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fourmoony · 8 months

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𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 (𝟑)

james potter x f!reader

fluff. 1.8k

Summary: James and Sirius miss Hope's first steps, but not her first time on a broom.

i love this little family so much, so now consider 'hope' as a mini series :) - h <;3

part 1 - part 2 - part 4 - masterlist

...

Hope is standing in the middle of the room, her little hands outstretched towards Remus.

He’s holding a magic camera, his eyes wide and words encouraging as he talks to her. They’re in matching pyjamas Sirius bought everyone the previous Christmas that have little Christmas trees and candy canes on. It’s March, the night before Hope’s first birthday, but the matching pyjamas have become a staple of lazy days spent in yours and James’ home. Hope wobbles on her feet a little, big blue eyes wide with laughter. Remus laughs too, snapping photograph after photograph as his niece stumbles towards him.

You’re cheering, too, from behind her, hands clasped to your mouth. You’ve been an emotional wreck all day. Hope turns one, tomorrow, and you’re starting to understand why James is adamant she’s growing too fast. It’s been nine months. The war is still raging on but being able to come home from the potion’s lab, or an order meeting, and have your little girl be there, safe, loved, and a beacon of pure light and joy, makes everything a little less scary. You fight every day for a world in which she can grow and be safe. You know a lot of people aren’t so lucky. But Hope has lived up to her name’s sake for your family.

And now she’s going to be one.

And she’s taking her first steps towards Remus, who’s cheering loudly, and your daughter is giggling, and you’re crying.

Tears of pure joy are streaming down your face when Hope finally reaches Remus and falls into his arms. Remus sets the camera down and picks her up. He holds her to his face, blows a raspberry against her cheek, and she howls with laughter. When he sets her back down, Hope tootles back towards you, bright eyed, wide smiled, and fast on her feet. You’re waiting with open arms, ecstatic when your daughter collapses into them. Remus is back to snapping photos, which you’re glad of because if James isn’t already going to be gutted that he missed Hope’s first steps, he’ll be livid if he finds out there’s no photographic evidence of it.

“Oh,” You breathe when Hope’s tiny hand tries to swipe at your wet cheeks, “Oh, my sweet girl.”

“You okay?” Remus asks, though he looks just as close to tears despite the wide smile on his face.

You nod, wipe at your tacky cheeks, and send hope off to play with the collection of toys she’s set up in the middle of the living room, “She’s growing up too fast, Rem.”

Remus laughs and nods like he agrees, “You sound like James.”

“He’s going to be so annoyed.”

“We have the photos,” Remus tries to placate, but you both know James is still going to pitch a fit about missing Hope’s first steps.

Sirius, too, probably.

Remus gets up to make a cuppa for you both and you settle back to watch Hope. When he returns, you sit on the floor together and watch her. She’s in her own world, not a clue that it’s going to be her birthday tomorrow. She has no idea all your friends will be over for dinner to celebrate her, that there’ll be gifts for her, and cake for her. In a way it’s nice that she doesn’t have a clue. You know one day, when she’s four or five, and she understands more, that you’ll likely have to scrape her off the ceiling from excitement.

When James and Sirius get back Hope is on the suite with a bottle, half asleep. None the wiser, James leans down to press a kiss onto her head as he passes into the kitchen to find you and Remus. The kitchen windows are fogged up, a pot of soup bubbling away on the stove whilst you wash dishes and Remus dries and puts them away. The radio is playing softly in the background, mixed with the soft sound of Sirius’ voice as he talks to Hope about his day.

James appears in the doorway and he’s smiling the kind of smile where you know that he’s feeling grateful for the scene he’s come home to.

“Hey,” He greets you both.

You smile, drying your hands on a tea towel, and approach him for a kiss. You’re on your tippy toes when Sirius starts screaming from the living room. Your blood runs cold as Sirius shouts for you, James, and Remus, mind running wild with every possible danger that could have unfolded in the two minutes he’s been alone with Hope. There could be Death Eaters at your house – though, it’s physically unplottable, the thought still runs through your mind. Hope could have fallen from the couch onto her head. The list is endless.

The three of you are out of the kitchen and standing wide eyed in the living room in record time, scanning for any sign of danger. Sirius is standing by the window, jumping up and down excitedly, pointing at your daughter who is waddling towards him with a wide grin. She’s giggling again, and it’s that sound that kills your fight or flight mode. Now, you smile happily, watching as James proceeds to dissolve into a fit of tears.

He’s smiling and jumping with Sirius, but he’s sobbing uncontrollably, too.

You and Remus share a look. A silent question. Should you burst their bubble?

“Why aren’t you two more excited?” Sirius accuses.

And now you don’t have a choice because you’ve been caught.

“Babe,” James points, like maybe you can’t see your daughter walking back and forth, and he drops to the floor and corrals her into his arms, “Hope is walking!”

You nod, smiling wide, “Yeah, I see.”

Sirius looks at Remus. Maybe it’s because James is too distracted with kissing all over Hope’s face and mumbling how proud he is that he hasn’t noticed, but Sirius notices the way Remus is nervously biting his lip and immediately gasps.

“Treason!” He points at his boyfriend, wide eyed and accusatory.

“What?” James looks up, brows furrowed.

You and Remus are shifting on your feet. Hope sidles up to your leg, arms wrapping around your calf. You take the opportunity to bend down and pick her up, avoiding James’ question.

“How was shopping? Did you find the doll for-“ You try.

“Stop deflecting! They knew! She’s done it already!” Sirius is hysterical.

James stands, hands on his hips, and you fold.

“I’m sorry! She only did it literally like an hour before you got home!”

“We have photos.” Remus tries, backing away from Sirius as he charges at him.

James looks positively heartbroken. He frowns, blinks, “I missed her first steps?”

You frown, walk towards James, shift Hope further up your hip. He wraps an arm around you both, looks down at his daughter and his resolve softens. He smiles, leans forward to kiss her head. She gurgles, looks up at him with bright blue eyes. It fills your heart with love. Sirius and Remus are bickering to your right, and James is talking softly to Hope about how she must wait for him before achieving any more important milestones. You’re so grateful, so filled with love and joy and hope for the future.

The world isn’t perfect.

But when you have a family like yours, the world feels like maybe, one day, it could be.

“Don’t hate me.” You mumble, leaning your head on James’ shoulder.

James huffs a laugh, presses his lips to the crown of your head, pulls you in tighter, “Never, ever.”

“Did you get the doll?” You ask.

James nods, you feel it against your head.

You still have to wrap Hope’s presents. You should really get her to bed soon. But you don’t want to leave this moment with the people you love most.

“So, can I go get the toy broom from the cupboard?” Sirius asks. He and Remus seem to have made up. Sirius is leaning against Remus’ chest, a wicked smile on his lips.

You sigh, look at your daughter, mentally debating. Sirius has been dying to get Hope on a broom since he met her. You gave him strict rules – not until she could walk. And now she can walk. But a part of you worries she’ll love flying. The toy broom is charmed to fly, so you know she can have that. But Hope’s birth parents were muggles, and you know when she gets older, she won’t be able to mesh her magic with a broom to make it fly. Unless.

“Fine. Okay,” You concede. “But no higher than the coffee table!”

Sirius isn’t listening, already throwing winter coats and Christmas decorations out of the cupboard to get to the toy broom.

“I’ll get the camera.” Remus announces.

“What do we do when she’s too old for the toy broom?” You ask James, gnawing on your lip.

“I’ll look into some charms for bigger brooms, I’m not too sure. I’m sure there’ll be a way for her to be on a broom, at least.” James replies, just as antsy at you.

You’ve talked at length about how if you and James have more children, one day, Hope will be the only one without magical abilities. But you’ve never been able to come up with an actual solution. Really, there’s not one. It’s going to suck. But right now, while she has the chance to fly, who would you be to stop her? You never want to hold Hope back. You never will. So, when Sirius returns and takes Hope from your arms, hands the broom to James, you can’t help but feel excited.

James holds the broom and Sirius sets Hope on it.

She’s clumsy, holding onto Sirius’ arms rather than the handle, and she kicks her feet violently, which makes the broom wobble. But Sirius moves with her, laughing with pure unfiltered happiness. Remus snaps photos, following Sirius and Hope around the room. You sit, legs crossed, on the floor, a hand on your heart because you feel like you might explode. It’s cute and it’s happy and your house is filled with so much joy.

“At least I got to see her first time on a broom.” James placates with himself as he sits down next to you.

You laugh just as Sirius tries to take his hands off of Hope. She wobbles and almost topples off the side of the broom and you fly forwards. By the time you get there, Hope has corrected herself, and is flying with ease just high enough for her tip toes to be touching the ground. You still. Let out a breath. Sirius looks up guiltily.

“Her first and last.” You tell James.

“What’s that burning smell?” Remus asks, before Sirius can argue back.

You frown, looking around, “The soup!”

“Shit.” Remus abandons the camera and follows you to the kitchen.

From the living room, you can hear Sirius assuring Hope that it won’t be her last time on a broom, that her uncle Sirius will make her a quidditch star in no time. You hope, by some miracle, that he's right. You'll love her either way, though.

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xxhispieceofheavenxx · 1 year

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All is peachy || Regulus Black

Summary: After spending the summer hooking up with his brother's best friend, Regulus convinces himself she only wants him because she can't have Sirius. Or where Regulus masturbates with a peach but he is sad while doing so. (basically, the peach scene from call me by your name)

CW: slight angst to fluff, smut, male masturbation, oral sex (male receiving), self-dought, French!Regulus, French!Sirius, fem!reader. Let me know If I missed something.

Word count: 2.9k words

Hiii! I'm back with a Regulus one-shot. I had this in the back of my mind for a while now and I'm so glad I could write it down. I said that this fic wouldn't take me long, and it didn't because I've been writing it nonstop, but it's still the longest story I've written. With that being said I hope you enjoy it!

Request are open

Masterlist

The loud laughter makes his eyes roll as his mouth puffs out a breath. Sirius' voice is boisterous while joking around with his cousins Juliette, Lèon and Manon. It usually wouldn't bother him as much as it does today, but among his family, he can hear the sweet laughter that's been plaguing his mind for the entirety of the summer.

She's waist-deep in the water, squinted eyes as Sirius continues splashing water around the group. The sun shines bright, making her hair and skin look even more lively than usual. He should join them; the heat is almost unbearable even as he sits under the shadow of a big tree, pretending to read his worn-out copy of Moby Dick. He should be in the water enjoying his summer, but he can't, not when she's there, looking even more beautiful than he remembers ever seeing her. She's wearing a flowery bikini, her skin looking darker thanks to the sun.

When this summer started, Regulus never thought he would be in a situation like this; when Sirius told him he had invited a friend to spend the holiday with them at their summer manor in the South of France, he never thought he would end up falling for her. She was the loveliest from the moment she entered their house, even making his usually stern parents smile and comment about how Sirius had finally found a friend worth their time. It was hard not loving her sweet voice and laughter, the smell of her hair while she flung it over her shoulder, talking animatedly with his cousin Juliette, easy to make friends when they arrived at the holiday manor. He never thought he would have a chance with a woman so bright she could face the sun and still shine more, not him, not his gloomy face and grey eyes. But he was wrong about that again, and only a week into the summer, Regulus found himself kissing the woman of his dreams.

They had been drinking outside, near the lake, where they were swimming now. Regulus had gotten up to find more drinks when she, always the enthusiastic helper, offered to help him carry them back. Unsure how it happened, they were kissing in the wine cellar. Her body pushed against a wall, her legs around his waist, her finger tangled in his hair. Regulus thought it had all been a dream when he woke up with a killer headache. It became clear it wasn't when she tentatively pressed a hand to his back and gave him a knowing smile during breakfast, the kind that holds a secret only they share.

The next few weeks were spent sneaking around, tasting each other and enjoying furtive glances and touches. That was until Regulus decided she couldn't like a guy like him, not when she had Sirius around, the extrovert, the funny and witty brother. Why would she choose him over Sirius when he was everything his brother wasn't? Introverted, quiet, nose always stuck in a book, never able to defend himself or speak his mind, always afraid about what he could do wrong. That's why he has spent the last week making up excuses, looking the other way when her eyes tried to find his.

Giving up on distracting himself with his book, he closes it and gets up. Quick steps guide him inside the kitchen where house elves are busy prepping for dinner; out of the corner of his eye, he sees a basket full of ripe peaches and quickly grabs two, taking them upstairs to his room.

Tossing the book on his bed, he grabs the bottom of his flowy linen shirt and places a peach on his nightstand. He takes it off, allowing the cloth to fall to the floor. He lays down and starts taking the pit out of the peach in his hand. The sweet juice runs down his fingers all the way to his wrist; he manages to lick them up before the dops reach the bedding. Regulus grabs his book once more and becomes determined to get the girl out of his mind. He opens it on the marked page and aggressively chomps down on the peach.

After rereading the same line over ten times and finishing his peach, he accepts defeat. Closing the book, he places it on his nightstand and lays back, looking at the ceiling like it is about to give him the answer to stop his despair. He thought he had a chance, he really did, but that was just plain wishful thinking. He had seen himself as lucky all those times she had allowed him a taste of her lips or allowed him in her bed. But of course, it was just a distraction for her, so she wouldn't have to face Sirius' escapees alone. He knew it was all too good to be true. His brother was always the desired; he was the oldest, the more handsome, the charismatic and witty. He was still the same brother that had invited her and then left her alone with his family to meet his multiple summer affairs, leaving her to try and console herself with always-number-two Regulus.

He blames himself for even thinking that her touches were ever directed at him. Even if they were on his skin, he knows that in her mind there was only one man, and it wasn't him. All her kisses, caresses, moans and whispers weren't for him.

Groaning, Regulus looks down at the tent that formed in his summer shorts. Which had been happening a lot more often; whenever he remembers her and their endeavours. His hand had started failing him as well, no longer giving him enough pleasure. But after feeling how soft, wet and warm her cunt was all summer, it isn't a surprise. Another sight leaves his lips when he reaches for the forgotten peach by his bedside. Closing his eyes, he rolls the peach between his fingers. The soft skin reminds him of her, extra soft, after applying sunscreen all summer.

Regulus opens his eyes slightly, focusing his sight on the peach in his hands. His index finger starts gently caressing where the stem used to be, softly feeling the curves of the fruit. His breathing becomes slightly ragged as his thoughts continue to flow. No, he can't do that; it would be weird. Shaking his head, he stabs the top of the peach with his thumb, juices falling all over his chest and abdomen. He is quick to gather them with his fingers and lick them clean. He finally gets the pit out and sucks on it, getting as much of the flesh as he can, then he rolls it between his fingers and chucks it across the room, still upset at his thoughts.

Regulus hitches himself higher up, allowing his back to rest on the pillows. Tentatively, he brings the peach into his mouth, sucking the flesh exposed in the hole he left after taking the pit out. He nibbles and lets his tongue roam around the hole, closing his eyes and throwing his head back, only one thing on his mind. He can't help but compare her to the fruit, sweet and soft, juices wetting his lips and face as he explores it with his mouth.

He opens his eyes, knowing that he has lost the battle with his thoughts. Regulus lets one of his hands tread slowly down his body to the button of his shorts; his other brings the fruit into his underwear. Regulus bites back a moan, letting air out his nose, and pushes into the hole. He lets his eyes close again, feeling the sensations; how wet it is, how if he squishes it just a little bit, it feels like her cunt fluttering around him. Her face is clear behind his closed lids, mouth slightly open with pleasure, no noises coming out of her with how much he was making her feel. It doesn't take much more than that image to release, his semen filling the fruit in his hand.

Disgusted with his actions, he quickly places the peach on his nightstand. He casts a quick glance as his cum drips in a long, slow drop down one side and turns his back to it, ready to forget about what he has done.

Hours later, the bright sun is much duller coming in through the window. Soft steps pad through his bedroom floor until they reach the edge of his bed. A smile touches her lips as she watches Regulus lie asleep on his sheets, slack jaw, eyelashes fluttering as he dreams. She sits on the mattress, careful not to wake him up and laces her finger to his soft curls. She bends over, letting her lips place kisses all over Regulus' naked chest.

His eyes flutter open, dazed, as he watches her kiss down his abdomen, all the way to his unbuttoned shorts. Her hand reaches down, pulling his semi-hard dick out and placing it in her mouth. He sighs and looks as her face scrunches up in shock.

"What did you do?"

That is enough to fully wake him up, realising this is not a dream and she is currently inside his room sucking him off.

"Nothing." His all-too-fast answer is enough to make her look around his room, not taking long to find the peach on his nightstand.

"Oh, wow..." she says as she reaches over him for the fruit.

"Stop." Regulus sits up and tries to get it out of her grasp.

"What? No, this is very interesting." A grin takes over her face as she chuckles.

"It's nasty."

"Yes, it is." Her smile grows. She sticks her tongue out, trying to get the drop that fell off the side.

"Stop, don't do that." Regulus tries to take the fruit away again, but she quickly avoids his hand. "Seriously, stop." His hand misses hers a third time, and she tries to lick his cum off the peach again. "Just stop, please." A sob escapes his body suddenly, tears start streaming down his face.

"Reggie, what...?" Her words get lost as he bends over her, hiding his face on her lap. "What's wrong?" Her fingers tangle on his hair again, helping her concerned voice.

"I'm sorry, I'm..." He raises his head and wipes furiously at his eyes. "I'm sorry."

"No, no, I'm sorry." She lets the peach down on his other nightstand, the closest to her. "I didn't mean to upset you. I was only joking." Her concerned eyes look for his.

"I know. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to cry." His eyes refuse to meet hers.

"Reggie, what's wrong?"

"Nothing, don't worry." He sniffs and tries to get up. She grabs his wrist, making him look at her, a surprised expression on his face.

"Something is clearly wrong. Talk to me." Her gentle voice makes tears prick his eyes again. He lays back down, letting his arm cover his eyes so she cannot see them.

"I just,... I don't know." She lays down, placing her head on his shoulder, humming, letting him know he can continue. "I..., why are we doing this?"

"Doing what?"

"Kissing, making out, having sex." His arm falls down, and he stares at his ceiling once again, refusing to look at the woman on his shoulder whose eyes are boring into his face.

"You don't like it?" She whispers, voice unsure.

"I do, but do you?"

"Of course I do. I wouldn't do it if I didn't." That makes him turn his face to her.

"Do you just like the sex?" The commissures of his lips go down, threatening new tears. "Because I'm sure you can find sex somewhere else."

"What?" Her eyes search into his, hoping they will give her an answer.

"If what you enjoy is the sex, I'm sure you can find someone that is not your crush's little brother to give it to you." His voice turns slightly venomous at his words. He can't believe she is making him spell it out for her. He had enough humiliation as it is; allowing her in, thinking that he was enough for her, only to realize Sirius was the one she wanted and couldn't have.

"Wait, wow, wow, wow." She sits up, her arms moving defensively in front of her. "What are you talking about?"

His brow furrows, and he sits up on the bed as well. "You have a crush on Sirius."

"Ew, what the fuck?" She makes a disgusted expression. "Who the fuck told you that?"

"I, hm... no one?"

"Why do you think I like Sirius?"

"Because... everyone does." He looks as confused as her, not understanding her disgust and shock at the revelation.

"Who the fuck is everyone? Reggie, why would I have sex with you if I wanted Sirius?" Her frown deepens.

His mouth relaxes open, confused sound spill out while his eyes look around the room, trying to find an answer. She doesn't...? But all those looks she sent Sirius' way, they coy smiles and jokes between them. They had to be more, hadn't they? "I..., you're not having sex with me because Sirius isn't interested?"

Her mouth gapes open. "What? No." The disgust returns to her features. "I mean, I love your brother, he's one of my best friends, but he is the sluttiest man on Earth. I'd only have to ask him, and he'd be dropping his pants in a second."

Unsure eyes look at her.

"Reggie," She says softly, her hands cupping his cheeks. "I like you, not just the sex, not just the kisses. You. I like you." His eyes shine with tears as he looks at her, looking for a hint of a lie.

"I just came inside a peach." Is all he can muster out after a moment of silence. Her laughter erupts in his ears.

"Yeah, you did." She finally says in between giggles. "It was sexy." More laughter leaves her, and he smiles, unable to stop himself from how happy she sounds.

"It was?"

"Yeah," She finally breathes. "It made you taste sweet." Her fingers dance on his thigh, making their way up his stomach. She caresses where the juices from the peach fell, where she had been kissing him moments ago.

"Oh..."

"Oh indeed." She looks at him with a rueful smile. "I didn't mean to make you cry."

"I know." His hand grabs her, stopping her caresses, and he brings it to his mouth, placing a kiss on her palm.

"You know, normally, when someone confesses their feeling for you is polite to let them know if you feel the same way or not." She says, her voice tentative.

His eyes widen, and he looks up at her, her hand still over his lips. "I like you, yes, of course, I do." His rushed words make her smile. "I'm sorry, I'm not good at feelings."

Her other hand reaches his cheek. "It's okay. We'll learn; together. I just need you to talk to me, please." His hand cups the one on his cheek. "I knew something was weird this past week, but you didn't talk to me."

"I know. I'm sorry. I tend to get in my head and not talk with people when I think something is wrong."

