#but can we pretend for one night. just one mama. that i had a nightmare and you let me crawl in your bed | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

prentisssgf · 30 days

Text

| snow day

| criminal minds

| emily prentiss x reader

| fluff

| 1362 words

| a/n can we just pretend that emily has never seen snow PLEASE, also I hate this so badly but I want to finish it lol

It was common knowledge that Emily Prentiss traveled a lot, she used to say that she had been everywhere in the world and you thought that she was just being dramatic until she showed you all the pictures.

One night a girls night Emily confessed to you, even though she had been around the world she had never seen snow, you figured that she was lying but when she explained to you that every time she went around the world in winter hoping to see the snow it just didn't happen, she drunkenly told you that when she was younger she used to put a channel on the tv where it was just snow to "get the full experience" but when she woke up she was adamant that she didn't tell you that.

Now here you were, 7 years later with your 3 year old Amelia.

You had been married to Emily for 5 years and you loved her so much, you decided to try IVF 4 years ago and thankfully you were lucky and your daughter Amelia was born.

"Mommy" you were woken up a little brunette running up to your bed, around 2am, sometimes you would look at her and you couldn't wrap your head around how similar Amelia and Emily looked, you sat up in your bed and you looked over at your sleeping wife, you pulled her up and sat her on your lap "scared" Amelia grabbed your face to squish your cheeks to make sure that you were really listening to her, something she picked up from you but you would never admit it.

"Baby" you cooed, rocking her trying to make her go to sleep again "what was the nightmare about, do you remember?"

"You and mama" her eyes filled with tears "a bad guy said that you and mama didn't like me anymore" her body shook from sobs.

"Oh honey" you kissed her head a couple of times, your voice shook with sobs too at her confession "nothing you could ever do would make me or mama hate not like you anymore, you'll always be our number 1 girl okay Amy?" you felt Amelia's head nod on your chest "we love you so so much and please baby that man is not real, you have to believe us" you smiled "do you want to stay here with us or are you ready to go back in your grown up girl bed?" you chuckled slightly.

"Can I stay here until I fall asleep?" she looked up at you with a pout, something she also inherited from you.

"Of course you can sweetheart" you squeezed her before settling her in between you and Emily.

"Em" you tapped your wife until she woke up and turned around to you, "Amy's here with us, she had that same nightmare again"

"Oh about that man saying that we hate her?" Emily ducked her head as you nodded, she bent down to kiss Amelia on her head and then your lips before swiping the hair out of your daughter's face.

"Yeah" you sighed running your finger down her arm absentmindedly.

"Hey" Emily's voice made you look at her "she's going to be okay you know?" Emily smiled.

"I know, I'm just worried for her, should she be having this many nightmares at this age?" you had to hold back a sob.

"No" Emily agreed "but not everyone's mothers are feds" Emily tried to sympathise.

"She'll be fine, right?" you worried.

"If she's anything like her mommy, she'll be great" Emily smiled gently.

You smiled back "I love you”

"I love you" Emily smiled.

"Should we take her back?"' Emily spoke softly after a few minutes.

"Probably but she's not gonna want to come in and sleep in our bed when she's older" you pouted.

"Okay, just a few minutes then"

You nodded in agreement and then yawned, Emily kissed the top of your head as a goodnight before you fell asleep.

"I'm going to take her back alright?" Emily spoke up around half an hour later.

At this point you were fully asleep so you just unconsciously said okay which made Emily laugh.

She came back 5 minutes later and scooted really close to you "Goodnight baby" she kissed your forehead.

"G'night Milly" you smiled in your sleep and wrapped your hand around Emily's waist.

☆

"Mommy mommy mommy" Amelia came running in your room around 8am, causing you and Emily sitting up quickly.

"Amy" you tiredly groaned "you know you're only supposed to wake us up in case of emergencies"

"Like fire or if it's snowing" Emily added jokingly.

"Yeah yeah yeah yeah snow snow snowwwwww" Amelia shouted excitedly, tapping her feet, doing a very cute happy dance.

"Snow?" you shot her a confused glance and then you and Emily looked at each other.

"Mommy mama look outside" she pointed to the window.

You picked Amelia up and you and Emily walked to the window.

"No way, this is beautiful" Emily gawked.

"You're more beautiful" you whispered.

Emily turned around and kissed you again.

"Me and mama and mommy go outside and play?" her eyes went wide in amusement.

"Absolutely, I've packed the snow stuff away so you can stay here with mama and I'll get your things, okay?" you smiled as you placed her on the bed.

"Hey honey?" Emily called you over.

"Yeah what's up?" you smiled.

"Is it gonna be.. you know.. like safe?" Emily worried.

"Oh yeah should be fine the snow isn't that high and we'll go out with her and watch her like a hawk" you laughed.

"Snow's not dangerous right, like isn't it supposed to be icy? what if Amy falls on it and-"

"Milly breathe" you took her hands in yours "Snow is not dangerous, I promise you" you grabbed her cheeks and kissed her forehead "She's gonna be fine, I'll get her snow stuff, and I'll get yours"

You came back to see Emily with Amy in her arms, they were both too focused on watching the snow to see you had came back, you snuck a photo of them before listening to their conversation

"It's so beautiful mama" Amelia smiled with her arms around Emily's neck.

"Mhmm" Emily agreed "but you are even more beautiful" Emily smiled as Amy laughed.

You smiled gently before Amelia noticed you and called you over.

"Look at this" she whispered

"Wow" you shot back as you kissed her head and wrapped your hand around Emily's shoulder "I think that we should make snow angels"

☆

"Alright you guys look beautiful" you smiled as you took a photo of Emily and Amelia together in the snow.

"Hah" Emily grimaced through nerves.

"You having fun Amy?" you asked your daughter who was now making snow angels.

"YES" she squealed which made you and Emily laugh.

"You having fun Em?" you asked your wife who just nodded, you could tell she was extremely nervous and you didn't want to embarrass her so you just left it for a while.

"Snow angels" Amelia exclaimed before dramatically falling into the snow.

You laughed before doing the same thing.

The rest of the day was spent making snow angels and snowmen whilst you all had a snowball fight.

☆

"How are my favourite girls doing?" you asked handing over hot cocoa to Emily and apple juice to Amelia after you gave Amelia a bath and changed her into warm pajamas, you and Emily decided to bathe too, taking turns to watch Amy.

You saw them wrapped up in a blanket with two blankets underneath, you walked over to them, kissing Amy's head and Emily's lips when you pulled Amy up you sat her on your lap, spending the rest of the night watching Christmas films until Amy fell asleep.

☆

"How was that?" you asked Emily running a finger down her arm.

"Good, less dangerous then I thought it was going to be" you both laughed.

"It was the best, I loved it and I love you and Amy" she grinned as she kissed you.

"I love you and Amy so much" you smiled into the kiss, soon enough you both fell asleep thankful.

#criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x you #paget brewster #criminal minds x you #emily x reader #emily x you

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upat4amwiththemoon · 2 years

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I love your two sides story! I hope you continue it but if you don't, is it ok if I request that we can get like a side chapter where, Kate meets mama Melina :))

It's OK if you don't want too!

Mama Melina

Summary: Mama Melina was called after all.

Pairing: Kate Bishop x female!reader, Yelena Belova x sister!reader, Melina x daughter!reader

Warnings: google translated Russian

Word count: 1333

a/n: This is part of the Two sides world, so I would recommend reading part one and two first, but it’s not necessary :) I’m not 100% if there’ll be more full parts to Two sides, but you guys are always welcome to request things you’d like to know about the world!

Tags: @thought-of-you-and-me @rafecameronswhore

“Yelena!” Y/N yells out and runs out of her room, leaving a very confused Kate behind. “What did you do, you сука?” She slaps Yelena’s arm.

“Ow!” Even though it doesn’t hurt, Yelena pretends it does. “I’ve done nothing. Why are you yelling?”

“You told mama Melina about Kate!” Kate’s eyes widen as she listens to the conversation from the other room.

Yelena chuckles. “Oh, that.” She laughs some more, now louder. “Yeah, I told her. That’s what you get for hiding things and lying to me.”

“That is so unfair.” Y/N groans, rubbing her face. “I wasn’t ready to tell her yet.”

“She would’ve found out eventually when she realized you’re hiding something.” Yelena rolls her eyes at Y/N’s dramatics. “I just sped up the process, she was already suspecting something is going on.”

“She wants to meet her, like tomorrow.” Yelena shrugs at the urgency in her voice, not seeing anything bad in a dinner with their mother. “She is angry, Yelena!” Y/N raises her voice, annoyed by the nonchalance.

“Not my problem.” Y/N whines, stomping her leg before walking back to her room when she notices she’s getting nothing from Yelena. “Remember to tell her to bring some homemade mac and cheese with her!”

Y/N slams the door closed, ignoring Yelena’s muffled Leave the door open! yell. She leans her forehead against the door and sighs. Kate wraps her arms around Y/N’s waist, setting her chin to her shoulder.

“I guess I’m meeting your mom then.”

“I’m sorry.” Y/N turns around to see Kate. “I really didn’t want her to find out like this.”

“It’s fine! I think.” Kate gives her a toothy smile, moving her hands to Y/N’s bare skin to rub it softly.

Even though it’s been a week since they decided to become official, and kiss for the first time, Y/N still feels the need to recoil away from Kate’s touch. And sometimes she does, but Kate is there for her every single time. Supporting and reassuring her.

“Tell me about her. Is there something I should know about her?”

Y/N hums, leaning the back of her head against the door as her eyes dart to the ceiling. “She is very protective, I suppose some would call her a bit controlling.” She scoffs with a smile. Her whole family is controlling, she is used to it. “She makes sure every single one is fed and taken cared of. Whenever I had a nightmare and couldn’t sleep, she’d stay with me the whole night.”

“She sounds great.” One of Kate’s hands move up to Y/N’s cheek, making her look at her.

“She is.” Y/N smiles. “Just not with outsiders.” She cringes as she stares at Kate.

“Well…” Kate grins. “She’ll like me.” She frowns when Y/N stays quiet. “Right?”

“Let’s hope so.”

The knock on Y/N and Yelena’s front door makes goosebumps appear on Kate’s arms. Melina is here. Yelena goes to open the door while Y/N and Kate wait in the living room, as Yelena didn’t allow them out of her sight.

The pair can hear them talking at the door, Yelena clearly excited by the homemade mac and cheese Melina brought.

Melina and Yelena walk into the living room, the latter holding a bug pot of mac and cheese, making Y/N stand up. She walks over to Melina and hugs her. “Hey mama.”

“Hello, sweetheart.” Melina kisses the top of Y/N’s head.

When Melina backs away from the hug, Kate stands up as well. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs Vos-Vostokoff.” She pronunciation of Melina’s last name is slightly butchered, but not as bad as it would be if she didn’t practice saying it with Y/N the night before.

Melina hums, staring at the hand Kate is putting out to shake her hand. Yelena snickers as Kate’s face turns into a grimace, while slowly putting her hand down.

“Mama.” Y/N mumbles, giving her a small glare. “Don’t be mean.”

“I am not being mean.” Melina pinches Y/N’s cheek before turning to Yelena. “Come on then, let’s eat.”

Y/N goes to stand next to Kate when Yelena and Melina walk into the kitchen to reheat the mac and cheese. “It’s gonna take a while for her to ease up.” She mumbles.

“That’s okay.” Kate gives her a reassuring smile, grabbing her hand. “You are the baby, I get it.”

“I am not the baby.” Y/N grumbles.

“You totally are. It’s adorable.” Kate giggles, kissing her cheek before they step into the kitchen.

Kate and Y/N sit next to each other, opposite of Yelena and Melina. Melina puts food on her daughters’ plates, putting the ladle back after so Kate could get her own food. Y/N gives Melina another glare, but it goes unnoticed.

“So,” Melina starts, setting her fork down momentarily. “A girlfriend.” Is all she says as she stares at Y/N and Kate.

“Yes, mama. Kate is my girlfriend.”

“They already said they love each other.” Yelena fake gags. “And they’re always kissing.”

“Yelena!” Y/N throws a napkin at Yelena’s direction, though it doesn’t land anywhere near here. “Shut up.”

“Вы любите ее? Действительно?” Melina stares at Y/N with one brow raised. She knows Y/N isn’t the most knowledgeable when it comes to relationships and such, which is why she is very cautious when it comes to them. “Ты уверен?” (You love her? Already? Are you sure?)

“Да, мама.”

Melina glances at Kate, who is looking at them with a confused expression, not understanding Russian. Melina turns to Yelena, asking her what she thinks of Kate and their relationship.

Yelena shrugs and shoves a forkful of mac and cheese in her mouth. “Только не занимайся сексом, когда я здесь.” (Just don’t have sex when I’m here.)

“Yelena! Сука!” Y/N yells. She hides her very warm feeling face behind her hands.

“Y/N.” Melina scolds. “No cursing at your sister.” Y/N whines, slumping in her seat, but quiets down instantly when Melina gives her a look.

Kate laughs at Y/N’s actions in her mind, too scared to do it out loud. She isn’t sure what the three of them were talking about, but it’s clear it’s not going to Y/N’s favor. Which is kind of funny, it really shows she is the baby of the family.

Y/N and Melina are staring at each other, as if talking with only their eyes so no one else would understand. After a while, Melina sighs and turns to Kate. “Kate Bishop, yes?”

“Yes!” Kate says a bit too loudly, excited that Melina is finally addressing her. “That’s me.”

“You love Y/N?”

“I do. I love her very much.”

“And you know what happens if you hurt her?” Y/N tries to intervene, but before she can even say anything, Melina lifts up her hand to silence her.

“You and Yelena will hurt me…very badly?” She glances at the blonde, who is happily eating her food.

“Worse than badly.”

Kate nods. She takes Y/N’s hand in her own under the table, for support. “I understand. I would never hurt her.”

Melina hums. She glances at Y/N and gives her a small nod. “I accept your relationship.”

The smile on Kate’s face is so wide Yelena thinks it’ll split her face in half. “Mama, I would’ve been with her even if you didn’t accept.”

“No, you wouldn’t have.”

“No, I wouldn’t have.” Y/N grumbles quietly with a roll of her eyes. “Can we go to my room now? We’re done eating.” Melina shoos them with her hand. “Thank you for the food mama!”

“Thank you for the dinner, Mrs Vostokoff.”

“It’s Melina.” She gives Kate a small smile as they start walking away.

“Thank you, Melina.”

“Keep the door open!” Both Melina and Yelena yell out just as Y/N is closing the door. With an extra loud groan, just so they hear her displeasure, Y/N leaves the door open.

#marvel #mcu #marvel imagine #mcu imagine #mcu fanfiction #fluff #kate bishop #kate bishop x female reader #kate bishop x y/n #kate bishop x reader #kate bishop imagine #platonic yelena belova #yelena belova x sister!reader #yelena belova #melina vostokoff #mom!melina vostokoff #melina vostokoff x daughter!reader

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omg-im-such-a-masochist · 2 years

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What You Can Learn Ch. 4

Summary: After being suspended from AEW, Max’s dad decides to give him a life lesson by sending him to one of the poorest parts of Long Island to get a small taste of what real life looks like. What seemed to be a nightmare soon turned out to be quite the journey when he meets a single mother and her nosy offspring. And for the first time in his life, Max will quickly realize that what truly matters in life might not be his beloved money after all.

Word Count: 803 words

Pairings: MJF x OFC Ella

Editor: @thenightmareismyreality

Tag: @theworldofotps , @writtingrose , @letsgivethisonemoreshot , @aerynscrichton , @daddyhausen , @damnnhausen , @starwithaheart, @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin , @sophiewolfheart-blog , @sultryfandoms , @new-zealand-chic , @crowleysqueenofhell , @thealliasylum , @legit9thlunaticwarrior , @baysexuality , @josiewrites , @seeingstarks , @sldghmmr , @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch , @whenimakeitshine1234

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

“What are you doing with my child?!” Ella quickly pulled Violet away from Max’s arms “Honey, are you ok? Did he do something to you?”

“No, mommy. He protected me from the mean boys that destroyed Dolly”.

“They did what?” Ella’s eyes narrowed and she glanced down the street as if she already knew who those boys were. “Oh, I’ll have a nice chat with them” Her voice was filled with rage as she placed Violet down on the floor and began to walk towards the boys’ house.

Max quickly ran after her and grabbed her arm to prevent her from going there but she quickly turned around and snarled “Do not touch me!”

“Wow, easy, mama bear” He lifted his hands up in the air as a sign of surrender “Relax, I already took care of it, they won’t bother her anymore”.

“You took care of it?” She scoffed “Of course you took care of it! And what do you want as a ‘thank you’, Mr. Friedman? A quick fuck?”

Max’s eyes widened at the young woman’s raw honesty, earning a bitter laugh from her “What? Do you think I’m dumb? I meet guys like you all the time, Mr. Friedman! Guys that pretend to care about my child, guys who pretend to like my child, guys who want to ‘help’, guys who ‘love me’, guys who are so ‘thoughtful’ and ‘comprehensive’ that want nothing more than a one night stand! I’ve seen it all before! I meet men like you every fucking day! So please, stop acting like I’m some kind of dumb fuck hole who can’t see your true colors” She closed the distance between them and whispered “You have no fucking idea of what life’s like! You have no fucking clue of what real suffering is! You’re just some rich kid whose daddy is trying to teach him a lesson! You’ve never starved, never slept on the streets, you never had to spend three days without food just so you could feed your own child! You have no fucking idea of how hard it is to listen that some fucked up kids bullied your daughter because stripping was the only available work you could find to not starve to death” Her eyes filled up with tears as she continued “You, Mr. Friedman, have no idea of how the real world is because as soon as your daddy thinks you’ve suffered enough, he’ll come by and take you back to your lovely mansion where a warm king sized bed and a prime rib will be waiting for you and all of this” She pointed to their houses “Will be just a bad memory of a temporary nightmare. But unfortunately for some of us, THIS IS the reality! We can’t run away from it, we can’t have the luxury of having everything handed to us! No, some of us had to fight every day to survive! So, I’m sorry, Mr. Friedman. But I’m afraid your dirty fantasy of sleeping with a poor stripper just so you can show off to your rich friends will have to be satisfied with someone else because I’ll only warn you once: Stay away from my kid and stop using her as some kind of tool for you to get what you want! She’s a person, a child and she has feelings, even though you don’t know the meaning of any of those words. Stop using my daughter’s innocence in your favor! And try to learn and grow up for once, would you?! Not every poor person you meet needs your pity”.

“It wasn’t for pity-” Max was quick to defend himself but she soon stopped him.

“Right! I forgot that in order to have pity one needs to first have a heart. Sorry, my bad” She mocked and for some reason Maxwell felt offended. “I do have a heart!”

“Yeah, a heart you use to deceive a child into thinking you care about her just so you can fuck her mom. Wow, what a kind heart” She called for Violet who quickly ran towards her. She picked the child up in her arms and turned away to walk back to her house. Once she opened the door, she looked back at Max and spoke a series of words that would keep him up the whole night.

“To have a heart like yours, Mr. Friedman, it’s best to not have a heart at all” She let Violet in and quickly followed her inside “I just hope you can realize and fix that before life lets you deal with the aftermath of being so self absorbed and selfish. Because trust me, Mr. Friedman, it’s very sad and lonely at the top. Hopefully you get to see that people are worth more than money before it’s too late”.

#mjf fanfiction #mjf aew #mjf x reader #mjf imagine #mjf #maxwell jacob friedman #what you can learn series #masochist writes

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smolvenger · 1 year

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Stella of Essex or The Vicar's Wife Betrayed, (The Essex Serpent Fix-It Fic Series) Chapter 15: Iris

Series Summary: The Essex Serpent is reimagined and told from the perspective of Stella Ransome. And with a new ending. Stella must come to terms with not only her mortality but her husband's heartbreaking affair. A portrait of a woman who became The Ideal Lady her time and marriage required her to be. A picture of a marriage of love and bliss torn apart by a husband's infidelity. And Stella herself in the center of it all, torn between a wife's duty and her own quiet but present rage. Where in the midst of devastating heartbreak she gains her strength, finds her voice, and dares to seek freedom, hope...and even revenge.

(yes the second gif is modern but I don't care- IT'S HER BEING HAPPY AT HER WEDDING DAMMIT!!!! SHE DESERVES THAT MUCH)

Chapter Summary: Despite the torments of her past, Stella Ransome finds happiness in her engagement and wedding to Harold Cavaradossi.

Pairing: Stella Ransome/Male OC: Harold Cavaradossi, some Stella/William Ransome but about the tragedy of their marriage and the angst of his cheating.

