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hotdamnhunnam · 3 years

Note

Congrats again on 2K. i’m so happy for you ❤️

For the emojis: 🔥☕️🚧

For the character: Jax, i feel like those emojis have a Jax vibe

Thanks for your request for my Emoji Fic Fest! And thanks for the congrats! 💗

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Roadblocks Don’t Suck

Pairing: Jax Teller x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, car sex (quick & rough, light choking, Jax’s leather gloves (they’re a whole kink)) Word Count: ~1.4k Emoji Prompt: 🔥☕️🚧 (key words are in bold)

Jax Teller is a lot of things. Pussy-whipped isn’t one of them, but somehow when you ask for things he gives in to a ton of them. On some level in his alpha male soul that sort of stings.

He’s in the driver’s seat grumpy and grumbling like a five-year-old. You’re really in the driver’s seat with all the power that you hold, over the prince of Charming, destined to be king.

He lights a cigarette. The little flame matches his mood flickering sharply with resentment and regret, that he had caved to what you said.

“How’s your goddamn coffee,” he snaps, bitter and full of sass. Gruffly, to hide the fact that you can turn him into such a goddamn softie.

“It’s fucking lovely,” you proclaim, taking another sip and gloating without shame. This morning you’d asked Jax to drive your car to where the two of you are headed, rather than taking his Harley as he typically prefers instead. You wanted to sit comfortably with your coffee and finish up the book you’ve almost fully read.

He doesn’t know yet you were also hoping you could give him road head.

“Fuck!” Jax suddenly rasps as he steps on the brake just when you reach the end of your book, causing you to look up out the windshield in shock. It’s just a bit of bad traffic but your man sounds as furious as if your car was hit by a damn truck. “Ugh, there’s a fucking roadblock. This shit fucking sucks.”

Jax really just can’t deal with traffic at a standstill. He is seething, heavy breathing, living proof that looks can kill.

Glimpse flashing lights and obstacles with slanted black and yellow stripes to mark construction that’s in progress up ahead. Prince Fuming grits his bright white teeth around his cigarette like he wants someone dead. Possibly you. “See, bitch if we were on my bike I could’ve just driven right through…”

“Would you just stop? Here, I’ll give you a handjob,” you decide, casting your finished paperback off to the side. Sometimes—a lot of times—you’d rather make Jax Teller cum than hear him talk. “Shut up, just sit back and enjoy your smoke and let me stroke your cock.”

“What are we, fifteen-year-old kids? You’ll grab my dick and let me grope your tits?” he laughs, as you reach in his jeans to grip and squeeze his massive shaft. “Get down and suck.”

You take your hands out of his pants and cross your arms over your chest tightly, to tell him no such luck. “Maybe I would have if you’d asked nicely, you bossy little fuck.”

“You love it when I’m bossy.” Jax is well aware that his dominance gets you wet and juicy. “Know it hits you in your kinky little pussy.”

“You don’t know shit about my kinks,” you lie.

“You think?” he challenges with a dark glimmer in his eye. The heat of hell behind his smile. Glances out the window at the standstill traffic and decides to put the car in park so he can make this goddamn ride worthwhile.

Asking nicely isn’t really Jax’s style.

You can act like you don’t want it but there’s no point in denial. Every goddamn thing about him drives you wild.

When he wants something he takes it—bends your will to fight him off and fucking breaks it—snaps a finger and you’re naked—he makes sure you want it wholeheartedly too—but that shit’s never hard to do.

He always has you spouting off a senseless stream of oh God Jesus Christ Jax yes fuck yes in two seconds or less. Knows he’s your ever-living weakness. Face you see when you scream Jesus. Knows you’re his to play with any way he pleases. Knows just what buttons to press, to get his girl to be a wet whimpering mess.

Has you spread out on the backseat, shaking in heat, as he strips off your summer dress. Stays fully clothed because he knows it’s fucking torture when he doesn’t let you cleave against the smooth skin of his chest. Settle for clutching at the leather of his vest. The leather Jax Teller wears best.

Or is it…? Though you’ve never mentioned this before, Jax saw the sparkle in those pretty eyes of yours, when you watched his hands on the steering wheel clad in his leather gloves and thought that shit’s fucking exquisite.

To be honest it’s ridiculous that he’d wear leather gloves to drive a car. Today’s ride isn’t even far. You know it’s just so he can feel more like he’s riding on his Harley and it’s dumb as fuck but you don’t care about that given what a slut you are. Jax in the leather of his kutte is hot enough—but these damn gloves… they have you seeing fucking stars…

You’d wanted him to push your head deep in his lap while you bent down to suck him off. Feeling the smooth warmth of the leather in your hair and on your cheeks as you devoured his enormous cock and showered it with love.

He’d like that very fucking much, without a doubt, but in this moment he would rather see your gorgeous glowing face than have it buried in his crotch. More in the mood to fuck your pussy than your mouth. He wants to watch, the way your inner slut is spinning out—surrenders to his touch… the way your features melt, descending into ecstasy past anything you’ve ever fucking felt… as he traces his thumb across your bottom lip with one hand while the other frames your hips—taking you in his leather grip—tight as a belt, sharp as a whip.

And it’s insane the way it makes your pussy drip. Your brain is on a fucking trip. Can leather get you fucking pregnant? On the road the traffic’s still completely stagnant, but your man will have to get back in the driver’s seat again soon once the cars begin to move. There’s not a lot of time to get into the groove. No time for fun and games and foreplay—just a frantic feral fuck here on the freeway—love and lust one and the same to make and take when you two have nothing to prove.

Outside of sex, you know that it’s your job as Jax Teller’s old lady to continually kick his ego down a couple pegs. But it’s a different fucking story when he’s hovering above you and all set to shove his meat into the aching soaking heat between your legs.

A piece of prey for him to eat. To read your body as it breaks and burns and begs. Jax is the undisputed king when he has you spread in his bed or the backseat. And as his leather-clad hand wraps around your throat you gasp at how it feels so sweet because you know what’s coming next…

He applies just the perfect pressure and oh fuck you’ve never felt such perfect pleasure.

You can feel his power pouring through the leather. You can feel it pounding through your blood, as he plows deep inside your pulsing cunt, that fucking instant, with a savage fucking grunt, rock hard as he drives home and hits a flood, ‘cause you’ve never been wetter. You’re his fucking slut. Forever.

Two or three bucks of his hips—he sucks the prayer of his name off of your lips—tightens that leather fucking grip—your grip on consciousness begins to fucking slip…

Just came undone, though this had only just begun. He spills inside you that same second and you’re both sprawled on the seat sex-dumb and drunk.

Two seconds later all the cars outside decide to fucking honk.

He really doesn’t give a fuck. You’re both so bulldozed by the love you made you probably wouldn’t notice if this steamy little car of yours got totaled by a truck. Honk all they want for all you care—the two of you are far beyond the world out there—you’re stuck in heaven with no plans to come unstuck.

Maybe try fucking one more time to piss off everyone outside and push your luck.

Jax reads your mind because it’s his. Leather glove soft around your throat now as he smiles through a cigarette-and-coffee-flavored kiss. “Maybe roadblocks don’t suck.”

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blogevaawrites · 3 years

Text

BIG DEAL

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Warnings: smut, cheating, angst

Summary: After being away of you boyfriend for three weeks, you come to Chris’s house after he had thrown a party where you met a girl you haven’t see ever. The beginning of the relationship was unconventional so you couldn’t do anything else but suspect.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

There’s something I do when I don’t know how to deal with a situation.

I clean my closet.

I organize it; I try everything on, throw out pieces I don’t wear anymore, or I don’t like. I like to spend time doing this just because I don’t have to think in anything else.

“He’s calling again, you’re not picking up, are you?” Linda asked from the other side of the room. I was surrounded by my clothes and shoes and things, and she was working in her laptop.

“No.” I answered simply and kept doing my thing.

“Isn’t better if you pick up and tell him to stop? This is his tenth call today, and I don’t want to know about texts. This is not right.”

“I’m not ready to think about this.” I muttered. I didn’t realize she got up from the bed and walked to me.

“It’s fine, everything is going to be fine” she said hugging me. Her touch brought tears out of my eyes, but her kindness made me feel safe.

Linda moved to NY a few months before I did, and I could be more blessed because she moved to the next door’s apartment. She has been there since then; our friendship was the kind of you find just a couple times in a lifetime.

“Don’t worry I will be right here. We can clean your closet as many times as you need.”

It’s been three days since I left his house, and my phone has been ringing since then.

I spent my first day watching true-crime documentaries, eating ice cream and drinking wine. The second day I started donating the clothes I wasn’t wearing anymore. And today, I have cleaned the closet three times. Linda enjoyed the first two days, but she hated to organize anything, so she killed time working from my bed.

“That one is pretty sexy. Why don’t we go out to dinner and have a few drinks tonight? Lucy and Vanessa have been calling too.” She spoke.

I thought about it for a few minutes, and I was actually feeling sick of being here.

“Yeah! Why not? I need more alcohol” I joked.

The night went pretty fun, and I kind of felt better and ready to face everything, his apologies, his face and his voice. Around three a.m I was ready to go back home and sleep my hangover. “Are you sure you don’t need me there? Linda asked when I told her I was leaving, she was having a good time and I didn’t want to spoil her fun. “Yeah! Don’t worry, I’m sick of being depressed, I’m ready to be me again.” She smiled at me and hugged me before I left.

The uber ride was fast, no traffic nor people in the street this made my way home calm, and the driver was quite funny. He waited for me to get in the building and left, leaving alone again. The lobby’s lights were automatic, but they weren’t working very well, I knew the way to my door, so I didn’t bother turning my phone’s flashlight on. Going up stairs, I tried to take off my high heels, but something made me get alarmed. A dark big shadow at the top of the stairs. My heart stopped for a second.

“Holy crap! What are you doing here? Why are you sitting there? You scared the shit out of me, asshole!” I yelled when the light of the hallway turned on and all of the sudden the silhouette of a big man appeared at the top the stairs. My heart started to beat in this normal pace when I recognized his face.

“I’m sorry that wasn’t my intention. You weren’t picking the phone. I was worry about you.” His hands went up in a signal of inoffensive. His voice was hoarse and his eyes a little bit swollen and red. I could say he had been crying.

“I’m fine, you can go.” I said, walking straightly to my apartment’s door. I looked for my keys in my bag as faster as I could.

“Can we talk?” he moved to stay behind me while I opened the door. He didn’t get too close to me and I felt grateful for that.

“I don’t want to hear anything, and right now the only thing I want is to sleep.” I got in the apartment and closed the door rapidly. With my forehead rested against the closed door and my hands still on the handle, I listened to him to beg. I missed him, his voice, his smell, his fucking presence made me shake my legs.

“Please, just give me five minutes. I love you and I can’t let you think I don’t. I know I fucked everything up but…” I opened the door before he could finish it. He looked quite surprised when a move away to let him pass.

He didn’t say anything, walked in and moved around awkwardly. I told him to sit with my head. He took a sit on the couch and I didn’t move from the door, with my back resting it in. His eyes stared me few a few minutes, making me feel uncomfortable, defenseless.

“You look beautiful.” He said quietly.

“You have five minutes.” The alcohol in my body brought rudeness out of my mouth. I was tired, kind of drunk and still hurt by him so couldn’t let him get any closer in any dimension.

“I’m sorry.” He said before his hands rubbed his face roughly. “I went to NY to tell you everything. I really did, I felt horrible, and I didn’t want to hurt you, but I knew I had to tell you. Carly thought it too. You know them, there’s no place for any secrete between them. When I arrived in here, saw your face and I felt your arms around me I chickened out. I realize that I couldn’t live without you; for the first time in my life, I was really scared to lose somebody. And that was a feeling I wasn’t used to.” His statements made my heart ache. I wished anything of this had happened.

“So, you lied? Because you loved me.” I knew he wasn’t a perfect boyfriend in the past but that was a shitty excuse.

“I didn’t know how to tell you. When Carly called that night, she heard you in the back then she assumed that you forgave me, and I didn’t deny it. I felt awful but I got into that lie so quickly, I didn’t know what to do.” I sat on ankles, sliding down the wall. I hid my face with my hands trying to avoid him to see me cry.

“I wasn’t joking, honey. You are the love of my life and I didn’t want to lose you. That scare got so real that I couldn’t face it. I’m sorry, I really am. With you everything is different, and I didn’t realize it until that. The fear of losing you got in my skin and it never left.” I didn’t feel him to come closer to me until I felt his hands in mine. As soon as I felt it, I got up and moved away from him. I knew I could fall for him quickly.

“If you have done, you should leave.” I could say walking to the fridge to pour water in glass. My throat was dry.

He looked at me for a while, then took a deep and loud breath and moved to the door.

I saw him walk to the door, to leave the apartment, to leave me. I did understand the scare of losing someone, I had lost a few people in my life, but seeing him leaving it was different, I was losing him, and everything was his fault. That didn’t feel fair.

“Why you did this to me?” The words left my mouth before I could think about it. He turned around to look at me, but I hadn’t finished “Why didn’t you break up with me if you wanted to fuck somebody else? Why were you seeing Ashley? Why did you play along with her game after the kiss?” my voice got louder at every question. I wasn’t a person who yelled easily but I couldn’t help it.

“Baby, I’m a dickhead, I screw up every relationship I’ve ever had. I don’t know why. I promised I went out with her with any side intention, when she kissed me, I felt that fear again. And at the party, I swear I didn’t invite her, I wanted to keep her away from you, I wanted to keep everything what I did away from us.”

“Yeah! That’s why you took her panties.” I said ironically. “What did you want me to do? Kicked her out of the house, making a scene?” He saw my face burning in anger and he continued. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I hate myself enough for both of us.” Said that he took his way again. I didn’t hate him. I loved him. I was needed for him.

I moved quickly to get him; I could reach him by the arm.

As soon as he turned around to look at me, I jumped on his mouth. He didn’t take any longer to embrace his arms around me, pushing my face more against his, as if that was even possible.

We walked clumsily to the nearest wall; he squeezed my butt before holding me up. His hands flew through my tights, caressing them and reached my wet panties. I moaned when I felt his fingers rubbing me. “I need you.” He whispered in my ear. His fingers went to undo his pants and I could get out of his arms.

I saw panic in his face for a couple of seconds. But it disappeared when he saw me got into my knees. I took his hard member in my hands to stroke it a few times before get it into my mouth. He rested his forehead in the wall, and shut his eyes, leaving me caged by his body.

His breathing changed when he opened his eyes and watched my mouth around the head of his sensitive cock. Clenched jaw and hands making fist, he moaned loudly as he was being relieved of great amount of pressure.

My lips wrapped around his cock, taking as much as my throat could, and my hand gripped the rest. I wasn’t thinking, I didn’t want to think. I was tired and sick of the anxiety that this situation was giving me.

I knew this wasn’t a good idea. I wasn’t proud but I wanted it.

“I love your fucking mouth.” his voice brought my back from my thoughts. I started to suck a little bit harder as he was getting bigger. His hips also started to thrust him into my mouth, making me gag at one particularly push. “Shit! Sorry!” he said, taking my face in his hands and making me get up from my knees. “I don’t want to cum in your mouth.” he responded to my unanswered question. We kissed as his hands tried to get rid of my dress, and mine were fighting with his shirt.

Just in my panties, he pickup me up and put me on the hall’s table. Sucking my nipples and rubbing my breast and ass, he ripped my panties and his dick stormed in me.

I yelled in surprise; I was actually more than ready to take him.

“I loved that ones.” I murmured pretending to be sadly for my lingerie.

“I will make it worth.” He said with smile on his face before taking my calves over his shoulders. His thrusts were deep, rough, and needed, I tired to hold on to the table, but his movements got fiercely, and I could feel my orgasm coming.

The table wasn’t meant to this kind of activities. We realized it very late.

“Holy crap!” he said when he saw the table fall, holding me better in his arms. Everything I could do was laugh. He intended to let me go but crossed my arms behind his neck.

“No! Take me to bed!” I whispered in his ear. He smiled before kissing me.

He laid down on the bed with me over him. “Ride me, baby.” he said holding me from my hips.

I started to move up and down on his cock, rolling my hips. I saw he shut his eyes, a signal he was close, so I started to ride hard on him. His fingers were marking my hips as he pushed me up and down savagely. I groaned at the almost painful pleasure.

I felt his body getting tense as he filled me up with his cum.

“God! I love you!” he yelled.

Something woke up inside me, suddenly I felt dirty and ashamed. I hid my breast with my arms as I stood up from bed. His cum dripping on my inner thigh, made me just feel worst.

He didn’t realize, he was still dazed. He took my arm when he realized that I wasn’t coming back to bed. “Come back, I’m still hard.” He muttered with his eyes closed. I let him to guide my body, he made me lay down next to him and cuddle.

“These couple days have been awful; I’ve never felt that bad.” His lips were right next to neck and made me get goosebumps.” I was so scared of not seeing you again.” He said pecking my neck. He turned my hips a little, just enough to let himself into me one more time. I was feeling guilty, I was using him. I wasn’t forgiving him, but he thought I was.

I didn’t want a confrontation; I couldn’t handle one.

His hand held my face to keep kissing my mouth, and his other one at my hip, holding me steady. “Your so good for me.” he said between kisses. His hand went from my hip to my clit. He worked himself in deeper and rubbed me just in the right way.

My body was so tensed and my brain so away from the reality that I didn’t noticed he fell sleep.

I wanted to have sex with him, I enjoyed. I shouldn’t feel bad for him, he cheated on me and lied, but I wasn’t like that.

I woke up with his snoring in my ear. I got out of his embrace needy for water, the hangover was taking my body. I saw my clothes and his’s all over the floor and the broken table. I didn’t get to do the walk of shame, it was my apartment, I was living in the shame.

“Good morning, sweetheart.” His voice resounded throughout the entire place.

“Okay! You are really thirsty” he said when I drank the water quickly. I didn’t answer, I didn’t look at him. The situation was awkward, and he noticed it.

“What’s going on?” he asked from behind. I ignored him again. “Hey! Are you okay?” he shouted and turned me over to face me.

“Yes, I’m just still drunk.” I said softly. I tired my best to look unbothered.

“Can we talk?” he asked.

“Not right now. I have things to do.” I started to pick everything up. “I think you should leave; I really have things to do.” I avoided his eyes. I get repetitive when I feel nervous. He knew it.

“Well, I think you’re acting like a child. What happened last night?” his voice wasn’t loud, but it was hard.

I just could shrug, I felt ashamed, and he was mad.

“Talk to me! Damn! Don’t shut up. You always do that. I fucked everything up, I know. But you kissed me last night, you started everything so, right now please talk! Tell me what is happening!” now he was yelling, he looked mad and kind of sad, the guilt just spread across my body.

“What you want me to say, Chris? I wasn’t thinking properly.” I said, looking how he was getting dress himself.

“So, wasn’t mean a shit for you?” I felt like our roles were reversed. Now he was angry, and I was the one giving the explanations.

“I don’t want to hurt your feelings.” I could say.

“Yes, you do, and to be honest, I understand. I deserved it, but I don’t…” he was wrong, I knew I hurt him but that wasn’t my intention, I loved him, and he knew it.

“I don’t want to hurt you. I’m not like you.” My voice wasn’t soft anymore. We were in the same level, he wanted me to feel guilty, so I was doing the same. I continued “Sorry, but I’m not going to apologize, I didn’t want to hurt you. I felt bad and I wanted to have sex with you, you could have said no, and you didn’t do it. But I didn’t say anything to make you think that I forgave you.” His eyes goy darker with my words. he stared me for a few seconds.

“I couldn’t have said no, you could have given me a glass full of worms and I would have taken it.” I felt he was playing the victim; I could stand it.

“I give you a relationship and you pissed on it.” I said crudely.

The room got in a deep silence and filled with tension and resentment.

“You were right, we shouldn’t talk right now.” He spoke after a couple minutes, he took his jacket and got ready to leave. The scare of losing him went back to my head, but I knew it was the best and this time I stood up to it.

“I don’t want to see you again.” I said when he got closer the door. He looked at me incredulous, but he didn’t interrupt.

“I’m still mad and hurt, so I’m not forgiving you soon. But that doesn’t matter because we can’t be together, I don’t trust you and my insecurity in our relationship will freak you out at some point and it will be worst, for both of us.” I didn’t want to cry but I failed, at least he was weepy too.

I thought he was going to response, but he didn’t, he left my apartment without hesitation, slamming the door.

Tag list: @breezykpop @calwitch @firoozehmoon

#Chris Evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fic #chris evans imagine #chris evans smut #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #Smut #fluff #chris evans fluff #CHRIS EVANS ANGST #angst #big deal #fiction #fanfic #FIC #imagine #chris evans and reader

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aalissy · 3 years

Text

Reverse Crush

Reverse crushhhh!! One of my faveeee tropes haha! I hope that you guys like it too <3. Lemme know what you think!!

AO3

Marinette sighed dreamily, flopping face down onto her bed as a huge smile beamed across her face. Her kwami flitted nearby, laughing quietly as she watched the young girl. Marinette dropped her chin on her hands, murmuring, “Did you see him today, Tikki? Wasn’t he just amazing? I just love him so much.”

She dissolved into a fit of giggles, hiding her blushing face into her hands as she squealed. Her legs kicked behind her excitedly, already replaying the akuma attack in her mind as she thought over their interaction. How could he be so perfect?

Tikki shook her head at her fondly before saying, “Yes, Marinette, I did see Chat Noir today. I’m very proud of you, too. You managed to speak normally to him, too. That’s a great sign of improvement.”

She lifted her head back up, glaring at her kwami whose eyes were glimmering back at her teasingly. Marinette was too giddy to argue, however, and she simply flipped over onto her back, staring up at her ceiling with a dopey smile on her face. She only snapped out of her daydreams when TIkki hovered above her face, waving a hand at her.

“You’re daydreaming again, Marinette,” she said, crossing her arms across her chest.

“I know!” She squealed, slapping her palms to her cheeks as another happy giggle left her. Flushing darkly, she looked over at the wall of pictures she had of Ladybug and Chat. Marinette then smiled softly at her favorite picture. It was one Alya had taken for her personal Instagram account. She and Chat had been out on patrol when it started raining, forcing them both underneath the same umbrella. His eyes were focused on her in the picture and she wondered what he could possibly be thinking about. Was it possible for him to like her back? Could he have feelings for his clumsy, little bug?

Sighing forlornly, Marinette trailed her fingers delicately over his cheek, wishing she could do that in real life. Turning to face the ceiling once again, she blinked in confusion when she heard a light thump on her balcony. Quickly, she shot her gaze over to Tikki and the kwami immediately took the hint, hiding inside the miracle box she had carefully hidden. Pushing herself up and off the bed, she carefully opened her trapdoor, her hand clenched into a tight fist just in case.

Instead of seeing an akuma or a burglar attempting to rob her, however, she instead saw the slouched form of her partner. He was leaning against her balcony, his ears drooped over his head as he stared out at the setting sun. Marinette’s heart stumbled in her chest as she pulled herself up, tilting her head at him in confusion. “Chat Noir? W-what, um, what are you doing here?”

Immediately, he perked up, whirling around to face her with a tight, forced smile. She instantly felt herself soften, her nervousness disappearing to be replaced with worry. Why did her kitty look so sad?

“Purrincess, fancy seeing you here,” Chat responded with a false, chipper voice.

Marinette frowned, scolding the butterflies she felt in her chest after he called her princess. Now wasn’t really the time for her to focus on the fact that he just flirted with her. She was going to help him. Just like how he helped her with so many akuma attacks. Taking a cautious step toward him, she swallowed a lump in her throat before gesturing at her balcony. Giggling nervously, she replied, “I, um, live here.”

“Right. Of course you do,” Chat grimaced, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Sorry for bothering you. I can leave now.”

He extended his baton and Marinette immediately rushed forward, waving her hands in an attempt to stop him. Calling out to him, she yelled, “Wait, wait, wait! Y-you’re not bothering me at all! I-I just... is everything alright? You seemed sad.”

“That obvious, huh?” He gave her a small smirk, shrugging his shoulders.

She flushed faintly before nodding her head. Taking another slow step toward him, she sighed in relief when he reduced his baton. Perhaps Tikki was right. Maybe she was making progress. This was the most sense she had ever made around her partner. Plus, Chat was staring at her with a look she couldn’t quite identify. Her heart fluttered in her chest again before she shoved it away when he started speaking again.

“Come with me,” Chat spoke softly, extending a hand out to her as he jerked his head out toward the city. “I know a place that’ll be purrfect for the two of us.”

He winked at her and Marinette immediately knew that all hope was lost. She was surprised that she didn’t melt into a puddle right then and there. Instead, her words rushed together at a mile a minute, making no sense as she chuckled awkwardly. “M-me, g-go with you? B-but you’re a civilian and I’m a superhero. I-I mean you’re a superhero and I’m a civilian. Besides, I have fomework. Homework! I have homework!”

He blinked at her in astonishment for a bit before he threw his head back in a loud laugh. Marinette turned a dark red, ducking her head down as she tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Was it possible to die of embarrassment?

“Well, that was pawsitively adorable.” Chat said after laughing. She immediately snapped her head back up to look at him in shock. The butterflies roared back to life as he gave her another wink, beckoning her forward with his still-extended hand. “Come on, homework can wait, can’t it?”

Biting her lip shyly, she slowly took his hand, squeaking with surprise as he lifted her up into his arms. Peeking up at him from beneath her lashes, he murmured to her quietly, “Close your eyes, okay? It can get a little windy.”

Feeling her heart thump in her chest, Marinette nodded, wrapping her arms around him as she closed her eyes. She leaned into his embrace, shivers tingling up and down her body as she realized her crush was holding her. This was the luckiest she had ever been.

When he put her down after a few moments, she gasped in surprise. They were currently on top of the Eiffel Tower, Paris’ lights twinkling around them. Whirling around, she faced Chat who was smiling shyly. Gesturing around them, he asked, “Do you like it?”

“Like it?! Chat, I love it!” Marinette said emphatically, “This is beautiful!”

He beamed proudly and, for the first time, she felt like his bad mood had disappeared. Feeling pleased with herself for giving him a genuine smile, she hoped that his bad mood would stay away. Marinette then slowly sat down to look out over her city, a small smile on her lips as she listened to the sound of traffic below. She was surprised when she felt Chat sit down next to her, his hand brushing against hers lightly.

Flushing a deep red, she shifted slightly, hesitant to bring up any bad memories. Sucking in a deep breath of courage, Marinette asked, “So, did something happen today, or...?”

Chat sighed quietly, placing his head on his hand as he murmured, “I was more tired than anything, I guess. My work can get exhausting. Plus...,” he paused once briefly to glance at her before continuing, “I don’t think the girl I like likes me back.”

