#and tomorrow when i confirm I Can Do That For You i will accept payment at paypal.me/virtualbeetle ! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yostresswritinggirl · 3 years

Text

Tales of The Ghost Writer

“You met Xingqiu at Wanwen Bookhouse when delivering a batch of your newly-published book. But as a ghost writer, no one knew it was you that authored such books. Safe to say it was cute watching the noble bookworm fanboy about you in front of you.”

Pairings -> Xingqiu x Author!Reader

Word Count -> 3518

Theme -> Long Fic, Fluff

Series -> #Bonafide specials (100 followers event)

Warnings -> Xingqiu's name might be mispelled at times, also he rambles a lot

Entry Log # 645:

I’ve once again delivered the new batch of books to Wanwen Bookhouse today at 4PM, 30 new books in collection to be sold. That would add up to a total of 420 published books for Legend of the Lone Sword. Despite its old circulation, collectors and avid bookworms still seek out the volumes. In a spur of the moment thought, the 4th volume was finally rereleased for more readers to get a chance to read them. While on my rounds, I’ve met a particularly peculiar fan.

“4th volume?” You nod as you set down the stack of books on the counter where Jifang stood behind with a welcoming smile. “Thank you, everyone has been asking about it for a while now. I don’t understand how people keep missing out on the last volume like so.” There was an exchange of giggles between you continued your idle chatter, busying yourself with recounting the stack to make sure the order placed was exact. Yep, 30.

You picked one up from the top pile as Jifang enters the bookhouse to gather the payment. It wasn't that much of a feat to carry a pile of 30 books when it's only this thick, you thought as you opened the book in the middle and... buried your nose in it, literally. Archons, the scent of freshly printed books had always been such a stress reliever of a kind. The imprints were still fresh as you run your thumb over the pristine white page of page 75, the gravings of the letter bumping it in such an intricate and endearing manner. You suppose it should be prime time you get a copy of your own-

"Ah, the glorious scent fresh books offer are quite irresistible to everyone," your head whipped to the side in a hurry at the embarrassing display. Yet your new company only offered a light-hearted laugh, floaty and flowing swiftly past his lips. You find it enjoyable to listen to. "Fret not, I don't judge such honest guilty pleasure."

His smile was soft and respectful as you return it, watching his hand (wrists largely ruffled) pick up the next book on the pile, his interest shining the more he recognizes the the piece of literature. Such expensive clothing and poise, you thought as you continued to inspect. "I knew Wanwen had a schedule of new releases today, but I was not informed it would be the 4th volume of the Legend of the Lone Sword!"

"A fan?" You mused as you placed back the copy you took, leaning against the counter as you watched him quickly scan the lines of the book. He was intensely staring at every word with such a calculating gaze, that sometimes break when he reads how the character would sometimes reach an impasse, or when a new discovery reaches its peak. His ardent gaze was enough of an answer. When he took a break from reading to pass you his attention, you hadn't realize how red your cheeks had been out of embarrassment. "I've always wanted to get my hands on my own copy of the 4th, yet everytime all bookhouses in Liyue keep running out of stock. Is delivery normally this scarce?" He'd gestured at the not so looming pile.

You nod in response with a forgoing giggle. "Publishing could be running into some... shortness of funds?" Subtle, yet he hums in disappointment at the thought. His little pout, adorable, as he buries his face in the book again. I would gladly fund such glorious writing, you thought you heard past the leather back before the ornate doors past the counter finally opened again.

"Ah sorry it took so long, I couldn't find the exact pouch for the- hey! You again, you've read and been scolded dozens of times already," the woman angrily gestures to the notice board by the table, "Pay first, read later!"

You snorted, thankfully masked by the sudden cry of the caught culprit as he was smacked (hopefully gently) on the head by the owner, forcing him to put back the book to the pile. "Hnghh, but Lady Jifang! You didn't scold her, she was indulging herself with the book just the same," you breathed a fake gasp of astounded betrayal, before you three had laughed in chorus.

The oldest of your trio scoffed in amusement as she placed the bag of Mora unto your waiting hand. "What, her? Why would I scold her, she probably knows every word like the back of her ha-" her rambling was then cut off by a loud smack on her bottom, a book expertly finding its way back to your hand with a perfectly cut smile. Her yelp was not unnoticed by the male as he laughs at the display.

"Let him be, he's really been patiently waiting for the release!" Jifang scoffs at the word patiently as you came to the defense of blunette. You were never really aware of the norm in Wanwen, as you usually come by at a time where you would have been alone. This was a first.

"Quite so! Just the start of the volume had me hooked, setting for the peak of the story climax! The synopsis itself already hinted of another inclusion of a new element into the story I had not expected from this style of a book, surely such a writer would not tread such parallel territory without being an expert teller-" Jifang watched in amusement as her gaze lands on you at the start of the bookworm's rambling, watching the redness touch the tip of your ear with an abashed smile shyly gracing your lips. Behind it she can see the mirth and amusement, something she outwardly shows with her own expression.

"Wow," was the Liyuean woman's only response once the speaker has finished his lengthy speech. His dorkiness stands with pride at his examination.

You cleared your throat before you could mutter your initial words, finally realizing the time. "That was... quite marvelous of an analysis. A-Anywaysss, thank you for your partnership, I hope the books are all sold by tomorrow!"

And with that you swiftly made your exit, wanting to find a place to scream the embarrassment out. Or maybe squeal, just to be subtle.

Entry Log # 15:

As a distant relative to the Guhua clan, the (L/N) clan was not exactly known to be tied closely to the prestigious clan known for their expert martial. However, despite the impure connection, they carry with them still the honor of learning the arts to a meticulous detail.

Your family was one of the living practitioners of the Guhua Arts, twice removed, yet your spotlight was not that obvious as the name would carry. Your father wish to carry a new kind of prestige without relying on the powerful namesake and he had been adamant since birth to grind every teaching and form of the art into his immediate family.

"Misogyny nor feminism will not save you from battle, only your own strength." Something along those lines, was what he said.

Your eldest brother was his main point of reference when scolding you on not taking your lessons properly. A slacker he is, now he lacks not only a means of security but also financial stability, that's what you end up to if you don't treasure the arts of our family. You have no idea how martial arts brings you monetary security, but you can't really state to your own father that his logic was a bit skewed.

Daily during morning and the first touch of evening, you had resigned yourself into training under your father's supervision. As the eldest daughter of the house, you carry with you still a responsibility to be strong. No fraility was accepted, and your mother always argues about your father's ever so masculine lifestyle being imposed on you, a lady that should be taught other customs for means of living.

Yet after every session, at the end of the day under the caress of the lamp by your study table, your hands move with precision and calmness he would have scoffed at in the dojo. The beauty of words and their power to create new worlds effortlessly had drawn you in too easily, ever since you were young you had a knack for the books your mother reads to herself or to you.

Entry Log # 651:

The next time you'd met the Wanwen Bookworm (nickname you gave) was a rare moment when he'd finally looked at you more than the book in his hand. It seemed your little interaction from the bookhouse was attention-grabbing enough to make him seek out your person with a bunch of questions and wonder.

You gulped, patting down your blue skirt before accompanying him. The way he rambles was too dangerous, it was drawing something within you to also do the same, and you feared you may let out something you shouldn't. But a fellow 'reader' is good company, and with the little interactions you had with the same age group with the same interest makes this moment something you can't pass.

"Carrier to the Yae Publishing House?" You nodded calculatedly, after confirming you've said just the right information. "Quite intriguing, especially with such young age to be working in line with the greatest press house in Teyvat." Ohhh, he's surely smart despite the first impression of goofiness.

You giggled as politely as you can remember you should upon the scarce teachings of your mother. "I've always liked literature so I couldn't uhm let the opportunity pass, even if it's insignificant like that." Good, good, piling up the lies. You're grateful you haven't made some contract of friendship and happen upon the wrath of your nation's God. Or Qixing.

"Surely, you must have been in the presence of some of the wordsmiths during your rendezvous! So tell me," there was a dangerous glint in his eyes and you knew exactly what he's gonna ask, "Have you met the legendary Bob Ong?"

Oh goodness, you felt him caress and pat your back as you tried your best to breathe after the sudden choking on nothing, he was so spot on that you were horrified even if you had an inkling of what he was gonna inquire. "I uhm I don't really know what I'm allowed to say." In the inside you were goddamn screaming.

"You don't have to tell me anything about him, really! It's his mystery that makes his character just the most intriguing." You gulped down hard, this time without choking out of nothing. "I don't really know much about who he is since he's, you know, unknown? No clues whatsoever, he could be anywhere right now, maybe you've talked to him already or no. Yeah?"

He held a convincing hum before taking in the cryptic answer, content, for now you assume. "Not many avid readers of the book can place a name to the unnamed author, but how blind they were to see the cryptic signature at the back of the cover. Truly a wonderous act." Xingqiu, you finally learned his name, had took you out to lunch for the trouble and enjoyment. It wasn't really necessary, but you figured it was probably to keep you with him longer to converse about the books more.

A lot of his... analysis actually coincide with the messages that you lodged between the lines. He understands your way of narration more than you do at times, and you were left wondering just how much he had read of the fourth volume despite only having it for a few days then. When evening once again struck, you had bid each other farewell in the promise of another time to hang.

"It's a literature of love and freedom- disguised as a martial arts novel." Was his parting analysis, and you were left to wonder, was that really what you had projected into your works?

Entry Log # 32:

In your young and hopeful mind, you'd sent your first ever manuscript to Yae Publishing House. It wasn't your first work but it was the one you worked hard on the most, with weeks of furbishing and reworks. Your mother, although not directly informed of your whole plan, had provided you with great feedback and generous suggestions. And soon you created the first manuscript of 'String of Pearls'.

With a generous note and what you hoped is enough mora to at least publish a book, your package was sent to Inazuma.

You waited for days, of which turned to weeks, and then to months. You thought by the end of it all, you had been swindled but as young as you still hoped for the best of its outcome.

And then one day, as you were sweeping the outside of your gates in preparation for your father's return from some business in the harbor, a lone man of Inazuman style found its way to your humble abode. He calls himself Mr. Nine, and in his arms cradled two similar looking books, with a familiar envelope.

That was when you had been given the opportunity to write for the greatest Publishing House under the guise of a pseudonym. The great Nine was astounded by your ripeness paired with your prowess in writing. You hid behind Bob Ong, a protection from being belittled as a young child and a woman, to prevent being traced by your father if ever.

Yet you remained as subtle still. Even if your name was not written on the covers themselves, within your heart you were still the writers of those books. You've placed anagrams and mysterious puzzles revealing your name but it was part of the intrigue of the story that they had not thought much about it.

One day, you lost your book when you had gone out to eat. It was the second copy, as you carried the first one in your room, yet it still held a special place in your heart.

Xingqiu was a master novelist too, as you'd expect from someone so enthusiastic on the art of literature too. You'd long since become friends and found out soon enough his true identity. The heir to the Feiyun Commerce Guild, master practitioner of the Guhua Clan Arts, soon to be novelist. He was in every aspect the better half between you two.

One day in his daily reading breaks where he would happen upon you, he had found his eyes wafting over your notebook that you always carry. It was designed to look like a hard bound book specially tailored to your tastes, but it was nothing but mere keepers of your notes and musings.

Your newest page had in it a brand new draft for a brand new story you wanted to flesh out before the success of Legend of the Lone Sword diminishes. Mr. Nine still praised you for the success of your first major publishing and had assured you that there's no need to immediately compensate with another work so early, but your mind was already so eager to work. Your friend had never seen you so- flamed and passionate as the paper caves to the intense pressure your pencil places on it.

So he leans on your shoulder slightly (glad you were still distracted) as he quietly reads the words that articulates on the paper. The more Xingqiu reads, the more he craves, just the same vigor he felt everytime he had read his favorite works when each chapter invigorates him to continue to the end.

"Such a great outline," the blunette breathes out as he leans his cheek at the crown of your head. You let out a cute squeak when you'd finally come to, and turned your head to face him- "I didn't know you were into romance, my liege. Tell me, just where do you get such inspirations?" Your nose softly collided against the smoothness of his cheek, your lips ghosting over the line that is his jaw.

You scrambled backwards to direction opposite of his, yet with his body weight leaning on you, his center of balance quickly shifted on your weight like a net being pulled against the sides of a boat. You both toppled over.

"My, my, I didn't expect such abrupt resistance from you," Xingqiu's arms caged you as it holds him up against the grassland on either side of you. There was a certain mischievous glint in the ocean that is his eyes, which only meant one thing. "No need to be shy," you closed your eyes shut as his face leans in closer to yours, fanning over the frame of your face as he lets out a warm yet teasing exhale, "I'm sure we've gone past our personal bubbles in this relationship." You felt his chest against yours and braced for the inevitable-

as he finally licked your nose(?).

What.

"X-XINGQIUUUUU!" And then a cry of pain after a particularly harmful blow.

Entry Log # 659:

Xingqiu had always been a man of great words despite his chicken scratch of a penmanship. Vivid tales of his manuscript that I'm sure the Publishing House would take great value for, his years of memorizing numerous works in his arsenal. He told me that if I were to one day publish the manuscript, he wants to get the first copy and the first to get it signed. However Xingqiu has one glaring weakness when it comes to the art of words. When I asked him what would be a good title for the manuscript I made, he simply said, "Tales of the Writer!" And he sent a goofy smile. I thought he was joking, and I asked again, this time of what his work would be named. He replied:

"Why, Legend of Sword, of course!" He really sucks at titles.

Entry Log # 660:

Upon returning home with my new work ready to be shipped off for mass publishing, I've finally confronted my father. I had with me the final volume of my first work and offered it to him as first a gift of reconciliation, and my father took it with a mirthful glint in his eyes. He said he has been looking for the last volume of the series he'd been wanting to complete. I... I didn't know father was a fan.

The climax of my entire double-life ended so peacefully and tragically meh. I was expecting a martial arts fight of honor that will go down in history, but instead I ended up signing my own book as my father gushed about how nicely I illustrated the martial arts teaching we had during our sessions. I did not sleep well that night.

October 9th was a day celebrated by others more than the young master Xingqiu. The pavilion was mixed in with people from different walks of life and of faces he doesn't necessarily recognize. He lingers by the open window that shows the grandeur balcony, beckoning him outside. Today was a scheduled new release for Wanwen Bookhouse, and he had heard several chatters from the citizens that a new series would be published hailing from Yae Publishing House once again.

And the virtuoso of literature cannot attend such important matter himself because of his own birthday. How irking, you weren't even there to help appease his grumbling, you should have been here by now upon his invitation.

Suddenly the master of invitations bellowed out a familiar name, as his job to announce the entrance of the invited guests to the banquet. When he looks up, you were already walking down the grand staircase in your creme and blue Hanfu garb, accompanied by a tall man of a different wear—

"(Y/N), M-Mr. Nine-!" He bowed politely to the man as you curtsied at his presence. You looked absolutely dashing yet the man towered your form easily. "It's my honor to finally meet you, sire."

"Happy birthday, Xingqiu, I've heard many great things about you," the blunette opened his hands to receive the book gifted by the man. It had a familiar cover and title to it, Legend of Sword, "Great things, in fact, that there would too be great things to discuss later on." The Inazuman graced him a smile and he almost teared up at the implications, if not for when the author suddenly nudged you forward from your demure state.

Tales of the Ghost Writer

"X-Xingqiu, happy birthday! This is uhm, I've always wanted to- I wanted to give you this myself, I know you'd miss the first batch of releases," an unfamiliar book sits on his palm now. A plume and sword adorning its cover but no title, he shifts his hand to open it to the first page, "You said you wanted its first copy be signed, and I thought it appropriate to be given now at such a special occasion."

There in fresh print and ink he'd finally been revealed the mysteries he had long been searching for.

Against the translucent paper it was written and signed,

Tales of The Ghost Writer

Bob Ong, (Y/N)

@creation-magician @your-local-venti-simp @boxofteenageideas @indigodreamtime47

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact xingqiu #xingqui x reader #xingqiu x reader #Bonafide specials #exile.flower #accidentally posted again but okay #female reader

457 notes · View notes

boldlyanxious · 3 years

Text

Nothing Ventured

Jasonette July prompt 1: suit up

Trying to do Jasonette July and make it fit into my regularly scheduled meet cute Mondays.

Also trying to fit as much enemies to lovers as I can into the prompts

Most are stand alone, this one continues tomorrow and probably one more after

Kinda meet cute Monday

My masterlist

It had been just over a year since she started the business venture. It started off slow, but business had been really picking up. Gotham really was the place for it. She had a knack for locating heroes, vigilantes, or even villains but in a non-threatening way on either side. She simply mentioned her business and the advantages of her services. High quality of protective fabrics and designed with all the input they wanted to the design or functionality. She did what she could to encourage an eye for good fashion but she wasn’t that concerned. She needed to be in Gotham, off the radar and she needed the income.

Most of her clientele went for the more basic designs. Very little flash or design. Functional with a bit of protection. A few had returned for an upgrade after seeing how the fabric was resistant to knives. Unfortunately they had noticed because the basic design was only partially protected and the friend had gotten stabbed but it had missed anything vital that would cause severe injuries.

She was getting nervous though. Typically she would meet with one client at a time and never in the same place. It was always a neutral location. But this time there were four men who entered the small room. They had left their guns outside like she insisted but she could clearly see that they still had knives and she suspected at least one had a backup firearm. They pushed her away from her work table and backed her against the wall. One of them turned her to face the wall and did a pat down to confirm that she was unarmed.

She waited and caught her breath as she heard multiple bootsteps shuffle back out of the room. She turned slowly trying to calm herself. She always knew she was lucky to not be threatened by potential clients used to using force to take what they wanted. Waiting at the work table was a man she recognized only by the descriptions she had heard of him. The Red Hood. She assumed that it was his men who had secured the room to ensure it wasn’t a trap. He had recently taken over major parts of the crime in Gotham. He certainly could afford the best she could offer.

“Hello, I’m Cocorico. How did you hear about Suit Up?” she asked.

“I hear everything. It's my job, '' he replied.

“I guess that makes sense. Are you here for a new suit or will you be demanding protection money?"

“From what I heard, you don’t accept such demands.”

“I'm not a fan of being threatened. I try to get along with others. It’s good for business.”

“I would prefer if you would only work for my crew and refrain from providing for any Bat or Black Mask affiliate.”

“I’m sure they would say the same about you. Unfortunately, I have no interest in picking sides. I only care about the potential income. Would you like to place an order?”

“That was an order.”

“I don’t quite know how to put that on an order form. My usual timing for commissions is 4-6 weeks depending on what will need to be completed. But to reserve all my time for that period would be a considerable investment.”

“Do you know who I am?”

“I do, Sir. But that doesn’t change my needs. I would be happy to get your measurements and design preferences, but I have no method to filter out possible clientele based on your preferences.”

“So I just need to find a way to keep you busy with orders so you have no availability.”

“I suppose that is one way to look at it.”

“I could see myself finding other ways to keep you busy.” Marinette looked up at him and he winked at her.

“I hope you aren’t trying to order me around again. It won’t work any better this time.” she paused. “Actually, it would definitely be worse.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it. I don't need to order you to like me, I have charm. So, how do we do this?”

He gestured at her supplies, effectively changing the subject. She guided him through the process of selecting what he would like for his suit, explaining the benefits of each material and any related price change. She was right about him having no concern for the cost. He preferred to select the options with the best protection and she was able to take some liberties with the design and show him something that looked rather exceptional but would still not stand out over stealth.

"Okay. With this design it will take the full 2 months to finish. The cost is half now and half upon delivery."

"And how much if I want it in two weeks?"

"Double. If I already have the material or can get it rush delivered."

"Do it. As quickly as is possible."

"I will let you know when I can deliver."

"What about when you are available to see me again?"

"I will see you when I deliver it. My focus until then will be on my work."

"Then after delivery will be when I have the chance to get to know you."

"At that time our business will be concluded. I will need to get your measurements. It will be a better fit without your gear."

"Are you sure you aren't trying to get to know me better right now?"

He looked over his shoulder at her but she ignored him and focused on her work. Very quickly sure had all that she needed. She took his payment and gave him a receipt. He watched her as she gathered her things and prepared to leave.

He stopped her before she reached the door. She still wasn't looking at him so he lifted his hand under her chin and lifted her head until their eyes met.

"I look forward to seeing you soon."

"Is this that charm you were threatening me with?"

"I'll hold the charm back until I think you can handle it."

"Don't bother. I have enough. Had a whole bowl of Lucky Charms for breakfast. I wouldn't want you to strain yourself."

"Until next time then."

He dropped his hand and let her go. He watched her leave but she never turned back.

Taglist

@technicallyburninggarden | @iloontjeboontje | @certainmuffinbagelcalzone

#maribat #jasonette july 2021 #jasonette july #jasonette #meet cute monday #meet cute mondays #enemies to lovers #boldlyanxious

92 notes · View notes

pedropascalssimp · 3 years

Text

Hoth

Boba fett x bounty hunter reader

Summary: y/n is a skilled bounty hunter who works for jabba the hut. But even jabba knows that y/n has her limitations, so once jabba sends y/n on a particular hunt, he makes sure that boba is there to assist much to the man in beskar dismay....

Warnings: language. Slight Violence. Boba being grumpy and a bit of an asshole. And fluff.

|Got bored and made this|

The room was full of small chatter, men gathered to watch jabba's women dance, and the women that strayed in eyeing the bounty hunter who walked in with a struggling qaurry hungrily. It was no secret to everyone in the galaxy that boba fett's reputation didn't always revolve around the fact he was the most dangerous man in the galaxy, a skilled bounty hunter who put fear in everyone's core from just a glimpse of his beskar. But he also upheld the reputation of being quite the lady's man, every woman he came across seemed to be wooed by his voice, his word's, his aura. And the man was a tease, he was Arrogant, stubborn and a hard ass. At least that's how most viewed.

Walking to be stood in front of jabba's throne, boba kicks the man he had restrained in the back of his knees, making him fall with a whimper.