Prologue//One//Two//Three//Four//Five//Six//Seven//Eight//Nine//

Ten//Eleven//Twelve//Thirteen

Warnings: Mentions of a Major Character Death. (sorry not sorry). Mentions of sex, illness, and pregnancy. Nightmares. Canon Divergence. But this is a very fluffy chapter with happy stuff coming in. Being Anti-Will and C*ra so if you like the characters or pairing you have been warned.

COMMENTS AND REBLOGS AND ASKS AND MESSAGES ARE APPRECIATED!

“Mama, this is wonderful!” John cried, looking at the ring on my left hand.

Word had quickly spread to my children. They all gathered to look at the new ring like chickens.

“When will the wedding be?” Joanna asked.

“In April, the Springtime. By then, it’ll be over a year since your father died and it won’t be considered scandalous for me to remarry anymore. Besides, should I get sicker, we agreed the engagement should be short.” I explained.

“Is Harry our father now?” James asked, tilting his head.

“He will be. He’ll be your stepfather. But all of you must promise me- he will never be the father any of you grew up with. But you will love him and respect him all the same.”

“Of course,” Joanna nodded.

“Can I call him papa, then?”

“Don’t pretend like I’m not here, Jim! Of course, you can call me Papa!” Harry nodded.

“Sure, Papa!” James nodded with a smile. He ran up and gave Harry a hug.

It was not long before my parents also sent letters with their approval. They knew I was grown, but they gave me their blessing to marry him. Besides, especially considering how he was the head of a bank who loved me, I could do far worse.

As he gathered to leave, he took both of my hands in mine.

“I think the wedding should be near, my dear. There’s a chapel here and a cabin nearby-I’ve discussed it with the staff.”

“Wonderful!”

“And they’ll give it to us for a week. We’ll go there the night of the wedding…”

“Oh…alright” I answered, feeling a blush on my face in spite of myself.

“We do know that it’s going to be the chapel here…Do you know what you would like to have at the reception, Stella?”

“I prefer it to be small, intimate…just a nice little wedding. The ceremony shouldn’t matter, it’s the man that should,” I answered.

He smiled.

"Can I kiss your cheek?"

"Of course…"

"I’ll be staying at an inn nearby until then- I’ll visit you every week, Stella-and write to you every excuse I can!” he promised.

The bits of his cheekbones were pointed from the wideness of his smile.

“Please do, Harry,” I cooed in response.

“Oh, say it again- call me my name!”

I smiled and repeated it: “Harry, my darling.”

He brought my palm to his lips and kissed it.

The other patients, doctors, and nurses were all thrilled at my announcement. Many ladies would ask me questions about Harold and how I met him. They asked about his proposal and details about the wedding. Though I did have to have my dress ordered from a catalog. The day it arrived, everyone leaned in their beds for a look as I took it from the box to admire it. ▬▬ι══════════════ι▬▬

William still haunts me. He appears in my dreams. I dreamt of him most during the engagement to Harold.

I see him- Will Ransome. My Will. My First Husband. The Serpent keeps his curled hair slicked back; his chin is pointed up with his beard neatly trimmed for Sunday. The Serpent wears white robes with a bright green tassel around his shoulders as if it’s a snake drooped over his shoulders. Beneath it, you can see his black with the speck of white at his Adam's apple. The Serpent folds his hands in front of him. He stands at that cold, stony church. The Serpent raises his arms to the sky. Sometimes when I have the dream I squint and can see little flecks of blood on his white.

Then the scene in my dreams changed. I see him at the dinner table. It’s in our old house. He’s wearing his black sweater with white beneath it-almost but not entirely different from his holier black and white. The Serpent, William, Will, smiles at me, and then raises one long finger, brings it to his lips as if in secret, and smiles, going “shhhh” and I smile back like I would at him.

He would do that often in our marriage when feeling playful. But when he did that in my dreams, it felt different.

Why are you shushing? What are you going to do, William? Something to do with the children? With me? A secret? Are you taking me to your secret lake? Are you going to tickle James? To tease John? To teach Joanna? Or is it something else… Are you keeping our last secret in the grave? Are you keeping quiet about how I took you there? Or is it something else? Is this my old Will or the new Will? Why is your finger at your mouth to shush me?

Only it is too bad that I knew where that finger would be later.

And the dreams became worse near the year anniversary of his death: In this dream, all was as normal in our home in Aldwinter.

I recall walking in, holding a bunch of flowers. I walk into our kitchen- it’s a grey, cloudy day and it seems a little gloomy in that brown kitchen. I set the flower in the vase and am arranging it, trying to make it look pretty when I feel his hand. His large, heavy hand. It taps my shoulder with gentleness. It’s not the grip the victim would threaten against his killer. It’s the soft, affectionate touch of a husband to a wife. It’s a scene that happened between us thousands of times in our marriage.

I look up and see Will. Wearing his dark sweater to warm himself from the chill. He smiles at me and I at him. He then steps forward and puts a lock of hair back behind my ear and wipes my braid from my side to fall against my back. I even hear the taps of the little dog’s feet by my skirt.

“How are you, Stella?” he asks me.

“I’m wonderful, Will” I reply happily.

I look down at the flowers and then when I look up, he’s dancing with her against candlelight. I beg him to stop but he keeps ignoring me. I reach it out into cries, pleading for him. The crowd keeps pushing me back, letting him and The Woman dance together the very dances he used to do with me thrice a night when we were engaged.

“Will, don’t dance with her! Please, stop, Will! You’re my husband, Will- stop it! Listen to me, Will! Listen to your wife! Why won’t you listen to me, Will? Please, Will! DON’T DANCE WITH HER!” I screech.

I scream, but no one hears me. I begin to sob uselessly as the crowd applauds their dancing.

I woke up screaming. The lights flashed on, and I realized I was back in the Sanitorium. The others beside me assured me that I’m alright and nurses scrambled to check on me. I told them I had a nightmare about my old husband.

“Maybe some sleeping medicine should help…I’ll get the doctor,” one nurse offered.

“Don’t worry, Stella- your husband is dead, but he wouldn’t mind you remarrying. He’d want you to be happy and taken care of, I think” the lady next to me said. I sipped on my water as one nurse held my hand.

“You’re safe now, Mrs. Ransome. And you’re surrounded by us and everyone else- and you have a fiancée who adores you. All will be well, you’ll see…” she said.

▬▬ι══════════════ι▬▬

“Nightmares?” Harry asked on his next visit.

“Yes, about him. And about what happened,” I explained.

He would sit in the chair and squeeze my hand as a comfort. Outside, the snow was melting into the green grass and we were accompanied by birdsong.

“Can you tell me what happened…it doesn’t have to be all at once…but as much as you’re comfortable,” Harry offered.

So, forgetting our tea, I took both of Harry’s hands in mine. He looked at me kindly, his frown gentle.

So I told him everything about William.

I told Harry about how I met him. About the gardenia. About his proposal. The wedding. The marriage bed. The list.

Then the Serpent. The Woman. The Illness. The Dance. The Tree.

There was a pause as the sun began to shine through. It lit up on Harry and I could see the red streaks in his hair.

“I hardly know what to say, Stella…I only know you suffered immensely. No woman- no, no person should have to go through what you did.”

“Am I…pitiful to you?” I asked.

He shook his head.

“No…you’re even braver. You’re the strongest of them all, of all women, Stella. It makes me even more honored to be your husband and…”

He wiped off a tear with his sleeve and looked at me. I heard him sniffling.

“I promise you, I’ll be nothing like Reverend Ransome. I swear to you,” he promised.

My own eyes dried up and I tightened my jaw. A taste of fire was in my stomach. That thing that was so quiet and was now spewing forth after my years of silencing was taking hold.

“You remember what happened to William. If you’re unfaithful to me, Harold, I swear I will not hesitate to castrate you before I kill you!” I managed to say.

Harold raised his eyebrows and then slowly had a half smile.

“I must admit your fire in you makes me not only frightened and yet it burns me with a passion for you further!” he confessed.

“Which is it?" I asked.

“Both! My heart and my cock!" he admitted.

I let out a relaxed laugh. His thumbs rubbed over mine.

“Can I kiss you, Stella?”

“Yes.”

He gently pressed his lips to mine. I tasted the tea on his breath and felt his breath from his nose. It was…loving. Romantic. And I never felt safer. Or more loved. Relaxing into it, I put my arms around him.

He let go and then looked at me, eyes wide in wonder from that moment.

My arms were still around him, and I pulled him in again for another kiss. A deep one. A lover’s kiss. I felt his hands go to my back to press me closer. We held it for a while.

Once we let go, we smiled. He kissed my hand with the ring on it- skin on metal.

▬▬ι══════════════ι▬▬ I married Harold, my Harry, in April.

My symptoms felt mild with rarely a cough. My joy made me forget any weakness in my body. The crisp, bright springtime was all over with humming bees and flowers moving with the gentle breeze. Green and sunlight were everywhere when you walked outside.I looked outside with my father by my side again as the bells rang out. It was loud but endearing- the charming ring you wanted to drown in.

Exhaling, we entered the church. I passed members of our families and my children’s smiling faces. The chapel was filled with flowers.

My hair was done up and a nurse had put a couple of flowers in the updo. I was in white with puffed sleeves, a train, a veil, and a lovely set of pearls across my neck as a gift from Harry.

I smiled at him through the veil once we stood at the altar.

“God, Stella…” he leaned in to tell me in private.

“What?” I whispered.

“You look beautiful.”

"Thank you, Harry."

We both spoke with small voices, choked by happy tears through our vows. I put my laced gloves and hands in his and didn’t dare let go. I even heard his emphasis “In sickness and in health, forsaking all others” strongly.

Finally, the priest gave us our blessing, marking the sign of the cross.

“I now declare you as husband and wife- Harold and Stella Cavaradossi…”

He leaned to me- my husband! My new husband! How strange and exciting that struck me. Harry leaned to me and whispered, “I’ll make you the most Italian Englishwoman yet!”

That made me giggle as we began to walk together, hand in hand, out of the chapel.

Once we exited the church to the reception, he lifted my veil and kissed me tenderly.

Among our three cakes and bowl of wine, I was glad to meet more of the Cavaradossis. Harry had so many younger brothers and sisters as well as cousins and aunts and uncles that it made my head spin. Only his immediate family- his mother, sisters, and brothers could show up and the rest arrived later! But they all wished me well and good health and a good marriage. Joanna had her hair curled again and embraced me with a smile. James was delighted to find that Harold's mother brought him his own small chocolate cake for the reception. John himself helped clear the dishes with the nurses and doctors once the guests were done.

Harry helped me into a carriage driven by grey horses. With our things packed, we drove the few miles to the cottage they offered. The children waved as they met with their Aunt Edith, her stomach swelling with her long-awaited baby inside, to sleep back under her roof. One more week and they'd stay with Harold Cavaradossi- their new stepfather.

“They were kind to furnish everything- the tables, the bed, the chairs- even the plates,” Harold explained.

I smiled at him, and then looked down at our matching silver bands.

That evening, when we walked into the room, I realized it was the same kind of mattress used at the Sanatorium.

“Here- the best of the wines saved for tonight!” he announced.

He brought in the bottle, opened it easily, and poured us both generous glasses. As I began to sip mine and he gulp his down, I kept eyeing the bedroom.

“A hospital bed?” I wondered.

“They gave it on the grounds it would be where the marriage would…” he turned red “be consummated.”

“I…I understand…” I muttered, nodding in embarrassment.

The sun had sunk down to its slumber. Above was the black night and its sky filled with stars above our roof.

I undid my pretty dress, and my hair and managed to change into my nightgown. Once I removed the silk slippers, I saw Harry himself had changed. He then stood up and offered his hand. Smiling I accepted it. He pulled me up with a strength that made me gasp and he kissed me with gentle force and even a little tongue. I felt his hand creeping up my leg.

“Harry…” I began to giggle.

He paused, glancing down, and then back up.

“Are you feeling well, Stella? Do you need to rest?” he asked.

“Whatever for?”

He turned me around and embraced me from behind. I heard his voice, his breath hot on my neck.

“It’s my wedding night and I’d like to make love to my wife, is all…”

“I…I think I can. I’m sure I can…it’s been a while, but I can…” I spoke softly.

He kissed my neck as he rocked me back and forth in the embrace. He then turned before me.

“So is that a yes?” he asked.

“It's a yes,” I replied.

I tasted the flavor of the merlot, still fresh on his lips as he undid the buttons of my nightdress.

You understand I am a lady. I was not raised to speak in detail, much less publicly about the details of my private life, of my body.

I will say this- he was warm and embracing. He was passionate, yet tender, and gentle. I forgot how good it felt to even be intimate with a man. It was too long, far too long.

And if there is one thing I felt when we first coupled- or the many times we made love to each other- Harold and I, I have only one word I Can think of to describe it...

Bedding my new husband, Harry, was pure ecstasy.

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something-just-like-this22 · 2 years

Text

You don’t know her like I do - Drabble

https://youtu.be/6olPTdLcjv4

Word count 648

Warnings scared, fear, lots of emotions, pregnant but not together, friends with benefits relationship, pregnancy, miscariage, mention of bleeding, crying, implied sex, drinking maybe, i think thats it.

Kimber King x Boone Rivers

Best friend and Friends with benefits

She ain’t worth it” they keep telling me. But they don’t know what we’ve been through, she’s my best friend and I lost her.

months before

“Boone, can you come over after you get off work” was all I could say when his phone went to voicemail. This wasn’t news to share over the phone. I needed to tell him in person.

It took everything in me not to rush to the bathroom and throw up what was left in my stomach when I heard his pick up pull into the driveway.

“Hey” he said, opening the door letting himself in.

“Hey, I said, trying not to sound nervous.

“You okay?” He asked when I hugged him.

“Can we sit down and talk?” I ask.

“Yeah, of course” he said, starting to say something before deciding against it.

“I don’t know where to start so I’m just gonna say it”

“Okay” he said, getting more nervous.

“ I’m pregnant”

“You’re what?”

“ pregnant, with like a baby”

“That’s awesome! I didn’t know you were dating anyone, This is what you’ve always wanted isn’t it?

“Boone, I’m not dating anyone. I’ve only been with one guy”

“Oh,” then it clicked everything started to line up.

“So it’s?” He questioned

“Uh huh” I nodded my head.

“You mean?” He ask again.

“Yeah,”

“Oh boy” he said, starting to stress out.

“Boone, the baby is yours”

I lay in bed beside her, holding her as she lay on my shoulder, my hand over her belly. She hadn’t started to show yet. And we hadn’t told anyone. Not my parents, not hers.

Things had changed between us though, that line neither dared to cross had finally been crossed. Sure we’d crossed the line physically having friends with benefits situation, but neither of us dared cross the line emotionally telling the other how we felt deep down. I felt I was living my dream. My best friend, the girl I’d fallen in love with years ago, was laying in bed beside me, carrying my child. We were doing this together. Us against the world.

I was falling in love with both of them more every day.

I rubbed my hand across her belly. I love you little one, I whispered, I love you mama I said kissing her head.

Until one day about 3 weeks later when I got one of the worst phone calls I could ever receive.

“Boone, I’m bleeding I’m losing the baby”

I held her that night on her couch, as she cried.

2 weeks later

“Boone, I can’t do this anymore! She yelled at me, every time I see you all I feel is how I let you down, I couldn’t do the one thing my body was designed to do. I couldn’t carry our baby, I can’t do this. Boone I can’t keep pretending everything’s okay. I wish you would just hate me, I don’t understand why you don’t hate me.” She yelled, tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Kimber I couldn’t ever hate you, none of this was your fault, yes I loved our baby and I was excited but losing our baby doesn’t change the fact that I’m still in love with you.” I said, trying to convince my best friend to stay. But she stormed off slamming my screen door.

15 years and she gone, they keep telling me “she isn’t worth it” but she was my best friend, they don’t know what we’ve been through. They’ll never understand I went from living my dream to living through my nightmare. I went from laying in bed rubbing her belly, knowing she loved me and was carrying our baby to laying in bed knowing she was gone and I would never meet our baby on this earth.

“They’ll never know here like I do

#kbrivers #kimberking #boonerivers #my otp #kbriversotp #orginal art #orginal character #my words #my work #Texas #somethingjustlikethis22

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ceruleanchillin · 3 years

Text

5 Day Stay

| Or, Angel down bad for a week |

Angel x F!Reader

Warnings: language, infidelity, Angst (?), lil bit chili spice at the end

Mon:

Angel felt he was too young to consistently feel so bone-tired, yet that’s how his day had been ending for weeks now. Sometimes it was all he could do to get off his bike and make it to the door, only to have to rest his head against it to prepare to make it to the couch and collapse.

Tonight was one of those nights, and he wanted to be dead to the world until it dragged him back into it.

It was the smell of mixed spices that hit him first. It felt like he was in suspended animation, and slowly being released as different things started to register to him.

His TV was on, someone was rummaging through his kitchen, and music played faintly from his desk. Thinking back to the last time an unwanted guest was in his kitchen, he placed a hand on the holstered knife fastened to his back.

The fridge door closed, and you appeared in the window, eyes focused intently on whatever you were cooking on the stove.

He exhaled, feeling like complete shit. It only spoke to how weary his mind was that he could forget you were staying with him for the next week. Especially after the conversation that led to it.

“I don’t know Angel…really I can afford a motel for a few days.”

“Here? Rusted-through pipes will be the last thing your landlord is worried about when you bring back bedbugs and shit.”

Your eyes had widened at that, but still you brought up the thing that had been chained to your hesitation. “I mean….do you think it’s ok to do this? After we…Nails..Ang-“

He remembered a flash of irritation, more so at himself than you, when you said that. “Yes querida, fuck. If you’re so scared, I most likely won’t even be there the way things are going. Nails is out of town til’ next weekend…”

“Relax Ignacio.” you had cut your eyes at him, and he’d felt his dick jump like it did whenever you gave him attitude. “I’m just not trying to be a problem.”

Your voice calling his name brought him to the present. He caught the last part of your statement, that you didn’t know he’d be back.

“Yeah, we got in earlier than expected.”

“While you’re standing there like a weirdo, let me shame you real quick. How does a man in his thirties still have the kitchen of a frat boy?” You leaned on the sill of the divider. “You’re lucky I already knew you were sad in the kitchen. I had to bring my own tagine.”

He stepped into the kitchen, his stomach coming alive with interest. “One, I don’t know what that is, two, I can’t help it if the kitchen isn’t my preferred room of work.”

He peeked over your shoulder, but the unique pot kept him from seeing what you were making.

“Neither is the bedroom, unless that work is piling up dirty laundry.” you stuck your tongue out at him and turned back to your simmering dish.

“Ha ha. Dinner and a show, she does it all folks!” he collapsed at the table, the day catching back up with him. “Should put your ass on the club’s payroll. End the cashflow problem real quick.”

You turned to him, concern etched on your face. “I heard from Hank about that…sorry. I know now isn’t a great time for that at all.”

Things got awkward like they always did when you referenced the recent changes of his life. He wasn’t sad about getting another chance at fatherhood, this one more tangible than the last. However, he wasn’t entirely sold on everything he’d accepted along with it, and he was pretty sure you at least suspected that. It threw the previously comfortable confusion that was your relationship off track when it was touched on.

“No, it’s not.” was all he could manage.

It was quiet for a beat, the simmering of the food and quiet Neo Soul the only sounds.

“Well,” you started, turning off the burner. “At least you don’t have to eat like a ‘we got food at the house’ meme for once.”

He laughed, a genuine and needed laugh. “Ok, you know what? Keep talking about my pantry stocking skills, and I might take it personally.”

The rest of his night went that way. Anytime you and Angel got together, things were just…easy…better. You spent the evening eating in front of the TV (Angel getting all the way to thirds for what turned out to be olive chicken and roasted potatoes), trading jokes, and going over the finer points of Golden Girls. Angel learned you took it very seriously, and mocked you for being “old”.

It wasn’t until you were nodding off, and he was left with his own thoughts, that he realized he hadn’t enjoyed coming home this much since he moved in.

Tues:

Angel had dreamed he’d been back in his childhood home, but as a grown man. There was music coming from his parent’s room, and when he got to the doorway, his mom was at her dressing table. She hummed along to the soulful seventies music and smiled at him from the mirror. She said something, but he couldn’t make it out, and woke up in the frustration.

He jerked up from his position on his stomach, and slowly came to. With a grunt he wiped his hand down his face, glancing at his phone to find it was six in the afternoon.

It then occurred to him the music wasn’t just in his dream, it was coming from his bathroom. He got off the couch and followed the sound.

“Hey coma head.” you grinned at him from where you were doing your makeup.

He shook his head, trying to let go of the last vestiges of the dream, and how eerie the scene before him was.

He focused instead on the nightmare of products and alien looking tools surrounding you.