She immediately felt herself stiffen. Surely he couldn’t be talking about her? She was always so obvious. Tapping her two index fingers together, Marinette murmured, “T-the girl you like?”

A wide smile spread across his face as he gazed at her. “Yeah. She’s a fellow classmate of mine. Very smart and very purrety, too. The thing is, when I flirt with her, she seems to take everything as a joke. I don’t think she realizes I actually like her.”

“Sounds like an idiot,” Marinette muttered under her breath grumpily. So it wasn’t her then. It was some pretty, amazing girl in Chat’s class. That girl was so lucky and she had no idea.

He laughed loudly, nudging her shoulder with his as his eyes glimmered over at her knowingly. “No, she’s really not. Purrhaps a little oblivious but not an idiot.”

Sighing quietly, Marinette glanced away from him, feeling slightly hopeless. If only she could slap some sense into the girl Chat likes. Looking down at Paris sadly, she said, “If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think the guy I like likes me back either.”

“What?! You like a guy?!” Chat immediately turned his head to look at her, a strange expression crossing his face before he backtracked. “I-I mean, w-what makes you think that?”

Chuckling bitterly at herself, she shook her head. “I can be pretty stupid around my crush. I say the wrong thing or I stutter on my words. I’m incredibly clumsy too. I’m sure he must think I’m silly. He probably knows I like him and is trying to save my feelings by not telling me.”

“Hey,” Chat placed his hands on her shoulders, bringing her gaze back to him as he spoke to her seriously, “Marinette, you’re an absolutely amazing girl! Any guy would be lucky to have you like him. And, besides, your clumsiness is adorable. I’m jealous of him already.”

She bit her lip to contain her beaming smile. Chat was jealous of... well, himself! Plus, he called her amazing! He may be in love with someone else but it was her he was bringing to the top of the Eiffel Tower and her he fought akumas with every day. The girl he was in love with sounded oblivious too so maybe she did still have a chance.

Feeling her face heat up, Marinette asked, “Really?”

“Really,” Chat smiled back at her, his hands still on her shoulders as he squeezed them gently.

Feeling giddy, she then murmured shyly, “I feel the exact same about that girl you like. She’s lucky to have you, even if she doesn’t know it yet.”

He blinked at her a few times before a soft, adoring smile spread across his face. “She really is.”

Marinette then turned away from him, a strong urge to press forward and kiss him filling her. Instead of doing that, though, she leaned her head against his shoulder, sighing quietly as she looked out at the city of Paris. This was enough. Even if Chat wasn’t in love with her, she could live with being his best friend. Having him in her life was just perfect for her.

#marichatmay2021 #marichatmay #miraculous #miraculous ladybug #ml #mlb #marichat #marichat fic #reverse crush #reverse crush au #love square reversal

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cherryyharryy · 3 years

Note

this request went above the character limit so basically the one with 🌸 is the continuation.. my request is basically an angst to fluff where y/n and harry are together the fans know it’s not confirmed but everyone knows they’re together and she’s been getting lots of hate recently and she’s frustrated and upset harry won’t defend her and she’s pestering him why in a fight and he says something along the lines of “ i don’t want people to know i’m with you” meaning he’s scared if he confirms...

don’t from the one ending in confirms .. he’s basically scared if he confirms y/n is his gf the hate will get worse but she takes it to mean he’s embarrassed by her and essentially gives him an ultimatum kinda ( idk a better word than that) of either he sticks up for her and tells them to stop hating on her or she’s breaking up with him bc she can’t be with someone who can’t bother defending her

*****

Thank you! I liked this idea, but I still feel like I suck at fluff lol. But I hope it’s okay

WC: 1.4K

*******

The starchy scent of cigarettes replaces the bite of pasta you slip into your mouth. You choke down the food and subtly cover your nose, although it does no good.

“Okay?” Harry squints across the table, the spring air catching on a few curls laced together across his forehead.

You nod, but roll your eyes, angling your head to the man sitting not far enough, with a coffee and ultra lights. His face is hidden by a newspaper when you turn to catch a look, smoke escaping from behind. “I can taste it.”

“Yeah that’s kinda rude.”

You wait a moment before speaking. “Yes. It is.”

When you look again, a plump, hairy arm extends across the table to dig the bud into a tea plate. You let your irritation slip away and continue eating, only to double up on your anger when you hear the flick of a lighter once again.

“I’m gonna ask him to stop.”

“Wait.” Harry catches your hand before you stand up. “We can just go inside.”

“What? No, we shouldn’t have to move because he’s being inconsiderate.”

“We’re outside, love, not much anyone can tell him.”

“I can tell him to stop being an ass.” You push away from the table, but Harry grabs your wrist.

“Baby, please, just let it go. Don’t start a scene.”

“A scene?” You settle back into your chair. “Are you kidding?”

“What?”

You suck in a breath, regretfully, as it’s filled with smoke. “Do you have any idea how many times you’ve said something like that to me in the past month?”

“I just don’t want you to draw unwanted attention to yourself.” He shrugs and sips his coffee. The tips of his ears are red, he’s clearly uncomfortable, but you’re in no mood to let him off. “Don’t want you to have to deal with it.”

“Is that so?”

He nods, unsure if answering you is what you even want.

“I’ve had to deal with a lot of shit,” you lower your voice and lean over the table, “and no one even knows for sure that we’re dating.”

“Shhhh.” You see his brows dip down below his sunglasses, frowning behind the tinted frames.

“Oh I’m sorry. Forgot how to act for a minute. Y’know, maybe you should write up a list of rules you want me to follow so I know how to behave.”

You don’t wait for a reply, successfully leaving the table this time as you march off the patio and towards Harry’s car parked down the block. In an alley. Where the two of you waited until foot traffic died down before going to lunch thirty minutes ago.

The door’s locked so you lean against it, shuffling your feet so you’re not in the sun, or in sight of any passersby.

The car beeps before you see Harry round the corner. His head is down until you’re both inside, turning the air on and pulling out onto the street without a word. Until he can’t take it anymore.

“Listen, I know I make things harder, but it’s only for security.”

“Security of what exactly?”

“Us…”

“I’m not sure what security you’re referring to, because I’ve gotten more death threats in the past two weeks than I would have liked.” You roll your head to look at him, but he doesn’t take his eyes off the road.

“Know that.” He grips the wheel and exhales through clenched teeth. “But it could be worse.”

“I doubt that.” You pull up instagram and scroll through some of the latest comments you’ve gotten, looking for one in particular. Clearing your throat, you recite the message. “I don’t know why you bother with him. It’s sad, how clingy you are and obviously using him. How does it feel to have a dollar sign as a boyfriend? Pathetic. Use that car he gave you to do something useful and run yourself over.”

“Baby, please stop—”

“No, Harry, you have no idea what kind of fucked up things are sent to me. And we haven’t even confirmed anything!”

“I do know! You think I haven’t gotten shitty messages? Like I haven’t been through all this before?”

“Then what’s the point! Why even bother hiding our relationship if none of this goes away? It really hurts when you don’t at least stick up for me when someone makes a snarky comment when we’re in public. Girlfriend or not, I’m a human being, and you just let everything slide so we don’t cause a damn scene.”

“I do too stick up for you!”

“No you don’t! You just suggest we leave. One time you walked away and left me in the middle of a store.”

“I just don’t want people to know we’re together!”

Silence.

Not another word, not another sound until the gate to Harry’s private property screeches open and he pulls up to his house. You’re out of the car before it’s even parked, storming inside with no plan other than to get away from him before you say something you’ll regret.

He calls after you, your name echoing through his huge house, as you make your way up a set of stairs and into a guest room. You slam the door and fling yourself onto the bed, finally letting the tears fall.

He knocks at the door but doesn't wait for your answer, barging in with one last cry of your name. He deflates upon seeing you, crumbles upon hearing your sobs. “Baby.” His hand settles between your shoulder blades as he leans down to brush your hair from your face. “I didn’t mean it like that. Not like it sounds.”

“What the hell could you have meant?” Your words are choppy and tight, catching in your throat before you force them out. “If you’re not gonna defend me, then I can’t have this. Us. I’m not gonna be with someone who cares more about protecting the feelings of complete strangers than his own girlfriend.”

“I do care about you—”

“Like hell you do. That’s why you buy me all kinds of stuff. Make me over so I’m presentable. If you’re that embarrassed to be with me, why would you even ask me out?” A sob takes over. Harry tries rubbing your back, but you shake him off.

“What—embarrassed? The last thing I am is embarrassed. I’m proud to be with you. I love you, and I only buy you stuff because I can afford to do so.” You turn to face him, your vision blurred with tears. “Then why can’t you stick up for me? I’m not asking you to fight with everyone who leaves a negative comment, but something, Harry. I need someone who’s on my team.”

His voice stutters. Similar words he’s used before, referring to the two of you as a team, strike a nerve. He blinks away a few tears of his own. “You’re right. I’m so sorry, baby. I’m sorry I’ve been letting you down.”

You shuffle up on your knees, encouraging him to join you on the bed, and in a hug. “You’ve never let me down. We just haven’t been on the same page with all this.” You sigh, wiping away a few remaining tears. “I understand why you haven’t wanted to say anything, but I think we’re past the point of keeping us a secret.”

“Was tryin’ to hold onto that as long as I could.”

You both climb off the bed, and Harry takes your hand, pulling you into his chest.

“We can have privacy without secrecy.”

He kisses your head. “May not be as private as you think.”

“I know…” You step back to look up at him, letting your hands slip down his arms to rest in his palms. “But it’ll take a little pressure off.”

His brows raise in thought, and he drops your hand to pull his phone from his jacket. Without a word, he scrolls through his photos until he finds one he likes, holding it up for you to see. “My favorite.”

Next thing you know, he’s posting the picture of you two from a few weeks ago—when you’d gone out to dinner with Jeff and Glenne, all dressed up with less than sober smiles on your faces—to Instagram.

“It feels weird now,” you mumble.

“Don’t tell me you change your mind?” Harry chuckles.

“No, no—I’m happy. Proud to call you mine.”

“Never gonna let you feel like I don’t have your back,” he leans down to kiss your nose, “ever. Promise.”

#requested #harrystyles #cherryyharryy #harry styles blurb #requests

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emospritelet · 3 years

Text

Twisted Fate - chapter 27/28

Last time, Gold essentially told Neal that he was his father, and it didn't go all that well. Here's what happened next

[AO3]

Belle licked her lips somewhat nervously as she approached the entrance to the park. It was a walk she and Gold had taken before, though not since she had given birth, and it felt strange to be out on her own with Gideon in his stroller. The maple trees were thick with leaves, the air pleasantly warm in the late spring sunshine, and she pushed the stroller at a sedate pace, eyes casting right and left for any sign of her father.

He was waiting for her near the diner entrance, baseball cap twisting in his big hands, his shoulders a little hunched, and she was surprised to feel a sense of relief at his own signs of nervousness. He smiled awkwardly as she approached, cramming the hat back on his head and wiping his hands on his jeans before stomping over to meet her halfway.

“Hey,” she said. “Right on time.”

“Yeah, traffic wasn’t too bad,” he said gruffly.

He hesitated before leaning in to kiss her cheek. Belle put her free arm around him, and he surprised her again with a quick hug before drawing back.

“So, this is the little fella, is it?” he said heartily, peering into the stroller. “He doing okay?”

“Keeping us up at night,” said Belle. “Alex tends to get up to see to him, though.”

Moe’s smile slipped a little at the mention of Gold’s name, but he nodded.

“He’ll soon settle down, I guess,” he said. “Took you a little while to start sleeping through.”

There was a moment of silence, and Belle tried to think of something else to say. Moe lifted a hand to gesture towards the diner and let it fall against his thigh with an awkward slap.

“Uh - shall we go and see about something to eat?” he ventured.

Belle nodded, and he went to hold open the diner door for her to enter with the stroller. By the time they were seated, their coats off and drinks and food ordered, Gideon had woken up and was staring around with bright-eyed interest. Belle struggled to pick him up out of the stroller with her broken arm, and Moe took over, unfastening the straps and scooping him up in the crochet blanket of soft yellow wool.

“Here we go, little man,” said Moe. “You come and sit with Grandad.”

Belle couldn’t help smiling as he bounced Gideon gently in the crook of one arm.

“Seems a sharp little mite,” he said, grinning as Gideon grasped his finger. “Strong grip.”

“I think he might end up with your height,” said Belle. “He’s got long legs.”

“Nice to think he’ll have something from our side, I suppose,” said Moe. “Not got your eyes.”

“Eye colour can change,” she said. “Hair colour, too. But yes, I think he’ll have brown eyes in the end.”

Moe grunted, but didn’t comment further. The waitress brought their drinks: iced tea for Belle and beer for her father, and she stirred the tea with a straw before taking a drink. He sipped at his beer, looking out the window towards the park.

“Looks like a nice neighbourhood,” he observed.

“Yes, it’s lovely.”

“I guess Gold likes his comforts.”

“No reason he shouldn’t, is there?” said Belle, a little stiffly.

He shrugged, and there was a moment of awkward silence. She prayed that he wasn’t going to pick a fight five minutes into their reconciliation.

“So,” said Moe. “This is your life now, is it? You’re staying in Boston?”

“Until I finish my studies, yes,” she said.

“And after that?”

“Well, I need to find a librarian post,” she said. “So we’ll see.”

“Guess you won’t be back to Storybrooke, then.”

“Not unless the library opens up again.”

“Always thought you might work with me in the shop,” he grumbled, and she sighed.

“That was alright to help out and for something to do between my studies, but you know it was never my interest,” she said. “Besides, I don’t have your talent for it.”

“So you’ll be moving elsewhere?” he said. “Maybe to the other end of the country?”

“I don’t know, Dad.” He grunted, and she added: “I’m not thinking that far ahead, to be honest. Let me get my Master’s out of the way and we’ll see.”

He grunted again.

“How’s the shop doing, anyway?” she asked, in a bid to get off the topic of her life plans. Moe grimaced.

“It’s going okay. Lot of work for one person.”

“I told you to get some help.”

“I told you I couldn’t afford it.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him that he could if he cut back on the booze, but Belle let it go.

“And how are you feeling?” she asked. “Last time we spoke you said you were going to see the doctor.”

He rubbed the back of his neck with an awkward hand.

“Haven’t had time.”

“Dad…”

“Don’t fuss, I’m okay!”

Belle bit her lip and took a sip of tea to keep from snapping in frustration.

“What about you?” he asked after a moment. “You feeling okay?”

Belle wrinkled her nose, but nodded.

“I’m okay,” she said. “A little tired, that’s all.”

“You look thin.”

“Yeah, well, looking after a newborn is pretty hectic,” she said. “I don’t know how people cope alone, I really don’t. Having Alex there has been a godsend, really.”

Moe grumbled something under his breath.

“Took him long enough to step up,” he muttered, and Belle’s mouth flattened.

“He didn’t know I was pregnant,” she said coolly. “The moment he did, he turned his life upside down to provide for me and the baby. Do I need to remind you of the level of support I had from you?”

Moe looked uncomfortable.

“I thought we’d moved past that,” he said. “I told you I wasn’t proud of myself.”

“Oh, and while we’re on the subject,” added Belle, voice sharp with her rising irritation. “What did you think you were doing, telling Alex I was engaged to Gaston, of all people?”

His discomfort seemed to grow, and he shifted in his seat as though he would rather be elsewhere.

“I just wanted what was best for you,” he muttered. “Thought it’d make him back off.”

“He couldn’t have backed off any further if he tried,” she said tartly. “Our break-up was pretty extreme, if you recall.”

Moe looked down at Gideon, who was still staring up at him curiously, and sighed.

“Look, I thought I was doing the right thing,” he said awkwardly. “Not like I knew what would happen. I never wanted you mixed up with that man.”

“Well, I did get mixed up with him,” said Belle bluntly. “We’re now in a committed relationship, and he’s the father of your grandson. And of future grandchildren, if I have any say in the matter.”

Moe looked up sharply, mouth open, and the outraged look on his face made her want to giggle, even as she clicked her tongue in exasperation.

“He’s changed,” she said. “He’s not the same person that broke up with me. He’s facing his issues and being honest with me, and with himself.”

“First time for everything.”

“He’s well aware of his failings,” she said sharply. “He wants to make up for what he did. He already is!”

Moe grumbled something incomprehensible, turning the beer glass between his fingers, and Belle wanted to snatch it out of his hand and dump it over his head. She swallowed her anger down and concentrated on trying to make him see sense.

“He’s good to me, and to Gideon,” she went on. “He’s a wonderful father, and I think he’ll be a wonderful partner, too. He’s already made himself indispensable; I honestly don’t know what I’d do without him.”

“It’s a start, I suppose,” said Moe grudgingly.

“Plus,” added Belle, as if he hadn’t spoken. “I love him. I know you two don’t exactly get along, but I’m afraid you’re going to have to learn. Or at least pretend, for Gideon’s sake.”

Moe wrinkled his nose a little, but nodded reluctantly.

“Suppose I can try,” he said ungraciously.

“Suppose that’s all I can ask,” said Belle, in a very dry tone, and sipped at her iced tea.

The door had slammed shut when Neal stormed out, and Gold leaned his free hand against it, letting his head drop as he clutched the handle of his cane. For a brief moment he considered going after Neal, but dismissed the idea almost immediately. He would need both time and space to process the idea that - what? That he had a father who wanted him? Who had searched for him? Who had failed to protect him?

The oven beeped cheerfully from the kitchen, announcing that the brownies were done. Gold sighed, pushing back from the door and making his way to the kitchen on feet that felt like lead. His mind was a tangled mess, filled with loud admonitions, heavy, cloying guilt and the biting shards of anxiety. It took all of his concentration to get the brownie pan out of the oven, and he still managed to burn his thumb, dropping the pan of brownies onto the cooling rack with a curse hissed out through gritted teeth. He rushed to run the burned skin under the cold tap, eyeing the pale ghost of his reflection in the kitchen window. He looked sad and drawn, insubstantial, as though a part of him had left the apartment along with his son. His son.

Gold shut off the water, leaning on the sink, shoulders hunching as they began to shake with his weeping. He sucked in air, trying to calm himself, but it was as though a dam had broken inside him, torrents of emotion pouring through to drown him. He lifted a shaking hand to wipe his eyes and burst into fresh tears, leaning on the counter to hold himself up as his legs threatened to give way beneath him.

Somehow he managed to get the cane underneath himself and make his way into the lounge, where he dropped onto the couch and buried his head in his hands, his body wracked with heavy, choking sobs. Bae was alive. Alive and well, and with a son of his own. It was more than he could have hoped for. More than he deserved. It was too much.

Belle rolled her shoulders in an attempt to work out the tension as she made her way up the street to the apartment building, the cool of the evening just enough to make her shiver. Gideon dozed in the stroller, oblivious to passing strangers and the steady hum of traffic, and Belle turned to avoid another woman with a stroller, a jogger veering around both of them before carrying on his way at a steady pace.

She had sent Gold a text to let him know that she was on her way back, but he hadn’t responded. Belle hoped that that meant he had been taking a nap; he needed to if he was going to insist on getting up with Gideon every night. What she had told her father about his indispensability was true, and she was aware that the drive and determination that had made him a successful businessman had the potential to break him. He would run himself into the ground trying to care for her and his son if she didn’t remind him to rest.

All things considered, the meeting with her father could have gone a lot worse. He had shown an interest in Gideon, had almost apologised for lying about Gaston, and had seemed, if not exactly enthusiastic about Gold being in her life, at least grudgingly accepting. Over the meal, she had encouraged him to speak further about the flower shop, and life in Storybrooke, and once they were off the topic of her relationship, he was relatively pleasant company. It was a start.

She called a cheerful greeting to Marco as she entered the apartment building, heading for the elevator and letting out a sigh of relief as the doors swished closed and it made its way upwards. The corridor leading to the apartment was silent, and she opened the door, pushing it closed behind her and locking it. A quick peek into the bedroom told her that Gold wasn’t sleeping. The apartment smelled like warm chocolate, and she suspected that he’d been baking something. She shook her head with a fond smile; it seemed she would have to force him to take a break after all.

“Hey!” she called. “I’m back, and I managed not to yell or storm out of the diner, so that’s progress, don’t you think?”

She opened the lounge door, putting her head around it, and Gold glanced up from where he sat on the couch, elbows on knees, his head having been buried in his hands. He had been crying, his face wet with tears, his eyes glistening. She hurried over, falling to her knees on the rug at his feet and putting her hand on his thigh.

“What’s wrong?” she asked anxiously. “What is it?”

“It’s him,” wept Gold. “Neal. It’s him. He’s my son. He’s my boy.”

He began to cry again, his face crumpling, and Belle pushed up on her knees, sliding her free hand over his shoulder and pulling him into a one-armed hug.

“But that’s wonderful!” she said excitedly, sitting back on her heels as her fingers combed through his hair. “How did you find out? Did you talk to him?”

“He came over.” Gold wiped his eyes, dashing away tears. “Dropped off some books for you. They’re in the kitchen.”

“Never mind the books,” said Belle impatiently, and he let out a laugh that was almost a sob.

“That must be the first time you’ve ever said that.”

“What did Neal say?” she persisted. “What did you say?”

“I - I was just talking, really,” he said, his voice still trembling. “About Milah, about Bae. And - and I mentioned Milah’s name, and the name she had given our son, and - and that’s when he knew, I think.”

“So it’s really him?” asked Belle. “It’s really Bae? He must have changed his name.”

“He did.” Gold nodded rapidly. “He changed it. He told me. He - God, Belle, he just left! I told him, and - and he stormed out! I - I don’t know what to do. What do I do? What if he won’t talk to me?”

Belle drew back a little, hand sliding on the smooth wool of his pants.

“I think you should give him some time,” she said gently. “It’s a lot to process. For both of you.”

“Yes.” Gold ducked his head, nodding again. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.”

“He’ll need time and space to think about it,” she added. “And I suppose he’ll want to talk to Emma about it, too.”

Gold nodded, lower lip trembling.

“In the meantime,” she said. “I think you should call Archie, tell him what’s happened.”

“Yes,” he whispered. “Yes. I’ll call him tomorrow.”

“You should keep your Friday appointment,” she added. “Gid and I can drive up with you, and I can go and see Dad.”

Gold sat back a little, a tiny smile on his face.

“Your meeting went well, then?”

Belle pulled a face.

“It went okay,” she said. “I only wanted to smack him around the head a couple of times, so I guess it wasn’t too bad.”

Gold’s mouth twisted wryly, as though he understood her feelings.

“I’m glad it went well enough that you want to see him again, though.”

“Yeah.” She sat back on her heels, chewing her lip. “He was happy to see Gideon, anyway.”

“Good.”

He had dropped his eyes, biting anxiously at his lower lip, and she tilted her head to the side a little.

“Try not to worry that Neal left like that,” she said gently. “It must have been a shock, but you can’t think that means he won’t ever talk to you.”

“I know,” he whispered.

“I know he doesn’t want anything to do with his mother,” she added, “but your part in his early life was very different. You wanted him. That must mean something.”

“Yeah,” he breathed. “But what?”

He glanced up at her, dark eyes wide and anxious and filled with fear, and her heart broke for all the love he had inside him, and all the years he had kept it hidden away and locked up tight to stop it hurting him.

“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “All you can do is be patient with him, and I’m sure he’ll talk to you. I gave Emma your number. Maybe he’ll use it.”

Gold smiled, another tear spilling over and tracking its way down to run over the curve of his lower lip. His hand cupped her cheek, his touch warm, and he leaned forward to touch his forehead to hers, breath sighing out to brush her lips.

“Thank you, Belle,” he whispered. “I already owe you more than I can ever repay, and now you’ve led me back to my son. Thank you.”

She smiled, reaching up to stroke her fingers through his hair as she nuzzled his nose with hers.

“It’s fate,” she whispered. “It wasn’t my doing, it was just meant to be.”

“And without you, I would never have found him,” he said softly. “Thank you, Belle. I love you.”

He kissed her forehead, his lips a soft, wet circle between her eyes, and he lowered his mouth to hers. Belle kissed him gently, lips pulling, tasting the salt of his tears, and Gideon broke into a grumbling cry behind them, making them break the kiss with a soft chuckle.

“I’ll see to him,” she said, and pushed to her feet. “What can I smell, by the way?”

“Oh - brownies,” he said, sitting back and wiping his eyes again. “Can I get you one?”

“Please.” She smiled at him. “Shall we have some tea? And then you and I can curl up and have an early night. I think we both need some sleep.”

Gold returned the smile, and nodded.

“I am in your hands.”

Belle leaned on the kitchen counter, listening to the low hiss of the kettle as the water began to heat. Gold had gone to take a shower after putting Gideon to bed, and she was making a cup of chamomile tea for them both, hoping it would help him get some sleep. Her phone buzzed urgently in the pocket of her loose pants, and she fished it out, smiling a little as she saw Emma’s name on the screen. She swiped with her thumb to answer, nudging the kitchen door closed with a foot.

“Hey,” she said. “You okay?”

“Holy shit, Belle!” exclaimed Emma. “What the fuck?”

Belle sighed, leaning back against the worktop.

“I know,” she said.

“This is - I mean this is insane!”

“Tell me about it,” said Belle, with feeling. “How’s Neal coping?”

Emma sighed heavily.

“Still kind of freaking out,” she admitted. “How’s Alex?”

“He stopped crying, so that’s progress.”

“Shit.”

“Yep.”

There was a moment of silence.

“What do we do?” asked Emma. “This is huge.”

“I told Alexander that Neal was gonna need some time to process the idea,” said Belle. “I think they both will. Alex has spent decades looking for him, and to actually find him, not just a random stranger, but one of my best friends… he’s feeling kind of overwhelmed.”

“Overwhelmed is an understatement,” said Emma. “We haven’t said anything to Henry, by the way.”

“Oh, I didn’t expect you would,” said Belle. “I won’t mention it, of course.”

“Thanks.”

Another moment of silence. Belle hesitated before speaking.

“What’s your gut feeling on how this’ll go?” she asked, and heard Emma inhale deeply.

“Honestly? I don’t know right now. It’s brought back a lot of the crap he was dealing with in therapy, so I’m hoping he goes to see his therapist again. I mean he spent a lot of time dealing with his mother abandoning him, but this is a whole new thing.”

“Yeah, Alex is seeing his therapist on Friday.”

“Hey, maybe we could get a discount for multiple referrals.”

Belle chuckled.

“I doubt Neal wants to drive to Maine each week.”

“Guess not.” Emma was silent for a moment. “How are you coping?”

“Saw Dad today,” said Belle. “He managed not to piss me off too much, so that’s progress.”

“Good.”

“Yeah, he seems to want to patch things up,” she said. “I don’t think he and Alex are ever gonna be the best of friends, but I’m hoping we might at least be able to dump the hostility.”

“Knock their heads together if they’re gonna be assholes about it.”