"jabba! I - I was going to pay you! I really was! But -

Boba cuts the man's words short by pressing his blaster pistol to the back of his head. "save you're lies for someone fool enough to believe them" his accent couldn't be masked through the modulater in his helmet as he spoke to the qaurry.

Jabba laughs joyfully at the sight of boba fett's triumph, catching the thief who was dumb enough to still from him. "well done fett! You must be rewarded for you're victory! Name a price or take you're pick" jabba motions towards the women chained to his side.

But boba simply shakes his head, "I'll take whatever credits you offer and another job" boba spoke while watching jabba chuckle.

"ah, ready for another hunt? I'll give you you're reward and another job... But that's for tomorrow, now you rest boba fett" the disgusting fat creature said just as you walked in. Two men cowering away as you had them in cuffs.

This draws boba's attention, for he doesn't remember quite seeing you before. Now standing beside boba and his qaurry, you shoved the two men by your side down onto the ground harshly. Boba only watches, intrigued by your heavily armed self and beauty.

"ah! Y/n! You're back earlier then expected!" jabba happily announced, you try hiding your disgust with the looks of the creature, the slob before you. Who had women chained to his side, you hated jabba, hated the way the women looked at you with begging eye's to free them, oh how you wished you could...

"it was an easy job, to easy in fact" you spoke his native tongue while resting a hand on your hip. Not even bothering to glance over at the man who's gaze burned into the side of your head.

"then how about I give you a job more challenging? Would that satisfy you?" jabba asks and you simply nod your head confirming you'd like that. "it's to big of a job for you to handle alone my beautiful little hunter... So I'll send boba fett here to aid you" you lift a brow at jabba then glance over at the man beside you, his t-shaped visor already looking right back at you.

Like hell you'd let this man help you on a hunt, you knew boba fett, heard the stories people told of him. How he was a flirt with the women, how he was a stubborn hardass. You didn't want to work with him.

"I work alone" you and boba both said at the same time, looking at one another you roll your eye's at him.

Jabba laughs, "you two are the best in you're profession, it's only smart to send my best two for the job at hand" he said while looking at you and boba.

"and what is the job at hand?" boba asks before you could, his voice rolled out of his helmet smoothly, like soft dark velvet. You find yourself wanting to listen to him speak more, but you quickly shake that thought away.

"I want han solo, he owes me money... His payment has been overdue for months now" jabba says and starts eating something you wouldn't even poke. You grimace at the sight and look away, boba snickering at your disgust quietly but you heard and glare at him.

"when I said give me a harder job jabba, I didn't mean impossible!" you point out the logical fact han solo was a tricky bastard and hard to catch.

"that's why I'm sending my best hunters for the job, with the two of you looking for him it's possible!" jabba spoke with a mouthful nearly making you vomit. "I'll be rewarding you both generously" you sigh and start considering taking the job, even if it does mean working with boba fett.

"we'll do it" boba tells him not even letting you speak for yourself, this makes your anger surface fast.

"what the hell do you mean we? What if I don't want to do the job?" you say speaking your own language while jabba chews away at whatever the hell it is he's eating.

Boba huffs before crossing his arms, you can't help but flicker your gaze down to admire his strong arms. "you'd be a fool not to take it girl, it's a good paying job" he said making you look back up at his helmet.

"it's a useless hunt... I mean, I don't doubt my strength for a second nor my skills of hunting but I'm no match against a wookie!" you argue with the man, "I honestly don't think you could even take the big fur ball in a fight!" you chuckle dryly. But he scoffs and simply shows you the braided wookie scalps hanging off his shoulders. You look at him surprised, not expecting that. Sure boba looked strong and skilled enough to handle his own well, but he was also shorter then most men you've met and never thought he'd be able to slay not one but two wookies. But you was wrong obviously.

"you were saying princess?" he smugly replied making you tense your jaw and bite your tongue. Speechless. "we'll take my ship and do the job and you won't have to deal with me again..." boba said making you nod, looking away from him and up at jabba.

"have you both settled on a agreement?" jabba asks, watching how you kept your eyes locked on his yellow ones.

"were taking the job... But don't expect me to work with anyone else again jabba, you know I work alone" you say in his language once more, voice dripping with venom as you glare at him. he only chuckles, looking at you wickedly.

"don't ever speak to me with such hostility, for I could always use someone with you're beauty in my collection, I have a spot saved for you..." he threatened you, putting at the empty caller and chain. You look at the spot and back at jabba with a stoic expression, hiding your disgust and fear.

"forgive me for my ignorance then jabba" you say more calmly and rush out of the room, boba bidding jabba bye before following you.

Once out of his palace your greeted with the burning heat of the twin sun's and the scorching sand, practically jogging away from the palace you head toward the town, in dire need of a drink. Hearing footsteps behind you, you simply scoff.

"why are you following me?" you snap, angry with jabba and this stupid hunt you had to prepare for. The cantina comes in sight making you nearly relax at the thought of drinking something, your mouth feeling dry.

"because I'd think you'd want to discuss the upcoming hunt" he said now walking beside you matching your pace.

"well I was hoping I could relax a little in the confines of this dump but obviously that's not gonna happen" you huff and walk through the door of the cantina with boba.

"let me buy you a drink and we'll discuss it here" he offers, and you could never refuse a free drink, so accept his offer reluctantly and slouch in a booth.

Slave I was a pretty neat ship you'd have to admit, you was seated in the co-pilot seat messing around with buttons. Fascinated by the different types of buttons in many colors, you peek over at the mandalorian man who was focused on flying the ship rather then your insistent poking around at the ships controls. Ever so curious you click a red button making a light flicker on, catching the attention of boba. You quickly placed your hands in your lap as if you didn't do anything and he eye's you suspiciously.

"stop playing with things... You act like a toddler" he muttered, watching you shake your head in denial.

"I didn't do anything!" you lie with a innocent smile, but he saw right through it.

"don't lie princess, I saw you out of the corner of my eye. Now keep you're hands to yourself" he scolds you while looking back over the stars that zoomed by.

You sigh deeply and Lean back in the seat, you was bored. Hyperspace not taking you to your destination fast enough in your opinion. Looking over at boba you decide to ask him so questions, what else was there to do?

"so boba... Do you ever take the helmet off?" you ask the question that's been brewing in your mind the moment you saw him. For the first few seconds he's silent before sighing.

"yes" he answered briefly, making you nod with a little grin.

"why don't you take it off now. It must be hot under there" you say, eager to see his face. You'd be lying if you didn't say you wasn't attracted to the mandalorian man before you, he was intriguing, your infatuation with him growing by the second as you traveled with him for only four hours. But damn was boba fett really slithering his way into your thoughts, plaguing your mind as you basically kept your gaze glued to his strong build. His strong arms and damn nice thighs -

"because I don't want to" he spoke snapping you out of your straying thoughts. You only nod and think of another question to toss at him.

"why not? I'm curious to see the man who was ignorant enough to take this job" you tease him with a grin, his helmet tilting in your direction slowly before he scoffs.

"because it's just killing you to see my face, I don't think you've earned that privilege yet though princess... But there's ways you can change my mind" he trailed off with a smug tone. You could hear the smirk in his voice making you shake your head with a chuckle.

"I'll survive without seeing it then" you said with a cheeky grin still. Although your mind began wondering to the ways you could change his mind....

"suit yourself then girl" he shrugs and leans back in his seat, relaxing some before the big hunt.

You smile at him with amusement, so far boba wasn't really that bad you thought. Sure he was smug and grumpy, but other then that he seemed like someone you could get along with.

Until you arrived at hoth, your destination where han and his wookie was supposedly at. This whole situation you found yourself in made you realize that boba fett was indeed, an asshole.

You sat in the ice cave shivering, teeth chattering together while you had your back pressed against the ice wall while hugging your knees to your chest. Small Fur blanket and jacket not nearly enough to keep you warm on this planet. Even the damn fire you made not enough to warm you.

But boba? He seemed fine, his warm under clothes and beskar enough to keep him warm as he laid on his fur blanket by the fire. Arms crossed behind his head as he laid on his back trying to rest some.

You look at him with doe eyes, "b - boba... I think it'd be b - best if we cuddled" you point out the obvious, for you was freezing to death and needed extra body heat.

"I don't cuddle princess" he states, brushing your chattering teeth and shaking off as he tries getting sleep.

You huff, a cloud caused by your breath wafting into the air as you scoot closer to the fire nearly on top of it. "if you wa-wake up and I'm dead... It's y-your fault" you stutter from the cold, nose and cheeks red as you sniffle. Maker this planet was hell.

"you act like you've never experienced I little temperature drop girl, toughen up" he grumbled while making himself comfortable. If you wasn't freezing you'd kick his ass....

"I'm used to planet's like tatooine dickhead" you muttered angrily, Glaring at the man. He only chuckles and shakes his head. That really got on your nerves.

But instead of shooting him or stabbing him in his damned thigh like you desired, your take your fur blanket that hardly covered your whole body, your legs uncovered sadly. You curl up into a shivering ball by the fire and try to sleep, hoping that while your sleeping you can forget the unkind coldness biting at your very being. Closing your eyes you try and lose yourself to sleep, but your shivering kept you awake. Body feeling numb from the cold.

Boba looks over at you with a little frown behind the helmet, hating to see you so cold.... He knew his beskar would be cold to the touch so he reluctantly stands up with a huff, stripping of his beskar leaving him in his underclothes. You peel your eyes open at the clatter of each piece hitting the icey ground, that's when you seen him take his helmet off, revealing a grumpy expression and dark brown eyes looking at you with annoyance. His dark hair short yet soft looking as he strides over with his blanket slung over his arm.

"you're going to die if you don't stay warm" he spoke, his voice even more intoxicating without the vocoder you always heard mask it. You feel your heart melt at the fact boba laid behind you, spooning you from behind as he wraps you up in his big arms, chin resting on your shoulder as he pulled you flush against his chest.

You sigh at his warmth, he felt warmer then the damn fire in front of you. Your shivering slowly subsides as you relish in his warmth, his touch. His and your fur blanket keeping the cold out as he held you.

"thank you..." you murmur, heart fluttering steadily in your chest as you never want to leave this man's arms again. It was comforting, a feeling of pure safety. And it was, he kept you safe from the cold.

"I can't have you die on me now, we still have a bounty to catch" he he whispers in your ear, warm breath fanning over your skin making you shiver for a whole different reason. His large hand finding yours as he held it, letting you cradle it against your chest.

"and here I thought you wanted me dead" you snort with amusement, referring to how you've basically annoyed him through this whole trip. He chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest.

"it would make this hunt far easier, but unfortunately it would also make it dull" he whispers, this time his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. Sending chills over your skin. He noticed and smirks, "besides you still haven't earned the privilege to see my face..." he lightly nibbles at your ear making you gasp at the abrupt action, heart pounding.

Damn boba sure knew how to warm a woman up, you was instantly feeling a warmth spread over your cheeks painting them red. "but I've seen you're face -

Your words was cut short as boba chuckles and takes his hand from yours making you nearly pout until he cups your cheek turning your head to look at him, dark eyes seemed darker as he leans down, lips ghosting over your lips now.

"yes... But now you gotta earn it" he pressed his lips to yours, your eyes shutting as you relish in the kiss.

Boba fett wasn't that bad after all. In fact, you hoped that you two would be going on more hunts together in the future.....

___________________________________________

A/n: and I oOp.

#pedro pascal #din djarin #the mandalorian #star wars #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal imagine #the mandalorian imagine #the mandalorian x reader #baby yoda #mando x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin imagine #din djarin x reader #boba fett x y/n #boba fett imagine #boba fett x reader #boba fett

169 notes · View notes

queen-scribbles · 3 years

Text

The Long-Burning Torch

For the @shepherds-of-haven Shepherds Summer event, the Ryn/Red muses latched onto 20′s Detective AU and would not let go. I’ve gone so deep down this rabbit hole there’s gonna be chapters, but the first piece works as a standalone. (title might change along the way, again bc chapters)

----

There were, in Xaeryn’s experience, two types of people who made use of her services. Both were driven by desperation, both tended to hit her doorstep late in the day. There were the belligerent ones, incensed they had to stoop to hiring her, a Mage, to solve their problem. From them she had to pull the pertinent facts of their case one begrudging sentences at a time. And there were the frantic ones, who had exhausted every other route and she was their last chance. Details poured so freely from them she had to pick through it to find what was actually relevant to the case.

The young man standing before her now, at the start of her day, appeared to fit neither of those groups. He’d knocked and entered without awaiting an invitation, seeming unperturbed by the eyebrow she arched at his arrival.

“May I help you?” Xaeryn asked, leaning forward to rest folded hands on her desk.

He shifted to fold his own hands over the head of a walking stick she’d wager he didn’t actually need and smiled dryly. “If your reputation is anything to go by, Miss Shrike, I certainly expect so.”

She gestured to the chairs in front of the desk. “Let’s find out, Mr...?”

“Riel Syndran,” he said, passing her a business card as he took the offered seat.

The card was hardly necessary, and Xaeryn set it on the desk with only a passing glance. “You run Whitestone Couriers, don’t you?”

There was the faintest twitch on the left side of his jaw. “The company is a guild venture.”

“And I wouldn’t be much of a snooper if I couldn’t figure out who truly ran a company as vital to the city of Haven as Whitestone Couriers, Mr. Syndran.”

He gave her a sharp smile. “Very good. I knew coming to you first was the right call, Miss Shrike.”

“Flattered as I am by your confidence” --and she was; she was typically the last resort, being first was something of a novelty-- “why don’t you tell me what or who you need found, and we can discover if said confidence is warranted.”

“I’m certain it is,” Syndran said, his gaze briefly dropping to the Shrike Investigations placard on the edge of her desk. “But you are correct. To business.”

And business, as he explained it, ran thus: Whitestone Couriers had been contracted to transport a collection of artefacts, originally from all parts of Blest, from their previous temporary home at the Conte-by-the-Sea museum to Haven’s Hall of History and Culture.

”How well-known was your being contracted?” Xaeryn interjected.

“It was something of a secret,” Syndran replied, flicking invisible dust off his sleeve. “Some of the pieces are quite valuable, so it was largely in hopes of avoiding theft.”

Hopes that had proven vain. They’d had an uneventful journey--blessed with good weather, even--made it through city customs upon arriving at Haven (checked everything after making it through and found nothing amiss), and proceeded to the museum. Upon unpacking the artefacts, however, it was discovered one was missing.

(Of course.)

The missing piece--an obsidian and bronze pendent thought to belong to a ruler in the Jalis desert pre-Autarchy--had limited monetary value, especially compared to some of the other items in the collection. (Those, of course, had been more closely watched.) Its worth was largely historical and religious.

“Enchantments?”

“None so far as we know.”

“I’ll look into it for you,” Xaeryn said with a nod. She loved mind-twisters like this. “I’ll need to talk to your people, as well as the museum staff, so it would be helpful if you let them know I’m coming. Otherwise my kind” --a twitch of her fingers set energy dancing above them briefly-- “aren’t usually given the time of day.”

“Of course. I shall do so.” Syndran stood and bowed. “I thank you for taking my case, Miss Shrike, and look forward to your success.”

“Two things, Mr. Syndran,” she spoke up as he turned toward the door. She waited until he paused and looked back to continue. “I will, of course, endeavor to find this relic on my own, but should I require an expert’s... knowledge of its history, say, is outside help acceptable?”

His nose wrinkled briefly. “If you must. But as few others as possible, and only those you trust to keep it in strictest confidence.”

“Understood.”

“And the second thing, Miss Shrike?”

She smiled. “One third estimated payment is due upfront.”

“Oh, obviously.” He returned the smile and pulled out his checkbook.

----

She made some good progress between that afternoon and the next day. Interviews with the caravan guards and those responsible for the artefact collection gave insight to their procedures--which were indeed top-notch; it was impressive someone had managed to find a weakness--and how long the pieces were out of their sight coming through city customs.

“Don’t see why that matters,” the pink-haired courier who’d been in charge of the caravan commented. “We checked them all when we got through; made sure everything was still there. Standard procedure.”

“When you say you checked, is this a thorough examination or just a glance to make sure it’s still there?” Xaeryn asked, glancing at the notepad balanced on her knee.

“There’s no fine-tooth comb involved,” came the somewhat tart and harried reply, “but we do look to confirm it’s there and undamaged so nothing undeserved can later be blamed on us. The company has a sterling reputation for a reason, Miss Shrike, and the guild would very much like to keep it that way.”

“Hence your boss coming to me instead of the police.” Xaeryn tapped her pen against her chin and skimmed over her notes. “I think I have everything I need, Miss Aerin. Thank you for your time.”

Aerin gave a sharp nod. “Of course. Anything to get this cleared up and the artefact found as quickly as possible.” She flicked a worried glance toward the notebook as Xaeryn slipped it in her handbag. “How much did you write down? A lot of our procedures are trade secrets; if someone should see...”

Xaeryn laughed and withdrew the notepad again, flipping it open to show the other woman the symbols that filled the pages. “Never fear, your secrets are safe with me. An added bonus of my own shorthand; no one else can read my notes.”

“Smart.” A brief hesitation. “No one? You’re sure?”

“Well, perhaps the friend who helped develop it initially, but I’ve tweaked it since then.” She flipped the pad closed and stowed it in her bag. “I think it would take a little work even for him. We worked it out to take faster notes in class, but taking faster notes also come in handy in my line of work.”

Aerin relaxed and nodded again. “I’m sure it does. Thank you for the reassurance, Miss Shrike.”

“Of course. Have a good day.”

“You as well.”

With the last of the days’ intended interviews behind her, Xaeryn headed back to her office. Now to review what she’d learned from all the sources together. She was confident she had plenty to give herself at least a couple leads worth pursuing, even if there wasn’t enough for a scry.

---

It took a day and a half of running herself off her feet for Xaeryn to burn through the leads she’d found without much to show for it. She’d been unable to track down the specific guard who checked that portion of the shipment, but his supervisor assured her such an important collection would have been treated with utmost care, seeming miffed at the insinuation otherwise. None of the drivers or other courier employees had noticed anything unusual once they passed through customs, no interruptions or suspicious folks in the streets.

Even scrying had fizzled out without so much as a vague semblance of where it might be.

Nothing, nothing, nothing.

Xaeryn dug her fingers into her short hair and glowered at the photographs of the pendent Mr. Syndran had given her. It was so small. So easily concealed. And so simple it would hardly draw attention unless you knew what it was.

She’d been forced to grudgingly admit her minimal progress to Mr. Syndran when he called for an update and it had her in a foul mood. This sort of baloney was not how she kept the lights on. It was time for a new tack.

If she couldn’t (yet) trace where the pendent vanished from, perhaps it would work better to learn more about it; figure where it might be going and get a solid enough knowledge of it she could successfully scry its location. Who would want it badly enough for the hassle of stealing from Whitestone Couriers to be worth their while? Looking into the pendent’s history and provenance seemed the next logical course. Just because Mr. Syndran had told her it was on loan to the collection from the “proper” owners did not mean said owners had told him everything, or indeed, that they’d told the truth. She needed an expert and knew just where to find one.

It had been long enough since her time at Solhadur Academy Xaeryn actually had to look up the telephone number before calling. As she listened to the line ringing, she wondered absently how much of a gentle scolding Headmaster Tevanti would give her for her first contact in more than a decade being to ask for something rather than merely catching up. She’d always been the type not to bother people unless she had to. That was, after all, what she preferred. And her self-reliance had carried her through quite a bit. But she was aware most people would differ from her on that point; Tevanti especially was fond of jawing, so he would surely have words for her long silence.

She let it go to ten rings before giving up. Revelation came with a glance at the clock; it was late enough there was likely no one around to answer. No matter. She could drive out tomorrow. The Academy was in Capra, that wasn’t terribly far. (Not for business, anyway.) Headmaster Tevanti wouldn’t mind one of his favorite students dropping in for an hour or so to discuss a relic from one of his favorite historical periods. She’d even engage in small talk, if he wanted.

Xaeryn smiled to herself and locked both the photographs and her notepad in one of the desk drawers. If that was her plan for tomorrow, she should turn in early, make sure she was well-rested. Time for a trip down memory lane.

---

The morning was uneventful, aside from the troublesome discovery she’d left her office unlocked all night. She was normally more attentive than that, even being on a higher floor. But nothing was disturbed or missing, so Xaeryn shrugged it off and got on with her day.

If she selected her wardrobe with a more critical eye than usual, well, she wanted to look professional. Headmaster Tevanti had been a wonderful mentor, and she wanted to show how far his encouragements about using her bright mind and sharp eye had carried her.

(She wondered, briefly, as she pulled on the royal blue skirt and its matching blouse, accented in deep golden-yellow, if she would see any other familiar faces. But she shook off the warmth of the thought; they’d all scattered to the winds after graduation. Getting to see Tevanti would be enough.)

Satisfied with her ensemble, and needing to fill some time before she left, Xaeryn sat at her desk with her notepad and transcribed everything she knew about the missing pendent(not much), along with questions to ask. She picked out the best of the photographs from Mr. Syndran, just in case, and sighed as she looked at the clock. She’d still be a tad early for it to be polite, especially just dropping in out of the blue, if she left now.

So I’ll drive at a leisurely pace, she argued to herself. Take my time. Allowing a buffer in case there’s trouble along the way is only wise. God in heaven, she wished she could figure why she had worse jitters about this than some dates she’d gone on. “Oh, this is ridiculous,” she muttered to the empty office.

She locked the remaining photographs back in her desk, slipped the chosen one and her notepad in her handbag. After a moment’s internal debate, she slipped one of her stiletto knives down in her boot as well. Solhadur was far from dangerous, but it was prudent to have some measure of protection when traveling alone. She grabbed a hat on her way out the door--which she made certain to lock this time--and had it securely on her head by the time she reached the car.

----

Despite her efforts to make it a leisurely drive out to Capra, and weather that was perfect for that goal, Xaeryn still found herself standing in the entrance hall of Solhadur Academy at an earlier hour than would usually be considered polite for impromptu business meetings. She debated walking the grounds for a while, revisiting some memories from her time here, but decided simply apologizing for her early arrival was the better course of action.