"Just promise you'll talk to me next time, no matter what it is." Her sad eyes are all he needs to kiss her.

"I promise." He breathes once they break apart. His hands make their way from her cheeks to her waist. "I'm sorry." Is all he whispers while he lays her down, their lips locked.

"Reggie." She breaks the kiss as her head hits the mattress. "I'd love to, but I came up here to tell you dinner is ready, and you need to come down." His forehead touches hers.

"You were the one that started blowing me."

"Oops?" His stern eyes look into hers, making her giggle. "We can do whatever you want after dinner, I promise."

"You'll finish what you started?"

"Only if you do the peach thing again." He groans, his head going back and then falling on her shoulder.

"You're never going to let me forget that, are you?"

"Nope." She over-exaggerates the pop sound and softly pushes him off her. "Come on, put your shirt on. I don't want your parents sending anyone to check on us."

Reaching the bottom of the stairs and walking past the archway, they walk into the dining room, where everyone is waiting for them.

"Look who finally decided to join us." Leon's words are accentuated by his french accent.

"Sorry." Regulus quickly apologises, sitting down on one of the free chairs. He reaches for his glass of water as a house elve starts pilling food on his plate.

"Is everything okay?" Orion asks as he sips his wine.

"Yeah, you guys took so long to come downstairs." Sirius pipes up.

"All is peachy." Her cheery voice makes Regulus choke on his sip of water. Eyes look at him as he tries not to cough out a lung. "He fell asleep, took me a bit to get him up."

"Oh, you're still cranky when you wake up, Reg." Manon's teasing voice says.

"Yes, I guess." His cheeks are red as he prays nobody has realized the actual situation. Regulus' eyes have a glint in them, one that she recognises. She grins at him, fully knowing she's in for a lot tonight.

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assortedseaglass · 5 months

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🌟Mistletoe | Yuletide🌟

Michael Gavey x Fem!Reader

Summary: Michael's Christmas plans are scuppered, but a chance encounter lifts his hopes for the New Year.

Content: Fluff, Language.

Yuletide Masterlist

December 15th. The night of the Catton Christmas party in Brasenose College. Term ended a week ago, but the prospect of partying with the university’s hottest boy and his gaggle of gorgeous followers was too delicious to pass up. Freshers to third-years clamoured to rub shoulders with the prime ministers and business men of tomorrow. Any way to get your foot in the door, and maybe some Christmas action too.

The single-pane windows of the old college dorm room rattled to the beat of NOW XMAS, and each time the door opened a pair of drunk undergrads tumbled into the quadrangle.

The latest two, a straw-haired girl in a Juicy Couture tracksuit and a burly boy wearing a rugby polo, stumbled from the old double doors leading to the common room. On their way, between sloppy kiss and over the top giggles, they bumped into a solitary figure.

“Sorry, mate,” the drunk boy said, watching the other young man through alcohol-heavy eyes. The girl beside him eyed the stranger and snorted. “Merry Christmas.”

Hands tucked into his pockets, scarf wrapped neatly around his neck, Michael Gavey stumbled. The pair got no reply, only a cold glance of annoyance as he made for his dorm.

Gold, string-light bulbs decorated Brasenose quadrangle, tacky Christmas trees were perched in various student windows, and the saccharine chorus of Band Aid 20 was shouted from the common room.

Michael didn’t hate Christmas. He quite enjoyed the fuss from his aunties and the jumpers his grandmother bought him. His mum snuck extra roasties onto his plate and his dad made a point to buy him each year’s Telegraph Quiz Book. This year would surely be even better. The pride on his family’s faces, each asking about his first term at Oxford. First one in his family to go to university and he gets into Oxford.

It was precisely because he liked Christmas that this one was so miserable. Michael was neither surprised nor upset when he checked his pigeonhole that morning to see no invitation to the Catton Christmas part. Him and Oliver. A pair of nobodies.

He took the new Nokia his dad got him for his A Levels out of his pocket. No texts. Punching the numbered keys, he sent one to Oliver.

Back at BC. Mince pies and port ready.

The corridor to his dorm room was empty. With the turn of his key, he opened the door. The room was cold. The ancient radiator was ticking into life and the old windows were beginning to fog with condensation. On top of his stack of maths textbooks a bottle of unopened port gleamed.

Turning on his bedside lamp, Michael gathered two dusty glasses his mother insisted he pack with him, and from his Tesco bag produced a pack of mince pies. He placed them on a paper plate and emptied the rest of the carrier bag (wallet, keys, pencil case, workbook) next to the E45 cream and battered copy of GH Hardy’s biography.

The Nokia buzzed aggressively on the table. Removing his scarf, Michael checked the screen. It was from Oliver. He unlocked the phone and checked the small envelope icon.

Something’s come up, sorry.

Michael slumped on the bed. His thumb hovered over the keypad.

Get a better offer, did you?

He deleted the text, locked the screen and threw it on the cheap duvet.

The others would still be at the pub. He could just go back and meet them there. Could, were it not for his pride. It just wasn’t the same, a group of people forced together, as opposed to those who found each other.

The pub was full of his fellow mathematics students. Spotty, eager to please and reeking of desperation to prove themselves. Michael didn’t need to. He watched as they fought for Professor Mathison’s attention, keen to discuss tutorial projects and career prospects. Mathison was already keenly aware of Michael, judging by the way his jaw dropped when Michael recited the Lagrangian form to the last letter.

With Oliver it was different. They were two outsiders, making their way in a world entirely foreign to their own, their intellect their only way in. Now it seemed the friendship Michael was working so hard to cultivate with Oliver was slipping away.

He stared at the empty glasses. Fuck it. Pouring a little too much port in one of the glasses, Michael stuffed a mince pie into his mouth, grabbed another and made for the door.

The air was crisp, but mild for mid-December. The music of the Catton party across the quadrangle had mellowed, and through the misty windows Michael could make out shapes dancing close together, swaying slowly.

A pang of jealousy twisted in his naval and he twitched awkwardly. He wondered what it would be like, having another body pressed against his. Or rather, to have someone want to be that close to him. His mind flashed to the French girl in tutorial. She’d pressed her leg against his at the pub when Mathison mentioned a partnered project for the new year, and when he’d looked down, he saw her fingers brushing the cuff of his jumper. He’d flinched away.

Everyone was doing it. Quick flings with no regard for consequence. He supposed he could do it too. With the French girl, or the girl with agoraphobia. Lord knows, she was getting as much action as he was. But there was something in his studious nature, his desire for knowledge, that meant he had to be consumed by knowing someone fully, or nothing at all.

Perching his bony bottom on the cold concrete step under an old brick archway, Michael took a gulp of port and began on the mince pie. He took the top off, ate it, and thought of his grandfather, and how he would add brandy butter before replacing the pastry cover. He ate the rest quickly and sipped his port slowly, thinking over the last term. The successes; far and away the best student on the course, and the failures; one (?) friend. It was as he did this that the door behind him opened.

“Shit, sorry! Didn’t see you there!” You hadn’t done anything wrong. Not opened the door on his back or tripped over him. Michael waved his hand noncommittally and without answer. “Do you mind if I sit with you?”

He looked up at this. An old grey coat at least a size too big was wrapped around you, a scarf pulled up to your nose and muffling your voice. Michael couldn’t make much of you out, just the eyes peering down at him from above the scarf, but he could tell you were beaming at him. Why?

He gestured to the cold step. You sat beside him, gave him a bright smile that didn’t falter when he stared at you a little too long, and turned to look at the night beyond the small archway.

“Pretty, aren’t they? All the lights?” Michael didn’t respond. He shifted his body slightly away from yours and took another sip of port. You weren’t deterred. “You a Billy-no-mates too then?”

“It’s Norman-no-mates-”

“I don’t think it matters.” You cut him off. “Well?”

Michael turned his face to you. You were still watching the lights but sensed him looking at you. In turn, you looked back at him, unabashed and direct.

“I might have mates waiting inside.”

“You might, but you don’t. You’re out here drinking wine,”

“Port.”

“Port’s just fortified wine. Drinking on your own when everyone’s off partying.”

Michael didn’t blink as he watched you. You weren’t being cruel by making him feel bad for his social ineptitude. Nor were you prying into what it was that made him so deplorable to seemingly everyone in college. No. You were just stating the facts. Michael loved facts.

“NFI.”

“Snap.” You held out your hand and gave him your name. Michael’s heart didn’t leap, but it did give a strange sort of jolt.

“Michael Gavey.” He shook yours and his mouth twitched when you gave him a firm smile.

“What about you? Why are you sitting on a cold step with a stranger?”

“Mate’s back there screaming at her fella cos he necked some girl in Exeter after a Hooch too many.”

“Let me guess, Business Management?”

“The very same.”

There was a contented silence a while. Michael sipped his port and watched you from the corner of his eye. The fingerless gloves you wore were fraying a little. Everything looked second hand. From your slightly battered Mary Janes and baggy jeans to the bag by your feet. Even the scarf still wrapped around your neck. The hair there was bunching under the fabric and a few wisps kept sticking to your lip gloss. Too pretty to be sitting with him, and too rough around the edges to be the usual Catton-fodder.

Michael licked his lips. “What are you reading?” Please be something good.

“Computer Sciences.” Merry fucking Christmas. “You?”

“Maths.”

“Ah, we could have done with you at the pub quiz! ‘How many birds in total are there in the twelve days o-’”

“One-hundred and eighty-four.” Michael rattled off as though the answer was a grocery list. You stared at him, an impressed smile playing at the corner of your mouth. Michael’s heart vaulted that time. He wanted more.

“Ask me anything. I can do any sum.”

You eyed him with barely supressed glee. “Twelve times thirty-one.”

“Three-hundred and seventy-two. Come on, ask me something harder.”

“Three-hundred and seventy-two times eight.”

“Harder.”

“Times twenty-three?”

“Harder.”

You almost shouted with excitement. “Three-hundred and seventy-two times forty-seven!”

“Seventeen-thousand, four hundred and eighty-four.”

You giggled and let out a low whistle. “Fuck me,”

Yes please.

A broad flush spread across Michael’s cheeks and he licked his lips again. “I can also-”

“Better check madam is ok,” your eyes indicated behind you as you took you phone from your pocket. The white light from the small screen was garish amongst the soft golds of the Christmas lights, and Michael’s heart sank as he watched you scroll through your contacts list. So many names. He’d give anything to be among.

He didn’t pay attention to anything you were saying as you chatted to your friend. The shine of your lip gloss beneath the fairy lights was too mesmerising. Michael raised his port glass to his lips, took a sip and let the glass linger there as you ended your call. He was entranced.

“Love you, mate. Alright, chat tomorrow.” You sighed as you hung up and looked at Michael. “Home for me, I think.”

As you stood, Michael did too, pulling his trousers up and tucking his hands into his pockets. “Nice to meet you, Michael.” You shook his free hand again and took the port from the other. He watched, agog, as you downed it in one. “Graham’s? Very nice.” You passed him the empty glass and began making your way to the end of the archway. He followed you like a shadow.

At the end of the passageway into the old quadrangle you turned to face him. “What are you doing for Christmas, Michael?”

“Home,” his voice was unnaturally high and he coughed. “Home, to see family but not much else.”

“And new year?”

“Seeing some boring old school friends then back here before term st-starts-starts,” you were leaning towards him. With no hint of shyness, and perhaps a little too forcefully, you kissed him. You pulled back, smiling.

“What was that for?” The surprise of your lips on his made him shout, and it sounded more hysterical than genuine shock and curiosity.

“Mistletoe,” you stated simply, pointing at the small poesy hanging from the archway.

Michael coughed. “Of course, yeah. Thank you.” He made an odd movement and almost clicked his heels. You laughed again, turning into the dark night.

“See you in the new year, Michael.” Your voice echoed off the old stone walls. Just as Michael expected, you sounded so certain. In all your ten minutes of knowing each other, he’d learned that about you. The statement wasn’t speculation or conjecture. It was a fact. Michael loved facts.

Merry Christmas everyone! I hope it's been a kind and calm one. H x

The usual suspects: @arcielee @targaryenrealnessdarling @theoneeyedprince @ewanmitchellcrumbs @ellrond @cyeco13 @babyblue711 @exitpursuedbyavulcan @humanpurposes @myfandomprompts @barbieaemond @anjelicawrites

#ewan mitchell #michael gavey #michael gavey x reader #ewan mitchell x reader #mistletoe #saltburn #OI SALTBURN PEEPS #if you're fed up with the lack of oliver and felix fanfic #write your own and leave us to thirst over the nerd in peace #merry christmas!#hilde's twelve days of christmas

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mandos-mind-trick · 1 year

Text

00:00 (Zero O'Clock)

Summary: On the run from your family, you meet your soulmate after he's sent to retrieve you. Can he offer you what you've been yearning for since your mark first appeared? Or will he turn out to be just like everyone else in your life?

Loosely based on the BTS song of the same name.

Pairing: Hunter x reader Soulmate AU

Warnings: NSFW, smut, unprotected sex, fingering, some brief mention of kink related things, brief mention of a knife kink, canon typical violence, some semi-descriptive mentions of abuse and child abuse, some angst, lots of fluff, as usual reader has a backstory for plot.

A/N: I'm trying a bit of a new format with this one, at least as to how the story progresses. I'm not sure about the beginning, but let me know what you think.

MASTERLIST

Five Minutes.

Your legs are aching almost as much as your lungs, but you don’t stop.

You can’t stop.

Tree roots and vines threaten to trip you with every step, but you push onwards. Get to town. You just have to get to town and you can stop.

Three minutes.

The timer on your wrist is like some twisted countdown. When it appeared over ten years ago, you were confused. Your soulmate couldn’t be that much younger than you. You had thought perhaps they were a different species, one that matures faster than others.

Ten years, forty-seven days, six hours, and fifteen minutes.

That had been the number seared onto your skin one day, the numbers slowly counting down as time went on. You tried to mark the exact day on the calendar, but it was difficult. You went off galactic standard time, as your countdown seemed to match how the hours and days passed for you.

You daydreamed constantly about your soulmate. You researched species after species, trying to find any sort of answer you could as to why your soulmate mark had shown up so late.

It wasn’t until the war when things began making sense.

It wasn’t until the war that things began falling apart for you.

The sudden appearance of the clone army, millions upon millions of beings created over the ten years before the war started, answered many people’s questions. Millions upon millions of beings in the galaxy that had lived for years without a soulmate link suddenly having theirs appear in the last ten years.

Your soulmate’s a clone.

Your father was not pleased.

Your home planet was not part of the Republic. It had always been independent, and once the war started, the governing body decided to side with the Separatists. Your father was a loyal supporter of this decision, funneling your family’s vast wealth and resources to aiding the Confederacy of Independent Systems.

You thought the entire war was stupid. Why couldn’t people just be happy with being either part of the Republic or not?

The first time you spoke out against it in front of your father, he dragged you from the room and beat you with his belt.

The second time you spoke out against it, at a dinner with several important political figures including your grandfather, he beat you right there in the dining hall.

When he discovered your soulmate timer, it got worse.

He tried everything he could to remove it.

You knew it was useless. Even cutting the skin off with a knife, the mark would only appear again as it healed. Burns, scars, even chopping the limb off wouldn’t work. It would simply appear elsewhere.

Your father thankfully never went that far.

Your hatred towards him only deepened as time went on.

News of your grandfather’s death reaches you shortly before the end of the war. You don’t cry. You barely knew him, and what you knew of him was that he was equally as cruel as your father.

As the war ends, so does the Republic.

Shortly after, the Empire is on your doorstep demanding allegiance. They get it, and the occupation begins.

Six months later, you run away.

You run and keep running. A month later, the bounty hunters begin appearing. You evade them easily enough, and when you can’t evade them, you make sure they can’t follow you.

It’s been almost a year since the war ended. Your timer is still steadily counting down. Your soulmate is still alive somewhere. You debate trying to find them, but you know finding clones means getting close to the Empire. You know nothing good would come from getting caught by the Empire. Even worse, they might return you home.

Two minutes.

Your feet hit solid ground, relieved to be free of the damp mud you had been running through for the past ten minutes. You race into town, hoping to lose him.

He had appeared an hour ago, your little shack that had been offering you reprieve his target. He’s here for you, sent by the Empire or your father, you’re not sure. Either way, you’re not keen to find out.

You were gone long before he reached your abandoned hut. You had headed towards town, hoping to reach the spaceport and convince someone to take you to their next stop before he even noticed you weren’t in the hut anymore.

Except it was a long trek to town, and this wasn’t a normal bounty hunter.

The first shot had narrowly missed you.

A warning.

You had taken off running, zig-zagging through trees as fast as you could. The shots had followed right behind you until they had died out, leaving nothing but the sound of the jungle, and your own heavy breathing.

He’s right behind you. You know he is. You should have run for it from the start.

You desperately need to stop. You need air, your lungs beginning to spasm painfully. You’re not going to get much farther without a reprieve. You hope you can lose him in the evening crowd, ducking into an alley.

You press your back against the wall, putting a hand to your wheezing chest. Your eyes screw shut for a moment, urging air back into your lungs. Your legs are trembling like they may give out under you, but you know you don’t have long. He’s probably already in town. You need to stay ahead of him. Pray you can catch someone leaving at the spaceport and escape.

One minute.

Your soulmate is about to appear. Maybe they’ll help you get out of this mess. You can’t reach the spaceport in that short amount of time. You glance at both ends of the alley. There’s no one. So who-

A hand wraps around your throat, slamming your back against the wall behind you. Your hand is quick to grab your knife, aiming it for the throat, but his hand wraps around your wrist, stopping it.

“Give up, kid.” He drawls, tightening his grip around your wrist until you’re forced to drop the knife. “You’re not going to win this.”

You struggle against his hold, even though you know he’s right.

30 seconds.

Just thirty more seconds. You can fight that long.

You drive your knee up into his stomach, but he doesn’t release you. His grip tightens around your throat, black dots beginning to form in your vision. You drive your fist into his elbow, his arm bending awkwardly. His fingers slip from your throat and you inhale sharply, your vision swimming for a moment.

“Let her go.”

You both look up in shock at the voice. Modulated by a familiar looking helmet, grey with an orange stripe down the middle. He’s standing at the entry to the alley, blaster drawn and pointed at the bounty hunter.

“She’s my quarry.” The bounty hunter says, hand dropping to his own blaster. “I found her first.”

You quickly duck, covering your head as the shots ring out. Your gaze is drawn down to your timer, eyes widening a bit.

00:00:00:00:00

This is your soulmate?

You push yourself back up, glancing at the body of the bounty hunter for a moment before your gaze falls on the clone. His armor is pieced together, lacking the normal consistency you associated with clones and their armor. Had you been wrong? Is he not a clone after all?

“It’s you.” You whisper, dropping the knife from your hand.

“Give up the fight, kid.” He says, voice distorted by his helmet, blaster trained on you now.

You make a face. “I’m not a kid. I’m older than you.” You press your back against the wall. “When I pictured us meeting, this wasn’t what I had in mind.”

He tilts his head, and you can picture the confusion on his face. You hold up your arm, revealing your soulmate timer now at zero. He lowers his head slightly, looking at it. He glances down at his own arm for a moment before lowering his blaster. You watch him fiddle with his vambrace, tugging it down with his sleeve enough to reveal tanned skin underneath. He’s quiet, staring down at his skin for a few moments.

You could run. You could use his distraction to try and escape.

You don’t want to. You had been destined to meet at this moment. Since your creation, maybe even before.

Maybe he can help you.

But he was sent after you.

He wouldn’t really return you to your father, would he? You had heard about clones being forced to reject their soulmates under the Republic. Was the Empire enforcing that too? He wouldn’t...would he?

Your legs are shaking still, your body exhausted from running for so long. Always on edge, always watching your back. You slip down the wall, sitting on the ground. You stare up at him, finding him watching you. “Are you with the Empire?” You ask.

“No.” He says, straightening up a bit. “We were sent after you by a third party.��

“Oh.” You say, nodding. “Are you...going to take me back to my father?”

He stares at you quietly for a long time. This was going to complicate things for both of you. Would he still return you to your father, even now knowing you’re his soulmate? Did you try to run, leave behind your soulmate to try and save yourself? You know it’s only going to get harder to be apart from here. Now that you’ve met, the longing will start, the need to be close.

That’s why the Republic wanted clones to reject their soulmates. Not even the best programming can undo the natural need to be close to one’s soulmate.

“I’ve caught her.” He speaks into his comm. “Get back to the ship and meet us at the spaceport.”

“You should just reject me now.” You say, and he looks at you again. You wish you could see his face, read his expressions. “Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do? At least, that’s what the Republic wanted.” You shrug. “It’ll hurt less for you later when my father decides to kill me.”

“Why would he go through all this trouble to get you back if he’s just going to kill you?” He asks, stepping closer.

You snort. “You don’t know anything about me, do you?”

“You’re a runaway rich kid, and your father is willing to pay a lot to get you back.” He says, wrapping a hand around your arm. He hauls you to your feet far too easily, spinning you so you’re pressed against the wall.

“Moving a bit fast, aren’t we?” You quip, his hands gripping your wrists behind you.

“Can it, kid.” He grunts, cuffing your arms behind your back.