He kind of liked the mess, even if he couldn’t see the counter anymore.

“Hey hurricane Ulta.”

You made a face that was a cross between being amused and suspicious. “You sleep in your jeans and buy your shirts in pack form. Don’t act like you know what that is.”

He made a face of mock offense. “That’s so classist.”

This time you paused completely in you what you were doing and twisted your body to meet him. “Uh oh…let me find out you’re actually learning something from EZ.”

“Angel Reyes can know something about something, damn.”

You laughed, lowering your hands from where you’d been lining your eyes to avoid a mistake. “I’m only teasing you Angel Reyes.”

“Looks like you plan on teasing more than me. Some clown is gonna get his hopes and tiny dick up for nothing.”

“There’s this new club in the city that Belinda’s getting us into. It’s bad luck to buy your own drinks on the first night at a new place.” you adjusted the bodycon mini-dress for emphasis. “You doing anything?”

“Club shit.” he started picking through the products, sniffing them every so often. “Then I think I’ve got a call with Nails at some point.”

“You think?” you popped his hands when he got too close to the good stuff, or the things you were using currently.

“Yeah..I think.” he shrugged, only realizing how short he sounded when you winced.

He didn’t know why he got so annoyed when she was brought up around you. He wasn’t like that with anyone else, and he knew you were only trying to support his incoming changes.

“Ok..”

Awkward silence settled in before he found the words to break it.

“Why do you wanna know? You want me to be that clown?”

“Never.” you pinched his cheek, tone pure saccharine jest.

He muttered in Spanish, stepping around you to the toilet.

“Angel!” you exclaimed.

“What?! It’s my bathroom, I have to piss.”

“You better never make me angry Reyes, I could end your whole Casanova game with ease."

Wed:

“You holding on a little tight there mami!” Angel called over his shoulder with a laugh. “You said go fast."

“Shut up!” you giggled, but he wasn’t lying.

You’d asked Angel to take you to work on his bike since even though you spent so much time with bikers, you hardly got to ride one. You were going to the same place anyways. He had been all too happy to shake up his commute, but your speed challenge took it over the top.

He didn’t know how you were up so early, he personally felt like the bags under his eyes were like a PEZ dispenser. You’d gotten in at two am, and still got up with him at eight.

He loved watching you in the morning, you managed to be cheerful without being obnoxious, and it worked better than coffee for him.

He loved how much he was learning about you.

As he pulled onto the street beside the cafe you’d asked him to stop at, he felt your arms uncoil from around him. He may have pretended to shift just to make you pause and hold him a few seconds longer, but he wasn’t going to acknowledge that.

“I didn’t scream, and I’m not shaking, so you still have to buy my breakfast.” You unclipped your helmet, grinning the whole time.

You looked so pretty to him, with the sun hitting your eyes and hair just right. He could catch you at just the right moment, and you’d look so gorgeous, he struggled to believe you were real.

He cleared his throat, afraid his voice would crack if he didn’t. “Fair enough, come break my pockets then.”

You laughed, squeezing his chin and pointing out his pout. “You don’t even have to tell me once sir, I know my worth.”

Once inside, he trailed after you to the counter, using your head like an arm rest when you reached it. “That’s good.”

“Boy!” You swatted his hand away, and it was his turn to laugh at your adorable pout.

“New bet,” he stepped around you while the customer ahead of you wrapped up. “If I get your entire order just right, you buy lunch.”

“Deal.” you leaned on the counter, eyebrow raised at him in challenge.

Angel knew the best part of his day would be watching your expression go from smug to shocked out of the corner of his eye. He nailed every pastry, the iced coffee, and their preparation with ease.

The simultaneously impressed and amused barista looked to you for confirmation. She got a shocked nod in response.

“I know my worth too mama, so don’t skimp on lunch.”

“Fair enough.” You shook off your shock as you repeated his earlier words and shrugged. “Can’t complain I guess. I trained my work husband too well.”

He scoffed loudly, and the two of you went back to swapping smart ass barbs while he tried to ignore the lingering dip his stomach did when referred to him as “husband”.

Thurs:

Angel was a grown man, with years of grown man experience, yet he was sitting on the edge of his bed feeling like a teenager again.

The end of your stay was nearing, and every time he thought about you going back home, he felt weird. He was pretty sure that’s why he’d been a little snappy and annoyed easily at the club the past couple days. He just wasn’t ready to delve into that too much.

Regardless, he had to admit you had some growing effect over him. All morning, while he should’ve been resting and preparing for a charter visit, he was fighting off hard-ons thanks to you.

“Can I borrow your kitchen for the day Angel?” He mimicked your voice in a nasally mocking tone. “I’ll save you some when I’m done baking.”

He’d thought nothing of it when you asked the night before. Really didn’t even feel like you had to at that point.

He realized why when he saw that the desserts you were making for your friend’s brunch were elaborate as hell. The effort took all your attention, and unfortunately for him, his too.

You were baking a lot more than dessert and didn’t even know it.

Now he was hiding in his room, fighting off arousal he knew wasn’t appropriate. You weren’t his and he wasn’t yours.

That didn’t change the fact that you in a short silk lounge set, singing in French (how the hell did you know French?), doing domestic things in his home, did it for him.

He ran a hand over his hair, still damp from his cold shower, and forced himself to finish getting dressed. He had to be ready to face a room of dangerous bikers and prove his patched in worth. He couldn’t be thinking of weird little fantasies and parallels to his parent’s marriage.

He must’ve zoned out again, because you startled him enough to almost make him hit his wardrobe.

“Oh my god Angel try this! I think I did magic.” You excitedly thrust a red cookie his way.

Angel took the offered treat, and found it was a red velvet cookie. “It’s fucking good mi dulce.”

“Really?” You looked so hopeful, so beautiful, that he would’ve lied if the situation called for it.

“Yes, but you know you kill it in the kitchen.” He turned away to put on the flannel he’d fished out.

Now you were in his personal space, smelling amazing, and all his senses were under attack. He couldn’t trust Angel jr. at the moment.

“Baking is different. It’s a whole thing for me...I go all in.”

“I noticed your little Broadway production in my kitchen.” He kneeled down, pretending to look for his shoes as something to do while you were there.

“Don’t shame me.” You pressed your foot into his back, gently pushing him. “It makes for better results.”

‘shit.’ He cursed mentally at the contact.

Luckily, he heard you turn to leave the room. “Oh, EZ said to tell you to hurry up or pick up your phone.”

He rose up once you were gone and checked his phone. Sure enough, he had several missed calls and texts from Gilly, Coco, and EZ. He cursed aloud this time and finished getting ready, determined not to get distracted again.

Of course, his boys having to physically come in and get him when he did just that destroyed that promise.

Fri:

It had come down to the last night of your stay with him, and what he thought was a favor to a good friend, turned out to be more for his benefit.

The hell with the club seemed so far away when he was home now, and he’d laughed more times that week than he had the previous few months total.

Tonight though… Tonight had him so in his head he didn’t know if he was coming or going.

You, sensing something was going on with him, had invited EZ and Felipe to dinner. He didn’t know how you got the latter to agree, his dad had never even been in his home before, but you did it. It went over a hell of a lot better than the last time they tried it too.

The missteps that reared their head when his family tried to talk to each other at length were mitigated by you. You were the perfect buffer, able to get them to engage with you and then each other.

He saw his family in an unfamiliar, but favorable light. His father was actually enjoying his time with him in his house. He knew that night wouldn’t have happened if not for you.

Now, as he distractedly dried the dishes you’d washed, listening to you hit all of the high notes in Loving You, it hit him.

‘She should be my wife’ the thought came so quick, and was so loud he almost jumped, confused if it came from him or someone else.

“Hey dishwasher-less!” you nudged him with your hip. “Move those hands.”

“Why can’t we be a thing?” he blurted.

You dropped the silverware you’d been washing, eyes wide and focused on him. “Um..excuse m-…what?”

He knew that wasn’t the most tactful way to introduce his thoughts to you, but it was his way. Fuck…he didn’t even understand them fully himself.

“You heard me querida,” he put the dish down on the counter, turning to you. “When I stayed with you that weekend that my head was all fucked up-“

“Angel.” your tone made it a warning, but he kept going. He was never afraid of a challenge.

“I was inside you so much that weekend I forgot that’s not how I came in this world. I can’t believe I’m saying it out loud, but I felt home cause I was with you-”

“Stop it!” you hit the sink, rattling the contents.

“Fuck that!” he shouted back, startling you both. He stayed silent for a moment before speaking in a calmer tone. “Fuck that. Why can’t we talk about it? Why couldn’t we talk about it then?”

You didn’t say anything, but he saw your chest heaving with adrenaline, and realized you were just as affected by the conversation as he was.

“You just decided it didn’t matter and put it in this space we can’t touch now. It’s all fucked up!”

“Because,” you hissed. “If you remember, it was all over that Adelita chick, and I don’t know what kind of hold she has or had over you, but it was deep.”

He cringed at that, and turned his attention to the light fixture over your head, unable to meet your heated gaze.

“Whatever feelings I have for you Angel, I put them away in a place where I can still be your friend and keep things in perspective.”

“Feelings you have for me?” he latched on to the lack of past tense, hopeful.

You inhaled sharply. “You are having a baby and just got engaged. What is wrong with you?”

“Nothing..I mean a lot, but nothing to do with this. I know-“

“I know,” you pushed away from the sink and reached up to cup his cheeks. “That you’re scared Angel. You’re scared, because you’re gonna take two steps you’ve never taken before at once, and you’re trying to sabotage it.”

He shook his head, taking your hands from his face and holding them tightly in his own. “No..mi dulce, no. I’ve been struggling with this all week, longer if I’m being honest. Tonight sealed it.”

You snorted humorlessly, looking around the kitchen as if something in the room would help you get through to him. “I cook you some big boy meals, and treat your speakers to some musical taste, and you’re ready for vows?”

“Don’t put this all on me. Tell me you don’t feel it. Right here and now, to my face.”

He watched your expression soften, and let you put one hand back on his face, your thumb gently stroking his cheek. “Ok, I can’t do that, but I also can’t just fall into a situation with you either.”

He scoffed and shook his head. “We both know we didn’t just fall into anything. We sat here and let it build and didn’t say shit, and now I have to. This week just made it too real not to.”

He placed his forehead to yours, his own hands cupping your face. “Please…”

He watched you have an internal battle by your changing features before you finally leaned into him. The moment you did, his lips were on yours.

He knew it was more than just a kiss a few seconds in. Everything he’d felt that the previous week was alive and confirmed between you too. He could feel you telling him you had moments like his own.

He palmed your thighs under your sundress before grasping them tightly and lifting you up. He placed you on the counter while you two separated for air. Your chests heaved in unison, and neither of you had to say you wanted the other touching you again before it happened.

He gripped your hair, tilting your head back for access to your neck. The smell of vanilla and cocoa butter surrounded him as he worked his mark all over your skin.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, and you pressed yourself against his jeans.

He hated he couldn’t feel the heat he knew was emitting from your core through the thick material of his jeans, and slid his other hand up your thigh to your panties.

Your entire body twitched when he ran his fingers over you through the thin cloth. It wasn’t just hot it was soaked.

“You need me that bad mami?” he pulled away from your neck, satisfied with his work, and beginning to work at his jeans.

“And quick.” you breathed into his ear, your tone and the sensation making him shudder.

The ache against his jeans didn’t need to be told twice to find its way into your heat. He slid your panties to side and pressed his thumb against you. You jumped, whimpering your need again, and he pulled your panties way from you.

You’d gotten them around one ankle before he was inside of you, and they were no longer your focus.

You clung to each other so tightly there’d be evidence on both of you.

In the quiet, he wondered if your mind was racing with the same thoughts that his was. What now? How do we get this again?

He pressed kisses to your cheek just as he started to move. You inhaled, your nails sliding down his back. Not quite catching the skin, but enough to set him on fire all the same.

He mapped out a rhythm by your whimpers and how you grasped at him until he crafted the right one.

This was the conversation he’d needed. Every thrust from him, every cry from you, every bit of give and take to heighten the other’s pleasure. The two of you were admitting that everything that was between you was deeper, realer than you’d wanted to admit. He loved you, and you loved him, and you were engraving that on one another.

The flirtation, the way you could be yourselves around each other, the heatless jabs. Good friends was always a ruse.

Your face was buried in his neck, and when he felt dampness he knew came from your tears, he hiked your legs higher, moving deeper.

You cried out so loudly it echoed in the kitchen, drowning out the soft crooning of an eighties songstress.

“I know baby, I feel it too.” his voice was choked by the threat of tears of his own.

He’d never been here before. Not with Adelita, not even close with Nails. He was terrified. Terrified for it to end because he never felt so good. Terrified for it to end because it might never happen again.

“Angel..” your voice sounded so small, but it was strong enough to anchor him back with you. “I’m close, I’m so close.”

“Let go,” he encouraged. “Let me have it querida.”

Your body seized up with your release, his name the only thing he caught in your unintelligible babble.

You clenched up repeatedly in the aftershocks, and that drug him over the edge with you, biting your shoulder.

His vision tunneled, pinpricks of pleasure traveling up and down his spine. Your hands smoothed up and down the area, and he realized it was because he was shuddering.

He gripped the counter for support, pulling back slowly. He was searching for a way to ask if he’d changed your mind, but the act hadn’t made words for his thoughts any easier to find.

It didn’t matter, before he could even speak you stopped him. Your eyes were glazed over with tears that had nothing to do with pleasure this time.

“That was all that I can give you Angel. It’s not right, none of this is, but it’s all I can give you.”

AN:

Am I the only one who wishes she had reference photos for their home/club layouts? Lol, it’s such a weird non-factor thing, but still. From memory, I’m pretty sure Angel only has one bedroom though.

No shade, no hate but this was partially inspired by how over Nails Angel looked when she was putting her back into it….🥴

I played with a few canon-timeline things + knocked the dust off my smut writing ability (I’m going under my humiliation rock now, no calls plz)

#angel reyes x reader #angel reyes #mayans mc #mayans imagine #reader insert

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luvnami · 3 years

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𝐎𝐜𝐞𝐚𝐧 (here) | 𝐖𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐬 | 𝐄𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 | 𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 - This is my entry for @jjkmag Summer Collab! It’s my first long fic in a while but I had a lot of fun writing this (that isn’t to say I think it’s very good. I hope the plot/finality was pulled off decently ok lol). I hope you enjoy it! I chose the prompt 'coming of age', though there are definitely scenes where the other prompts were present as well. Reblogs, comments, shares and likes are really appreciated!!

𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐚 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 - @getousuguruwife @amjustagirl @aliteama

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 - Amnesia, Memory loss, Blood, Mild gore, Death, Blood loss, Bullying, Mild Racism (only in the first part), Corpses, Food, Manga spoilers, Pre-canon and canon compliant to a certain extent, Nightmares

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - Nanami Kento's life has been... Good, bad, and everything in between. He (and many others) thinks he's mature, independent, the definition of what a proper adult should be like. But really, the only way he's made it this far is because you've been holding his hand the entire time.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 6.4k

The first memory Nanami has of you sits in a blurry haze at the back of his mind.

You’re probably four or five years old at best, squatting by a puddle in the empty kindergarten playground. Nanami wonders what made him waddle over to you that warm afternoon.

His shoes, scribbled with ugly caricatures in marker, carry him to the other side of the puddle. A shadow cast by a plastic slide slices your features neatly in half like a Greek theatre mask. Nanami doesn’t speak a word to you as he stares at your chubby fingers that push a fallen leaf around in the water as the surface ripples silently.

You look up at Nanami. He’s an odd child, excluded by the other kindergarteners because of how quiet and strange he is. Nanami’s blond hair is abnormal to the immature local Japanese children. They knee the back of his legs while calling him names like ‘banana-gaijin!’ and making fun of his fancy leather shoes.

“Do you wanna play with me?”

Nanami wonders if the words you speak to him are from your heart or something constructed from a plan to bully him again.

“My mama taught me how to make boats with leaves. See?” You point to the puddle. “We can race them.”

Nanami carefully selects a leaf off of the playground’s floor. It’s still green, freshly fallen from its branch. You grin toothily, your eyes sparkling.

“That’s a perfect leaf!” you declare.

Nanami thinks he wants to play with you forever.

He follows you around in school like a lost puppy after that, clutching his hands nervously when you stand up to the children who bully him. Nanami wonders if you’ll ever turn your back on him. He arrives earlier than you every morning and hurriedly scrubs at your table with his handkerchief to get rid of nasty words and obscene drawings, heart thumping against his cotton polo. When his mother asks him why his new handkerchief is so dirty, he remains silent and grips the hem of his shirt tightly.

Children are children; Nanami learns. Afraid of abnormalities, they defend their right to innocence and ego with harsh words and various schemes. He learns to ignore the whispers behind his back. What he can’t disregard, though, is when they lash out at you.

They jeer when you trip during P.E. classes and bump into you on purpose when you carry your lunch tray. You pretend that it doesn’t hurt when Nanami holds your hand gently and leads you to the nurse’s office with scraped knees, hiccuping and swiping at your eyes roughly.

He wonders why you don’t take the easy way out and just stop being friends with him. What’s wrong with you? You hold him tightly, a bundle of thorns, in your soft hands and pretend that you’re not bleeding.

“Ken-chan?” you sniffle.

He turns.

“You’re my best friend, right?”

Nanami gulps. He doesn’t question why you cry on graduation day, bidding your final farewell to him with vague promises of meeting in the same elementary school. Something in his chest doesn’t sit right; the kind of feeling when his mother threw out his old stuffed toys after she deemed him too old for them anymore.

He watches you grow smaller and smaller in the rear window of his family car till you’re the size of an ant, his knees digging into the leather seats.

“Sit down, Kento,” his father chides.

Nanami ignores him. He watches you wave your hand in the air as the car turns around the corner and lurches into the seat.

☆*: .｡.

Nanami’s genuinely surprised when he finds out that his assigned seat is right next to you on the first day of elementary school. You’re no different, mouth wide open in an ‘o’ as you stare at him.“Ken-chan!”

You almost yell, and Nanami shushes you as his face heats up. He finds out that your mothers had conspired to put the both of you into the same school. He can’t tell if that’s a good or bad thing just yet, but peace settles into his chest the same way the wings of a bird return to its sides after flight when you giggle at his flustered expression.

Through nine years of elementary and junior high school together, Nanami learns that you always arrange the tips of your pencils to face the right side of your pencil box, and you keep the torn bits of movie tickets shoved into your bedside drawer. You find that Nanami has a knack for dry humour — he’s blunt at every moment possible (which caused much distress after he talked back to a teacher that one time) and can usually be bribed for any favour as long as you pay him in food.

What the both of you find oddly shocking, though, is that no one else can see the creatures that swim through walls and perch in dark corners of the school.

They make you sweat whenever they get too close, bulbous eyes and strange bodies twisting in ways that shouldn’t be physically possible. Sometimes they make noises, whispering or coaxing or shrieking or crying in broken sentences.

Nanami learns to treat them as background noise. You, on the other hand, find that a little more complicated. Sometimes you latch onto him when one brushes against your arm, squeaking and swatting at them in an attempt to chase them away.

“They’re so gross!” you’d whine, pressing yourself even closer to Nanami. “Did you see that one in the gym yesterday? It had tentacles!”

In cases like this, the blond clears his throat and ignores you, averting his gaze. He doesn’t admit to anyone, not even himself, that the warmth of your skin through your uniform makes his heart skip a beat. You’ve grown so close to him that you even know that Nanami sleeps with Doraemon pajamas (absolutely, abhorrently embarrassing. He made his mother throw them out the night after you came over for a sleepover). It was inevitable for him to develop feelings.

Nanami shoves his feelings below a lid and sits on top of it, keeping them under lock and key. He’s sure this is just something to do with puppy love or ‘infatuations’ that are underlined in the puberty print-outs the school distributed, alongside scientific diagrams of genitals that the boys in his class giggle at.

Being friends is enough. Or so he thinks, anyway.

☆*: .｡.

It’s a Friday evening when the sky is dark, and street lights flicker in the distance. Nanami munches away on melon bread from a convenience store while you sip on a carton of juice. Your clubs had ended late today, so the sun was down by the time you left school.

“How’s the bread?” you ask, slurping up the last drops of your drink.

Nanami chews and swallows while you dab at your mouth with a yellow cotton handkerchief.

“It’s okay. Not as good as a bakery’s, though. Kinda stale.”

He crumples the plastic packaging in his hand and sticks it into his pocket, planning to dispose of it later. The both of you round the corner to the bus stop, and your feet fall still. A large curse sits in the middle of the road.