With a final steadying breath and running one hand down her blouse and skirt to chase away wrinkles, Xaeryn headed for the reception desk. She smiled at the young woman behind it. “Good morning.”

The receptionist blinked, seeming mildly taken aback by how far up she had to look to meet her visitor’s eyes. “Morning, miss. Office hours don’t start until ten-”

“Oh, I’m not a student here,” Xaeryn said with a laugh. “At least, not anymore. And I do apologize for the early appearance, the drive out went much faster than anticipated.”

A brow twitched at that. “And what is it that brings you to Solhadur, miss...?”

“I’m doing research on a selection of artefacts and haven’t been able to turn up much on one.” It was barely a lie; she had read a bit on the other exhibition pieces, even if the pendent was the only one she needed to go deeper. “It’s from a period I know is of particular interest to the headmaster, so I was hoping to speak to him for a while, see if he could help.”

The receptionist pursed her lips. “Former student, you say?”

Xaeryn nodded. “If he’s busy first thing, I don’t mind waiting.”

““No, actually, being early is smart,” the receptionist said with a light laugh. “His hours are more full at the later end of things. This would be the best opportunity if you want some of his time.” She glanced over Xaeryn once more, then nodded. “You can go up. Third door--”

“On the left. I remember,” Xaeryn finished. “Thank you.”

“You might actually beat him there,” the receptionist laughed. “He isn’t always punctual.”

“I remember that, too,” Xaeryn returned with a grin. “Like I said, I don’t mind waiting. It’ll be good to see him again, few more minutes won’t hurt.” She toyed with one of her earrings as she headed up the stairs, steps lingering and heavy with nostalgia.

It was almost exactly as she remembered. A few portraits replaced or rearranged, new photographs from after she left. New name placards outside the doors she passed. The headmaster’s office door was closed, and a light inquiring rap of her knuckles brought no response.

Looks like she was right, Xaeryn thought with a smile, leaning against the chair outside the office to wait. Her gaze drifted to the high ceiling, following the details of familiar carvings to the scenes painted on the ceiling itself. Slightly faded from what she remembered, but that was to be expected after a decade--

“Xaeryn?!” The voice, still familiar even after years apart, sounded like he’d seen a ghost.

Her heart lurched in her chest and she’d spun around before the impulse to do so had even fully registered, his name tumbling from her lips unprompted in return. “Red?!”

He crossed the remaining distance between them in just a few strides(God, he’d gotten taller, how was that even possible?), barely remembered to set the books he carried on the chair before wrapping her in a hug.

Xaeryn didn’t even flinch, and only just managed to keep her grip on her handbag as she hugged him back. He still smelled of old books and ink and sunshine and she smiled at the memories it stirred.

Liefred Antiqua, her seatmate in any classes they shared and best friend regardless of how many they didn’t for the entirely of her time at Solhadur. Friendly, charming, and just as fond of books as he was people. (The nights they’d spent pressed shoulder to shoulder reading in the library were still among her favorite memories.) Between his warm nature and classic good looks, he’d had half the student body swooning after him, and yet despite the sharp contrast to Xaeryn’s more reserved and self-reliant bent, they’d still spent most of their time together. Their friendship was the strongest of the few she’d formed at Solhadur, and Xaeryn valued it immensely.

(Too much to risk on anything like admitting when the sight of his smile sent something that was definitely not friendship fluttering in her chest. It was just a crush, it would go away.)

( And then it didn’t.)

They’d both had plans to travel after graduation, and she couldn’t count on all her fingers combined the number of times she’d almost suggested they do it together. But in this one thing, she never could quite summon the nerve. And before she knew it, her departure date had arrived and they were hugging farewell, and come with me wouldn’t unstick from her throat. After a few months’ silence stretched between them--both traveling and unsure where the other might be, obviously--she’d resigned herself to their paths never crossing again, much as the thought hurt.

And yet here he was.

All the memories flew through her mind in the few seconds their hug lasted, and had a lump starting in her throat by the time they parted.

“Wonderful as it is to see you,” Red began as he stepped back to reclaim his books and run a glance over her, “what are you doing here?”

Xaeryn cleared her throat as she returned the apprising glance with one of her own. He still looked practically the same. A few inches taller, shoulders a bit more broad, and an attempt had been made to tame his bright red hair. It had only achieved partial success, and combined with the warm glint in his green eyes, he still was the same Red she knew. (The same Red she’d been more than a little in love with, even if she’d never dared the risk of admitting it.)

“I’m doing research,” she said, reaching up to tug the back brim of her hat as she glanced at the office door. “Into some artefacts. I wanted to ask Headmaster Tevanti about one in particular that’s being difficult.”

Red grimaced and fumbled his books. “Did you not hear, Xaer?” His voice went soft on the nickname, despite them being alone. Voices did carry in these halls, as they very well knew. “Tevanti died.”

She blinked, shock and sorrow curling in her chest. “Wh- How? When?”

“Not long after you left, actually,” he said, raking his free hand through his hair and tousling it out of respectability. “You know he’d been having problems with his heart. It gave out a few months after you left.” His brow furrowed. “I’m surprised you weren’t told when you set an appointment.”

“I didn’t so much set an appointment as show up looking to talk,” Xaeryn admitted with a soft, wry snort. “And I did simply say the headmaster when speaking to the receptionist.” She cocked her head. “Who would that be, now?”

Red smiled sheepishly, half-bit his lower lip. “Me, actually.” He shifted the books to one arm and opened the office door. Slightly nonplussed by two such major revelations in a row, Xaeryn was silent as she followed him in.

“I thought you wanted to travel,” was the first thought to pop in her head and then out her mouth as she looked around the office. It was spacious, lined with jam-packed bookshelves(He must be in heaven), and in a state of... corralled disarray that was so very Red it made her smile despite the news about Tevanti.

“I did,” Red replied, setting the books on his desk. “And I got to, at least a bit.” He tucked a handful of papers inside an open tome occupying one of the chairs, flipped the book closed, and set it on a side table so he could offer her a seat. “I’d already left when he passed, so Professor Rumi and some others kept things going until I got back.” Rather than sit in the chair behind the desk, he shuffled a small stack of books onto the floor and sat in the one next to Xaeryn’s as he continued. “He’d... wanted me as his successor, Xaeryn.”

“That makes sense.” The words were out before she could weigh them, spurred by the disbelief in his hesitation. “You’re brilliant, charming, and have a history with the school.” Her face warmed in the wake of being so candid, and Xaeryn glanced over at the large painting of Tevanti that hung on the wall between two bookshelves. He knew what he was doing. “You’re a logical choice.”

Red laughed warmly. “High praise from the smartest student in our class.”

“But far from the most charming,” she countered with a wry smile.

The warmth of his gaze didn’t abate. “I’ve always appreciated your-”

“Bluntness?”

“Straight-forwardness,” Red substituted, and was smiling when she looked his way. “An ability to cut to the heart of the subject is an invaluable skill.”

Xaeryn gave a faint shake of her head. “As is your kindness. But speaking of the heart of the matter...”

“Ah, right. You came here for a reason.” He pushed his unbuttoned shirtsleeves up toward his elbows. “I can’t promise to know as much as Tevanti would have, but I’ll certainly do my best to help.”

“Actually...” She snapped open her handbag to pull out the photograph and her notepad. “You’ve done a lot of research on pre-Autarchy history, so you might be able to help more than you think.” She set the photograph on the desk and Red cocked his head to look at it.

“Solimer’s torch...” he murmured, turning the photograph for a better look as his gaze gained that focus of a niche interest being whetted. (Which, for Red, meant she was about to hear everything he knew about the pendent’s history in too much detail to called a summary, and Xaeryn found herself leaning forward slightly in anticipation.) He glanced up at her. “Isn’t this one of the pieces in that exhibit about to open in Haven?”

She nodded. “That’s why I’m researching it.” She bit her lip but barely hesitated on the gamble of her next words. ‘Those you trust’, Mr. Syndran had said, and there was no one she trusted more than Liefred Antiqua. “It was stolen, and I was hired to find.”

His head came up, derailed from the growing ramble on the pendent’s history. “Oh?”

“I’m a detective,” Xaeryn said, playing with one of her earrings. She laughed softly. “Scrying does give a considerable leg up to finding things. Or people. But that only works when--”

“You know enough about them,” Red nodded. “So this visit is for business, rather than personal.”

“Mostly, yes,” she conceded, resting one hand on his knee. I didn’t know you’d be here. “But I was more than willing to chat with Tevanti” --there was a pang in her chest--”which most definitely extends to you as well, Headmaster Antiqua.”

His neck and ears went faintly pink as he laughed. “Surely we don’t need to be quite so formal, Detective Shrike?”

“Just ‘Miss’,” she returned with a laugh of her own, withdrawing her hand to instead fiddle with her notepad. “I work for myself, not the cops.” There might’ve been a little pride in her voice at the words, but it was well-earned.

“I thought you wanted to travel,” Red said, turning her own remark back on her.

“And travel I did,” Xaeryn said lightly. “For quite a while, even. But a girl does need a job eventually, and I’ve always loved a good mystery.”

“Or even a bad one,” he teased. “All kidding aside, Miss Shrike, I’m sure you’re a brilliant investigator.”

She smiled, chuckling at the playful glint in his eye even as her ears warmed at the praise. “Thank you. And on that note, what can you tell me about the pendent?”

“Right, right. You’re here on business.” Amusement lingered in Red’s eyes even as he turned back to the photograph. His sleeves started to slide and he shoved them back up again. Xaeryn very deliberately kept her focus on the photograph, not his arms--or hands--as he tapped one finger at the center of the obsidian pendent. “This was a protection... charm, I suppose you’d call it, worn by the head of the Solimer tribe ages ago. Literal ages. Without refreshing my memory, all I can tell you is they were one of the few tribes whose wanderings regularly took them through the heart of the Jalis desert, and yet they always fared better on those journeys than the other tribes, which was credited to this pendent.”

“So it is magical?” Xaeryn leaned closer to look over the piece again, not that a photograph could do it full justice. This was a familiar position; the two of them bent over a shared project, and she hadn’t realized how much she missed it until that moment.

“Possibly?” Red shifted and his shoulder bumped hers. “ The story goes that on their first attempt to journey through, they saw a light, like a torch, keeping pace with them. It only showed up at night, and seemed far enough away from their caravan the chief felt it was too dangerous to let anyone go after it to see what it was. Their wariness at its presence, however, kept them vigilant enough they were able to see and fend off any wild animals that came after them, and it did nothing except travel their same path, so they let it be.

“A couple weeks into their journey, as their supplies were starting to run low, the chieftain’s wife was out hunting and strayed far enough in search of food that the sun started setting while she was out. As the skies grew dim she could see the Torch, much larger than they usually did from the caravan, though it was floating away. Seized by good old-fashioned curiosity” --he paused to wink at her and Xaeryn bit back a smile-- “she followed the light rather than work her way back to camp. She kept after it long enough night had nearly fallen when it crested a ridge and disappeared. She hastened after it, and when she made it over the ridge, found herself standing by a waterspring the likes of which they’d never seen. When she looked around for the light she’d followed, there was no sign of it, save a black rock that lay at her feet. There were no other rocks anywhere nearby, so she decided this must be what had caused the torch-like light her tribe had seen.

“She carried it with her when she returned to the tribe with news of water, and the Solimer took it as a sign of the gods’ favor. The chieftain had it bound in bronze” --he traced a finger along the lines of the coiled setting-- “to be worn as a way to hold that favor. It was passed from leader to leader and from all accounts they had far better luck surviving the desert than the other tribes for a long time.”

“Was that not likely just them knowing better how to handle themselves? If they traveled those portions of the desert more frequently, of course they were better prepared.”

“Maybe.” Red shrugged. “We have no firsthand written records from any of these tribes, just legends and history relayed orally. And a lot of the second-hand ones were... lost when the Autarchy came to power. From the way the stories run, after generation of favor from the pendent, it was lost when the Solimer were defeated in a skirmish over resources with another tribe. Their next several trips went so poorly it cost over half their number, and they wound up assimilated into other tribes within the next couple decades just to survive.”

“Sad,” Xaeryn murmured, though she wondered if the pendent’s loss had become a self-fulfilling prophecy if they believed in it that strongly. “And what happened to the pendent after that?”

“That’s all I know off the top of my head,” Red said sheepishly as he sat back, running a hand through his hair. “Anything more I’d have to research. To refresh my memory.”

“Oh, that’s all? Tsk, tsk, Liefred, you’re slipping,” she teased, then snorted a wry chuckle. “Of course, it’s more than I had.” She showed him the scant lines on a single page of her small notepad.

Red smiled at the sight of the shorthand and let the playful ribbing slide as he ran a finger over the page. “You tweaked it.”

“A bit, to make it jive better with detective work.” Xaeryn tucked the pad back in her handbag. She’d been so caught up listening to him talk she’d not taken a single note. “I’m certain you could work it out with a little time.”

“Oh, time-” Red’s gaze flew to the clock at the same moment there was a knock and muffled “Headmaster?” at the door. “Damn. Forgot I have a meeting.” He smiled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck. “Tribulations of being in charge. Just a minute!” he called toward the door, then, to Xaeryn, “I can look into this more in my free time, if you’d like.”

What free time? she almost asked, looking at the stacks of books and papers everywhere. But she swallowed that in favor of, “That would be lovely, thank you so much.”

“Any specific information you need?” Red asked as they stood.

“Anything you can find is welcome, but specifically.... What happened to the pendent after the Solimer lost it, who would have claim of ownership, if ownership is contested... anything like that. I want to find it, but part of that may very well lie in figuring out who would have most reason to steal it in the first place.” Xaeryn pulled out a business card and handed it to him. “So I don’t wind up nagging you,” she laughed. “You can call when you find something. The telephone’s in my office, but I live adjacent, so I’ll always hear it.”

Red nodded and slipped the card in his pocket. “I’ll try not to take too long.”

“Much appreciated. Also...” She grimaced slightly. “This is something of a secret; the Couriers don’t want it being common knowledge.”

“Understandable,” he said as they started toward the door. “Oh, don’t you need this?” He reached back for the photograph and held it out to her.

“Yes, thanks.” Xaeryn smiled and tried not to let the flutter in her chest when their fingers brushed as she took it gain purchase. She slipped the photograph back in her handbag as Red opened the door. Given the student waiting in the hall, she was the picture of professionalism--aside from the twinkle in her eye--as she nodded farewell. “Thank you for your time, Headmaster.”

Several things flashed through Red’s eyes, the brief desire to strangle her, a loud burst of laughter, an eyeroll, but he settled on a warm smile, wide enough his dimples just started to show. “Happy to help, Miss Shrike.”

She was still fighting a grin as she turned to descend the stairs, heart practically singing with warmth. Of all the lovely surprises... Regardless of whether she succeeded or failed, this case was already among the most worthwhile she’d ever taken, simply for bringing him back into her life.

#queens fic #shoh #shepherds summer 2021 #xaeryn shrike #red antiqua #ryn/red #i really got find them a ship tag #if you think their canon pining is good HOO BOY JUST WAIT #flamingelmo.gif #tlbt

25 notes · View notes

4aloysius-porteu · 3 years

Text

i really wish i hated you || tsukishima kei

masterlist | 1 | chapter 2 | 3

pairing: tsukishima kei x f! reader

sypnosis: It was an accident that (Y/N) met a certain tall, blonde male; a memory she isn't fond of remembering, but it is where it all started. And ever since, she magically makes her to his path. The image of the bespectacled man dwelled in her mind more than she thought. Tsukishima pushed away his softer emotions and denied their existence, or at least that's what he told himself. But then, he couldn't believe that this girl he labeled as a clumsy, unlucky creature who smashed his glasses is slowly bringing these strange emotions back to him. She might be irritating and dumb sometimes, but he couldn't get himself to completely hate her. Either that destiny was stupid, or he was blessed or cursed.

genre: fanfiction, fluff

wc: 1881

(Y/N) stopped her tracks upon hearing his voice and turned around to confirm, but it was true, much to her dismay. He held his black-rimmed glasses with its left lens and frame cracked. The girl's mind went blank. She hesitantly glanced at him a few times, hoping that he would forgive her or let the incident smoothly slide.

He hissed, "Don't think you can get away with this, miss."

She sighed in defeat. The kids approached her with worried looks. She patted her heads, accepting their sympathy. "Well, playtime's over."

"But we haven't finished the game!"

"Do you still want to play?"

"Yes!"

"Next time, when you see me again at the park. Onee-chan has to go now."

She bade goodbye to the children and walked towards the guy she hit with his friend. She looked at his broken glasses again and couldn't help but to let out an exhale with anxiety. This is the result of my stupidity...

"W-What do you want me to do?" (Y/N) slurred.

" I don't know, maybe you should fix it right here and right now." The blonde guy crossed his arms and frowned.

Why don't you just get to the point?

"Replace it."

Of course, she will have to replace it. What a question to ask. She mentally rolled her eyes.

"I'll check there out if there's an optical store, I guess you will have to keep an eye on me so that I won't escape?" She pointed to the nearby mall, walking distance from the park.

"What else? Nobody trusts a stranger."

They reached the town's mall and saw an open optical store, but (Y/N) remembered her wallet. She wasn't sure if there's enough money for her to buy glasses.

"On the second thought, can I buy the glasses tomorrow? I don't think I have enough money."

"No." He instantly replied.

"Tsukki," His green-haired companion interrupted, "Maybe we can give her a chance? What if she's telling the truth?"

"I need my glasses in my everyday life, and if she doesn't have the money, I'll be happy to spare her some, but she'll have no choice to be in my debt."

How merciless. It's not like (Y/N) could blame him, but if the same thing happened to her, she would treat them nicely. She looked around the store to find a pair of glasses exactly like his, as he demanded, with his friend helping her for 30 minutes. After she gets the correct measurements and eye grade, she emptied her wallet to pay for the damn thing,

"Here." She held out the new glasses in the case. "Take care of them, it costed my LAST savings."

He took them and wore them immediately, "I am taking care of my glasses, it's just someone 'accidentally' kicked a ball on my way and knocked them off. Thank you for the horrible experience."

He excused himself and walked away. His friend stayed to talk to her.

"I'm sorry for the way he acted, he's like this most of the times. Please understand," He bowed, shyness evident in his voice.

"It's okay, it was completely my fault, so I don't mind."

"It was an accident, though. Thank you for your generosity." He soon followed the blondie that headed first.

"That was mandatory, though." (Y/N) lightly chuckled to herself.

She got out of the mall to take in the fresh air, but her soul almost left her body when a bolt of lightning strikes a tree near her, setting it on fire.

"Oh, my fucking- Did the sky just attempted to finish me?!" She said, calming herself down and looking up. The clouds were much darker than earlier.

As the townspeople bombed the burning tree with water, she ran to her apartment before it rains. There, she dropped her things on the couch and flopped to her bed, thinking what happened on this day because of her own stupidity. She groaned when she held her now empty wallet.

"Argh! Why am I so unlucky?!"She threw her wallet in frustration.

"That tall, blonde, asshole! He didn't need to embarrass me in front of people! I didn't mean it! He could've waited for tomorrow for me to replace his glasses! He's so unforgiving!" She complained, hating the thought of the said guy.

She sighed, cringe, anger, and embarrassment filling her head as she hugged her pillow.

"May karma comes to him sometime," was her last words before drifting off to a nap.

A few days passed, she went out of the house again to buy food supplies in a convenience store. It was almost nighttime. The chilly wind blew to her face and the sweet scent wafted in the store. She picked up some junk food and meat first before stopping by the confectioneries section. While choosing what shortcake flavor to pick, she bumped into something that almost made her fall to the floor, if she hadn't retained her balance.

"Oof, I'm sorry..."

Or rather, it was a person she bumped into.

She looked up and recognized the face of the man. It was the guy she's kind of mad at, but this time, he didn't have his nice friend with him.

(Y/N) took a step back, "You!"

The male looked back at her, tilting his head, observing the girl. He spoke with a monotonous expression, "Do I know you?"

Her eye twitched in irritation, "He doesn't remember me?!"

"I was the girl in the playground three days ago! I... I replaced your glasses!" She said, hesitating on the next sentence.

"Oh." His eyebrows raised, "Did the midget learned her lesson not to play a sport she's bad at?" He mocked.

"I'm not even a soccer player to begin with! What are you doing here?"

"What? Am I not allowed to buy food in a convenience store like a normal person?"

"I've been buying stuff here and I've never seen a similar face I've met twice in a week or month. That's sus."

"Maybe you are following me."

"What do I gain by following a huge, mean person like you?" (Y/N) retorted.

"Perhaps you want to get back at me after what happened days ago even if it's your fault. I don't know. Ask yourself." He took his eyes off her to choose among the sweet desserts.

She paused, analyzing his comment, "Well, you aren't completely wrong..."

"So, I am being followed? What a stalker."

"Of course not! What you said might be possible, but it's not the case right now!"

Both of them have set their eyes on an item and surprisingly the same one. A strawberry shortcake in the middle of the section. Their hands both grabbed the object before staring at each other in annoyance.

"Let go." They chorused.

"I chose it first." Said (Y/N).

"I do not see your name in it. You let go." He replied.

"How about no?"

They glared at each other for a few minutes before (Y/N)'s brows creased deeper in the middle, knowing well that this guy won't back down. "Whatever, you take it. I don't care anymore."

"Wow, thanks." He subtly rolled his eyes then walked away.

It was very awkward in the cashier where she had to wait behind him. Damn, he's so tall. Does he play any sport? Is he human? Or probably just a walking, mean tree?

What happened in the park flashed in (Y N)'s mind again. The impact of the ball might have been so painful to him since he wears glasses, where it cracked. What if the shards got into his eyes? Her wallet isn't ready for more payments, but that isn't the issue right now. She was worried about his well being. Both of them got out of the convenience store and she called the blonde male before he could get away again.

"Uhh, hey!"

