many years, sadly the small folk had seemed to forget about the first true fairytale of a Dornish princess and a dragon prince, (y/n) Martell, who was as kind-hearted and great spirited as my sister was what some whisper to be one of the reasons the dance of dragons happened, as a Velaryon and a Targaryen came to blows for her hand, my lovely ancestor wrote her own story that has certain similarities with Elia, it all started because of a flower crown”

(Y/n) was delighted when her father announced that she was to visit the capital, her thirst for new places was relishing every image and scenery that she passed by with her carriage, and her bedazzling pink dress was custom-made for her to wear when she arrived at the red keep with her mother and her younger brother, (y/n) absolutely favoured the colour pink oddly enough since Martells were known to dress in different shades of orange, red or gold.

She could barely hold still when the queen greeted her, (y/n) was not accustomed to the ways that the Targaryens went with things, and from her excitement, she hugged Queen Alicent tightly.

“I am so happy to be here, I want to see everything”

Rhaenyra stiffened her giggle at the shock that had morphed Alicents face, however, her warm demeanor and honest mannerism were frankly refreshing.

“I am prince Jacaerys Targaryen, I shall guide you to your rooms”

Rhaenyra eyed her son up and down with a mischievous look resting on her face, she knew her son like the back of her hand and it wasn’t like him to offer his assistance to the ladies of the court, just a few minutes ago he was complaining about why his presence is required.

(Y/n) who was completely clueless grabbed a handful of her dress to lift it slightly and skip over the steps to reach him, the trip was long so naturally, she needed a nice hot bath and a few hours to rest.

“Lead the way, my prince”

(Y/n) became the talk of the capital rather quickly, everyone wanted to know more about the princess, people started to whisper about her even more when Prince Jacaerys asked her to go for a walk in the garden with her.

What (y/n) failed to pick up on was that Jacaerys had subtly interrupted prince Aemond who had opened his mouth and taken a step so he could be the one to lead (y/n) to her chamber, in that moment as (y/n) grazed by the stoic prince he got a sniff of her scent, she smelled like cakes, a scent so sweet that could make anyone’s teeth hurt from the sugar.

Aemond was left stunned and just simply walked away from anyone, if Jacaerys wanted to escort her then that was fine, the boy needed the head start anyway, Aemond was a patient man and he was used to being the dark horse that passed everyone when they were a breath away from the finish line.

Jacaerys was completely infatuated by her, she took over the red keep like a storm, her laughter was heard around the walls, her play dates with her brother and silly games of hide and go seek behind great statues of expensive value were now used as obstacles for Allyrion to keep his sister away from catching him and winning the game.

Jacaerys saw honesty in her eyes, graciousness in her smile, and kindliness in her touch, he had left his mother speechless when he called the princess “the beloved (y/n)” when he was informing her of his plans for the day while they were breaking their fast, the princess had taken over his mind and heart and left him yearning more, his Valyrian lessons cut short and his sword pieces of training were now a thing of the past, he would match rather spend time in the gardens with (y/n) or taking her on dragon back with Vermax who seemed to take a liking to the princess after he sniffed her around for a little.

“I have never been in the capital before, it is certainly different from home”

“In a good way, I hope”

“It is a bit cooler here when it comes to temperature and the people here are a little bit stiff for my liking”

“I suppose Dorne is warm in its temperature and attitude then”

“Of course, my older brother says that we do everything with passion and fierceness, but you are also unique my prince”

“In what way?”

“A son born from Velaryon and Targaryen blood, the Fire and Water in you is something to be proud of”

“I suppose I never saw it that way”

He muttered with his head hanging low, Jacaerys had never considered his heritage as something to be proud of, mostly something to question, ever since he was a young boy his looks did not match the typical Targaryen nor Velaryon features, he could still recall the day he blatantly asked his mother about his father and he could vividly remember the script if the answer he got in return.

It was then that (y/n) decided to take it upon herself and link her arm with his, Jacaerys was caught off guard by the sudden touch and affection that came from the princess, however, when he gazed upon her bright smile and sparkling dark eyes his shoulder sunk and placed a hand over hers that rested on her bicep.