Numerous cars are crumpled like drink cans, smoke, and gasoline leaking onto the streets. There’s blood. Too much blood, in fact, that they seem like puddles of rain on the dark tarmac. Your juice box drops from your hand.

The curse turns to you, its teeth split vertically down the centre of what constitutes a face. Multiple eyes run down the length of its engorged body where various hands and feet stick out at random parts.

“Blood… Blood…” it moans in a cryptic voice.

Nanami stands with his feet frozen to the ground, eyes wide in horror. His knuckles turn white as he grips his school bag. Run, run, run! He screams internally, but his limbs don’t listen to him. The curse slides over the road towards him, slipping through the blood easily.

“Give me… Your blood…”

A part of the curse’s body bubbles up into a large hand. It swings itself back before throwing its newly created appendage towards Nanami. RUN RUN RUN! His legs don’t move. He squeezes his eyes shut, awaiting the impact. Except that it doesn’t hit him. Nothing hurts, except the shrill scream that pierces his ears. Nanami’s eyes snap open in horror.

“Kento!” you yell, dangling upside down as the curse pulls you towards its mouth.

Your school bag lays on the ground below, books scattered as their pages turn red.

“Run!”

Nanami drops everything as he scrambles towards you, tripping over his own two feet and landing face-first in the blood. His hands and knees sting. He shoves himself and gets up with his teeth clenched. You kick your feet in the air in a poor attempt to escape the curse’s grip but to no avail. Another groan is squeezed out of you as the curse opens its mouth, the foul stench of rotting bodies engulfing you.

“Run, Kento!” you plead.

How can he turn his back on you? Sweat drips down his forehead as Nanami pulls his hand back. The adrenaline that rushes through his blood clears in a split-second moment of raw emotion; anger, disappointment, confusion, sadness. A tingling sort of energy floods his body, and Nanami takes a sharp breath of air. He sees something like a ruler — a line divided equally with ten markings, the seventh one crossed out. His fist connects with it.

The curse lets out a weak moan of pain, shaking you around as it recoils from Nanami’s hit. It’s not much, just a surface injury at most. Nanami’s limbs tremble with exertion. One more time, again and again, until you’re safe-

A thick, gross liquid engulfs Nanami as the curse explodes in front of his very eyes. He coughs, running a slimy hand over his face. It smells like death.

“Woah! You put too much into that again, Satoru.”

“Shut up!”

Nanami looks up as he hears footsteps move towards him, the quiet splashing of blood beneath shoes.

“Ugh, this place is so gross.”

“You okay there, kiddo?”

Nanami looks up to find a male with his hair pulled back into a bun staring at him. Behind him is a white-haired teenager with sunglasses (strange, hasn’t the sun already gone down?) and an imposing-looking man.

Where are you?

Nanami glances around frantically amidst the dead bodies that lie on the ground. Not you, not you, not- A tiny sliver of hope slips into his heart when he spots your uniform, and he stumbles over.

“Woah! Slow down!”

He calls out your name, slipping and collapsing onto his knees. Your eyes are closed, and a wound on your head oozes blood. A young girl with short hair reaches out to touch you, but Nanami pulls you into his chest, his eyes wide.

“Don’t,” he whispers.

His head spins. Are these good people? How did they just destroy that big monster? He hadn’t even seen them coming. Were they going to hurt you?

“Calm down, man! We’re good guys.”

“No one’s going to trust you when you say that, Satoru.”

The girl stares at Nanami.

“I’ll take care of your injuries. Can you let me see them, please?”

He relaxes. His grip on you loosens, and the girl feels for your pulse, nodding in affirmation.

“Alive.”

Nanami breathes a sigh of relief. At this realisation, his body begins to tremble like a leaf in the wind. He digs his nails into his palms but still they quiver. His heart pounds in his chest and he struggles to take a deep breath, exhaustion overtaking him.

“Hey, you okay?”

His eyes fall shut.

☆*: .｡.

Nanami finds out over a hot cup of tea that those monsters are called curses, and not everyone can see them.

“Lucky you!” Gojo chimes in.

Lucky? His face wrinkles in despair and Getou laughs so loud at his reaction that he has to step out of the room.

Nanami had sustained minor injuries — nothing beyond a few scrapes and some trauma. You were fine for the most part. After hitting your head on the ground, you remained unconscious for a few more days after Nanami had woken up. You were covered in a few bruises, but otherwise alright.

Nanami was infinitely thankful for that

Yaga tells him that he has enough aptitude to become a full-fledged sorcerer. The school he teaches at is called Jujutsu High and is located on the outskirts of Tokyo. Since he’s in his final year of junior high, why not give it a thought if he wants to join them? Nanami holds Yaga’s name card numbly.

He looks up at Yaga, only one objective clear in his mind. He doesn’t want to see you hurt any longer.

“Will you teach me how to exorcise curses?” he asks.

Gojo laughs outrightly and Geto snorts. Yaga gives him a confident smile, clapping Nanami on the shoulder (he doesn’t quite like that, but he overlooks it for now).

“You can count on that.”

☆*: .｡.

Nanami’s a little apprehensive about entering Jujutsu High, especially when you decide to enrol as well. Given the ability to see curses, you were adamant about learning to help others with this ability you were gifted with. He relented and sulked for the rest of the day until you gave him a cup of pudding.

The first day Nanami and you enter Jujutsu Tech, you meet a wide-eyed boy named Haibara Yu. He’s overly optimistic and passionate — precisely the kind of person that Nanami tires of interacting with. In fact, the very first thing Haibara says upon meeting the both of you irritates him.

“Woah! Blondie, are you from an emo band or something? Your hair really matches the vibe!” Haibara had gasped.

You struggled to suppress your giggles, biting on your lower lip as you turned to the side. Nanami, on the other hand, didn’t find it quite as funny.

“No, I’m not. Nice to meet you too,” he replied monotonously.

It takes all of the following month for Nanami to get used to Haibara’s eccentricities. He always does his best during training, mingles enthusiastically with the upperclassmen and chows down on at least two bowls of rice during break time. The most annoying part about him is how Haibara seems to get along so well with you.

You laugh too loudly for Nanami’s liking at his jokes, squeeze in between Haibara and him (brushing shoulders with the both of them! Seriously!) when they’re standing together just to listen in on Haibara’s monologuing, and sometimes even end up sparring with him instead of Nanami.

The blond curses that there is an odd number of first years and peers in the mirror after his shower as he wonders what he would look like with a black bowl cut. He even tries to finish more than one serving of ginger pork on one particular day and gets sent to the school nurse for a tummy ache.

Though, the three of you have chemistry that works out when fighting curses. Nanami is the primary damage dealer of the group, while you learn how to provide support with Haibara and create openings for Nanami to attack. So on your first ‘real group mission’ assigned to you by Yaga, you can’t help but set off with overflowing excitement.

It isn’t often that you have the opportunity to step outside of Jujutsu High on your own without supervision. Even on weekends, you’re usually expected to train or study. The sun shines warmly down upon the streets of Asakusa, and tourists and locals alike swarm the city area.

“Hey! We should totally give Sensou-ji Temple a visit later!” Haibara suggests, pumping his fist in the air.

“We’re not here to sightsee,” Nanami sighs.

“That’s what you said the last time we went to Okinawa, and guess what, Nanamin! We didn’t even get to try their sushi!”

“Yeah, and you forgot to bring back souvenirs for me, Ken-chan,” you chime in.

“I told you to stop adding -chan to my name.”

“Why not? Doesn’t it sound cute?”

“Mhm!”

Haibara nods furiously. Nanami ignores the both of you with a sigh. He slings a bag containing his sword over his shoulder once more as the crowd barely makes space for you to move through.

“We can’t take too long,” he relents.

The cheers and high-fives that you and Haibara give each other make a vein bulge on Nanami’s temple. He tries not to read too much into the way you immediately begin discussing what places to visit and eat at with Haibara — didn’t you care for his opinion? He shakes his head and increases his pace, leaving the both of you behind.

Nanami ignores the cries of ‘Ken-chan!’ and ‘Nanamin!’ that ring out through the crowd. Whatever. If you want to be with Haibara, then Nanami will gladly get out of the way for you. He drags his feet on the pavement and settles for a cup of iced tea in a nearby cafe gloomily.

What Nanami is doing is… childish. He knows, at the very least, that he should be happy the both of you have met a nice new friend. But he can’t help the jealousy that rises in his chest like smoke in a chimney when he sees you cling onto Haibara the same way you used to do to him.

Was Haibara nicer, more good-looking, stronger, funnier, gentler, better than every single trait in Nanami combined? You no longer ask Nanami how he slept the previous night, instead running over to Haibara and greeting him cheerily. Forget about how you used to come over to Nanami’s house to study after school — you and Haibara disappear to who knows where after training everyday.

He bites down on his straw. The bitter taste of a lemon seed fills his mouth and Nanami spits it out onto a napkin with more force than necessary. He takes a deep breath. He should make things clear to you, then, and let you know how he feels about you. To him, it sounds a little like love.

Nanami’s face flushes with embarrassment. Love is… Love isn’t this. It definitely isn’t getting jealous over your relationships with other people, nor is it forcing you to accept his feelings out of spite. He finishes the last bit of his iced tea, the straw making a gurgling noise as it fails to suck up any more liquid. He leaves his money by the counter and walks back outside, returning his heart back to its safe, clicking the lock shut once more. His shoulders sag as he lets out a pent-up sigh.

Nanami squints at his phone. The golden sunlight makes it difficult to read his messages, but he manages to pick out four missed calls from you and a hundred text messages from Haibara. His blood runs cold when he scrolls to the last text that he received.

Haibara Yu, 4.25p.m.: curse help 6 cho

It’s currently 4.35p.m. 6-chome is a 15 minutes walk away, five minutes if he sprints fast enough. Nanami hopes that you’re okay, that Haibara has enough sense to call for other back-up or avoid the curse.

Nanami’s feet pound under him as he shoves his way through the crowds, earning distasteful looks and swears. He doesn’t care. Not when you and Haibara are facing a possible grade 2 curse alone, and not when it’s because of Nanami’s irresponsibility and useless emotions that had caused the three of you to be separated.

His breath comes quick and hard and his thighs burn, screaming for relief. He makes a sharp turn and almost crashes into a bicycle.

“Watch where you’re going!” an angry housewife yells, but her words fall on deaf ears.

Just a little more, he begs.

Nanami hears the fighting before he sees it. The sound of metal meeting metal and the roar of the curse sound uncharacteristically comforting to him as he draws his sword, racing to bear a fighting stance.

But he’s too late.

“Yu!” you cry out as Haibara crumples onto the ground.

His eyes meet Nanami’s. His uniform is tattered, face bearing wounds and his right arm is bent at an unnatural shape, almost like a knotted tree branch. You seem relatively unhurt, although your breathing is laboured.

“Kento,” Haibara wheezes.

Nanami’s feet don’t move. His chest heaves, perspiration pouring down his face and drenching his uniform. The grip on his sword slips ever so slightly. The curse stands at the end of a ruined district. You aren’t trained to fight in such close quarters, or reduce the number of casualties to a bare minimum.

And Nanami hadn’t been here to provide damage to exorcise it.

“Who are you? Another small fry?” the curse scoffs.

It takes the body of a geisha, dressed in luxurious robes that whip about in the air. Consciousness? This isn’t a grade 2 by any means — it’s a special grade curse. The will to fight slips out of Nanami like water from a cup, trickling from the top of his head to the tips of his toes.

“Haibara!” Nanami shouts.

The male gives Nanami one last smile from where he is.

“You’ve got it from here,” he whispers, lips barely moving.

The geisha stretches out its hand, a portion of its obi moving along with it. You and Nanami watch in horror as Haibara’s head is neatly decapitated from his body. His blood drips off of the ends of the robes as the curse cackles, his head rolling to a stop as his half-closed eyes stare up at Nanami like a dead fish’s.

“You think you can beat me? Look at your little friend!”

Fury rushes into Nanami like a wave meeting the shore.

“You’ll die here by my hands!” the curse roars.

You take a step back as the geisha prepares to launch another attack, silk sashes drawn back into the sky before they plunge back at you two in an aerial attack. Nanami leaps through the attacks as his body moves faster than he can process it.

You, on the other hand, create a shield out of cursed energy to try and deflect the attacks. At the very least, Haibara deserves a proper burial. There isn’t time for mourning now, and you have to wipe away the tears that pool in your eyes. You try to ignore the way his head rolls closer to your foot and bumps against it gently.

Nanami lets out a yell of anger. His cursed energy swells as he cuts his way through the sashes, movement based on momentum than anything else at this point. His mind is clouded with regret and frustration. Nanami channels his anger into his sword, the ten destined lines appearing before his eyes once more.

The curse lets out a cry of pain as it stumbles back, sashes redrawn as it tries to gauge its wounds. Blood gushes from a slash on its side and Nanami darts forward again — again, again, again, until its dead. His legs, however, are weaker than what he thinks they can bear. Nanami stumbles in his step.

“Ken!” you shout.

The curse grins. It takes little to no time to regenerate, skin overlapping raw flesh as it gets back onto its feet.

“You’re weak,” it taunts. “First your friend, now you. I’ll be sure to savour the last one as well!”

Nanami struggles to get back onto his feet. He gasps, heart ripping a hole through his chest. He’s so exhausted; so worn out, that his arms refuse to raise his sword above chest height. He curses.

You run over to Nanami, grabbing his uniform and dragging him back. The curse starts to chant ominously. Its face turns dark, taking steps that sway its body with thick, lacquered geta. You shove Nanami back as you’re engulfed by its domain, swallowed up by darkness and spit into a tatami room. He barely has time to call your name before you disappear.

“Shit!”

Nanami stumbles back onto his feet, but sinks down onto his knees again. His shoulders quake as he tries to suck in breaths of air, but his throat is too dry. He coughs and adjusts his grip on his sword. Shit, shit, shit. All of his partners tossed themselves at death as if it was an idle thing just to protect him. What was Nanami doing? He would never become a sorcerer like this, never be able to protect you.

He grits his teeth. He’ll never be enough.

Nanami picks up his sword, wrapping his fingers around its hilt one more time. He dashes towards the domain, tasting iron as he hacks and slashes at it. Again, again, and again. His hands turn numb and his cursed energy flickers like a candle’s flame, but there’s one thing Nanami’s insistent on — getting you out of there.

The domain finally collapses as Nanami finally steadies himself on his feet. You roll to the ground, breath shallow. Your uniform is sliced up in different areas and a pool of blood begins to spread where your head meets the floor.

“Ken…?” you whisper.

Nanami smells it — the scent of death. Why did he ever choose to become a sorcerer over an ordinary high school life? He wouldn’t have dragged you into this mess, caused you to be hurt time and time again. Nanami calls out your name tentatively. You don’t respond.

The curse roars with laughter as your eyes fall shut, “Don’t you see how I’m so strong? You’re nothing compared to me-”

Nanami sees red. He launches himself forward, brandishing his sword even if it’s for the last time.

He doesn’t remember what happens afterwards.

Nanami sinks into a pool of blood, head spinning with exertion. Your body lays to his left, Haibara’s head to his right. He collapses to the ground.

☆*: .｡.

When he comes to, Nanami’s eyes struggle to adjust to the white light that floods the room. It smells vaguely like antiseptic. He slowly sits up, body aching with exhaustion with telltale bandages wrapped around most of his exposed limbs.

A drawn curtain separates his bed from the rest of the room, which he assumes to be Jujutsu Tech’s sickbay. He runs a hand over his face and lies back down, letting sleep take him by the hand and lead him a step further from reality.

Nanami wakes up a second time when Shouko returns to the room. He stares at her, blinking once, then twice.

“Nanami?” she asks softly. “Can you hear me?”

He tries to reply, but his throat is parched. He ends up coughing, wrinkling his face as pain spreads through his ribs. Shouko rushes to get him a glass of water and calls the rest (namely Yaga and Gojo) over. Nanami nurses the glass as Yaga takes a seat by his bed.

There are no questions, only condolences and murmured explanations of what had happened. The only thing Nanami picks up is that you’re alive. That’s more than enough for him to relax, nodding dumbly along to Yaga’s words.

The curse had been on the brink of death when Nanami collapsed. However, he had put up enough of a fight for nearby sorcerers to come to his aid and finish it off. There was no doubt about it — it was a special grade curse. Yaga apologises for the miscommunication and loss of Haibara’s life. Nanami doesn’t reply.

No amount of apologies could turn back time and bring Haibara back.

It takes him a few more days before Nanami’s able to hobble around the school, aided by crutches. Gojo pokes fun at how he seems like a grandpa but even his jokes don’t bear the mean edge they usually do. Getou leaves a can of vending machine coffee by his bedside table and Shouko brings him some wildflowers. Nanami leaves the plush cat Yaga had made for him untouched.

Nanami struggles against the nightmares that plague him. In one Haibara cradles his decapitated head in his own arms, asking Nanami why he hadn’t saved his life; in another you die, guts spilling onto the streets with your eyes bulging from your skull. Nanami wakes up in cold sweat. He calms his breathing alone and doesn’t sleep a single wink.

It’s a rainy day when Shouko lets him enter the morgue. Haibara’s body is laid in a shroud of white, his head positioned to appear attached. Had he ever been so pale? Nanami’s fingers grip his crutches, gritting his teeth.

How long his eyelashes had been! A small scar runs down his left temple (“After my sister shoved me in the playground!” Haibara had chirped), and his bangs remain as perfectly cut as they had been when he died. Nanami half expects him to sit up, to grin and laugh at his twisted face.

“Why’re you so stiff, Nanami? It’s just a joke!”

Justajokejustajokejustajoke.

A chasm opens up in Nanami’s stomach. His crutches clatter to the floor as he races out of the morgue, stumbling when pain shoots up his right leg. He retches dryly and tears pool in his eyes. Shouko silently covers Haibara and closes the door, Nanami’s tears falling alongside the pouring rain.

That night in his dreams, Haibara slices Nanami’s head off. He wakes up with his heart racing and tears slipping down his cheeks.

Nanami visits you the next day. He had been reluctant to do so — what if you blamed him for everything, for Haibara’s death and your injuries? He wouldn’t be able to bear it, to be hated by you. His hand hovers over your dorm doorknob, hesitating. Nanami takes a deep breath as he swallows his anxiety and opens the door.

It’s as if nothing had ever happened.

You sit on your bed, neatly tucked under the covers with a book sitting on your lap. Warm sunshine pours through the open windows and the penguin plush Nanami had won for you at a festival still sits by your desk. You look up when he walks in.

Nanami calls out your name. You stare at him.

“Sorry, but… Who are you?” you ask quietly, a sense of confusion lacing your words.

He stops by the door and Nanami’s heart sinks to his feet.

“I’m Kento. Nanami Kento,” he repeats, words tasting like ash in his mouth.

Checkered curtains flutter in the wind and the pages of your book butterfly open to an unread chapter. You keep your eyes focused on Nanami, eyebrows slightly furrowed in confusion.

“I don’t know anyone by that name,” you reply.

☆*: .｡.

A toxic mix of trauma and a severe head injury had caused your amnesia. Nanami lays in bed at night, staring up at the ceiling. If only he hadn’t let his emotions overtake him, if only he had been there a minute earlier, if only if only if only. Regret dulls his sense of taste and emotions. He no longer takes joy in eating anything (even those croissants Getou had bought while out on a mission), nor does he even crack a smile at Gojo’s antics.

Nanami returns to training once he is physically well again. He becomes the only first-year to attend Yaga’s classes, sparring practice conducted with the second years. He goes out on missions alone and learns to provide both defense and offense for himself. Nanami trains, he exercises curses, he returns to school. He repeats this same cycle mindlessly over and over again.

Time heals, they say. Nanami wonders how much time it must take for him to let go of everything.

Nanami learns to hide his disappointment. His face becomes a strong facade for whatever his weak heart truly feels. The quiet sigh he lets out when no one’s around, the stretching of his neck after yet another fruitless day of training — Nanami decides that he’ll leave the world of sorcery once he’s graduated.

Seasons change and Nanami becomes a second year, then a third year. Getou falls away. The seniors graduate and new freshmen enter the school. Nanami keeps these things in the back of his mind as he raises his sword for a countless time, striking the training doll with ease.

You work with Shouko in the infirmary, occasionally helping out with office work. The school had deemed it better to keep you under their care than to release you outside. Like a rehabilitated animal, Nanami thinks.

You still remember no memories of him. Nanami brings you sweets and souvenirs from his missions, letting you trace your fingers over the fancy packaging with a sparkle in your eye. At this, Nanami swallows back his confession of love once more. He can’t bear to burden you with his feelings.

You form new impressions of him. Nanami turns into the stone-faced and adorable boy who treats you like fine China, always sticking his hands out awkwardly when he tries to give you something. The tips of his ears burn red when he lies — especially when you ask him, “Nanami, did you buy this for me?” and he shakes his head furiously.