He looked over his shoulder a little, "What?"

"Are your eyes okay? I mean, your glasses cracked... shards could've got inside your eyes..."

"Yes, they're fine, fortunately."

(Y/N) let out a sigh of relief. "That's... good to hear."

"But if something happened to my eyes, I will not hesitate to find you and make you pay for an eye surgery."

"You're exaggerating."

"It's not impossible. Now, go home. Elementary school students shouldn't go past the curfew."

She frowned. If only he wasn't a stranger, she would've kicked his ass to hell.

"Oh, gladly. I wouldn't want to stay near a bootleg Eiffel Tower any longer. Have a good day for you."

The blonde male left without any more words. (Y/N) sighed again in mental exhaustion, having to finish a lot of things this night. She was walking straight to her home while thinking of ideas to put in her current project when she realized that he was still walking ahead in front of her.

Where is he going?

She made her footsteps lighter, not wanting him to think that she was following him. She was thinking where does this guy live or why is he walking the same route as she does. It's not wrong to know where does this asshole stay, right? This continued for a couple of minutes before he turned around.

"Will you stop following me?"

Her eyes widened, not expecting him to know that she was behind him, "Excuse me? I'm just walking to my place?"

"Really?" He narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

(Y/N) looked around to find a way to escape. There, she saw her house that she almost missed because her mind was occupied, "Oh, look. It's my house. I gotta go!"

She waved goodbye to the blonde stranger, ran to her apartment, and slammed the door, dying from the awkwardness. She proceeded to the kitchen to drop the food supplies and to cook for herself as well. The salt in the cupboard reminded her of the rude, four eyes that she just met again minutes ago. That's when she realized, she kept calling him either insults or his evident physical features when he probably has a name. She could've asked for his name earlier, but shrugged the idea off, thinking that he will never give her his name.

The common thing to do after graduating junior high is to find a decent high school. (Y/N) is scheduled to have her entrance exams next week, so she has to spend time reviewing her notes these days. She opted to go to the prefectural library the next day to get further references as she isn't satisfied with the books she has. It was Wednesday, thus it was full of people who are also preparing for their entrance exams. With her stature, it'll be easy to pass in this crowd of people but she will have to ask for help because she can't reach the books at the top of the shelves.

After wandering around the crowded library, she found an unoccupied table to quietly study. She made her way to it, carrying the heavy books she needed that was luckily located at the bottom shelves. As she set the books on the left side of the table, someone did the same on the opposite side. She looked up to see who the stranger is, only to find out that the person isn't a stranger to her anymore.

"Oh, the midget stalker is here."

#haikyuu!!#tsukishima kei #haikyuu tsukishima #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu angst #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu fluff #kei tsukishima #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei x reader #haikyuu headcannons #haikyuu x reader #tsukishima headcanons #tsukishima imagine #tsukishima scenarios #tsukki

59 notes · View notes

monsterywriting · 3 years

Text

Thenerius - pt 2

word count: 5,675

male tiefling x female reader

Read Part 1 here

AN: whelp i guess this is getting (hopefully just) a third part... good luck to everyone else who’s going through finals week and don’t procrastinate your final projects/tests like i am! literally have a final today to study for and take after my 8 am and a portfolio due friday i haven’t started on lol

You were getting one last bucket-full of water for a much-needed bath from the pump around the back of the barn, too far to hear when the thundering sound of hooves on the dirt path approach the cottage. You also miss the shout of greeting and the sound of voices entering the cottage.

The sun was finally dipping below the horizon on a long day of playing catch-up around the homestead, and your only plans for the evening were to wash up and make dinner before passing out. So, when you finally reentered through the back door soaked in sweat and worn work clothes only to see your mother sitting at the small wooden table with none other than Thenerius, you were understandably shocked.

He was obviously here to kill you, getting revenge for how you humiliated him and refused his advances when he wanted you to accept them the most. You had been brave in that moment, brushed aside the fact that he was a pirate and more likely than not a killer, and now you would be paying the price.

When the tiefling saw you frozen at the doorway, his already bright demeanor seemed to reach the levels of the surface of the sun, blinding then burning when he stood up to greet you enthusiastically. You almost wish he was here to kill you, that fate infinitely better than whatever he actually had planned instead.

Pointedly ignoring him, you addressed your mother only, asking if she took her medicine yet.

“Your friend from work was keeping me company,” your mother smiled, though it was clear that she was drained from the encounter, “He brought your weekly payment from Aedan.”

Your head snapped over to Thenerius, the tiefling having the nerve to grin and hold up a pouch of coins. You were distracted, however, when your mother let out a soft cough she tried in vain to hold back. She broke out into a coughing fit, starting small and growing until they wracked her body.

Your concern grew, helping her to the bedroom and quickly getting some cough syrup into her. Once she was settled, you went back into the main room to deal with the purple menace.

He was standing awkwardly in the middle of the room once you returned, the pouch sitting on the table. You stalk over and grab the pouch, shoving it into the tiefling’s chest.

“You need to leave,” you hiss, beginning to usher Thenerius towards the door.

“Wait!” The bastard had the nerve to dig his heels in, refusing to move until you give up on forcing him.

“What?” You spat, glaring up at him. Perhaps you would have found it amusing, how he had to duck his head to keep his horns from scraping the ceiling, a grizzled pirate trying to make himself fit inside the cozy cottage. No, you definitely would have found it hilarious, if said pirate wasn’t in your cottage unannounced, the location of which you never divulged during working hours, apparently trying to win your affections after your admittedly callous rejection.

“I-” Thenerius hesitated, any confidence he had that carried him all the way to your home dissipating when you weren’t as responsive to his charms as he’d come to expect from you, “I wanted to apologize. You were right, about the proposal. I shouldn’t have done that.”

You blinked, having assumed you’d be given another unwanted love confession. You’re not sure what to make of the admission, though you’re certain it wasn’t a trick, as he seemed genuinely remorseful.

“What part, that we’ve only known each other for three weeks or that it was because you were so lonely and any girl who wagged her tail at you would have had you falling for her?” You’re internally grimacing as soon as the words are out, unable to believe how cold you sound even to yourself. You didn’t want to goad him to anger if he was just here to apologize.

“If my memory serves correctly, I believe the exact phrase you used was ‘bat their eyelashes’ at me.” The attempt at humor didn’t quite reach Thenerius’ eyes, but you still allowed yourself to deflate at the opportunity of a reprieve, “but that it came too soon. I had done it thinking of all the time that had passed since I met you, the time I spent halfway across the world and all I could think about was returning to you. Your smile alone made the entire six month journey worth it, but you gave me so much more in that time - not your love. I know that, now, but… your time, and affection. Once you said that - that we’d only been in each other’s presence for three weeks - I realized, perhaps I was rushed in my assessment of who you were. I filled the gaps of who I wanted you to be in my head.”

By the end of his faltering speech, you had shut your eyes, screwing them tightly shut in order to avoid having to look into Thenerius’ eyes, the raw emotion that swelled behind them that threatened to consume you with it. You refused to allow yourself to be caught up in the moment, to let yourself fall any deeper in than you already were entrenched from his flowery words. Just words, you told yourself.

“Is that all you needed to say?” You clear your throat, opening your eyes and looking anywhere but him, your resolve thinning with the mere awareness of his gaze upon you, feeling yourself being worn down.

Perhaps ‘worn down’ wasn’t the right verbiage, though it very much felt like it. Dragging you out into the light? Exposing you to be scrutinized, or to be known? What is the difference, if any? Either way, you felt as though Thenerius could read every passing thought darting around your head at lightening speed, projecting loud and clear your true desires no matter what you could say to the contrary.

“No, I want to know you. My feelings haven’t changed since that night, but I want you to feel the same.”

You let out a deep breath you weren’t aware you were holding. The short sentence is so simple, clear in meaning and intent. It’s… infuriating. A wave of something flowed over you in that moment, a realization like a bucket of ice water dousing you. You were shaking, your realized, but not with cold.

“You want to change my mind?” You whisper, cursing yourself for your inability to do much more in this conversation than to parrot his words, “You come to my home - unprompted, in fact, considering our last conversation, entirely unnecessarily - to what, exactly? Prove that I’m some prize to be won over by you? Come see how sorry my life is, see my sick mother and how I work my ass off at the tavern and here and think I’ll jump into your arms with some words? You must know that I wouldn’t go with you. Nor would I sit here waiting for you to return from the sea, hoping you’ll return for a few weeks every year and grace me with your presence and gold.”

You pause for air, realizing with horror that you were crying of all things. You quickly run your hands over your cheeks, glaring at Thenerius in a silent challenge, waiting for him to turn tail and run, “Now go.”

In yet another turn of seemingly endless events that should no longer have surprised you with how consistently they’ve been happening, Thenerius surprised you yet again.

“Well, this is awkward. I may have sent my men back south with my ship. I’m in need of room and board,” Thenerius said, and for the life of you, no matter how closely you examined his expression, you could not figure out what the hell he was thinking.

“Go to The Deep, then. I happen to be of the inside knowledge that there’s plenty of vacancies this time of year,” you said, brushing past the tiefling on your way back to your forgotten bucket of water, ready to escape this suffocating atmosphere.

“I don’t have enough gold for the length of time I’m planning on staying,” he replied.

“This is sounding more and more like your crew left you here and took the ship for themselves,” you deadpan, hefting the bucket up and carefully carrying it back towards the bathroom.

“My crew wouldn’t do that,” Thenerius’ voice suddenly turned serious, “I wouldn’t- I wouldn’t have come here if they had.”

“Well, unlucky me, then,” you grumble, “You’re still not staying here.”

“You’re very sarcastic,” Thenerius noted, and you prayed for his sake that the comment wasn’t a part of his vow to get to know the real you.

You disappear down the hall and into the bathroom, dumping the bucket into the basin. To your great relief, the water was still steaming.

“Wait, your pay!” Thenerius walked in behind you. You could tell the exact moment he realized where he was, quickly averting his eyes from you.

You roll your eyes. As if you would undress for any reason while he was still in the house.

“Please, you may have lied to my mother, but I’m no fool,” you snort, ignoring the outstretched hand to check the water, “Mr. Thistle would never trust a pirate with money, much less tell you where I live.”

“I’ll- come back later,” he says, turning to get out the room.

“No, you’re leaving,” you follow after him.

“Dear, it’s much to too late for him to ride, he can sleep here.” You and Thenerius both jump at your mother’s sudden appearance, both of you having forgotten that you were arguing right in front of the bedroom.

“But-” your protest is cut short when she only shakes her head, and you hope to Tova that she only caught the tail-end of your conversation with Thenerius.

“If you must, you can ride with him tomorrow to ask Aedan to give him a discount. Tomorrow.”

You run your hands down your face, glancing out the nearest window to confirm it was in fact dark out.

“Fine,” you sigh, pointing at Thenerius, “but you’re gone first thing tomorrow!”

Thenerius at least has the decency to not look too excited under your scrutiny, thanking your mother quietly.

“Go wash up, mom, it’s ready,” you inform her, moving away from the doorway so she can slip past.

You consider telling Thenerius to go last in the bath, but you’re covered in dried mud and animal shit and you weren’t going to have his tavern smell stinking up the sofa.

“You’re next,” you tell him, finally noticing how cramped the hallway was with two people in it. You push past him to to sit at the table again.

Thenerius followed you, keen to the fact that he was on thin ice and remained wisely silent as you waited for your mother to finish in the bathroom.

When she exited, dressed in her nightgown and hair wrapped tightly in a towel, you ushered Thenerius in, barely giving him time to grab his bag on the floor next to the chair he’d been sitting in when you first walked in. You enter close behind, going around him to grab a towel for him to use and quickly leaving him to his privacy, letting out the longest exhale of your life once the door shut behind you. You go back to the table and sit, trying not to think about the naked tiefling in your bathtub as you started the fire under the stove.

As soon as Thenerius stepped out of the bathroom with his bag in hand, you rush in, not making eye contact before you slam the door shut behind yourself.

The water is still somewhat lukewarm, and clear enough besides the murkiness from the soap. You think about literally anything else besides the fact that Thenerius had been in the same water just minutes before you, using the bowl to run water over your hair and quickly lathering the bar soap with a clean washcloth. The sooner you get out the better, you think.

It isn’t until you’re out of the bath and looking at your nightclothes that you realize you’re going to have to wear them in front of him, unless you change into clean day clothes just to change into them in the privacy of your bedroom later.

It’s just tonight, you tell yourself, he’ll be gone tomorrow. And why would you have to modify your routine for him? He’s the one intruding. It won’t be a big deal so lang as you act like it isn’t. It’s not like you’ll be prancing around naked. They’re your winter ones, the material made much thicker than the normal cotton.

Properly talked up, you walk out, pretending not to notice how Thenerius stops mid-sentence in a conversation with your mother to stare at you like the moon herself descended in front of him.

“I’ll have dinner ready soon.” You mumble, not stopping until you were safely in the kitchen.

You take the last eight eggs and crack them onto the iron skillet sitting on the stove, immediately sizzling before you take a flat spoon to scramble and scrape them into three plates. You then add leftover cuts from a chicken you culled from your flock a week ago to the skillet to cook, already seasoned. Then, you took the stack of unleavened bread your mother made during the day while you worked before putting them on another flat slab of iron on the stove to warm them.

Once you had a sizable enough stack for three people, you wrapped the resulting unleavened bread in cloth and balanced the three plates in your arms and carried everything back into the dining area.

You had heard Thenerius and your mother sharing a hushed conversation through the walls, but weren’t able to make out any specifics. However, when thy both immediate hushed up once you entered, it was clear who the topic of their chat was.

You set down the plates, frowning once you realized you’d have to sit next to Thenerius, as it was only a four-person table and they were already sitting at opposite ends. Once you were seated, however, the dinner conversation was thankfully limited as everyone focused on their plates.

Then it was time for your mother to take her tablets, you watching carefully as she downed them with a cup of water. She retired to the bedroom shortly after, and though she tried to make it seem as though she was solely doing it to give you and Thenerius some privacy, it was obvious she was drained of all energy as she slowly shuffled down the hall.

You ignore Thenerius and grab the plates, taking them to the kitchen to dump the scraps in the bin and be washed. Thenerius’ plate is practically clean already, but your mother’s is concerningly hardly touched at all.

Dunking the emptied plates plates in the half-full sink, you scrub vigorously. Just as you are about to place the first one on the rack to dry, however, Thenerius takes it from you and dries it with the dishtowel.

You decide to say nothing, simply handing him the next plate once he placed the previous one on the rack.

You bring Thenerius a stack of blankets, dumping them on the cot next to where he sat for him to assemble himself.

Just as you turn to leave, a hand falls on your shoulder and you immediately stiffen. It quickly retracts.

“I don’t need this many,” Thenerius says quietly, looking dejected when you look over your shoulder at him as he tries to hand you a few of the blankets back.

“You do,” you inform him, “we’re at a higher altitude. It’s going to get colder.”

Thenerius places them back on the pile, his mouth opening and then closing. You wait. Finally, he clears his throat, “Thank you, for dinner. And for letting me stay here.”

“Thank my mom,” you reply, “and don’t get used to it. I was serious when I said you’re gone tomorrow.”

After a moment, Thenerius smiles, small but hopeful, “not first thing?”

“You have to pay for the meal and bed,” you huff, turning back around and going into the bedroom, careful to be quiet as you cross the cottage so as to not wake your mother.

You make sure the door is shut securely, and for good measure, you stick a piece of paper in the gap between the top of the door and the frame. You don’t think you’ll be able to sleep with the knowledge of a stranger sleeping in the next room, but almost as soon as your head hits the pillow, you’re waking to the sound of the rooster crowing the next morning.

You sit up abruptly, your mother still asleep next to you. You swing your legs over the edge of the mattress and scurry to the door, the paper still in the same spot you placed it when you take it back down.

You open the door quietly and slip out, glancing around the corner at the end of the hall to the cot. On the side closest to you, the stack of blankets are folded neatly, Thenerius’ pack leaning against one of the cot’s legs.

Your eyebrows furrow, going back to make sure the bathroom was empty before checking the kitchen, seeing neither hide nor hair of Thenerius in the cottage. Before you go search outside for the tiefling, you decide to at least get the stove going to warm up the cottage. As you stand in the kitchen looking for the box of matches, you realize you can hear the familiar, rhythmic thumping of an axe hitting wood.

Glancing out the window, you see Thenerius at an old stump splitting firewood a few yards away, his coat off and hanging from a tree branch. He stops to brush his hair back, careful to avoid his horns, before continuing.

Against your better judgement, you study him from the safety of the indoors. The last time you’d seen him, it had been shaved close. He apparently grew it out since then, dark waves forming curls around the nape of his neck that you’d noticed when he first arrived at the deep and now was sticking to his scalp with sweat.

As the sun broke over the horizon and illuminated the clearing, you could see how Thenerius’ back muscles flexed under the fabric of his shirt, sleeves rolled up to expose his thick forearms. Obviously, as a pirate, he would have to be at least somewhat fit. Hell, you’d felt them whenever he would insist you touch his arm while he flexed or would pull you into his lap.

But none of that quite prepared you for how he would look without the barrier of his coat, how he likely looked working out at sea.

You force your eyes back to the task at hand before they can venture downwards, finally finding the matches and lighting one with shaking hands before lighting the scrap of paper and tossing both into the stove.

Shutting the door and opening the grate, you return to the bedroom to change into your day clothes.

You immediately regret stepping outside as soon as you do, the light of the sun doing little to warm the icy air rushing inside your lungs and burning against your skin. Still, you are determined as you march around the cottage to where Thenerius continues to split the pieces of wood, though the pile of wood that took you months to chop down and cut into sections was now nearly gone and a neat stack of his split pieces had taken its place.

“I noticed you were running low,” Thenerius calls out as you approach, smiling as your eyes met his.

“It’s fine,” you huff, Thenerius’ smile brightening as though you just extended him the best praise of his life.

Annoyance bubbled in your stomach. Did he think he was cute? Acting like a love-struck teen and not a Tova-damned pirate? Or did he think you would be tricked by the illusion he put forth if he played pretend enough?

“Hurry up and finish that. There’s more work to do before breakfast,” you mutter, turning towards the barn as he would no doubt be crestfallen as you continue, “Then we’re going to The Deep.”

You go back to the kitchen briefly to grab the scrap bin before going to the chicken coop, making sure to latch the screen door behind you. You drop the scraps at the center of the enclosure, the chickens running over each other in a clucking mass of feathers and beating wings in their attempt to get at the food first. A few even manage to steal a few morsels before the more dominant ones chase them off.

Once the nesting area was empty, you went over and started collecting eggs in the same bin. Only six today, and you cooked the last of them in storage for dinner the night before. You worry your bottom lip, looking at the flock.

There were five hens and the rooster. You had been planning to let them breed in the spring to bring their numbers up, but that was still a long ways away.

You glanced over at the goats, currently in the pasture with the horses. You had two bucks and eight does. You had sold off the kids of four of the does, leaving you with five kids, three males. There was still the cured meat you got from the storehouse the other day, so you wouldn’t have to do anything drastic for food just yet, but it wouldn’t last soon at your current rate.

You had been planning on buying rabbits to raise for meat and fur, but you hadn’t been able to find the time to finish the winter hutch that was still partially completed in the barn.

Then you thought about everything else you had to do soon - castrate the three kids, patch the barn roof, harvest the second pasture’s grass and dry it for hay… and it seemed like every day you found something that needed repairing or replacing.

But… if Thenerius does plan on staying, you just may be able to keep everything afloat for the time being. With him there to collect the eggs and milk the goats while you worked shifts at the deep, then- appalled that you were planning ahead as though you would allow Thenerius to stay for months on end with you. No, you survived the last winter without any help, you could do the same this year.

Letting out a sigh, you dropped the eggs off in the kitchen before going back to the barn to wrap the horses snugly in blankets and let them out to graze in the pasture connected to the barn.

By that point, Thenerius comes to find you. You were admittedly surprised he’d finished that quickly, soaked with sweat and breathing heavily as he told you he was finished. You had even gone to check, not quite able to believe he’d gone through the entire wood pile that fast, or at least correctly. He looked proud when you peer up at him, but you refuse to praise him, directing him instead to the pasture while you grab two pails from the barn.

After showing him how to milk the does, you quickly fill about two pail's worth of milk between you from the four kidless does.

After taking the milk to the small pasteurizer in the barn, you set about making breakfast.

After taking the milk to the small pasteurizer in the barn, you and Thenerius returned to the cottage, your mother already up and standing by the stove.

You waste no time getting breakfast ready, making the six eggs you collected and take out the smoked meat. You make up two plates, setting them down in front of the two.

“I’ll be back soon,” you tell your mother, gripping her shoulder for a moment, “Don’t forget to take your medicine.”

“I’ve been taking it for three years, I don’t need you reminding all the time, you know,” your mother huffed, but she still pressed a kiss to the top of your head and waving you off.

“You aren’t going to eat?” Thenerius asked, thankfully swallowing his mouthful before speaking.

“I ate a couple boiled eggs while I cooked,” you reply, “clean the dishes after you’re done. We’ll go to The Deep afterwards.”

Grabbing your purse and heading to the barn, you click your tongue at the door leading out to the pasture, grabbing his saddle as your horse neighs loudly and nearly trampling over Thenerius’ horse in his attempt to get to you.

Any attempts on your part to name the capricious animal had been in vain, as he only ever responded to the sound of a clicking tongue, what your mother called him over to eat. It explained why he was fatter than a pregnant mare when you got here, unridden and getting fat on the lush pasture to himself and the treats.

Horse, as you’d taken to referring to him in your head, shoved his face into your hands, sticking your entire hand into his mouth in search of treats. You fish out a peeled hard-boiled egg from your pocket, the treat disappearing from your hand before you can even unfurl your fingers, Horse chewing it down quickly. Thenerius’ horse ventures over once she realizes you have food, and you have to press an open palm against Horse’s face to keep him from snatching the second egg you pull out before she can gently take it from you.