“Yeah.” Belle sighed. “Right now it’s the least of my worries. I need to concentrate on Gideon and - well, and Alexander. He’s been making really good progress at opening up and being honest with me. I don’t want him to start reverting because things get difficult, you know?”

“You should get him to talk about it,” suggested Emma. “Don’t let him sit and brood. I’ll do the same with Neal.”

“Okay. Good idea.”

“Well, I’d better go,” said Emma. “I think that’s him back from the store. Call you tomorrow?”

“Okay. Thanks, Emma, I really appreciate it.”

“Anytime.”

Emma rang off, and Belle slipped the phone into her pocket, hearing the shower shut off. She turned back to the tea, pouring hot water onto bags of dried chamomile flowers and stirring. Emma hadn’t given an outright no to Neal wanting to accept Gold, and that gave her hope for a happy ending. After all their years of loss and pain, they deserved it.

The next day dawned dull and cloudy, which suited Gold’s mood. He had checked his phone several times during the night, just in case Neal had sent a message. Nothing. He supposed that wasn’t surprising. Belle had been the one to get up with Gideon in the night, telling him firmly to stay in bed, but sleep had been elusive, and so he found himself making coffee at five-thirty in the morning with grainy eyes and a heavy ball of anxiety in his belly.

He carried the cup of coffee through to the lounge and sat down, staring out through the window as the city came to life. His eyes strayed to the toy rabbit, tucked onto the end of one of Belle’s bookshelves, and after a moment he got up to take it down. Sitting back down, he turned the rabbit between his hands, the familiar feel of soft plush fur against his fingertips. He wondered if Neal would remember it, if he would remember anything of the short time they had had together. Not for the first time, he felt a surge of anger at Milah for taking him away, but his rage burned brief and hot, quenched by a heavy wave of overwhelming sadness for all they had lost. Tears pricked at his eyes, and he blinked them away, shaking his head. What’s done is done.

“You know, you really should rest.”

Belle’s voice made him look around with a sad smile. She was leaning in the doorway, the light from the hallway behind her, but he could see the look of sympathy in her eyes. It only made him want to cry again.

“It’s early,” he said. “Go back to bed.”

“I will if you come with me.”

His smile grew, and he set the rabbit down on the coffee table, propped up against Belle’s book pile.

“Alright,” he said. “But I’m bringing my coffee.”

“Deal.”

Lying down beside her felt good, his tired body sinking into the mattress as her arm went around him, and she pressed a kiss to his shoulder.

“Try to get some sleep,” she said softly. “I can get up to feed Gideon. You need to rest if you’re not gonna fall on your face.”

“I’ll try,” he murmured.

He could already feel his eyes sliding closed, Belle’s warmth and scent a balm to his soul. The coffee grew cold on the nightstand.

He woke with a start to find the bed beside him empty. Glancing at the clock he swore under his breath. Ten seventeen? Fuck!

He bounced out of bed, grabbing his robe and pulling it on as he grasped his cane and headed for the kitchen. Belle was making tea, and smiled brightly as he entered.

“Morning sleepyhead,” she teased. “How are you feeling?”

“A little better,” he admitted. “Thank you for letting me sleep.”

“I think you needed it.”

“Yes.”

He had needed it. He certainly felt better, although that underlying fear was still there, creeping beneath his skin.

“How’s Gideon?” he asked. “I didn’t hear a thing. Must have slept like the dead.”

“He was pretty quiet,” she said. “I fed him and changed him - gotta say it’s not that easy with one working arm - and now he’s sleeping.”

“Did you have breakfast?”

“Just tea so far.”

“In that case why don’t I make it?”

He opened the fridge, taking out a pack of bacon and fumbling it in his tiredness. The bacon hit the floor with a slap, and Gold sighed.

“You know what?” announced Belle. “I think it’s a little late for breakfast. What do you say to going out for brunch? We could go to the diner. Eggs Benedict, coffee and cinnamon Danish.”

He smiled, bending to retrieve the bacon.

“That sounds perfect.”

By the time they had drunk their tea, and Gold had dressed, Gideon was awake and clamouring for attention. He took over from Belle, changing and dressing him before tucking him into the stroller. He took a seat on the couch while Belle was tying up her hair, one eye on the stroller, and checked his phone for what felt like the hundredth time. His mouth flattened when he saw there were no messages, and when he looked up Belle was watching him with a look of sympathy in her eyes.

“It’s still early days,” she said, and he nodded.

“I know.”

He turned the phone between his hands restlessly, and Belle put her head to the side.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Fine,” he said automatically.

“Do you not want to go out?” she asked. “It’s okay if you don’t.”

“Of course I do,” he said. “You’re right, I should really eat something.”

“I can live without cinnamon Danish.”

He flashed her a grin.

“Perhaps, but that sounds like a terrible existence.”

Belle giggled, and he slipped the phone into his pocket and pushed to his feet, tugging the cuffs of his jacket straight and grasping his cane.

“Lead on,” he instructed, and she smiled, pushing the stroller towards the door.

“You’ve made the right choice,” she assured him. “I’m sure everything will seem much better after we’ve eaten our own weight in pastries.”

“I’ve no doubt you’re right,” he remarked, still grinning.

“Besides,” she added. “Getting out into the fresh air will do you good. It’s not like staying in the apartment will make a difference, right?”

She pulled open the door, and Neal blinked, fist raised ready to knock. Gold felt his heart leap into his mouth and pound against the back of his throat. He swallowed it down, trying not to let his raging anxiety show on his face.

“Neal!” gasped Belle. “You scared me half to death!”

“Hey,” said Neal, looking uncomfortable. “Sorry. Bad timing, I guess.”

“Not at all,” said Gold, his tone light.

Belle glanced at him, and then at Neal, and beamed.

“Uh - you know what?” she said brightly. “I think I’ll just - uh - I’ll go on ahead and wait in the diner. I could really use a cup of coffee. I’ll see you later.”

She scurried off before Gold had a chance to object, and he raised a hand and ran it through his hair, trying to think of something to say.

“Well,” he said, to fill the silence.

“Yeah.” Neal hunched his shoulders a little. “I - uh - I guess we need to talk.”

“Yes.” Gold hesitated, then stepped back and held open the door. “Please. Come on in.”

Neal seemed to slip past him, shoulders lifted awkwardly and body twisting, as though he wanted to be sure they didn’t touch. It made Gold’s heart sink a little, but he reminded himself that Neal could have avoided him altogether. The fact that he had come over at all was promising. He shut the door behind them, following Neal into the lounge.

“Can I get you something?” he asked. “Coffee?”

Neal shook his head, and Gold gestured to the couch before sitting in his chair, setting his cane to the side. Neal perched on the edge of the couch, threading his fingers together nervously, and Gold was reminded of himself in Dr Hopper’s office. The thought made him want to smile.

“I’m glad you came over,” he said gently.

“Getting news like that isn’t the kind of thing you can just ignore,” said Neal.

“Perhaps not,” agreed Gold. “But even so, I wasn’t sure you’d want to see me again. At least not right away.”

Neal shrugged awkwardly.

“I spoke to Emma,” he said. “And - and I know she didn’t say anything to you about my mother, and she’s the only one who knew her name. So there’s no way you could know unless - unless you knew, right?”

“I suppose not.”

“So I figured we should probably talk.”

“Right.”

Silence, but for the gentle tick of the clock on the lounge wall. Gold threaded his fingers together, in and out, trying to think of something to say that wasn’t trite or just plain desperate.

“I’m sure you must have questions,” he said. “I’ll try to answer them. Whatever you ask me.”

“Okay.”

Gold waited for him to speak, but there was only silence. He bit his tongue to keep from filling it with his own pointless rambling. Neal was looking at the floor between his feet, but after a moment he picked up the toy rabbit on the coffee table, turning it over in his hands.

“That belonged to you,” said Gold, making him look up.

“Yeah, so Belle said. At least - she said it belonged to your son.”

“It’s all I had left,” said Gold quietly. “Milah - your mother took all the pictures. Not sure what became of them.”

“I dunno.” Neal looked uncomfortable. “I don’t have ‘em. Maybe she took them with her. Maybe she threw them away.”

“I hope not.”

Gold thought it was the most likely explanation, but decided against saying so.

“I don’t suppose you remember me,” he added, and Neal wrinkled his nose.

“Sorry.”

“That’s alright. You were very young.”

“I kind of remember this.” Neal held up the rabbit, ears flopping from side to side as he did so. “I mean I don’t have a clear memory of it, or anything, but it seems - familiar.”

Gold smiled wistfully.

“That was your favourite toy.” he said. “When your mother took you, she left it behind. I was frantic. Wondered how you’d sleep without it. I suppose she got you something else.”

“I think there was a bear at some point.” He shook his head. “I don’t know. Like you say, I was very young.”

He ducked his head, and Gold tried again.

“I used to tuck it in bed with you when I read you stories at night,” he said. “You liked to be read to. You liked painting too; I’d put paper down on the kitchen table and you’d make a wonderful mess with the colours.”

Neal said nothing, thumbs stroking the fur on the rabbit’s cheeks. Gold wondered what he was thinking.

“I wouldn’t have been surprised if you’d said you didn’t want anything to do with me, you know,” he said. “I’m sure you blame me for a great many things, and sometimes it’s easier to make a clean break to spare yourself more pain.”

Neal looked up at that, dropping the rabbit back on the table and sitting back a little.

“Like you tried with Belle, you mean?”

His voice was flat, and Gold inclined his head.

“I deserved that,” he said quietly. “Breaking up with Belle was a terrible thing to do. It was one of the worst mistakes I’ve ever made. I was a coward, and I pushed her away. You are clearly far braver than I.”

Neal glanced away, his mouth twisting, but after a moment he looked up.

“Why did my mother leave?” he asked, and Gold let one shoulder rise and fall in a half-shrug.

“She and I were incompatible,” he said simply. “She wanted travel and excitement and lots of attention, and I wanted to provide a stable, secure home for my son. There wasn’t much we could have compromised on, looking back.”

“Guess not.”

“Perhaps it was my fault,” he added. “I knew she was unhappy, but I don’t think I realised the extent of that unhappiness. I never thought that she’d leave and take you with her. Looking back I should have. She was always - restless. Never content. Always chasing whatever she thought was over the horizon.”

“Yeah, I remember that we never stayed in one place long,” said Neal. “One day she’d decide it was time to move on, and we’d take the car and go. I guess maybe it was because she hadn’t paid the rent or something, right? She used to tell me it was an adventure. I don’t even remember going to school all that much.”

Gold shook his head, anger at Milah bubbling up once more after years of simmering beneath the surface. He tried to swallow his rage; Neal didn’t need to see it.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I should have protected you. I should have made sure she couldn’t take you from me. I - I tried to find you, I swear! I searched everywhere I could think of, followed every lead...”

“Yeah, well, when I got older, I guess I looked for you too,” said Neal, shoulders hunching a little. “Hit a dead end pretty much straight away. How come you weren’t on my birth certificate?”

Gold spread his hands, palms upward.

“Because I didn’t know,” he said simply. “As I said, by the time she saw fit to tell me I had a son, you were eighteen months old, and I was young and stupid and didn’t realise the importance of being formally named as your father. Another mistake I’ve been kicking myself over.”

“Was she with someone else?” asked Neal. “Before she came back to you, I mean.”

Gold pulled a face.

“I presume so,” he said. “She never liked to be alone, it has to be said. When she left I assumed she’d had a better offer.”

“So - so how did you know?” asked Neal, ducking his head a little and looking up through dark lashes. “You said you knew I was your son. How? Maybe she lied to you about that, too.”

“Maybe she did,” admitted Gold. “I can only tell you what I felt in my heart when I held you for the first time. I could feel that you were mine. It’s hard to explain.”

Neal wrinkled his nose, glancing away for a moment.

“No, I kind of get it,” he said. “I felt like that with Henry.”

“But with Henry there was no question that you were his father, was there?”

“No, of course not,” said Neal. “But I still get what you mean. It’s - it’s like there’s a bond there. Instant love, right?”

“Right,” said Gold softly. “That’s it exactly.”

Neal nodded, looking down at his joined fingers and swallowing hard.

“You were really looking for me?” he whispered. “All this time?”

“Ever since I lost you.”

Gold could feel a lump in his throat, tears threatening to well up and spill over once more, but Neal shook his head.

“No!”

He pushed to his feet, hands opening and closing as he paced back and forth, shaking his head. Gold got to his feet, stepping forward and grounding the cane between his feet, his heart hammering against his ribs, and Neal whirled to face him.

“I know how much you hurt Belle, how you forced her out of your life,” he said. “How do I know you won’t do that to me? How do I know you won’t do it to Henry?”

“Please!” Gold could hear the desperation in his voice. “I swear to you, I would never do that!”

“Why not?” demanded Neal. “You did it to Belle. You claim to love her now, but you pushed her away like she was nothing!”

“I pushed Belle away because I was afraid,” said Gold, his voice shaking a little. “It was a terrible, hurtful thing to do, and I regret it every day! But I swear to you, son, I will spend the rest of my life trying to make her happy, and - and being the best father to Gideon. And - and if you let me, I want to be the best father I can to you, too.”

Neal shook his head, pacing back and forth.

“Man, I turned my back on my parents years ago!” he protested. “I thought I was done with this! I’d made up my mind that you either didn’t know or didn’t care and I’d made my peace with it! And now - what? You want to play happy families? You can’t make it right! You can't open the story of my life and go to page 738 and think you know me!”

“I know that,” said Gold gently. “I know. You and I have missed time together that we are never gonna get back, and there’s nothing I can do to make it right. I know that.”

Neal ducked his head, almost as though it hadn’t been what he had expected to hear. Almost as though he had wanted reassurance instead of reality.

“But I want to try to build something,” Gold went on. “I want us to - to have the best relationship we can. I’m well aware that I’ve missed almost the whole of your life, and it kills me, son. I swear that I will do whatever it takes to win your trust and - and be a family.”

Neal was silent, staring at him for a moment, and then he let out a heavy sigh, running his hands over his face.

“I don’t know what you could do,” he said. “I don’t know what anyone does in this situation.”

“No,” admitted Gold. “I don’t think there’s a protocol for this sort of thing.”

“Should maybe ask one of those shows where they find long-lost family members.”

“Oh, believe me, I went on a number of those,” said Gold dryly. “With no photographs of you I knew it was a shot in the dark, but I tried anyway.”

“Wow.” Neal shook his head. “That must have been—”

“Soul-destroying,” Gold supplied quietly. “But it was all I could think of left to try.”

Neal stared at him for a long moment, then let out a mirthless chuckle.

“I guess this makes Gideon Henry’s uncle, huh?” he said. “That’s weird.”

Gold smiled, a little thrown by the abrupt change of subject.

“Yes,” he said. “Would Henry mind, do you think?”

“Probably take it in his stride,” said Neal, with a shrug. “He doesn’t let much faze him.”

“He seems a very bright boy,” said Gold, and he smiled.

“Yeah, he’s amazing” He shifted, toes scuffing the rug a little. “I don’t want him hurt. You get that, right?”

“It’s the last thing I want, believe me,” said Gold sincerely, and Neal nodded.

“Emma and I haven’t said anything to him,” he said. “Figured I’d talk to you first.”

“I understand,” said Gold. “It’s a lot to take in.”

“It’s not just that,” said Neal. “More like - we don’t actually know, do we? I know you think you’re my dad, but from what you say, my mother could have been lying. Guess there’s only one way to know for sure.”

Gold felt himself relax a little further.

“A test, you mean?” he asked. “Yes. I could arrange that, if you’re willing.”

“I’d rather know than not, wouldn’t you?”

“It wouldn’t make any difference to me,” said Gold. “But I can understand why it might to you.”

Neal blinked.

“It wouldn’t?” he asked, looking surprised, and Gold smiled.

“You’ve been my son in my heart from the moment I knew of your existence,” he said calmly. “Test results wouldn’t change that.”

Neal stared at him for a moment, then shook his head.

“You really mean that?” he asked quietly. “You’d really want to be a family with - with someone who isn’t even your kid?”

Gold licked his lips, hands folding over the handle of his cane.

“My father never wanted me,” he said bluntly. “He made it very clear throughout his life that I was nothing but a drain on his time, his money and his spirit. When I lost you, he told me I should count my blessings. That I’d been given a second chance at life, and I should make the most of it.” He shook his head. “Family - true family - it isn’t about blood. It’s about those you choose to be with.”

Neal pressed his hands together in front of his face, almost as though he was praying.

“Emma said that to me once,” he said quietly. “Back when we first got serious.”

“She seems like an extraordinary young woman,” said Gold.

“She’s the best,” said Neal immediately. “Way too good for me. I guess maybe that’s something we have in common, huh?”

Gold let out a soft chuckle. There was a moment of silence, and Neal let his hands drop to his sides, shaking his head a little.

“Papa?” he whispered. “Is it really you?”

Gold’s self-control crumbled, tears spilling over as his lip wobbled uncontrollably.

“Oh God, Bae!” he wept. “Oh God, I’m sorry! I am so, so sorry!”

He reached out, desperate to touch his son, expecting him to recoil, but Neal stepped forward, hesitating only slightly before throwing his arms around him and hugging him tight. Gold wept, clinging to him as he felt a loosening in his chest, a lifting of the heavy weight of grief and guilt. He wasn’t sure how long they stood there, but when Neal drew back he too had tears in his eyes. Gold smiled, trying to steady his trembling lip.

“I guess Belle must be wondering where you are,” said Neal, his voice a little rough with emotion. “This is so weird. It’s almost like she’s my stepmother.”

Gold laughed.

“I’m sure she won’t mind that,” he said.

“You should marry her.”

“Oh, I intend to,” he said. “If she’ll have me.”

“Are you kidding?” Neal shook his head, dashing tears from his cheeks with a thumb. “She’s crazy about you.”

“Then I’m possibly the luckiest man on this earth,” said Gold.

“Something else we have in common.”

They shared a grin, and Gold made a decision.

“Would you come to brunch with us?” he asked. “You could invite Emma and Henry, if you like.”

Neal ran his hands over his face and let out a tearful chuckle.

“What the hell,” he said. “Brunch it is.”

#fic: twisted fate #rumbelle #rumbelle fic #my fic

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crispyjenkins · 4 years

Note

Hi can I request something where jaster picks up obi wan early in his apprenticeship like on bandomeer or melida/daan and just adopts him and jango and obi grow up as like childhood sweethearts? Love your work, thanks for writing! :)

(**because they get together as teens, i’ve adjusted the age difference to 2 years instead of 9 because just like. no. they’re 17 and 19 in this!

hmm also i feel the need to say the true mandalorians being chill about showing their faces is super intentional in all my works, i have so. many. headcanons about different clans, and why the covert is so careful about their helmets, and i just never seem to find the time to talk about it (๑o̴̶̷̥᷅ㅂo̴̶̷̥᷅๑) sigh someday)

“Stop smiling, you smug bastard,” Obi-Wan grouses as his would-be suitor awkwardly shuffles away under Jango’s feral grin.

Endlessly pleased with himself, Jango leans against their starfighter and watches the Chiss mechanic disappear into the crowded spaceport. “That’s three you owe me, ‘Nobi.”

Obi-Wan glares at him and snatches Jango’s buy’ce from his hands to shove it on his stupid vod’s head. “I can take care of myself, Vhett. I don’t owe you banthashit.”

“It’ll be easier when you finish your armor,” Jango adds unhelpfully, righting his helmet and strapping it on properly as if nothing had happened. “Only drunks and spice-addicts try to hit on with Mandalorians in full beskar’gam.”

“That’s very reassuring, thanks.”

“If you two are done flirting,” Bosoloc cuts in, their Arconan pilot smirking down at them from the primary cockpit, “we were supposed to meet your buir hours ago.”

Obi-Wan says, “That’s Jango’s fault,” just as Jango grumbles,

“‘Nobi’s fault.”

Bosoloc levels them both with a world-weary look that has them scrambling up the rusty ramp stairs to the secondary cockpit. Obi-Wan helps Jango over the edge and kicks away the ramp, before pulling the lever to close the blast canopy over their heads. With only minor grouching, he lets Jango tug him onto the edge of the seat between his legs, because this starfighter is absolutely not made for three pilots.

“Hands to yourself, spacer,” Obi-Wan says as he follows Bosoloc’s lead to get the ‘fighter ready for the short flight to the nearby moon where they’re to rejoin the Haat’ade and, hopefully, avoid a lecture about safety. Again.

Jango chuckles, impossibly close, and slips Obi-Wan’s own helmet onto his head. “You’re the one that got us into this mess,” he reminds him, somehow managing to fasten the strap under Obi-Wan’s chin without looking.

Bosoloc signals for takeoff, and Obi-Wan elbows Jango in the ribs, leaning over to calibrate the astronav system. Practically oozing his amusement, Jango innocently sets his hands on Obi-Wan’s hips, but doesn’t otherwise bother him until they’re out of atmo, properly refueled this time. Which had maybe sort of, yes, been Obi-Wan’s fault that they had not been when they left Concord Dawn.

Not that he would ever admit to it.

The Haat’ade camp on Aslo II is a whirlwind of activity, commandos in various states of beskar’gam running back and forth from tents to their ships, blaster cartridges exchanged faster than words as supercommandos bark orders and direct the foot traffic, and Obi-Wan lives for this.

The energy, the excitement before a battle, the way his people leak every thought into the Force until he can’t feel anything else. The way this is the closest he’ll ever come to being a knight.

Jango takes one look at his expression after dropping from the starfighter, and shakes his head. “Alright, come on, adrenaline junkie,” he snorts, grabbing Obi-Wan by the arm to tug him right into the heart of the whirlwind.

He senses Jaster before he sees him, their Mand’alor all but glittering in the Force compared to the more muted signatures of the other Haat’ade; Jaster will swear up and down that being Mand’alor has nothing to do with the Force, and Obi-Wan can’t really remember much of what he’d learned in the Temple, but he knows Jaster’s full of it. The whole camp orbits around one nondescript tent, as if pulled by a physical gravity to their leader, and what little he does remember tells him the Force is just as much a part of the Mando’ade as it is the Jedi.

“Buir!” Jango calls as he drags Obi-Wan into the tent where Jaster is standing before a dataterminal with one of the supercommandos. He looks away from the graph Obi-Wan wouldn’t be able to make heads or tails of, and visibly sags in relief.

“And we thought we’d actually have to hold a funeral this time,” Ezovaq says from Jaster’s side, smiling benignly as Jango unclips his buy’ce and bounds forward to accept the hair-ruffle Jaster gives him.

But Kyr’tsad is closing in, and they don’t really have time to discuss the, arguably obscene, number of disappearances the Mand’alor’s foundlings have managed.

Obi-Wan joins them at the terminal, leaving his own helmet on. Jaster settles for knocking his knuckles on his forehead in greeting, and Ezovaq respectfully looks away; some things are not meant for anyone but clan.

“I’m glad to see you both in one piece,” Jaster sighs, turning back to the holoscreen and adding a datachip to the terminal so a map of Aslo replaces the graph. “When we did not hear from Bosoloc, we worried.”

“We needed to stop on Aslo to refuel,” Obi-Wan says on external comm, still unsure about how to speak with other commandos around. “A tropical storm had communications out until we were out of atmosphere. Sorry, Jas’alor,” he adds sheepishly, because of course Jaster knows who would have fueled the ‘fighter on Concord Dawn. Or not fueled, as it were.

Jango shoehorns himself against Obi-Wan’s side, the familiarity of the action catching Ezovaq’s gaze, but they say nothing as Jaster gives Obi-Wan a tired smile. “It is nothing, ad’ika. It is only a mistake repeated twice.”

“Bosoloc is finding another pilot,” Jango butts in, dropping an arm around Obi-Wan’s shoulders as easy as breathing. “She said Montross flew ‘Nobi’s and my fighter in?”

And Obi-Wan feels a swell of pride at that, that Jango is finally admitting they share custody of the rustbucket Jaster had gifted Obi-Wan for his fifteenth nameday, and at the implication that his and Jango’s repairs and advancements had been deemed worthy enough for an actual battle with Kyr’tsad. He isn’t an ace mechanic by any means, but Obi-Wan is still ridiculously proud of their S3 Y-wing – even if using it in combat puts Obi-Wan in the gunner’s chair and Jango behind the wheel.

To be fair, Jango hasn’t crashed them in over a year.

Jaster’s mouth moves as he responds, but Obi-Wan doesn’t hear it. White-hot fire races up his spine, and it feels as if all the air is sucked from the tent all at once, and Obi-Wan has only a moment to try and identify what the Force is trying to warn him of before a light flashes on the terminal and Myles’ voice cuts through the muggy air.

“Vizsla’s dropped out of hyperspace,” he reports, and Jango tightens his arm. “Contact in ten minutes, Mand’alor.”

Jaster looks to them with a parent’s resignation. “You heard the man,” he says, jerking his chin to the tent flap. “Contact in ten.”

“Mand’alor!” they return in unison, and duck from the tent to rush to the Y-wing.

Mando’a: buy’ce — beskar helmet vod — “brother, comrade, sibling”, pl. vode, technically gender neutral but used most often in fandom as “brother”. used here to denote that they are both jaster’s foundlings. Vhett — original form of the Basic-transliterated surname Fett, lit. “Farmer beskar’gam — Armour made of beskar, “Mandalorian Iron” that was actually probably a steel alloy buir — “parent”, gender neutral Haat’ade —lit. “true children of Mandalore”, True Mandalorians (slang shortened to Haat'ad/e) Kyr’tsad — Death Watch, lit. “Death Society”

#two updates?#in one day?#to be fair i'm not sure of the quality #but it feels good to be writing again #jangobi #prompt #ask box is closed but will be open again soon!#fanfiction #prompt fill #haat mando'ade obi #jaster mereel #jango fett #obi wan kenobi #jango fett/obi-wan kenobi #crispy writes #ask #anon #au #i forget how to tag things

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cavalierious-whim · 3 years

Text

Love, Misunderstood (FE3H)

Sylvix | Modern AU | Fake Dating | Teen So, here’s the thing: Felix doesn’t date anyone that isn’t his sabre.

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A/N: I wrote this for the Sylvix Server's Secret Santa Event last year. Read here on AO3 for better quality! And follow me on Twitter here! @Satodee1 on Twitter drew an AMAZING fanart for this fic as well! I cannot believe I've been blessed so. Please take a look here and give them a follow!

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Let go the fear of falling in love.

So, here’s the thing: Felix doesn’t date anyone that isn’t his sabre.

One, there isn’t time. By day he’s almost a professional athlete with dozens of fencing titles to his name, and by night he’s a business student double majoring in Marketing and Finance. His days are full of workouts and conditioning, a carefully maintained diet, and when the sport isn’t on his mind, his academics are.

Two, there’s no interest. None. Whatsoever. Felix has never once looked at another person and thought, Yes, I would like that one.