You think he’s kind. He comforts you when you cry over lost memories, unable to remember the faces in photographs that had once been so familiar. The first thing Nanami does after returning from a mission is to rush to you. Were you okay? Did you have your meals? One time, he came over without getting his injuries checked and collapsed by your feet. You scolded him after that, tenderly dressing his wounds.

“Nanami!” you said crossly, a pout on your face.

He tries to forget how he had asked you to stop calling him ‘Ken-chan’. He ducks his head, hissing when you douse his skin in antiseptic.

Some things don’t change, though. You still keep your pencil box immaculately neat — the tips of your stationery always pointing to the right side. Though you don’t have any more movie ticket stubs, you carefully clip the pictures of your childhood Nanami had given to you together and keep them under your pillow.

One day, you munch on a yummy biscuit Nanami brought back for you. He sits on the floor and polishes his sword, peering at it from every angle to make sure it’s evenly oiled.

“Nanami?”

He hums.

“Has anyone ever told you that you look like you’re from an emo boy band? Your hair matches it.”

Your shy laugh rings out in the room as bile rises in Nanami’s throat. He sheathes his sword and lays it on the ground.

“Yes, they have.”

He struggles to smile, his gut twisting.

☆*: .｡.

On graduation day, no one else but Nanami receives his certificate with a flower corsage pinned to his chest. The room is empty save for him and Yaga, the chirping of spring birds breaking the silence.

“I’m glad to have been able to teach you, Nanami,” Yaga broods. “You’ve grown a lot.”

Nanami does not reply. He bows deeply and strides out of the main building. All of a sudden, the traditional architecture and nature that surround Jujutsu High seems stifling. His skin crawls with the urge to leave as soon as possible.

“Nanamin!”

He jumps. Turning around, he finds you grinning happily with a bouquet of flowers in hand.

“Congratulations on your graduation!” you chirp.

Nanami accepts the flowers awkwardly and rests them in the crook of his elbow, his other hand clutching his certificate. A gentle breeze rustles the leaves of nearby trees and a wave of sakura petals descend from their branches like rain.

“Nanamin,” your voice grows softer. “Are you leaving forever?”

He swallows, then nods wordlessly.

“Will I ever see you again?”

“I wanna be with you forever, Ken-chan!” you wailed.

“Forever’s a long time,” Nanami replied.

He handed you his yellow cotton handkerchief, face wrinkling when you honked your nose into it. Gross. His neck hurt from sticking it out of the car window. He can hear his father tapping a finger onto the wheel impatiently, his mother silent as she stares out the front.

“B-but!”

Your bottom lip quivered and Nanami let out a sigh.

“Fine, fine. I’ll be with you, okay?”

“Really, Ken-chan? Forever?”

“Yeah, really. Forever.”

You grinned in the waning sunlight as your mother tugged you away.

“I’ll never forget you, Ken-chan!” you shouted.

The car window rolled up and he watched you disappear into the horizon, turning as tiny as an ant.

Nanami swallows his heart into the pit of his stomach.

“Probably.”

“That’s not a definitive answer, Nanamin.”

“What do you want me to tell you, then?”

There’s a slight tremble in his voice. The plastic wrapping of the flowers crinkle under his grip and waves of emotions rush over him; the biggest out of all of them regret. He struggles to breathe underwater, keeping his eyes squeezed shut and nose plugged up. A sakura petal lands on his shoulder. He doesn’t bother brushing it away.

“Say,” you whisper, taking a step to close the distance between Nanami and you.

He gulps as you place a hand upon his chest. He can feel the heat of your skin through his uniform and Nanami’s too dumbstruck to respond.

“Why don’t you give me your second button?”

Your eyes meet his. A smile toys with the corners of his lips and suddenly Nanami blurts out a nervous “Okay.”. His mind flickers back to Haibara momentarily; how you had appeared to like him so much back then. But he chooses to shove those memories into the back of his mind once more as you produce a small pair of scissors and snip the thread.

“You always take care of me, Nanamin. It was natural of me to fall in love with you,” you breathe, cradling the swirl patterned button in your hands.

A gust of cool air slips into his unbuttoned shirt and Nanami’s breath hitches.

“Do you like me too?”

Your question is innocent. With the way you peer up at him, there’s no way that Nanami can lie. Your glittery eyes were the same ones he had fallen in love with all those years ago. He wonders if he still loves you in the same way as he did then; as faultless and innocent it had been. His heart sits on the tip of his tongue.

“Yeah, I do.”

Your eyes crinkle at the edges as you smile, an evident sigh of relief escaping your lips. You slip the button into your pocket before tugging Nanami even closer towards you. He yelps as your chest presses against his and the tips of his ears turn red.

You plant your lips by the side of his.

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen angst #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk angst #jujutsu kaisen fic #jjk fic #nanami kento #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento fluff #nanami kento angst #nanami kento fic #nanami x reader #nanami angst #nanami fluff #nanami fic #jjk nanami #jjkmagsummer

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redheadsinmybed · 3 years

Text

Adding to the family

Wanda x Natasha x Reader

Description: Wanda and you have been in a steady relationship, what happens when you add a special someone to it???

Notes: Wow! I can’t believe the amount of people on here who actually like my writing! It’s nice to know that you guys out there are enjoying it! Anyways have fun with this one!!

Wanda, sweet loving Wanda, was sent on a mission. Leaving you all alone with no one to snuggle with at night and no one to wake up to in the morning.

She didn’t want to leave you. She tried to convince Cap that they didn’t need her for the mission, but it didn't work and she got sent anyway.

Before she left Wanda and you had talked about your relationship. Not anything bad. At first you talked about where it was going. But then, somehow, the subject of Natasha came up.

“Do you like her,” Wanda asks you. You look into her eyes and see something, not sadness, but something else that you can’t describe.

“What do you mean ‘do I like her’” you ask with concern.

“I mean do you like-like her? I've seen the way you look at her baby.” You start to cry worried that she might leave you. Sure you like-like Nat, but you love Wanda more than anything and don’t want to lose her.

“Baby, it’s okay,” she says as she cups your face and wipes your tears away, “I’m not mad baby, I like her too” Wanda says and your eyes go wide.

“You do?” You ask.

“Yes baby”

“like , like-like her?”

“Yes baby” Wanda chuckles at your shocked look.

“Wait…” you say thoughtfully.

“If you like-like her and I like-like her and she like-likes both of us..” Your eyes go wide with excitement in realization. You look up at Wanda to make sure she’s on board with your thinking.

“Then maybe she can join our relationship,” Wanda finishes your sentence.

“Do you want that though, like truly want that?” You ask very seriously, ready to drop the subject if she says no.

“I would like that. What about you, how do you feel about it?” Wanda asks seriously too.

“I like it too,” you say, “but you’ll always be my-my…” You try to think of the right words.

“Same,” Wanda says, knowing what you meant. You smile up at her and hug her.

That was the conversation you had with her 2 days before her mission. Now it was the first day without her. It was about bedtime and you were scared. This is the first time in about 2 months that you are going to have to sleep without her.

Before you started sleeping with her you’d have nightmares, not every night but about every other. They stopped when you started sleeping with Wanda and you’ve been nightmare free ever since.

You get in bed and you realize just how empty it is without her. You start to cry knowing that she’s going to be gone for 3 days and 3 nights.

You cry yourself to sleep holding Bunny, your stuffed koala that Nat gave you, close to your chest.

You find yourself in a fight. You and Wanda are fighting Ultron. You use your combat skills to keep him distracted, while Wanda used her powers to rip out his mechanic heart. He fell to the ground, and Wanda came over to hug you.

Before she could reach you, you saw Ultrons hand lift up. He shoots an energy beam at Wanda’s back. You scream to warn her but no sound comes out.

You watch as she falls to the ground. The life in her eyes is gone as there’s a gaping hole in her body. You rush over to her.

“NO NO NO PLEASE!!!!!!” You scream at her.

“DON’T GO!!!” You say sobbing for her. She doesn’t move.

“MAMA!!!!!” You scream still crying. You hear your name being called and feel yourself being shaken.

You wake up drenched in sweat, breathing heavily, and little. You realise you can’t move because you are being held by someone.

“You’re okay I’ve got you, you’re okay,” You recognize the voice instantly. It’s Natasha. You finally realize where you are. In your bedroom, and Wanda isn’t here she’s on a mission. You start to cry afraid that the dream might have been real.

“It’s okay it was just a dream”

“Ma-Mama ah-alive?” You ask her with a shaky voice. Natasha instantly realizes that the dream must’ve made you go into your little state.

“Yes honey, your mama is still alive” Nat says, although you still worry that maybe she isn’t. Nat sees the worry in your face.

“Do you want to facetime her baby?” She asks you. You nod your head needing to make sure she was still alive.

“Okay,” Nat says as she lets go of you. You start to cry again when she pulls away.

“Mommy don’t go” You say scared that she’s gonna leave. Natasha is taken back for a moment at what you call her.

“I’m not going anywhere baby,” She says as she wipes the new tears off your face. Nat scoots back so her back is against the headboard. She pats the space in between her legs and you sit in front of her with your back to her chest. You lay your head against her chest and she wraps her arms around your front. She takes her phone and facetimes Wanda. It rings twice before she picks up.

“Hi baby,” she says when she sees you, and then she frowns seeing that you had been crying.

“baby girl what’s wrong?” She asks, worry in her voice.

“Bad dream mama,” You say quietly.

“Oh baby. Do you want to talk about it?” You start to cry again remembering the dream you had. Nat holds you tighter.

“W-we were fighting Ultron and he used his energy beam to kill you. An I twied to warn y-you b-but you died, you died mama, an I couldn’t, I couldn’t…” You tried to get out your sentence but you couldn’t.

“Oh baby girl,” Mama coos.

“It’s okay baby, mamas still alive, I’m right here baby,” Mama says to you trying to get you to calm down. It takes a while but eventually you calm down after many ‘it’s okays’ and ‘im right heres’. Wanda has to go but she told you that she would be okay.

“I will fight for you baby girl, no matter what,” She said to you before you said goodbye.

You are exhausted and tired. But you don’t want to be alone.

“Mommy?” You ask.

“Yes baby?”

“Will yous stay wit me?”

“I wasn’t planning to leave you alone tonight baby,” Nat says. You look up at her lovingly. Tasha picks up the covers for you to get under. When you do she gets off the bed, you whine tugging at her arm.

“What baby?”

“You said yous stay wit me,” you say pouting.

“I am baby, I am gonna sleep on the chair,” she says pointing to a relatively small chair in the conner of your room. You shake your head.

“No want you here,” you say pointing to the empty space next to you. Nat bites her lip thinking it through. Finally she gets under the covers with you. You instantly get as close as you can to her and hide your face in her neck.

Nat hesitantly wraps her arms around you. She feels you relax into her and she feels like this is right where she is supposed to be. She waits for you to fall asleep.

“I love you,” She says before she falls into sleep.

When you wake up you’re no longer little. You feel someone surrounding you. You open your eyes and you see red hair, Tasha. It all comes back to you at once, the dream, the name, the facetime. Oh no.

If you remember correctly you had called her ‘mommy’. Oh no oh no. You only talked about it with Wanda, you didn’t make any official plans.

What if she didn’t want to go through with it, what if she changed her mind. What if she sees you with Tasha right now, what if she’s mad. What if she leaves you.

As if on cue your bedroom door opens to reveal the one and only Wanda Maximoff. Oh f***.

Should you jump out of bed, what if you wake Nat? You decide that the best thing you can do is pretend like you are sleeping, then wake up and act confused. You close your eyes and relax your face.

You hear Wanda doing something, probably putting her mission stuff away. Then to your surprise you feel the covers being pulled back and the bed dip down to your empty side. You feel Wanda wrap her arms around you and feel her head on your chest.

You feel Nat move on your side, she must be a light sleeper.

“Morning,” you hear Wanda say you can feel her smile against your skin.

“Hey, your home early,” she was early. In fact she was only gone for a day when she should've been gone for 3.

“Yeah I know, but after last night I had to come home,” Wanda whispers back, clearly talking about you.

“I’m glad you’re back,” you can hear Natasha’s smile as she says it. Then you hear something you would have never expected. Kissing, lips on lips.

Your eyes fly open to see Wanda's hand tangled up in Natasha's hair, their lips moving together. They don’t notice you have your eyes open as you're too shocked at the moment to say anything.

Natasha is the first one to pull away. Wanda and her look down at you surprised to see you awake. They laugh because your mouth is practically touching the floor and your eyes are as big as saucers.

“Did you just- while I was- did you actually just- but-but when, how… what???” You blabber out. Wanda just smiles and kisses you with the same lips that she just was kissing Nat with.

“And you just- with the same- okay someone better explain,” you say.

“Well baby after you went to sleep Nat and I texted for a while, I told her about our talk we had and how we’d like to have her join our relationship”

“And you said yes,” you say to yourself.

“And I said yes,” Nat confirms.

“I hope you're not mad baby, you still want this right?” Wanda asks you.

“Well yeah I still want it, but I mean you gave me a heart attack when you came in. And when I saw you kissing Tasha I think I died for a moment,” Natasha and Wanda laugh.

“So it’s official, like in both?” You ask.

“Yes baby it’s official, in both,” you suddenly feel so happy you surge up to Natasha and kiss her. Her lips are so soft, and she’s gentle when she kisses you. You pull back with a huge smile on your face.

“Wow. You are a great kisser, way better than Wanda,” you say with a giggle.

“Hey!” Wanda says as she slaps your shoulder playfully. Natasha just blushes shaking her head. You yawn still tired as it’s only 6:15 a.m.

“You still tired baby girl?” Wanda asks you, tired herself after the long ride home.

You nod your head, slipping into your little state when you hear her call you that.

“Can you and mommy cuddle me?” you ask mama, picking up Bunny and holding her to your chest.

“Of course baby,” Wanda says as you lay back down. Natasha is on one side of you and Wanda is on the other. You snuggle into Nat wrapping your arms around her. Your front to mommy’s front and your back to mama’s front.

You feel mama wrap her arm around your waist and feel mommy’s hand on your hip. Feeling safe and loved you drift off into a peaceful sleep. Mama and mommy following you right after you.

#wanda maximoff x you #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff #female reader #natasha romonova #wanda x natasha #natasha x reader #age regression #loving a little #little reader #bad dreams

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pascalpanic · 3 years

Text

He is My Home (Din Djarin x f!Reader)

Summary: Din’s going to have a nasty scar from the wound on his side, just like the ones you have, the ones you’re insecure about.

W/C: 2.3k

Warnings: light mentions of blood and injuries. mentions of birth. scars (none are explicitly from SH) are mentioned.

A/N: Fluffy Din can I get a hell yeah?? @binarydanvvers sent me this request and it’s absolutely precious so I’m really happy I got to write it. I hope y’all will love it too!!

Din Djarin’s body is defined by his scars, even if few or no other living beings have seen them.

The very first scar on Din’s body came from his birth. Vha Djarin’s baby came out happy and healthy, but an apprentice midwife with an unsteady hand nicked the child’s skin with her blade as she severed the umbilical cord. That’s where the small white line above his belly button comes from.

The other scars include various missions, combat as a young adult, some nearly mortal wounds. There’s a scar across the bridge of his nose from some mission where he was fighting for your little green son’s life. There’s a long line along his forearm from a slice due to an opponent’s blade, on the underside, where the beskar didn’t protect him.

Everything about Din is beautiful to you. Even his name is so beautiful to say- Din Djarin. It sounds like poetry in his mother tongue’s accent. You’ve married him, become his riduur. You see his face daily, the face he was so scared to show you.

Din had feared you’d find him ugly. That you’d think him unlovable, that his nose was too big and eyes too deep-set, his entire body and even his soul too scarred. It wasn’t until after your wedding, when you removed his helmet and cried in joy, that his fears were cast away. You pressed your forehead to his and cupped his face and genuinely told him that you couldn’t imagine a more beautiful man, a more handsome and wonderful Mandalorian behind that beskar.

That night was spent exploring each other’s bodies now that you had total and complete access to Din’s body. It wasn’t entirely sexual, though much of it was; you just felt his abs and his arms and his warm skin beneath yours, and he did the same to you.

Your life has been perfect for the past few months as Din’s riduur. You get to see his face every day, kiss the scar on the bridge of his beautiful nose. You have the privilege of rolling over in bed and seeing his sleeping face, his brow furrowed even in his sleep. You get to see his little green son squeal in excitement when he gets to see his daddy’s face, the way the three small green fingers of each hand grab at one stubbly cheek.

Din is equally as happy. Being with you allows him to be a human again; it allows him to be Din, not Mando. Your warm arms around him in the middle of the night stall the nightmares of the siege of his hometown and the kills he committed and the way the pile of Mando helmets looked in the corner of the covert.

Of course, practicality dictates Din still must work. As a bounty hunter’s riduur, your options are really either to be a bounty hunter too, or a stay at home buir to your little green son. As you have next to no fighting skills, you stuck with the role that introduced you to your husband in the first place: interplanetary nanny to your bug-eyed baby boy.

You enjoyed the pretend domesticity, but you also appreciated the charm of the fact that home is literally where you make it with the Razor Crest: on any planet, moon, or space station. Your home travels with you, your home is wherever the Crest is tonight.

Even before you found the Crest, Din has been your home. He’s your place and your person, ever since the first time someone threatened you and Din shot them dead where they stood and you stared for a second in utter terror they’d jerk back to life before running into his arms and burying your head in the skin between his helmet and his cape. And that’s when you realized that Din’s arms were your safe place, the one place nothing can hurt you. Not when Din is protecting you.

Tonight more than ever, you miss Din’s arms. He took a honeymoon phase of one or two bounties a month after your riduurok, to spend time with you and the child and your newly formed, legally Mandalorian family. Your aliit, your clan. All good things must come to an end, though, and Din was back into his hunting. It’s been a week without him. Your beskar ring feels cold on your finger tonight as you trace your hand over the etched mudhorn in the wedding band.

Your green baby is cuddled to your chest, snoozing happily with his mama. You press a kiss to his head, thinking about Din. The child’s father. The little creature radiates warmth and relaxation and hypnotically urges you to fall asleep alongside him. Rest, mama. And you do.

The next morning, you startle awake at the sound of beskar clanging against the metal of the ship. “Riduur?” You call out, sitting up excitedly.

“Hi,” he says weakly, and the tone sets panic into your body. You jump out of the bed to find Din kneeling next to the carbonite, a freshly sealed and still sublimating creature trapped in it.

Din clutches his side and you sink to your knees frantically. His orange gloves are covered with blood as one reaches to you. “Din,” you panic, unsure what to do for a moment. “I’m going to go get the medkit. You start undressing now, beskar off, clothes off,” you order him and get to your feet. You pull out a cot and pop it open. “Lay here and wait for me.”

You fly into a tizzy around the ship, grabbing the various things you need. Bacta, needles, bandages, the official medkit. Good. You return to his side, where he lies in his boxers and helmet. “Baby,” you coo gently and remove the helmet. “Just me, remember?”

“Yeah,” he chuckles, dazed eyes looking up at you. His dark hair is drenched in his sweat, and there’s a trickle of blood from his lip.

You fly into action. “Bacta’s going in first, love. Going to jab it in, get ready.” He softly nods and makes a whimper as you stab the needle in, pushing down the plunger and emptying the syringe into his body.

He’s numb now. You wipe the wound and grab the cauterizer. “You might feel this, Din. It’s gonna be quick, I promise.” He doesn’t even respond, eyes shut. You use it and he twitches, his face cringing in pain.

“I know, I know. Doing so good, almost- there we go,” you sigh as the wound is finished cauterizing. “You did wonderfully, my warrior. Providing for us no matter the cost,” you tell him and press a soft kiss to his forehead.

You press a large gauze patch and bandage over his wound, to ensure it stays clean. “Okay, okay baby. You can sleep now. Did so good for me, my strong man,” you mumble, cupping his face.

“You did all the work,” he mutters, a soft smile on his face. The medication wipes him out into a deep sleep.

Bacta isn’t a miracle drug. It can’t save you from certain death, can’t reverse the growth of diseases that have already infiltrated. The miracle, really, behind Bacta, is how quickly it works. It heals wounds that would take weeks in days, and days in hours.

When Din wakes later, the cauterized wound has shrunken exponentially. He’s still got lots of bruises and nicks, but he’s better. There’s a familiar hum, the soft roar of hyperspace surrounding the Crest.

He sits up with minimal pain and looks around. There’s a soft light coming from the bunk, where you and the baby sleep. The light is for the child. He’s scared of too much dark; you’d learned that especially in the days where the hull would be coated in blackness in order for you and Din to kiss and touch and love. Your face is peaceful as you sleep, and Din looks at you with all of the love in his heart.