“Mayhaps I can help you see other things as well”

“I would like that”

(Y/n)s younger brother, Allyrion, loved to run around the castle while his sister chased after him, his melodic laughter was music to everyone’s ears as it seemed like the Dornish had come to shed some light on love and livelihood in the castle.

Aemond was busy enough to ignore that the sound was heading towards him at a dangerous speed, Ser Criston was explaining something to the prince while the two guests were carelessly playing in their world.

“Come here you little rascal I’m going to eat you”

(Y/n) threw empty threats between giggles as she paced after her brother who was shrieking, the boy was known to be clumsy, and (y/n) did not have time to warn him until he collided with prince Aemonds backside who was having a conversation with what seemed to be a knight.

Little Allyrion landed on his bottom with a grunt and (y/n) knelt by his side as she immediately wrapped her arms around him, the boy looked confused more than hurt, looking up at his older sister for reassurance.

“It is alright my love, we must be more careful now, do we? Would you like to apologize to prince Aemond?”

The boy scanned Aemonds face as his expression was becoming puzzled at the man. Aemond had seen the princess before, she was popular amongst them, and had noticed her from his window walking with his insufferable nephew, “what was she even doing with him? He is not handsome nor smart, he is not noble that is for sure” he had thought before he had stepped away from the window.

“I am sorry prince Aemond, why are you hiding your eye?”

(Y/n)s eyes grew wide at the curiosity of her brother, she had heard tales of the incident when she asked her servants, she had taken notice of it at the first dinner she had eaten with them, the servants warned her about exactly how sore that subject was for the prince.

However, her grip on her brother tightened and her one hand reached to pet his hair, she did not fear prince Aemond it was mostly the fact that she did not wish to make anyone uncomfortable whilst mentioning an incident of the past.

“Prince Aemond is a brave man that fought off the bad guys who wanted to kill his dragon, what does your sword teacher tell you when you play with swords?”

“That sometimes you get a wound but you must keep going”

“That’s what prince Aemond did”

The boy's expression changed from curious to amazement, as he lifted his head so he can properly view the stoic prince with the perfect posture and long silver-white hair Allyrions mouth formed an “O” from the excitement, (y/n) smiled brightly at the prince whose didn’t really let it show but was utterly shocked by her explanation.

“Perhaps prince Allyrion would like to come to one of my training, I am certain he is rather talented with a sword”

“Oh, can I (y/n)? Please, please, pleaaaaaase”

“If our mother agrees and I am available to escort you then maybe”

Little allyrion squealed from joy and jumped away from (y/n)s arms, probably running off to bug their mother until she gives in. (Y/n) was about to get off the floor when prince Aemond offered his hand to help her, (y/n) placed hers on top of his and Aemond felt the warm and delicate touch form a fire within him, he had to admit even if it was to himself that he somewhat admired the two of them, they were so close which is something he could not say when it came to his brother and that (y/n) was not pretending to be kind nor upholding a mask in front of her face, she had grown in a place that allowed her to create a personality of her own that she wore proudly.

“Thank you, I apologize for my brothers' peculiar questions, he is a curious little boy he did not mean any harm”

“It is alright, his honesty and bravery to ask me directly is refreshing I must admit”

Aemond was used to people talking in hushed tones and subtly pointing at him while wild rumors scattered amongst them, none of them had the guts to speak to the one-eyed prince.

Although he would never verbally admit to her that the most unusual part was (y/n)s explanation, she did not lie to him per se, she just merely wrapped the truth with a pretty bow and sprinkled stardust on it.

“I must go, I will see you at your next sword practice my prince”

“I can hardly wait”

(Y/n) held her end of the bargain and early on the morrow she came to the yard with Allyrion holding her hand, the boy was bouncing up and down, and as soon as he spotted prince Aemond he ran off to him, leaving (y/n) to catch up with the quick pace.

Aemond could barely keep his eyes off of her, how does a woman like her be with a boy like Jacaerys? The Martell princess with a rude bastard, she deserved to be a legitimate queen, not to be mocked behind her back for associating with a prince that had rumors of his parentage on his back.

Aemond was never interested in tourneys, he thought of them as a waste of time and energy, yet once he caught wind of Jacaerys performing at the next tourney that was held in honor of queen Alicents name day he felt like it was a must.