“I’m not a kid.” You huff, tugging against his hold, but you quickly give in.

This wasn’t what you were expecting when you pictured meeting your soulmate. Of course, you’d spent most of the war hearing nothing but propaganda against the Republic and the clone army, so you really didn’t know what to expect. They’re not quite the mindless soldiers like you’d been told, at least that’s what you’d discern since this group was apparently working independently of the Empire.

“You’re making a mistake.” You say as he takes your arm, tugging you towards the end of the alley.

“I’m sure you see it that way.” He says, leading you onward.

You plant your feet, trying to get him to look at you. “No, I’m trying to warn you. If you actually bothered to look into who I am, you never would have taken this job in the first place.”

He finally stops, turning to look at you. “Why do you care?”

“You’re deserters, aren’t you? I’ve only heard propaganda, and seen clones in passing once, but I do know most of them are loyal to the Empire now. Most of them aren’t out here playing mercenary and bounty hunter. You received coordinates for a place to drop me off, right? Somewhere in the D’Astan sector? You know what that sector looks like right now? It’s crawling with Imperial troops and ships. The war had barely ended and they were already invading. I ran because my father is a cruel man who spent my whole life beating me to submission. He’s a weak man who can’t stand things not being in his control. The Empire has completely taken over and I’m one of the few things he has left he can control. I don’t want that.”

He stares at you for a while. You know he’s thinking over your words. He won’t trust you, not completely. If you can just get to him a little, though, you may be able to save your own skin, and maybe his as well.

“You’re my soulmate.” It feels unreal saying those words. You’d pictured it a thousand times, and yet, none of them had come close. “If nothing else, trust me on that basis. I know you’ve been told your whole life to reject me. I don’t want you to.”

He stares at you for a moment longer before turning, tugging you along as he makes his way towards the starport. Tears prick your vision. You have no idea what he’s thinking, what he’s feeling. For all you know, he doesn’t believe you and he’ll take the risk returning you to your father.

He has no reason to trust you.

For all you know, he’s going to reject you.

If that’s the case, though, why hasn’t he done it yet?

“Can I at least know your name?” You ask softly, looking up at him.

He stays silent, walking you into the starport. Thankfully it’s late enough that it's not very busy. This looks bad, it looks really bad for you.

“Hunter!”

Of all things a child runs towards you two.

“We were getting worried.” The child says as Hunter leads you towards an Omicron-class ship.

He leads you up the steps, three more clones inside. Well, at least you think they’re clones. None of them quite look the same, at least size and height-wise. One is lankier and is wearing goggles, the other is a giant of a man, and the third has a cybernetic arm and legs.

Hunter pushes you down into one of the seats rather roughly, pointing his finger in your face. “Don’t move.” He says threateningly, leaving you sitting there.

It’s not like you have much of a choice. There’s not much room to move anyway, as the large one and the child join you. The ship rumbles as it comes to life, forcing you to press back into the seat as it lifts off the ground. Your arms are pressed uncomfortably behind you, hands going numb as the cuffs cut off circulation.

Your stomach churns with the familiar jump to hyperspace, Hunter not returning until the ship is well on its way to most likely your drop off point. You’re nervous, not just for yourself. Hunter must not have believed you. You’re sad for them, and yourself.

The large one pulls off his helmet with a sigh. Though he’s very large, his face is unmistakably that of a clone’s. They really must have been hired by a third party. Your father never would have stooped that low. He’s in for one hell of a surprise when they show up to hand you off.

Your gaze is pulled away from the big one as Hunter enters the hull, removing his own helmet. He doesn’t look like you expect a clone to. His hair is long, held back by a red bandana. He has the rugged face of a clone, but the left half is covered in a skull tattoo. It’s intimidating, just like his gaze as it burns into you.

The one with the cybernetics follows him, his helmet removed as well. He’s paler and gaunter than the others, a headset wrapped around his head. He takes a seat at the computer, typing rapidly.

“If what you said is true, we can’t risk turning you in.” Hunter says.

“Why would I lie to you?” You ask, though you already know the answer.

“To save your own skin.” He says. “I believe you, that you were running for a reason. But that could be any reason. Not just the story you told me.”

“Then by all means.” You say, trying to get comfortable with your hands behind your back. “Research away.”

It’s quiet for a few moments, part of the screen visible over their heads from where you’re sitting. You are telling the truth to them. You have no reason to lie. Especially not to your soulmate.

“You’re a Separatist?” Cybernetics asks you.

You roll your eyes. “You know, just because someone lived on a Separatist planet doesn't mean they were Separatists too. I hated them. I thought the war was stupid. Why couldn’t they just be happy not being part of the Republic and the Republic just leave them alone?”

“I think it was a bit more complex than that.” Hunter says.

You roll your eyes again. “Well, it’s not like I was ever getting the truth there. We were fed Separatist propaganda for years, even before the war started.”

The ship goes quiet again, broken only by the sound of Cybernetics typing at the computer.

"She's telling the truth." He finally says, breaking the quiet. "Imperial files have that whole sector listed under their control.”

“We can’t risk revealing ourselves.” Hunter says. “But we need those credits.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes once more. “If you bothered to check my bag, you’d see I have plenty of credits in there.”

Their eyes fall to where your bag has been placed on the chair behind them. Hunter opens your bag, digging through until he finds the box of credits. He opens it, looking inside.

“That’s far more than we’ll get from Cid for this job.” Cybernetics says.

“You can have them.” You say. “It’s my dad’s money anyway. I took what he had on hand before I left.”

“You’d just let us take this.” Hunter asks speculatively.

“If it means saving both our skins and keeping me from having to see my father ever again, then yes. You can have my whole bag, if you’d like.”

Hunter stares down at the credits for a moment before heading into the cockpit once more.

“Hey, Cybernetics.” You call before he can follow Hunter.

“My name’s Echo.” He says with a frown, obviously offended by your nickname.

“Okay, how was I supposed to know that? It’s not like you’ve been very hospitable.” You shrug as he disappears into the cockpit too. You nearly jump out of your skin as you turn, finding the child standing next to you. “Oh my, you’re a sneaky little thing.”

“Sorry.” She laughs. “My name’s Omega. That’s Wrecker.” The giant clone waves.

You nod back, your arms still cuffed behind your back. “Hello.”

Hunter reappears, coming to stand in front of you. “If you’re tricking us in any way, I will not hesitate to shoot you.”

“If you knew the things my dad did to me growing up, the things he would do to me if he ever got his hands on me again, you wouldn’t hesitate to trust me when I say I want absolutely nothing to do with him or the Empire.” You stare into his eyes as he kneels in front of you. “He’s a horrible man and he can waste all of his money and resources looking for me for all I care.”

Hunter undoes your cuffs, and you rub your sore wrists. “We’ll drop you off on the next inhabited planet we can find.”

You frown. “So that’s it? We’re not even going to talk about it?”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” He says, turning his back to you as he sits at the computer.

“Like hell there isn’t. If you’re that dead set, then just reject me now and get it over with so we can both move on with our lives.”

“I can’t trust you.” He says over his shoulder.

“I’m not asking you to trust me.” Your voice wavers a bit. “I’m asking you to talk to me. Either talk to me, or just reject me and get it over with.”

***

The ship is quiet as it floats aimlessly through space. You gaze out the viewport at the thousands of stars in front of you. Hunter is in the seat across from you, his seat turned to face yours.

“I have to protect them.” He says. “If anything happens to them...”

“I know.” You nod, turning to look at him. “They’re lucky to have you. All my life I’ve been wishing for someone to care that much about me. Someone who would protect me. My mother was always too scared he’d turn on her if she said anything. It wasn’t long after the war started that I figured it out, that my soulmate was a clone. My father wasn’t happy about it. He tried everything he could to remove my timer. It never worked.”

Hunter tenses a bit at your words. It feels good, talking about it finally. Even if he did decide nothing was to come of your link, it still felt good to tell someone about what had happened to you. You’ve never had that chance before.

“I never thought much about my link.” Hunter says, turning his gaze out the viewport. “I couldn’t. The Kaminoans created the rules about seeking out soulmates and the Republic agreed. I didn’t have time, anyway. We were always moving, always on a mission. I hoped the war would end before the timer reached zero. I’m not sure I could have rejected my soulmate. Most of the clones ignored those rules. They kept their links, secretly keeping contact with their soulmates.” He shakes his head. “I figured it would happen when it happened. I didn’t think it would be like this.”

“What, that you’d desert the army and wind up bounty hunting your soulmate who was a Separatist?”

“Something like that.” A smile tugs at the corner of his lips.

“Where do we go from here, Hunter?” You ask, turning to look at him. You take in his profile. The skull tattoo, the slope of his nose, the line of his jaw. He’s handsome. Ruggedly handsome. Not totally what you would consider your type, but perhaps the link to him was more than just looks.

You’d been raised with the idea of becoming someone’s trophy. You’d never hold power in your own family. You’d be someone’s pretty little wife who served drinks and made babies and made her husband look good. You’d marry someone just like your father who would beat you with a belt if you spoke out in opposition against him.

Then your mark had shown up, and with it came the idea of something else. Something more. Something different.

Hunter is different.

So very different.

He turns to look at you, his eyes studying your face. “What is it you want?”

You smile, leaning back in the seat. “I want to live on a farm on a small planet with kind people that care about each other. I want to care for animals and to play in the dirt. I want a house that’s just the right size. I want to be happy and safe away from politics and war and my family.” You stare into his eyes, deep into the rich depths of them. “I want to be happy with my soulmate.”

***

You lay in bed, staring out the open window. The cool morning air is blowing in, rustling the curtains. The sun is just starting to rise, painting the sky in yellows and oranges. It’s quiet, the only noise the occasional bird song as the world begins to wake up. It’ll be warm today, the perfect time for you to finish planting your garden for the season.

An arm wraps around your waist, warm lips pressing kisses to your exposed neck. You smile, leaning back against the broad chest.

“Morning.” You murmur, biting your lip as his stubble tickles the sensitive skin.

He murmurs his greeting against your neck, his hand trailing up your bare side.

“We have to get Omega up for school soon.” You say, his lips working on sucking a mark onto the skin under your ear. “And we should take that milk into town.” His hand slides higher, cupping one of your breasts. “And we need to get the guest room ready for when Crosshair arrives.”

Hunter hums in your ear, pulling you tighter against his chest. You can feel him, hard against your lower back. “Worry about that later. Right now, I need to make love to my wife.”

It’s been nearly two years since that fateful day your soulmate hunted you down during your escape from your father.

Not long after, you had found this place. It was almost exactly what you had imagined, what you had told Hunter you wanted. It had felt too good to be true, at least until you began to settle in. It took some adjusting for the others as well, but they eventually found their places.

Echo decided to leave with Rex, feeling it was the right choice. You know it hurt the others to let him go, but you felt if he was happier fighting with the rebellion, then he should. You still see them occasionally when they drop by for a quick rest.

During one of those rests, they had brought a new figure into the house. They had stumbled across Crosshair being held at a facility and had rescued him. That had been a big adjustment, as he dealt with a lot of trauma from his time being controlled by the Empire.

Eventually he healed, and he grew bored. Echo and Rex offered him a place with them, helping them, but he decided on a different route.

He became a bounty hunter.

He still stopped by every so often, spending a few days on the farm before he’d leave, heading out to catch more quarries and get more credits.

Wrecker and Tech settled into farm life nicely. You had worried Tech might work himself to a coma as he spent endless hours learning everything he could about the planet, its flora and fauna, its weather patterns and seasons, the native cultures. He’d set up the house to best utilize the weather and natural phenomena, picked the best crops to grow and which animals would be the easiest to keep. Wrecker was more than thrilled to help with the actual farm work, tending to the animals and the more heavy-lifting aspects that came with it.

Omega settled in best of all, making friends in the nearby town and starting school. Hunter’s happy in this domestic life. You can tell just looking at him. He had shared similar dreams with you, settling down on a remote planet so that Omega can just be a kid while she still can. A place that’s safe, far from the reach of the Empire.

It’s been quiet since you landed here. You haven’t seen or heard anything from the Empire or even a bounty hunter. You had all been a bit on edge at first, waiting for the inevitable arrival.

It never came.

You’ve been safe, you’ve all been safe, for the first time ever.

Marrying Hunter had been an easy decision. There was no legal benefit in it, since he was a clone and you had left your family and its name and its standing behind you. You had done it mostly because you wanted to. Adopting Omega had been the natural next step, of course. It hadn’t been a legal adoption, again for obvious reasons, but it still felt good to put a name to it all.

You’ve built a new family, one you actually want.

One you actually love.

Hunter turns your body just slightly, his hand trailing up to your jaw. He cups it gently, looking down at your face.

“What?” You ask, your cheeks flushing just a bit. Two years and you still feel a bit sheepish under his gaze.

“You’re just so beautiful.” He says, leaning down to kiss you.

“You say that all the time.” You murmur against his lips.

“Because it’s true.” He murmurs back, deepening the kiss.

You press your body back against him, touching as much of him as you can. He’s softened a bit in two years, you’ve noticed. With the constant strain of fighting and continuous missions behind them, they’ve all softened a bit. Farm work is hard, but not nearly as demanding as what they had spent their entire lives doing. He’s still just as strong, but the hard ridges of muscle are gone, leaving soft edges in their wake.

That, and finally getting some real food in them has helped.

You like him no matter what, but you prefer his soft body. It means he’s well rested and well fed. Something he deserves after everything.

His lips trail down your neck and shoulders, his deft fingers sliding from your jaw down your body, pausing just to pluck at one of your nipples playfully. You gasp quietly, reaching back to tangle a hand in his hair.

You’ve had plenty of time to learn each other’s bodies over the years. Your first time together had been rushed and desperate in the fresher on the Marauder. It had been a result of the yearning, the need deep within your souls, your very beings, to be linked together. To be as close as you possibly can to each other. It had been awkward fumbling in a too-small space.

Once you’d found your home, you both finally had space and privacy to take your time. Testing, trying, playing. A few times you’d allowed his knives in bed, and once you’d reenacted your first meeting, except that time ended with you being fucked handcuffed against a tree on the edge of your property.

Most of all, though, you enjoyed the quiet moments like this one. The gentle lovemaking on lazy mornings, the quick moments when you can slip away from your responsibilities. The nights when he gets that look in his eye during dinner and you know you’re going to end up tangled in the sheets, moaning his name.

Twelve years ago you never would have thought this could be real.

Two years ago you never thought this could be real.

Fate is hardly ever wrong.

You gasp quietly as his fingers slip between your thighs, finding your slick folds. He licks and nips at your skin, leaving a trail of marks no doubt. He has said more than once he loves your scent and the taste of your skin. It had taken some adjusting to his enhanced senses knowing he could hear and smell everything, and he has a habit of smelling and tasting everything.

His hand grips your thigh, draping it over his waist. His fingers slip through your folds again, gathering your slick on his fingers before he presses one into you. You’re already wet, anticipating a rather satisfying morning. He runs his thumb over your clit and you jolt a bit, still sensitive from the night before.

You moan quietly, tugging lightly on his hair. He groans in response, breath fanning across your ear. His scalp is sensitive. You’re able to reduce him to shivers by just raking your nails across it.

He slips a second finger into you, his pace lazy and slow as you writhe in his arms. You can cum easily just from his fingers, something he’s rather proud of. To you, it’s a testament of just how perfect you are for each other.

You know he wants you to cum on his cock this morning, yet you can’t help but whine as he pulls his fingers from you. He shushes you, shifting you ever so slightly before the head of his cock slips along your folds. You moan, walls clamping in anticipation. You’ll never get tired of him, of his body, of how perfectly it fits against yours. How perfectly it fits inside yours.

He slides in, in one go, pausing for a moment once he’s seated fully inside you. His arms wrap around you, holding you as close to him as he can. You can still feel it like the first time you had sex, the bond between you. The link tying you together. The energy thrumming through you and into him, and then back like a circle.

It’s something unexplainable. Something precious and unique and it fills you with warmth every time you think about it.

“Hunter,” You whisper, walls clamping around him.

He shushes you, lacing your fingers together. “I’ve got you.”

He begins to move, slow and steady. Your eyes drift closed, savoring the feel of him, the drag of his hips, the stretch of his cock. The softness of him around you. You feel safe in his arms, like nothing can hurt you, nothing can touch you. Nothing can ruin this moment.

You’re not going to last long, his fingers slipping between your thighs to circle your clit once more. Your legs shake, walls gripping him like your body is trying to hold onto this moment forever.

You cum quickly with a quiet cry of his name, his own thrusts getting sloppy as he moans quietly in your ear. He stills as he reaches his own release, his groans vibrating through your back.

You lay there for a moment, clinging to each other, basking in the early morning glow. Neither of you have the will to move, wanting to stay like this forever.

Alas, that’s not possible as a loud crash is heard from downstairs followed by Omegas giggles and Wrecker’s rather loud apologies.

“The kids are awake.” He murmurs, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

“Yes, it seems they are.” You say, a smile tugging at your lips.

“We should get up before they destroy the kitchen again.”

“Agreed.” You say, reluctantly pulling away from him.

You both dress, preparing to start another busy day. Hunter pauses by the door, leaning down to kiss you softly.

“I love you.” He says, practically beaming down at you.

You smile, tracing your fingers over his cheek. “I love you too.”

And you mean it.

Taglist:

@stressed-cherry, @6oceansofmoons, @ladytano420, @spicy-clones, @kaminocasey

#star wars #star wars fic #the bad batch #the bad batch fic #soulmate au #clones #tbb hunter x reader #bad batch hunter x reader

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charlesslut16 · 6 months

Text

-Christmas shopping-

summary : you and max go shopping fo your shared, united, family...

PAIRING : max verstappen x fem!reader

WARNINGS : none

note : i hope you like this... And i love this cute pic of max as a baby

december masterlist ; masterlist

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Max Verstappen and his wife, you, were relishing a rare break from the whirlwind of Formula 1. The winter streets of their Dutch hometown were adorned with twinkling lights, festive melodies floated through the air, and the scent of mulled wine and cinnamon wafted around them.

Your mission today was simple yet joyous: to gather gifts for your little nieces and nephews, their parents, and each other. With a list in hand and hearts brimming with holiday cheer, you set off on foot, preferring to immerse yourselves in the cozy atmosphere rather than rush through the shopping spree.

Your first stop was a quaint toy store that sparkled with enchantment. Max's eyes lit up as he spotted miniature race cars lined up neatly on the shelves. He chuckled, imagining the delight on the children's faces. You, with your infectious laughter, gravitated toward a shelf of stuffed animals.

You picked up a fluffy bunny, envisioning her youngest niece cuddling it on Christmas morning.

As you strolled along, the chilly December breeze played with your scarf, and Max teased you about wrapping up like you were heading to the Arctic.

They laughed, their breath forming misty clouds in the crisp air.

Passing by a confectionery, you couldn't resist popping in to select boxes of chocolates and candies, knowing they would be perfect stocking stuffers.

Your next destination was a boutique for your family. You wanted to find something elegant for your mom and a thoughtful gift for your dad. Max, being the attentive partner he was, suggested a beautiful necklace he knew your mom had admired once.

For your dad, max found a vintage watch that resonated with his love for classic craftsmanship.

As the both of you moved through the streets, the spirit of giving seemed to infuse every moment. You encountered a street market bustling with local artisans, showcasing handmade crafts and artisanal goods.

Max and his wife, you, delighted in picking out handmade ornaments for their own Christmas tree and unique, handcrafted items for their siblings.

The afternoon sun began to wane, casting a golden glow over the town. Max and you stopped by a cozy café, sipping hot cocoa as you admired their purchases. You exchanged anecdotes, reminiscing about past holidays and your own childhood Christmas memories.

Your final stop was a bookstore where Max indulged in selecting adventurous tales for his nephews while you carefully picked out illustrated storybooks for her nieces.

You both knew the power of a good story and were excited to share these magical worlds with the children you adored.

Loaded with bags brimming with carefully chosen gifts, the both of them made their way back home, the sky now adorned with stars.

Walking hand in hand, you felt the warmth of the holiday season enveloping you. Their hearts were full, not just from the treasures you held, but from the shared moments of laughter, love, and togetherness—a true reflection of the spirit of Christmas.

#f1 #formula 1 #formula one #f1 fluff #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen one shot #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen blurb #max verstappen x you #christmas #masterlist

359 notes · View notes

mew-ya · 7 months

Text

hello everyone! i'm proud to share my halloween-themed fic for raven's (@swampstew) event, where writers all incorporated a costume + a character into a fic! at the end of the month on October 29th, there will be a vote to see who wins the costume contest! check out the other fics and get ready to vote when the time comes!

character: Charlotte Katakuri

warnings/notes: no warnings (SFW fic), so fluffy it hurts, non-gendered reader, gender neutral reader, reader is average human sized

length: 4,016 words

summary: Your employer, Charlotte Cracker, Minister of Biscuits, gives you a last-minute invite to the Charlotte family's yearly Halloween party. As a newer resident of Totto Land, you'd not yet been to one of the Charlotte family's reputed parties, so your curiosity led you to the foot of Whole Cake Island on the night of Halloween.