He stands, albeit slowly, and walks to the bunk with a jerking and awkward stance. He just wants you, your softness and warmth. It’s common that he’ll sneak into bed with you after a mission or piloting the ship, or simply because you took a nap and he just needed some sweetness in his day. You instinctually nuzzle into him, attracted to his warmth. The child follows suit, nestling between the two of you. His two favorite people in all of the galaxy, his buirs.

The three of you are at peace, in your home: with each other. You roll over as you notice the warm presence and a small smile graces your slowly waking face. “Mm, riduur. You were supposed to be on the cot,” you chuckle softly and press a kiss to the tip of his nose.

“Bacta fixed me up enough.”

“You’re gonna have a nasty scar,” you chuckle softly.

“I’ve got plenty of those already. What’s one more?” He asks, nudging your face with his nose.

It’s unbearably soft and warm. “Scars seem to be our problem,” you nod in agreement.

He pulls away and looks at you, in the soft blue glow of the baby’s nightlight. “Cyare, scars aren’t a problem. They’re reminders, of everything we’ve been through and will prevail through in the future.” He kisses your collarbone softly, setting your child aside.

You frown. “Doesn’t mean I like them. They’re gross.”

Din’s frown matches yours. It’s a warm night in the Crest, leaving you sleeping in just a breastband and a pair of shorts. He can see the scars littering your abdomen, the ones you’re so insecure about. “Tell me about them.”

“Din,” you pout.

“We are one when together, we are one when parted,” he mumbles, scooting down to press a kiss to one scar. Your wedding vows, the ones you took and meant with all of your soul. “Your pain is mine, my love. Tell me about this one,” he says, a featherlight fingertip tracing the line.

You sigh, making your abdomen inflate and deflate deeply beneath him. “I was 11 cycles old when I got that one. My appendix ruptured, they had to remove it.”

He nods and kisses along the scar, big brown eyes looking up at you. “I see. And this one?” He asks.

You chuckle softly. “This is from when I was stupid enough to sleep in just a breastband and shorts, like this, and I rolled over on green bean and his claw stabbed me.”

Din recalls. He chuckles happily at the memory and presses a kiss to the scar, his fingers still tracing the last one. There’s one on your knuckles. He takes your hand and traces it, looking at you. Silently asking.

“Lothcat bite. They’re not as cute and docile as they look,” you nod as Din’s lips ghost over your fingers.

You think about the places you got those childhood scars. All at home. The newer one? From your newer home. Yes, your old home may have scarred you, most certainly physically and maybe mentally or emotionally, but they left their mark on you. Your eyes water as you look down at Din. “Your turn,” you tell him and push him down into the mattress of the bunk.

There’s been one you’ve always meant to ask him about. You straddle his hips and sit between his groin and his navel. “What is this one?” You ask of a little mark above his navel. It’s a stark white, contrasting his skin.

“My birth. A midwife nicked me while severing the umbilical cord. I’ve heard that my mother was ready to take the surgical tools herself and go after her,” he chuckles.

You smile softly. There’s a scar on his cheek and your fingertips slowly draw the outline of it. He nods. “As a teen, obviously. Before the helmets went on. Close call with a spear,” he admits, a soft smile on his face. “Those are the only fun ones. The rest are from bounties,” he admits.

You chuckle softly. “Fun ones?” You tease.

“Interesting, I suppose,” he admits, taking your fingertips from his scar to rest them on his lips, kissing them then just holding your hand. “Do you see, my love?” He asks.

You simply nod, eyes watering again. Din reaches up and wraps you in his arms, lowering you to lie chest to chest on top of him. “You are so beautiful, my love. My riduur,” he mumbles to you. You sigh contentedly and kiss the scar on the bridge of his nose.

“Easy for you to say. You’re a bounty hunter. These all suit you. Besides the fact that you’re already covered head to toe in beskar, it would just work.”

He frowns. “Cyar’ika. Neither I nor anyone else cares about your scars. They’re part of you; how could I?”

You whimper and bury your head in his neck, allowing yourself to cry. “It’s been a hard day, Din. Please let me have this.”

“I will not. I absolutely refuse to let you think like that,” he tells you and cradles your head. “You can cry all you’d like, riduur, but it won’t change the fact that I find the scars absolutely beautiful. They’re so perfectly you. They’ve made you who you are, the woman I love so dearly. How could they be ugly when they’re made of you?”

His words make you cry harder, and you sob into his bare skin. He strokes your back, allowing you to cry it out. He mumbles sweet words in your ear; just letting it happen.

When you’re finished, you lift your head with a sniffle. “I love you so much, Din. You make me feel like I have a home with you.”

He kisses your forehead softly. “This is your home, my love. Right hear, in my arms, wrapped up with me.”

taglist:

@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @softly-sad @blo0dangel @luxurybeskar @binarydanvvers @sleep-tight1 @apascalrascal @randomness501 @spideysimpossiblegirl

#din djarin #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fic #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian #mando x reader #mando #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pascalpanic

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boneshine · 4 years

Text

Jack Stauber’s “Opal” Theory

Last night, I stumbled across Adult Swim premiering Jack Stauber’s “Opal” and got to enjoy it in its entirety. I’m a huge fan of his work, and seeing his latest and biggest animation to date was quite the treat in this season of tricks!

I really enjoyed the lore and thought I would (try to) explain my personal theories regarding the story.

If you haven’t watched “Opal”, I highly suggest you do so. It’s available for free on Adult Swim’s Youtube channel. Go ahead. It’s quite the ride.

SPOILERS BELOW CUT!

The first time you watch “Opal” and the second time you watch it, the story completely changes. The atmosphere changes. The characters change.

What you thought was a surreal tale about a young girl exploring a forbidden house and being consequently terrified by the residents inside transforms into a story where a young girl suffers in a neglectful and abusive household and tries to escape into her fantasies to cope.

You’re led to believe in the beginning that the girl’s name is Opal and that the residents mistake her for someone named “Claire”.

At the end of the story, you realize that “Opal” is actually Claire.

“Opal” is Claire’s fantasy. She pretends to be this happy and bright girl on a billboard in the distance (Opal’s Burgers), surrounded by a family who love and “see” her.

The story begins with “Opal” sitting in her kitchen with a burger while her “family” (the family depicted on the billboard) sings to her.

We see you, Opal

Your troubles are miles away

We see you, Opal

And in our eyes you’ll stay

These lyrics are important because no one in Claire’s house sees her.

From the dialogue/lyrics, each character that Claire interacts with in the house showcases how they never truly see her.

The grandfather watching television is blind. (“And the girls are singin’. They dance too, I assume.”)

The father spends all of his time in the Reflection Chamber staring at himself. (“Why do people look at me like the way you probably are right now?”)

The mother is always intoxicated and lying in bed and sees through a drunken haze. (“Who’s that?”)

None of these characters actually see Claire, which is why she delves into a fantasy persona where she’s given positive attention and love and affection.

The fantasy portion in the beginning, I believe, shows that Claire spends most of her time at or on the billboard until she has to go back to the house to sleep.

In Claire’s fantasy, “Opal” sneaks into the mysterious house next door (which her Billboard Parents warn her to “don’t mind the house across the street”), but she hears cries coming from the attic and goes to investigate.

The realization at the end is that the cries are coming from Claire herself, and her inability to escape her abusive household as she’s locked herself in the attic.

Let’s take a look at the rest of the household in detail...

There are three other residents in Claire’s home, which are represented by the billboard: The Mother, the Father, and the Grandfather.

The Grandfather

Claire’s real grandfather is a blind, obese chain-smoking man addicted to television. He struggles to breathe, coughs up blood, and scolds Claire for hiding his cigarettes, claiming that “it’s evil to help someone that doesn’t need help”.

Claire appears frightened and nervous around him.

When he demands that Claire give him his cigarettes, he soon grows concerned that she “smells weird” (because she had been outside) and won’t say anything.

Due to his blindness (and possible dementia), he mistakes her for a stranger, panics, and lashes out, yelling at her to “get out of his house”. In his panic, he falls out of his chair and screams as Claire runs away.

The Father

As Claire continues on toward the attic, the Father stops her. He sits in his Reflection Chamber in the bathroom, surrounded by mirrors. He is unable to see anything but his own face.

(It’s implied that he is delusional, as you can supposedly see the Father’s True Face at 11:09, which is distorted, grey, and horrifying)

Claire appears perplexed by him. It’s obvious that she isn’t used to him speaking to her. However, it becomes apparent that he doesn’t truly speak to her, but rather projects his own insecurities and feelings onto her.

He appears to be extremely narcissistic and unaware of the world around him. Religious themes collide with his self-reflection, as he rambles and talks about how “God is in his skin” and he considers himself in the process of becoming the world’s next “savior”. He spends all of his time fixing his appearance because “they turn me down so I live my nightmare”, and his need to be “seen by somebody somewhere”.

When she tries to leave, he raises his voice at her, only to calmly remark that “you could spare me a little time, you know; you act like I’m a complete stranger.”

Which, to her, he most likely is.

The Mother

Claire’s mother resides in a dilapidated room, surrounded by wine bottles, pills, and romance novels.

She lies in bed (or on the floor) underneath the sheets and grabs Claire’s leg.

She speaks with a slur, heavily intoxicated.

At first, she doesn’t recognize her daughter, but comments that “you’re being a person today, huh?”, implying that Claire often spends her time away from the family-- and for good reason.

She speaks morosely and in confusing tangents that reveal her inner turmoil about the family and her circumstances.

“Goodness exists. If I wait, Claire, and sit still... it will arrive.”

“You should be more considerate, obviously, but I forgive you. I forgive every single one of you... every night. It’s a virtuous cycle.”

“How did this get so bad? I feel terrible for all the things I... I feel terrible.”

“You and I don’t live, Claire. We survive.”

“Our adversaries are in denial. They don’t know the wrong they do. And they never repent how I want them to.”

(To Claire) “And you, you’re just like me. You’re just as powerless as I am, Claire.”

She lies back into the bed and drunkenly sings a lullaby.

The Mother’s Song

Mama needs a little girl to land on

Mama needs a little girl to fall in her arms

Mama needs a Mama’s girl to take good care

Mama needs a baby girl to hold her hair

After this, the camera zooms into the Mother’s rolling eye and a flashback is rapidly shown, including a hand dialing 9-1-1 on a phone, a child(?) being struck and falling to the ground, and what appears to be the Mother (or, perhaps, the Mother’s Mother) screaming in terror (or anger).

This is either a flashback to the Mother violently attacking someone, or a flashback of the Mother’s childhood where she herself was abused.

(It should be noted that the side of the Mother’s head appears to have a dent, implying she may have been the child.)

Claire appears absolutely terrified in her presence, most likely having suffered before from her physical abuse and escapes as soon as the Mother lunges at her, fleeing up to the attic and locking the door.

The truth about “Opal” is shown, and Claire quickly surrenders to her fantasy in her mind as her family beats on the door, where the camera zooms out and the story ends...

In conclusion, the world of “Opal” is a sad tale. Its themes center on fear, neglect, isolation, and abuse in its many horrific forms-- physical, emotional, and psychological. It focuses on Claire’s escapism in her mind, to imagine a happier life, far, far away from those who hurt her.

A forbidden house across the street, filled with dark and foreboding figures, and a little girl that just wants to be seen and loved.

#Jack Stauber #Opal #Jack Stauber's Opal #animation #art #artist #Stauber #claymation #stop motion #live action #Adult Swim #Halloween #horror #psychological horror #i might have to edit this later i'm sorry i'm very dizzy and have to go to work in an hour

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peppermint2d · 3 years

Text

F#$%ing uh, Calm after the Storm cuz the Storm Thing

It's 2D's birthday today, so enjoy another chapter!

Ch.1 in case you missed it

Chapter 2:

When you come to again, you see that the movie was indeed paused from what you last remember. Since he is in the basement, it was still dark inside 2D's room. You could see his sleeping form on his bed, lightly snoring with each inhale. It was still cold, but you promised to give the jacket back, so you gently lay it on top of him. You leave his room, hearing Noodle giggle far away.

There were no windows in the hallway, so you again relied on the walls for help and tried to follow the noises of Noodle in the kitchen. Climbing two flights of stairs in the dark is easier than it sounds, especially since as you reached the upper floor, the windows helped a little. It was still storming outside, but at least outside was brighter, even if by only a small amount.

As you walk into the kitchen, you hear the hiss of the stove releasing gas and see Noodle with a pack of matches. As she strikes one, you tackle her, and the air above you catches fire, burning your arm that you put up the shield both of you. "Ah fuck!" Tears well up in your eyes.

Noodle quickly squirms out from your grasp and puts a pan on the now lit stove. All that for breakfast? You check your arm and see a blister forming. There is no ice in the fridge since it all melted, so you wet a towel and hold it on the burn. Noodle shoos you away from the sink and fridge, removing butter, potatoes, and pancake mix from the cabinets. "Batā daijōbu? Bīgandesu ka?" She asked, holding up the butter.

"Sure, anything is fine."

She nods and quickly whips up breakfast for both of you and enough extras for the rest of the band. She sits on the island counter next to you. "Thank you for breakfast." You push the food around as you attempt to eat with one hand.

She hums questioningly and points to her left arm, your injured one.

You show her the burn. "It will heal, thanks for asking."

"What will heal?" Russel enters and starts getting his plate of food.

"My arm. Burnt it just now."

He sets a water kettle on the still-lit stove. "How bad?"

"Second degree, I think." You remove the towel to show him.

He grimaces. "Great way to wake up in the morning. Joe?"

"Who's Joe?"

Russel broke out into a sly grin. "Joe Mama. But a cup of joe, coffee?"

"BOO! Russel, boo. I can't believe I fell for that." You accept his consolation prize and he makes coffee for both of you. Noodle reaches for one, but Russel lightly smacks her hand away. "None 'til you're older."

Noodle lets out a quick string of angry Japanese.

"Say all you want but ain't getting none of this 'til you're at least 15."

"I can't believe she is so young. She's the one who made breakfast. Plus, she already is so talented with the guitar!"

"And vocals." As soon as Russel says that, he blushes. "Pretend I never said that."

"She does vocals on the new album? Come on, Russel! You can't just let that slip and not answer my questions!!"

"Can and will. Ey Noodle, Where's your napkin?"

Noodle paused in the middle of wiping her maple syrup on her sleeve. Russel sighed and got her a napkin. "You were saying about her maturity?"

You both share a laugh. "When do you think this storm will end?" You ask Russel.

"Dunno. It's always storming over Kong, at least."

"Do you like it here?"

"Don't hate it. I do enjoy makin music, but the whole kidnapped thing wasn't ideal." You both chuckled again.

"Yeah, I bet. I'm going to be having nightmares of Murdoc kidnapping me now."

"Murdoc doing anything is highly unlikely" Russel's deep laughter boomed throughout the room.

"Oi! I do stuff! I do lots of stuff." Murdoc wiggled his eyebrows. He takes the rest of the food.

"Hey! Leave some for 2D!" You protest.

"If the faceache wanted some, he should have woken up earlier." He sneered back, drenching his plate of pancakes in syrup and fried potatoes with ketchup. He poured the rest of the coffee for himself. There was too much for one cup, so he got out two mugs, filled both, and drank from both. What an asshole.

You looked at your own plate. You were too busy tending to your arm and talking to Russel to really eat anything, aside from a piece of potato. You were starving from not having any dinner. But you were the reason 2D stayed up and therefore didn't get up on time. You sighed and took your plate downstairs. "Thanks again for breakfast, Noodle!" You call behind you.

You set the food on the floor so you could knock on the door. Like a poor replay of last night, you had to knock again louder. Frustrated, you shout "2D!" You hear movement on the other side of the door and pick up the food.

"Ah!" A loud thump proceeds the opening of his door and you see him rubbing his chin as he opens it for you.

"You alright?"

"Yeah, I jus tripped. Can't really see well at night. Although I guess it mornin now innit?" He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and stepped out of the way for you to join him, relighting the candle from last night. "Oh! Yew brought me breakfast? I'm starvin. Wouldda fought that Murdoc ate it all before I got any."

"He kinda did" You admit sheepishly.

"But then how'd yew get dis?" He sat on his bright yellow chair and started to eat vigorously.

"A magician never reveals their secrets."

"YEW DO MAGIC?"

"No D, it's an idiom." He looked confused. "Like raining cats and dogs?"

He swallowed his bite before speaking: "That doesn seem safe."

As you're about to laugh, your stomach starts to growl, causing you to turn bright red.

2D frowns. "This was yours?" You nod. "Well, now yew gotta take some. Yew didn efen 'ave dinna!"

"Nah, 2D it's yours, come on you said you were starving!"

"Eh, don tell 'er I said so, but Noodle's cookin can be off. I don like fese potatoes anyway, would yew-"

"Yes." You sit on the ground by him and he hands you what's left of them. You both sit in companionable silence. Normally, you observe everything as information for your articles, but here, there is nothing to record. Eating is a very intimate act. It's private. It leaves you vulnerable. One does not eat comfortably with strangers. There is an inherent agreement made when eating, a promise of safety and companionship. You don't think 2D values this moment as much as you do, you were waxing poetic while he sticks his tongue out as he struggles to cut a part of his pancake. Even though his struggles may suggest otherwise, he is meticulous while eating, taking extra caution to not allow any syrup to drip while he eats.

"Yew still 'ungry?" He nodded towards your empty plate. "Cuz yew'fe been lookin at me eat, and there's plenty pancake left."

"No, uh, I'll live." You flush, you keep forgetting about his eyes.

"Good! Wouldn't want yew dyin." He grins, showing off his missing teeth. You look around his room while he finishes. It wasn't exactly a mess, but it was not orderly. Clothes littered the floor, but the room felt lived in and as homey as a basement could get.

"Do you like living in the basement?" You ask him as he collects the plates into a stack.

"Didn't 'ave much of a choice. Murdoc put me 'ere before Russ n Noodle showed up. Gets a bit drafty fough."

This would be nice for your article. "Was this even a room initially? Or did Murdoc just put up a wall?"

"I dunno. I fink 'e jus put somefin up since I can see ofer dis wall 'ere if I get up 'igh enough." He opens his door and takes the plates with him. "Can yew blow out the candle? I don wanna bring it upstairs since Murdoc would probably take it for 'imself. Yew can grab onto the back of me shirt if you need 'elp navigatin. Not that I can see where I'm goin eifer."

You do ask he asks and grab onto his yellow tee. "I would offa yew me 'and, but..."

"They're full. Don't worry, this is helping loads."

He just hums in response as he leads you up the stairs, through the carpark, and up more stairs to the kitchen. When you finally reach the kitchen, your hand still holding the warm material of 2D's shirt. Russel hears you two enter and looks above the book he was reading --Wuthering Heights-- to raise an eyebrow at your position which must have looked a lot more suggestive than it actually was. You were in the basement alone with 2D for an hour at least and as an investigative journalist, you could understand better than anyone why it looked suspicious. You deeply flush, feeling the heat reach the tips of your ears. 2D apparently did not catch Russel's expression, leading you to the sink, where he washed the plates while you still held onto him. You didn't need to, you could see just fine now.

Russel sniggered, "I guess your arm's feeling better now, huh?" His sly smile hinting that he thinks he knows, incorrectly as it may be, why you are suddenly so close to 2D.

"Your arm's 'urtin?! Why didn yew say anyfin last night?" 2D turns towards you frantically, grabbing the arm that was holding his shirt, turning it around, trying to find the injury.

"Last night? Damn." Russel is chuckling on the couch, shaking his head. "2D, you have been ploughing through too many girls recently."

This piqued your interest. A new development for your article.

"I'm- I'm- I'm strugglin Russ, yew know dis. Besides, we didn efen do anyfin! We jus watched Dawn of the Dead!" He shakes his head vigorously, waving his arms.

"It starts with Dawn of the Dead..."

"ANYWAY! 'ow did yew 'urt your arm?" 2D harshly changes the subject, Russel fully laughing at this point.

You barely manage to mumble: "Burnt it." Russel's teasing really embarrassed you.

"On the candle?" He still looked so concerned, as if he was the one to hurt you.

"This morning. Not your fault, D." He visibly relaxed at that.

"Plus, it's this arm." You held up your left arm, the angry, sickly yellow blister facing him.

"'ow could I 'ave missed this! Oi, love, why 'aven't yew bandaged this? Does it 'urt still? Did yew put ointment on it?"

"Yo, 2D, chill, let her breathe!" Russel shouted from across the room.

2D flinched in surprise. "Sorry."