“Are those the eggs you ‘ate’?” You jump as Thenerius suddenly appears next to you, and you glare at him for sneaking up at you.

“I need to bribe him to come over and let me saddle him,” you said, neither confirming or denying the tiefling’s accusation, “he’ll be angry the entire ride otherwise.”

“Why didn’t you eat?” Thenerius presses, his eyes never leaving you as you unpin Horse’s blanket and refold it, throwing it over his back before securing his saddle on top.

“There wasn’t enough,” you shrug, climbing onto Horse’s back and pressing your legs momentarily into his side to get him to start walking.

You’re almost to the main road when you hear Thenerius pull up beside you.

“You should have taken mine,” he says after a moment.

You sigh. Clearly, wanting a nice, quiet stroll into town was too much to ask for, “Our horse is fine. He needs the exercise, anyways.”

“Not the horse, the food,” Thenerius said, actually sounding irate with you, “if there wasn’t enough you should have eaten mine.”

You bite back a laugh. You’ve heard Thenerius actually angry before, yelling at his crew members when one shoved another into a table in the tavern and broke it.

He’d been absolutely furious then, scaring even you with how his red eyes burned like hot coals, his face darkening to what you assumed to be an unhealthy purple-blue color as he nearly came to blows with the offenders. That feared pirate captain now reprimanded you like a child.

“Please, it’s one meal,” you snort, “I had plenty while I was working.”

“You shouldn’t skip meals,” he insisted, drawing close to your side to look down at you sternly, “You’re going to still be working the rest of the day after this, aren’t you?”

You roll your eyes and snap your reins, Horse speeding up to a canter and leaving Thenerius behind. The journey was familiar to you both, and you don’t even need to provide the horse with direction as he follows the twists and turns of the winding path with a sure foot.

You just want to hurry and reach The Deep, collect your pay, dump Thenerius on them and then go to Alfore to meet with the doctor about your mother.

You reach The Deep before Thenerius, tying Horse to a post outside the stables and making a beeline inside with barely contained excitement.

When you enter the tavern, Lenora is the only one in. Her welcoming smile quickly shrinks into a sheepish one once she sees you, however, turning on one heel to head straight towards the inn portion of the building.

Your eyes narrow, making a detour from Mr. Thistle’s office to go after her. You had an inkling as to what that was all about, and you couldn’t help but need to confirm it.

Your hand falls onto her shoulder and grips it tight, yanking her back just before she can abscond up the steps.

“Where are you going?” You ask, putting on a pleasant smile for the few patrons at the bar as you steer her down the hall to the privacy of the storage room, once an office.

“Please don’t kill me - he tricked me into telling!” Lenora begged for mercy immediate, clasping both hands in front of her.

“I highly doubt that,” you cross your arms, raising an eyebrow and waiting for her to try again.

Lenora had always been something of a romantic, constantly falling for one sweet gesture after another and declaring someone her ‘soulmate’ every few months. If she caught wind of Thenerius’ proposal, of course she’d think it was fine to play matchmaker. But that didn’t mean you weren’t going to make her sweat to teach her a lesson.

“Ok, but my intentions were good!” She pleaded, shaking your arm, “I mean, he obviously loves you, so I thought if he saw how you were living, you could get him to give you enough money for your mom!”

Your eyes widen, anger draining from your face and replaced with hurt, “so you told a stranger where I live, where my mother lives, so I could get him to feel sorry for me and bankroll my expenses? What else would I do, hm? Let him sleep with me for an allowance?”

Lenora realized her mistake too late, unable to backtrack as you spun around and left the room. You walk straight past Mr. Thistle’s office, too distraught to think about what you came here to do.

You untie Horse and quickly mount him, spurring him to go forward.

“Please don’t be angry! I didn’t mean you would do anything like that, I just wanted to help you-” you snap the reins twice to get Horse to a gallop.

“Are you okay?” You think Thenerius calls out, but you pay him no time as you race past, reaching the main road in no time and heading down the straight path to Alfore.

Your breathing is erratic as you try to get a handle on the unfamiliar emotions that threatened to overwhelm you. Perhaps in the past, you would have acted out in anger, lashed out at Lenora for the insult implied.

Now, however, you’re just tired. Worn out from two years of being back in this shithole, struggling to make ends meet, doing whatever you could. And because of that, your own coworker - someone you thought of as a friend, even - believed you to be so unscrupulous in your need for money that you’d take advantage of someone’s emotions for your own ends.

The worst part is, you were tempted. Tempted to step back. Tempted to let someone else take the reins. Tempted to use Thenerius’ misguided feelings for you to your advantage.

Had this what you’d been reduced to, from academic work to flirting shamelessly with customers to line your pockets? Do things your mother never did even when she was doing the same job, running the homestead, and saving money for you to move to the capital for your schooling?

So, at the end of your rapid-fire cycling through the stages of grief, you have no desire to fight Lenora over her true thoughts about you, nor do you wish to turn on Thenerius for the way he’s crashed into your life. You don’t qualify every action you ever did out of necessity or lay bare the fact that you were actually embarrassed by them. You don’t try to separate yourself from your choices by bringing up your past life or hard work. You simply loathe yourself for it.

Without your constant commands, Horse slows to a trot. You allow it, not wanting him to get hurt because of you. However, you soon regret your decision as you hear hooves charging up to you from behind.

You pull over to the side of the road, praying that whoever it was just passed you by. Of course, you had no such luck, the other horse slowing down next to you and Thenerius looking down at you with a concerned expression.

You say nothing and you don’t bother trying to outrun him, resigned to the fact that you wouldn’t be shaking him anytime soon.

“It wasn’t her fault,” he said once it was clear you weren’t speaking, drawing your sulking expression to point directly at him, “I pressured her to tell me where to find you.”

“Why are you still here?” You ask instead, exasperated and unwilling to have a conversation with him of all people about what happened between you and Lenora.

“I told you, my feelings for you haven’t changed,” Thenerius said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Even if I allow you to stay, it would only be to use you,” you argue, “you could work for months and waste your time if I never change my mind. Doesn’t that make you angry?”

“No,” he replied, a warm smile adorning his face as he looked at you, “because you said if.”

You blink dumbly as he spurs his horse forward, leaving you to catch up.

part 3

#exophilia #monster boyfriend #reader insert #tiefling boyfriend #tiefling

110 notes · View notes

seasonsofeverlark · 4 years

Text

My Apple Love

Author: @evestedic

Prompt: Late one chilly fall night, teen Katniss is high up in the Mellark’s apple tree certain no one will miss a few apples, never expecting to be seen by/or to see the boy with the bread and why he’s still awake. [submitted by @567inpanem]

Rating: T

Trigger Warning: Implied/referenced physical abuse

She wouldn’t be doing this if Prim hadn’t looked so hopeful.

Scratch that, she wouldn’t be doing this if it weren’t for Prim surreptitiously glancing at the red orbs with so much intensity each time they went and came from school it looked like they would burst.

This was wrong; it was a step away from stealing, but really, there were so many! And Katniss was planning on slipping the baker at least two more squirrels and a quail next time they exchanged. When he turned his back, of course. Mr. Mellark was nothing if not fair, even giving more than her game was worth when he knew special occasions, such as Prim’s or her mother’s birthday, were close.

So, because Katniss wanted to give Prim every measly thing she could, here she was, on a school night, at almost midnight, climbing the Mellarks’ apple tree.

It was high, but not the highest she had climbed. She just hoped everyone was asleep. Katniss knew they woke up as early as her to prepare for the day, so they should go to sleep early as well, right?

Wrong.

She had one apple in the bag and was going for the second‒she was only going to take two‒when she noticed the room in front of the branch she was sitting on lit up, then a door slamming closed. Katniss watched, absolutely stunned, as Peeta Mellark pushed a heavy-looking dresser with just one arm, apparently, just in time. Loud bangs and yelling could be heard on the other side, but the door wouldn’t budge.

Peeta turned around, and it was Katniss’ hunter instincts that made her swallow her gasp. He had a split lip and a red eye that would surely be swollen by tomorrow. One of his hands was holding his midsection as if it hurt to simply breathe, Peeta sighed and leaned against the wall before letting himself fall to the floor and cry.

I need to run, I have to get out of here.

But apparently the baker’s family went to bed late. Lights were lit on the first floor where loud yelling could be heard. Even though she was trying to think of a solution, Katniss was starting to think she might have to spend a good portion of the night here.

When she turned her eyes back into the bedroom, she saw Peeta looking directly at where she was.

Staying completely still, she didn’t dare to even blink; Katniss locked her muscles up, and she swore her breathing slowed down to avoid any kind of movement.

Peeta kept on looking.

Her eyes were starting to hurt. She blinked.

His face said it all; he had seen her.

Katniss saw his mouth forming her name, but he quickly stopped himself, checking back at the door again and then lifting himself from the floor, with no small effort.

She saw him opening his window with one hand, still holding onto his side.

“Katniss!” he harshly whispered. “How-What are you doing here?”

She didn’t know what to say. Katniss, for some reason, felt the urge to cry because there was no way she could buy her way out of this. She didn’t believe Peeta would alert his parents about her delinquent activities, but if they did notice, she was sure his mother would gladly and joyfully take her to a Peacekeeper.

“Katniss, are you alright? Was there something you needed? Can I help you?”

Of course Peeta would ask something like that when she was the one perched on a branch outside of his window in his family’s garden.

“I just…I just wanted an apple.” Her face was burning with shame. Not only because she had been caught stealing, but because this was something Katniss would’ve never, ever done before.

Peeta seemed to understand and, once again, turned back to his door.

“Seems like my mother is going back to sleep. Can you see if the lights below are off?” She checked and nodded. “Okay, so I think your safest bet is to wait for at least ten minutes and then leave. I assume you’ll be able to get down on your own?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Take as many apples as you want; we have tons. It’s a pity some of them go to waste.”

“Okay.”

Seemed like neither of them knew what to say. Peeta’s eyes were still swollen, but Katniss wouldn’t even dare make fun of him for crying; after all, it seemed like he had been on the bad end of a fight. This was confirmed when he suddenly coughed but was cut short, and Katniss saw him hissing in pain, punching the window frame with his other hand.

“Are you okay?” Great question, Katniss.

He kind of chuckled, but it was a painful sound. “I will be.” He looked at her for a second. “Are you worried about me?”

“No!”

“Shhhhh!”

They both went still, waiting to hear something. After several seconds, though, they realized it was okay.

“I think you can go down now. I’ll move the dresser again so the noise will cover yours if needed.”

Katniss felt fear. It was irrational, but to know he would expose himself and risk falling into the clutches of his mother again…

“Don’t do that. I’m very quiet; they won’t notice.”

“I’d rather-”

“It’s okay, really. Look.” She proved her point by raising her arm and grabbing one more apple, then slowly going to the nearest lowest branch.

“Wow, that’s…wow. Now I know how you get them through the eye every time.” Katniss blushed again, but this time she didn’t know why. “Be careful, Katniss.”

“Yeah…you too.”

When her feet touched the ground, she looked up one more time to find Petta still at his window. He raised his hand in goodbye; she nodded, and then ran away.

The next day, Katniss’ eyes kept searching for a pair of blue one, but she didn’t find them. It was clear that Peeta Mellark hadn’t come to school today, which made her glad for making her mix of herbs the night before.

She, first, sent Prim home, made sure she started on her homework before leaving again. Katniss had waited long enough for everyone to be back home from school. She wanted to avoid any curious gazes as much as possible.

Taking a deep breath, she knocked on the bakery’s back door.

A surprised Harland Mellark came out, but immediately smiled when he saw her.

“Hello, Katniss. Isn’t it a bit late for our exchange?”

“Good afternoon, I’m sorry to bother you. Um…Is Peeta home?”

Once again, his face denoted surprise, and Katniss started to wonder if it would have been best to leave the bag on the floor and run, but she didn’t know if they would understand how to use it or believe it would work at all.

“He is. Let me see if he’s awake. Come in.” Katniss was hyper-aware of going inside; she rarely did, and the fact that she had taken two apples the day before… “It’s okay, my wife is gone for the afternoon.” That relaxed her a bit, and she accepted the invitation.

She stood in the back of the store, still as a statue. Katniss heard something falling on the floor above her and then hurried steps and conversation. She saw the baker coming down, chuckling to himself, and he asked Katniss to wait for a bit.

Not thirty seconds later, heavy footsteps could be heard on the staircase. Peeta Mellark was coming down, and it seemed his ribs were much better than the day before, though his face was way, way worse.

“Hey, um…hi.” He awkwardly greeted her once he stepped into the room.

Katniss couldn’t help but assess his injuries. Not that she had any talent as a healer like her mother and Prim, but she had seen her fair share of them through the years and had picked up a thing or two, plus the fact that she used to get herself injured when she first started hunting.

“Hi. Here.” She shoved the bag at him, and he quickly took it, confused. “This is a mix of herbs that will help with swelling. Just brew them as normal tea, and if you have tea bags, put them inside that. If you keep them cool, like the cakes, they will last for a couple of days at least. Um…wait, so, the tea bags or the leaves, put them on your face overnight, and the swelling will subside.”

“Uh…what?”

Katniss swore she would’ve strangled him if he wasn’t looking so bad. His eye was almost closed shut! And his lip definitely had to hurt.

“If you have tea bags, put the herbs inside; if not, brew them as they are. Keep them cool if you want them to last. Put them on your face overnight for the swelling to subside. Seriously, Mellark, it’s not that difficult.” She grumbled out.

“I see, I- How much is this?”

“What?” Her tone and her eyes must have been what she used to scold Prim because Peeta suddenly looked at her as if he was a caged animal.

“I mean, this is medicine, right? And if your mom took the time to-”

“I did it, not my mother.”

“Really?” His good eye seemed to sparkle at this bit of unnecessary information she’d just spilled.

“Payment for the apples.”

“I told you a lot of them go to waste, so it’s okay.” He still managed to smile. How could he smile like that after being beaten up so brutally?

Katniss remembered being naughty and getting a slap to the hand or a couple of spanks on her backside, nothing major, but this? This was too much.

And she owed him. She knew she owed him more than he could probably imagine.

“Take it as a late thank you, then.”

“For what?”

“The bread…”

Neither had mentioned the rainy day, the burnt bread tossed to the ground, near enough for her to catch but far enough for his mother to notice. Though wet on the outside, the inside had still been warm, and when she finally took a bite and felt her stomach struggling with the heavy food it wasn’t used to getting, Katniss shed a tear that she quickly wiped away before her mother or Prim could see.

She owed him, because Peeta Mellark had saved her life, and thus, her family’s.

Unable to take even one more moment of the charged atmosphere, Katniss turned around and went for the door, only to be stopped by a strong grip on her arm, stronger than she imagined it would be.

Her eyes shot to her arm, amazed at the stark contrast between her olive skin against Peeta’s white. It shouldn’t, actually, for Prim’s skin tone was very close to Peeta’s. But then again, Prim’s hand wasn’t so big, with veins bulging underneath the skin and strength that could probably toss her over if needed.

“Thank you, Katniss.” He quickly let her go, but even if his hand wasn’t holding her back anymore, she stayed in place.

The sound of a voice quickly pulled both of them back. “He better not still be in bed!”

Faster than lightning, Katniss left the bakery, running towards the Seam. Her cheeks were definitely not red.

Katniss had been a bit worried the next day; she still hadn’t seen Peeta around.

It wasn’t that they were friends, because they weren’t, but now she couldn’t stop thinking about several times over the years when she had seen him come in with some kind of limp, bruise, or mark on his body. He always loudly claimed that was how brothers played, and Katniss did notice boys being rowdier than girls, so she never thought too much about it…

But now?

Now she knew that Peeta’s life wasn’t as nice as she thought. Katniss distinctly remembered one occasion when she heard his brother, Rye, complaining about only eating stale bread or pastries, as their mother, trying to sell every batch, wouldn’t give them the fresh stuff. Adding that to the fact she knew his mother beat him to the point of making him cry, enraged Katniss.

She wasn’t angry with Peeta, of course not, but with herself, for assuming Peeta was something he wasn’t, and with his mother. Who in their right mind would abuse their kids like that?

She was thinking so hard that she hadn’t paid proper attention in class, not that she needed to learn more about coal and the function her district fulfilled in Panem. However, she was startled when Prim gently elbowed her.

“What is it, Little Duck?”

“Look over there.”

Katniss raised her eyes, and there he was, Peeta Mellark. He looked much better; the swelling had significantly gone down, and she was glad. He waved at her, and she nodded back.

“Go talk to him, he seems to want to say something.”

“We need to go home.”

“I’ll go with the girls. Just tell me everything later, okay?”

Katniss rolled her eyes. “There’s nothing to tell, Prim.”

“Sure there isn’t. Say hello to him for me.” And her sister skipped ahead, joining her friends.

Katniss grumbled and glared at Peeta, which seemed to either not reach him or affect him. She quickly walked over to him and harshly asked what he wanted.

“Just to see you.”

“You could’ve done that from here without calling me over.”

“I know, sorry.” He looked down and put his hand behind his neck. “I just…wanted to thank you again. Those herbs are magic, I swear. You should’ve seen my mother’s face today.”

“Did she do something? Did she hit you again? Or took away the herbs?” All questions had come one after the other. Katniss was speaking fast, and she hadn’t even realized it. At least, not until Peeta’s gaze turned soft towards her, which again made a funny churning feeling set in her stomach.

“No, she didn’t do anything. But she was greatly impressed when she saw my eye all better; it was supposed to be a bit worse today before it started to heal.”

“She was expecting you to get worse!?” She hadn’t noticed, but they had started to walk slowly towards the path leading to the Seam.

“Well…yeah, I think we all were. That’s how bruises work; they get worse before they get better.”

“And this isn’t the first time she’s done it.”

“No…”

“Doesn’t your dad do anything when she hits you and your brother?” Katniss liked Harland, but if he was just standing in the background while his kids were getting beaten up…

“Well…it’s actually just me.”

“What!?” How was that even possible?

“I think it’s because I wasn’t a girl.” Katniss looked at him, confused. “My mom wanted a girl ever since she married dad. When they got a boy, she was happy, but she still wanted to try for a girl; then, Rye was born. My dad thought that was enough, but she wanted a girl by any means necessary. She promised my dad that if the third one wasn’t a girl, they could stop trying and he relented, even if it was very unusual for a merchant family.”

Katniss knew what he was talking about. The Seam families were the ones reproducing like rabbits, for being as poor as they were, they couldn’t afford the fancy methods of avoiding pregnancy. Herbs could only do so much. “So, she made everything pink. The clothes, the room, the ribbons. She excitedly chose the name and waited for her little girl…and then, I was born.”

“You are seriously telling me she resents you for being born a male?” He nodded. “But that’s ridiculous. I mean, that’s nobody’s fault! Or, if she wants to blame someone, make her blame your dad!”

“My dad?”

“I’m not entirely sure, but when my mother gave me…the talk,” Peeta nodded in understanding, pink coloring both of their cheeks, “she gave me the doctor’s perspective and the woman’s perspective.”

“That must have been interesting.”

“Don’t remind me. So, she gave me this old, frail-looking book. I can’t remember too much because there were lots of weird names that I’ve never heard, but the process was incredible.”

“How so?”

So, Katniss explained, as best she could remember, how conception worked from the medical point of view. She always thought her mother was wasting her breath, for Katniss planned on never, ever having children, but reading how a baby is formed and how a woman’s body changes to accommodate it, made Katniss respect mothers a bit more, even if they were dumb enough to have more than one kid. Peeta’s face made her task easy, because his expression told her he was paying close attention and had no intention of making fun of her, thus, she kept going. Katniss, of course, skipped all of the sex part, focusing only on how a baby was formed inside the uterus, one of the few words she did remember.

“So, you’re saying that the males are the ones that carry the gender decision?”

“Yeah, our half is always the female side, and it’s up to guys to complete the other half with a female or male chromo-something.”

“That’s awesome,” Peeta honestly said.

“It’s not your fault that you were born a male, same as it isn’t any baby’s fault that they are born. It’s the parent’s fault; it’s ultimately their decision.” Which is why I’m never having kids, so as not to bring them into this life of poverty.

Katniss suddenly looked around and saw that they were a few feet away from her house.

How had that happened!?

“Um…”

“This is from my dad.” He took a small package from his pocket. Katniss looked at it as if it could contain nightlock. “They’re just some apple cookies, for Prim. He knows how much she loves these.”

“Why?”

“Because he knows you helped me and wanted to say thank you. But knowing how closed off you are to gifts, he decided to go through your sister. There’s enough for her, your mother and you.”

Katniss scowled; she didn’t like owing people, that was it.

“Okay. For Prim.”

“For Prim. I need to go now, but it was nice talking to you. We should do it more often.”

“…yeah?”

“Yeah, I like you…r company, and your sister is sweet. I see you walking with Madge sometimes. I could join you girls.”

“Right, I, uh…”

“See you tomorrow, Katniss,” he said, with a blinding, perfect smile before turning around and leaving.

She went inside her house to find an eager Prim, who immediately asked her about her ‘date’ with Peeta. Katniss quickly shot down the notion, as it had definitely not been a date.

The cookies were given to both her mother and Prim at dinner time, which made Prim beam immensely at her and talk about doing something to thank Peeta for the gesture.

If this keeps up, we’ll be in an eternal ‘Thank you’ circle, Katniss thought to herself.

Later, that night, she went to look outside her window. The moon was full and high in the sky. Katniss couldn’t help but think about Peeta Mellark, wondering if he was safe from his mother’s clutches or if he was crying alone, a barricade in front of his bedroom door once more.

No use in thinking about him. I paid my debt. I said ‘Thank you,’ and he did, too. No reason for us to speak to each other again. His offer to walk with us and Madge was probably just his way of being polite.

Satisfied with her reasoning, Katniss Everdeen went to sleep.

1 year later…

“Are you insane!? There’s no way I’m going to be related to Seam trash, and least of all her!”

“Mother!”