You’d heard the Charlotte family threw a party for every occasion. And based on your arrival at the foot of the great Whole Cake Island, Halloween was certainly no exception. Hosted by Big Mom herself, every candied and frosted structure was painstakingly decorated by Streusen and his team of chefs. The cakes lining the horizon were decorated in the colors black, orange, red. Creepily smiling bats, balloons in deep red, and cotton candy clouds of a deep blue filled the darkening sky, contrasted brightly against the orange sunset. Fake blood oozed from the frosted fences lining the cracker-laden paths that led you to the delicious town of Sweet City. The singing, dancing homies you’d grown accustomed to seeing were eerily silent, silence a rare and disturbing thing in the archipelago you’d come to reside in. You spotted a few homies who took the shape of gravestones, attracted by the only sound in the whole area beyond the plodding footsteps of other partygoers. The gravestone homies sang a dark dirge as they sullenly watched a shovel homie dig up a fresh grave. Even the juice river had been dyed red to look like blood, deep red reflecting on the horrible grins of the trees peering from the edge of the Seducing Woods.

Having once glimpsed the true darkness of Totto Land, you couldn’t help but wonder if its morbid, Halloween-themed makeover was the truest reflection of its nature. Memories flashed back to your initial arrival to the archipelago. You watched the man in front of you die as Big Mom’s Incarnation swiped the final months of his life as payment for his residency. Vivid memories of him collapsing to the floor with a final breath danced in your brain, followed by the hollow smile of the creature with its white glowing eyes. The creature you’d come to pay twice a year for your ability to live here.

You shuddered at the thought, shaking away the uncomfortable memories. You’d lived here for about 3 months, happily, but saw the hints of darkness creeping behind the picturesque frame of the candy-encrusted landscape…

Inside Whole Cake Chateau, the highest of extravagance was on full display. The smell as you stepped inside the massive cake building was perhaps the most memorable—powerful, luscious notes of candy corn, lollipops, gumdrops, marshmallow, chocolate all tickled your nose in unison yet each distinct. The large buffet table to your right was a mountain of confections modeled after zombie parts, skeletons, bat wings. The serving dishes were massive and well-stocked, an army of chefs and rook knights replacing every calorie taken from the table with finesse and speed. To your center, a red velvet chocolate fountain so large that it rivaled an Olympic swimming pool. Guests dotted every corner of the ballroom to your left, dressed from head-to-toe in expensive costumes of classic horror creatures, characters from the latest trends, jokes, and other displays of amazement and fantasy.

You recognized some of the partygoers, primarily from your work as a baker in the cracker bakery housed on Biscuits Island. Visitors from across the entire archipelago came to your workplace to place orders for customized cracker flooring—the area’s edible replacement for tile flooring. While most often you’d seen the Charlotte family’s aides and assistants placing orders at your workplace, some of them preferred to complete the work themselves. Charlotte Katakuri was one of them—an ominous figure he painted against the colorful showroom, tall, dark and quiet. But his attention to detail and patience with ordering the perfect set of cracker floors for each of his projects made you come to realize that there was more than meets the eye with him. He was a figure that intrigued you more than you’d care to admit, but you’d only ever seen him in a work setting. He was a person that you looked forward to seeing, though you held your feelings about him deep within—he seemed too perfect, too unobtainable.

Until today. The most extravagantly dressed you recognized as members of the Charlotte family, who were both the children of the land’s queen as well as its appointed politicians. Charlotte Smoothie stood out immediately, tall as ever, effervescent in a red and blue princely outfit, epaulets encrusted with rhinestones and a beautifully detailed sword laying at her hip, her hair in a low ponytail like a fairytale prince. Charlotte Compote was next to her in a vampiress costume, signature bowl hat filled with a deep red liquid like blood, hair adorned in a slick black wig, fangs poking from red lips, and a beautiful blood red gown, and they appeared to be discussing the décor in detail. Young children in a rainbow assortment of costumes swarmed around their feet, and given their appearances, you could only assume those were younger Charlotte children as they ran in circles at Compote’s feet. From a distance, you spotted a tall figure dressed as Frankenstein’s Monster chatting with a woman dressed as the Bride of Frankenstein, though most of their outfits were obscured by the crowd.

As you approached Compote, another regular of your cracker establishment, you heard Smoothie call out: “Katakuri!” and the Frankenstein’s Monster turned his head. You immediately saw that Katakuri’s skin was painted a pale green that made his pink hair, irises, and tattoo pop in contrast. Steel bolts were attached to each side of his head, and his mouth was covered, as usual, by a scarf, although this one was tattered and worn to fit the outfit. Before she could say anymore, Katakuri was there, crouching down and saying something to the children with a gentle, yet stern look in the eyes peering above his tattered scarf. The way they stopped and listened to him so intently was telling of their respect for him—could these be his own children? Ah, well. After he spoke to them, they became quiet and orderly, walking single file towards the pink candy spiral staircase leading up to the second floor. The woman dressed as his bride showed up behind him, cooing, “Oh Katakuri—you’re always so good with them.” With a nod of acknowledgement, he stood back up silently, and noticed you standing 15 feet from them, staring directly at him. He looked at you up and down, and blinked.

“You’re the one from Cracker’s bakery,” he uttered at you with the gentlest hint of a furrow in his brow. The woman dressed as Frankenstein’s Bride next to him grimaced, the wrinkles in her face scrunching to her brow as she failed to hide her frustration. You felt an ounce of hostility from her, and wondered if she had somehow noticed your fascination with Katakuri…

You nodded coyly in response and approached the group of large individuals, but before you could try to politely continue the conversation, you felt a smack on the flat of your back. A large figure leaned in next to you, grin penetrating a hole in the side of your face. “You made it! I’m so glad,” Cracker exclaimed a little too loudly in your ear.

Smoothie groaned, “speak of the devil…” and Cracker gave her a smirk as he acknowledged his siblings standing before him in a circle on the ballroom floor. You noticed Cracker wore a bordering childish lion costume with a mane created from craft paper. Compared to the other costumes, it didn’t make sense to you until you saw him later on in the evening next to the rest of the Wizard of Oz cast…Mont-d’Or in a scarecrow costume, Moscato in a tin man costume, and Poire in an adorable and well-crafted Dorothy costume. You had learned their names because they all stood together in a line to be judged at the costume contest you watched later in the evening.

The siblings bantered around you, discussing each others’ outfits, nearly forgetting you standing there, small in stature and already quiet to begin with. You craned your neck to follow the conversation going on in the air above you.

It struck you as a bit odd that Cracker invited you, one of many employees of his, to this party. There was no one else from your workplace you recognized. On top of that, the Charlotte family all in a single room was a party entirely on its own, without any need for additional guests. This party appeared to be much the same, thick with Charlotte blood, common folk mostly appearing in (Halloween-themed) serving garb, some friends and in-laws dotted between the unusual shapes and sizes of the Charlottes.

You mostly enjoyed yourself throughout the party, learning everyone’s names and becoming more familiar with Cracker’s close siblings. The woman Katakuri was with was named Brulee, though you spent most of the night averting your eyes from them, feeling awkward for having ever had a crush on him. Of course he had a wife, or a girlfriend, or whoever she was.

Instead, you paid attention to the costume contest put on by Perosperos and Charlotte Linlin. The contest’s comically large scroll full of rules that’d been penned throughout the years of their lives together as siblings was read through at the very beginning like a very boring educational speech. Poire explained to you that it basically boiled down to: “make your costume yourself, don’t use devil fruits, and anyone discovered cheating on either of those rules would be banned from participating in the costume contest forever.” After learning that, your eyes opened to the absolute craftsmanship of this family’s dedicated costumers. Even the worst costumes such as Cracker’s childish lion seemed less bad after considering the amount of work he had spent at a craft table, hot gluing whiskers to his hand-sewn furry hood.

You had come wearing a mummy costume, but it was store bought and nothing special. Just something cobbled together last minute in preparation for the party, so you had no reason to enter the contest.

There was no real prize beyond the ability to brag—but bragging rights were an incredibly important prize to the Charlottes, and doubly so when a party was involved. Even a cool woman such as Smoothie was swayed by its power, giving her all to craft the most beautifully detailed prince costume this year in the hopes of winning. A teenaged girl named Flampe was swarmed with chess knights all dressed up in the theme of her costume: a musician with all of her adoring fans. You weren’t really sure what popstar she was supposed to be—her skin was painted like a skeleton, hair curled densely, a large crown upon her head, heart shaped sunglasses resting on her head with an orange feather boa around her shoulders. She held a green guitar shaped like a shark that she never actually tried to play. Given how nearly everyone in the room watched her entrance and participation on the stage, you guessed it was someone famous.

Later on in the event, you noted that Katakuri and Brulee joined as a team with their matching Frankenstein and Bride of Frankenstein outfits. You wouldn’t have pegged Katakuri as the type to want bragging rights for anything, but the crowd’s response to them was incredible—for Katakuri in particular. Oven noticed your surprise. He leaned down to you and explained, “he’s been voted the most popular brother, after all. He’s cool, perfect, and utterly undefeated in battle.”

In the end, the costume contest voting boiled down into a popularity contest, as things so often do within the family’s politics. Charlotte Linlin, dressed in the most expensive and extravagant Queen costume, sat at the large chair behind the judge’s table and laughed her signature “mama-mama” when she counted the results. Flampe’s skeleton musician-themed group was the winner and she accepted the honor with the smallest amount of grace, followed by Katakuri and Brulee’s Frankenstein pair in second.

The party came to a close, its music dying down, the youngest children all retired to bed or gone home. You’d been invited upstairs into one of the many candy-rococo rooms in the upper echelons of the Whole Cake Chateau by Cracker, and sat on the floor with a grouping of older Charlottes and friends sitting in a circle, all laughing and chatting. Katakuri and the woman he was with were there.

You’d chosen dare. A bottle was spun in the middle of the group. Whoever it landed on would be the second player of 7 Minutes in Heaven—a game typically played by hormone-ridden teens looking to make out in a closet. But you were adults, joking around. You’d been recruited as the first player in a game of 7 Minutes in Heaven, which made you feel a bit uncomfortable—this was a party your boss invited you to, after all. You weren't usually a dare person either, but you’d never gotten to play spin the bottle growing up, so you figured why not. The gentle haze of an alcoholic beverage helped, too.

The bottle stopped. Of all the people in the circle, it pointed at Charlotte Katakuri. Brulee looked uncomfortable, but didn’t say anything—why would a married couple play this game? You thought to yourself. But in the single night you knew him, Perosperos was the one making up the rules, and he was a stickler for those. You decided not to protest. Maybe you’d stand silently in the closet for 7 minutes with the perfectly terrifying Katakuri as he gazed down upon you in the darkness.

Words were exchanged, and you were both sent to the closet for 7 minutes of heaven.

You entered the dark closet, shuffling in and out of a multitude of large dresses belonging to Charlotte Linlin, the fabric nearly engulfing you. The door shut behind you both, and a voice rang out, “timer starts now! Don’t get too naughty, you two!” followed by Brulee’s audible groan.

You heard Katakuri audibly gulp above you. The feelings of shock and nervousness had blinded you to his expressions, so now that you were smashed together in the dark, you had absolutely no read on him whatsoever.

So you quietly asked, “Katakuri…?”

“Yes,” he answered.

“Why did you—aren’t you married? Isn’t this weird?” but you were interrupted by a large gloved hand on your shoulder, sending a wave of nervousness in a whirlwind through your body.

“I am not married,” he responded, simply.

You gulped, biting your lip.

“But, Brulee…?” you responded in your head, but the words didn’t come out. Somehow, he heard you anyway.

“Brulee is my sister. She likes scary movies a lot, so we dressed up for the contest.” He changed the subject. “I think your costume is nice,” he gestured, withdrawing his hand on your shoulder to touch the fabric with a respectful tap of his finger, unable to point in the darkness.

“Wait, then whose kids were—well...Okay. Thank you,” and you laughed a little as you went along with him. “If you’re wondering, I didn’t make it. The mummy wraps came pre-stained.”

“Oh?”

“I didn’t know you guys had all these rules. Hell, I didn’t even know there was a contest. I just grabbed something from one of the shops last minute. You did such a great job on your costume, I feel embarrassed for you to even have to look at me! Cracker didn’t even tell me about this party until the day before.”

Katakuri sighed. “Sorry.”

“What’re you apologizing for?”

“He invited you because of me.”

You didn’t understand what he meant. Katakuri continued.

“I…mentioned you once...” That revelation piqued your interest. He talked about you? Why?

Katakuri shifted his weight from one foot to another, causing some of the dresses around you to move. “Because I thought you were…cute.” The words choked out of him, you could almost feel the heat of his blushing cheeks radiating from above you as he spoke. He cleared his throat.

“Let’s talk about something else.”

An awkward silence filled the closet—he’d stunned you twice in a row, first with the truth about his relationship status, and second, that he’d requited your attraction. What to do?

Katakuri cleared his throat again, uncomfortable and trapped in a closet with his head nearly touching the ceiling, stuffed awkwardly against the shelf with the person he’d just admitted he liked. You wanted to respect his request to drop the subject, so you didn’t push it.

Following his earlier lead, you offered a compliment. “I like your costume too.” You lightly touched the thick canvas fabric of his baggy pants where they tucked into his heavy platform boots, outlining a patch stitched with wide embroidery thread. “You really made all this yourself?”

The leg under your hand shifted in its pants as Katakuri kneeled before you, pushing Big Mom’s hanging clothes surrounding you out of the way by sheer size of his frame. A protective arm rested on the floor next to you, and he uttered, “Yes. The rules are very explicit. You can incorporate basic, store-bought items such as shirts, pants, but they must be modified in some tangible way.”

“Is it okay if I touch?” you asked, not wanting to be too presumptuous. You continued, “I didn’t have much of a chance to look at your costume too closely, but it must be good if you won second place.”

“I worked hard on it, but I am not sure it was deserving of second place. You’re welcome to touch it.” The air felt less thick between you as the awkwardness simmered into a cool comfort.

You explored the details of his costume in the darkness, your hands small against the 16’ man’s frame. The large arm resting on the ground next to you was adorned in the sleeve of a thick blazer, artificially weathered by his own hands, its threads exposed and rough with rips and tears near the seams. Thickly woven patches were sewn into his entire suit using embroidery thread. The blazer was opened at the center to reveal his shirtless chest, and although you couldn’t feel it, you remembered how his skin had been carefully painted green around the pink tattoos, and how the juxtaposition of those two colors created such a bright and engaging contrast on his skin.

“Did you sew the patches with a machine? The detailing feels so even,” you asked as you felt the perfectly squared stitching, betraying the imperfect nature of the Frankenstein Monster.

“I sewed all of the modifications by hand, though the jacket and pants were something I had already owned. Have a couple of injuries on my fingers to prove it.” Katakuri replied as he twisted his wrist, opening his palm next to you.

“You? Injuries? One of your brothers told me you were undefeated. To think you’d been bested by a needle and thread…” Reaching down to his hand, you ran yours against his palm to the ends of his fingertips. He let out the lightest flinch when your hand pressed against a small needle injury at the end of his pointer finger.

“How the mighty fall,” he answered with a spark of amusement.

Resolving not to waste this private moment, he made a move.

Katakuri wrapped his hand around yours, and with the softest motion, pulled you in towards his body as he leaned his head down. You were close enough to him to feel the warmth radiating from his core. You swore you smelled a hint of fried dough. The ruggedly tattered scarf wrapped around his lower face tickled your skin as electricity grew between you and the seconds stretched into what felt like minutes. You were so close that you felt his breath on your nose, but the scarf stayed put as a barrier between you. You looked into the eyes you couldn’t see in the darkness, and yearned for the touch of his lips against yours.

Both yourself and Katakuri imagined the feel of each others’ lips pressed against skin, the taste, the touch, the smell—although you had no idea what his mouth looked like. He always covered it, so your imagination ran wild in the dark. You kissed the scarred and torn lips of the face you imagined in your head, then you kissed a mouth with sharp teeth so pointed that your own lips were cut in the process. Maybe he had big cute buck teeth under there that stuck through a pair of swollen lips. You kissed that too. Your imagination ran through the possibilities like a rolodex, and each was good, wonderous, and electric.

Meanwhile, Katakuri’s rolodex of imagined scenarios was not so idyllic. He imagined the multitude of ways in which you’d reject him, how you’d take his scarf from him and embarrass him, how you’d reveal the secret of his mouth to the entire world, painting a target on the backs of all his siblings. He remembered all of his past relationship failures, and most of all, he remembered the great bloody wound across his sister Brulee’s face as he stood there powerlessly. He froze.

The hesitation began to hang thick in the air like a fog, and you were nearly able to feel the discomfort circulating from his body. You weren’t sure what changed. Time had been dilating and you wondered how much longer the 7 minutes would last.

You took your chance.

You grasped his hand which held yours so gently but stiffly, and pulled it close enough to plant a sweet kiss upon the top of his painted knuckle. Underneath your lips, his body notably relaxed. The gesture brought him back to reality.

Katakuri’s eyes glinted with the color of the future, where he saw the moment the door opened to light, just moments away. In a flash, he pulled your hand through his scarf to his lips and returned the kiss so quickly that you could hardly process what might be under there by feel. He then stood straight up and gave you both a once over that lasted no more than a single second, any hair or mummy wrapping out of place put in its proper configuration by the quickest swipe of his finger. As if nothing had happened.

The door opened.

His siblings joked, poked, prodded, and laughed at what they thought may or may not had happened between the two of you. He spent the rest of the night avoiding your eyes, as if nothing had happened. Eventually, his siblings dropped the subject. Deep down, they were rooting for Katakuri—most of the older Charlotte children had already been married, through virtue (or iniquity) of arranged marriage. But perhaps the strongest and most perfect Charlotte, intentionally held from the world of political marriage, would be allowed to pick his own partner.

The party moved on. Other games were played, other topics broached, other siblings bullied and jested and the family was having a great time. Katakuri thought he’d gotten away with keeping up his perfect illusion that he’d kept his distance during the closet game, but sometime later, his eyes widened at you like plates, face turning red under his scarf, burning through the green face paint. He observed his hand and saw a hardly noticeable kiss mark on his knuckle. It’s already too late, he thought to himself.

Seconds later, Cracker’s burst of laughter turned the entire room to your face.

“Hold on, hold on! Your lips are GREEN!”

“GREEN?!”

“What did those two get up to…?”

“Katakuri! You DOG!”

Brulee looked concerned and attempted to play interference by standing between you and Katakuri to block the line of sight. She’d grown to be very protective of him, knowing that his hidden heart was kind and undeserving of the expectations those had thrust upon him. While she knew he was truly not the perfect being the world had decided him to be, she would do anything to help him protect that because it is what he had chose.

Despite Brulee getting in the center of it, the chatter raged on, the rumors spread, and you gained some kind of reputation. Your eyes met Katakuri’s as he leaned over Brulee to look at you. You furrowed your brows at each other.

The start of a beautiful relationship…

#charlotte katakuri x reader #multiple other charlotte family members appear as well!#one piece x reader #charlotte katakuri #katakuri #buggy's spooktacular special #mew writes

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cautuscoralcoast · 2 months

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A spark In Darkness : "There once was a rabbit..."

Rayne Ames x Reader

Synopsis - lost in thought and confusion, Rayne has a nightmare about his past. With a perfect family with two loving parents and an adorable younger brother, there was nothing more Rayne could wish for: Until their world was trampled on.

This world is unkind to little children like them. This world is unforgiving to children like you. However, even through all the pain and torture, they still found a spark of light in the darkness.

Word Count: 3.1k

Part of "You, Me, Rabbits, and Magical Beasts" series. Click the tag to find all works in the series.

Heavy inspiration from "Rayne Ames throughout the years" on ao3!

Rayne had a dream that he was happy. He had a dream that he was at the park chasing after his beloved brother. He remembers laughing when he eventually caught his brother, and the two fell into the grass. He remembers looking up at the clear, bright, blue sky: Not a cloud in sight, nothing to hide the sun's warmth.

Rayne remembers rolling on his side and seeing their mother and father preparing lunch. Their mother rolled her eyes when she saw the grass stains on their clothes: Their father snorted when he saw Finn tackle Rayne. Though not perfect, this was their family, and it's all the imperfections that make it perfect.

"Boys! Come over and eat!"

"We'll be there soon!" Rayne called out as he watched Finn struggle to climb up on a tree. "Finn, you're too short to climb the tree."

Finn stopped jumping and turned to look at him. Puffing up his cheeks, Finn blew raspberries at Rayne. "You don't know that! I bet you can't climb it either!"

Finn leaned onto the tree trunk. Rayne felt the gentle wind caress his hair; He smelled the scent of distant rain. Not wanting to seem incapable, Rayne said, "I'm taller than you—"

Interrupting him, Finn folded his arms and pouted. "Doesn't mean you can climb it!"

"Finn, don't underestimate me." With a neutral face, Rayne began to climb the tree. Without faltering or struggle, Rayne made up the closest branch. Seeing this, Finn began to beg Rayne to help him up.

"Pull me up! I wanna be up there, too!" Finn had his arms raised up as he jumped, trying to reach Rayne.

"You'll still get hurt even if I help—"

Startled by the sound of distant thunder, Rayne began to look around. The sun remained as bright as ever; the sky still as blue as the lakes; And the sky was as clearer than it has ever been. There were no clouds, no rain, nothing to signify a storm.