You smile and giggle, their concern for you was so cute. "I'm fine. It hurts to move and if anything touches it, it's agony, but really no need to fret."

"We keep a first aid kit in the studio because of, uh, Murdoc. I can patch yew up." He takes your uninjured hand and leads you down to the ground floor and into a cluttered studio. You grimaced at the pelt on the floor.

2D noticed your refusal to step on it. "Yeah, 'm not a big fan of it meself." He digs through a discarded box. "'ere's the kit! Come 'ere, I'll make yew feel be'er."

He rifles through the extensive kit, packed with anything an EMT team may need, including a mini lamp, which he turns on. "Oh! 'ere it is! Alooe Veera soofin cream!" He terribly mispronounces the name. "'ere are some bandages too, I'll wrap yew up afta."

You sat by his side on the floor as he tenderly took your injured arm and inspected it. "I fink dis may scar."

"If it does, then I'll always have something to remember this by. Plus, Noodle would feel so guilty, I'd probably get tickets to all of your concerts." You joke, but 2D's concern didn't seem to waver.

He laid it on his lap while he put some cream on his fingers. "Dis may 'urt a wee bit." He started on the outside of your burn, gently rubbing in the cream, the soothing lotion and soft touches caused you to sigh and relax into 2D's shoulder. Again, he smelled of cigarettes and cedar and his vanilla-scented candle still lingered in his shirt. He was bony so that you could feel his shoulder blade and clavicle, but it was not uncomfortable in the slightest. You could feel his muscles move as he tended to you and if this continued any longer, you would have fallen asleep.

He brushes against the blister unexpectedly and you yelp, yanking back your arm. "I need you to stay still, love." You grumble and tuck your head back into his shoulder, relaxing into him again. He continues with the cream, taking extra care with the blister, pausing when you sharply inhale. "I'll bandage yew up right proper, I will." He whispers, mainly to himself.

As soon as the rough gauze touches your blister, you whimper. "Jus stay good for a few more minutes, yeah?"

"This is hurting more than the actual burn."

"Sorry, love. Uh, lemme know if dis is too tight or loose." He begins to wrap the bandage around your forearm.

"Tighter, please." He pauses and tries again.

"Tighter." He tugs on them even harder.

"Tighter."

"Yew sure? I fink your fingers are turnin red." He was right, they were showing signs of lack of blood flow.

"Please, D? I don't want it to come undone and have to do this again."

He follows your wishes and finishes tieing it up with a bow. "There, all done! If it still 'urts bad, I could give yew some of me painkillers?"

"I could do with some ibuprofen maybe. What do you have?"

"Perscriptions. Nefer wifout em!" His smile didn't quite reach his eyes and you could tell that it was just a cover. You give him a sympathetic smile, you couldn't blame him for being addicted. His smile falls. "Yew won't put that in your article, will yew?"

"Of course not, D! Nothing without your permission gets published, I'll even send you my rough draft for you to OK." You stand up and reach out your good arm to help him up too.

He is lighter than you expected as you yank him up beside you. "Yew don 'ave to do that. I doubt I could efen understand what yew write."

"Oh please, you're very intelligent!"

"Not since I fell on me 'ead, I 'aven't been." He deeply sighs. Then, he shakes his head. "Well, dis is where the magic 'appens! I could give yew a tour?"

You follow his lead and decide to stop talking about his past, but that doesn't mean you have to stop wondering what made this ray of sunshine so sad. He takes you around the space, explaining what each machine does and how it was used on the EP, sometimes complaining how one of them didn't work properly or how it didn't make it into the final versions of the songs. When you reach the keyboards, he practically glows when talking about them, their names (yes, he named his keyboards), which sounds are unique to each, and which ones are the stubborn ones. "Dis one 'as a very stiff F4, could nefer play that note." He pulls down his favourite from the shelf and plays "The Entertainer" beautifully. It would have rude to not applaud.

"And that's the recording boof. I don quite like 'ow claustrophobic it makes me. The sound spikes are scary, too. No good memories in there." He takes the lamp with him as he walks to the door. He holds out his hand for you to take, even though you can see where you are going now. But who are you to say no?

You reach out to take his hand, his being quite a bit bigger than yours. He leads you out the door and through the winding hallways of Kong. Even with his lamp, the place still reminds you a bit of a maze. You hear Russel's deep timbre coming down the kitchen's stairs and you remembered your interaction with him earlier and wondered how it would have been if he'd seen how you still held 2D's hand. 2D led you back down the stairs, through the car park, and down the stairs again. with each step the two of you took down, the darker the space around you got. That was the cons of a basement, you supposed. Once you were both back in his room, he placed the lamp over on a desk.

"Okay, ibuprofen right? I fink I got somethin like tha."

He let go of your hand to open the drawer at his desk, revealing many, many, bottles of pills. You tried to pretend you weren't looking over his shoulder at them all, but you were pretty sure he knew you were. He didn't address it, instead pulling out a specific bottle and pushing the door shut. He held it up close in front of his face, and you watched as he squinted just slightly to read the label.

"'ere we go! Dis should work."

He popped the top of the bottle and dumped quite a large amount on his hand before holding it out to you. You stared for a moment at the pile of pills in his hand before reaching out and grabbing just 2. He blinked, and slowly put the rest of the pills back in the bottle, then dropped it back in the drawer.

"Thanks, 2D. This'll help loads." You smiled up at him. He just smiled back.

You took both pills, faced with the fact you had no water to swallow them down with. It wasn't the biggest deal, but you never were good at swallowing pills, so the bitter medicine dissolved slightly on your tongue before it was gone.

"Blegh." you stuck your tongue out and scrunched your face up, that bitter taste causing you to cringe. You heard 2D laugh at your reaction. "Hey! Rude." You said, but you were smiling too.

"Sorry," he laughed a little again, "Les go get you somfin to drink, yeah?"

"Um, yeah. please."

He starts to lead you back to the kitchen. Your whole time at Kong has been dealing with these blasted stairs. "What yew want to drink?" 2D asks as you reach the car park.

"Got any more soda from last night?"

"No, fresh out, Noodle finished it while yew were asleep."

"Juice?"

"Yeah! We may 'ave some Orange Juice left."

"If it was in the fridge it would have gone bad by now because of the power."

2D sighed. "Then all we gots is water and Murdoc's alcohol supply." You were about to go up the stairs to the kitchen and pause.

"You know any good cocktails, D?" You smiled slyly. Sure, it may only be after lunchtime, but with the clocks out, who really knows what time it is.

"I normally jus drink straight from the bottle." His smile returns your energy, so you turn around and start heading to the Winnebago.

The air starts to turn sour, and you could feel it sticking to your face. When you inhale, it burns your nose and stays in the back of your throat. The stench of death and rot. Of alcohol, sweat, weed, and sex. Of an overuse of Axe bodyspray. You didn't think you would see a grown man cry today, but as you two approached the Winnebago, 2D's eyes watered in a way that could only be described as a constant stream of tears.

"What happened here? Do you think Murdoc's okay?" As you open your mouth to speak, you could feel the stench seep in and can almost taste the putridness.

2D coughed "'e's probably more than okay." He knocked on the flimsy door.

The opening of the door unleashed a plume of stank upon you and 2D. You were expecting Murdoc to greet you, but your eyes lowered until they saw what you could only describe as a zombie in a maid outfit. That was definitely making the article. It gurgled and turned away. A second later, Murdoc appeared, topless. "Hey, Love! Finally come to your sense, eh?" He saw 2D and grumbled, "Ah, why'd you bring dents for eyes? I promised myself I wouldn't make that dream a reality. Besides, my bed's only got room for two." Murdoc leered at you, outlining your body with his eyes. 2D coughed and stood in front of you, causing Murdoc to lean back and cross his arms. "You're blocking her view of all this." He gestured to himself.

"Not to dis one, Murdoc. Not again. We're only 'ere for your booze." His hands balled into fists. You didn't need 2D to speak to Murdoc for you, but you sense something deeper going on here.

Murdoc turned for a sec and grabbed a bottle behind him. "Here you go, Face Ache. It's weak enough for you to stomach, lightweight. And if she," He points at you, "comes to me begging for a shag, later on, then we will both know that you're the issue."

2D takes the bottle and mumbles bastard under his breath. Murdoc leans against the doorframe and grins, cockily, watching you leave. The farther you get away from the Winnebago, the clearer the air looks. "Ah, I can feel my nose again! That stank, right D?"

"Yeah, wha'ever." He didn't look at you, his head tilted down so you guessed he was looking at the floor. He was hunched over and held the alcohol with white knuckles.

"You okay, 2D?" You put your hand on his shoulder.

He shrugged you off. "I jus wanna down dis bottle and forget everyfin 'til tomorrow at least."

You follow him silently back to his room, straying behind so that you were barely within the light from 2D's lamp. He disappeared through the door, leaving you in the dark as you fumbled down the last steps. You find him flopped face down onto the bed, his arms and legs splayed across the whole mattress. You gingerly pick up one of his legs and move it so you can sit on the bed beside him.

"You know I would never sleep with Murdoc, right?"

2D grumbled and opened the bottle, taking a huge swing, not fazed at all. He passed it over to you and you read the label. It was named Satan's Piss and had a cartoon devil on the front. Its main feature was its ABV of 50%, 10% more than vodka. You take a considerably smaller sip and cough, cringing at the strength, causing 2D to snort. At least one of you is getting something out of this.

"Wouldn't be the first time someone's left me for 'im." 2D pulled his limbs in a rolled over so that his stomach was touching your back, his legs close to your side. He leaned on one elbow, purposefully not looking at you. You turned slightly so you could watch him. "I don fink I could efer forgive Murdoc for what 'e did. I 'ad a bird and she and I were togefer efen before I lost me eyes, which I also 'ate Murdoc for, but that's a different story. Dis bird 'elped me frough me recovery and efen joined the band after I became the singer. The guitarist before Noodle." He paused and reached out for the bottle, which you handed to him. He took another huge drink and use wiping his mouth as an excuse to rub his eyes as well. "Well, anyway, Russ found 'er one day in the toilets wif Murdoc, givin 'im a blow job. 'e broke Murdoc's nose, that's why it looks so screwed up." He chuckled a little at that and took another drink. "After that, I tried to use other girls as a way of lessenin the pain. It's what Russel was talkin about in the kitchen. I actually 'ad plans wif a bird for this weekend, but well." He sheepishly looked up at you. "I 'ad dated Rachel Stevens for a bit, but Murdoc scared 'er off. Not the first time it's 'appened eifer. 'e's ruined everyfin for me recently." He ended his speech by finishing half of the bottle and handing it back to you.

"Oh, D. I'm so sorry. Paula, she didn't deserve you." You put your uninjured hand on his shoulder and he looked up at you. From the light of the lantern, you could see that his face was wet.

"She said it was me fault she got wif Murdoc. That she was tired of dealin wif me in me comatose state and that I was too fick efen after I came too. And I know I should blame 'er, but I just can't bring meself to 'ating 'er. I loved 'er, you know? Loved 'er proper." As he was speaking, staring at his hands, you drank some of the alcohol, it really starting to affect you.

Your hand started to move up from his shoulder to his hair, slowly running your fingers through the blue. It looked so pointy, you expected it to be brittle with hair gel or something, but his hair was so smooth and soft, albeit a bit messy. When you touched it, he flinched, but as you continued to brush your hand through, he relaxed and moved into the touch. You didn't stop combing through his hair, loving the way the blue fluff would part on your behalf. As you pet his hair, you could feel him begin to cry, his face in his hands, his shoulders heaving, his breathing unsteady. You heard sniffles and choked whimpers, so you made an effort to prevent any stray hairs from falling onto his face, lest it gets wet. You tasted alcohol as you drank some more to distract you from crying too: 2D didn't need that right now. All you saw was a defeated, broken boy who needed so much more love than anyone could give him.

You put the bottle on the floor and lifted 2D by his shoulders with your good arm, pulling him up into a sitting position with you. He didn't complain, only removed his hands from his black eyes, revealing them to be overflowing with tears and had a vague look of confusion. Then you hugged him, pulling his body close, feeling the heat of him through his clothes, hurting when his ribs would expand only to push out the air as a muffled cry. As if you two had done this a thousand times before, he tucked his head into your neck and it fits perfectly. His hair tickled your face and you continued to run your fingers through it. "It's alright. I'm here. I won't let you go." You whispered repeatedly while your friend conveyed every once of his devastation in tears.

After he calmed a little, he lifted his face from your neck. You could feel how wet it was from his tears and snot, but you didn't really mind. You stopped touching his hair, instead you cupped his cheek with your hand, brushing away stray tears with your thumb.

"S-sorry," He hiccuped, "for crying on yew." He looked up at you, his empty eyes rimmed red and you lost some part of yourself to him then.

You continued to stroke his cheek. "Sh, don't apologize, you're perfect."

His arm that used to lay limply over your shoulder while you were comforting him moved slowly, until it rested at the nape of your neck, tangling itself into your hair. He searched your face for any signs of opposition, but upon receiving none, he pulled your lips to his.

You have never had a worse headache or case of cottonmouth. Luckily it was still night, the noises of nocturnal life just outside, so you didn't have to bother with bright lights. You started to stir, but couldn't move half of your body. Looking over, you saw that 2D had wrapped his arms around your unburnt arm and that one of his long legs hooked around you, essentially trapping you. Had you fallen asleep like this? "Please be wearing clothes, please," You whisper. You saw that you were both fully clothed and let out a sigh of relief. You couldn't remember for the life of you what may have caused this. The last thing you could recall was Paula, the bitch.

#2d gorillaz #2d stuart pot #2d x reader #gorillaz #2d fanfiction #gorillaz fanfiction #gorillaz fandom #stuart pot x reader

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theladyofdeath · 4 years

Text

Thanks, Uncle Cassian {Feysand}

31 Days of Halloween: Day 3.

All installments co-written with @snelbz

Based on a prompt sent in by anon: “ feysand- kid(s) coming to them with nightmares after watching a scary movie”

An extension of @snelbz and I’s 2nd gen series, The Arrival:

*The Arrival {Modern AU ACOTAR 2nd gen PART I} *The Arrival {Modern AU ACOTAR 2nd gen PART II} *The Arrival {Modern AU ACOTAR 2nd gen PART III} *The Arrival {Modern AU ACOTAR 2nd gen PART IV}

Happy Spooky Season, readers!

Feyre had just fallen asleep and was grateful for it. Having three kids under eight was a lot, which was an understatement, especially during the spookiest season of the year.

It was a challenge to get them to bed, and by the time midnight rolled around and their eldest finally shut their eyes, Feyre slumped down next to Rhysand in their bedroom and closed her eyes.

It didn’t last long.

Apparently, at some point, it had begun to rain and a herd of little footsteps could be heard along the hardwood.

“Mommy! Daddy!”

Rhysand groaned from beside her, the first time in hours he’d made any indication that he was still alive and well.

He rolled over, finding Lily standing next to his side of the bed. All that was visible were her wide, teary eyes. At least he thought it was Lily, he couldn't determine if the eyes staring up at him were violet or blue-grey.

“What is it, princess?” He murmured, scooting back towards his wife and tossing the blankets back. She crawled up into the bed, curling against his chest and he heard sigh as Feyre tossed the covers back as well. He glanced back and saw a small head snuffling into his wife’s embrace.

Definitely Lily in his arms.

“Bad dream,” she said, fussing, as she wrapped her little arms around him.

Livy was lying with Feyre, saying the exact same thing. “Bad dream, mama.”

Rhysand sighed and shot a look at his wife. In the dark, she could barely make out his facial features. With a sigh, Rhysand began rubbing Lily’s back.

“You're okay, sweetheart. A bad dream is just that- a dream. Not real.”

It didn’t stop Lily from snuggling into her daddy any less.

Another crack of thunder came before they heard another set of footsteps hurrying down the hall.

Their eldest, they assumed.

The footsteps slowed when they found the bedroom door already cracked and after Feyre heard a quiet sniffle, she asked, “You okay, Ben?”

Bennett quietly shuffled into the room. “I heard the storm, needed to check on Lily and Liv.”

Feyre’s quick glance at her husband showed her that he, too, wasn’t falling for that lie, no matter how smooth it was.

They’d let him think they were though.

“The girls are both in bed with us, they’re nice and safe,” Rhys said, realizing Lily was already dozing against his arm. “You can take the night off, bud. We can watch them tonight.” He winked at his oldest child, even though he couldn’t see him.

Bennett grappled for something to say. “Are you sure?”

Feyre’s eyes softened as she beheld her firstborn in the doorway, his silhouette in the moonlight. “Would it make you feel better if you stayed, too? So you can make sure the girls are okay?”

Bennett was quiet for a moment before he said, “Yeah. I think so.”

Feyre was holding up the blankets before he even finished his sentence, and his little footsteps hurried across the floor and underneath the comforter.

After a few seconds of silence, there was a loud crack of thunder and all the kids gasped.

Feyre looked over at her husband and although it was dark she could see him subtly shaking his head.

“Does anyone want to tell me why they’re suddenly so afraid of storms?” Rhysand asked, quietly.

They were met with silence.

“Did you see something at Aunt Nesta and Uncle Cassian’s that made you scared?” Feyre asked, knowing full well they had had a movie night the weekend before.

Their kids had never been scared of a storm before.

None of them answered.

“Do I need to call Uncle Cass and ask?” Rhys murmured, laying his head back against the pillow.

“It was Thorn’s turn to pick the movie,” Olive said quietly.

Rhys murmured, “Mother’s tits.”

“Rhys!” Feyre whispered. “What did he pick, honey?”

“Tornado movie,” Lily said, glancing up at her father. He looked down and found his own eyes looking back at them. Tucking her in closer, he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “It was loud and scary.”

After a beat of silence, he asked, “Sharknado?”

“No, daddy,” Livy replied, wrapping an arm around Feyre’s waist as she sat up. “Sharknado isn’t scary.”

Bennett scoffed. “Yeah, dad, Sharknado is for babies.”

Rhysand sighed. “Then what-.”

Another round of thunder shook the sky. All three of the kids gasped and hid under the covers as Rhysand groaned, again. “I’m calling Cassian.”

“It’s two in the morning,” Feyre grumbled.

“I don’t care,” Rhysand said, yawning. “I’m tired. It’s late. Bed. Sleep. If I can’t sleep, neither can he.”

“Tomorrow is Halloween,” Feyre protested. “Don’t you dare wake up Nesta, or she won’t be able to function for her-.”

“Tomorrow is Halloween?” Bennett asked, sticking his head out of the comforter. His eyes were wide with terror.

Rhys leaned over and turned on the lamp on his nightstand. “Alright, what’s going on? Ben, you’ve always loved Halloween. We��ve had your costume for weeks.”

“I think- I just want to stay home tomorrow night.”

Feyre stared at her eldest child. “You want to skip Aunt Nesta’s Halloween party?”

Bennett nodded silently.

She glanced back over at Rhys. “Call Cass, he broke our kid.”

He was reaching over for his phone on the nightstand when another round of lightning and thunder shook the house, before it plunged into darkness.

All three kids screamed and Olive began to cry into her mother’s chest.

“Baby, it’s okay,” she cooed. “We just lost power. You are all three safe and sound with mama and daddy, yeah?” She sniffled and nodded. The other two did as well. “Are you ready to tell us what you watched?”

It was Bennett who finally fessed up. “The story of the day the twister hit.”

Rhys and Feyre both blinked, not comprehending. “What?”

“The tornado,” Lily jumped in, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“The tornado that hits every nine years on Halloween,” Bennett added.

Rhys let his eyes fall shut as he dropped his head in his hand. “Uncle Cass told you it comes every nine years?”

Livy nodded and Bennett went on, “He said it last hit right before Thorn was born.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Rhysand muttered.

“Rhys,” Feyre snapped.

Rhysand just rolled his eyes. “Don’t use daddy’s bad language. Look, Uncle Cass is a liar.”

As the room lit up from the lightning outside, the kids were shrieking, their little bodies tense.

“Twister is just a movie,” Feyre went on, when it was clear Rhysand’s sleepy annoyance spiked. “And it doesn’t come on Halloween. Uncle Cassian and Thorn think it’s funny to be scared, and they were trying to scare you.”

Lily’s big blue eyes were teary when she asked, “Why would anyone like being scared? It’s scary!”

“Because Uncle Cass and Thorn aren't human,” Rhys murmured, snuggling back into his pillow. Lily had laid her head down on his chest and her sweet, little hand was pressed against his neck, just like she’d done when she was a baby.

Feyre sighed and said, “Yes, they are human. They just like the thrill of being scared.” She gestured towards the window. “Are storms dangerous? Yes, they can be. Is this one bad?”

Bennett shook his head. “It’s just loud.”