(Y/n) sat between her mother and little brother, she looked heavenly in her gown and fancy updo, Aemond found himself urging to feel her soft curls in his fingertips, to simply be able to run his fingers between her hair would be the day that he was truly happy.

Jacaerys was winning every opponent that was put against him, (y/n) would stand up and clap for the prince and blatantly show her excitement, soon enough it was time for the two that were left standing to go against each other, prince Aemond and Prince Jacaerys.

“Before we begin, I would like to call for the favor from the Princess of Dorne, (y/n) Martell would you be so kind as to grant my wish?”

(Y/n) bit her bottom lip before she reached for a flower crown and approached the stand, she leaned carefully so she could let it slide at Jacaerys, the sun shined on her skin giving her the essence of a fairy or an Angel, anyhow something magical that young toddlers would hear about from stories of their mothers.

“I wish you the best of fortune, my prince”

She replied before she left to sit back down next to her mother who was beaming with pride for her daughter, Jacaerys was an excellent match, the heir to the throne, (y/n) and Jacaerys could put an end to the feud between the two kingdoms.

“I ask for the favor of the woman of the hour, queen Alicent, my mother”

Aemond called for his mother, he planned to ask for (y/n)s favor, to be a bystander at the scene of her so eagerly giving her flower crown made his blood boil, Alicent who could not be more proud of her son let the flower crown glide down to her dear Aemond.

Truthfully she was a bit worried about him, Aemond was never good at keeping secrets so one time when she found him spying from his window down at the princess who was kneeling next to Heleana and young Allyrion he confessed his growing affection towards the Dornish girl, if Aemond were to do something to gain her attention it would not sit well with Jacaerys who had already asked his mother if he could be betrothed to her officially.

Jacaerys and Aemond took their rightful places and waited until the horn was heard, it all happened so fast, and after the loud clash (y/n) gasped at the sight of Jacaerys falling to the ground, once again she ran to the stand see if Jacaerys was injured, everyone clapped at the win of Prince Aemond who was trotting around with his horse, he had yet to take off his helmet and the explanation to that was how mad he was, (y/n) was concerned for Jacaerys and ignored his win, would she be so upset if he was the one laying on the ground?

Jacaerys got up to dust himself off and reassured her with a smile that he was unharmed, (y/n) smiled back and simply nodded back to him, she liked Jacaerys, he was a good man with a bright future, although she did not experience what her mother had described of what happened when she met her father, there was no spark, no compelling to be around him, no buzz in her brain, could it just be that this was just another kind of love? Or was it just not meant to be?

It was Aemonds time to crown the queen of love and beauty and everyone was expecting him to crown his mother since this tourney was held in her honor and he did ask for her favor, if not the queen then the second guess was his sister who had just given birth to her third child and Heleana was the one that was known to have a close bond with Aemond.

I believe everyone could imagine the eye-opening scenario when Aemond went past his family and commanded his horse to come to a halt in front of the Martells.

“Princess (y/n) Martell, I humbly ask you to accept the crown of the queen of love and beauty from me”

Silence fell and the eerie agony of everyone, (y/n) was being courted by prince Jacaerys, everyone was just waiting for the announcement of their betrothal, of course, the crown could go to anyone technically still all of them knew what it meant.

Jacaerys was furious, he wanted to push him off his horse and start yelling at his uncle, how dare he do such a thing? It was humiliating Jacaerys to the public, scoffing at his pressing attempts to court the princess and just ruin his plan of him being the one to crown her the queen of love and beauty, now he was nothing but a mere bystander who could do nothing other than endure this disrespect, not only had Aemond won now he was taking his shot at his dearest (y/n) who had frozen at her spot at the unexpected twist of events.

(Y/n) had every right to deny it, in respect of prince Jacaerys she could just firmly say that it should be passed to someone else, howbeit she did not want to, she was flattered that prince Aemond went to her,

(Y/n) started to notice her symptoms, was this the buzz that her mother told her all these years ago?, maybe the sweaty palms and sudden shake of her legs from nervousness was what (y/n)s father felt when her mother was around. (Y/n)s heart was thumping off her chest to the point that she was sure it would vomit out of her mouth any minute now. At last, she smiled at the prince compelling him to feel the relief wash off of him.

“I would be honored, my prince”

Requests are open!

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