Turning back to Finn, Rayne decided to just do what he wanted. Grabbing Finn's hand, Rayne pulled him up and helped him sit on one of the branches. Feeling uneasy, Rayne told Finn, "We should go eat now. Mom and Dad are probably wondering where we went."

Finn swung his feet as he gazed out beyond the grassland. There was no better place than here: "Alright! But after we eat, let's come back here and climb higher!"

Lightly chuckling at Finn's eagerness, Rayne jumped down. Finn is his little brother; there is no one else he would want as a sibling. If it was for his happiness, Rayne is willing to do anything. "Alright, but first, let me help you down."

Rayne had a nightmare where his parents were gone, and Finn was crying.

As the two siblings walked in silence; Rayne felt a droplet fall on his nose, and Finn held his hand tighter. Even as the sky and wind remained the same, the sense of impending disaster loomed over the two. There was nothing to worry about; everything looked perfect with no blemish or flaw. There was no cloud, no storm, no rain, no fog — everything is fine.

When they got to the picnic table, the food was set up: four plates, four sets of silverware, four cups, and yet it was only Rayne and Finn. Where were their parents?

Rayne felt one droplet, then two, then three, and all of a sudden, they were hit by a storm. Finn was crying; he held onto Rayne and cried. He felt as if they were being watched, and he didn't know what to do. He heard multiple footsteps coming from all around them, and yet he couldn't see a single thing. Not knowing what to do, Rayne hugged Finn and did his best to shield him from the rain.

"It'll be fine, Finn." Rayne held him tight. "So don't cry! Things will get better! I'll make sure you'll be safe. I'll take care of you and we'll be happy! You and me can get through this!"

There were no clear skies, and there was no sunlight to show them where to go. The footsteps stopped all around them. Rayne looked up for a brief moment and saw the faces of his relatives. He saw the faces of the cruel people who took them in after their parents passed: these were the faces of people who wanted to separate him from Finn. There was no one in the world who he loved more than Finn; and he wasn't about to let them take him away.

Picking Finn up, Rayne began to run. He didn't know where to go — no matter where he turned to look, the rain poured like bullets, and the wind pushed against him. Hearing footsteps again, Rayne hastily looked around. There was no one there, and yet the sound persisted under the deafening rain. There was no sun to point him to safety — no mom or dad to hold them both. All he had was Finn, and all Finn had was him.

"Rayne? Do you see that?" Finn's voice was quiet and muffled by the sound of rain and howling wind. After wiping away his tears, Finn raised his head and turned to face the direction his brother was running. Tugging on his brother's shirt, Finn pointed towards something. "There's a rabbit!"

Amidst the storm, there was a white rabbit leaving a trail of stardust as it jumped. Finn pulled on his shirt harder and yelled, "You gotta follow the rabbit! You have to!"

Having nowhere to run to, Rayne listened to his brother and chased after the glowing, white rabbit. With each and every step, the rabbit got farther and farther; with each and every jump, some of the footsteps went silent. Soon enough, the rabbit came to a halt in the middle of a clover field.

Exhausted from running, Rayne collapsed in front of the rabbit, letting go of Finn. He breathed heavily as the storm threatened to drown him. Struggling to sit up, he warily looked around to see if there was anyone chasing them. Seeing that there was no one, Rayne looked towards Finn. He watched as Finn approached the rabbit cautiously. Unmoving and without a hint of dampness in its fur, the rabbit allowed him to come close. Finn reached out towards the rabbit; the rabbit moved forward and placed its face in his hand.

Finn gently picked up the rabbit and held it close to his chest. There, in a field of clovers, rays of light peered through the storm clouds and illuminated the field. The rain eased, and the clouds began to fade away. Finn walked towards Rayne and handed him the rabbit. "Isn't it cute?"

Feeling the fur and looking into its beady eyes, Rayne felt himself relax. The rabbit ran through the rain, leaving a trail of stardust, and it still remained dry. The rabbit suddenly jumped out of his grasp and turned to look into the direction of the rising moon: When did it get so late? Rayne got up and stood next to Finn. Reaching out to hold Finn's hand, they watched as the rabbit leaped over the moon.

"It's adorable...."

Rayne didn't dream often.

The times he did, they were nightmares of his childhood: his fears manifesting in warped stories and separation. These nightmares reminded him of the cruel nature of the world and how it wanted to separate him from his younger brother. They were only children when they were forced to live out on the streets. Every single day was a struggle to survive. This world was unkind to young children like them.

Rayne was forced to leave his childhood behind and grow up for the sake of his brother; there was no one who they could rely on but themselves. There were many times they were mistreated in their foster homes. There were many times when they tried to get rid of Finn and keep him simply because he was a double liner. There were many times they roamed the streets and ate the cheapest things.

If it wasn't for the headmaster helping them, Rayne didn't know if they would survive: he didn’t know if Finn would be happy.

In the time Rayne spent at Easton, he became the youngest divine visionary. He was at the top of every single subject. With natural talent and skill, there were many who envied him. Some wanted to seem on his knees, some wanted to stand next to him, and others wished to worship him.

For the time in his life, Rayne made a friend: Max Land. Opting to focus on his studies, Rayne didn't care much for making friends. He ignored the peering eyes and invitations to pointless gatherings. There was time to fool around when he had a brother to care for and debt to pay.

Rayne never thought he would make friends with how everyone seemed to avoid him. Max Land, his roommate, tried to include Rayne in social events. However, Rayne always kept his distant. All it took was a series of events for Max and Rayne to have a proper conversation; meaning, Max gets injured, Rayne gets concerned, Max sees that maybe, just maybe, Rayne isn't so terrifying!

“Even so. I impulsively climbed that tree and sprained my ankle. I messed up and dragged you in it, too. A lot of people aren’t satisfied with you standing out so much, you know? They couldn’t say anything because your records are always, always flawless. I’m sure they’ll use this opportunity to get in your way.”

A lot of people? Not satisfied with him? People actually—

"…...a lot of people don’t like me?” Rayne never considered the fact that his peers just wouldn't like him. He knew that there would be competition and people trying to interfere with his goal of becoming divine visionary — however — he didn't expect for them to dislike him for his competence.

“Yeah…”

“I didn’t know that....."

“You really are in your own world, aren’t you.”

Anyway—

Rayne was someone who always glared, and this led to many misunderstandings between him and his classmates. So when Max finally told this to Rayne, he was shocked to think that his peers felt intimidated by him.

"Do they really think that?"

Max just looked at him in disbelief. Rayne was much more oblivious than he appeared. Rayne always carried this terrifying, cold aura that kept others from approaching the Adler prefect. To think said prefect was oblivious to the academy's perception of him.

"Yes, they do....."

So not only do people not like him, they actively avoid him because of his natural face.

But despite all that, he's glad that Max was willing to give him so many chances. Even when Rayne scorched all those attempts, Max respected his space and still treated him with kindness. Rayne didn't know when it happened; one day, Max was a stranger who happened to reside in the same dorm — and the next day, he was Rayne's best friend. Though Rayne was content being alone, having Max as a friend made life at Easton much more enjoyable. Since befriending Max, Rayne has made a few other "friends" and close acquaintances; one of the few others being you, whom he met during his third year.

He didn't even know you existed. You were nothing but a speck of color in his peripheral vision; just another classmate who was irrelevant to him. Rayne had no reason to talk to you, nor did you have a reason to bother. All it took was a little courage on your end and for the magical rabbit beasts to be afraid of him in order to intertwine your paths.

Since talking to you, Rayne noticed many things in his daily life. He realized that you shared all your classes together as well as sit quite close to each other: he questioned how he didn't notice you sooner. Besides that, Rayne began to take note of your behavior and studies.

You weren't the best at magic, but you certainly weren't the worst. However, you were so awfully at using even the most basic spells that Rayne questioned how you even passed in the first place. Not only that, but when he first tutored you, he noticed how much you struggled with reading and basic language classes.

"Do you not know how to read?"

"I do! I do! It's just that this book has so many big words and it's so — aaaaghhhhh!!!"

Rayne only bothered to help you because you helped with the animal handling portion of the zoology class. To him, you were a lost cause and only lowered the reputation of Adler. It was a miracle that you were able to stay at Easton Academy for so long.

However, once he got the hang of handling and manipulating magical beasts, he longer had the need to acquire your help — meaning he no longer had to bother helping you.

"Would you mind helping with the magic reading homework?"

Yet he still spent time in the library with you. Rayne didn't quite understand why he still tried to help you. You weren't useful to him in any way; in fact, maintaining this relationship was always at his expense. He still had his duties of divine visionary to fulfill as well as tend to his rabbits. You were more of a liability, if anything.

"If you want, I could take care of the rabbits for you while you're out. I got experience in domesticated animals as I do magical beasts. While I'm at it, I'll be more than happy to do medical checkups!"

If there was one reason Rayne could give as to why he continued to talk to you, it was because you pushed yourself into his life — intentionally or not. You seeked his help: you offered yours.

Besides, the rabbits were always happier when you came by.

"Are we friends?"

Rayne didn't understand what you meant by that question. You already spend your entire day with him and know of all his interests (to a concerning degree). However, if he had to decide whether he considered you a friend or not, the answer would be yes.

Whenever Rayne saw you, he couldn't help but think of his brother. You were just as pathetic and adorable as Finn; he wondered if that was the reason he felt so inclined to spend time with you. Depsite just that, something about you reminded him of himself. Rayne didn't know what it was specifically that reminded him. All he knows is that seeing you makes him feel protective.

"Yes,": of course you're one of his closest friends. That's why he enjoyed hearing you talk about pointless subjects. That's why he loved to see you smile when interacting with magical beasts. That's why he began to look forward to your late night studies.

This night was no different from the many other previous nights.

As it always goes, Rayne had to maintain the rabbit enclosure as well as fulfill his duties as divine visionary; you had to help the magic zoology teacher prepare the materials needed for tomorrow's lesson. That left only the early nights for your tutoring sessions.

"Do you know any folklore or fairytales about rabbits?" You asked as you began to pack your things up. You looked at Rayne doing the same as you. Remaining unresponsive, you wondered if he heard you. "Rayne? Did you hear me?"

"I did, I was just thinking about your question." Placing his bag on the table, Rayne stared intently at you. "I can't say that I know of any in particular. Did you want to hear some?"

You jumped up and said, "No, no! It's just....I was curious."

Rayne raised a brow as he saw you all flustered. ".......Curious about rabbit fairytales?"

"Of course! I haven't had books or saw any plays about those things, and I thought since you were obsessed with rabbits and were a kid once, you would know some fairytales......"

Rayne stared at you as he looked more closely: you definitely have something to tell him. "Are you sure that's it?"

You looked down at your bag and let out a huff. "No, I wanted to show you something." Reaching into your bag, you pulled out a kids picture book. "It's a book one my guardians sent me for my birthday last year. I remembered I had it and thought since you liked rabbits......maybe you would like to read it.........."

You hid your face behind the hard cover children's book. You were blushing red from embarrassment; why did you think someone as mature and respectable as him would want to read some children's book? You were an idiot—

"What is it about?"

You didn't have the luxury of owning many things in your early years in life: books were one of them. It was only late your teenage life that you were able to read these fairytales and stories. Though the Whitechapels didn't treat you as a five year old child, they did acknowledge that you never had a childhood: "Every child should have a few books." Mr. Whitechapel was insistent on this when he bought you your first picture book.

"It's about a rabbit who wants to have the moon...." You don't know why, but when you heard Rayne ask about the book, you wanted to cry. You weren't sad, nor was it out of embarrassment: you were happy. Peering over the book, you saw Rayne's face soften. "Would you like me to read it to you before we go back to the dorms?"

"That would be nice."

Going around the table, you sat next to Rayne and opened the book to the first page.

There, in Easton's library, sat two children who were forced to face the wrath of the world. One carried the burden of a parent at an age too early: the other had no other choice but to choose a life of pain and hardships over death.

Though with very little common interests and with varying personalities, these two children find comfort in eachothers company.

Like the rabbit, you longed for your moon: something you could call your own.

Like the sunlight and stardust, Rayne just wants to make sure his brother finds a safe path back home: a home where he is safe and happy.

And so, as you two sat in the giant library, you began to read the book: "There once was a rabbit who wanted to own the moon......."

Ahhh! Took me a long time to get this out, but I'm glad it's out and not still in the making!

In all seriousness, please read "Rayne through out the years" on ao3! It was a huge inspiration for me when writing this and gave me so many ideas for the future of this series. If it wasn't for NguyetMieu I don't think I would have ever continued writing this as much as I did. So please give NguyetMieu your support!

#you me rabbits and magical beasts #rayne ames #rayne ames x reader #mashle #mashle x reader #character analysis #i will always love finn more—

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katherines-imagines · 1 year

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“Don’t be a skxawng, just ask her.” Part 4

pairings: neteyam x reader

warnings: cute, fluff, bad writing

key: skxawng - moron, yawne - darling, my love, munxta - mate

summary: Neteyam tries again, this time it’s for sure going to happen, because third times the charm, right?

Another day had gone, and Neteyam had still not confessed to his yawne.

Neteyam, son of Toruk Makto, the one who was supposed to be leading next, the mighty warrior.

He had not, as his father would say, ‘manned up’ and asked her yet.

Neteyam sighed in disappointment.

Maybe his family was right, and he was a skxawng.

How pathetic, that he helped with the attacks on the sky people, and yet he couldn’t talk to a simple girl.

To an outside eye it was baffling, but to Neteyam it had made some sort of sense.

Asking to be one’s mate was an important matter. It was asking to spend the rest of your life with someone.

It was asking to share food and home with someone.

It was asking to share pains and happiness.

It was asking to forever be lovers and start a family.

Asking to take care of one another.

Asking the girl whom he loved ever since he could remember, to be his munxta, was a very serious matter, and could not be blurted out.

Sadly, every time they had a quite moment to themselves, it was always interrupted by someone.

But this time, Neteyam was determined to not be disrupted.

He had a plan, which he had thought out the previous night.

First, he was going to take you to the pond where his father had taught him to use his bow and arrow, catching the girl a bountiful hunt.

Then, he would walk her around the forest, to admire the beauty of their home.

Lastly, he would take her to the remains of the Home Tree, the place where his mother and father had mated.

It was the perfect plan.

Nothing would ruin it, not even the cruel writer of his story.

So off he went to find Y/n, the girl who his planning was all for.

But first, he had to find one Na’vi girl before.

While Neteyam searched for someone, Y/n was talking with Kiri and the Tsahik.

Kiri and Y/n were mixing medicinal herbs, while Mo’at, the Tsahik, was preparing the supplies needed for when some of the hunters came back if any were hurt.

While the women worked in silence, Kiri spoke up.

“So, you and Neteyam, huh,” she asked with a knowing smirk.

Blushing, you vigorously shook your head in denial.

“No, no, there is nothing there,” you sighed wistfully.

“Oh come on Y/n, you love Neteyam, don’t lie.”

With a pause, Y/n hesitated before starting again.

“Well, yes, I do love him, but my affections are not returned I am afraid,” the girl in love sighed looking down.

Hearing a chuckle from the older woman, the two teenagers turned towards Mo’at, who’s head was still facing what she was doing.

“Y/n, you know I am Tsahik, yes,” Mo’at asked without looking up.

Y/n responded by nodding her head.

“And you know that I have knowledge beyond your years?”

Y/n hesitantly nodded.

“Then you know that I have an eye around the village, connected fo Eywa,” Mo’at finally looked up from what she was doing to pierce her eyes through the young girl’s.

“Yes, Tsahik,” Y/n answered respectfully.

“Good, then listen,” Mo’at started.

“I have heard from Eywa since you and Neteyam have met. She has always been whispering in my ear, when I see you two. ‘Mates,’ I hear. ‘Munxta.’ She whispers such things, and I hear her plans for you two. It is strong, and by Eywa, your future together will be beautiful,” she said, all while looking at Y/n with soft eyes.

“I know you think I am some crazy old lady,” Mo’at says, standing up and walking funny, coaxing a small chuckle out of the two girls.

“But I know what I talk of, yes I do. I have been around a long time. Eywa plots for you two. Eywa herself has made you two a match, it has been told. But it cannot be done by herself. You and Neteyam must communicate.”

Listening insightfully, hope shone through her eyes, hoping it all to be true.

Hoping that it was true they were going to have a future.

True that Eywa had handmade their destiny.

True that there was a chance Neteyam could love her back.

As Y/n stared at Mo’at in awe, the elderly woman saw a glimpse of Neytiri in her. When Neytiri had too questioned about love.

“Enough talk,” the Tsahik decided.

“Back to work you too.”

Both girls nodding quickly, return to their work, both smiling, yet Y/n’s smile shone the brightest.

When they had finished with the herbs, the Tsahik had let them go for the rest of the day.

Y/n had decided that she might go find Neteyam, she started walking towards his tent, eager to tell him how she felt, when she saw something that made her heart drop.

It was Rini, daughter of the famous Ninat.

Rini followed in hee mother’s footsteps and had been the most beautiful and talented singer in the village.

Y/n had never been jealous of Rini, but seeing the girl with her Neteyam made her blood boil.

She wanted to stomp over there. She wanted to crash her lips into Neteyam’s, showing Rini that he was all hers. She wanted to hiss at Rini to back off.

But Y/n stayed put.

Neteyam wasn’t hers, and Rini was a nice girl who had done nothing unkind to her.

So Y/n just stood and clenched her fist.

Taking a deep breath, she turned around with tears in her eyes, and walked away.

Y/n was now determined to make Neteyam hers, because she’ll be damned if another girl takes her from him.

As Neteyam finished his conversation with asking about what flowers to her for Y/n, he saw Y/n walking away with what seemed to be tears in her eyes.

His stomach dropped, filled with butterflies that didn’t make him feel good.

As much as he wanted to chase her down and explain, he knew he would just vomit his love out for her, but she deserved better.

She deserved to be romanced, charmed, to have the moment he asked her to be his lovely mate be the most memorable in her life.

So he let her go, knowing that he would make it up to her and explain later.

Hopefully.

———————————————————————

A/N: Making angst now? yes, bc I’m a meanie >:) But aside from that- I have a list for those who want to be tagged in the next part, and those who want to be tagged the whole series, so lmk in the comments!! also, when I decide to finally have them confess, should I continue and have a few parts of them being together?? lmk also in comments lol. Again, the kind comments mean so so much to me and they motivate me so much!!

Hope you all are doing amazing!

-xoxo Katherine :>

tagged: @kikookii @dioraaaaaaa @mashiromochi @sloppierjewel @mommyneytiri @nanamisbigassschlong @secrettreaderr @bewbz2110 @xxannyxx @youshoulddrinkcoffee

#avatar #avatar x you #avatar the way of water #avatar way of water #atwow #avatar 2 #james cameron avatar #neteyam #neteyam sully x reader #neteyam sully imagine #neteyam x you #neteyam sully #sully family #neytiri #jake sully #neteyam x reader #neteyam x y/n #neteyam x na'vi!reader #neteyam x omaticaya!reader

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blurredcolour · 14 days

Text

In My Blood | Part One

In My Blood Masterlist

Curtis "Curt" Biddick x SOE!Female Reader

The aftermath of the Schweinfurt-Regensburg mission floods the Belgian countryside with American fliers, including one very injured Curtis Biddick. On a regular supply run to a Resistance contact, you suddenly find him sharing your regular place of shelter for the night, a simple coincidence that very well may change the course of the rest of your life.

Warnings: MAJOR canon divergence, Language, Violence, Weapons, Spy Craft, Death, Injuries, Angst, Suffering, Inevitable Historical and Military Inaccuracies, Mature/Explicit Themes - 18+ ONLY.

Author’s Note: This story contains revisionist history, read at your own risk. Reader is half-Belgian, half-English and has been given an extensive backstory and family tree. While they have been given the codename of "Marie," no physical descriptions or Y/N are used.

Italics used for non-English words and to indicate dialogue spoken in a language other than English.

This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the Apple TV+ series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

Word Count: 4200

-------------------------

August 17, 1943

Pouring from the sky like a summer rain…you had never seen so many downed airmen in one day. It seemed the American Air Force had mounted some great attack. An attack that was met with what must have been every single Luftwaffe fighter plane that now infected your native Belgian soil. The majority were captured by Nazi soldiers, Gestapo, or collaborators the moment their boots hit the ground, keen eyes following the tracks of parachutes as they floated to the ground. But the lucky ones got away, stayed hidden, or were greeted by more friendly faces.

The efforts you had been putting in over the past three months on the exfiltration routes for downed airmen in Western Europe – helping to rebuild and reshape the Pat O’Leary Line into the Françoise Line after the arrest of its former chief, connecting the Belgian-run Comet Line with monetary and equipment-based support from MI9’s agent Jerome in Paris – the timing could not have been better for the sheer demand that the events of the day would put upon them. They were as strong as they could be and yet undoubtedly these numbers would overwhelm them.

Born the only child of a Belgian Jonkheer and the second daughter of the Marquess of Abergavenny, that you would end up as an agent of the Special Operations Executive had been as foreseeable as the Nazi invasion of Belgium. Unexpected and yet altogether unsurprising given circumstance and history.