“Exactly, bud. It’s just loud,” she wrapped her arms around Olive, who’d snuggled in between her mama and her big brother, who was crammed next to his father.

Rhys was thankful they’d decided to splurge and get the king size when they’d updated their room the year before. “We’re safe in the house, okay? No tornados are gonna come and get you, not tonight, not ever.”

Lily let out a big, overly dramatic sigh. “I’m mad at Uncle Cass.”

“You should be,” Rhysand agreed. “Let him know when we see him tomorrow.”

“At the party?” Bennett asked, quietly.

Feyre looked down at him, at his face in the darkness. She could hardly see a thing, but she could still see the lingering fear in his eyes. “Aunt Nesta would be sad if you weren’t there, buddy. So would Thorn.”

“I don’t like Thorn anymore,” he muttered.

Feyre looked up at Rhysand, hoping he would give her some help, but his eyes were closed, his breathing steady. With a sigh, she said, “Thorn loves you. He didn’t mean to scare you.”

“But you just said he was trying to scare us,” Bennett protested.

Feyre rubbed her temples, unsure of where to take the conversation. Parenting was not for the weak. “You know what you need to do?”

“What,” Bennett mumbled.

“You need to go to the party tomorrow and tell Thorn that scaring you isn’t okay,” Feyre said.

He turned over and looked at her. “He’s going to make fun of me. Uncle Cass, too.”

Rhys was already trying to fall back asleep, realizing the crisis of the night had been handled. The arm that wasn’t rubbing Lily’s back was draped over his eyes. “If Uncle Cass tries to make fun of you for being scared of storms, you should ask him about Bryaxis.”

“What’s a Bryaxis?” Livy asked.

“The neighborhood dog that nearly took a chunk of Uncle Cassian’s ass when we were kids.”

“Rhys!”

He ignored his wife’s reprimands and yawned, going on. “Thanks to Bryaxis, Uncle Cass is still scared of dogs.” He yawned again, Lily doing the same only a second after him. “Use that information however you will.”

Bennett, despite his mother’s chastisement, chuckled. “Uncle Cass is scared of dogs?”

“Deathly afraid,” Rhysand confirmed. “He pretends he’s not, but he is. Terrified. And you love dogs, right?”

Bennett nodded.

“Everyone is afraid of something.” Rhysand yawned. “But, there’s really nothing to be scared of, Ben.”

The room fell into silence as the storm outside of their bedroom windows raged.

Soon, the girl’s breathing slowed down. Even Feyre fell back into a deep slumber, Lily somehow scooting over in her sleep, one twin on each side of her.

Each, a different side of their mother, a different side of their father. Livy, with her violet eyes, mischievous personality and stunning loyalty. Lily, her stormy, blue-grey eyes, loyal, to a fault, yes, but sometimes too much. Too much that her heart ended up hurt, more often than not.

“Dad?”

Rhys, right on the cusp of sleep, both girls having curled up against their mama, breathed, “Yeah, Ben?”

Bennett’s voice was quiet when he asked, “What are you afraid of?”

The question took Rhysand by surprise. His son was growing up, that was for sure, to ask such a question. He thought of his wife, his daughters, his son.

He loved them all, was so in love with them that it made his heart ache. With love came fear, and that fear…

“I’m scared of a lot of things,” Rhysand replied. He was afraid of losing Feyre, was afraid of losing his kids.

“Like what?” Bennett asked, quietly.

“Like...being alone,” he admitted, softly. “I don’t like to be alone, bud.”

Bennett was quiet for a moment before he said, “Good thing you have mommy and me and the twins then, right? That way you won’t ever have to be alone.”

Rhysand looked over at Bennett, with his hair sprawled out against the pillowcase. He used to wonder what his children would be like, wondered if he would do an okay job parenting them. As he looked at his eldest, he knew they were doing something right.

“You’re right, bud,” Rhysand whispered, and smiled, full of pride. “I won’t ever be alone. And, neither will you.”

“Good,” Bennett said, quietly, before drifting into a dreamless, peaceful sleep.

#31 days of halloween #feysand #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #the arrival #feyre #rhysand #2nd gen #oneshot #fanfic #fanfiction

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myelocin · 4 years

Text

a little slice of you, me, and home | hanamaki t.

synopsis: your son was a little bit like takahiro, and a little bit like you. love, times infinity; found inside a home, in two boys with strawberries for hair.

characters: hanamaki takahiro, you (hmm), your son

genre: fluff, domestic!au, parenting!au

wc: 1300+

a/n: this is a vivid daydream and i lost my shit thinkin ab it. so welcome to my world yes.

you think about how perfectly straight down the middle your three year old son looks.

a little bit like takahiro, when he sniffles then sneezes into the crook of his elbow. where after he looks up at you with watery eyes and a little pout because he feels, as he and your (very grown) husband says, “icky.”

a little bit like you, as well, in the way that after every meal, there’s always the cheese from the burger you ordered scraped and piled in a little corner on your husband’s plate for him to consume. he never complains; takahiro was always a lover for anything and everything dairy.

and the more you think about it, like takahiro, he’s a gentle kind of boy. hands fragile when it came to holding the flowers, and eyes sparkling when the sun broke through the rainclouds. he liked vanilla skies, like you, because he says that it reminds him of cotton candy.

“cotton candy like papa’s hair!” he used to say and you smile at the memory of takahiro always rolling his eyes afterwards. ironically enough, your son had the same shade of hair too.

“we have the same colored hair,” you’d hear your husband say, and your son would only give the both of you another smile as he’d nod his head in laughter.

and this, you think. this must be what happiness is.

this must be the love they tell you stories about since you were a child. hanamaki takahiro was by no means a prince charming. he snored in his sleep, ate the pudding cup you’ve saved for your cheat day sometimes, and always accidentally uses your toothbrush in the morning.

but love and happiness at the same time has never been something that was linear. hanamaki takahiro really isn’t a prince, you think, as you watch him try to feed your son pretending like the spoon’s an airplane as he says “vroom vroom,” as if it’s a fucking car.

but your son claps at his father anyway, so you laugh along with them because happiness is here.

it’s this.

it’s feeling like you’re in a fairytale even if your so called prince charming whispers poop jokes to you in the middle of sex. it’s the way he can never fold a fitted bedsheet and just rolls it into a log for you to fix later on instead.

but your fairytale, is also the moment from three years ago where you watched him hold his son in his hands as sobs wrecked his body. the moment where he broke down to you on the first night back from the hospital, his eyes red and his fears made known to you in whispers.

where he showed you vulnerability, and for that you, as well, gave him yours.

and to think that even though that was the night you cradled a being that was half of you and half of him in your arms, the both of you scared of the world that was anything but secure—it was in that moment where you felt the safest.

so even as you look at him now, cheeks puffed and spaghetti stains on his lips, you feel love overwhelm you. and your son, who catches your eye from across the room waves at you with a spaghetti stain on the corner of his own lips and eyes that mirrored the ones you fell in love with.

love blooms, and happiness—you’re certain of really is this.

this is the kind of love that they tell you to seek for again and again in this life and in every one after this.

a love that makes you feel so infinite and so free. a love that makes you question the world, its foundations, and all the unknowns, but also instills a kind of fortitude that reminds you that for as long as you’re grounded—fear and its finite nightmares could never, in a million years get to you.

takahiro laughs again, and it rings like the chimes around the room on your wedding day. he looked somewhat like a prince then, you remember. white collared suit and a boyish grin with eyes that held his love like night sky that cradled its stars.

“i really am so fucking in love with you, god damn it,” he told you then. issei, from the back laughed at his choice of words for his vows, but you choose to smile at them instead. you come to learn that takahiro chooses to say his most heart felt i love yous when he had snot running down his nose.

much like you, he had a habit of wearing his heart on his sleeve.

and as you walk forward and take a seat next to your son who smiles at you, a forkful of spaghetti in his hand as an offering, you ruffle his hair and kiss his cheek. takahiro grins, pointing at his cheeks before laughing, victorious as you lean forward and wipe away the sauce on his lips.

“tell mama to give me a kiss,” he tells your son.

“mama can do what she wants,” he answers your husband, who snorts in protest at the blatant honesty in his words.

“he’s a lot like you,” takahiro comments, his eyes watching as your son struggles to twirl the spaghetti noodles around his fork neatly. “very thorough with his task.”

you turn your eyes towards your three year old, who grabs the fork with both hands before whispering “vroom vroom,” a couple of times then eating a forkful of pasta noodles. you snort; first at the proud look on takahiro’s face, and second at the fact that your son must think that that’s how airplanes are supposed to sound like.

“nah,” you laugh. “he’s a lot like you in a lot of ways too.”

and you suppose you really do mean what you say, because your son, much like his father, had always been the kind of boy who looked at the world kindly. moved with the impatient flow of humanity very patiently. careful with his words, mindful with the boundaries others don’t even need to set for him, and a love for life evident in the little steps he’s taken so far in life.

your little fairytale, you think, for seemingly the nth time that night, isn’t because hanamaki takahiro is a prince.

now that you’ve thought of it, it’s a lot to do with the fact that as much as he is your husband—he had always been and still is your best friend. still the pinky that links with yours under the sheets, the voice that soothes you in bouts of sadness, and your partner in anything and everything there is to conquer about the trials in life.

a home, with four walls, some pictures framed, others in an album by the shelf you built together. drawings of a family that came in three pinned on the refrigerator next to the magnet souvenirs of the places you’ve traveled together.

his mug, next to yours, on the cupboards. two other boxes of cereals that you never would have bought if you lived by yourself, a different kind of creamer that you think is okay at best, and slices of cheese that you don’t eat in a half empty packet on the top shelf of the fridge next to a carton of eggs.

a crib three years ago, now a bed with strawberry shaped plushies in the middle, and a three year old boy who was half of you and half of him.

the infinite kind of happiness truly is this, you think to yourself.

you doubt that you would ever ask for more.

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mansions-maiden · 3 years

Note

Helloww, I'm here for 3rd request xD

Don't know you like it or not but hw abt MC is sweet, ladylike, polite, never complained, and lovely girl but someday...when comte hold a banquet and yeps mc has low tolerance alcohol and got drunk so herself became 180° 😂😂😂

She started laughing like maniac, shouting and scold the residents like asian mom 😂.

For example : (arthur) DO YOU KNOW WE CALL A HUMAN TYPE LIKE YOU A THOT ?! FROM NOW I'LL CALL YOU ARTHOT

(isaac) OII YOU MINI APPLE BOI, HOW CAN YOU INVENTED CALCULUS?! DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH PRESSURE YOU GIVE TO FUTURE STUDENTS ? I CAN'T EVEN ENJOYED MY SCHOOL LIFE !! YOU MUST KNOW HOW MUCH I WANTED TO KILL YOU WHEN I WAS IN HIGHSCHOOLER !!

Etc 😂😂 you can make what kind of screaming+scolding she will throw at them 😂😂😂 The residents ? OH I WANT TO SEE THEIR STUPID SHOCKED FACES AHAHAHA. Take your time writing it xD and thank you so much before my darlingzzz 😘😘😘❤️❤️

This is gonna be a fun one to write! Sorry this took so much time to write! I have been busy with school works. But I’ve been writing it slowly. here you go! The words in the brackets (..) indicate that she missed saying these words. I had to write the words in a weird way to show that the words were being slurred by mc.

I tried writing it to your ask .Hope you like it!

Everyone was still wearing surprised Pikachu faces as they were staring at sleeping MC. For never had they expected to see the completely hidden side of her.

Previously, that evening~

MC is sweet and perfect lady, as described in the ask. But little did the vampires know what they would be witnessing that night.

The lord of the mansion decided to throw another banquet that night for the second time in the month being the hedonistic man he is. And all the residents were invited, including MC.

All of them reached the venue that evening and in the banquet halls, many fancy dishes were there, waiting to be eaten by people. There were finest of the wines brought from the far away land and the exotic dishes that were never seen before.

All of the mansion residents gathered in a room(kinda VIP room). All have helped themselves with a drink or two and were chatting away. MC stood against the walls of the room, swirling her champagne glass as she spoke to Sebastian.

All of them continued talking to each other.

After some more time:

MC was still speaking when she began giggling to herself continuously.

All the residents: “???????⁇?”

MC:” if only people knew how crazy these idiots are!! bwahahaha!”

Napoleon: “Who are you talking about MC?”

MC: “ Who am I ... talkin bout? I talk about the grreeat ‘men’ in history.." mc continued giggling as her words began to slur.

Arthur: "And why exactly are we 'idiots'? "

MC: "who in the world knew that all of these men would have crazy sides no one ever knows!" She began laughing again.

All of them looked at each other and then at MC. They noticed her flushed cheeks and understood the situation.

“MC, you are quite drunk. You should stop drinking now..”

“ N-no no no no.. I’m not drunk at all.. see,I only drank 1,2,... 4 glasses of champagne! I want to talk! “

MC: “comte! do you know..? arthot went into the town again yesterday even after you shun himm.. But he didn’t let me tell you...! teach him a lesson comte!” MC told as she pretended that she was holding a gun against Arthotur’s head.

“What in the world is mademoiselle doing?” Jean asked with a confused stare as Sebastian replied, “In our time period, we show guns with our hands in that way.. it’s a type of pretend play..”.

“And..wait what? From when did my name change to Arthot?? Did she misspell it??” Arthur asked looking at her.

“ Lemme think.. nope.. You’re ..definitely Art..Thot! yup! That’s it!”

“Arthur.. come to my room later. I should ‘gently’ remind you the rules of the mansion. “ Arthur gulped audibly as comte stared at him with ‘nothing-is-wrong’ smile.

“Arthur, Dazai-san!! Can (you) come here once??” She suddenly asked them with puppy eyes as they came forward. She tried to reach their faces but couldn’t. She pouted a little and climbed onto the couch behind her.

“OWW!! “ Both of them cried in pain as MC twisted each of Arthur’s and Dazai’s ears. “ how.. how dare youu...! How dare you tease.. Is..Isaac?! the only baby of this mansion! Poor boy! He’s traumatized because of you!”

Isaac having the time of his life: “That’s right mc! How dare they tease a bab- wait! Who do you think you’re calling BABY!??! “ Isaac frowned at his yet another new nick name.

Her feet began wobbling and she fell from the couch onto Mozart. “Aww man!! I fell off the couch!!! Bu..but.. this pillow is soo smoooth and silkyy.. yayy! A nice pillow for me..! “ She said as she snuggled her face into her’pillow’, aka Mozart’s chest.

“What do you think you’re doing?! Get her off me! mmph!! “ Mozart began yelling but felt a hand clamped over his mouth. “Shh.. doon’t shout.. and you should.. smile like this. Say CHEEEESE! “ MC said, forcing his lips into a smile with her hands.

MC kept giggling even when Napoleon and Leonardo helped Mozart and sat her on the couch.

(I'm sorry I know that her giggling is too much but I don't know how drunk person acts exactly ^^;)

Leonardo: "How much did she even drink? Why didn't you stop her Sebas?"

Sebastian: "I'm sorry master Leonardo.. I didn't expect her to drink these many. I thought she had high alcohol tolerance.."

Leonardo (stretching hand towards mc): "Cara mia, you had enough fun, c'mon you need to rest up in the mansion.

MC shook her head vigorously . "Noooo! I don't want to rest! I want to talk to all of you~! Why don't you go to sleep ...? Da Vinci~. You've got your bed AKA them... (Pointing finger towards floor and wall) . I'll sing a lullaby to youu.. "

She began humming the tone of the lullaby as she dragged Leonardo with her.

" Rock-a-bye, baby, in the tree top

When the wind blows the cradle will rock

When the bough breaks the cradle will fall

Down will come baby, cradle and all"

"Go to bed renaissance man! And ! Your cigarillos are confiscated by me! Hmph! " She took the cigarillos from his pockets and threw them into the dustbin.

"MC! You sing so good! It's as if the angel herself has sung the lullaby.. what song is it?" Vincent asked with an excited and curious gaze.

" the lullaby..? T'is from my own time.. god! I miss my old days in college! " Everybody heard small sniffles in the room then.

They felt helpless seeing her cry. “What’s the matter cherie? Why are you crying? Is something hurting you? “ comte asked approaching her.

“*sniffle* everything is *hic* alright comte *sniffle, hic*. I just remembered *sniffle* my own time and my friends.. I miss them *sniffle* a lot..” Tears began rolling down her soft cheeks. Everyone looked at each other..

“ A-and.. *sniffle* I also remember the days I used to cry and struggle due to math in college. Especially calculus.. And I’ve heard that Isaac was the one wh- *sniffle* who invented it.. Isn’t it Isaac?” She asked Isaac through the glassy eyes.

Isaac: “Y-yeah... it was me..” He lowered his eyes as if he had done a mistake.

MC grabs Isaac’s lapels weakly and shouted, “Why? Why did you invent calculus?! I remember.. I remember the days I used to stay awakee... until late night, scratching my head and struggling to... to solve them!! I... hatee.. you !!” She suddenly released him and pushed him back, making him wobble a little.

Theo: “what the heck hondje?! how much drunk are you!? your mood swings are faster than Arthur’s snarky comments! “

MC: “ Hey Theo! Don’t you dare call me Hondje.. You’re the hondje... Who doesn’t allow anyone to come near your darling brother like a guard dog!”

Theo was very taken back at the sudden backfiring of the nickname.

MC: “Coming to Vincent and Jean! you both are so adorable. You’re the epitome of purity. I love you both so much. muah!” She sent a flying kiss to both and both the men’s cheeks flushed a little.

Napoleon: “Do you have something to say about me MC?” He asked her with curiosity and a little amusement dancing in his eyes.

MC: “ Well, All I can say ..is.. DON’T GO AROUND KISSING PEOPLE! I can’t.. beliieeve that ‘nightmare of Europe’ went around kissing people.. poor soldiers must have been traumatized..! “

“ I can’t believe the nerve of you all to send me to Napoleon’s room early in the morningg! *gasp* Wait !!This means that all of you have been kissed by him.. didn’t you? Hahahaaa!!” she continued laughing clutching her stomach hard.

“Do you know?! There’s a stalker in the mansion who stalks you all 24/7. And he notes it down in his ‘oh no! they didn’t ‘ notebook! It’s none other than our Seba- mmph! “ her voice suddenly came out muffled as Sebas quickly clamped a hand over her mouth.

“Wait-who is that stalker??” Dazai asked in confusion.

“It’s no one Dazai san. She’s just blabbering.” Sebas quickly replied in a stoic expression.

“Wow.. she speaks truth when she’s drunk Will..” Vincent told Shakespeare. “ She is.. After all, a drunk mind speaks a sober heart..” Shakespeare told him.

“Cherie, you must really go back to mansion now. Come, I shall escort you back home..” Comte said worriedly as he approached her.

“ NO! no comte ~ . See, I-I’m perfectly fine~. And you should stop being a mother comte. For the god’s sake, you’re a man! See, look at your reflection! You’re a handsome man! not a beautiful woman! Ditch all these.. motherly duties and enjoy yourself.~! “ She exclaimed as she turned him towards the mirror.

“And you all~! stop being such a child and stressing out poor comte! Okay?! repeat after mee! from this day forth, I shall look after myself and never stress out mama comte!”

“Do you even like us luv?” Arthur asked her with a knowing smile.

“Well, yes.. of course! Even though you all are handful.. I love you all a lot! I love you all this..much (spreading her hands on both sides)..I want to.. stay here..for..ever..”

Suddenly, she felt the world spinning and lost consciousness. But Sebastian caught her by the waist in the nick of time.

The room suddenly fell silent as the blabbering of a drunk resident stopped.

“Well well- tonight’s play was rather very interesting.. But the curtains have fallen in a very unexpected way..” Shakespeare said laughing and breaking the silence.

Sebastian gently laid her on the couch as she slept soundly. “never expected to see this side of cara.. not that I dislike it though..” Leonardo said as he laughed breezily.

“It felt so entertaining to see her talking her like this.. Though it’s not gentlemanly, I would love to invite her to drinks and make her drunk.. I want to hear those words and keep them to myself..” comte said looking at her.

“Let’s take her home and call it a day.. And let’s keep it a secret among ouselves...” Napoleon added. Everyone nodded in agreement and started towards mansion, still laughing at her words. That’s how they came to know the completely hidden side of mc that eventful night.

-------------------- THE END --------------------

i also wanted to ask you guys if my plots up until now were different or if it feels like I’m writing cliché things..how does it feel?

#Ikemenvampire #ikevamp #ikevamp hc #ikemen vampire xreader #ikevamp dazai #ikevamp comte #ikevamp sebastian #ikevamp isaac #ikevamp mozart #ikevamp theo #ikevamp vincent #ikevamp shakespeare #ikevamp jean #ikevamp arthur #ikevamp leo

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