Katniss knew this was a bad idea from Day One, but really, there was no way out of it now. Not when Peeta had made her fall in love with him with his tender smiles, loving eyes and caring gestures. She knew there was a reason why she had always steered clear of the boy with the bread. But here she was, sitting in the Mellark’s living room with him, telling his parents they wanted to get married.

“Why don’t we all calm down?” Harland tried to get things under control.

“You cannot tell me you’re okay with this? Why would he suddenly want to marry her?” And then his mother turned pale, staggering back and clutching her chest. “You got her pregnant, didn’t you?”

“What!? Of course not!” But it was too late, his mother was already raising her hand to slap him across the face. What she hadn’t expected was the swift and quiet intervention of Katniss, who deftly caught her wrist in midair with all the force she could muster.

“Do not touch him. Don’t you ever touch him again,” she slowly grumbled with one of her scariest glares.

“Wha- What are you doing? Let go of me!”

“Not so brave now against someone who stands up to you, huh?” Katniss roughly pushed her hand away. “This ends now. You will never hit him again, not while I’m around.” Peeta’s mother was spluttering, trying to find something to say, but it seemed words had escaped her. “The only reason we’re here is out of Peeta’s respect for his parents, which, quite frankly, I don’t understand. How you can call yourself a mother after abusing your own child for all these years is something I’ll never wrap my head around.” Katniss then directed her gaze at Harland, who was ashamedly looking down at the floor. She knew he had never laid a hand on him, but allowing his wife to do it was almost as bad.

“You’re nothing but a Seam whore! He’ll get his fill of you and then toss you aside!”

“That’s what you told yourself when your husband was dating my mother?”

Peetas’ mother’s face turned as red as a tomato at the mention of this. “And it was true! As soon as he-”

“No. My mother fell in love with my father, and she decided to leave. She left her family, her friends, her merchant right; she gave it all up, and you can paint whatever story you want in your head, but deep down you know that’s the truth. If my father hadn’t appeared, you would’ve never gotten Harland Mellark.”

The silence that fell upon the group in the living room was deafening. Katniss could hear every creak in the air and just how hard the woman before her was breathing.

“Call me whatever you want, I don’t care. I love Peeta, and we’re getting married and we don’t need your permission. We’ll both be adults in a few months, anyway.”

“Then you’re no longer my son,” she claimed with a shaking finger pointing at Peeta. “You’re no longer welcome in my house.”

“Actually, this is my house.” This was the first time Katniss had heard Harland speak as harshly as he was. “And the bakery will eventually go to Peeta, anyway. We’ve already discussed a way to separate the house areas from the bakery rooms.”

“You’re giving him the bakery!?”

“I said ‘eventually.’ Bran is married; Rye has no interest in baking, and it’s because of Peeta that we’re still in business. He does almost all the baking and frosting for the most expensive commissions. It’s clear he should inherit the business.”

“See?” Katniss spoke again. “If I were you, I would be kinder to Peeta, seeing as he will be the one bringing in the largest part of the money. Because if it was up to me, I wouldn’t give you a single cent.”

“You ungrateful bitch. Let’s see how high and mighty you are after I tell the Peacekeepers about your secret trips outside the fence.”

“Mother, stop it! That’s enough.” Peeta went to defend Katniss, but she held him back again.

“That’s the best you got? Seam trash, whore, bitch, slut…I’ve heard it all, and from your mouth, it matters even less than usual.” Katniss took a step forward, and both men in the room did the same, Harland toward his wife and Peeta toward his future wife. “You will not mess around with Peeta ever again.” She took Peeta’s hand and started walking away, but then she remembered something important. “Oh, and rest assured, I’m not pregnant, but when we decide to have children, you won’t be allowed to come near them. I will make sure of it. Try me on this, and I will kill you. Also, if you’re going to the Peacekeepers, be sure to stay home at all times, because I’m a very patient huntress, and I know how to get my prey through the eye. Every.fucking.time.”

To see her paling once more made Katniss smirk before pulling Peeta along with her again.

They finally left the bakery, but this time, she didn’t let go of his hand.

“Um…is this okay?” Peeta asked. They hadn’t told anyone about their relationship, except for Madge, Gale, and Prim.

“We’re going to get married, right? This shouldn’t matter much.” Pissed-off Katniss was one of Peeta’s favorite Katnisses.

“Whatever you say,” he replied with a smile, and Katniss rolled her eyes.

“If she tries to lay even a finger on you when you go back-”

“I don’t think that’d be possible, after your ‘I get my prey through the eye’ threat, I’m pretty sure she’s scared shitless.”

“Good, because that wasn’t a threat, it was a promise.”

Peeta knew how much it angered Katniss that he never tried to defend himself against his mother’s attacks, but as much of a monster as she was, that woman was still his mother. He was simply happy that the girl of his dreams was such a fierce huntress, willing to protect him.

“So, what now?” he asked as they walked around, attracting gasps, looks and whispers wherever they went.

“Now, I guess we go to my house. Or, we could see if Gale has some…information.”

For a couple of months now, there had been some secret meetings happening. People speaking about standing up to the Capitol’s dictatorship ways, reclaiming the roads to once again communicate between districts and such. Katniss had been totally against it at first, but after learning her father had been part of the first group that had tried this, she was all in. Peeta, of course, would go wherever she went.

“Sure, we could ask.” They walked in silence for a while until Peeta brought up something she had hoped he didn’t remember. “So…you want children?”

“No.” She immediately answered. “I don’t know. Not for at least ten years.” Peeta beamed at this information because his girlfriend, now fianceé, had always been against children talk for as long as he knew her.

“I think ten years is great. I get you all to myself for a decade; I’m not against that.”

Katniss rolled her eyes at him. “You’re so lucky I love you, Mellark.”

“Yes. Yes I am,” he answered, with one of his blinding, beautiful smiles.

#everlark #everlark fanfiction #autumn #autumn 2020 #submission #evestedic

112 notes · View notes

aspiringauthorintraining · 3 years

Text

Volleyball Actually: Scene 2

It was a cold, dreary day outside, which meant for you it was a perfect day to eat a freshly-made warm onigiri from Miya’s Onigiri. But really, everyday was a perfect day to eat at Miya’s Onigiri. And it seemed like the rest of Japan had the same idea as you, seeing the long line of customers when you walked in.

You made your way up the front of the line soon enough with the queue moving fairly quickly. When you reached the register, the girl recognized you as you took your mask off to order. And before you could even speak, she asked if you wanted your usual, to which you nodded happily. It wasn’t the first time this happened, although it was with a different worker. But with how much you visited the restaurant, you weren’t surprised the employees remembered your face.

Holding onto your receipt with the order number, you walked over to sit down in an empty corner of the store to wait for your food. Sitting down on one of the stools, you checked your phone to see multiple text notifications. There was one from Kiyoko, wanting to make sure you were coming to the big match next week, one from Kageyama confirming your visit his team again later in the week, and some from your manager about an upcoming schedule.

A tap on your shoulder made you jump up from your seat.

“How’s my favorite customer doing?”

“’Samu!” You greeted him with a hug, surprised by his sudden appearance.

Your friendship with Osamu had started out as a purely business relationship- customer and restaurant owner relationship to be exact. You had just moved into the city and went to the newly opened Miya Onigiri’s flagship restaurant for lunch, after seeing all the good reviews. After noticing you coming in frequently, he stroked up a conversation with you while waiting for your food one day, and the rest was history.

“What are you doing here? You said you’d be busy this week with finalizing the opening of your new restaurant in Miyagi.”

He took a seat in the empty stool next to you. “I had to stop by today to check on the store’s inventory. And I heard you visited the team yesterday. How’d it go?”

“Great! Your onigiris were a hit with the team by the way. Thanks for the suggestion.” You shot him a thankful smile, before remembering what Hinata had texted you shortly after your visit. “Why didn’t you tell me your twin brother was also on the team?”

Osamu burst out laughing at your accusing question, putting his arms up in mock surrender when you frowned at his reaction. “‘Tsumu always needs to be knocked down a peg or two, and having a pretty girl not know who he is would have crushed his ego.”

You had thought it was a strange that there was someone with the Miya surname on the team, when looking up how many players were in the MSBY Black Jackals team. But when you had brainstormed ideas with Osamu on what food to to bring on your visit, and he didn’t mention anything, you thought it had just been a coincidence.

“Also, last week that bastard said my onigiri was salty, so he deserved it.”

“Have either of you matured at all from high school?” You deadpanned.

“I have, but he dumbs me down.” Osamu shrugged.

You shook your head with a sigh, not being able to imagine what it would be like to put up with two Miyas, when one was already draining your energy. Bless the Miya matriarch.

“You know you could have just looked it up on the internet to find out.” he added.

“I wasn’t really that curious to investigate. And unlucky for you, he wasn’t even there when I went to visit anyways.” You looked to the front thinking you had heard your order number being called out.

“Well, let me know if you go visit them again. I’ll make him pay for the food next time. But you know, I am surprised you and the shorty are so close after all these years.” Osamu changed the subject, referring to your relationship with Hinata. “You weren’t even in the same year.”

You breathed a happy sigh, thinking back to your time at Karasuno. “The team, when I was in my third year, was really special. With everything we went through that year, it felt like we were one big tight-knit family. So I try to keep in touch with everybody and visit them whenever I can. And it helps that we have a big group chat with everyone that was on the team, making it a bit easier.” You smiled, thinking back to the last time you all got together- it being the Tanakas’ wedding. But even then, not everyone was able to make it due to their busy lives. “But I guess I do dote more on the first-years though. Even more so with Shoyo as of late, since he had gone to Brazil right after graduation.”

Having heard one of his workers call him over, Osamu got up as soon as you finished talking, heading over to the counter. You watched as he grabbed the bag handed to him, walking back over to you before placing the said bag in your hands.

“I told them to add an extra onigiri in there.” He informed you, sitting back down.

“Is this what it feels like to be a valued customer?” you asked, placing your hand over your heart in a dramatic fashion. “Did you know I didn’t even have to tell them my order up at the front? She knew what my usual was as soon as she saw my face.”

He smirked in response. “I think that’s rather a testament to how much you come here.”

“You say it like it’s a bad thing.”

“With how often you come here and the amount you order when you do, I can’t help but be worried about the health of my favorite customer. I want you to live a long life ordering my onigiri, not have it be the cause of your death.”

You shrugged, brushing off his comment. “It’s healthier than other fast food options, since it doesn’t have any msg- which is good enough for me.” You looked over at the crowd of customers that had just walked in, seeing the restaurant having become even more busier than when you first came in. “I should let you get back to work.”

You got up from your seat, collecting your things after putting back on your face mask. Osamu watched you get ready to leave from his seat, when a sudden thought occurred to him.

“Oh yeah. I’ve been meaning to ask you something.” You paused your movement, waiting for him to continue. “How would you feel being the face of Miya’s Onigiri?”

“Eh?!” You reacted like he had just told you Atsumu was actually just him in a blonde wig. “Me?”

“I told you about the new location we were opening in Miyagi, yeah?” Seeing you nod, he continued explaining. “Well, I’ve been thinking about doing a celebrity endorsement, and I thought of you since you’re from the prefecture.”

You still weren’t understanding why he would ask you of all people. “Why me though?”

“Didn’t you say you were a singer?”

“Singer? Sure. Celebrity? Not really.”

“C’mon. It’s not like we’re a super famous company either. Think of it as beneficial opportunity for the both of us.”

“I feel like it’s more beneficial on my end than yours, though.” You frowned.

Osamu brushed off your worry. “I’d much rather work with someone who I know and trust than a random person anyways.”

Knowing it was a good opportunity for publicity, you sighed, relenting. “Well, If you’re okay with it, then I guess I am too. But,” you raised your finger, “I’ll only accept onigiri as payment. I’ll feel bad if the advertisement doesn’t help bring in any customers.” Osamu tried to argue, but you just ignored him. “I’ll give my manager your number so that y’all can work out the scheduling.”

And without giving him a chance to negotiate the deal, you waved him goodbye, scurrying out the door.

Director’s Cut: Scene 2 Part 1

“Hey, Tobio!”

“Hai, Hoshiumi-san.” Kageyama looked at his teammate, in the middle of changing into his practice clothes.

“Did you see this?” Hoshiumi showed the Adler’s setter Hinata’s picture posted the night before. “We have to be careful, Tobio. These guys might steal (Y/N) away from us! That’ll mean no more visits, no more delicious bentos, or sitting on our side of the court during matches. And worst of all, no more good luck hugs!”

Hoshiumi started to pace back and forth around the locker room.

“Senpai said she will come visit us the day after tomorrow.” Kageyama replied with a straight face, resuming his changing.

“Who’s coming tomorrow?” The Schweiden Adler’s captain, Hirugami Fukuro, asked the two younger players, walking into the locker room.

“Captain!” Seeing his captain brought an idea to the Little Giant. “Can you convince Sachiro to come tomorrow with his dog? She likes dogs, right?”

Kageyama nodded in response.

“(Y/N)-senpai said she’ll visit on Thursday.” Kageyama answered the confused Hirugami.

“Oh, Sachiro will definitely want to come then. He wasn’t able to come because of a midterm last time she came to visit.” Hirugami replied.

“Who’s coming to visit?” Ushijima asked, having come back from the bathroom. He wiped his wet hands with a handkerchief, folding the wet part inwards before putting it away in his pocket.

“(Y/N)-senpai.”

“I see.” The wing spiker nodded in understanding. “I will bring some of my tomatoes tomorrow. She mentioned she wanted to try some of them last time we talked.”

“Tomatoes? The Black Jackals can give her tomatoes too! We need something that’ll convince her to stay with us.”

“My tomatoes are of high quality. The MSBY Black Jackals will not be able to find fruit with similar quality and grade easily.” Ushijima responded in confidence.

“That’s true. (Y/N)-senpai seemed very interested when Ushijima-san mentioned his gardening to her.” Kageyama confirmed, agreeing with the ace.

“Maybe I should bring some seeds for her as well?” Ushijima asked. “You should ask her if she has fertile soil to support good seedlings.”

Hoshiumi had already left the locker room, realizing the conversation was going nowhere.

The Karasuno alumni gave him a nod, making a mental note to text his senpai after practice.

Director’s Cut: Scene 2 Part 2

You had a busy schedule the following morning, so you prepared to sleep a bit earlier than usual. Right as you were about to fall asleep, your phone pinged loudly, waking you up. Drowsily, you grabbed your phone to check who had texted you.

Reading the text, you blinked in confusion, rubbing your eyes to see if you had read the message correctly.

Received 9:10 p.m.

From: Karasuno #9

Message: Senpai, do you have good dirt?

______

(A/N): Hoped you like Part 2! Leave a like, comment, or do whatever ^^

#haikyuu!!#Haikyu!!#haikyū!!#haikyuu x you #msby black jackals imagine #msby black jackals x you #schweiden adlers x you #schweiden adlers imagine #schweiden adlers x reader #no beta we die like daichi lol

64 notes · View notes

writingfromasgard · 3 years

Text

A Professional Donation [3]

[Ch1] || [Ch2] || [ML] || [Taglist]

Information swirled like shooting stars in Cora’s mind. The first meeting with Ivar Lothbrok held so many questions in her mind about what he needed. He stated outright he did not need a girlfriend type, not arm candy either. Her tongue wanted to say a wife type, someone irreplaceable. She hadn’t seen any signs of sexual desire from him either. Did that mean the menu was strictly platonic? Cora wouldn’t complain if that were the case. She shifted in her bed, turning on her left side. She reached for her phone, illuminating the screen to check the time. It burned 1:32 AM into her eyes. She placed it face down again and sat up, leaning against the headboard. She debated on going to her couch, where she seemed to sleep the best at.

“Fuck it.” She muttered to herself.

With a quick toss of her thick, heavy blanket to the other side of the bed, she slipped out of bed. The couch welcomed her, pulling her into the soft cushions. She grabbed the remote, pressing the buttons until Peacock TV loaded on the screen. She browsed through the available shows until she came across an old favorite, one she had watched over and over. Murder, She Wrote had become one of her favorites. She had seen most episodes ten times by now, but the cheesy effects and laughter never seemed to get old. Jessica Fletcher, a widow turned author, traveled around and stumbled into murders that needed solving. As the familiar theme song played, Cora settled into the couch.

This episode seemed to be about a wise-guy found dead in a locked room. Of course, Jessica met a friend who went to see her ex-husband, and he winded up dead. “I bet the ex-wife totally did it,” Cora mumbled, pulling down her throw blanket over her. She wormed her way into a comfortable laying position to watch the drama unfold on the screen. It was only after the bad guy, a detective who was recently transferred, that Cora started to feel the weight of sleep on her eyelids.

She groaned, trying to block out the bright sunlight that poured in from the window. Another scene of Jessica catching an utterly different cast played across the screen. “I can always rely on you, J.B.” Cora stretched and struggled to her feet. She switched on the Live TV and listened to the only other channel she enjoyed — the news. An essential part of her job was keeping up-to-date with events going on in the entire world. Without much thought, she tossed the remote onto the couch and took a step toward the kitchen. She turned back around and moved the remote to the coffee table — not trusting the couch to not suck the remote into the depths of a dimensional portal. She had lost too many remotes that way and had yet to find any of them in the couch.

Cora pulled open the fridge and went for a sickly looking green shake. She poured the contents into a glass, adding a straw. Setting down the drink on the coffee table, using a coaster to keep from damaging the wood. Making her way back into her bedroom, she moved her side table. The vent behind it came out quickly, and she scooped up the contents — her work phone, charger, and planner. She doubted she would need to charge her phone, but in the event she did, she wouldn't have to make a second trip back to the room.

She sat down on the couch, powering on her phone. As it loaded, she grabbed her shake and started trying to drink as much as possible. Pleased that her phone still held more than 50% battery, she let the text messages roll in on her phone while she watch the news review yesterday’s headlines, adding new details to stories she had already heard. Her mind jumped back to last night’s events again, analyzing the goodbye Ivar left her with.

“I hope to see you again, Cora.” He said, standing from the table. She could see his jaw strain in pain as he waited for her to stand. His hand held out, waiting for her to place hers in it. She did so immediately, letting him kiss the back of her hand. “Do we need to discuss the terms or… ?”

“You can send them to Yevette, Ivar. I don’t see any reason why we can’t do business.” Even in wincing, he managed a charming smile.

Conversation with Ivar drifted from the restaurant to his hobbies. He revealed little about himself unless she asked questions. His future plans were intense, to say the least. His mother wanted him to take over the company while his father sounded like he was placating him. Cora kept that opinion to herself, not wanting to upset him. She felt inadequate compared to him despite only being four days younger than him. She hadn’t even finished college, and her work was looked down upon by everyone in the world. He had been a perfect gentleman, mostly. There were times where he seemed… harsh. She supposed it could be chocked up to nerves.

Cora drank up the rest shake and heard the ding-ding-ding-ding of multiple messages flowing in. She picked them up and choked on the shake left in her mouth. Her eyes balked at the text messages she had received from Yevette.

Yevette: You must have had a good night. He sent the contract! Yevette: Cora, call me ASAP! Yevette: Are you up yet? It's IMPORTANT! Yevette: Do you still want to fill the other two spots?

She dialed the number immediately, hoping Yevette would not be too angry. It was only 7:30 AM, an hour later than the time she was usually up. The phone rang multiple times until Yevette, sounding out of breath, answered the phone. “Cora! CORA! You absolute darling.” The sugar was being laid on thick today, so that was a good sign.

“Yevette, I apologize. I stayed up doing research.” She lied, not wanting to admit to the truth.

“Don’t worry about that. I got the contract. Standard nondisclosure agreement; you can’t talk about what you do behind closed doors. If you do, you forfeit the remaining time in the contract. That isn’t what I’m so HAPPY about.” Cora could make out the sounds of clacking keyboards on Yevette’s end. “The parties agree to no more than two days a week as a standard meeting period… places to be chosen by either party at times acceptable to both parties… payment is due day-of meeting of an amount equal to the sum of 300 per hour needed. 300! PER HOUR!”

Cora’s mouth went dry. That was triple her average amount. The going rate per hour was 130 — if they wanted sex. “Did you contact him to see if it was a mistake? I mean, there is no way he would p—” Yevette cut her off with a hysterical laugh.

“Yes! I even told him your rates, and he demanded he pay 300 per hour except during calls. I don’t know what number you did on him, but he was adamant that all of the contract had been approved by him already. Cora, with these prices, you won’t need to take on the other clients if you don’t want to. I know we discussed that, but the contract came with a schedule as well. You are going to be with him a minimum of 3 hours each meeting.”

Cora’s mind felt frayed already. “Bu-H- I didn’t do anything but talk with him.” Yevette continued rattling off exciting sections of the contract to her. Had she made such an impression on Ivar that he was willing to go the extra mile? Or was this a sign of how urgently he wanted it to be her? Gods, she wished she could ask Bucky about him. He had to have some insight into Ivar given the recommendation, right? After an hour on the phone with Yevette, the contract was sent to Cora, but she signed it without looking over it — believing that whatever things she was adverse to were outweighed heavily by the number of perks included.

She was required to attend all events unless unable to due to personal reasons. Her favorite perk: vacations. He specifically put in that she was to participate in one vacation with him at a destination ‘that both parties agree upon.’ Instead of dawdling over the knight in shining armor, she’d managed to hook; she went to work on filling out her booklet with his events. The schedule began next week and included one public dinner, a gallery opening, and a home meal. Each had a different amount of hours: 3, 6, 5.

She could hardly see a downside yet but knew that it would come. The mask that hadn’t been crafted for him would wear her down just as the others had. It was only a matter of time. After she penciled in all of the times, she checked her phone for any other messages or missed calls.

A single text from Ivar’s number eluding to the one request she was wary of: Do you want to call tomorrow?

She had never had a client request a phone call with her. It had been in the contract. A phone call the length of 2 hours to be divided up when needed. The rate was lower than the in-person meetings, as expected. Perhaps it was only for appearance sakes. She typed out her reply, a carefully worded offer for a Friday call instead. She included a brief explanation — an appointment she had weeks before she’d considered any other clients.