Entirely too fond of fast cars, cigarettes, gin, and learning the fascinating operations of your father’s iron factories in Wallonia for your mother’s taste, you had been forced off to England in the spring of 1939 to support your cousin Philomena Nevill during her debut. It had been hoped, you supposed, that under the watchful eye of your grandmother, the Dowager Marchioness, that your ‘good breeding’ might suddenly become apparent. That the tomboy whom her father adoringly called mon petit monstre might be transformed into a lady under the onslaught of balls, polo matches, regattas, and horse races all whilst trussed up like some prized pony at a meat market. Never mind that you were three years older than the fresh flesh of the debutantes on display.

All that had been achieved was to put you in the same rooms as the likes of Lord Halifax, Prime Minister Chamberlain, and First Lord of the Admiralty Winston Churchill. The only topic of discussion you had been interested in was the growing threat posed by Hitler with his growing Nazi empire and the fact that your parents remained in your home country right on his doorstep had weighed heavily upon you. There had been a tremendous argument in September, following the invasion of Poland and declaration of war by Britain and her allies. Your father had insisted he must remain to care for his business, his workers, his property. Your mother had insisted that she would remain to care for him. As one united front, all your relatives, including your uncle, the current Marquess, had insisted you remain in England where it was safe.

And so you had found yourself marooned on that unfamiliar island through the fall and winter of the phony war, dread heavy and sour in your stomach as military preparation took precedence over everything. With naught much else to do, you had volunteered with the Red Cross, fundraising as a member of the upper class, outspoken in your distaste for fascism. The watchful waiting came to an abrupt end on May 10, 1940, when the world awoke to the news that the Nazis had invaded the Netherlands, Luxembourg, France, and Belgium in one fell swoop.

Within eighteen days, Luxembourg, the Netherlands and Belgium had surrendered, France was on the verge, and you were orphaned. The hollow, inherited title of Jonkvrouw was all that remained of your parents after an unfortunate run in with a Stuka dive bomber on a bridge out of Brussels, so the letter from your father’s personal secretary read. The post-mark was from Marseilles, confirming that your father had sent everyone else to safety before trying to obtain the very same for himself. It had simply been too late.

Lest you fall to pieces over the loss of your home and family in such quick succession, to be caught grieving in unfamiliar formal homes amongst people you barely knew, you had sought refuge in purpose. Volunteering for the Auxiliary Territorial Service, you put your skills as a motorist to good use. Yet it never felt like enough. Driving lorries full of supplies across the English countryside while sailors and airmen risked their lives made you feel utterly impotent, particularly as the horrific bombing campaigns wore on. Mercifully, more meaningful opportunities found their way to you in the form of Vera Atkins and the SOE. Your social circles overlapped, on occasion, and she had proposed an altogether different use of your unique upbringing, for the four languages you spoke simply by virtue of traipsing across Belgium on your father’s coattails – for the country consisted of French, Dutch, and German speaking peoples and he had insisted you learn them all. While your mother had insisted you spoke only the King’s English with her.

The preliminary school had been difficult, filled with unexpected challenges and daring tasks such as crossing a rope strung between two trees high above the ground. Pure fury at the invasion of your homeland and murder of your parents had carried you through onto the paramilitary school, where you had learned how to master weapons, and hand-to-hand combat. It was then onto parachuting school, as the only way to return to now fully occupied Europe was by low-flying aircraft in the dead of night, and finally finishing school to hone your spy craft.

It was early 1943 by the time you were ready to be dropped into occupied territory, all under the auspices of a deployment to Scotland with the ATS, your extended family none the wiser as you plummeted into an empty field in Northern France to begin your work. By the time the heat of August came around you were proficient at cycling long distances with burdens of weapons and cash, sneaking across the border, making connections on both the French and Belgian side. Making one such delivery of fresh funds for the Françoise line contact brought you to the Flanders village of Beverst that warm summer day.

The small clinic of Doctor Legot, with his flat above, boasted a sizeable cellar, perfect for hosting resistance meetings or the occasional guest such as yourself. He was also a natural community figure for those from all walks of life to visit, obtaining more than just medical advice, though thus far the Gestapo had not caught wise. Letting yourself through the gate into the back garden, you concealed your bicycle amidst some conveniently overgrown shrubbery and slung your handbag over your shoulder before carrying your worn suitcase into the clinic which seemed rather empty for a Tuesday afternoon.

Greeting his receptionist Edda in Dutch, she gestured you down the hall to Dr. Legot’s office. Proceeding with a nod of thanks, you knocked on the door, quietly stepping in as he called out casually in Dutch.

“Enter!”

As you swung the door open, his head, covered in the thin remainder of caramel hair, shorn close to control its obvious curl, lifted to regard you warmly before falling serious.

“You could not have come on a better day, Marie.” He spoke solemnly, addressing you by the cover name bestowed upon you by the SOE, snapping the patient file he had been reviewing shut.

Stepping fully into the office, you quietly shut the door behind you, setting the suitcase on his desk to deliver the promised funds.

“Indeed, it seems you have been blessed with quite a few visitors today, Doctor.”

You watched silently as he carefully took stack after stack of Belgian francs, tucking them into his safe under his desk.

“More than we have places for, honestly. If you are looking for a place for the night you will have to share accommodations.”

Tight as your grip was on your facial expressions, you still felt your eyebrows twitch in surprise as Dr. Legot rarely housed downed airmen as he himself was not able to speak English and found their behaviour wildly unpredictable, at best. He was a man who preferred things neat and orderly. It was only by respecting his preferences that you had earned repeated shelter under his roof.

“I know, Marie,” he continued, obviously having caught your micro expression, “but the man is in a bad way. Brought his plane down in Maes’ orchard – a feat the boys could not stop commenting upon as they carried him in, even as the pilot was bleeding all over my floor. No one has even asked him if he wants to surrender or explained what trying to evade capture entails.”

“Hm.” You intoned thoughtfully. “Does he need a hospital?”

The middle-aged man settled his broad frame into his worn wooden desk chair with a pronounced ‘creak,’ exhaling heavily in contemplation. “Not need, no. If he chooses to run, he will need maybe two months recovery, but I can manage I suppose.”

The furrow of his brow and the pinched lines around his mouth spoke to his distinct lack of enthusiasm at the prospect, but like so many involved in resistance, his hatred for the Nazis greatly outweighed any other personal preferences after three years of occupation.

“I will give him the speech then, he ought to make an informed decision. Would you mind covering his eyes for me in case his choice is surrender?”

Relief washed across the man’s features, and he nodded quickly, grabbing a roll of bandages.

“Come down in five minutes.”

You nodded in agreement, allowing yourself those five minutes of rest in the safety of Legot’s office, a place you could let your guard down for a little while, until the minute hand of your watch completed its fifth trip around the face. Making your way to the back of the clinic, you stepped into the storage room to the open trap door leading down to the cellar, descending the worn ladder carefully.

Turning in the space lit only by candles, you frowned slightly to see the wounded man, one leg protruding from beneath the sheets swathed in bandages – most likely covered in burns. Stepping closer to the cot that you realized had been carried down especially for this patient, your small twin bed untouched in its usual corner, you swallowed tightly to see more bandages wrapped around the man’s neck, his right arm in a plaster cast and sling. That truly must have been some landing.

“You are certain he does not need a hospital?” You were not usually one to question a doctor’s opinion, but the look of this man left you full of doubt.

Would you not be risking his life hiding him in this cellar in this condition?

You watched a smile tug at his chapped, pink lips.

“You brought a dame, doc?”

Despite the fact that his eyes were covered in bandages, for the sake of protecting your identity, you could definitely read the mischief in his expression.

“Quite certain.” Doctor Legot bristled and gestured sharply for you to get on with it.

Clearing your throat, you summoned all the authority of your grandmother, as well as her haughty vowels, as you spoke. “Airman, listen carefully.”

The pilot’s head snapped slightly in your direction. “Hey there, gorgeous.” He grinned broadly.

The unexpected statement stole the wind from your sails, drawing an incredulous laugh from your throat. “You cannot even see me.”

“Can hear it in your voice.” He insisted smugly and you shook your head sharply – in part to clear it.

“Regardless, I am here you to offer you a choice. We can take you now to the local authorities for surrender, you will become a prisoner of war under the protection of the Geneva Convention and receive further medical care in a hospital. You will remain a prisoner for the rest of the war in relative safety. Or, you can remain here, rest and heal, and when you are ready, we will try and get you back to England. You would be dressed as a civilian and if caught, treated as a spy and shot without trial. Knowing all this, what is your choice? Turn yourself in or try and escape?”

“I will never turn myself into those Nazi fucks…pardon my French ma’am.” He smirked and you bit back another laugh at the preposterous expression.

“Very well. You will stay here and do everything Doctor Legot says. No argument, no trouble.”

“Whatever you say, gorgeous.”

Sighing at his incorrigible nature, you turned to the doctor and nodded.

“He will stay and try to escape.”

“Very well, I have one more appointment today and then I will bring you both some dinner later. Thank you, Marie.” He made his way up the ladder stiffly before securing the trapdoor shut, closing you both into your hiding place.

Reaching forward you gently began to unwind the bandages from his eyes, breath hitching in your throat at the brilliant blue that squinted back up at you.

“Knew you were gorgeous. Marie? I’m Curt.”

“Pleased to meet you.” You replied, doing your best to maintain some professional sense of formality. “You should rest.” Moving to the opposite side of the cellar, you sat onto the mattress that was about as exhausted as you, the springs groaning in protest.

“Yeah, probably right…hey did, did the Doc say if they pulled anyone else from the plane?” His expression was filled with a boyish hopefulness that made you long for a better answer.

“He didn’t, no, but I will ask around tomorrow.”

A soft smile graced his features. “Thanks gorgeous, you’re a gem.” He sighed drowsily and you watched as he was quickly pulled into sleep, so very fragile draped across the cot, swaddled in all those bandages.

In just eight weeks would he truly be ready to face tense train rides and a hike across the Pyrenees?

Your doubts were greatly eased the next time you laid your eyes upon him five weeks later, returning from a guiding run to Toulouse with several airmen who had been downed that day in August including a man named Claytor with a rather remarkable twang to his speech. You bore candles, medical supplies, and extra rations for Doctor Legot, knowing he was undoubtedly going through all at a prodigious rate with his unexpected long-term guest in the cellar. Your trusty suitcase also held an Agatha Christie murder mystery, an English book procured at great difficulty, and a selection of French comic books – while he may not speak the language, you were hoping the pictures would be sufficient entertainment in his subterranean dwelling.

As you climbed down the familiar ladder in the candlelit cellar, handbag swinging on your shoulder, you were startled to find Curt on his feet, looking prepared to try and catch you if you should fall, even with one arm still in a cast. Reaching for your suitcase as the doctor lowered it down for you, he cried your name in greeting.

“Marie! Thought you got lost or something up there.” His grin could only be described as cheeky, his charmingly blunt features only growing more handsome under the display of his playful side. He was dressed in clothes that had no doubt been obtained from a sympathetic local; brown woollen trousers held up by suspenders over a blue flannel shirt, a pair of worn leather boots on his feet.

“Curt.” You nodded politely, setting your case on the foot of your bed. “You are looking well.”

“Doc has performed a miracle, just waiting on this bone to finish healing, then I’ll be right as rain.” He nodded firmly, bandages replaced by a network of fresh red scars creeping up the left side of his neck into his dark brown hair.

Unlocking the latches on your luggage, you opened it carefully, retrieving the assortment of reading material you had collected. “Well, I thought since you might no longer be sleeping so much you might…appreciate something to read.”

Curt’s eyes, clearer than your last encounter, dropped to the comic books and novel you held out to him, eyes widening before he took them with a slow grin. “Been thinking about me out there on your travels?”

“Ensuring your stay with the good doctor remains without incident.” You replied nonchalantly, turning back to organizing your belongings before tucking the suitcase beneath the bed.

When you turned back to him, sinking down onto the mattress to rest your sore legs after your long cycle from Antwerp, he was watching you with a bemused expression.

“Appreciated all the same, Marie. Maybe I’ll learn a little French or something.”

“I thought…maybe the pictures?” You tilted your head and he nodded quickly.

“Definitely.” His grin was all too warm, showing his perfect American teeth and made you turn your attention to the small date book you kept in your shoulder bag, quickly looking over your coded appointments for the next few days.

There were several drops arranged for the area – weapons and radios directly flown from England, set to arrive over the next few nights. Most for the Belgian resistance, though two radios were earmarked for the Comet Line. Night drops were some of the most dangerous things you attempted, but when they were successful, the supplies, otherwise impossible to obtain under Nazi occupation, were invaluable.

“Sure look serious over there, gorgeous. Furrow those brows any harder and they’ll get stuck like that.” Curt’s voice cut through your concentration, your head jerking up to blink up at him as though you were startled he was still there.

The sound of the trap door scraping open saved you from trying to produce some reply. “That’ll be dinner.” You murmured, walking to the bottom of the ladder to accept one bowl and then another of thin vegetable soup followed by half a loaf of bread.

You nodded gratefully to Curt as he stepped forward to take one of the bowls with his good hand.

“Thank you, Doctor.”

“See you in a few hours, Marie.”

Carefully setting your bowl on dusty brick floor, you tore the bread roughly in half, offering him the larger portion before retrieving your soup and retreating to your bed.

“He doesn’t cook too bad for a doctor.” Curt commented after swallowing a large sip of soup, taking from the rim of his bowl, and you could not help your small smile.

“I think he enjoys it? Talks about ingredients a lot – how hard some of them are to come by lately.” You shrugged and ate more slowly, savouring every bite as it had been a few days since you had been able to enjoy a warm meal, and Legot was indeed a skilled cook.

“How ‘bout you? You cook?”

You barely contained your wry laugh, shaking your head. Even if you’d had access to a kitchen these days, you certainly had not been raised anywhere near a stove. “My lifestyle isn’t really conducive to cooking, unfortunately.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “My Ma would probably skin me alive if I tried to get in her way in the kitchen. Sisters, too. My Pa and I knew better than to get involved in things we’re hopeless at.”

Licking your spoon clean of every last morsel of soup before moving to swipe a piece of bread through the bowl, you could not help your curiosity. “How many sisters do you have?”

“Two. The apartment back home isn’t big, but the five of us got along alright.” His smile was broad as he leaned back against the cinderblock wall, food long ingested. “What about you? Your family? Where are you from?”

His questions were numerous, bubbling out of him rapidly and making you swallow the half-chewed chunk of bread in your mouth roughly. “Belgium. Do not have one.” You replied evasively before taking another rough bite.

“Just fell out of the sky then? Like some kind of angel?” He teased and you choked a little on your next swallow before managing to get it down.

It would not do for him to know how oddly accurate his jest had been.

“I have to run an errand later tonight, so I’m going to catch a few hours of sleep.” You stood to dust the crumbs from your skirt, setting your empty bowl on the floor.

“An errand in the middle of the night…?”

“Mn.” You grunted in agreement as you toed off your shoes, pulling back the covers before sliding in between the sheets, laying with your back to him.

“Say, Marie?” He asked quietly and you slid your eyes back open.

“Yes?”

“Did you manage to ask around ‘bout…my crew?” There was a soft vulnerability to his tone, his playful bravado seeming to melt away, that made your heart drop.

You honestly had not been sure if he would have remembered that conversation weeks ago, barely conscious and in so much pain. You had of course done as promised, swinging by the Maes farm only to be told that he had was the sole survivor, the rest of the crew set to be buried in the local cemetery by the Nazis – with military honours. What an oddly cruel irony that seemed, to only afford your enemy honour in death.

“I’m sorry, Curt.” You shifted onto your side to face him. “There was no one else who survived.”

An impassive mask fell over his face, his animated expression going blank as he nodded before shifting to lay back on his cot, tucking his hands behind his head. “Thanks for checking.” He mumbled quietly.

“Of course.” You replied softly watching him turn his back to you before doing the same with a soft sigh, duty reminding you that you needed to sleep while you could, a long night ahead of you.

It felt as though you had barely fallen asleep when the scraping of the trap door woke you abruptly. Tossing the covers from your body, you grabbed your handbag, feeling the reassuring weight of your .25 calibre Wembley semi-automatic pistol and F-S knife contained within. Curt glanced back over his shoulder as you slid into your shoes, and you nodded to him.

“Go back to sleep, errand time.” You whispered, collecting both of your supper dishes to pass up to Doctor Legot before ascending the ladder yourself.

Cycling out to the appointed field, you waited hidden amongst the trees with several members of the resistance, the silence of the night unsettling. You knew the plane would fly in low to avoid radar, would cut the engine close to the target to throw off nearby soldiers, but it was a long way from the coast to here. The distant drone of a plane engine reaching your ears made your pulse jump and you forced your breathing to remain even and quiet, every muscle tensing as even the sound of the plane fell silent. Squinting through the trees into the night sky, you licked your lips in anticipation as you spotted the first of several crates falling towards the ground, suspended below parachutes to slow their descent.

Clutching your small spade tightly, you waited until the supplies began landing on the ground before the entire group emerged from the foliage to begin disconnecting the parachutes. Working in concert with others you dug a hole and quickly tossed the telltale silk in before covering it up with earth and tamping it down. Securing the two radios for the Comet Line, cleverly disguised as suitcases, you helped load the rest of the crates and spades into the waiting truck before everyone quickly dispersed into the night.

While your inclination was the cycle headlong towards the safety of the clinic, you forced yourself to maintain a reasonable speed, one that would not attract attention, while taking a rather circuitous route. The eastern horizon was just beginning to lighten as you returned to your hiding place, using the spare key to sneak in the back. Taking a moment to wash your hands in the small washroom for patients, you then carefully descended with the radios and closed the trapdoor. It made quite a racket as it slid home when pulled from the inside, startling Curt from his rest and you frowned apologetically.

“Sorry, everything is fine, go back to sleep.” You murmured, setting the newly procured radios off to the side.

“You’re just getting back now?” He scrubbed a hand down his face tiredly, glancing at his watching blearily.

“Don’t fret about me, rest up, regain your strength.” You smiled wearily and slid back into your bed gratefully.

“There’s a lot more to you than meets the eye, Marie…” A jaw-cracking yawn overtook his statement before he shimmied down beneath his blankets and succumb to sleep once more.

“You have no idea.” You whispered under your breath, settling in for a few hours more sleep before you had to begin your journey to deliver the newly acquired radios to the Comet Line before moving onto the next drop destination.

-------------------------

Read Part Two

In My Blood Masterlist

Tag list: @precious-little-scoundrel, @luminouslywriting, @polikabra

#curtis biddick x reader #curt biddick x reader #curtis biddick #curt biddick #mota fic #mota fanfic #masters of the air fanfiction

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tarotwithlove · 6 months

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PAC ⋆ christmas with your fictional other

reminder that this is a general reading and messages found here may not apply to everyone. take what resonates, leave what doesn't, and don't force anything if it does not fit.

BOOK A READING WITH ME · LINKTREE · 18+ PATREON · SUGGEST A PAC TOPIC · TIPS ♡ tips and feedback are highly appreciated!

GROUP ONE

cards · eight of boons, keeper of challenges, five of boons, three of challenges, eight of visions, keeper of spells.

channelled songs · gift & a curse by megan thee stallion. cry out by one ok rock. dear. by the boyz. loving you is a mountain by isaia huron.

hey there group one ♡ you may spend a lot of time on making or finding the perfect gift for your fictional other - or, in some cases, fictional others, because a large group of people, in particular, is coming to mind. it may be important to you that the gift is handmade, and crafted with a lot of care for your fictional other(s) and their family or group of friends.

you may bake or cook something special to celebrate the christmas festivities, only for your efforts to be disregarded. or for what you made to be burned or broken. for some, you may share the food with your fo's family or friends, only for one of them to make a snide remark about how it tastes. if you craft something, like a bauble for the tree or a tree angel, someone may mention how it's lopsided or the paint is uneven. they make a comment that stings but that is, ultimately, meaningless in your overall enjoyment of the day.

for some in this group – though, it is likely that it is for most – your christmas with your fictional other may start off beautifully mundane and end as it is disrupted by some great tragedy or some large-scale event. of course, it depends on the character and world that you are asking about and holds especially true for those of you asking about a shounen anime -- jujutsu kaisen in particular.

so, this christmas starts off as any other christmas, as any other day, and ends with your fictional other (or fictional others) running off to fulfil other, more urgent responsibilities. you will likely end christmas day alone and overwhelmed with bittersweet feelings about what you wished the day would be like versus what it actually ended up looking like.