Which brings him to his current problem: there’s an annoyance in his face that some might think is pretty if they liked overly bleached hair and heavily lacquered nails. Gum pops in her mouth. She twirls a long tendril of hair around a finger like the love interest from a nineties sitcom.

Felix doesn’t just hate; he loathes and despises. Less so the girl and more so at being perceived as a romantic option. He feels as though he does a pretty good job selling the fact that he’s entirely off of the market, even going as far as snarling at hopefuls. Apparently, some people are just infuriatingly stubborn.

Or maybe just oblivious. Felix is starting to lean towards the latter, watching carefully as the girl stares back at him, dreamily.

“So, like,” she says, punctuating the words with a giggle, “I’m a big fan. Of you and you know, your fencing.”

Felix is a hundred percent sure that she has no idea what she’s talking about. What he says instead is, “I’m studying.” Neat and simple, and not even mean. Hopefully enough to fend her off. He’s almost proud of himself.

She blinks at him like she’s trying and failing to process what he’s just said. “So, that bout last weekend,” says the girl, relentless in her pursuit. “You really honed in the touches, winning before the time limit.”

This surprises him; maybe his earlier assessment is incorrect and she’s honestly a fencing fan. Felix meets her gaze and she stares back, smacking her gum, hair still wrapped around her finger, and eyes glinting.

Right, no, she’d just done her research.

“Thank you,” says Felix because he’s not entirely an asshole. “But as I said, I’m studying, so if you would--”

“It was truly riveting,” continues the girl, clasping her hands before her. “Your form is just exquisite.” She says the word like he’s a prized pig.

Felix is losing his patience, his fingers tightening around his pencil and squeezing tighter and tighter. It might snap under his grip. It’s happened before.

“Look,” says Felix, his tone hardening just a modicum, “I appreciate--”

“So, how about grabbing a bite to eat together?” asks the girl, batting her eyes at him in an exaggerated flourish.

Felix opens his mouth to say something rather nasty, but he’s interrupted by someone dropping into the chair next to him. “Darling.” An arm finds its way slung around his shoulder and Felix goes rigid. “I’m sorry that I’m late; got stuck in traffic. You know what rush hour is like.”

It takes everything for Felix to not grab the man’s arm and break his wrist.

Before he can do so though, the man looks to the girl and says, “A bite to eat? All of us? Group dates are always fun.”

The girl, to her credit, looks about as flabbergasted as Felix feels. “Um--”

“Unless you meant alone with my boyfriend?”

Felix immediately starts, turning to look at him incredulously. “Boyfriend--”

“My mistake,” the girl apologizes immediately. “I didn’t, um, realize that you… Anyway, thank you for the chat!” And with a wave, the bleached-blonde bimbo takes her leave.

Felix whirls onto the man next to him, immediately shrugging out of his grasp. “What do you think you’re doing?”

The man is lightly tanned, cheeks dusted with a spattering of warm freckles. His hair is auburn and unruly, curling wildly around his forehead and ears. His smile is crooked, a dimple forming at the left corner of his mouth. Handsome, if Felix likes people. He doesn’t, he reminds himself.

“Saving you,” the man says. “Really, she just wouldn’t let you go. It’s astonishing really, I could feel the leave me the fuck alone vibes radiating off of you from across the shop.”

Felix blinks at that. “I didn’t need help.”

“I think that you did.”

“I didn’t,” repeats Felix, unable to let go of his stubborn need to get the last word in. Glenn used to say that it was the best and worst part of him.

“You could have just told her no.” The man pauses, thumbing at his chin as though he’s amused. “You don’t seem the type to be nice and gently let someone down.”

Felix isn’t; he’s the type to throw books at people instead, and be brutally blunt about what he does and doesn’t want. “I was distracted,” he finally says, “I’m studying for an exam and she just caught me off guard. I promise you, had I been on my game I would have done far worse.”

The other man cocks his head to the side, watching him, and Felix already hates the calculating gaze. “You really go all in, don’t you?” he asks. “Just no fucks given as to what people think about you?”

“I’m not here to date, I’m here to go to school.”

“How boring,” says the man.

“I like boring,” says Felix.

There’s a beat and then, “I’m Sylvain.” Sylvain holds his hand out for a shake. Felix stares at it as though it might bite him, but Sylvain waits patiently. “You owe me at least yours.”

There isn’t a chance in hell that this man doesn’t know who Felix is; his face is plastered across every Garreg Mach University billboard this side of Fodlan. Still, Felix has been raised with manners and he can hear Glenn rolling over in his grave.

Felix hates manners but sucks it up.

“Felix,” he says finally, still ignoring Sylvain’s hand. “Thank you for the help, but I don’t need it. Now leave me alone. I don’t have time to entertain jockstraps like yourself.”

Sylvain eventually puts his hand down and watches Felix for a long moment. Felix doesn’t like the slightly amused grin that seems permanently attached to his face. “Got it,” says Sylvain eventually. He stands and throws his bag back over his shoulder. “Then this jockstrap will take his leave.”

Felix almost feels bad, prompting him to say, “My appreciation is honest. If you hadn’t stepped in I might’ve snapped the girl’s neck instead.” He expects him to run off at such vivid imagery, like so many do.

But instead, Sylvain just throws his head back and laughs, before leaving him be.

“Do you like Adrestian Barbecue?”

This one cuter than the last, pert little nose and wavy locks of brown framing her face nicely. Felix still isn’t remotely interested. “I’m studying,” he says, trying his best to sound at least polite. He’s not very good at it, but the woman pays it no mind.

“This’ll only take a moment,” she says. “I’m wondering if you’d like to go get lunch or something? There’s a great new place that’s just opened up off of Twenty-Fourth Street, and--”

“Babe,” someone cuts in, leaning over Felix’s shoulder, their cheeks barely inches from each other. Sylvain, Felix’s mind supplies before being annoyed that he’d remembered. Felix hadn’t seen him in the shop for a few weeks. Sylvain to his credit doesn’t sling his arm around and immediately drop into the chair without permission, he just hovers next to him. Waiting.

A slight improvement.

“Sylvain,” says Felix. Then pauses, unsure how to continue. He swallows and then, “You’re late.”

Sylvain chuckles. “Traffic.”

Felix huffs, a little emboldened. “That’s the excuse you used last time.”

“And it’s still true,” says Sylvain.

“Um,” says the woman who’s been interrupted. “I was trying to ask--”

“My boyfriend to lunch,” cuts in Sylvain. “Yes, I saw that. I can barely get him to go out with me, what makes you think that he’d have a go with you?”

Felix’s eyes nearly bulge at the aggressive raking. Sylvain seemed like a nice man the last they met, but perhaps Felix has underestimated him. It sounds like a jab straight from Felix’s book.

The woman’s mouth falls open and she gawks but quickly recovers. “Right,” she says. “My apologies, I’d thought-- Never mind that. Have a wonderful day Mr. Fraldarius.”

Felix cringes as she turns and walks away.

“Mr. Fraldarius,” drawls Sylvain, falling into the chair next to him. “I really do have a habit of coming to rescue you.”

“I didn’t need to be rescued,” says Felix, acerbically. “It isn’t my fault that you insist on butting in where you aren’t wanted.”

“So, you wanted to go grab lunch with her?”

Felix closes his eyes, pinches the bridge of his nose, and lets out a frustrated grunt. “Absolutely not.” Sylvain doesn’t say anything, just watches him with unwavering patience. Eventually, Felix says, “Look, I appreciate your willingness to help, but--”

“You know, I could just pretend to be your boyfriend and they’d leave you alone for good.”

Felix blinks and then he scowls. “What?”

Sylvain shrugs, noncommittal. “You study here nearly every day. I study here too. I finally stepped in because you seem to get attention all of the time and it does nothing but annoy you. Seriously, people have no boundaries.”

Felix wants to tell Sylvain that he has no boundaries either, but decides not to fuel the fire. Instead, he says, “There’s no reason for you to help me, you would gain nothing from it.”

“Some peace and quiet. Do you know how hard it is to focus on schoolwork here when women and men are trying to approach you? I come here for the quiet, not to watch the latest episode of Blind Date.”

Sylvain has a point; the people who approach him tend to be rather loud about it. Felix thinks about the proposition for a moment. “No,” he finally says. “You don’t have to study here. Go elsewhere.”

“It’s preferable to my dorm,” says Sylvain, not bothering to elaborate. “And, I think that’s why you study here as well. You hate people and would do anything to avoid them entirely. Even if it means studying in public.”

Felix cringes because Sylvain’s nailed it on the head; the general public is less invasive than Ashe is. His roommate is nice but needlessly curious. “I don’t need your help.”

Sylvain opens his mouth to answer but stops when the barista comes by their table. “Felix,” he says, smiling kindly. “I’ve brought you a refill, yeah?” He drops a take-out cup to the table. “Just let me know if you want more.”

Felix nods, his lips quirking the slightest bit. The boy has always been nice to him and unfussy. “Thank you,” says Felix, genuinely.

The barista leaves and as Felix reaches for the cup, Sylvain raises his eyebrows. Felix’s mood immediately sours. “What?” snaps Felix acerbically.

Sylvain points to the cardboard sleeve around the cup. Felix turns it around to find the barista’s name and number written in curling script. “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” says Felix. But, at least the barista has the decency not to accost him publicly. Felix rubs at his forehead.

“Say that I take you up on your offer,” starts Felix, already wanting to pull them back, “what are you expecting in return?”

“Nothing,” says Sylvain. Felix meets his eyes, narrowing his gaze as he watches him carefully. “Honestly,” continues Sylvain under the scrutiny. “I also like to study in peace, but I don’t like to sit at tables alone. I work better when there’s someone else there, even if it’s not to talk.”

“That’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard,” says Felix.

“So is every person on this campus thirsting after your mangy ass. It’s a mystery to me.” Sylvain bites back just as hard as Felix, it seems. Felix respects that, if only slightly.

“Fine,” says Felix. “But only because I’ve got tests coming up and I’m tired of being bothered.”

“It’s a deal then,” says Sylvain. “We study and pretend to be dating, reaping the benefits of a quiet and quaint coffee shop.”

“You’ll have to be convincing,” says Felix.

“So far, it’s worked.”

Sylvain holds his hand out to shake on the deal and Felix looks at it warily. Then, with a resigned sigh, he takes it. Sylvain’s hand is wide and warm, and it makes Felix want to pull away. He hates closeness and doesn’t do well with physical contact. When they part, Sylvain smiles and then finally drops his book bag from his shoulders, settling in.

Felix hopes to the Goddess above that he’s not making a mistake.

Felix wants to hate Sylvain on mere principle, but they fall into an easy companionship. Felix hates it, hates that he doesn’t dislike Sylvain. But, Felix doesn’t quite like him either, and it’s the last thread of hope that he hangs on to.

A week into the charade, Felix is still stunned by the fact that Sylvain actually studies. He expects Sylvain to joke or flirt incessantly. He hasn’t; Sylvain’s quiet when they sit at their table in the corner of the coffee shop, nose-deep in a math text.

Felix’s gaze narrows slightly when he reads the title. “You’re taking Calculus III?”

“No,” says Sylvain, eyes not leaving his book. He flips a page, looking bored. “It’s a prerequisite, so I’ve already taken it, but sometimes I have to revisit.”

“Already taken it?” Sylvain taps another textbook to the side and Felix’s eyes widened. “Ordinary and Partial Differential Mathematics?” Felix can not for the life of him, think of a degree that would require a course like this.

Sylvain hums. “Yeah, it’s my required math for this semester.”

“For a jockstrap like yourself?” The nickname has stuck and so far, Sylvain hasn’t stopped Felix from using it.

Finally, Sylvain looks up, eyes crinkling in amusement. “I like math,” he says simply, ��and I’m good at it. It’s an easy course for me.”

Felix isn’t sure what’s easy about math that he doesn’t even grasp the purpose of, but Sylvain’s only proven himself to be a weird man at his core. Sylvain looks at Felix’s book in return.

“Statistics,” says Sylvain. Felix has a distinct impression that he’s not remotely impressed.

“A requirement,” says Felix. “If I had a choice, I wouldn’t take math at all. But it’s part of a Business degree.”

“Business.” Sylvain snorts. “What a boring degree. Aren’t you here for fencing?”

“On a fencing scholarship, yes. There’s no future in a sport, though.” Felix narrows his eyes at him. “Something that you should probably learn.”

Sylvain’s got the build of a footballer, though, so Felix knows that he’s likely on that track. But, Sylvain doesn’t really talk about himself much, let alone his schooling. He has a tendency to watch people carefully with a gaze that’s far too knowing.

Felix never likes that look, like Sylvain’s mind is far away and thinking. A thinking Sylvain is likely a dangerous Sylvain. It’s always the ones you least suspect. Glenn would have been best friends with this dolt.

“What?” says Felix, annoyed.

“Nothing,” says Sylvain, turning back to his textbook.

Felix frowns but doesn’t push to ask more.

As the weeks pass, things shift from a tentative, peaceful study, into an actual friendship. Felix wants to hate it; a large part of him wants to loathe it because he doesn’t like people, nor does he like it when people admire him in return.

But, Felix has learned in their brief time together that it’s not all bad. Not every person who is friendly with you wants something in return. Being a Fraldarius has severely skewed the way that he views the general public, but Sylvain seems to have no idea what his roots are, thank the Goddess.

It’s led to a low-key relationship, full of quiet jokes and genuine care. Felix grudgingly accepts it.

Like always, Felix finds Sylvain holding their table in the corner, a cup of coffee already ordered and waiting for him. Bernadetta’s handmade mugs might be odd and a little bizarre, but they serve drinks all the same, even if it loses its heat more quickly.

Sylvain once berated him for his wasteful use of to-go cups and Felix relented without much of a fight. Much to his irritation.

“One large red-eye, black as your soul,” says Sylvain, pushing the cup towards Felix. “I think he threw in an extra shot this time.”

Felix grunts, noncommittally, drops his bag to the ground and slumps into his chair. The mug is hot to the touch, so it must be fresh, and Felix leans over to inhale deeply. Sylvain makes a gagging sound which causes Felix to glare at him.

“No judgment,” says Sylvain. Then he pauses. “Actually, a lot of judgment because only stone-cold dicks can drink that dredge--”

“Go back to the field,” snaps Felix, before taking a sip. It’s dark and bitter as it burns through his veins. Perfection, really. Sylvain just has bad taste.

“Always with the jock references,” says Sylvain. “At least you haven’t called me jockstrap yet.”

“Apt name for someone like yourself.”

Sylvian blinks. “What does that even mean?”

Felix huffs. “An athlete, you dolt.” He takes another sip. “You make fun of my sport enough that it's only appropriate that I do the same.”

Sylvain is quiet for a long moment and then he bursts out laughing. “Wait, wait,” he starts. “You think I’m an athlete? Why?”

“You're built like a footballer,” says Felix. “Infuriatingly tall and broad.”

“Not to say that jocks are dumb, or anything, but with my courseload what makes you think that I even have time to think about playing a sport?”

Felix thinks for a long moment, coming to realize that even with their burgeoning friendship, he knows next to nothing about Sylvain. He’s easy to get along with, they’ve fallen into an easy routine and Felix even finds that studying flies by with little to no thought by his side. Something about Sylvain’s quiet presence in the coffee shop makes it easier to focus.

Still.

“Wait, you don’t?” asks Felix. “Why didn’t you ever say--”

“I thought that you were just insulting me, I didn’t think that you actually thought that I--” Sylvain stops, laughing again. “I’m sorry, this is hilarious. It shows just how bad you are with people. Pure comedic gold.”

“You said you were on scholarship!”

At that, Sylvain raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, an academic one. Astronomy and Astrophysics.”

“Astrophysics?” blurts Felix incredulously.

In retrospect, it’s painfully obvious, he thinks. Suddenly, the textbooks of differential calculus and other various maths and sciences he can’t pronounce make a hell of a lot more sense. He reaches out, lifting the book that Sylvain’s currently working from, eyeballing the title.

“Steller, Galactic and Extragalactic Astronomy,” Felix reads. Then he moves to the next. “Statistical Quantum Mechanics.” Felix meets Sylvain’s sheepish gaze. “You aren’t joking, are you?”

“I’ve wanted to understand the planets ever since I saw Star Trek as a kid--”

“Are you really basing your degree on a television show that you watched growing up? One that isn’t even that good?”

Sylvain’s mouth dropped open. “Oh, you did not just disrespect the best television show to ever have been created.”

“I’m not having this conversation,” says Felix. “I have an essay for Business Statistics, and it’s going to be hard enough to focus knowing that you’re doing experimental math over there.”

“Theoretical math,” says Sylvain, coyly correcting him.

“Whatever,” hisses Felix. “Honestly, being a footballer would be less annoying.”

Sylvain frowns slightly. “Than being smart?”

“What?” Felix scowls. “No, that isn’t what I meant. I don’t give a rat’s ass how smart you are, but really, Sylvain-- Star Trek?”

Sylvain lets out a long breath and Felix realizes that he must be used to being judged. Sylvain doesn’t have the typical look of a scientist when you think about it. He’s handsome and well built, looking like he spends more time on a beach than a mechanics lab.

Felix has the decency to be at least a little bit embarrassed for assuming, not that he’d publicly admit to it.

“Look, just go back to your book,” says Felix. “I’ll go back to mine. And if I have any math questions, I’m going to expect your help.”

At that, Sylvain lets out a little chuckle, different from his usual boisterous laugh. It takes Felix a moment to realize that it’s a genuine moment from Sylvain, one where he’s let down all those walls he’s carefully put up.

It seems that he’s even more guarded than Felix is, something of mild interest. If Felix took an interest in things. He doesn’t, he thinks, but it’s more like he’s trying to convince himself.

“Alright,” says Sylvain. “But I don’t know how much help I’ll be. Simple math confuses me more than this does.”

What a ridiculous thing to say, but it’s not as annoying as the way that Felix’s mouth twitches into a near smile.

In the aftermath of Felix’s assumed snafu, Sylvain makes irritating strides to get to know Felix better. Irritating, because Felix has come to learn that he likes spending time with the genius of a chump, be it lunches between classes, or dinner after their study session. A variety of low-commitment activities that are usually full of small talk that Felix is angered he doesn’t hate.

“Just to be more convincing,” said Sylvain, doing most of the talking like always. Felix was inclined to agree, considering that Annette told him that Sylvain wasn’t his type and the idea of the two of them together seemed frankly, odd.

“I don’t get what the issue is,” says Annette, one day that seems like eons after Felix struck his deal with Sylvain. It’s past winter holiday and creeping into the spring, warm enough to catch a snack at the crepe stand after Annette’s yoga class. “Are you bothered that you like to spend time with him?”

“No, that’s not--” Felix pauses. “I’m not good at making friends.”

“We’re friends,” says Annette, shoving a mouthful of crepe into her mouth.

Felix wants to remind her that they met after she asked him to dinner, and it was the one time he’d said yes. It lasted about thirty minutes before they both decided dinner was a bust and went bowling instead. Annette kicked his ass, looked pretty while doing it and he’d felt nothing in return.

Instead, he says, “You're persistent.” It’s half-hearted and he doesn’t really mean it, but Annette’s cheeks puff up anyway.

“Oh, Felix! You’re evil,” huffs Annette, but she never stays mad at him for long, turning her attention back to her food.

“Sylvain is… different,” says Felix, as they sit down on a bench.

Annette nods sagely. “I mean, yeah, isn’t that why you like him?”

“He’s sufferable.”

“I mean, I’ll admit, he’s an odd choice and definitely not your type but--”

“Wait, Annette,” says Felix. “Do you think that I actually like him? As in romantically?”

She blinks at him, confused. “I mean, don’t you?” asks Annette around a mouthful of food. She’s never been very ladylike, but it’s a breath of fresh air at the end of all things. Normally it would endear Felix. But.

“ What?” snaps Felix, eyes immediately narrowing. “Of course I don’t, this entire thing has been a ruse to get people to leave me alone.”

Annette chews at her food thoughtfully for a second and then says, “But you enjoy spending time with him.”

“I’ve made that apparent,” says Felix. “It vexes me.”

“You’ve admired how smart he is.”

“Infuriatingly so, but it’s useful when we study.” Felix pauses. “Don’t tell him that I said that.”

“You spend your free time with him,” says Annette, gesturing at Felix with her crepe. “This is the first time I’ve seen you face-to-face in like a month, but you go out of your way to see him every day.”

At that, Felix starts, mouth snapping shut as he thinks. Annette’s right, he does go out of his way to spend time with Sylvain. And if they can’t meet properly, it’s texting. Sylvain’s usually the one to greet him in the morning with a corny horoscope that neither of them believes, but still laugh about. And Felix is usually the one to say goodnight, even if it isn’t warranted.

It feels wrong if they don’t share words at least once a day.

“Annette,” says Felix.

“Hm?” hums Annette, cheeks bulging around the last bite of her crepe.

“Am I in love with him?” It’s rhetorical, of course, and dreadful in tone, but Annette answers anyway.

“Would that be a bad thing?”

“No,” says Felix, mouth parted in awe as though the heavens had just been explained to him. Or, Sylvain explained theoretical warp theory and Felix finally understood it. That’ll never happen, but--

“I love him.” The words come easier than he expects and they fill him with unexpected warmth. He wants more of it. He’s also afraid of it, but if there’s anything that Felix is good at, it’s striking something head-on with force.

He hasn’t lost a fencing match in nearly three years.

Annette, blessedly, is quiet for once, just watching him process his feelings. And when he’s done, when Felix comes to his conclusion, she asks, “Do you feel better?”

“Yes,” says Felix, and it’s honest and true, and strangely welcome. He hasn’t felt this good in years. Certainly not since Glenn passed.

“Good,” says Annette, “Now go kiss him.”

Felix’s answer is dumping the rest of his crepe directly into her lap, the loss of his snack well justified.

Because Felix’s life is apparently a romantic comedy, he expects things between him and Sylvain to become awkward.

It doesn't. In fact, everything is disgustingly normal. They keep their study dates, emphasis on the study part. Sylvain still greets him with his coffee order, and on the few occasions that Felix beats him to the shop, he greets Sylvain with his ridiculous white mocha, extra whip.

There are a few differences, Felix supposes.

When Sylvain leans over to help with a math problem, Felix turns to him. They meet eyes more often than not. Felix willingly covers Sylvain’s dinner, which raises an eyebrow because he’s notoriously stingy.

But, if Felix seems off, Sylvain never mentions it or broaches the topic. It’s aggravating, how easy it is to just keep to the routine. And it’s not that Felix doesn’t want more; ever since his talk with Annette, he finds himself entertaining the idea further.

He’s done a lot of thinking. Sylvain’s handsome, there isn’t a doubt about it, but that’s not what pulls Felix to him. Sylvain’s smart as a whip and doesn’t mince his words. And yes, he puts walls up and dances about things personal, but Felix does the same.

And lately, Sylvain’s started to pull those walls down, comfortable in Felix’s presence.

No one’s ever comfortable around him and Felix is struck by how much it means. Feelings are hard and love is even worse. Felix isn’t quite sure that it’s worth it.

But, he hasn’t written the idea entirely off.

“Felix?”

Felix blinks. “I, er--”

Sylvain’s mouth tugs slightly downward at one side. Concerned. “Are you okay? You seem distracted.”

“Fencing,” blurts Felix. “The big tourney coming up.”

“You mean the one two weeks ago?”

Okay, so, Felix has been more distracted than he cares to admit. It’s all Sylvain’s fault. “Sylvain, it’s nothing. I’m just tired. School is draining. The usual.”

“Tired,” says Sylvain, unconvinced. He leans back in his chair, arms crossed and watching Felix carefully. Curse Sylvain’s perceptiveness and his ability to look right through people.

“Look, Sylvain--”

“Felix Fraldarius,” drawls another voice. They both turn to find a familiar face framed by bleach blonde hair and twirling a lock around her fingers. There’s the snap of gum in her mouth as she chews open-mouthed and unflattering.

Immediately, Sylvain is on the defensive. “Hey--”

“Hold it, golden boy,” says the girl, “I know you aren’t really dating. Heard it one day after you grabbed a bite to eat.”

Sylvain’s face darkens. “Have you been following us?”

The girl makes a face at the accusation. “Ugh, as if. It was a coincidence, I swear, but what a wonderful one. Means that I’ve got a chance.”

Felix immediately bites back, hackles raised. “I already had little interest, but as of right now, there’s not even a remote possibility of you having a chance.”

“Is it really so hard to just give it a go? You might even like me.” She bats her eyes in a pathetic attempt to appeal to him, but all Felix can think of his tanned skin dotted with freckles and sun-kissed auburn hair.

“Doubtful,” says Felix, dryly.

It takes only a second for her features to change dramatically, from coy and shy to contemptuous and sneering. “I wonder why I even bothered,” says the girl, before nodding to Sylvain. “Clearly your taste isn’t as good as I would have thought. Haven’t you heard the rumors about him?”

Yes, ad nauseum. From friends, the general public, even Sylvain himself. His problems with women and dating, and commitment issues. His brother and father, and the pressure of family legacy. At first, from those around them who’d heard of their dating, who’d seen them hanging out. People who felt it their duty to warn Felix.

And eventually, Sylvain himself who’s recently opened up about the heavy baggage that he carries around, shouldering it without much of a complaint. If anything, Sylvain’s the one looking out for others.

So yes, Sylvain doesn’t have a stellar reputation, but there’s a lot more to a person than what’s seen on the surface. A lesson that Felix has spent the last half-year learning quite unwillingly.

“Do you think yourself superior?” asks Felix, eyes narrowing at her. “You have no concept of personal space, nor do you seem to comprehend the words ‘no’ and ‘not interested’. Sylvain could murder someone in cold blood and still have twice the worth that you hold.”

“It’s a wonder, why you would even consider him,” scoffs the girl.

“Obviously it’s because I love him and despite the terrible things the lot of you gossip about, he makes me perfectly happy.”

The table goes quiet, both the girl and Sylvain staring at him. Likely, for different reasons. Felix didn’t mean to say it so plainly, but he’s never been good at pulling his punches, even when it comes to verbal lashings.

Besides, she brought it upon herself.

And against all odds, Felix feels wholly and utterly satisfied, not a moment of regret at his confession. He takes a sip of his coffee, fingers curled around his mug tenderly, meeting her gaze head-on.

“You should leave,” says Sylvain, before the girl can even respond. She opens her mouth to retort, but stops when Sylvain smiles at her. Only it isn’t a smile, it’s a nasty-looking smirk, more like a wolf that’s about to pounce its prey.

Wisely, she backs off, huffing in annoyance as she turns and leaves.

And then there are two, sitting at a table in silence. Felix is oddly comfortable, sipping at his drink while Sylvain’s mouth opens and closes. Thinking about what he’s going to say. Felix supposes that he’s opened the inevitable can of worms.