She couldn’t provide too much detail as to the real purpose of the appointment. Her first long-term client had booked her for the entire night. A night like these meant she needed a day to separate who she was from the mask she wore for them: Miss Swoden, or Laila as she preferred to be called.

Laila’s needs were more complicated than Bucky’s. Stress relief, friendship, therapist, and even domme at times. Her appointments were few, but the length of them meant an excellent paycheck for Cora. That’s how she managed to live only on Bucky and Laila’s appointments. It was the lack of Bucky’s appointments that caused her to need another three clients.

Cora picked up her secondary phone and pressed the call button. She had hoped this would be a short call as a blaring “Breaking news!” flashed across the television screen. The phone continued to ring until the voicemail kicked in. As expected, Cora thought. Laila was never good at answering the phone or remembering to text back.

“Good Morning, Miss Swoden. I’m contacting you in regards to the meeting you had set up. It appears that we did not get your confirmation prior to today. Give me a call back when you are able.” With that, she hung up, and she plopped down on her couch.

The breaking news story was one of interest to her. An explosion that rocked the ports of Kattegat’s northern coast. She whistled to herself as an overview from a drone provided a live feed from above. Crumpled cargo containers laid open or crushed under one another with smoke pouring out from several different spots. “It is not yet known what caused the explosion or if anyone was harmed during it. Floki Vilgerdarson, the owner of this port, will be making a statement within the hour.”

Vilgerdarson? Cora squinted at the photo that popped up in the upper corner of the feed. “We are getting an update right now from KPD. It appears that there were multiple explosions that have damaged several areas of the docks. As you can see from the footage, we are now showing you the secondary blast site.” Cora grabbed her laptop off the coffee table, powering it on to search for Vilgerdarson.

The picture looked familiar to her. A news article that she read in the past, maybe? Before she even attempted to butcher the spelling of the name, her secondary phone rang. She picked it up, answering without looking at the ID. “This is Cora. How can I help you?” She winced at the cheery, customer service voice that came out.

“Cora! I’m sorry I missed your call. I wanted to confirm that we’re on tonight. Make sure you dress formally and bring a change of clothing — pajamas too!” Laila’s perky voice ripped Cora’s eyes away from the TV. “We have a guest dinner, followed by a relaxing massage tonight.” Stress relief was on the menu then.

“Thank you for giving me a call back so promptly. Do you have any requests? A specific color or look?” Cora asked, nibbling on her bottom lip. She had a few outfits in mind already. Laila enjoyed blues and purples; a flowing dark purple dress was her favorite because of the dip that revealed most of her back. Another lilac was much more modest, adhering loosely to Cora’s curves and stopping just short of her calves.

“Surprise me. You know what I like to see. The meeting is starting back up, sweetheart. I’ll talk to you tonight. Kisses!” With a lip smack, the call ended, and Cora let out a light laugh. Laila could be the most interesting, lonely person Cora knows. Moving her attention back to the news, she watched as the drone hovered over a third blast site.

“Maybe someone was pissed their Wish item didn’t show up.” She joked, turning off the TV. She let her shoulders drop, relaxing in the silence in her place. A ding signaled a text message to her working phone, and she glanced down at the screen. Talk to you Friday. The curt reply made her wonder if he was upset, but she waved off the notion. She and Ivar hardly knew each other. It was likely he was busy with whatever up-and-coming businessmen did.

Dragging a hand through her hair, she let out an exhale to calm herself. Cora’s schedule for today was open aside from the dinner that would be at 6:00 PM. She would need to arrive early to make sure the outfit she chose was approved by Laila and bring an extra as a backup. Not to mention the need for pajamas — or lingerie if Laila wanted something.

She let her eyes close, a million thoughts rushing through her mind. “Surprise me, she says,” Cora muttered, leaving the comfort of her couch for the closet in her room. She dreaded the dinner party, knowing that she would be engaged in boring talks about mundane topics she held no real interest in. Her fingers roamed across her closet until she pulled out a palatinate purple dress followed by a pastel blue one.

She ran her fingers over the material before deciding to try them both on. She twirled in the mirror for each, putting back the pastel dress. Selecting another shade of blue, she repeated this several times until she had narrowed down her options to two: a patriarch colored dress that was floor length with a high neck and a Prussian blue that was cut below her knees with a Grecian neckline.

Cora favored the blue one, the neckline her favorite. She grabbed plain black heels that would match both and threw a pair of thigh-high hose on the bed. A pang of hunger drove straight through her by the time she was done. She grabbed her phone and saw two missed alarms for a shake. She sucked in a breath, making her way back to the kitchen. Taking note of the time, she realized she had a small window of time before she would need to get ready for Laila.

Her eyes drifted back to the TV, deciding she had time for three episodes of Murder, She Wrote.

-Taglist

@naaladareia @laketaj24 @daughterofthenight117 @equalstrashflavoredtrash

@whenimaunicorn @titty-teetee @ivarinleatherpants @generic-fangirl @sawendel @tephi101 @alicedopey @microsmacrosandneedles @peachyboneless @heavenly1927 @youbloodymadgenius

#ivar lothbrok #ivar ragnarsson #ivar fanfiction #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless #slow burn series #ivars heathen army #ragnarssons #flokis here too #cora x ivar #ivar x cora #a professional donation #callgirl au #vikings #vikings fanfiction #very proud of myself

44 notes · View notes

nastasyafilippovnas · 3 years

Note

santhony + “No one will ever compare to you.”

better late than never, right? lol

santhony + no one will ever compare to you, pre-canon, 1.5k (ao3)

It was two in the morning and the couple on the apartment upstairs was arguing again. From his place in bed, seating with his back against the headboard, Anthony could hear their shouts loud and clear through the thin material of the ceiling. Next to him, Siena slept soundly, unbothered by the confusion. Since they had started seeing each other three months ago, it had always been like this. She had told him she learnt early on to get her rest whenever she could, because you never knew when a rehearsal would run late. Before her, Anthony had never thought how much work went into becoming an opera singer, now it seemed like every moment she wasn’t with him, Siena was either rehearsing or performing. Her hair was sprawled on next to him and he played mindless with it, his father’s watch on his other hand. Soon he would have to leave her. He wanted nothing more than lay down and curl next to her, enjoying the few hours they had left together.

Unlike her, though, he had always had trouble falling asleep. There was always so much going on, problems with the state, Daphne’s dowry to secure for her season next year, it felt like his brain could hardly shut down. And when he did manage to close his eyes, even then the smallest of noises would wake him up. Needless to say, he never got much sleep whenever he spent the night at her place.

The apartment itself wasn’t that bad. Anthony had seen the awful conditions in which the lower classes lived, among the filth, sewage and rats infesting their houses. Her place, despite being terribly small, was at least clean and in a decent neighborhood. Unfortunately, in order to pay the rent, she had to share it with four other singers and there were only two bedrooms. That meant that, whenever one of them was entertaining a male companion, at least one of them had to sleep on the threadbare couch on the living room. Tonight was Lisa’s turn, if he was not mistaken. And then tomorrow or the day after it would be Siena’s turn to spend the night on the couch as Lisa had her gentleman over. Anthony frowned at that thought. Her bed was already uncomfortable, the mattress too hard and thin. He didn’t like imagining her on that couch, on the cold living room, sleeping without any of the comforts he was so used to having every night.

A loud bang echoed through the room, indicating that one of the members of the couple upstairs had finally had enough and had decided to leave, taking his frustrations on the door. Instead of just leaving, however, the man continued the discussion outside and woke up the entire floor above them.

Anthony sighed in frustration. That was the last straw. They couldn’t continue like this.

“Siena…” He shook her shoulder lightly to get her to wake up.

“Anth…” She woke up fully before finishing his name, leaving Anthony disappointed. He had already told her she could call him by his first time and yet she insisted on keeping the formalities between them. “My lord, is everything okay? Are you leaving already?” Siena asked, glancing at the open window for a moment, to confirm that it was still dark outside. She wasn’t a clingy person, but she still felt like her time with Anthony was always cut short. It worried her sometimes she was getting too attached to something that would end, sooner rather than later.

It wasn’t hard to figure out what was going through her mind, Anthony thought. He had promised he would stay the night. And he had wanted to. Nothing gave him more pleasure than the smile on her face when she woke up and realized he was still there, wrapped around her. He had thought they could even have breakfast together. Staying with her wasn’t the problem.

Her annoyingly loud neighbors who were the problem. That and the threadbare couch. And the shared bedrooms. And the twin-sized bed with the thin mattress. And the one communal bathroom down the hall, now that he thought about it. This whole place was the problem. Siena couldn’t continue to live like this.

“You need to move.” He said, instead of answering her questions.

She laughed at him, seating up next to him. It was cute how he thought she could just up and leave because her neighbors kept him awake at night. The rich were really something else.

“Do you know how hard it was to get this place with this price? Lisa had to seduce the landlord. I know you hate all the noise but it’s not that bad really.”

Just to contradict her, another loud sound came from upstairs and Anthony could swear he heard the ceiling cracking under the weight of whatever they had thrown around.

He raised his eyebrows at her and she could feel herself flushing under his stare. It wasn’t fair. He didn’t understand how this was an improvement.

“So they get loud, who doesn’t sometimes? We certainly did too last night, my lord.” He was about to protest, but she continued, “Maybe once I start getting cast as lead, I can get my own place. Mr. Piazzi told me he would pay me more once that happens.”

“Siena…” Anthony turned around, caressing her face and trying to get her to relax. He hadn’t wanted to make her upset. “You don’t have to worry about the money. I can get you a better place. A nice house in a good neighborhood, some servants…I could give you some money for expenses too. You don’t have to live like this.”

Siena had had an arrangement with an older gentleman before Anthony, just as she had started at the opera. She wasn’t ashamed of it, she would’ve never survived in London otherwise. But her and Anthony had never discussed payment before. Oh, he had given her stuff, a new dress, some pretty expensive earrings, a necklace once. It was standard practice. Siena wasn’t stupid to not know what it all meant. He had been showing his appreciation for her services. And yet, for a moment, she had forgotten who they were. She had let herself pretend they were just two people who liked each other.

“And what am I supposed to do in exchange of that, my lord? Sit around and wait for you the whole day? Open my legs whenever you want?” She couldn’t hide the anger in her voice. She hated Anthony at that moment for reminding her what she was and what she would always be for a man like him. Just another convenient whore.

“No, of course not! You…you can do whatever you want. You are still going to be who you are.” Anthony paused, his hands going through his hair in frustration. “This is not coming out like I wanted it to.”

“Try again, my lord. How did you want it to come out?” The words were still biting, but less so.

Anthony looked down, and Siena noticed he was turning around the watch in his hand.

“I don’t know how to do this right. I’ve never been in a relationship before.” He had been with other women, of course, but none had lasted as long as what he and Siena had. And none that he wanted to last for a lot longer. “I just…I thought about you spending the night in that sorry excuse for a couch in the cold living room and I wanted to do something about. There’s no reason for you to live in these conditions when I can give you something better.”

Siena bit her lip. He was still staring down at the watch and she moved closer, until she was seating in his lap. She took the watch from his hands and carefully placed it on the bedside table.

Anthony finally looked her in the eye.

“I want to take care of you.” He said simply.

She could hear the honesty in his words and see it in his eyes. Her left hand went up to his hair, caressing it softly, while the right one settled on his bare chest, above his heart.

“What happens when you grow tire of me?” Anthony opened his mouth, but she quickly put a finger on top of it to stop him. “Or when you finally marry someone?”

He kissed the finger still on top of his mouth. “If I may speak now…” Siena removed her hand from his mouth. “I think you’re forgetting a couple of things.” He said, his hand going around her waist and bringing her closer to him.

“What?”

“I have three brothers, two of them already old enough to have children, so I don’t have to get married. And…” He caressed her chin and brought her closer for a slow kiss. Before Siena could deepen it, he pulled apart. “Why would I marry? No one will ever compare to you.”

He saw her smile for a moment before kissing him hard in the mouth and he knew it meant she had accepted his proposal.

“I can’t wait until I have you on a proper bed.” He said between the kisses.

“Shut up before I change my mind.”

#summerof45 #answered asks #bridgerton #anthony x siena #santhony #anthony bridgerton #siena rosso #my fics #long post for ts

12 notes · View notes

onyourzeus · 3 years

Text

raining | kyh

ykcyj ➝ arskyh

title: raining pairing: kang younghyun (youngk of day6) & you genre: fluff, fictional universe words: 4.4k

was listening to this playlist while writing. author’s note: overwhelmingly cliche, like kdrama levels of it. be forewarned. i am in my youngk feelings tonight, folks. i just wanted to write something sickeningly cute & i think i achieved it lol. do enjoy, regardless.

any requests? check my pinned post if i’m accepting any at the moment, thanks!

The moment you step outside the door, you immediately regret it. You were never one to love the cold, you actually welcome it— but when signs of heavy rain are bound to happen within the hour or so it’s not advisable for anyone to enjoy a walk outside.

You pull on the ends of your sweaters even more, keeping the tips of your fingers enclosed in the warmth of the fabric. A slight yet wintry breeze whispers against your ear and you shiver involuntarily. It was a win-win situation to cover your head with the hoodie as your hair had seen better days before, and it keeps you extra protected from the cold.

The convenience store was a mere ten to fifteen walk from your street, it shouldn’t be a big deal. So here you are, shuddering in house clothes, trudging your way to the nearest mart to snag yourself a cup of noodles or two, and maybe buy a drink to keep you toasty on the way back.

Hands tucked in between your sides, you briskly make your way to your destination. At eight in the evening on a weeknight, there seems to be a couple of people enjoying a chilly stroll outside.

Well, the only difference is that they’re all dressed for the occasion: thick coats, thicker scarves, and an overwhelming sense of excitement for this weather.

“They better go home soon before it starts to rain,” you mumble under your breath, costing a fog to escape in front of you. It looks nice, though, that they have one or another person accompanying them tonight. Some with hands held tight and others just comfortably walking side by side.

The sudden chattering of your teeth makes you question your bitter sentiment. You decide not to think about it any further as you approach the blinding lights of the convenience store.

Pushing the door open with some elbow grease (they really need to replace that), you’re welcomed with a whiff of plastic packaged items, coffee brewing on the side, and the silent hum of cash registers at the front.

You’re starting to feel the heat of the inside replace your slight shivering, but you ought to keep the hood on and make the trip as fast as possible.

Walking towards the ramen aisle, your eyes widen at the sheer possibilities of microwavable meals you can have tonight: curry-flavored, spicy seafood, extra hot with three Xs, it’s shameful that you find these all so appealing.

Before your mouth waters embarrassingly, you grab three cups of your choice and cradle them in one hand securely. Moving over to the chilled section, you check the price of a small container of kimchi to see if you’re lucky enough to spice up your dinner for tonight.

Unfortunately, you don’t think it fits your budget, recalling that you just grabbed a couple of coins from the counter before leaving the apartment.

Somehow, while being preoccupied by the fact that you can’t have any kimchi, your head collides against someone’s back. In the most awkward encounter that can happen, cups of noodles drop on the floor. Your hoodie falls off your head, revealing the hair you’re trying to keep away from the public.

With heated cheeks, you apologize profusely to this person’s back, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I wasn’t looking!” You don’t even wait for them to turn around as you quickly bend down and grab your items.

He picks them up before you do.

You get a glimpse of him in the seconds he’s bent down; his hair parted in the middle with a little curl to them, roots are dark brown but everything else of a faded grey, his thick brown coat nicely shaping his shoulders, and as he slowly stand upright you have a clear view of a black turtleneck that hugs his neck perfectly, and his face—

“No worries, it happens,” he tells you casually, holding onto your dropped items. His eyes are slanted and yet you see gentleness in them. As he gives you a small smile, you notice his high cheekbones protruding from such graceful features.

The sudden warmth emanating from your thrift-store find sweater makes your face feel like it’s about to erupt from embarrassment. You scramble over to grab your cup of noodles from his grasp, grazing the skin on his hands. Even that sensation felt so soft for such a short period of interaction.

You do need to go out and see people more.

“T-thanks,” you manage to blurt out. From all the apparent staring you’ve done in the past minute or so, you find your eyes glued on the floor intensely.

“Excuse me…” you trail off almost inaudibly, but he gives you space in the aisle you’ve collided so you can stand in line for the register.

It felt like an eternity being face to face with him as people have formed a queue to pay already, but you will yourself not to look back. It was a… lucky accident?

If you can call it that— you still look like you haven’t unearthed yourself from your hermit cave for months. And him— well, to put it frankly, he just looked unreal to be sauntering his way at a local convenience store.

You shake your head, quickly pull up your hoodie once again and tighten the straps a little bit more forcefully this time.

It’s hard to hide the shame, but at least your hair will be out of sight again.

Impatiently, you tap your foot with the sound of the clock on the wall. Some problem of some kind with the scanner up front was causing the line to lag, and not to say so first-world problem-haver, but the less time you spend in here, the more time you can scream into your pillow back home.

A stretch of the neck, you look up, down, and side to side. On your left, your eyes catch something too familiar.

Something in the universe is clearly toying with you because as soon as you crane your head just a tad bit further, you find the same gorgeous man standing behind you. He’s looking somewhere else, eyes pointed in the distance and his lips pursed together in thought.

Why. Is He. So. Cute. Just standing there like that?

“Hi,” you see his lips move, voice low but friendly. “Your ramen alright there?”

“Me?” you squeak out. His eyes train themselves on you, and for a second he looks just as confused. But he comes back with a short laugh, and you feel like shrinking into dust.

But it doesn’t sound like he’s laughing at you, it wasn’t mean or said with a grimace at all.

He nods his head confirming your silly question and adds, “Yes, the ones you’re holding onto for dear life in there.”

“These?” you ask again, like a complete dysfunctional human machine. “Oh, um— yeah. They’re fine. Hahaha,” you reply and you sound nervous.

You shouldn’t be, he’s asking a legitimate question and you’re making it out to be like an interrogation! Snap out of it, reprimanding yourself in the head. This is not how you talk to people at all.

“Good.” He continues smiling at you, but his eyes shift elsewhere. Well, that’s probably your cue to stop this uncomfortable situation for yourself, and for his good as well.

But he’s still talking, and addressing you it seems.

“I think it’s your turn.”

“Hi, I can take your stuff right here, miss.”

“Yes, please! Thanks,” you hurry off to the front, out of breath and out of words left to speak.

There was no point to keep looking back, you’ve done your part acting the way you did. Maybe you should have just waited until tomorrow to get groceries, you would have benefitted from sleeping in earlier than showcasing how clumsy you can be to a complete stranger. (Not to mention someone your type.)

The employee speedily checks out your items and puts them in a paper bag. She asks if there was anything else you’d like, and you contemplate on the hot coffee that you wanted. You pull out the coins and one lone paper bill you had in your pockets to assess if it’s within your budget.

“Is this enough for what I got?” you lay out your change and then some on the counter. It may be your imagination, but it feels like the guy behind you is watching. You shift to the side slightly to hide the fact that you’re paying with coins.

She glances at your choice of payment, and says words that could literally be the cause of your death tonight. “I’m sorry, do you have an extra fifty cents? These would only pay for three of your cup noodles, miss.”

Robbed of one, already cheap choice of dinner tonight, her voice seemed to increase in volume revealing your insufficient amount of cash on hand to everyone in the store.

She watches as you blink your eyes tight, face squirming hard.

“It’s okay… I’ll just get those that I can pay for,” you respond meekly, and she nods. You don’t hear anything else anymore, maybe she was offering a coupon or whatever, you had one mission and one thing in mind only: get the hell out of there.

You take the paper bag, bow your head in thanks, and head out the door faster than you can realize that the rain had started pouring hard for what seemed like a few minutes prior.

Now your sweater is drenched, your paper bag is starting to crumble from the bottom, and you didn’t bring an umbrella.

Nor do you have any money or phone with you to call a cab to your apartment.

In an effort to keep some parts of you not wet, you keep to yourself just barely outside of the store where the roof is still hanging; just enough to cover half of your body from the pouring rain. It’s amazing, you think, what absolute god must you have angered for you to be stuck in something so stupid like this?

You can’t go back in the store, the guy is still there— suddenly you realize with a panic in your heart. He’ll see you here, right next to the door, waiting for the rain to stop once he exits out of the store.

Either way, he’ll recognize you, and to pity you or laugh at you secretly, it’s his choice now. It’s his right to, you wouldn’t care anymore.

Let the clown music reverberate in your ears, it’s an anthem you’d proudly sing amidst pouring rain.

With your thoughts seeming to come to life for the nth time, the door opens with an annoying chime, and as you look up it’s him, of course, it’s him.

But he’s not laughing nor does it look like he’s just going to avoid your sorry figure. He stands next to you, opens up his black umbrella at an arm’s reach and puts it over both your heads. His shoulders touch your wet sweater, and you’re inclined to move away but the umbrella can only cover a tiny area.

You hold in a breath, afraid when you exhale he’d see panic written all over your face.

“You okay?”

You nod, keeping your gaze forward, into the dim surroundings and the pitter patter of the night sky.

“Do you have any means of going home?” He asks again, and you’re sure he’s looking at you.

“I was planning on walking…” you finally quip, quiet and unsure of yourself. “Once the rain stops,” you let out a shaky breath. Frankly, you feel more stressed out than nervous at this point.

He doesn’t strike you as a man with malicious intent so far, and if he were to rob you right here right now, well — he should know, of all people in this store (aside from the cashier) that there’s nothing of value with you at the moment. You’re basically of no value as far as you can tell.

Sad.

“It doesn’t look like it’s stopping anytime soon,” he says, and you take a quick peek at him. He scans the surroundings, eyes focused and eyebrows knitted together. He looks back at you, and you’re frozen in place.

“Let me call a cab for you,” he tells you with concern.

“I wouldn’t want to be a bother,” you say frantically, dismissing him with one hand. The other was still holding the wet paper bag against your chest, and you feel it dampening your sweater each second that passes by. “I can just wait it out in the store.”