GROUP TWO

cards · seeker of boons, seven of boons, two of spells, child of boons (reversed), seven of challenges, eight of spells.

channelled songs · animal instinct – acoustic version by the cranberries. sunflower by triple h. foreign by thutmose & alex mali. deep in love by day6.

hey there group two ♡ the christmas with your fictional other will be a non-traditional one. neither you nor your fictional other may care much about christmas, may not care to spend much time with family, especially during the christmas period, or you may be separated from your respective families in some way.

instead of a christmas celebration, you and your fictional other may spend much of your christmas in the service of others -- volunteering in old age homes, orphanages, and/or homeless shelters. hopping from place to place, going where you are called or where you are needed, and giving to others in any way possible. you may even make a pot of food and drive around your city, handing out food and water to the homeless, or to anyone who comes up asking for some.

you and/or your fictional other may have a complicated relationship with christmas, so you may fill the day with activities with which to distract yourselves from what is going on around you.

later on in the day, you and your fictional other may go to markets. there may be a thrift market or a christmas market at which you decide to while your time away. here, your fictional other may pickpocket something small to gift to you. you two may make a challenge of pickpocketing small items to gift to each other. of course, not only pickpocketing, but you may just go around buying items for each other.

i’m thinking of nami and usopp from one piece – in particular of this post i saw about how their talents as a thief and a liar would probably make for such fun nights out. so you and your fictional other, besides the pickpocketing or the buying things for each other, may also make a challenge of seeing how much free things you can get.

GROUP THREE

cards · seeker of visions, seeker of boons, keeper of boons, child of boons, child of spells, black shuck, five of spells.

channelled songs · fuckin' sound by lucky daye. goosebumps by travis scott. heaven by taemin. after we make love by whitney houston.

hey there group three ♡ this group has the most romantic overtones, the greatest romantic energy. you and your fictional other may not just be lovers, but soulmates; you're like two halves of the same heart, or two sides of the same coin. there's just so, so, so much of love and warmth here. it's as if you and your fictional other waited your whole lives to find each other and now that you have found each other there's nothing more important than building a beautiful, safe life together.

a child, or children, may be a significant part of your relationship with your fo. you or your fictional other may have a child, or either of you may be in a position where you look after children. this may even be your child with your fictional other. christmas with your fictional other, more than anything else and regardless of whether children are directly involved, feels like a family affair. with family and community being of the utmost importance to you and your fo.

i don’t know when was the last time i even thought about the x-men, but i’m thinking of them now, so a member of the x-men or the x-men as a team may be who you are reading this pick a card for. whether or not you’re asking about the x-men, though, i do feel that you’re asking about a character from a movie. i’m also thinking of irish pubs and traditional dancing, so you or your fo may be irish.

christmas with your fictional other is so fun and lively, with lots of dancing, singing, and loud expressions of joy.

this may be both of your first times spending christmas with a lover, so there is a lot to navigate. or it may be the first time introducing your respective families together. but because of how light this energy is, any worries quickly dissipate and it starts to feel so natural you both wonder what you were ever worried about. you get caught up in the dancing. in the singing. in the merriment.

christmas with your fo will be a large gathering, with pockets of people doing different things. some playing board games. some baking or cooking. some just chatting. there's also this energy of friendly competition, and this event may have a costume or ugly sweater competition. you and your fo will dress up as festively as possible, though it's likely that you had to corral your fo to dress up to theme – of course, in matching outfits with you.

GROUP FOUR

cards · eight of boons, nine of visions, keeper of challenges, child of challenges, five of challenges, the faery wind.

channelled songs · hello future by nct dream. shattered dreams by earl sweatshirt. amusement park by baekhyun. far by sza.

hey there group four ♡ you will put in a LOT of effort on christmas; decorating your home, cooking and baking, and just making sure that everything is perfect for your christmas together.

you may have wished time and again to have someone with whom to spend christmas, and so you do everything in your power to make sure this day is as worthwhile, beautiful, and memorable as possible. this may also be because you're hosting your fictional other and their family for the first time, so you want to make as good of an impression as possible.

you may feel like you are under a lot of pressure on this day, and it will likely boil over and lead to small arguments with your fictional other. a significant argument may come from your fo inviting someone extra at the last moment -- someone you had not prepared for, and thus are unable to cater for. this could be made worse by this person being an ex-lover or an ex-mutual friend, with your fictional other not realising the implications of this. to them, it is harmless, while to you it is a sign of disrespect.

you may find it difficult to truly enjoy christmas with your fictional other because you are so busy running all over the place – making sure this person is comfortable, or reheating that person's plate, or getting a blanket for this other person because they're cold. your perfectionism tendencies coming through again.

your fictional other will spend much of the day observing you keenly. as much as they want to step in and help, or to tell you to breathe, there’s this sense that they don’t want to overstep or undermine your efforts. so instead of telling you to take it easy – likely because you won’t even listen – they’ll go behind your back and pick up the slack. if you’re setting the table and someone is looking for you to ask about drinks, your fo will guide them away from you and get the drinks for them instead. if you’re in the middle of cleaning a spill, your fo will start talking to you in order to sneakily get you to hand over the cleaning tools so that they can clean up instead and you can go and be the amazing host/hostess you want to be.

they want to help but they also know how important this day is to you. they want you to rest, to take a breath, to calm down, but know that it would only hurt you if they voice this. but when the day is done and everyone has gone home, they will run you a bath. they will clean up. and once you’re out of the bath, they will sit you down and make sure you’re eating a hot meal, after which they will give you a shoulder massage and congratulate you on a successful christmas party.

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hyperfixatedfandomer · 8 months

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A stake to the heart (captured Richter AU)

(Young Richter gets captured by Olrox as revenge: a bittersweet found family AU introduction post)

This is my take on the prompt 3 that was sent to me in this ask. Namely, “Richter has a breakdown over being estranged from his mother and seeks comfort in anything other than Olrox but eventually turns to him.”

All families eventually have their arguments, that’s just how it worked. Especially so with parents and their children.

“—That’s alright. You just don’t know any better. Your mother was about to abandon you after all.

Especially in circumstances as unique as theirs.

“…you did not just—”

“What? Tell you the truth?” Olrox retorted.

Richter gasped in offence. “You-you know nothing about her! She was trying to protect me!”

“Right, and she couldn’t find a better way to do so than to ship you off across the ocean, all alone, to, who was it? A cousin thousand times removed?”

Richter breathed heavily, anger and hidden sadness brewing in his chest. Any other grown man would have beat him for back-talking by now, yet Olrox had been insistent on entertaining this argument for a good ten minutes now. An argument that started as an innocent complaint over Richter refusing to go to bed on time.

His patience gradually wore off, but not nearly as much as Belmont’s, as his fists glowed blue.

“If she really wanted do protect you, she wouldn’t have roped you into your "family business" at the ripe age of five and then dropped her jaw when it ""surprisingly"" became too dangerous.”

“So what are you saying?” Richie raised his voice, tears making their way into his eyes. “That my mother hates me!? Is that what you’re getting at!?!”

“Oh no, I wouldn’t be delusional enough to assume such a thing.”

Richter sighed, trying to get his flames under control.

“What I am saying, is that she is a horrible parent.”

And then his hands ignited anew.

“My mom is a GREAT fucking parent!”

“Right, which is why you swear like a sailor, are constantly unkempt and have zero table manners. You might as well have lived in a doghouse until I found you.”

“OH FUCK YOU!” The boy snapped, a tear rolling down his cheek. “She can’t be there at my every whim because she’s busy being the sole Belmont that protects this world from monsters like YOU!”

“…I knew it. You have idea.”

“…what?”

“Your mother is not the only one. Juste Belmont is still alive.”

Richter stood, lost for words as all fire ceased. “…No. Grandfather can’t be…”

“Oh yes.”

“You’re lying.”

“I wish I was. He lives in France, in a backwater village just one town over from where your aunt was going to house you.”

Richter couldn’t speak. Couldn’t even breathe.

“And guess what? He made her promise him that she’d never tell you where to find him.”

“…h-how do you—”

“Heard rumours of a mercenary with a whip, flew over the English border and confirmed them. Very conveniently, he had just showed up at your aunt’s doorstep that night. He didn’t even know you were missing, but of course he wouldn’t. If anything, I’d say he is the one who couldn’t care less if you were dead in the water.”

Another tear fell.

“It is sad really, to see that the apple didn’t fall far from the tree.”

“Mom…mom didn’t say anything about him”

“No, because she resented him. Do you know why? Want to give it a guess?”

“….he…” Richter realised with horror. “He abandoned her.”

“Yes.” Olrox growled, and Richter practically felt venom seep into his soul through the cracks in his walls. “He hightailed when your mother needed him the most, and spent the last several decades drinking himself into oblivion.”

Richter sniffed, hugging himself and looking at the floor.

“Although I’ve got to give credit where it’d due to Miss Renard. She chewed him out for it for a solid hour. Though I’d say no words are enough fo make up for his neglect…or the neglect your mother was about to put you through.”

“Shut up.” He whispered.

“You’ve been giving me the worst attitude imaginable, acted as a direct danger to many of my kin, and yet, I kept you around.”

“Stop.”

“I took care of you from the night I got you.”

“Shut your mouth.”

“I haven’t touched a hair on your head, even when you well deserved it.”

“Get out!”

“And, in difference from your mother, I actually chose to have a child in my life, as opposed fo tolerating one because of an incident.”

Like a stake to the heart, that simple fact knocked the air out of Richter’s lungs. Julia never mentioned his father, and it wasn’t hard to figure out why no one knew him, but she promised Richie that she never regretted having him.

…or did she? Because why, why would she send him away?

Sobbing, Richter finally met eyes with Olrox, his own blue ones filled to the brim with tears. He wanted to fire at him, set him ablaze, burn him into ash in a way only the rising sun could. He wanted…

He wanted for the pain in his heart to stop. He wanted the feeling of rejection to disappear. He wished for someone, anyone, to make it go away.

Which is why he didn’t resist Olrox’s arms when they enveloped him in an embrace so secure it felt like no one could hurt him. He let himself loose and cried harder.

“That’s it, let it out…” The vampire spoke softly. “None of this is your fault.”

Were these words true? Richter didn’t know, but he needed them to be true. He clung onto Olrox’s neck as he sobbed, an outcast little pup in a dragon’s grasp.

The hour was nearing three in the morning when Richie came too. Olrox still held him, now sitting on the edge of a small bed, and hummed a melody that gave the boy something to focus on; something that wasn’t the dull ache in his soul. The night had been quiet, safe for crickets in the garden.

Olrox pulled away gently, tucking Richter into the covers and squeezing his shoulder in assurance. “It’s late. Try getting some sleep.”

Belmont didn’t respond, instead burying his face deeper into the pillow.

“It’ll take time, I know, but don’t fight it. Let those feelings flow, so you can move on.”

“But with who?” Richter asked, his voice muffled.

Olrox momentarily lost his breath, before making the leap. “With me. I’ll be at your side. I won’t leave you to fend for yourself.”

Richie turned to the vampire, his big blue eyes filled with fear and hope and sadness that pierced his dark, old soul sharper than a bullet.

“I don’t trust you.”

“You can trust my actions. I kept you safe and sound until now, haven’t I?”

Richter averted his eyes before nodding.

“You can sleep in tonight. Make sure you’re well-rested.” Olrox stood.

“Wait!” The boy suddenly leapt, grabbing his sleeve.

“Hm?”

“…can you…stay? Until I fall asleep?” He pleaded.

The Aztec’s chest felt like it was about to explode. “Of course. Just fall asleep.” He sat back in the bed, and as his precious son’s breathing grew calm and even, he thought to himself with a fond smile.

What a perfect revenge.

#castlevania nocturne #cv nocturne #castlevania #castlevania netflix #castlevania au #castlevania fanfiction #castlevania olrox #Olrox #nocturne olrox #casltevania richter #richter belmont #nocturne richter

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foreverindreamlandd · 2 years

Text

Awake My Soul • 16

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

WC: 5k

Summary: It’s been 5 years since zombies first began their invasion, and despite everything you’ve been through, you’ve managed to survive up until this point. Now it’s time to face your most dangerous challenge yet….the grumpy, untrusting, fiercely protective Bucky Barnes.

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of nightmares, healing from trauma, mentions of injuries, liiiil bit of angst BUT MOSTLY FLUFF I SWEAR :)

A/N: Last chapter before the epilogue, folks. Please enjoy all the fluff in this one. Thank you a million times over for your patience. Will try to get the epilogue to you as soon as possible. <3

Series Masterlist

**There is a playlist for this fic, but linking it here messes up the tags so feel free to check it out in the series masterlist!

It was raining.

The soft pitter patter of water droplets as they landed on the roof of the watchtower created a steady, calming cadence for your ears.

Behind you, Morgan, AJ, and Cass squealed in delight as they ran around in the mud and rain with their new friends, Billy and Tommy, twin brothers.

Once you had settled yourself back to camp, you requested to switch your watch shift to the day. Nights were still hard for you, and though you rarely slept through them anymore, it felt safer to be in the dorms where your family was just a few feet away rather than being outside by yourself in the dark.

The dark was still hard for you after all that time locked in that pitch black room with Hydra.

The only argument Sam had was whether it was too soon for you to return to your regular duties, but you quickly waved him off. It was worse sitting around doing nothing, allowing intrusive thoughts and agonizing memories to enter your mind. You preferred getting your hands dirty as you picked the grown vegetables in the garden, or cleaning the weapons in your arsenal room.

And being here, on watch, where you could escape to whatever world existed between the pages of the book you were currently reading.

You stuck with comfort reads lately, first picking up Ella Enchanted to come back to something familiar, something grounding. Now, you were flipping through Along for the Ride by Sarah Dessen, a book you read at least five times during your days as a young, angsty teen.

Resting the book on the ground beside you, you turned your gaze to watch the kids play, a small smile on your lips. From the corner of your eye you saw the twin’s mom, Wanda, standing against one of the brick buildings. Her arms crossed in front of her, and she was laughing at the eruption of giggles coming from her boys.

Lord knows how long it had been since they had laughed like that.

The Maximoffs were one of the dozens of prisoners held at the Hydra camp. Shield had helped as many as they could escape, guiding them through the woods and providing any resources they could as you began your trek home.

Many of the prisoners broke away a few days after the rescue, itching to go find any remaining members of their previous group.

Wanda’s husband Vision approached to join her in watching them play, wrapping an arm around his wife and kissing the crown of her head as she leaned into him.

From what you learned from the Maximoffs, Wanda had been separated from Vision and the twins for months after being captured by Hydra. Up until a few weeks ago when Shield blew the underground prison to the ground, she had nearly driven herself mad thinking they were all dead.

For the entire journey back to camp, she did not let her boys stray more than five feet from her, and you could see the distress in her eyes whenever she wasn’t holding their hands or holding them in her arms.

Turning your focus back to the outskirts of camp, you extended your arm out, letting the rain splash into the palm of your hand.

It had been so long since you were able to enjoy rain like this. To let its natural tempo steady your heartbeat, for the heightened smell of the trees around you settle your mind, to focus on the feeling of its cool droplets against your skin.

You closed your eyes, letting this small comfort bring ease to your senses.

A soft whistle sounded off behind you, and your heart fluttered in response. Seconds later, strong arms wrapped you from behind, and gentle lips were pressing lightly on a faded bite mark on your neck.

“Hey, Sweetheart,” he whispered, chin resting on your shoulder.

Your hand when on his arm, thumb running up and down the sleeve of his Henley. “Hi, Bucky.”

Bucky let out a small breath of relief at the sound of his name on your lips, pulling away just enough to take hold of your chin and slowly glide your gaze to him.

You stared into those stunning blue eyes, and all of the adoration shining within them as he gauged your reaction to saying his name. Looking for any sign of discomfort, his body relaxing more and more when he determined you were okay.

This was the new routine the two of you had established since beginning your journey of ripping yourself of Hydra’s hold. It took…a lot of patience and learning from you both, and had been far from easy.

When you first cleared your mind of its clouded, confused state after Bucky had been bitten by the runner, the two of you naively thought that you were totally free from the brainwashing that had been done to you. There were so many happy tears, lots of kissing, and lots of smiles as relief flooded through you.

That night, after the rest of Shield had reunited and built camp on the outskirts of the rubble with the rescued prisoners, you fell asleep wrapped in his arms, feeling like everything was going to be okay.

But apparently the nightmares still remained in the darkest depths of your mind, and you were back in the woods running from Bucky. When you woke to concerned eyes, you let out a blood-curdling scream, fighting and clawing your way free from the monster before you.

Moments later, after a lot of heavy breathing and his calm, soothing voice, you registered where you were and who you were with, collapsing into his chest as sobs overtook you, your brain trying to put itself back together again.

It was one of the worst moments of your life, witnessing the pain in his eyes, the fear that a part of you would always be afraid of him.

It didn’t end there. Sometimes he would walk up to you too quietly and you would whip around pressing a dagger to his neck. Whenever you said his name, the pain of the collar that was no longer around your neck resurfaced so aggressively that you would keel over in agony.

And though each of these moments devastated Bucky, he was determined to stay by your side and help you through each trigger, determined to help you fight the demons that still lingered in your mind.

You were both determined to make sure that wouldn’t happen. Which was what prompted “The System.”

Him whistling whenever he was approaching from behind to make you aware of his presence, you saying his name over and over and over again to chip away the pain it caused in your neck from the phantom collar.

Sleeping in separate spaces. That had been the hardest, going to bed desperately wishing to have your greatest protector and friend but having to force yourselves to be apart so that you wouldn’t wake up thinking he was trying to kill you.

Baby steps. It was what you had told yourself during those early days of knowing Bucky, when you were trying to get him to not hate your guts. It had worked then, and you hoped it would work now.

And of course it did, because everything involving you and Bucky would always work out. It had to.

It happened when you were walking the halls of the dorms late one night, returning to your room from the bathroom. When you passed Bucky’s door, you heard sounds of distress.

At first, you wondered if it was in your head, but then you heard the faint cry of Bucky calling for help, and you were by his side in an instant.

You touched his arm. “Bucky?” There was a slight sting in your neck but you fought back a wince.

His eyes were closed, face scrunched in agony. “Help. Help.”

“What’s wrong?” you asked, hand going to his sweat-covered forehead.

“Can’t…can’t…”

“Can’t what?”

“Can’t find her.”

Your brows furrowed. “Can’t find who?”

Tears fell from his closed eyes. “Y/n. She’s gone,” he whimpered. “I can’t find her. I need her.”

It broke your heart to hear the pain in his voice, the despair, and without a second thought you crawled into bed, holding him tightly in your arms as he clung to you.

“It’s okay, Bucky,” you whispered, kissing his forehead. “I’m here. It’s okay.”

Your comforting words made him release a long, heavy sigh, and his hands squeezed around your waist in desperation.

His breathing remained ragged for a little while longer, but eventually, with you whispering comforting words, he relaxed.

You tried to stay awake all night, dreading the idea of you falling asleep while he was in such turmoil and waking up in a state of terror being near him, not wanting to be the cause of more heartache for him.

But the nightmares that had incessantly haunted your dreams had made your nights restless, and you were completely exhausted. So eventually, as your eyelids grew heavier and heavier, you dozed off into a deep slumber.

This time, instead of running through the woods, you were standing in the clearing he had once taken you to. You watched a handful of wild horses - one of them a stunning blue-gray color - galloping along the lush field, the warm sunlight of golden hour on your face, sky aglow in various shades of pink, orange, and purple.

It was so…peaceful.

You felt something brush along your neck, and instead of panic, you felt warmth course through you.

Bucky pulled his lips away as you turned to him, his eyes shining in the bright sunlight. He was so beautiful, so happy as he looked at you.

You smiled, wrapping your arms around his and resting your head on his shoulder, the two of you staring out into the clearing, no thoughts of danger or fear in your mind whatsoever.

Only love.

When you woke up that morning, the smile was still on your face.

It dropped when you noticed Bucky was no longer in bed with you, but sitting on the floor, back resting against the bed.

He turned to look at you, a shameful look in his eyes like a sad puppy.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

You propped yourself up on your elbow. “Sorry for what?”

His lips curved up in a joyless smile. “Somehow forcing you in here. And then for being selfish and not leaving before you woke up.”

You sighed, shaking your head. “Bucky.” You shuffled over to create a space in the bed, patting the sheets. “Get your ass back in here.”

He narrowed his eyes, skeptical, but when he opened his mouth to argue, you scowled, and he thought better than to go against your wishes.

Slowly, and hesitantly, he got up from the floor and crawled back into bed, his muscles relaxing as he wrapped his arm around you.

Your head rested on his chest, and you listened to his heartbeat slow down.

“You were calling for help in your sleep,” you whispered after a few minutes, and his muscles tensed back up.

“Really,” he replied, hand moving over your head, massaging your scalp.

You nodded. “You couldn’t find me.”

Silence.

“Do you have that dream often?” you asked.

More silence. And then…

“Every night since you left.”

Your heart split at the sadness in his voice and you lifted yourself up to look at him, hand cupping his cheek.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help you.”

Bucky let out a small, bitter laugh, rolling his eyes. “I should be saying that to you, Sweetheart.”

“Are you kidding? You saved me from the dark and brought me back to life, Buck, in every way that it mattered. You have been so kind, and patient, and loving. You never gave up on finding me, and you still haven’t given up on me even though I’ve been a fucking wreck. Through all the shit I’ve put you through, you never gave up on me.”

Tears welled in Bucky’s eyes as he wiped away the one sliding down your cheek.

“And I never will. I’ll never give up, I’ll never stop waiting, I’ll never stop fighting for you.”

His hand moved to gently cup the back of your head as he pulled you closer for a slow, tender kiss.