“So,” starts Sylvain, “correct me if I’m wrong, but when you said that you love me, it sounded pretty genuine.”

Felix scoffs, he can’t help it. “I always mean the things that I say.”

He expects Sylvain to bolt, to run away, to want nothing to do with this. Instead, Sylvain smiles, small and real, regarding Felix with a kind of warmth that immediately sets him on high alert.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” asks Felix, testily. But Sylvain only chuckles, soft at first and then louder. “Really Sylvain? You’re laughing? Right now?”

“Sorry,” says Sylvain, “It’s not actually funny-- okay, that’s a lie, it’s hilarious.”

Felix frowns, sneering defensively. “Is the idea of me loving someone, least of all you, so entertaining?”

“No, that’s not it.”

“Then what is it?” demands Felix, exasperated. Sylvain’s not one to beat around the bush, but he can’t seem to find his words, too busy being amused by Felix’s feelings, to his utter embarrassment.

“It’s because I love you too.”

Felix’s mouth falls open because that’s the last thing he expects Sylvain to say. He doesn’t answer, gaping openly at Sylvain, floundering for an explanation. Eventually, Sylvain finds himself, clearing his throat slightly.

Sylvain looks to Felix’s face and then his gaze drops to where his hand rests on the table. Considering. Felix really hopes that he’s not planning on taking it, but Sylvain does, fingers tugging at his palm gently.

Felix lets it happen, settling on the explanation that he’s just not like himself at the moment.

“Felix,” says Sylvain, this time quieter and more serious. He thumbs at Felix’s knuckles, the touch soft and hesitant. “I’ll admit, I’m a little bit relieved.”

“I’m annoyed,” says Felix. “I’ve been annoyed since the moment I realized it because all I’ve been able to do is think of you. It’s infuriating in the worst of ways.”

There’s a moment that passes as they watch each other, Sylvain’s hand practically burning around Felix’s. And then, Sylvain says, “Felix, can I kiss you?”

Yes, Felix thinks. It’s such a foreign feeling that he nearly pulls away but he doesn’t. He’s determined to indulge. It’s about time he’s enjoyed something in his life.

So, what he says instead is, “If you must,” the words clipped but his usual crustiness softer than normal. It makes Sylvain smile at him again, looking at Felix like he can see right through him.

Sylvain leans forward smoothly, cupping Felix’s jaw in his other hand. He’s still looking at him, like he’s some sort of treasure, paused right before Felix’s mouth. And that makes Felix impatient.

Felix is the one to close the distance, sealing their lips together like a promise. Sylvain’s mouth is soft under his, but he responds eagerly, his han moving to the back of his neck. Felix has never really put stock into the whole sparks flew and things were felt nonsense. Turns out that he’d been wrong and that kissing is kind of everything. All he can think of is Sylvain’s presence and the solid weight of him as he leans in.

Sylvain licks into the kiss, but only just barely, coaxing a tad more than just a mild response from Felix. And Felix can feel his skin burning bright red with strain, or embarrassment, or maybe just the idea that they’re doing this in public.

He doesn’t care, Felix wants more, fingers curling into Sylvain’s shirt and tugging slightly.

Eventually, they part because breathing is necessary and even Felix requires air. Regrettably. He wants to go back in, to kiss Sylvain again, just one more time before he gains his senses back and thinks better of it.

But first.

“You know, I’ll kill you if you hurt me,” says Felix, fingers tightening their grip around Sylvain’s shirt.

Sylvain laughs, leaning close to Felix's ear and pressing a soft kiss there. “I know. But that’s a chance I’m willing to take.”

#fe3h #fire emblem three houses #fire emblem fanfiction #fire emblem three houses fanfiction #felix x sylvain #sylvix #sylvain/felix #sylvain jose gautier #felix hugo fraldarius

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obiwanobi · 4 years

Note

In the Sith Senator au, I imagine that sheev introduces them either at a dinner party or maybe at a gala? anakin is in his robes as always and obiwan is super dressed up because he's a respectable senator thank you very much and he calls anakin darling and sweet thing and stuff like that and within an hour he has anakin wrapped around his finger

Okay, so WHY NOT BOTH? The last long post about this AU was painful, so have some “hate at first sight” and “0.2 sec for Obi-Wan to fix it and learn that banter and endearments can turn Anakin into a very charming mess”

The first time they met, Obi-Wan has just been elected Senator after working in politics on Stewjon for years, making enough important friends and empty promises to be re-elected even without showing his face on Stewjon until the next decade. It’s his first month back on Coruscant, close to Sidious after years on his own. He needs to show him that his presence here, so close to his Master, is right, and can only benefit their plans. Even when everything isn’t… great.

The committee of small planets of the mid rim is pestering him to join their sad little club of useless dustballs, he has dozens of demands of various needy mayors, dignitaries and even ministers from Stewjon to reply to, the Senate security staff are a bunch of lazy bastards who still haven’t given him his pass and badge to enter and exit the building whenever he wants to and keep pretending not to recognize him even though they force him to go through a full security check every morning, and he can’t find a decent assistant to hire.

You could say that Senator Kenobi is a bit on edge.

He really, really doesn’t need to be late to his first real, private meeting with Sidious, especially because his only excuse is ‘I forgot how busy traffic was on Coruscant in the morning, don’t blame me I’m used to the countryside and seeing more sheep than ships on my way to work”. That would probably not go too well.

Looking at his chrono every twenty seconds, he doesn’t pay enough attention to where he’s going and doesn’t notice the man turning at a corner on his side, running fast enough to come crashing against him without having the chance to do anything about it.

One second, a sharp cry, a flurry of dark robes and a cup of tea flying, and they’re both on the ground.

Obi-Wan isn’t pleased. You could say he’s even a bit exasperated, lying on his back, a stranger’s elbow digging in his stomach. And then he turns his head to see who’s stupid enough to run in the Senate’s corridors on a Monday morning and almost curses out loud when he recognises Jedi robes and a stupid Padawan’s braid.

It’s fine. He’s fine. He’s used to suppressing his Force-presence so no one can feel him and he’s not going to make a scene to attract more attention. He’s going to inhale and exhale slowly, accept the deepest of apologies from the stupid Jedi with a benevolent smile, repress his need to do something harsh, and be on his way.

But then the Padawan groans, rubs his head and asks reproachfully why Obi-Wan didn’t watch where he was going.

It’s eight am, half of his (expensive and only sold on Stewjon) tea on the floor, and Obi-Wan already wants to strangle a Jedi.

So, there is a shouting match.

Words like “pathetic life form” and “karking useless politician” are thrown, and it takes almost half a minute for Obi-Wan to realise that he’s arguing with a dumb teenager and that they’re still on the floor, half on top of each other. He, very politely, asks the Padawan to get the kriff up, doesn’t take the time to even look at the remains of his cup of tea after salvaging his wet datapad from the puddle on the ground, and leaves with one last silent death glare.

“You’re not even going to clean that?” the Padawan yells in his back, sounding revolted.

Obi-Wan rolls his eyes. What are droids for these days?

“You’re late,” Palpatine says flatly the instant the door of his office closes behind Obi-Wan. “Make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

“Yes, Master.”

“Call me Chancellor for now. I want you to meet someone and he should be here soon. He could become important, maybe even crucial for our plans.”

“Oh? Another Senator or representative to charm?”

“Even better,” Palpatine smiles. And that’s what gets Obi-Wan interested. He knows this is the reason he’s here and the reason Sidious wants him in the Senate. Obi-Wan is a smooth talker, a nice face and a warm smile all in one. Someone who, with enough time and efforts, could make anyone believes in anything.

Palpatine always said that he was made for politics.

“He could be a decisive piece in this game. It will take a lot of careful manipulation and dedication to bring him to our side and I don’t have this kind of time to waste, so you’ll do. With enough care and patience, I think he could be the most loyal and useful… support, we could have.”

“Who is he? What do you want me to say and how far am I allowed to go?”

A knock at the door interrupts them. “For now,” Palpatine says in a low voice, sitting behind his desk, joining his hands together above it, the picture of old and trusted wisdom, “I just need you to make him like you.”

That’s not going to be a problem, Obi-Wan thinks, as the doors open. He straightens up, gets ready to put on his most radiant smile and displays an inviting openness and friendliness that few can resist.

The Padawan enters.

This is going to be a problem.

“Ah! My favourite Jedi!” Sidious exclaims loud enough to be heard over the music and raising his cocktail above their heads. Anakin Skywalker smiles as he sees him, and dutifully comes closer. The Chancellor makes a point of clapping his hand twice on his shoulder once Skywalker is in front of him, and leaves it there as he introduces him to his new chief of staff. If anyone is wondering what a Padawan is doing at a Senate party that should only include political staffers and a few dignitaries, no one breaths a word of it.

It gives Obi-Wan time to gauge, assess and appraise Skywalker, his reactions, body language, and anything he can learn from a simple conversation between Sidious and him. It would be his turn to do it soon. Relieve me from the burden of having to stroke the boy’s ego regularly so I can take care of more pressing issues, his master had snarled disdainfully. Right now, he’s playing the part of the dotting and proud fatherly figure to perfection, Obi-Wan has to give him that.

Attention, approval and respect, Sidious had told me. That’s all you need to be in Skywalker’s good graces. The boy will soak every bit of kindness you can spare, as long as he considers you someone worth his own devotion.

It didn’t stop Obi-Wan from learning absolutely everything he could about him, from his lightsaber technique to his favourite food because Obi-Wan is and will always be a very thorough man who doesn’t rely on luck or unprecise sciences like basic psychology. Especially from his Master, who probably never encountered an emotion or feeling he couldn’t twist to fuel his ambition.

Admittedly, Obi-Wan doesn’t share his Master enthusiasm for charming the brat and make him fall. He’s all for turning him against the Jedi, sure, that he can get behind and happily endorse, but having to deal with a moody teenager on a regular basis for the foreseeable future? It would be painful for everyone. Especially for Obi-Wan’s nerves.

Anakin Skywalker, reckless, volatile and troublesome former slave and actual Padawan, wasn’t the type of Sith candidate Obi-Wan would have chosen. Not at all. Too many variables, too many chances to go wrong, a wild card that he would never risk.

But Sidious is adamant. Doesn’t care for any of his arguments. He wants Skywalker, and Obi-Wan has started to realise why when he learnt all about the prophecy. Stealing the Jedi Chosen One and turning him against them in a last-second betrayal was the kind of symbolic irony Sidious loved and would gloat about for years to come. And when Sidious decides that he needs something, there is no going back.

But this time, Obi-Wan has to do all the hard work himself. He calculates that getting close to Skywalker, especially after their more than tense official introduction, is going to take months, maybe even (and Obi-Wan shudders at the thought) a year. Trapped at playing nice with an overgrown child who hates being told no and likes to think he’s above the rules. For no direct and personal benefit but the approval of his own Master.

Obi-Wan really, really hates it.

But that’s not going to stop him from completing his mission perfectly, as he has always done.

“I’m glad to see you, Chancellor,” Skywalker says softly, his quiet tone already at odd with what Obi-Wan expected. He grew taller than the last he saw him, and Obi-Wan hates it. His braid is a bit longer and his robes are a shade darker than a few months ago. Something passes in his eyes when the Padawan notices Obi-Wan’s presence next to the Chancellor and his head snaps up defiantly. “Senator Kenobi,” he grits out like the words pain him.

Obi-Wan needs to change this right now before Sidious deems him inapt for this mission.

He hates this a bit more.

The opportunity is given quicker than he thought when Sidious excuses himself and leaves their little group to mingle with other demanding sycophants. Obi-Wan gets stuck with Skywalker, Sidious’ chief of state who’s apparently only here for the free drinks, and Keneg, the senator of… Corulag? Barl’leth? One of those rich Core planets that hate anyone who isn’t them but need to be kept around for their credits, who always seems to suck years of his life every time Obi-Wan is forced to speak to him. It takes thirty seconds for all of them to grow bored of Keneg incessant complaints about how the lower levels of his planet are “ruining its reputation” and that the problem resides in their too lenient immigration policy, especially concerning poor and uneducated races.

Skywalker’s face is a journey. At least twelve different emotions play through his eyes, the twists of his mouth and raised eyebrows like a theatre actor in a dramatic scene at each careless word coming out of the Senator’s mouth, and Obi-Wan wonders if anyone has ever told him that Jedi are supposed to be masters of their own emotions first and foremost. Especially around politicians.

But it doesn’t matter right now, because that’s the opening he was waiting for.

“Excuse me Senator Keneg,” He cuts him off politely before another endless tirade. “I’m afraid I have to go, I see the Senator of Botor and I’ve been trying to talk to him for months. Surely you understand. Padawan Skywalker, may I ask for your assistance? We could use some Jedi wisdom in our debate, if you don’t mind.”

Skywalker looks torn between being relieved to be offered an out from an awful conversation, but also have no desire to spend more time with Obi-Wan.

“Sure,” he ends up mumbling, apparently judging that he was the lesser of two evils.

“Wonderful.” Obi-Wan doesn’t pay any attention to the betrayed look Sidious’ chief of state sends him after being left alone with Keneg.

“So,” Skywalker says, resigned, following Obi-Wan who’s making a beeline for the bar. “Where is he?”

“Who?”

“The senator of Botor? And what’s your deal with him?”

“I don’t even know what he looks like,” Obi-Wan replies, trying to ignore the casual tone Skywalker shouldn’t take with a Senator, even one he dislikes.

“What? Then why did you ask me to come with you?”

“Aren’t you relieved that I saved you from dreadful hours of xenophobic discussions about how poor people should be banned from showing their face in public because it doesn’t please Senator Keneg?”

“You didn’t save me,” Skywalker grimaces, but still seats beside him. “Is it… Is it always like that? I mean, I know Core worlds politicians can be a little…”

Obi-Wan weighs his options, and decides that Skywalker would probably appreciate truth more than carefully chosen words and subtle hypocrisy. Pretending to be the last nice man in politics is out of the question with the way they met, so Obi-Wan opts for sincerity.

To a degree.

“Snobbish? Disconnected from reality? Shameless bastards with no souls?” Obi-Wan says while signalling the bartender for Trandoshan ale and a cocktail.

“Well, yes.”

“Welcome to politics.”

Skywalker opens his mouth like he’s going to protest. He puts his hands in his sleeves, probably hoping to pass for a wise Jedi Master, but his pouty lips and frowned eyebrows make him look like a sulking youngling. “You’re part of it, you know. You can talk about it like you’re not one of them, but I remember you insulting me and leaving without caring about your tea and cup all over the floor.”

What a brat.

“My tea- My dear, do I have to remind you that you barreled into me at full stupid and made me spill my tea everywhere? Some Senators would have made a diplomatic incident out of it,” he huffs, a bit more irritable than he wanted to.

“You said I was a brainless child!”

“Because you ar—” Their drinks arrive at that moment, and it gives Obi-Wan precious seconds to compose himself.

This isn’t how he’s supposed to play it. He didn’t expect Skywalker to be this whiny and petulant, despite Sidious’ warning, and was planning on letting him think he was the one in control of the situation. He’s supposed to be a Jedi for Force sake, not someone who can’t control their tongue and get into pointless fights with politicians!

No, no. Grin and bear it. Obi-Wan should recall the last remnant of Jedi philosophy still in him.

“Padawan Skywalker, I’m sorry if my words offended you,” Obi-Wan says with the voice he normally uses for debates where he wants to appear as the most sincere and reasonable party. He holds a glass of ale to Skywalker, as a peace offering. “I admit I wasn’t in the most pleasant of disposition at that time, and I may have been harsher than I realised. I hope you can forgive me.”

This seems to mollify Skywalker a bit. He doesn’t look like he’s going to forget it, but does take the offered glass. “At least the Chancellor is different,” he sighs and Obi-Wan represses the urge to burst into laughter.

Oh, Skywalker is truly the most naïve boy around. Perhaps twisting his mind will turn out to be fun.

“Wait,” Obi-Wan exclaims suddenly as the Padawan holds the glass to his lips, “are you even old enough to drink?”

“Oh come on, I’m 19! I can handle a beer and I’m a Jedi, don’t forget,” he brags, like being Force-sensitive changes anything about his (probably low) alcohol tolerance. To be fair, a regular politician wouldn’t know anything about what the Force could and couldn’t do. Skywalker’s probably relying on lack of awareness about the magic and mysterious abilities of the Jedi to get away with it. It’s almost endearing.

“I don’t know, Padawan, you did look like an adorable sulking youngling just a minute ago.”

“Ador- I’m not adorable!” He yelps as his cheeks turn into an interesting shade of pink.

“But you don’t deny the youngling comment,” Obi-Wan teases good-naturedly between two sips of his cocktail. He can’t help it: It is way more intriguing to follow the colours on his face spreading to his neck than being on the receiving end of his frowns and accusing words.

Unduly flustered for such an innocent comment, Skywalker stutters a few syllables, huffs, and narrows his eyes at his glass, Obi-Wan’s playful smile, and his glass again. He downs the whole thing with his head thrown back before Obi-Wan can say anything, surprised by the sudden motion and too busy watching his throat moving until the empty glass is back on the table with a resounding clank. Still wiping his mouth, he calls the bartender and asks for another. Obi-Wan doesn’t miss the ‘don’t you dare stop me’ glare.

This isn’t how he imagined befriending him, but Skywalker is still seating next to him and getting into a rant about how he’s a capable man, thank you very much, and yesterday his Master even said so, well, not in these words, but he’s not a youngling, and absolutely not adorable, he’s a warrior, a protector, but he doesn’t suppose a politician can understand, and if Obi-Wan wants to know, his sabre technique is exceptional, really, it is!

His whole speech is supported by hands flying around to illustrate his words and mouthfuls of ale, because he is a man and not a kid, remember that, Senator Kenobi. It doesn’t prevent him from flushing a bit deeper and spluttering even more when Obi-Wan, listening attentively with a smile on his face, throws an indulgent of course you are, darling.

Skywalker turns his face away from him, desperate to hide his embarrassment, and orders another ale.

Adorable.

Obi-Wan can work with that.

Hours later, once Skywalker is happily sloshed and dangerously leaning toward crashing against his shoulder, Obi-Wan calls him a hover cab.

“Thanks, Senator Kenobi!” Skywalker exclaims as he climbs into the cab, like Obi-Wan is now his favourite person to be around. His cheerful and warm demeanour has stopped being surprising after his second ale. “You’re not as awful as I thought!”

Obi-Wan can’t help it, he laughs, truly laughs at that. It’s probably the most sincere compliment he’s gotten since he arrived at the Senate. “I’m glad you consider me a slightly better man than Senator Keneg,” he says, leaning forward toward Skywalker, hands on the cab.

Skywaker grins and raises an eyebrow at him. “And more handsome too!”

For once, it’s Obi-Wan who must look baffled. Despite his careful planning, all his diverse estimations and assessments about the different ways he could charm Skywalker, he didn’t consider actually seducing him. That’s… a whole new point of view.

Interrupting his thoughts, Skywalker yawns and starts hugging his robe around himself, smiling contently like he’s in the best place in the galaxy, barely trying to blink away sleep from his eyes. Adorable.

On an impulse, Obi-Wan leans closer to him and tugs on his braid. The reaction is worth it: Skywalker makes a small surprised noise, eyes suddenly wide, and the slight flush on his cheeks worsen in an instant.

Obi-Wan almost considers touching his face, just to see how warm his skin is. And maybe even brushing his parted lips with his thumb, just to see how warm it can still get.

But Obi-Wan feels merciful.

For tonight.

“Sleep well, Padawan,” he purrs, winding the thin braid around his finger one last time. Skywalker looks like he’s going to melt.

Obi-Wan can work with that too.

Two months later, Sidious tells him that he’s going to be the victim of an assassination attempt right before the Military Act vote. It would be acceptable for the Chancellor to be concerned about the protection and security of all Senators, of course, so he will push for Jedi protection and is certain to convince the Council to send one particular Padawan as a bodyguard.

Obi-Wan doesn’t hate the idea.

#these two asks were in my inbox for like... 2 months #I'm very slow but I don't forget!#sith senator kenobi au #anon #asks #obikin

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shittylongcatposts · 3 years

Text

To Hell with love - Sinnerman ch. 2 Priest au!

word count: ~1200 trigger warning: mentions of religion, contains some swear words

“Jesus, men suck”, her friend stated and threw herself on Miriam’s bed. The young woman started to explain what happened, not leaving out a single thing, while she tried to tell her friend all the dirty details that happened since the last time they met. That her now ex-boyfriend betrayed her, and even started to harass her after their breakup, claiming that she was the guilty one in this part, guilty for not even letting him sleep with her whenever he wanted to, in fact Miriam was glad they didn’t get to this point of their relationship at all, because she wasn’t ready for it. The young woman felt relieved that she finally could speak about all of this with somebody. After Becca listened to Miriam’s whole story she sighed and held out a pot filled with ice cream, waiting for her friend to finally grab the spoon and eat it.

However, said friend sat on the edge of her bed crying. She didn’t want to cry, actually she hated to feel like this. Helpless, and hurt by this guy, she fell in love with all this time ago. Miriam still had some feelings for him, even though turned out to be an asshole. But she also knew that after giving it a little bit of time she would feel better. Relieved. Free, and maybe ready to move on. With her friend slowly stroking her back and her curly hair, her sobs died out, and eventually Miriam’s mood started to brighten up. Soon she grabbed the pot of ice cream and started shoveling the ice into her mouth.

“That’s more like it! Finally you’re eating something!” Becca cheered, attempting to hug the other woman from behind, at the same time Miriam tried to swallow a huge spoonful of ice. But she failed horribly. With loud laugh Becca and Miriam fell over, neither of them being able to get up again. Both women started giggling and eventually Miriam stopped coughing.

“You sound like I haven't eaten anything in days” Miriam pouted and rolled her eyes and sat back up. Her voice was still rough from the small incident.

“Hey, I’m just taking care of my friend, here, I could also just go home again.” Becca said jokingly, staring at her with a grimace.

“Hell no you can’t, we haven’t even started the movie yet. Plus I haven’t seen you for ages, you can’t just leave me again and disappear for weeks!”

They both looked at each other with weird grimaces playing on their faces. When the friends looked at each other again, they laughed wholeheartedly. Oh, how much Miriam missed hanging out with her best friend.

That night they decided on having a sleepover, and to watch some bad movies while downing some wine and snacks. After Miriam finished rummaging around in her apartment, on her mission to find said snacks and wine, the best friends soon cuddled up against each other on the couch, ready to start the movie-night.

While opening up the bottle, the movie started, but neither of the girls were paying attention to it, both friends were focused on each other, looking up memes on their phone, laughing about nothing and everything, telling funny stories about their ex boyfriends and their weird habits.

Every now and then the friends clinked their glasses together. Each time toasting to something different.

“may he roast in hell.” “ Here’s to a new life”

The movie got better in the middle so their talking ebbed down. Sometimes it was silent, then every now and then Becca quoted something out of the movie, while Miriam called out some weird facts or things happening on screen that she noticed.

The movie ended with a glorious finale and Becca held up her glass one last time humming a very familiar tune, both women were slightly tipsy and had some difficulties grabbing their glasses.

“ To hell with lies, to hell with love, The pain, the tears, the broken heart, all of the above” They sang together.

When Miriam finally laid down in her bed later that night, Becca already snored softly, she closed her eyes listening to the sound of the darkness. She quickly thanked her friend for being there for her, but merely received a tired moan as an answer.

This was something she felt like she needed for such a long time. Balm for the soul or whatever people may call it, and she hoped this would never end. That their friendship would last forever.

The next day Miriam drove down the street after she dropped Becca at the Bus station. It was a pretty warm day and she hoped that her friend didn’t forget her water bottle. (“stay hydrated, Rebecca!!!” “Yes, Ma’am!!”)

The traffic light sprung to red and she stopped, quickly tying her curly hair up into a bun, hoping that it would help to cool her down at least a little bit. Then she took some time to look around, there was an old lady crossing the street and it took her quite a while. Miriam tried recalling the name of her, she probably knew her from her work, but she couldn’t remember. She knew she visited the elderly people’s home regularly when they planned their bingo nights.

Then there was somebody quickly walking over the grass in front of the church. The person dressed all in black stopped in front of the sign, rearranging the letters on it. “Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.”

That’s some motivational quote. Miriam smiled and thought of the old father, he would never do something like this. Even years after getting that sign it always ended up saying the same. “Come join us on sunday” That’s it.

The young guy stepped back, proudly looking at his work, he closed the bible and turned around. Now that the young woman got a closer look at him she recognized him as the new priest, the one who stepped in for Father Smith. With this proud smile on his face and his slightly disheveled raven black hair he looked quite nice. Maybe he’d bring some joy into the community for the other people. Miriam didn’t really notice she was still staring at him until he stopped to wave her a small hello, an angelic smile playing around his lips. She smiled back waving too when she saw the traffic lights going from red to green. Stepping on the gas she left the church behind, a flush of red hushing over her cheeks. God, that was unnecessary, she thought to herself, when she finally arrived at her home again. Her thoughts were still filled with that priest, it must be pretty weird to come to a community where everybody just joked about the church, despite the real strict catholics of course, but this small “circle” consisted only of five people, the rest showed up either on easter or christmas to say that they at least visited the church once a year. Miriam thought about paying it a visit again, maybe it wouldn’t be too bad. And with Sunday being tomorrow she actually considered setting her foot into the church again. After all these godless years.

hey guys, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, i finally had the courage to post it, yay. Stay tuned there's more to come. oh and the song mentioned here is called "To hell with love" a song from a german punk band called the Donots

#mysme #mystic messenger #jumin han #shitty longcat #jumin #finally chapter 2 is here #only took me eleven years lol

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venomous--fics · 4 years

Text

Kasady

Summary: You're Cletus Kasady's younger sister, but you've never told anyone. Now his name is everywhere in the news and everyone wants your side of the story.

Warnings: Mentions of past abuse, panic attacks, swearing

Mood music: Lover is a Day- Cuco

A/n: Aaaaye, sorry if this is a dumb idea. I just haven't seen anyone write this type of story? If someone has, anyone wanna link me a fic? Feedback is appreciated and requests are open! My queue is filled with the last batch I got, so expect those soon!

You almost dreaded leaving the apartment anymore. All you saw was his big, stupid, ugly face everywhere. Oh, he did that, oh, he did this, let's remind everyone that he's a monster in prison! Oh, but there's a plot twist; You hated it because you were, unfortunately, related to the guy. Nobody outside your adoptive parents knew.

You didn't like talking about, you didn't even like thinking about it. You had to put up with so much shit because of that guy. You were grateful that you were young enough that nobody knows or remembers what you look like now. You even changed your last name a few times. First, you changed it to Smith when your parents adopted you, then you changed it to Brock when you got married to Eddie.