He continues to look at you as he pouts, and you stand there next to him feeling small. You appreciate his kindness, really, but you know a guy dressed like that has better places to be at and you’re here slowing him down.

“Honestly, it’s okay,” you try and ease his worries, but he doesn’t look convinced. “I live, like, fifteen minutes away. I have nothing else to do at home, so there’s no reason for me to be back so soon.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive,” you urge on, smiling at his politeness. “Besides, I don’t want to keep you here. I’m so sorry for the inconvenience.”

“Nonsense. It should be the rain apologizing to us,” he says with a tsk.

You can’t help but giggle at his silly remark. He’s handling this stress-free while you haven’t stopped sweating since he stood beside you with the umbrella.

“How about this, I give you my umbrella—” you start to protest but he puts a finger up, coaxing you to bite your lip to keep it shut. “— so that you can walk home without getting rained on too much, and I’ll call myself a cab.”

It was a tempting offer, but not quite reasonable to you yet.

It’s the generosity he’s offering which shouldn’t be too much of a surprise, in fact, you should feel relieved. But your guard is still up, even if the rain isn’t letting up itself anytime soon.

If you keep declining him, who knows how much more patience he has to appease your feigning grandiose modesty?

“I’d pay for your cab if I had money with me right now,” you admit shyly. “Unless you’re comfortable with an online transfer, I’d have to know your information...” It was a stretch because maybe at that point you’d learn of his name, but you didn’t want to go too far.

“Don’t worry about me for a moment. You can take my umbrella, and I can take a cab. We get home safely, with one of us less drenched unfortunately, but everything will work out in the end. Deal?” His proposition sounds so firm and settled that you had no reason to deny him anymore.

So you relent, much to your own benefit, too. “Fine.”

He chuckles at your unintentional curt response. You correct yourself, “I mean— thank you, for the umbrella. Sorry, I was just stupid to go out without one, knowing it was gonna rain sooner than later.”

“Happens to the best of us,” he chuckles again while pulling something out of his own paper bag. You recognize it immediately, the cup noodles you had to let go of.

“Oh, you shouldn’t have—”

“There you go again, rejecting what I’m putting down here,” he chastises. “It would be a shame if,” he looks at the label before continuing, “Savory Shiitake Soup was left out unwillingly with his other cup noodle pals.”

You stop yourself from internally cringing at how he read it so slowly, as if he’s never had cup ramen in his life. You’d believe it, too, but then again he’s the one parading his sophisticated looks in a local store at a random town.

“I stick to the basic kinds,” he explains, seeing the meek surprise on your face.

It is almost twenty degrees out yet your body temperature is steaming hot. You admit defeat (to yourself) and open up the paper bag so he can put the cup inside. Secretly, you’re thankful the whole gang is in there which makes your stomach grumble all of a sudden. And he hears it.

“I take it, it's almost dinnertime,” he points out.

“Shut up,” you say, lips pouting. To a stranger.

He laughs at the bluntness. “It’s the perfect meal for a weather like this. If you have any eggs at home, I recommend cracking one in right before you eat it.”

“Yes!” You exclaim loudly, eyes shining with interest.

You’ve always done that with your ramen, albeit you hear of some people’s disgust over such a technique.

“I do have eggs at home, thank god, but I can’t believe you do it that way too,” you disclose. It makes the soup eggy and more creamy, what can you say?

“I add a drop of chili oil for added spice on mine, that really seals the deal for me,” you continue, feeling a little less uptight being next to him. However, the moment you uttered those words, his face grimaces for a second as he gulps and nods absently at you.

“You’re not a spicy guy yourself?” It comes out before you register what those words could mean otherwise.

He doesn’t catch it or at least, he doesn’t mind. He laughs again, and the gleeful contrast of his voice to the harsh rain is somewhat giving you warmth inside.

(And not the sweaty kind.)

“Not in regards to food, sadly no,” he says. “My friends tolerate it better than I do, so whenever I have the chance to cook for them I have to separate their portions if the recipe called for some kick to it.”

“You cook?”

“I try to,” he implies sheepishly, cheekbones turning up with the way he grins. It was endearing, watching him explain how it’s become a hobby of his for the past few months and that his roommates have benefited as a result.

All the food talk continues to make you hungrier, but the way he shares personal stories all of a sudden is a delightful experience for you. His eyes glint animatedly when he recalls the time when two of his friends fought over leftover bulgogi, in which he had no choice but to make some more. At two in the morning.

You listen intently, and laugh when he reaches the punchline and prideful banter about the people he seemed to deeply care about. It didn’t even matter how hard hitting the rain felt against the ground, you were actually covered quite expansively by the umbrella.

In return, you quickly notice that the side of his coat has been drenched all this time. Instinctively, you pull at the sleeve of his clothing, surprising him by the movement as you butt heads for a moment. It wasn’t hard, but it definitely paused the natural flow of conversation you two were having.

“You’ve had the umbrella mostly on me this whole time,” you chide almost regretting doing so, “Sorry.”

“It’s just clothes,” he chuckles upon realizing what just happened, but afterwards his smile returns. “Thanks for looking out for me, though.”

You feel yourself smiling too wide from that comment.

You think of something to say before you get too comfortable with this feeling, and then you remember: “You haven’t booked your way home yet.”

“Oh! You’re right,” he says a little too quickly, and you feel a twinge of disappointment weighting in your stomach at how fast he reacted to that.

Of course, at the end of the day, he’s just stuck with you due to some unlucky situation you found yourself in. He’s just doing you a favor.

He checks his phone for a few minutes, the light illuminating on his face. You notice the hard lines of his jaw and the curvature of his nose a bit more definitely now, and it’s amazing how one person can look like that.

This time, you reprimand yourself from staring too much and so you watch the people passing by again. Hand in hand, raincoats and umbrellas in their grasp as they fight against the current of the rain.

“Okay, I just finished booking it on the app. It says it should arrive in less than five minutes,” he brings you out of your reverie.

“That’s great to hear,” you say with as much enthusiasm as you can. You eye the handle of the umbrella in which his hand has been gripping all this time. You know you’re soon to be left with it, alone, as he rides the cab and finally part ways with you.

“I can keep holding on to this until it gets here,” he says, almost reading your mind. “I hope it is of good use to you tonight, and in the near future.”

“I’ll keep it safe and useful, of course,” you say, feeling the pit of your stomach get heavier and heavier. You’re not sure what it is, or you’re probably in denial. You start to count the seconds in your head, imagining how to tell him goodbye and perhaps… never seeing him again.

You don’t even know his name.

“I’m Younghyun— before I forget,” yet again, he hears the pleas in your mind and you ought to keep the thoughts silent as he suspiciously introduces himself.

“I’ve been exposing my friends’ and their ways of borderline gluttony to you, I haven’t even given you my name yet.”

Younghyun, you repeat in your head. Your lips curl upward at the sound of his name, it suits him well.

“Do you mind if I can get yours as well?” It was a polite question, nothing out of the ordinary of two people meeting each other for the first time.

But Younghyun seemed to have other, further plans from that. His phone is still on, and it’s facing in your direction. Looking down, you see that he has an unfilled out contact information on the screen.

“Oh,” you mumble out loud, not wanting for it to sound too pleasantly surprised. He takes it the other way, however, as he tries to retract his phone. “Sorry, I thought— I just wanted to know if you got home safely and—”

“No, please! It’s okay. I’d— um, I don’t have my phone on me right now but I can text my number if that’s alright with you,” you explain quickly before he can put it back in his pocket.

With an openly relieved expression, Younghyun changes the app to his messages and gives you his phone. You type in something easy to recognize in addition to your name on it, and send it to your number. Right as you give it back to him, a car with its headlights on park upfront, beaming the two of you with its brightness.

“I guess that’s my ride,” Younghyun hesitates. “I know it seems odd, but I really enjoyed talking to you despite…,” he finishes by looking at the puddle forming underneath where you both stand. You agree with a hearty laugh, the uneasiness you feel inside dissipating.

“Thank you, for the umbrella. And my cheap shiitake noodles,” you humor him, but your words are laced with sincerity.

He hands you the umbrella, enclosing his fingers over yours as you grip onto the handle tightly. His hand is just the right temperature, cozy and warm. It immediately sends your head reeling.

“Are you sure you don’t want to share the ride with me? I think I’ve proven enough to you that I’m just a beginner in the kitchen, and not an evil person,” Younghyun suggests. You nudge him just enough to tip him over the edge, playful and amicable on your end.

“I’ll text you, I promise. Is that good enough for you, Younghyun?” With the sound of his name coming from you, lips widen in the most cheerful grin he’s shared to you today.

If you’re being really honest with yourself, you feel a little special.

“You better stay true to your words.”

“Go home, Younghyun!”

You watch his ride pull out of the parking lot, and drive into the night. It’s funny because the rain went from hazardous conditions to gentle whispers of droplets which makes walking back home easier for you, probably even without an umbrella.

But you hold onto it tight, knowing that Younghyun had his hands on the same spot makes you squeal like a teenage girl on the way home. You walk faster than normal, pools of water on the pavement splashing at the ends of your sweatpants. It’s disgusting, you most likely need to change completely, but it was far from your concern.

You get home and head straight for your bed where your phone was, disregarding the drenched clothes you have on dripping on the sheets.

The text from Younghyun’s number came through, and inspecting further he texts you two more times.

You giggle, finally letting out giddy feelings where no one can judge you. You text him back.

And you think that’s the end for today, and you think of things to say for tomorrow that wouldn’t make you seem like you’re overstepping it. But your phone vibrates in your hand, and your eyes stare at his quick response.

Your heart pounds in your chest; it’s heavy, weighing down on you but for completely different reasons.

You plop down on your bed head first, pillow against your cheek. You actually do it, you scream. Not of what you thought you’d be doing, but the complete opposite.

Before you pass out in excitement, you manage a reply.

You do end up staying up late at night, eating your well deserved hot cup of noodles. But the laptop isn’t on, and you decide you can catch up on shows some other time.

You and Younghyun text the night away, it’s not awkward anymore. You feel yourself easing up to his banter through messages and gifs which you try to one up him every so often.

The rain had stopped sometime in the night, and instead your heart continued to pound heavily in your chest. It was exhilarating, to say the least, but you welcomed the feeling of having something to look forward to.

You remind yourself to not only do groceries tomorrow, but also do your laundry. (You never got to change into something more dry that night.)

#young k scenarios #young k imagines #day6 scenarios #day6 imagines #brian kang imagines #brian kang scenarios #young k x reader #young k au #day6 au #by:jiae

36 notes · View notes

captaincvans · 4 years

Text

Chapter Four: Skin to Bone

03/01/20

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Word Count: 1667+

Warnings: Language; TW: Miscarriage

Series Masterpost

A/N: I apologize for the long wait for this chapter! I hope I do this story justice, and I hope you all enjoy the updates. If you have a kind word or two to spare, please drop by my Askbox- I really need it.

Y/N turned around at the door, seeing the hard face of her ex-boyfriend before he slammed the door at her face. She stumbled through the city, trying to numb her emotions and think about her next steps. She needed a place to stay, luckily it was still the holidays, and she had the next two days off. The first hotel she went to was booked up, and so was the second one, and the third one. She opted for a small motel in the quieter part of town, where it wouldn’t be bustling with tourists. She managed to get a single room with a king sized bed for a reasonable price. Chris didn’t leave her with much stuff, just her phone that was quickly losing battery, her purse, and a duffle bag that she threw her essentials in. Luckily, she always brought a battery pack in case of emergencies. She chewed on her lip for a while, wondering what to do next.

“Fuck it,” she muttered under her breath. She typed a quick text to Chris, hoping he hadn’t blocked her number yet.

I need the rest of my stuff. When can I pick it up?

She waited a few seconds before her phone pinged.

Tomorrow morning. John will be there.

Y/N didn’t bother to text back, her body exhausted from the day, her mind shutting down to protect herself from the incoming wave of emotions. She decided to retire for the night, just after showering in the dirty bathroom, she thought it would be best to stay in the clothes she came in, unsure of the last time the bedsheets were actually clean. Once in bed, the weight of the day came crashing down on her. Their three-year relationship was gone, just down the drain. Chris was someone she found herself imagining living the rest of her life with, but now their relationship has ended like this. Once a drop of tear escaped, there was no turning back. She was angry at him for not giving her a chance to speak, for not giving her the chance to tell him about the baby she might be carrying, but overall she was just sad. Chris had never behaved like this towards her, or anyone he knows for that matter! It would have taken a lot to get him this upset, but she just didn’t know what she did to make him upset like this- or if there was even a reason. Perhaps that was the most upsetting part of it all, he never gave her a chance to fix the relationship. He just gave up on them. He didn’t fight for them. Y/N spent hours grieving over the relationship she lost, mourning over the future she thought she would have.

Her heart was bubbling with anger and hurt, the feelings making her want to vomit, but she remained strong. She lived all her other years without Chris, and would be damned if she let him ruin her life like this. Overall, she felt defeated with the turn of events. Chris was as stubborn as a person would get, he wasn’t going to change his mind or listen to her while he was still this hurt. After a restless sleep, she woke up at around 9AM, unusually late for her, but she was grateful for the fact that it was now a reasonable time to head over to Chris’s apartment. She took her car, thankful that she always had a preference towards a CRV instead of smaller cars.

“Hi John,” Y/N greeted quietly, not knowing what his mood was going to be. She wasn’t even sure if he knew the whole story, and if he would be resentful towards her.

“Hi Y/N,” he replied. He gave her a small smile, sympathy in his eyes. “How are you holding up?”

She shrugged. “Not great.”

He nodded, unsure of what else to say. “Do you need help getting these in your car?”

“That would be great. Thanks.”

John grabbed the box closest to him, and placed it inside her car. Slowly, but surely the car was starting to get full with all her stuff, and it left her heart aching more. Once the last of her items were in the car, John stopped her. “Before I forget. Chris wanted me to give you this.” He handed her a stapled contract.

“Oh right… The agreement,” Y/N mumbled. She never thought her relationship with Chris would end this badly, she never thought it would end, period. She was sure he was the one she would spend the rest of her life with. She would never forget signing this form when they reached their second year anniversary, almost a year ago. Chris hadn’t even told her about this directly, John had given her all this information on his own.

“Sorry about all this, Y/N.”

“It’s not your fault, John. How should I make the payments?”

“You can deposit it into the account shown on the last page. It should have all the information you need, and if you have any questions feel free to call me.”

She read over the letter, heart sinking when she saw the amount of money she owed, but she wasn’t surprised. Chris had spent quite a great deal on her and the relationship. She dragged her feet to the motel, hoping to find some apartments around the area that she can afford. She was far from poor, but if she needed to make monthly instalments to Chris, she would need to be smart with her budget. Afterall, paying someone $50 000 was not in her mind when she was making the budget for the year.

The first thing she did was book an appointment with her family doctor to confirm her pregnancy. Y/N was hoping to make the first appointment with Chris after she had told him, but now she supposed everything had to be done by herself. She went back to work the next day, refusing to stay in bed and wallow in her sorrow.

Her doctor’s appointment was on a rainy Wednesday, the weather matching her foul mood. She was grateful that they didn’t ask too many questions about the baby daddy, and instead focused on the her and the baby’s health, giving her all the information she needed.

A month after they separated, the investigation started. Y/N wasn’t sure what to think. She knew for sure she would never steal from Chris, she was adamant in proving that she was never with him for his money. But no one seemed to believe her. She couldn’t blame them. If Chris didn’t even believe her, how could she expect strangers to believe her? She did her best with giving as much information to the police as possible. They were looking into her accounts, but she was confident they wouldn’t find anything. She was positive in her innocence.

The stress was getting to her, pressure from her friends and family on why she and Chris broke up on top of the investigation was piling up. She woke up in her one bedroom apartment, a sharp pain in her abdomen. A pressure in her chest was building as an ominous feeling dawned on her. She made a beeline to the bathroom, seeing the blood seep through her cream shorts, and she felt nauseous. She phoned her OB/Gyn in a panic, quickly washing up to Uber to her doctor. She wasn’t going to risk driving in this condition.Two long hours later, and she got her result. She had a miscarriage. While her doctor was going on with how often it happened, she tuned out. There was an empty feeling in her heart, and she wasn’t sure if it would ever be filled again.

Y/N had no time to grieve the loss of her baby because a month later the press found out about the whole investigation. After that her life became a living hell. The journalist and press were following her around like a piranha smelling fresh blood. Once the news became public that she was remotely involved in this fraud case, she was fired from her workplace with the excuse that they didn’t want to have the negative press on her team. The next few months were unbearable to say the least. Every day was harder than the previous.

Y/N left her home to do a quick grocery run, her small home was packed with paparazzis around her. She asked her lawyer a few months ago to move to a smaller apartment and somewhere she could have a small sense of security, losing her job and the payments she made to John made a considerable dent to her savings. Unfortunately, her lawyer said no. There were strict rules on what she could and couldn’t do as a part of this investigation as outlined by the court, and moving was not an option. As she was coming back, one of the journalist had gotten close to her, enough to hit her with their giant cameras.

“What do you have to say about the investigation?”

“Were you just with Chris for his money?”

“Did you steal from him?”

“Did you plan all of this?”

Questions were thrown at her, each one hitting her harder. She knew that she never had any intention of hurting Chris, even after all this time, she was no longer mad at him. Instead, she felt sorry for him. It must have been hard for him to accept that the people closest to him betrayed him, and she knew how sensitive he was to the people around him. He was always so friendly to people, and there were some that took advantage of his kindness.

“Please leave me alone,” she said, trying to avoid more cameras hitting her.

“What was that?”

“Can you repeat that?”

“Did you say to leave you alone?”

It was the first time she acknowledged them by talking to them, and they were eating it up. Now she was even more anxious. She knew not to have given them anything, Chris had told her that all the time when they were dating. Once they think they have a chance to get something out of you, they would attack and be more aggressive with their advances. Finally, she made it inside her home, quickly locking the door behind her and throwing her groceries on the kitchen counter. Once her hands were empty, she fell to her knees, tears quickly falling down her face.

Scott drove them both home, Chris being unfit to even get behind the wheels with his mind so jumbled.

“You gonna be okay?” Scott asked once they arrived at Chris’s farmhouse.

Chris nodded numbly, offering a forced smile. “Yea, I’ll be fine. Go on your date.”

“I can cancel-”

“Scott, really, it’s fine.” Chris punched his brother’s arm, trying to give him a semblance of his old self. “I’ll be fine. I’m good.”

“Okay. If you need anything- and I mean anything, call me, okay?”

Chris rolled his eyes. “Yes, mom.”

Scott chuckled, shaking his head. He grabbed his duffle bag of stuff he brought when he stayed over.

Once Scott left, Chris fell to his couch. Dodger padding towards him, and throwing his toy next to him. “Not now, buddy.” He did, however, scratch the back of the canine’s ears. “I fucked up, and I gotta figure out a way to apologize to your mom.” He pulled out his phone, trying to find any sign on Y/N through her social media. She’s never been an avid user, especially once their relationship became public. He wasn’t surprised to find that she hasn’t been active since a bit before they broke up.

However, something on his Twitter caught his eye. It was a paparazzi photo of Y/N from the morning exiting a grocery store, and a few more from outside of what he assumed was her home. She was highly distressed, her sunglasses failing to hide the crease between her brows, and the way her body curled in itself. The tweet itself was hateful, telling Y/N she brought this upon herself. Chris flared with anger, seeing the replies and other tweets, all blaming her. Just like him, they didn’t hear her side of the story. He went through the journalist’s tweets, they wrote clickbait articles using her name, getting quotes from her friends and family that he knew weren’t all that truthful. One of the article broke his heart. There was a quote from her begging them to stop following her, to leave her alone, but they made a joke out of it in their writing. They weren’t interested in telling a story. They were there to just break her even more.

Chris went back to his page, and tweeted something for the first time in a few months.

<-- (Chapter 3) (Chapter 5) -->

- Tag List -

@lost-in-t-h-e-abyss @vogueworthy-barnes @hista-girl @tfandtws @aletteredaffair @traceyaudette @lupine-princess @songforhema @stella2445 @coffeebooksandfandom @qrndevans @straightforwardly @cesarofangirl78 @buckybarneslove76 @kaithezaftig @evanstush @ownerofthebastard @jadedhillon @ka-x-in @lili-ann-love @bulldozed88 @dolan-mendes @jeleners1430 @yougurt-con-avena @fandomoneshots-imagines @patzammit @ramblingsnfandom @beanthedoggo @luckylightfiction @luckyfiction17 @chrisevanssleeping @snave-sirhc @gemgemswift @firstangeldragonranch @hiddlesbitch1 @virtualmemmecollector @heladoom @crimeshowtrash @notyourtypicalrose @peach-acid @uneniffler @cloudyskylines @simmisblog @shikshinkwon @queenkronk @aubageddon91 @thefandomzoneisdangerous @the-soulofdevil @lizblinder @what-is-your-wish @natdrunk @capsiclesdoll @genesgoingtohamslam @kapokipa666 @mom---nicole @cltex84 @star-spangled-steve @sassyspacedust @dlb113 @bojabee @iwik3it @samsebsblog @friyak1 @multireality @joannie95 @mrsfox79 @lady-x-red @princess-evans-addict @aria253264 @fallenoutofrose @bitchwhytho @frencchfries @shmara100 @honeymarvelz @jilybeanz @saiyanprincessswanie @chi00072 @youaremyfiveever @madisonpillstrom @13-reasons-ideas @christocrave @impairedmuse @itsallyscorner @bellaireland1981 @icanfeelastormbrewing @thereisatardison221bbakerstreet @sweet--rabbit @samsebsblog @stilltoomuchafangirl @kaetastic @sweetlittlegingy @bigbandbombshell @mishagreenleaf @shannon124 @the-wayward-robot

#chris evans x reader #Chris Evans #chris evans fanfiction #Chris Evans fandom #chris evans oneshot #josephine writes #steve rogers x reader #Steve Rogers #steve x reader #marvel #chris x reader #marvel fanfiction #marvel oneshot #marvel fics

257 notes · View notes