It shouldn't bother you, you're a Brock, not a Kasady. However, you couldn't help but feel like that was just your identity. Once a Kasady, always a Kasady. You felt even worse because Eddie had taken up on the Kasady story as a huge part of his new job.

You were proud of him for finally getting back to what he loved, but sooner or later his trail would come back to you. What were you supposed to tell him? It felt like the walls were closing in on you, and that there was an anchor slowing crushing you. You had to remind yourself to just take it all in one breath at a time. This is just some fad, some story. It'll all go away.

What if it doesn't?

Your head was spinning and you closed your eyes as you sat on your bed. Everything was so quiet, and even that was alarming.

"Babe? We're home!" Eddie voice rang through the apartment.

You sucked in a breath and hopped up and out of the room, "How was work?"

You just wanted to forget about it.

"Eh, you know." he smiled as he hung his jacket up, "Same shit."

Venom appeared, looking a bit annoyed, "Easy for you to say."

"What's got you in a sour mood, big guy?" you asked, walking over and giving Venom a small kiss before turning to Eddie and giving him a kiss as well.

Venom hesitated for a moment, mostly out of embarrassment, "Well, nothing now, but some guy called us a dick."

"That wasn't very nice of them." you replied, "How about I make some dinner? I was thinking chicken nuggets or- Uh, chicken nuggets."

Eddie looked at Venom, "That's a tough choice. I guess chicken nuggets it is." You preheated the oven, "Why don't you two go get into something a little comfier?"

"Already ahead of you," Eddie said as he walked to the bedroom.

There was barely any noise for a couple minutes before Eddie said, "So, you know that story I'm working on?"

"Of course," you said, feeling the anxiety building back up.

"Well, I," he paused, you assumed he was putting a shirt on, "I've reached a dead end with it."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I was talking to Cletus- Red- Whatever the hell they're gonna call him.. And he was asking me if he knew anything about his sister." Eddie stumbled out of the room as he pulled up his sweatpants, "I mean, everyone was talking about that, but I figured it was a bunch of bs."

"Oh." you repeated.

"so, I spent a majority of my day trying to find any information on this poor woman- And it's almost like he just fell off the grid."

"Well," you awkwardly chuckled as you got the bag of frozen nuggets out of the freezer, "I guess when a serial killer is your family, you'd want to disappear too, right?"

"I suppose," Eddie said.

Venom, meaning no harm, but just wanting to be part of the conversation, "Maybe he killed her, Eddie. People said that too. Maybe that's why we can't find her."

Out of habit, you put your hand over a scar you had on your arm as a lump form in your throat. It wasn't a nasty scar by any means, it was barely noticeably at this point. It was just a constant reminder.

You had lied to Eddie and told you that a biker had clipped you one day when you were coming home from work, but that was far from the truth. You wish it had been an innocent accident like that. The reality of it was that, before you and Cletus were removed from your home, he had attempted to, as he put it, saw your arm off.

Lucky for you, and being the world's biggest crybaby, again, as he would've put it, your mother had heard you screaming. Of course, she always wanted to think that Cletus would just grow out of all of this horrid stuff. You always thought if she had changed her mind, maybe she'd still be alive.

Sometimes you wished Cletus had actually killed you too, it would've been less painful than everything else you had to go through. Growing up, with Cletus always on the news for the shit he'd done, and every thing inbetween, you were slightly grateful that people would make up the rumours that you were dead. Maybe then they'd leave you alone.

You put yourself on autopilot, taking a trip down trauma lane as you put everything into the oven and set a timer.

Cletus wasn't always outwardly violent, but that doesn't mean he was kind. He would always pick on you, or tell you that nobody even wanted you. He'd always take your things and ruin them, whether it be lighting them on fire or just cutting them up.

You were so young, and you tried to believe that maybe older siblings were just like that. Maybe it was normal for them to try to leave you to die in the woods, or maybe it was normal when he'd 'jokingly' push you towards oncoming traffic. You had a lot to unlearn when you got adopted. You never wanted to be around other kids, and you barely spoke, even when you had gone to therapy. Sometimes you'd get angry at nothing and beat up pillows, and no matter what, your adoptive parents also responded with love and understanding.

You never had to deal with siblings again. Your adoptive parents are the only souls, outside the social workers, who ever knew what had gone on with your birth family. you were thankful for that.

The cycle still repeats it self, however. Some days you feel fine, you don't find yourself thinking about it, but then one little thing comes barging in and ruins it all.

You had completely lost yourself in a memory, and not a good one. You could hear your heart beating in your ear, and you must've been staring off into space.

The basement was dimly lit, and you remember your dad said he would replace the bulb, but he always forgot. You were stuck to a chair, and you couldn't stop whimpering.

"You're such a crybaby."

Cletus came into view with a roll of duct tape. He fiddled with it, trying to get it undone. You shut your eyes and tried to keep quiet. Maybe if you were quiet, he'd let you go.

He finally got a piece cut and he was going to put it over your mouth, but you kept shaking your head, calling out for you mom. You were even kicking at Cletus, which just seemed to annoy him more.

"Stop it! Stop! Go away! Go away, Cletus!"

There was something inside Cletus that just made him hate everyone around him. He had no regard for any other form of life. He didn't even feel bad about what he had planned to do to you. In fact, he had blamed you for it, he kept telling you that if you weren't so annoying, or if you were never even born, he wouldn't have to do this.

Finally getting fed up with your struggling, he grabbed your face and put the duct tape over your mouth. This made your crying worse. You could heard footsteps from the floor above you, and you were praying that whoever was up there heard you and was coming to your rescue.

Cletus proceeded to duct tape your arm down to the arm of the chair, making extra sure that it hurt. You were no more than five years old, and you were already telling yourself that this was how you were going to die.

"You know that old bat can't hear you, stupid." Cletus spat as he turned away to get something.

That's when you remembered where you were. You were at your grandma's house for the weekend. You two would get left here every so often, normally when your parents had errands to run. This time, mom and dad weren't coming back. You were stuck here.

You were thinking about all the small details of her house now, to distract yourself from what was about to happen.

Mary Poppins. Your grandmother had an odd obsession with her. She had all this little figurines that she decorated her house with. You were never sure why she liked Mary Poppins so much, but you found it endearing.

She would always hum the songs when she was baking.

A spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down.

You could practically hear her humming along.

Thats when Cletus turned back around and you saw the shimmer of the knife he had. You tried to just think of anything else, but nothing was working now. Everything was so quiet and the only noise was the sligh thum of the old light bulb.

"If you were never born, this wouldn't be happening," he sneered at you as he pushed the knife down onto your arm, "This is your fault."

He kept talking, and you wanted to keep crying, but you found everything so stressful that you were feeling tired. You didn't even have the strength to pay any mind to the burning pain in your arm. It was almost like you'd given up.

Then you heard her voice. It was calling out for both you and Cletus. It was getting louder, Cletus huffed and dropped the knife on the floor.

"One noise out of you and I'll make you suffer." he cackled a little bit, "Doesn't really matter, I was going to make you suffer anyways."

You watched hazily as Cletus made his way up the stairs. You tried to wiggle out of the duct tape restraints, but it caused too much pain, so you gave up. The voices were getting more and more muffled. Cletus was leading her away from the basement.

You wanted to go home. You wanted to be anywhere but here. You felt more tears welling up in your poor little eyes, and you closed them tightly. Just make it go away. It'll go away.

You remember hearing a lot of noise from upstairs. It sounded like things getting broken, and then several big thuds. You closed your eyes tighter. It grew quiet again.

You heard the basement creak open, and you heard the soft whimpers of the family pet, Fifi. You loved Fifi. She was a good dog. Cletus came down the stairs, holding the dog by the collar, and you watched as Fifi wriggled and yipped as she tried to get free.

You were tried to scream at him, but the duct tape muffled any noise that came out of your mouth. Cletus retrieved the knife and dragged the dog back a few steps. You wanted to look away. You didn't want to watch. You were frozen in terror as Cletus held the dog down and lifted the knife.

He was grinning so sadistically.

You felt something warm wrap around you and you jumped ten feet in the air, pushing them away and yelling, "Don't touch me! Just stay back!"

Eddie flinched and held his hands up as he took a step back, "Sorry! Sorry! Didn't mean to scare you."

You tried to catch your breath as you stared at him. You looked like you'd just seen a ghost. Eddie looked a little startled as he lowered his hands and slowly walked over to you, "Are you okay?"

You took another step back as you tried to calm your nerves, "Yeah, I- No- Yes, I'm.. I'm fine. Sorry for- I."

"Why don't we go sit down for a second.. You look like you're about to pass out." What do you do? What do you say?

"Did I cause this?" Eddie sounded a little hurt, thinking that he'd unintentionally caused you any harm, "Baby, I'm so sorry."

"It wasn't you. I just.." you needed to just think of some excuse, "The whole Kas- Cletus thing is just.. Stressful."

Eddie gently put a hand on your lower back and you flinched again, causing him to move it.

"I just mean," you sighed a little, "I see it everywhere. It's- I- Nevermind."

You were fighting with yourself. You were going to say it.

"It's alright. We don't have to talk about it anymore." He sounded so sincere, "And it'll all go away after-"

"That's just it," you wrapped your arms around yourself as you tried so hard to fight those stupid crybaby tears back, "It won't go away."

Despite your best efforts, the tears came running down your face, and Eddie went to wipe your face, but you flinched away and ran into your bedroom. You slammed the door a little too hard behind you, repeating, "It just won't go away." "Y/n," Eddie said, slightly confused as he walked over to the door. He couldn't open the door because you were sitting in front of it, and he could hear you crying. "Baby?"

He crouched down and sat down on the floor. He didn't understand what was going on, and Venom sure as hell didn't know either. They wanted to ask what was wrong, but maybe you'd tell them on your own.

"Sorry," you said between sniffles.

"It's okay." Eddie replied, leaning against the door, "What's going on?" You took in a few deep breaths before wiping your face, "It's a long story." Eddie, being a smartass, leaned forward a little to get a peek at the oven timer, "We have time."

You chuckled a little because you heard the door creak with his movement. Eddie chuckled too as he leaned back into his original position. Venom poked out of Eddie's arm and looked at the door for a moment before looking at Eddie, who just nodded a little. The little symbiote wrapped around Eddie's arm and got comfortable as you started talking.

"There-" you shivered a little, "Eddie, there's a good reason why nobody can find Cletus' sister."

Eddie looked at the door, intrigued. Did you know her somehow? Maybe through work? Were you helping her hide somewhere?

"And why's that?"

"Because, I-" you wiped your eyes again, trying to not burst into tears, "I'm Y/n Kasady."

Eddie tensed a little as he continued to stare at the door. "You're Y/n Kasady?"

You hesitated, "Unfortunately, but I mean, legally, I'm not really a Kasady anymore...Obviously."

Eddie looked down to the floor, taking it all in. Everything made sense now. "How come you never mentioned it?"

"You think I wanna talk about it?" you didn't mean to come off as bitter, "I just- I hated it. I hated everything to do with that name..Nothing good comes from being a Kasady."

"Nothing good comes from bein' a Brock either."

"Eddie." you whined.

"Sorry, sorry. I'll try to save the jokes for later."

"I just never wanted to talk about it." you continued, "Besides, what the hell would I even tell people? You think reporters want to hear a five year old talk about the most horrendous shit?"

"You were five?" Eddie's voice sounded so hoarse. He didn't knowing anything about the elusive Kasady sibling. The fact that it was you,and you were only five made everything worse.

You couldn't seem to stop yourself, "Cletus was a monster. He killed our grandma- He- He.. Oh god, he tortured the dog while I was duct taped to a chair. Not to mention that he tried to cut my arm off right before all of that- Yeah, that scar? It wasn't from some stupid biker."

"Jesus," Eddie sounded mortified, "I'm..Sorry."

"To make matters worse, I almost got lost in the system because he burned down the orphanage we were both at." you paused, remembering that day, "With everyone but us inside of it."

Venom wasn't going to say it, but he felt a little mortified. He had never met a human who was capable of those awful things.

"They had to separate us, because they thought it would stop him from acting out. That didn't work. Cletus just-" your rant broke off into another fit of helpless sobs, "He ruins everything he touches. I know It's been decades since all of that. I haven't seen him since I was five, but I still live in constant fear-" "He can't hurt you-"

"What if he breaks out of prison again? What then?" you sounded very panicked, "I have always been on edge. Cletus is a smart man, Eddie- It wouldn't take much to figure out where I am- Or my parents.. Or-"

"Hey, hey," Eddie said softly, "That's not gonna happen. You wanna know why?" "Why?' you croaked, slouching against the door.

"Because we won't let it."

You did feel safer since Eddie and venom came into your life. You also knew that they'd rather die then to let anyone hurt you. Cletus was nothing but madman, and it wouldn't take Venom very long to put an end to him. "We love you." Venom said.

You slowly turned to sit on your knees as you opened the door. You looked at Eddie and venom with a weak smile, and Eddie held out his arms, "Come here." You crawled into his arms, and Eddie held you close to him, "I'm sorry you went through that, but I promise you that nothing will ever hurt you again."

Venom untangled himself from Eddie's arm and wrapped around yours, "We will eat whatever tried to hurt you."

You curled up closer to him, feeling a lot better, "I know you will...Sorry for being a crybaby."

"Don't need to apologize." Eddie said sweetly, "If it makes you feel better, I can make something up for the story. Just to get it over with."

"You'd lose your job if they found out that you lied."

Eddie shrugged, "Plenty of other jobs in the world, love."

"It's okay," you said, "I think, maybe, I..If it's you, I can talk about it. I'm just afraid of how people will see me after. They'll probably think that I'm just like him."

Eddie rubbed your back softly, "Nobody will think that."

"Who cares what a bunch of losers think anyways?" Venom looked up at you with all the love he could muster, "We think you are wonderful."

"You guys are pretty wonderful too." you replied, smiling at them.

You gave Venom a kiss before you cupped Eddie's face and gave him one as well. Everything felt okay again, and this time you knew they'd remain that way. A startling beep rang through the apartment and you all jumped a little. You then began chuckling as Eddie helped you up. It was just the oven.

"You okay?" Eddie asked as he watched you get the food out of the oven. He saw you differently now. Not in a bad way, but in a good way. He know understood everything he needed to know, and he knew that you were doing everything in you power to get better. He was proud of you.

"Yeah, actually." you said, "I guess talking about it really does help.. I was just afraid that maybe," you laughed a little, "Maybe you'd want a divorce, because who wants an infamous serial killer as an in-law?"

Eddie, seeing the opportunity to lighten the mood with a joke, said, "A what as a what now? I thought you were an only child."

You looked at him with the softest expression, "Thanks."

He smiled as he came over and wrapped his arms around your waist, "Don't worry about it."

You wanted to stay like this forever. Unfortunately, the moment was ruined when Eddie went to grab a nugget right off the tray and yelped as it burned him. "They just got done." you said, trying not to laugh, "You watched me pull them out."

He went over to the sink and ran his hand under some cold water, "Yeah, but..Why are they still so hot?"

"Eddie," you laughed, "They just came out of a piping hot oven."

You got a couple of plates out of the cupboard as Eddie dried his hands. You were putting them on the kitchen island as you saw him go for another nugget out of the corner of your eye. Sometimes its good that not everything changes.

#eddie brock imagine #eddie brock x reader #venom imagine #venom x reader #marvel imagine #marvel x reader

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hotdamnhunnam · 3 years

Text

I Cum in Peace

A/N: Here’s the second of 12 filthy imagines to be written for my 500 Followers Kinkfest Celebration!! Based on the below request for cum play with Mr. Ray Smith 🤤 (Note: I feel like the kink level of this is actually similar to my usual fics, so I’ve tagged my general tag list! Hope you’ll enjoy it!)

Pairing: Raymond Smith x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, dirty talk, dom!Ray, cum play (filling up reader’s cunt then all over her face) Request: Kinkfest request from anon

Word Count: ~2.7k

So you just saw your man getting mad with a whole crew of troublesome lads. You’re not usually with Ray when he goes about gangster business; he never wants you to have any involvement in it. But today’s little incident... you were quite glad, to have been watching him from the car while he did this. His dominance over those impudent cunts was a wonder to witness. In less than a minute, Ray made them his bitches. Your man went ahead and did that.

“I come in peace,” he’d said, at first. But the idiots wouldn’t abide by his orders. That left Ray with no choice: so he raised his voice, suddenly reaching for one of his biggest toys. Fired his gun in the air till they scurried away like scared, lost little boys.

As he calmly slides into the driver’s seat, leaving the scene at a gentleman’s speed, you look over at him and can feel your cunt throbbing with heat. Get the urge to just bury your head in his lap and start sucking his cock. But he’s not one for road head—Y/N, I will not have that lovely mouth held to account for a damn traffic accident—so you decide against pushing your luck.

Still, you cannot help but gush about how fucking hot that was. “Ray, that was just... oh my Goddd, honestly hot as fuck.”

Raymond pushes his specs up the bridge of his nose, keeps his eyes on the road. “Was just doing my job, love. Just doing my job.”

“But I mean, did you see just how savagely you fucked them up?” you go on, not even close to being done. “Without even touching them once? You just whip out your gun, and they all fucking run. What a sad bunch of cunts.”

“Cunts indeed,” he agrees, car still cruising along at this slow-as-fuck speed, while you squirm in your seat. Pussy aching with need.

“And that whole ta ta ta thing...” you sigh, recalling how your man had dismissed the last lad, with a click of his teeth and a flick of his hand. So damn hot you could die. “Ray, you’re a motherfucking king.”

He’s driving so slowly it feels like you’re crawling. “You quite finished singing my praises now, darling?”

You laugh as he once again pushes his glasses up. “What, so you want me to stop? I’m just proud of how masterfully you do your job.”

“Get a hold of yourself, love.”

“No, I think you should get a hold of me, Mr. I Come in Peace,” you tease, scooting toward him as your juices slick up the seat. “Ray, please—as soon as we get home... fucking need you to cum... inside me and all over me.”

Thankfully, for the sake of your dripping wet pussy... those words finally get Ray to pick up the speed. Steady as he may be, the king also has hungers to feed. You notice as his knuckles whiten, his grip on the steering wheel tightens. He’s biting his lip, burning with the desires he’s fighting. Lust threatens to rustle his calm, bringing sweat to his palms, and he despises being compromised like this when he’s in the driver’s seat.

Now that Raymond is fully aroused, careening at full speed toward his house, your flirtations get braver and bolder. “What’s the matter—distracted now, soldier? You know we can always pull over...” you murmur, caressing his jacket-clad shoulder.

“You keep your mouth shut, you insufferable slut,” Raymond mutters. “Stay quiet the whole fucking ride home. Touch me again while I’m driving, and I’ll spend the rest of the night denying you the right to get fucked and get soaked in my cum.”

Oh, good lord. You’re not even home yet, and already your man is taking on his role as your dom. This is what you live for. You’re so wet...

“Now is that what you want? Are you desperate for that kind of punishment?” Raymond demands, impatient, as you’ve not yet removed your hand. “Show me you understand. Or are you still determined to be a dirty disobedient cunt?”

You immediately move your palm off of him, biting your bottom lip as you settle back into position in your seat and bow your head low in submission. “Understood, sir.”

“There, that’s a good girl.”

Ugh, those words—the way Raymond seamlessly transitions from pure degradation, so savage it hurts, straight to sweet praises coated in sugar... it’s a damn revelation. You’ll never get over your love for this smooth-as-butter motherfucker. You’re so lucky to be his lady, his lover. His good little cocksucker.

The big dick energy radiating from Ray is delicious and vicious and violent, and all the while you sit in silence, the rest of the drive. You eagerly jump from the passenger’s seat the instant you arrive.

“Did I tell you to move, cunt?”

Oh fuck. You stop dead in your tracks at once. Shudder and choke, stutter out a response. “N-no, sir...”

He steps out of the car to come toward you where you’re standing, tall and commanding, controlling you more and more thoroughly as he comes closer. “Well, fortunately for your desperate, slutty little ass... I’m feeling generous enough to let that pass. But the next time you dare make a move without my permission...” Raymond threatens in a ruthless rasp, “... love, I promise it will be the last. And I’ll make certain you remember your position.”

By this point your entire body is quivering so badly that you’re probably in critical condition.

Ray runs his forefinger across your lower lip and snickers as he feels it fucking twitching. You’re so thirsty you can’t even think. “Now run along inside and pour your man a drink, you pretty little thing. By the time I come in, want to see my woman waiting for me naked in the kitchen.”

Ugh, you can’t even?!? Why is every word off of Raymond’s lips literal heaven? In a sex-frazzled flurry, you scurry to follow your master’s directions, though it’s fucking hard when you’re reeling from feeling the full effects of his perfection.

Stripping off all your clothes as you step in and rush to the kitchen, you reach for your man’s favorite bottle of scotch. End up frantically flinging your clothing all over the place, which you know Raymond hates. He hates messiness so fucking much. But you cannot be bothered to worry; you’re in such a hurry. Spurred on by his words, and obeying with haste. Not a moment to waste.

By the time Raymond enters, the drink must be poured, sitting pretty on the kitchen counter, and of course you had better be naked and waiting for him like a good little whore.

You’ve managed to pull that off without so much as a second to spare, when he promptly appears at the door. Owning you with his bright blue bespectacled stare. Clearly proud of how you’ve been so dutiful. God, he looks so fucking beautiful, standing there. You’ve never wanted him more.

At some point in the past twenty seconds, apparently Raymond had changed into your favorite cardigan. When did that happen? He wore this the last time you fucked in the kitchen, and now here he is going at it again. This sumptuous sweater just makes him look so fucking lovely, so cuddly and comfy. He knows you’re obsessed with this color on him, the color of some kind of sweet, spicy, super gourmet honey mustard. Goddamn sexy bastard.

Raymond struts in and helps himself to the fine scotch you had poured. Holds it up to his lips, drains the halfway-full glass in a single long sip. Evidently he’s thirsty, you think. At least his thirst was quenched nice and quick, with one swig of a drink. Unlike yours. As you watch your man swallow his scotch, the heat builds in your crotch, and you’re ready to burst. He gets off on seeing you so desperate and wet, because he is the worst.

“Mmm, now I really needed that,” Ray states as he deliberately sets down his empty glass. “To calm my fucking nerves. To fight the burning urge I had... to spank your naughty ass... turning it red, just the way you deserve, for behaving so bad.”

Oh shit. You don’t want him to fight it—the thought has you so damn excited. Of course, Raymond knows it. He studies the blow of your pupils, your silence so truthful, the hitch of your breath as you hold it.

You can’t bear to breathe in this moment, when his stare is cutting you open.

“I do hope you’ll excuse me for being so rude,” Raymond playfully purrs. “Satisfying my thirst, while denying yours. That scotch was really quite good. You just put me in such a damn mood. Now does my lovely lady want something to drink, too?”

Ugh, he knows it’s true. Your gaze follows his hands, as he reaches to slowly unbutton his pants, where the bulge of his cock is in full fucking view.

“Mmm, of course you do,” Raymond sadistically coos. “Well, that’s too fucking bad for you.”

“Ray...” you can’t help but say, as you instinctively start sinking down to your knees.

But he’s not here to play, or to tease; he is here to use you however he may please. And right now that means bending you over the counter and fucking you numb, and then filling your cunt with his cum, while you beg for the privilege to suck him. To swallow his load, down your thirsty whore throat. Today that’s how Ray wants to perform his role as your malevolent, merciless dom.

So he hoists you back up to your feet, refusing you the right to kneel down before him and devour his cock just the way that you need. Denying you the privilege of tasting his seed.

He bends your body forcefully over the kitchen counter, destroying you with his raw power. You scream his name louder, before quickly shifting to use the correct word—address him as Sir.

“Scream all you want,” he taunts. “Won’t change your punishment. Won’t keep me from driving my cock fucking deep in this dripping wet cunt.”

Good lord. How exactly that counts as a ‘punishment’... you’re not quite sure. It sounds like a blessing, much more than a curse. If your man wants to teach you a lesson, then someone should tell him that’s not how it works...

Reading your mind as ever, Ray now lifts your torso up to press against his sweater, with a feral sneer as he brings his hot mouth toward your ear. You feel his lips curve as he wickedly smirks.

“You know how every time we fuck... I always let you suck my cock, before or afterwards? Or both, as you prefer? Because you’re such a shameless cum-guzzling whore? We both know swallowing my cum is the sole purpose of this dirty little mouth of yours.”

You’re fucking drooling from the sheer force of his words. And then he rubs his massive cock against your pussy lips and starts bucking his hips, plunging inside your soaking wet heat as it throbs and drips, and God it feels so good it fucking hurts...

“You know I almost crashed my fucking car? All thanks to what a filthy fucking slut you are? Well, let me tell you how I’m gonna make you pay, for your fucking disgusting behavior today.”

There’s no way you could have prepared for what Ray is about to say.

“Tonight I am going to fuck you for all that you’re worth... fill you up with my cum till you feel set to burst... then deny you dessert.”

Oh my God. You moan out at the thought, hating him for being such a coldhearted bastard...

“That’s the punishment you deserve,” Ray growls as he begins fucking you harder and faster. Reminding you that he’s your master. That your place is to serve. “Why don’t you go on and tell me just how much you want to taste my cum, you dirty little cunt. I know that’s what you’ll always want. If you beg hard enough, then perhaps by tomorrow you’ll have some. Whereas if you’re a naughty slut and keep pissing me off... then it won’t be till days or weeks after.”

“Please—please, sir...!” you pathetically answer. Your senses are overpowered from the sound of his cruel mocking laughter, the feeling of being so full of his cock and smothered by that damn mustard sweater. There is nothing worse. Nothing better. “Please let me drink your cum, sir—I just want... I fucking need it more than anything, ever...”

You keep on spouting filth as loudly as you can, hoping to satisfy your man’s demands. He pins you down onto the counter with brutal hands, pounding into your soaking wet pussy again and again, getting so fucking heated that he has to strip off that beautiful cardigan. Rips off his tie and shirt, as he rails you harder and harder till you reach a whole other dimension of heaven-sent hurt.

Then the instant his thick creamy cum fucking spurts... you feel your cunt explosively squirt, and you’re pretty sure that you just permanently lost all hope of ever being able to form words.

You have never felt so swollen, so completely and utterly split open, as you feel in this moment. From the vigorous violence of that vicious fuck. When Raymond pulls out of your cunt after so savagely wrecking you with his cock, you can only imagine how ravaged and ruined it looks. Painted white with his cum as it drips, slick and shiny all over your soaking wet pussy lips.

“Good fucking lord,” Raymond groans at the sight of it. Staring between your spread legs. He adores seeing you like this, with his cum leaking out of your slick pussy after hot sex—always did love it, but never more so than in this very minute. “Such a good little whore. Ugh, just... shit. Love, you’ve never looked so wrecked. Just give me a second to memorize this. God, it’s perfect.”

It’s not as if you can resist or protest. Even if you had wanted to, you were just hammered so senseless, there’s honestly nothing you can even do.

Apparently Ray is already experiencing the... effects of this view. “Fuck, Y/N. Seeing you like this got my cock hard as a rock again.”

Um... how long has it been since he flooded your cunt with his cum? Twenty seconds? Well under a minute, you reckon. It shouldn’t be possible that he’s already erect—but Ray is a fucking stallion, a beacon among men, a living breathing god of sex, and he cums by the gallon.

“Get on your knees,” he says, as you obey with desperate haste. Yes, sir. Yes, please... “And keep that filthy mouth shut, you pathetic fucking slut, so that I can cum on your pretty whore face.”

You cannot even process just how hot that sounds, as you excitedly kneel down. Gazing up at his gorgeousness like a goddamn donut waiting to be glazed.

Though you don’t want to miss a thing, as you receive this divine blessing from your king... you end up closing your eyes just in time, before his white hot load sprays all over the place. And the sensation is seriously sublime.

You have never taken him this way, since Ray loves to explode down your throat. To feed you full of his luscious load, let you savor his flavor, the seed you so desperately need. But you had to be punished today—this is how. He commands you to sit and remain fully soaked in his cum as you are now, without taking so much as one precious drop in your mouth. Denying you the cum that you can’t live without.

You feel like such a whore, degraded and destroyed to the core... and the truth is you only want more.

The best part of it is—now that you and Ray know just how much you enjoy being punished like this, that the feeling of his cum all over your face is complete fucking bliss—there is sure to be much more in store.

There’s a whole world of kinks you have yet to explore, and you’ve only just opened the door.

***************

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revisionaryhistory · 3 years

Text

Three Days ~ 87

Emma

Slow dancing and kissing in the middle of the floor had been as perfect of goodbye as a goodbye could be. Sebastian had updated his playlists. There was nothing sexual. Every song was I love you, I've been waiting for you, I'm happy you're mine. Intense love songs. I felt every one. I stayed in the moment, focusing on how good this felt. We held each other, swaying to the music and alternating between my head laying on his shoulder, gazing in the other's eyes, or kissing. We were in our own little bubble. There was nothing but how his body felt against mine, how he smelled, and the look of his face. All I felt was encapsulated in a swirl of feelings. Love, joy, and a touch of sadness hiding on the edge.

The bubble burst with the knock on the door. Time to go. there was no chance of getting through this without tears. Strong emotions always bring tears. I don't fight them. Letting them out feels better. I don't think emotions are anything to be ashamed of or hide. They're also not something to manipulate others with.

At the car, we were both crying. Not holding onto each other sobbing, just tears.

Saying goodbye was hard. His "I love you. I'll miss you. I'll talk to you Later. Send nudes." broke the sadness enough to get the car door closed. I watched him slide away. I wiped away a few more tears before talking myself down. Six weeks was a long fucking time, but it wasn't forever. It would probably feel like it, however.

My solution was to avail myself of the Air France business class lounge. Two shots of tequila and I switched to wine. It went better with the cheese. I was going to have to hit the gym hard when I got home. And eat better. Not today though I was sad and there was free cheese.

As usual, I was asleep before we reached cruising altitude. I woke up with about five hours to go. Fingers crossed that helped with the jet lag. I put on my favorites playlist and read until we landed.

Emma ~ I’ve landed Sebastian ~ Yay! Emma ~ Go back to sleep. Sebastian ~ XOXO

I knew he had an early call time tomorrow. It was only five pm here in New York. Closer to seven by the time I got back to Sebastian's place. I made it long enough to throw a load of laundry into the washer and the cheese into the fridge before crawling into bed. I took over his side of the bed, sniffing the pillows to find the one that smelled most like him. I curled around it and was out.

Five am was the latest my body was going to let me sleep. That was eleven am in France. So too early for New York and kinda late for France. I grabbed my phone to take a sleepy selfie but was distracted by my text notification. Sebastian had sent me a picture of him reclining on a couch, not in our rooms, with Guiletta asleep on his chest.

Sebastian ~ Found someone new to sleep on my chest.

I continued with my original plan to take an up-close picture of my eyes peeking out over the top of his pillow. My hair was a mess, my eyes look half-asleep, and there was a faint pillow crease on my temple. Perfect.

Emma ~ I miss you too

The sun was up with a bright blue sky. Since it was Saturday the traffic at this time of day would be much less. I had a clean pair of shorts, but not a shirt. No problem. My boyfriend had t-shirts. A little big, but perfectly functional. Runners, earphones, keys and I was out the door for an early morning run.

The city was beautiful. sunlight crept around corners and over the tops of shorter buildings. I ran south past the 9-11 memorial to Battery Park. I'd always been fascinated by the metal world with tears and chunks missing. The first time I'd seen I'd said out loud, "It looks like the world blew up." I guess I wasn't far off. The sculpture had been in the World Trade Center Plaza and been damaged by falling debris. I was only eight and all I remember was my parents being glued to CNN for hours. It would be years later, when I called the city home, before I really understood. As much as a non-native New Yorker could.

The worst thing about running this early was all the stores were closed. The best thing about running this early was all the stores were closed. I admit my shopping had been out of hand. In my defense, it had been a very long time since I'd had someone to dress up for. Don't take that wrong. Beacon dates with a man or friends was an opportunity to dress up. Coming into New York to be with Angie and Eli was a good opportunity. Both opportunities I used well. Still, having a man appreciate what you wear and how you look in it is another level. I know what I look good in. I'm not changing my choices for Sebastian, or any man, but I will take his preferences into account. Shopping right now would be a bad idea. I’m sure I'm packing around a few extra pounds of cheese, bread, and wine. I'm hoping all the walking mitigated some of the damage.

On my way back, a couple of blocks from Sebastian's the city was waking up. More people and sounds. I realized tonight would be the first time I'd been alone in the city in about five years. I made plans to sit in the dark and just listen. I picked up a bagel and a smoothie that I was told would rejuvenate me. I wonder if the barista could tell? I broke into Sebastian's stash of nut butter. Half a bagel with cashew butter the other with almond. Cashew was better.

Being alone in his space is weird. None of my stuff is here. It's like a hotel, but not. I got a little nosey after I'd showered and dressed. Not in a going through his drawers and medicine cabinet nosey. Looking at his DVD and CD collection. Running my fingers down the spines of his books, pulling out ones that caught my interest to thumb through. I made a stack of things I wanted to read. I did go through his kitchen pretty thoroughly. It looks like a single man who travels and eats out a lot lives here. He doesn't have flour. How does one not have flour? He does have quite a condiment collection. I threw out expired things and made a list to replace them. That led me on a short journey to see if there was anything else he was almost out of and added things to the list.

Time to call the best friends. Angie picked up on the third ring, her voice excited to hear from me, "You're home!"

"I’m at Sebastian's. I meet with my advisor Monday."

"I want to see all the pictures and hear all the stories. We're going out tonight. Some friends are playing. You're welcome."

"Can I let you know later? I don't know what the time change is going to do."

"Absolutely. So.... " the paused after dragging out the word, "are you missing him? How was goodbye?"

"Goodbye took forever. Neither of us wanted to let go. At least half a dozen last kisses. Sucked. I miss him, but I'm okay. I'll be fine when I get home and am doing stuff. I've cleaned expired shit out of his kitchen and made a grocery list."

"That's cute. Hope he thinks so."

I hadn't thought about his opinion one way or another. I was just getting rid of shit before it stank up the place. "He won't care."

We talked for a while, deciding we'd do brunch tomorrow.

I was bored. I didn't lack for things to do, but I didn't have a routine here. Especially not without him. It didn't feel like home without him. Once I'd figured that out I was good and went about making myself at home.

I'd changed Sebastian's ringtone from "Dancing Queen" to my favorite part in "Every Time I’m With You." It was near the end after a heavy drumbeat "cause every time I'm with you I feel wanted. We could make believers if we dare. We're just two believers if we dare." It was incredible the first time we'd danced to it and it was incredible now. I heard it about six, midnight in France.

I'd barely registered his face before I heard his voice, "If I put that picture on my laptop and my laptop in the bed, I can pretend it's you."

I felt warm all over and smiled, "Yes, you can. Tell me about the first day of shooting."

"It was good. Long, but good. I'm comfortable with Jess and I like her direction." He told me stories that made me proud and made me laugh. "I did well today. What have you been up to?"

I gave him a quick rundown on my day, leaving the bit about making myself at home until last.

He closed his eyes and shook his head. "I can't believe you restocked my kitchen. Thank you. Do whatever you want to feel at home."

"What if I reorganized your drawers because your way doesn't make sense?"

"Have at it. I'll just think I forget and think I did it."

"And your kitchen so it flows better."

He shook his head, "I don't know what that means. Knock yourself out."

I laughed, "I didn't do either."

I loved the lines that formed at the corners of his eyes when he genuinely smiled. Like now, "I don't care what you do. I just want you to feel at home.”

Now we were where I wanted to be, "Here's the thing... my favorite foods in your kitchen, finding where I'm most comfortable to work on my laptop, and figuring out where has the best view when I want to relax with a book are good, but it's not enough. Doing all that did help me figure what's missing."

"What's missing and where can we get it?"

"It's free and I already found it. You make where ever we are home. You're my home."

"I'm your home." He looked a little dazed.

"When you were in my place I felt at home. At your parents, I felt at home. Being at your place with you I was perfectly at home. Paris too. Now I’m back and I did things to feel at home. Took a while until I realized its missing something. You. When I'm with you, wherever we are, I’m home."

I could tell he was processing, by the way his tongue moved, "I like that."

He kept thinking, squinting his eyes a little, "I don't know if you're my home. Not sure where home is. Sometimes I don't feel at home in my own skin. I like that I’m your home." He cringed, "The next couple of weeks are going to suck for you."

I banred out a laugh, "No, once I knew what the issue was I adjusted. I'm good now."

"You don't miss me anymore?"

"Oh, I miss you a lot." Were transitioned into silly conversation.

"Ok, good."

I gasped, "You want me to suffer?"

"Terribly." His eyes were wide as he nodded his head. "So much so that when you see me again you throw yourself into my arms and hold on so tight I can't breathe."

"Therefore making you suffer."

"Yes, please."

I did end up going out with Angie and Eli. Thankfully it was a jeans sort of bar. My hope was if I stayed moving I'd fall over, get a good night's sleep, and get back on New York time. It was a good fun night.

Sunday I took a run before getting ready for Angie to come over. I'd bribed her with her favorite home-cooked meal. I had her take pictures of me in various outfits around his apartment. At one point Angie rolled her eyes, "I can not believe I'm taking pictures of you rolling around in his bed."

"Six weeks, Angie. I suck at selfies. I need a stockpile to pull from."

"What you need is a class in basic photo editing on an iPhone."

"I know."

We went back to her place, stopping for supplies on the way. A few hours later we were feasting on cilantro lime salmon, a creamy garlic parmesan orzo, and a greek salad. I've taught Angie to cook this several times, but she tells me it's never quite right. I think she skimps on the butter and that's a big no. And a healthy splash of the Sauvignon blanc lifts the whole thing a little.

Sebastian and I exchanged texts over the course of the day. A comment or question with stretches of time between answers. Mostly from him. I got excited when an unexpected text came through. His response to my dinner picture was a request for the same meal. Maybe with his parents.

Monday was a busier day. I had to dress like a doctoral student, pack my bags, clean up after myself, and plant surprises like the notes I keep finding in my condo. Mine are more fun. The green g- string from concert night is mixed in with his boxers. A couple of dresses parked next to something they matched well. A peach tank top mixed in with his workout gear. I had Angie take a picture in each room. Printed and framed them. My favorite is me sitting on the toilet. It has a lovely frame and is now on the wall across from the throne. I wanted everything ready for me to leave for home straight from my advisory meeting

My advisory meeting lasted a little over three hours. Three good hours. Dr. Kershaw had been appointed my advisor. I'd taken a class with her while working on my Master's and my second winter in Beacon, but at the time I'd been excited to work with students and studying digital classroom technology was something I wasn't wanting to explore. I wanted to be hands-on molding little minds and still wasn't sure what I wanted to do, but I'd enjoyed working on our team's website. Google Classroom was functional but limited by design. Three hours later I had it narrowed down.

Sebastian had texted me good luck this morning with a picture of his face, eyes closed and lips puckered. I'd sent back a picture of my legs, crossed at the ankles with my skirt draped to the side, while sitting in his favorite chair. I was more than halfway home when his ringtone came through my vehicle's speaker. I hit the button, "Hey, baby."

I could hear his smile in his voice, "Sounds like your lunch went well."

"It did!" I was still excited from lunch and the phone call with Angie after. "I like my advisor. There's only ten of us in the program with the plan to add ten more each fall."

"Wow!" He interjected. "So being accepted is even more impressive."

"Yeah." I was proud of myself. "Small and first-year makes everything very personalized. All of the potential classes overlap with other programs. Cognitive theory from Psych, advanced reading from Education, some Education Law and leadership, computer tech, and even game design. We spent a lot of time talking about what I’m passionate about. In the and I’m thinking I want to focus on reading intervention and programming for K-3."

"Which is what you're passionate about."

I laughed, "and you."

"And me. Did you just talk about direction or is there a plan? What coursework did they accept."

"The fifteen hours I've taken will apply. We designed a basic timeline. I've taken six hours the last two years. I'm confident I can handle that with work and having a life. If I want to take more I can. I don't want to take classes in the summer. Those are usually compressed and pretty intense, plus I'm not in a hurry. Somewhere in the middle, I write a thesis, which looks at a problem or a hole in what already exists. That will feed into my dissertation. I can either do research and design an experiment like comparing existing programs or create my own product."

"Any idea which way you want to go?"

"None at all. I figure the thesis will help figure that out."

"And when do I have to start calling you Doctor?" The seductive tone in his voice told me "have to" wasn't going to be a hardship.

"Three to four years. No summers and using the last semester for my dissertation is four. If I add a class in a couple of semesters or summer and do my dissertation concurrently then three. I have to be done in ten. I'm thinking I’ll figure out what I want to do the first two then design and implement the last two. A lot will depend on how long that takes." He couldn't see me, but I was waving a hand in the air. "It will work itself out."

"I love you."

"I love you. Enough me, tell me about your day."

We talked the rest of the way home where we had some fun.

I called Seattle and went through it all again with Ed. He was as excited and proud of me as was Seb. I found it a little sadly ironic that my lover was in a time zone six hours ahead, my family was three hours behind, and the ones in the same time zone weren't going to know for a few days. I didn't trust them to not take away from my accomplishment, neither did Ed, which meant they'd have to wait. Hell, they barely knew I'd been in France. They'd get to know once I was finished celebrating with people who would just be happy for me. That pushed a Georgia phone call off to the weekend after the volleyball tournament. Maybe after practice tomorrow if I could get my school lunch bunch to come for drinks, I’d even buy. I had no problem funding my own celebration. I just wanted my friends there. Angie and Eli were coming for the weekend. Maybe I'd call while they were here. Eli could make angry faces while Angie tried to scold him. Then either way it went we could drink our way through. That was a good plan. I texted all involved and they agreed.

I ran back out to the grocery for fresh berries, yogurt, and wine to go with my cheese. I bought other good for detox items and healthy foods. A stopped by a smoothie shop for a raspberry white chocolate protein drink. It was amazing how quickly I slid into my summer schedule. Run to the gym to work out. Run home. Have breakfast and practice guitar. Do whatever until it was warm enough to go lay by the pool and read or float. Have dinner, meet up with friends, volleyball practice, or lay on the couch with Netflix

Sebastian and I would text sporadically throughout the day. About nine my time, so three am for him, I'd send him a picture. One Angie took or something I'd taken during the day. He always woke up to see me. Some days that was more arousing than others. We talked almost every day. Maybe five minutes or an hour. Night shoots were the worst. He was working while I was awake and I was asleep during his time off.

The weekend Angie and Eli came down was fun. Friday night we stayed in watching movies and drinking. Saturday's tournament was going well until storms came through. The radar said there were hours of rain left, so they canceled. Since all our plans had been canceled we decided on a bar crawl. Which meant Sunday was spent recovering. We went to brunch at the riverside restaurant where Sebastian and I had our first date. On the drive back I made plans for calling Georgia. Angie and Eli were my get away plan. We went out on the back patio. I set up my iPad where they would only see me, but I could see my support system.

Dad picked up almost immediately, “Hey, Emma. You’re home. Amy told us you were in France.”

“Sebastian had an event so we made it a short vacation.”

“Sounds fun.” My mom had entered the frame. “I bet you appreciated things you overlooked before.”

I laughed, “I did. All those things I saw pictures of later and wished I’d paid more attention to. We had a good time.”

“That’s great.”

Time to dive in. “I wanted to tell you some good news.”

Amy jumped into frame and interrupted, “Can I hear too?”

I ignored the question and just went on, “I was accepted into a new Doctoral program at NYU. It’s education and digital media. It’s new so we’re building my program as we go.”

“That’s great news, Emma.” Dad looked excited, “Dissertation and everything?”

“Yes, it can be research or designing a project. I’ve got about three years to get that figured out. They accepted the post-grad classes I’ve been taking.”

“Congratulations, sweetheart. We’re proud of you.” Mom’s smile was bright.

“My baby sister is going to be a Doctor. I need to figure out my future.”

I shook my head, “You’ll figure it out. What’s right for you and my beautiful niece. She’s a job and a half.”

“I am not enjoying this age.”

“That’s why I teach first grade and not kindergarten or preschool.”

We talked a bit more about school, what was going on there, and how things were with Amy and Max. Mom asked about Sebastian, where he was, and if things were good between us. Instead of shutting her down, like I had in the car, I talked about him.

Not a minute after we hung up Amy texted, “How’s Sebastian feel about calling you Dr? *wink*wink*”

I sent back, “Exactly, like that.”

I closed my tablet and looked at my friends. I was not comfortable. Sure, the conversation had gone fine, but it didn’t feel fine. “That went better than expected.”

“This time.” Eli grimaced, “Sorry.”

“That’s what makes this so hard. This looks normal, but it’s not. If it was, I wouldn’t have this not in the bit of my stomach and want friends here when I talk to them. That’s not normal.”

Angie came over to kneel beside me, bringing me into a hug, “No, it’s not. You don’t need us when you call Seattle.”

Eli joined us, “I don’t think they know what they’re doing, but it doesn’t change it, Emma.”

I laughed, “I know.” I kissed his cheek. Dealing with my parents was worse for him than it was for me. I hated seeing people I love hurt too. I wasn’t hurt though. It was a weird numb.

“You ok, Em?”

I met Angie’s eyes, “I am. Just weird. The happier I am, the more good things going on, the more distant I feel. The better I’m doing, the less supportive they are.”

“Yep!” Eli didn’t hesitate to agree. “And that’s not alright.”

I mussed his hair, “No, it’s not.”

The next week was more of the same. I registered for my fall classes and my books were delivered by Wednesday. I started reading. Yes, I'm that student. I liked to get a head start. I'd never taken classes in the fall. The first month of teaching was exhausting. It took time and energy to get first graders ready to learn. I wasn't sure how that would work with starting my classes. Getting ahead on reading seemed the safest approach.

Thursday afternoon Sebastian called. Drunk. I guess wrapping in Paris was worthy of a party. The rest of cast and crew were packing up and heading to Rome. Sebastian was flying halfway around the world to San Diego's Comic-Con. He'd spend thirty-two hours of his four day weekend in a plane, which meant he was drunk and a little grumpy. By the time I was done with him he was still drunk, but no longer grumpy. He was naked, smiling, and satisfied. Well, as satisfied as he could be over the phone. Even drunk he was insistent that he not see me masturbating for the first time on video. We should have taken care of this.

I set an alarm for the middle of the night to make sure he was awake and would make his plane. It was worth it to lay in bed together.

#Sebastian Stan #Sebastian Stan Fanfiction #fanfiction #sebastian stan X ofc #marvel actor fanfiction

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jiminrings · 4 years

Note

could you maybe do something where it’s yoongi in rich boy!jimin’s au and he meets his y/n or a peak into how their relationship would work ? i love you 🥺💚

contact: you

pairing: yoongi x y/n

glimpse: the water’s cold but yoongi makes it warmer; or that piece in which model!yoongi meets his y/n!!

wordcount: 4k

notes: i love you too!!! :D

also, this yoongi comes from insufferable, that rich boy!jimin au!! in this fic we’re all just gonna pretend that yoongi’s PA goes by another name and not y/n :)) yoongi’s y/n is not jimin’s y/n!! pls don’t be confused that’s all hehe // gif isn’t mine!!

there’s a fine line in between compliments and insults

hENCE backhanded compliments

but in a way it’s still a compliment, right???

would it still be a backhanded compliment if you give it to yourself though,,,,, that’s the question

tHREE YEARS IN FILM SCHOOL

you just can’t seem to know whether graduating a year early than intended from film school is a cOMPLIMENT OR AN INSULT

is it an achievement or is it a curse??

ok initially, you were proud from graduating a year early because that meant one less year dedicating yoursef to studies, right???

big wrong :D

that meant you choosing the most cramped schedule with more units than you think is humanely possible

you just cAN’T help wanting to go on with life faster and easier!!! you went with this track anyway so you could become closer to the diRECTOR you’ve always wanted to be

it’s a pretty simple analogy

and u don’t get why people who took the same course as you did, didn’t think as the same way as you do

because like for example

there’s two options to go to your destination

hmmm let’s say it’s to go to the park!!! a rEALLY famous and beautiful park and if you aren’t early enough, then there’d be no place for you to lay a blanket out and properly enjoy it

the first route is a nicely-paved, nicely-leveled and cemented road, but it’s gonna take about twenty minutes because there’s traffic

the second route is a much shorter trip that would take only ten minutes, but the road may be a lil rocky and not all postlamps are lit and there mAY be a crossing chicken or not

of course you’d go for the second route :D

and now you know why much more people wanted to go with the first route aHA

no disrespect to your alma mater or something but that shit sUCKED

sURE they had decent dorms and it was your decision to take the more hectic schedule that meant much less time for you to do basically anything that’s outside of your film degree

it was having instant noodles atleast four out of the seven days in a week and sometimes even skipping that processed goodie because it always felt like you’d have to be hustling

hustling is a very icky word in ur humble opinion but you like saying that now ironically in your quarter-life crisis

it was the “why would i wait to cook this for ten minutes wHEN i could be doing something else more productive iNSTEAD of eating aka delecting food that helps give what i need to atleast enact my motor functions???” thinking

which is unhealthy ok

beyond unhealthy lmao that’s what you’re sure of

and then you graduated film school!!!

the opportunities you were promised of when you were still studying?? aha zero :D

the idea that once you graduate film school and you iMMEDIATELY have the job of whatever you majored such as directing or screenwriting and etc.,,,,, that is a whole load of bull-

it’s a hierarchy

you’ve graduated with LATIN HONORS and u persevered for three years with your major in directing and u wore a really nice dress for your ceremony :))))

and now you’re fetching coffee and making twenty calls in a half hour and running around to set things up :)))))

an intern :)))))

the only ones who immediately become what they’ve studied for has sOME sort of tie and pull to the industry

you may have made a thesis film that’s ranked the highest in the history of all thesis films in your university :)) and you may have had submitted it to film competitions and got approved and got some plaques :)))

but no that doesn’t mean a sINGLE bit once you’re out in the real world

you’re just taking whatever you get

i mean you dID want to work your way up in the film industry

like as in the movie industry??? the one you went to film school for?????

but what you are doing now :)) is working as an intern for this huge company that handles tv commercials and adverts and shoots :))

aHA not exactly the film industry but atleast it’s still within the media industry, right??

right???

pls say right

anyways

the agenda for today is this watch shoot!!

there’s a tv commercial to be produced out of it and there would also be multiple shoots for the models who’d be here

you dressed up extra good today :D

it wouldn’t matter but atleast it’s the thought that counts somehow

your company’s official lanyard kinda sucks and you can’t change the lace for it nO matter what but it’s no pressure!! your outfit’s gonna make up for it

there’s not exactly a dress code for interns,, it just goes for the terms as long as:

a) it’s still work-appropriate

b) this is a simultaneously unspoken yet obvious rule bUt you just need some boundaries,,,, you can’t stroll up into the set looking like the executive producer or the director who looks a lil bit fancy

c) you shouldn’t attract attention so much because you’re an intern :)) even if that iS the sole purpose of the intern because otherwise how would you land a more secure and higher-ranking job???? are they thinking or-

it’s a black shirt!!!

groundbreaking

but it’s a nice black shirt with embroidery in the front!!!

it’s just n i c e embroidered in the front and uH right on the middle of your chest area that’s clothed obviously but that’s cool

simple, casual, effortless, tINY bit fun

you also aren’t an intern with black pants

but no this is a nICER pair of pants

they’re like slacks!! like fitted slacks but not too fitted and not too formal

you wanted to wear it in tan but that’s not exactly optimized for your job because you are literally always in the go

it’s always just ease of movement in your clothes

and if you could dash in them in getting coffee or whatever the fuck the production team wants or look for duct tape and print lacking scripts like a madman, then you’re good to go :D

you caved in buying those nurse shoes that are raved about because you’re on your feet almost 24/7 and slip-on vans would not always save ur life

ur always wearing ankle support socks too because you’d rather look like an athlete misplaced in a commercial shoot rather than crying at home with how sore your body and most eSPECIALLY your legs are

that can’t stop you either

so now,,, you’re wearing cute socks on top of the support

it’s barely noticeable but it’s the effort you put in ok

and to be extra presentable, you traded your digital watch for the day with your watch that looks a little bit more classy with the silver!!!

it’s an analog watch with a really nice and shiny silver watch strap and although normally ur mind takes tWO seconds to buffer and read it as opposed to instantly knowing the exact time with a digital one, it’s worth it :D

it better be

you can get atleast one glance from park jimin and your life would be forever fulfilled

you signed a non-disclosure agreement once it was presented because after all

wHO WOULDN’T GUSH WHEN THEY KNEW THE LINE-UP FOR THIS SHOOT????

park jimin!!!

kim taehyung!!!

jung hoseok!!!

that’s the only three you knew so far

because they said that you’d know the other ones who are participating for the shoot once it actually happens

and that could mean two things

either you don’t know them at all oR they’d be really really famous and this ensures that you wouldn’t breach the nda you signed

hmmmm jimin’s kinda cute you’re not gonna lie :))

you can’t laze around in the job though because your walkie-talkie’s already bearing your name again and you’re being summoned now

this may be a blessing in disguise tho

you’re one of the interns who get called and noticed frequently and although that means mORE WORK, that also means you’re more trusted and more likely to secure the job you’re aspiring for!!!

“Y/N. There’s some extra copies of the shoot schedule by one of the makeup tables. Bring it over to me in the brief room.”

“of course!!! :D”

that’s one of your favorite producers specifically calling for you in the radio

he also talks very formally

you’ve always been a little bit close to mr. hyun bin because you were a bit of the teacher’s pet back in uni!!! he served as a professor while also being a producer and HE’S the reason you got accepted immediately as an intern here anyway!!

they’re always in the blue folders and that’s what you’re looking for very eagerly right now

because uHHHH there seems to be about a hundred makeup tables right now and mr. hyun didn’t exactly specify where

ok now where could that be

okay no it’s not on the table

lmao you find them sitting by a chair in front of the makeup table and you need to get it before someone sITS and dents the folder because mr. hyun gets a bit cranky when the folder isn’t smooth

“But the folder’s job is to keep the documents inside it smooth. If the folder’s damaged, then that also means that the contents inside it, is also damaged to a degree.”

no he said that

he literally said that once

if you could read thoughts in the air then mr. hyun probably speaks in proper punctuation AND capitalization

you found the schedule

and you also found this guy dressed in a really nice suit who looks very breathtaking

.... and is frustrated?

NOW HE LOOKS VERY FAMILIAR!!! you just can’t remember the name right now

he must be a talent because no one else is wearing the same suit that he is and his visuals are just beyond gorgeous so that must be it

he’s hunched on his makeup chair alone???

and there’s something on his hand and he keeps dipping his finger to his cupped hand and keeps squinting to the mirror in front of him and

“do you need help, sir?”

yoongi almost jumps out from his chair because oh my god are you-

oh huh.,., you’re not his personal assistant

you see

contact lens would be the absolute BANE of yoongi’s whole existence

he just can’t put it in

he’s said that sO many times to people who find him frustrating over it and whenever they make a “that’s what she said” joke it just makes him want to poke his eyeballs

“no, no. uh it’s okay!! i just can’t aGH shit i just need to learn how to put these cursed contacts in.”

oh he’s cute

like real cute

“name?”

wait wHAT

he’s a bit perplexed because why are you asking for his name

and uh quick question wHY don’t you know his name

not to brag but yoongi,,,, he knows to himself that he’s a world-renowned model!!! he’s done countless shoots!!! he’s appeared in so many things!!!!! why don’t you-

ok he’s being a little bit boastful in his head now

“min yoongi.”

he just states his name and he doesn’t get how would that help with his problem right now

you’ve asked because you’re searching for his name by the schedule and you’re just absent-mindedly muttering his name as you search for it

“min yoongi min yoongi min yOU OH!!! oh!!!! min yoongi!!!!!”

lmao alright that’s it

you remember him immediately and it clicks with you that oh my god this is min yoongi!!!!

that’s the reaction he was initially looking for but it’s okay he’s just gonna be humble about it

“okay well first of all, it says here that you’re about to be called in nine minutes from now so hOW about i just give you a hand, hmm??”

that is not exactly a request

because even before yoongi could like half-heartedly agree (he wants to do it so badly but he can’t) and thank you, you’re already pulling his palm towards yours

“the solution’s drying out,,, how long have you been trying to get it in?”

he hears you ask him in a teasing voice and he kinda frowns at that because well NOW he’s too embarrassed to answer :((

you’re wordlessly grabbing the solution that’s on his desk before you squirt some on your curved palm and plucking out the lens that used to be on his palm

“you have to clean it first.”

“mhmm....,., yes.,.,.., i know that.”

a little bit

jUST a little bit

“you clean it first in these motions, see?? don’t rub it clockwise or anything like that”

ooh so that’s how it goes

he doesn’t want to be rude but he thinks that you’re not the director of this shoot

and there’s nothing bad about that!!!! he just wouldn’t know how to feel if the director were to see him frustrated over contact lens and they’d be the one to do it for him

“pick it up like a bowl!! make sure that the ends of it turn iNWARDS, okay?? inwards!!! if the ends poke out then it would literally hurt so much and maybe you’d be blind”

YOONGI DIDN’T EVEN KNOW THAT UNTIL NOW

so that’s where he went wrong for like five times,,,,,

“never put it in dry, okay? otherwise it would hurt too.”

that’s it yoongi’s taking this girl’s words down

he doesn’t know wHO you are but he appreciates you

“now tilt your head down a little bit for me :))”

yoongi bows his head and it kinda makes you snort because he was serious with that one

“nO NO just a little bit, mr. min.”

you have your thumb on his chin just to get it to the right position

he will d-word right now oh my god is he a dummy

how could you pOSSIBLY put the contacts on him if his head was hung that low

in any angle though, he looks so nice

he has long eyelashes too and they’re pointing downwards so that may add on to his problem

“now look up”

whew oh god you need to avert your eyes a little bit because you’re just realizing now that this is mIN YOONGI you’re dealing with right now

“or at me!! yeah that would work too :))”

yoongi’s just killing it with his social cues huh :)))))))))

you’re placing delicately the lens by his sclera and yoongi kinda panics and is at the same excited because this is dEFINITELY HAPPENING

“ok calm dOWN and now move your eye until the contact clings and keep moving it still even if you’ve got it already for like eight seconds!!!”

he did it

well technically yOU DID IT

BUT STILL!!!!!

“oh my god that is the qUICKEST thing ever omg now the other eye!! do the other eye!!! :D”

he’s so giddy over you putting on his contact lens and he doesn’t even know you and you just feel so familiar to him!!

yoongi trusts you with his contact lens and that’s enough trust you’d ever need

“aaaaand we’re done!! :D”

“thank you!! what’s your n-“

alright that is mr. hyun asking for a follow-up in the walkie-talkie by asking where’s the schedules and that means you immediately have to dash to the briefing room :))

yoongi didn’t even catch your name :((

you didn’t even get to say goodbye to him :((

you didn’t get to see yoongi for the rest of the shoot because after you’ve delivered the papers, you were then summoned to take care of the catering company that’s gonna do it’s second rounds and to facilitate whatever they needed to do :((((

it’s a bummer though

you dIDN’T even get to see the actual shoot get done because you were too busy verifying the payments if those fish fingers are really priced like that in the receipt you were given :((

you’re probably never gonna see him again

there’s another shoot you’ve been called for again the next week and this time, it was for a luxury brand that’s releasing it’s summer line and the settings for it were a beach AND a swimming pool

they couldn’t have just become satisfied with a beach and had to add on a fancy pool filled with chlorine and then more chlorine for the sets

“Y/N, do you know how to swim?”

mr. hyun asks you so casually as your only task as of now is to stand beside him as he lists things and you check it off in your clipboard

“hmm. i do know how to swim, mr. hyun, but not professionally, y’know?? they don’t exactly teach dives in film school”

he laughs at that and you smile at that because good for you :))

“Good. Because we’re gonna need someone to keep these floaties still, and the lifeguard’s out, and here’s a rashguard.”

what

what in the actual fUCK

you see

although this is for a summer line and a summer shoot

yOU’RE SHOOTING IN JANUARY

and you came into work today not thinking that you’re gonna be in a frEEZING pool wearing a rashguard underneath your shirt to keep these floaties still!!!!

you love your job you love your job you love your job!!!!!

maybe if you say it enough, it’s gonna come true!!!!!

“oH ITS YOU AGAIN!!!”

hold up

that’s

“yoongi????”

“cONTACT GIRL!!!!!”

the both of you are genuinely surprised to see each other ok

at this point, you should automatically assume that yoongi would always be the undisclosed model in your shoots

you’re looking up at him and he’s looking down on you because CLEARLY he is not in the freezing pool as you are

“i’d let you put in my contacts right now, but it doesn’t exactly make a good addition to chlorine :]”

the water’s freezing but yoongi just makes it warmer :))

mr. hyun’s saying the directions to you as to where in the pool you should place yoongi and the floatie’s slippery and you dON’T want to risk getting the clothes wet because it’s not intended.,..,. even if this is a summer shoot

he has a tough crowd (you) and you’re just kinda deadpanning because you now feel you aRE a little bit embarrassed even if this is your job and u shouldn’t be

“i’m kidding!! jus kidding :D”

humor doesn’t exactly click when you’re about waist-deep and aBOUT to be shoulder-deep into freezing cold water

and now since you look a fool, you’re just gonna deal with the slippery floatie and yoongi notices so he’s the one who takes your hand instead as he nudges you to move

:] i was just joking pls don’t hate me :]

you stop the moment mr. hyun says sTOP that’s perfect and before you could awkwardly waddle yourself away from the camera’s view-

“is your face just good and the sunscreen you used is matte, or do you just not have any sunscreen on??”

yoongi asks with much concern as if it’s the most important thing in the world and he doesn’t have a shoot to do

“i don’t have-...”

“no? oh come on, contact girl!! come here for a second!!!”

you look to mr. hyun because Sir is it really and he’s just screaming back with his eyes going gO COME TO MIN YOONGI

you’re confused and before you know it, yoongi’s reaching for you and digging into his pocket and-

“sunscreen stick!! the sun’s always there even if it’s freezing, y’know?”

this time, it’s yoongi tilting your chin up and very delicately swipes the stick on your face and even taps it in

:))

“all done!! let’s start the shoot!!”

he claps up and everybody gets into position and you have to waddle back to your spot awkwardly with your cheeks heating up

you don’t know if it’s yoongi’s power move to swipe his own sunscreen sticks on people but it fEELS LIKE IT IS

he’s very well-aware of what he’s done and he now has every intention to ask you what’s your name after this

although tHAT doesn’t happen again because now mr. hyun’s telling you to come up and get all dried down because after this, he’s gonna need you to ask the front desk if you could access more of their amenities for the sudden changes in the shoot :(((

yoongi almost doesn’t want to leave the set because you’re out again :((( and he still hasn’t had the chance to ask you your name

uGH it’s just so unfair :(((

you feel the same way and you just wanna see him!!! even if he’s only gonna tease you for most of the time and you’re gonna be a blushing mess throughout!!!

you’re cranky ok

you’re more cranky than how mr. hyun gets with dented folders

you’ve had two back-to-back shoots this week and you’ve only had ONE hour of sleep for the whole time

seriously

not to mention that you thought you’d also see yoongi in atleast one of those projects :(( but it was a no-go either

your job is just sO demanding

it starts earlier and ends later than how the printed schedules say and is much more different than the talent’s

speaking of talents, these artists are just pure out LATE and not only are they setting a bad impression on the director!!!!

but they are also the reason for the bane of your existence!!!you call their drivers non-stop to ask for the whereabouts and to adjust the catering’s schedule and the amends that you need to make for people

they make your job harder and your hours longer and your fatigue greater

you actually feel like you’re gonna pASS OUT

mr. hyun’s the one who’s assigning you to these projects and as MUCH as you’re thankful because that means better pay and more exposure and more experience,,, he’s really not seeing the fatigue he’s putting you thru right now

you forgot your ankle support,,,, you have nOT eaten three meals today,,,, you haven’t drank water for hours,,,,, you fEEL like you’re gonna pass out

and someone’s just called you over again to deliver these hair pins to this specific trailer asap and oh god your ankles are just gonna fall off at this point

ok quick knock and you enter and-

“hmm?? oh, it’s okay!! we don’t need it anymore. someone else already brought in new ones :))”

fu-

“cONTACT GIRL!!!!!!”

if you took a moment to read the name that’s by the front of the trailer, you’d know that this is yoongi’s trailer and the makeup artists just went straight to his,, instead of him coming to them because he just can’t be damned to stand and walk over there :D

the makeup artist you were talking to moved out of the way so the both of you could see each other and sO yoongi could also stop stretching his neck out to the max

they’re finishing up anyway

his contact lens case was held by this makeup artist and she was about to put em in and yoongi snatched back the case :))

“here!!! put them on me!!!”

okay that’s a bit awkward for the other girl yikes.,.,. she’s just uh gonna exit the trailer with the other makeup artists now

“hi.”

you only greet back now as you get the case for him and yoongi frowns at that

why aren’t you cheery???? he’s used to you being more enthusiastic than him so wHY is he the one carrying the conversation (that hasn’t been even started) that’s already dwindling out

you’re getting really really sluggish and this sudden heavy wave of sleepiness is really hitting you

you dO look kinda hazy

“are you okay??”

yoongi’s holding you by the sides of your arms and your eyes are blinking so slowly as you try to nod but that just won’t cut it for him

“well i think yOU need to rest”

he’s standing up and is about to put you onto his sofa so you could like perhaps nap a minute or two since he knows fatigue when he sees it

but by the looks of it, he can’t even make you lie down because you’re already sitting down

sitting down

on his lap

oN HIS LAP

this is really.,.,...nice

yoongi’s a bit shocked and there aren’t any sentences forming in his head besides “what’s your name, contact girl???” as if that is the mOST pressing issue right now

“ᶦ’ᵐ ʸ/ⁿ” is what you could only practically mumble because this pillow is really soft and warm and heavenly and u want nothing more at the moment than to be buried in it

yoongi has never felt this soft

ever

there’s you accidentally falling asleep on him

literally ON him

and his hands are still hovering but he decides to relocate them on your back, rubbing small circles and even patting softly

your hair smells really good too

he must’ve been to engrossed in it as you burst awake some minutes later and you almost bump his jaw on your way up

“oh my gOD did i just pass out on your lap???”

well you’re still sat on his lap and you’re scrambling away while you’re still groggy and he has to reach for you before you could topple over

“no problem!! it’s cool i sWEAR!!!”

he quickly explains what’s happened and how he’s close with hyun bin and how he literally conversed for like two seconds and your producer immediately agreed

yoongi just said “hEY mr. hyun!!! y/n works for you, right?? i’m SO sorry if this isn’t in my position to ask but y’know she did just kinda pass out and i was wondering if she could just lay down in my trailer for awhile??”

within two minutes mr. hyun apparently went to the trailer and delivered your backpack and he keeps in mind to apologize to you later on and hmmmmm is there anything going on between you and yoongi???

“are there any pillows?”

underneath the cushion the both of you are sitting at, there is a shit tON of pillows he just keeps there

there’s memory foam!! cotton!! feather!! a hybird of those two!!!

yoongi decides to answer and he delivers it with the straightest answer possible

“... no.”

he quickly clears his throat as he looks to his lap and taps on it so you could lie down on him!!

you think you like yoongi :)))

yoongi is positive that he likes you :)))

you stand up for a moment and he panics because nO where are you going??? but it was just for you to retrieve your phone and grab your earphones!!

you kind of have an irrational fear of buying airpods and that shit just falling every two seconds and then you could nEVER find it

and so here you are :)) offering yoongi an earphone as you lay your head on his lap

there’s just something so familiar with the melody

the lyrics

the vOICE

so familiar to the point that yoongi’s heart practically drops because oh god

tHAT’S HIM

THAT’S HIM IN HIS OTHER JOB THAT ONLY HE KNOWS ABOUT

“this suga guy.,, i like him.”

“o-oH???”

yoongi doesn’t know whether he should feel jealous because you like this suga guy

but he doesn’t know shit because he IS that suga guy!!!

and so his mind’s fuzzy and all-conflicted as you babble on, about to be lulled to sleep again

“once i get to make a film, like an actual full-length film and jUST not a thesis film,,,, i’m hiring him,,,, i don’t care if he consumes like 80% of my budget for that film iM HIRING HIM!!!”

yoongi’s about to practically combust right now

he’s grinning from ear-to-ear, looking down on you who he’s grown fond of so much so fast and is lying down on his lap, his thumb pressing down on your cheek softly as he tilts his head

“do you wanna know a secret?”

#tHANK U SO MUCH BABIE THIS WAS SO HEARTWARMING AND FUN TO WRITE!!!#feedback pls and thank u :D #requested drabbles #yoongi #min yoongi #yoongi imagine #yoongi imagines #min yoongi imagine #min yoongi imagines #yoongi blurb #yoongi blurbs #yoongi oneshot #yoongi oneshots #min yoongi oneshot #yoongi headcanon #yoongi headcanons #yoongi fic rec #yoongi fic recs #insufferable

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writings-of-a-daphodil · 4 years

Text

Fire Keeper: Chapter 2

Douxie x fem reader

Series Summary: You are Jim's older sister who is taking a break from college and has moved back home to Arcadia. You end up joining Jim and his friends on their adventures.

Masterlist in bio!

Chapter 1: https://writings-of-a-daphodil.tumblr.com/post/626769179653046272/fire-keeper-chapter-1

Chapter 2 summary: You get to see Trollmarket and meet Vendel.

"Hey Douxie," You said smiling at him as he walked past you. Another day of work was coming to a close and you were excited to go home and talk to Jim. You hadn't had the chance earlier with Blinky and Aaarrrgghh's vist and the near miss with your mom coming home. Then it was a school day so you didn't see each other that morning because he left early. Now was the perfect time to talk, your mom was at the clinic and it would be just the two of you.

You had to admit you were worried and scared along with excited. Not only was Jim apparently chosen to be some kind of superhero, but you apparently had some kind of magic. Or at least you were pretty sure you had magic, you weren't an expert or anything.

You were about to open the door to exit the bistro, this time checking where you were going, when Douxie called out to you, "Hey Y/n, do you have a second?"

You turned around. "Yeah, what's up."

"I was wondering, do you like books?"

"Yes..."

"Well, I work at a bookstore and some new books came in if you want to check them out." He smiled at you charmingly and handed you a business card that said GDT Arcane Books.

"I'll have to check it out some time," you said, turning around to leave.

"See you soon Y/n." You grinned as you stepped outside and you felt your heart was beating oddly. You had to admit that you felt excited and giddy over yours and Douxie's conversation. You took a deep breath and tried not to let it go to your head as you started walking towards your car. Douxie was known as a bit of a flirt.

It was a bit of a long walk to your car. You had to park far away today, traffic sucked and the construction wasn't making it any better.

You turned the corner and crossed the street, something felt off and you were eager to see Jim. You smiled politely at the workers as you speed walked away. You began to get out your keys when you heard Jim call your name.

You looked up to see your little brother and Toby on their bikes. "Hey guys, how was school?"

"Jim had to try out for Romeo and Juliet because the amulet activated," Toby explained and you laughed.

"Did you at least get the part?" You asked jokingly. "I don't know, but I'll tell you all about it at home," Jim said. Then he sighed. "I don't know how I'll find the time to do that and the troll hunting thing too."

"Toby and I have your back Jim." You gave your brother a reassuring pat.

"That's right Jimbo," Toby affirmed.

"So what distressed you so much that your amulet reacted?" You asked, backing towards your car.

"That's just it I wasn't distressed back at school," Jim explained.

You opened your mouth to answer, but a thud stopped you. The three of you turned your attention to see whatever it was and found a gigantic black troll standing up the street. It let out a loud roar.

"But I'm in distress now!" Jim yelled hopping onto his bike.

"Trollhunter, Merlin's Creation, Gunmar's bane!" The black troll called out and you realized that this was the troll, Bular, Blinky had mentioned. You shuddered, he was much more terrifying than you imagined.

The three of you stood there frozen until Toby spoke up, "I think he's talking to you Jimbo."

Bular roared again and tried to charge at the three of you, but stopped short. He fidgeted in the shade, growling.

"He's afraid of the sun!" Jim said, sounding slightly relieved.

"Not for long," Toby said, his voice filled with worry.

"The amulet! Surrender it, and I will give you a speedy death!" Bular yelled, creeping closer as the sun began to set. Jim looked back at you and saw your determined face.

"Y/n, get in your car and drive, find Blinky and Aarrrgghh! Toby, go with her!"

"I am not leaving you Jim," you protested.

"Yeah, Jimbo, neither am I. And there is no way I am leaving my bike here," Toby added.

"Fine, but Y/n go find the trolls and meet us at the bridge."

"This goes against all my big sister instincts,” you sighed, “but I'll go. But only so I can get Aaarrrgghh so he can fight that thing. Stay safe!"

You quickly got in your car and drove away towards the bridge. You didn't really know where you would find Blinky and Aaarrrgghh, but home sounded like your best bet. They were there yesterday after all, why wouldn't they come again after dropping that stuff on your brother?

You made a sharp turn onto your street and another one onto your driveway. You barely had time to take the key out of the ignition before you were out of the car and locking it. The sun was almost gone but still high enough to burn the trolls so you sprinted towards the cover of the woods.

"Blinky!? Aaarrrgghh!?" You whisper-shouted their names over and over again until you felt someone tap on your shoulder. You held in a scream as you whirled around to see Aaarrrgghh standing behind you.

“Hi,” he said in his calming voice and you smiled. Now that you had found the trolls the three of you could help Jim and Toby.

“Oh thank goodness I found you. We’ve got a situation. Bular is chasing Jim and Toby, we need to meet them by the bridge.

“Ah, let us go help them then,” Blinky said, turning to run. You broke into a steady jog as you followed them.

The three of you raced to go help your little brother and fear gripped you. It was obvious that Jim was strong, but you were still worried.

Just as you broke out of some trees Jim and Toby rode up on their bikes.

“Master Jim!” Blinky laughed excitedly and you took a deep breath in relief. Jim and Toby were safe.

“Did you tell them what happened?” Jim asked, trying to catch his breath.

“Yeah,” you replied, doing the same. You took a few more breaths and all you could think of was how grateful you were that they were safe.

“Look at you, you're still alive. I knew you had potential Master Jim,” Blinky said, smiling wide. He seemed genuinely proud of Jim and you found yourself growing to like and respect the troll a bit more.

“You have a sweet voice, but you bring death with you!” Toby accused as he still tried to catch his breath. You realized that while your brother and his friend were here and alive, they hadn’t exactly lost Bular.

“You can fight him, right?” Jim asked, exasperated and you had to agree you were begging in to feel the same.

“I could not hope to possess the skill to defeat Bular,” Blinky said.

“What about him? He’s big,” Toby asked and I nodded,” Aaarrrgghh could help.

“Pacifist,” was all Aaarrrgghh said and you sighed, but you had to respect his choice.

“What a waste of a hulking brute,” Toby mumbled and you laughed.

“Thanks,” Aaarrrgghh responded.

Nobody else was able to say anything as Bular once again showed and let out a roar.

“We’ll be safe in Trollmarket!” Blinky yelled, leading the way. The three of you began sprinting while Jim and Toby began peddling. You put all your energy into running and getting away from Bular. As you went through the streets in an attempt to get to the forest Toby’s bike hit something and he fell. Thankfully Aaarrrgghh caught him and you were able to get on your way.

You made it to the canal and the four of you minus Jim went under the bridge. Panic gripped you again as you saw Jim just barely get his armor on and fly into the canal.

Bular began calling out threats that chilled you to the bone because you knew if he got the chance he would go through with them.

They began fighting and you took a few steps towards him. If you could activate your magic then maybe you could help Jim.

Aaarrrgghh grabbed your arm, “No.”

“But I can help him!” You protested and your hands began glowing the same bright orange color as the other day. You held them out in front of you and the same fiery blast rippled out of your hands and nearly hit Bular. It fortunately distracted Bular, but it unfortunately distracted Jim as well, gaining him no advantage.

“What was that? How did fire come out of her hands?” Toby asked, shocked.

“That, Tobias was unpracticed magic which is also why Ms. Lake should not be allowed to fight. You might accidentally hurt Master Jim,” Blinky explained.

“Fine,” you relented, stepping inside the barrier which was quickly closing.

“Jim!” you called out to him right as the barrier closed. Panic gripped you, he was almost inside.

Blinky and Aaarrrgghh reacted, though. You and Toby watched in nervous fear as the two trolls did something and were able to pull Jim inside the barrier. It all happened in a matter of seconds, but your nerves were still fried.

“Oh Jim, you’re okay!” you exclaimed pulling him and Toby into a quick group hug.

The five of you began walking down the gigantic and gorgeous crystal staircase. You marveled at the blue and purple beauties as Blinky and Aaarrrgghh explained things.

If you had thought the staircase was gorgeous, you were blown away by the beauty of Trollmarket.

There were hundreds, maybe thousands of gemstones, all in different, spectacular, colors. It was the most beautiful place you had seen.

Blinky and Aaarrrgghh began leading you through the Trollmarket and you were amazed by all the different trolls there and their diversity. Just from glimpses at their lives you could see that they had a rich culture and possibly an even richer history.

The two trolls brought you three to a sort of balcony that overlooked a chasm and beyond it an island that held the largest gemstone you had ever seen. It was spectacular. The orange color was the same as your magic and you felt a connection to the gemstone, or the Heartstone as Blinky and Aaarrrgghh called it. The name Heartstone Trollmarket now made sense to you.

After a confrontation with a blue troll named Draal—who kind of reminded you of a cross between a gemstone, reindeer, and a hedgehog—the five of you continued on your tour through the market, arriving at The Hero’s Forge.

Eventually your tour was interrupted by Vendel, who was apparently the elder troll. You laughed as he grilled Toby about being the Trollhunter, but stopped when Jim stepped forward with the amulet.

Vendal and Blinky began to argue and Vendel expressed his unhappiness that Jim was the Trollhunter and though you wanted to protest, you held your tongue when Aaarrrgghh gently shook his head at you.

You almost ignored his advice when Vendel ordered Jim to use something called the Soothcryer. When Jim’s test was declared inconclusive you decided that enough was enough and no one would speak to your little brother like that.

“Pardon, but just because your test is ‘inconclusive,’ doesn’t mean that Jim is any less of a Trollhunter and it also doesn’t mean that Blinky is any less of a trainer for believing in him.” You glared at Vendel and unclenched your fists which you realized were glowing.

“Hmm, who are you?” He asked

“Y/n Lake, Jim’s older sister.” You said, continuing to glare.

“So the Trollhunter’s sister is a sorceress, very interesting. If you have a minute I would like to speak with you privately,” Vendel said, walking away.

“You should go speak with him, Ms. Lake. Vendel is a very knowledgeable troll when it comes to magicks and perhaps you will learn something,” Blinky advised and you nodded.

“Blinky right. Vendel smart,” Aaarrrgghh said.

“Thank you, both of you,” you said to the two trolls.

“You are most certainly welcome,” Blinky said.

“Welcome,” Aaarrrgghh added and you smiled.

You turned to Jim and Toby. “I’ll be home soon. Watch each other’s back and stay safe.”

“Bye Y/n, go learn some magic stuff,” Jim said, giving you a quick hug.

“Bye.” You turned to follow Vendel into the next chapter of your life.

*****

Here is Chapter 2. I'm really excited to write this and see where it goes. I hope y'all like it and are doing well/staying safe! Chapter three should be out by either Friday or Saturday. :)

Chapter 3: https://writings-of-a-daphodil.tumblr.com/post/627127268120117248/fire-keeper-chapter-3

#douxie x reader #douxie imagine #toa douxie #wizards douxie #douxie #toa #toa imagine #tales of arcadia #tales of arcadia imagine #wizards #wizards imagine #trollhunters #trollhunters imagine

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