The two of you stayed in bed the rest of the day - with the exception of Bucky running to the kitchen to grab food for the both of you after his stomach grumbled for an entire minute. You stayed there, wrapped up in each other, drifting between silence and talking about anything and everything.

Things hadn’t been this easy between you two in such a long time, that you had almost forgotten how much you had been craving it.

Enough time passed that you could barely register it passing anymore, your lids growing heavy as Bucky hummed a soft tune you both loved, the rumbling in his chest lulling you to sleep.

You weren’t sure how long you had drifted off for before he gently nudged you awake, and the room was pitch black.

“We should get you to bed,” he whispered, kissing your temple before starting to slide out of his bed to escort you to your room.

A soft groan escaped and you shook your head, hands gripping around his t-shirt.

“I wanna stay,” you mumbled, eyes slowly closing.

Even in the dark, you could sense the skepticism in his eyes, and though he did not pull away from your hold, his body remained tense.

“I don’t want to risk it, Sweetheart. What if we just got lucky this morning?”

“Bucky, please let me stay,” you quietly begged. “I’m okay. I promise.”

The earnestness in your voice was what finally got him to relax, his body melding back against yours.

“If you start feeling overwhelmed or afraid even for a second, just let me know. Okay?”

You nodded, pulling him closer to you until your cheek rested against his chest once more, already drifting back to sleep. “I will.”

The last thing you felt before returning to your slumber were his lips pressing against the crown of your head.

And then…

You were back in the field, with gentle arms wrapped around you, staring at the most beautiful smile you had ever seen.

You felt loved. Happy.

Safe.

When you awoke hours later - the soft rays of sunlight warming your eyelids - you opened your eyes to a still sleeping Bucky. He must have tried to stay awake all night to make sure you were comfortable, exhausting himself.

There was a small part of your mind that was just as nervous about waking up with him after these past few weeks. What if you weren’t ready for this moment? What if the triggers were hidden somewhere in your brain, about to go off any second as you looked at him?

You waited for said trigger to turn on as you continued to stare at Bucky, praying that he would remain the man you loved, not feared.

Seconds passed, turning into minutes, and your mind stayed in a state of adoration as you admired the peaceful expression on his face as he slept.

As if sensing your intense gaze, Bucky began to stir, body shifting, arm snaking its way around your waist-

He froze, realizing he wasn’t alone as his eyes shot open, looking over at you, hesitation painted across his face.

“Morning, Beefcake,” you said, trying to make your voice as comforting as possible.

He licked his lips, eyes scanning yours. “Morning, Sweetheart. How…how are you feeling?”

You responded by crushing your lips to his, hand gripping the back of his neck for support. Bucky let out a moan of relief, pulling you flush against him.

The two of you never slept apart from each other again.

“You’re late for watch, you know,” you chided as Bucky settled himself by your side, gaze following yours to look at the rain.

He rolled his eyes, fingers sneaking down to tickle your waist and you squealed.

“I’m never late, Sweetheart, you’re just always annoyingly early.”

You gave him your best mischievous grin. “I know, it’s just that I love busting your balls, Beefcake.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” he grumbled, smile still on his face.

You scrunched your nose at him before leaning forward for a kiss. When you pulled back, your eyes went to the bite mark on his neck and you grimaced. “How’d it go?”

Bucky shrugged, fingers grazing over the newly-formed scar that matched yours. “Same as always. Banner says that my blood is showing up as normal. I’ve officially been given the clean, zombie-free bill of health.”

Your shoulders sagged in relief. “Good,” was all you could think to say.

Bucky pulled you closer to him and kissed your brow. “Can’t get rid of me that easily, baby.”

You smacked his metal arm with a scoff. “As if I’d ever want to be rid of you.”

“You better not!” he laughed. “Cause I don’t plan on ever leaving your side.”

Butterflies swarmed in your stomach and you looked up to meet that beautiful cerulean gaze. “Promise?”

He kissed the bridge of your nose. “Promise.”

Your romantic moment was cut off by a sudden squeal, and you both jerked your heads over to the camp in alarm, only to find that Morgan had thrown a handful of mud at Billy and was now running for her life as he chased her, preparing to strike back.

The two of you chuckled at the chaos before you. “Good to see they’re settling in nicely,” Bucky remarked.

“Who knows the last time they were able to have fun and be so carefree.”

Bucky nodded. “Been a while since we had any newcomers, especially kids. It’s nice.”

“Do you think they’ll stick around?”

He shrugged. “You never know. At the end of the day it’s up to them and what they think is best for their family. But I can’t imagine them saying no to a semi-safe place where they can heal together.”

“This is the best place for that. Healing, that is,” you added with a wink, and Bucky smiled, squeezing you a little more tightly to him.

A few beats of silence passed as you continued watching the kids play below.

“Banner mentioned he wants to talk with us,” he said.

Your brows furrowed. “Did he say why?”

He shook his head. “Not really. He says he has an idea he wants to run by us. Some long-term project or whatever. I was thinking we could go tonight, after dinner?”

You bit the inside of your cheek. “Actually,maybe we can talk to him tomorrow morning? You and I…we already have plans for tonight.”

Bucky’s lips turned downward in an intrigued expression. “Oh really?”

Heat rose to your face, knots growing in your stomach. “Well, I was kind of low-key planning to ask this super hot, grumpy pants with a heart of gold out on a date.”

His cheeks flushed a bright pink, but tried to keep his expression casual. “I sure hope you’re talking about me, Sweetheart.”

“What, is Yelena not available tonight?”

A loud, dramatic scoff escaped Bucky as you fell into a fit of giggles, and he tackled you to the ground playfully, peppering your face with a multitude of kisses, pinning you down.

“Alright, alright, fine!” you squealed. “I’ll take you on the damn date, Beefcake!”

He pulled back at the peace offering, face smug. “Pick me up at seven?”

You winked. “Wear that skimpy black dress you know I like.”

“Do you think I’ll get a kiss at the end of the night?” His lips lowered to hover over yours.

“Only if you behave,” you replied, suddenly breathless

He let out a low chuckle, the rumbling in his chest vibrating against yours. “Damn,” he murmured, “I know I can’t keep that promise around you.”

“Bummer,” you whispered, lifting your head just enough for your lips to finally meet.

“So anyways, I’m running through the woods as these giant dinosaurs in clown outfits chase after me. I finally managed to climb up a tree, but who’s at the top? Fucking Dum Dum with his giant bowl of soup smiling at me. And then I woke up.”

Yelena took a bite of green beans as you and Kate stared at her, eyes narrowed.

“Have you been sneaking sweets before bed, babe?” Kate asked.

The blond shook her head. “No.”

You crossed your arms and leaned them on the table. “Do you always have dreams like this, Lena?”

Her lips turned downward as she considered the question. “The clown dinosaurs show up from time to time. But the Dum Dum thing is new….” she turned around and looked at Dum Dum, who caught her gaze, giving her his classic cheery smile and wave. She turned back around with a grimace, “...and slightly more unsettling.”

“Dum Dum is literally the nicest person in this entire camp,” Bucky remarked with a mouthful of bread. “And we literally just fought an entire evil empire and their hoard of flesh-eating zombies. How the hell can he be more unsettling than that?”

“Too much joy,” Yelena said, with what looked to be almost genuine fear in her eyes. “How can one person be so cheerful? In Russia, everyone was mad. Anger is what comforts me.”

“Don’t worry, Lena, if Dum Dum ends up smiling at you to death, I’ll make him pay,” Kate said, resting a reassuring hand on her girlfriend’s leg and kissing her cheek.

“Why does Yelena look like she’s just been to hell and back?” Druig asked, walking up to the table and resting his food tray down to join the group. Before sitting down, he slid the chair next to his back as Makkari - one of the new additions to camp after Hydra’s downfall - took the seat, her smile growing as she looked at Druig. She moved her hand from her chin out in front of her to sign thank you.

The right corner of his mouth twitched as he mirrored her gesture.

What had struck you most about Makkari upon meeting her was that – though she was barely able to stand from all of the injuries she sustained the day of the explosion – she was always there to lend a helping hand to someone who needed it, even if that meant holding someone else up for miles when she could barely do it for herself.

The other thing you noticed immediately was the way Druig’s eyes always found their way to her. She could be dozens of feet away and yet he always knew exactly where she was. And every time they locked eyes, she would lift her chin up at him with a smile, and the corners of his mouth would turn up ever so slightly as he lifted his own chin up.

“She’s scared of Dum Dum,” you replied, giving your blond best friend a quick wink as she glared at you.

“Am not,” she grumbled, and Kate wrapped her arm around her in support, biting back a smile.

“Not what?” Sersi asked as she approached, taking the seat next to you and bumping her arm against yours in hello.

“Afraid of Dum Dum,” Druig responded, and Yelena growled as the rest of the group burst into a fit of laughter.

“Sounds like you lot are having fun over there!” Dum Dum called out. “What’s got the gang in such a fit of giggles?”

“It’s cause she’s afraid of y-” Bucky shouted.

“NOTHING’S HAPPENING OKAY LET’S JUST LET IT GO,” Yelena yelled over Bucky, but there was now a smile forming on her face as she began to see the ridiculousness of the conversation, and you felt tears streaming down your eyes from laughing so hard.

You looked around the table, at the people who meant the most to you all smiling and laughing, as if you hadn’t survived the worst moments of your life, as if your lives weren’t at risk every second of every day.

These were the people who fought for you even when you thought you weren’t worth fighting for, who risked their lives to bring you our of captivity and back home with them.

And you knew that they’d do it all again in a heartbeat if needed, just as you would for them.

It would be naive for you not to think that there would be even worse moments ahead, that terrible things were bound to happen, that there would be days when you couldn’t remember the last time you laughed.

Those moments would still come, but as long as you could also have these moments, you knew that you could survive anything.

“Alright, Sweetheart,” Bucky said as you led him out of the cafeteria to the location of your date. “Can I get any sort of hint as to where you’re taking me?”

You grabbed his hand. “Not a chance, but I’m sure you’ll get the idea the closer we get to our destination.”

He let out a huff in response and you glared up at him. “So dramatic, Beefcake. We’ll be there soon, so don’t get your pants all up in a tizzy.”

Another grumble, but his lips quirked up and you felt his thumb move along your knuckles.

Though you were joking, there was a bundle of nerves wreaking havoc in your stomach as you headed to the building with the science lab and library, leading Bucky to the semi-hidden door tucked in the back.

You stopped at the door, looking up at his confused expression.

“Months ago, you pulled off the most romantic gesture I could have ever asked for, and I completely ruined it, then put you through absolute hell for a really, really long time.” Tears pricked your eyes and you looked down at the ground in shame thinking back to the night you left. “I know that at the time, I thought what I was doing was the right thing, but I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive myself for putting you through all that pain.”

“Sweetheart-” he began to say, and you looked back up to meet his watery eyes, shaking your head to cut him off as your hand went to the knob, slowly turning it and pushing open the door to reveal a familiar display.

Amber lights creating a soft glow throughout the room, a couch in the middle, a projector behind it, with a DVD case of a movie based on a book that brought you two together so long ago.

Though you had a feeling Bucky had known what was coming, you still felt a small flutter in your chest when his breath hitched.

“I wanted to give that night back to you, rewrite it so that we got the moment we deserved to share. One where two people go on a date and be all romantic and shit and one person doesn’t drug their partner and run away into the night.”

Bucky breathed out a small laugh, a tear running down his cheek.

You moved to wipe it away.

“You mean…everything to me, Bucky Barnes. You’re the most important person in my life, the one who owns my soul. If I could give you the world I would, if you’d let me. For now, I can only give you a Twilight movie date, and I hope that that’s enough-”

Unable to control himself any longer, Bucky jumped forward, wrapping his arms around the small of your back and pulling you close until your lips collided together, lifting you up in the air.

You clung to him for support as your head grew dizzy from the taste of him, just as it always did. You weren’t sure if you’d ever get over the feeling of kissing Bucky, how his lips both kept you grounded and made you feel you were flying at the same time. The hunger you felt, never satisfied when the kiss finally came to an end due to you both being lightheaded from the lack of air.

When that moment happened now, and he pulled away, there was a brightness in his eyes as he stared into yours, and you knew what he was going to say before the words left his lips.

“I love you, Y/n.”

It was the first time he had said it since that night in the woods, when they were spoken with desperation and grief, a moment where both of you thought it would be the end.

Now, as he said it, it felt like a true beginning.

“And I love you, Bucky,” you said in return. It felt so good to finally say that you said it again against his lips as he pulled you closer.

After 15 or so more I love you’s from both of you, Bucky reluctantly lowered you to the ground and the two of you made your way to the couch.

“I promise I’m not going to drug the wine this time,” you said as you handed him a glass. “Gotta make sure you enjoy the hell out of this vampire romance.”

“You’re too good to me, Sweetheart,” he responded, taking a sip without hesitation as a sign of complete trust toward you, and you almost started crying again at the gesture.

After puttering around getting everything situated, you crawled into Bucky’s arms, head resting within the crook of his shoulder.

“Hey,” Bucky said, and you raised your head to look at him. “I love you.”

You smiled. “God, Beefcake, you’re such a sap.” He let out a low, rumbly chuckle, rolling his eyes.”Hey,” you said, and his gaze went back to you. “I love you, too.”

He leaned forward for another kiss before you grabbed the projector remote, pressing play.

Then, for the first time ever, in the middle of a zombie apocalypse…

You and Bucky Barnes went on a date.

Epilogue

#Bucky x reader #Bucky x you #Bucky x y/n #Bucky barnes x reader #Bucky barnes x you #Bucky barnes x y/n #Bucky barnes #Bucky fanfic #Bucky barnes imagine #awake my soul #zombie apocalypse #zombie apocolypse au

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xdirtyxlittlexgirl · 1 year

Text

Love in the Lakehouse

Pairing: Henry Cavill X Reader

Summary: He surprises you with a getaway

Warning: Fluff, sly smut

___

As you two lay in bed finally ending a tiresome day, Henry breaks the news. "I got a little surprise for you princess. I know you've been very tired with work. So have I, and I decided that we can both have some time off. So I planned us a surprise getaway." he says and chuckles when he sees your face light up. "For real?" you ask excited and he nods and you lean in and kiss him. You have been blessed by Aphrodite to be able to get a boyfriend like him. "But where are we going?" you ask pulling away just a little from him. "It's a surprise baby." he said simply and kissed your head knowing if he doesn't fall asleep now, you will ponder him with more questions.

The next day, you wake up all excited and Henry smiles winding up his work and asks you to pack your stuff soon. But when you asked him for more details, he simply smiled and shook his head. "It's a surprise, (y/n)," he said, with a grin. "I want you to pack your bags, and I'll take care of the rest." You had protested, of course, insisting that you at least needed to know the location so you could pack accordingly. But he had been firm, telling you to trust him and let him take care of everything.

And so, a few hours later you stood in front of your wardrobe confused about what to pack. You hear Henry chuckle as he enters the room and kisses your head. "Move, I'll help you pack, although I'd prefer you without anything." He said and winked at you as he started to take out some sundresses, swimwear, and then you see him dig through your lingeriewear and pick out a whole pile. You raise an eyebrow and look at him, and he just grins at you like a baby. What was he planning? There's always something on his mind.

"Okay, Henry, spill the beans," you said, as you wrapped your arms around his neck. "Where are we going?" He had simply grinned and kissed you on the nose. "Nope, not telling. Just trust me baby. I promise you're going to love it."

You chuckle and let him pack as he helped you put everything in his car and tucked you in as well.

As the two of you drove down the winding roads towards countryside, you couldn't contain your excitement any longer. You had rolled up the roof of the car and let the cool breeze wash over your face, taking in the fresh scent of pine and wet earth. You feel Henry keep his hand on your thigh as he gently gives it a squeeze. He loved seeing you like this. He could stare at you for hours and you do catch him looking at you. "Are we there yet?" you asked, your voice filled with eagerness as you lean in and kiss his cheek. In that moment he wanted to stop the car and crash his lips to yours. There was something about the sundresses, your hair flowing with the breeze, your eyes bright with excitement that turned him on so much. He took your hand and kissed it instead. "Almost there sunshine. Just a few more minutes." he said as he kept smothering your hand with kisses.

As you drove closer, you saw the outline of a cozy wooden cabin appear in the distance. It was surrounded by towering trees and looked like something out of a postcard. "Oh, Henry, it's beautiful, is this where we're gonna stay?!," you gasped.

He chuckled and pulled you out of the car bridal style and then set you on the ground. "Glad you like it, my love. This was my family's cabin. When I was a kid, I spent every summer here, fishing in the lake, hunting and hiking in the woods." he said and you just looked at the place in pure amazement. He took you inside you were just taken aback with the whole ambience. The warm, earthy scent of wood hits your nose. The interior was cozy and rustic and tasteful, and you can see his family pictures adorning the wall. There was a huge fireplace in the living room and there was also a huge library next to it. Henry's family were all bookwarms and this clearly explained it. "Baby this is beautifull. Thank you so much for bringing me here." you say as you wrapped your arms around him and leaned in to kiss him.

Later, as you two freshen up, he takes you out to tour around the area. You listen intently as he shared stories of his childhood, feeling like you were getting to know a new side of him. "You know, dad loved fishing here. We would all compete to catch the biggest fish and later we would all cook it for mum." he says reminiscing his old family days. "We would also do these swimming and hunting competitions. One time we pranked Charlie and pushed him off of the dock." he said laughing and all you could do was adore this man as you laughed with him.

After a while of exploring around the woods Henry sets up a warm jacuzzi bath for you, filling it with fragrant lavender bubbles. The jacuzzi was outside the cabin, facing the beautiful scenery and all you could do was admire. He gently helps you out of your sundress and you bite your lip as the cold air caresses your skin. He poured you two some rustic red wine as you sink into the water, feeling the tension in your muscles melt away. He soon joined you in as you felt the warm water massage you while you lay with him, your back pressing to his front as he had his arms wrapped around you. You can feel him kiss your shoulder and head and you couldn't have asked for more. This was it. This is what you've dreamed about and now you have it. The peace and serenity in the landscape was laced with his love, making it a pure fairytale.

"You know my love, you are the most beautiful woman I have ever met," Henry says, as he gazes into your eyes breaking your train of thought. You feel yourself blushing as you hide your face in his shoulder, "Stop it...." you say shyly. There was something about the way he looked at you that made you feel this shy. "It's true (y/n)." he said as he gently lifted your chin so you could look him back in the eye. "I love the way your hair falls on your shoulders, and the way your eyes light up when you talk about something you're passionate about. You are the most amazing person I have ever met, and I feel so lucky to have you in my life." You feel your heart swell with emotion, and you lean in to give him a kiss. It is a soft, gentle kiss, filled with love and affection.

After a while, you two get out of the jacuzzi and get dressed. Although Henry throws a huge banter explaining you a million reasons you should just ditch the clothes and stay naked. You chuckle as he pouts when you put on one of his shirts on, but gets over it quickly when you flash him your bare body underneath. You then try to help him cook dinner but he lifts you up and puts you on the couch and hands you a book. "Tut tut tut, you are staying here while I cook. Let the experts handle it." he said as you raise an eyebrow at him and he chuckles. "You know I cook better than you." he says simply shrugging and giving you one last kiss before he jogs back to the kitchen. After a while, he called you out, and you couldn't help but admire Henry's attention to detail. He had set the table with a vase of wildflowers and lit candles, making the cabin feel like a romantic restaurant. "Baby! This is beautifull!" you say excited as you hug him giving him another kiss. "Not as beautiful as you." he says holding you close and pecking your lips. "I love you so much" you say between kisses. "I love you more" he adds and then you both sit for dinner. It was indeed one perfect meal. If it wasn't for his successful acting career, he could have been an excellent chef.

"You know, I will have to leave next week for shoot again. So I wanted to spend as much time with you as I can." he says almost a little sad that he won't be seeing you for a while. You feel your heart drop at the thought of him leaving but you fix yourself, trying to enjoy the moments you have together. "Don't worry. I won't forget you." you joke a little to lighten him up and stroke his hand as you two eat. "I will come visit you. I promise and you won't be gone for long. It'll all be okay. I have you here with me now and I want you to enjoy it. We can worry about you missing me later." You laugh as he laughs too shaking his head. He loved it. He loved how you always made things better. Even if it was for the worse, you always somehow helped him through it easily.

"Babe, let's go for a swim?" He said as you two were taking a walk after dinner beside the lake. "Now?" you ask him almost surprised and sensing the mischief in his voice. He just nodded and literally tore his shirt off of your body, discarding his own clothes too, as he picked you up and threw you over his shoulder. It all happened too fast for you to process and protest. "Henry!" you almost screamed as he laughed and jumped in the lake with you. You felt the cold water as you scream a little again and he pulls down holding you to his chest. "You're a kid. You know that?" you said, trying to sound annoyed but he leans in and kisses your lips. "But you still love me" he said as you two enjoyed swiming for a bit. You felt him pull you in by your waist as you two see the stars in the sky. He gently starts to kiss your neck and shoulders. Fuck. He starts to suck a warm hickey against your cold skin and you moan a little. His hands travel around your body, cupping and massaging your breasts. You had lost yourself completely in him but soon you felt heavy rain pouring out of nowhere. "Fuck!" Henry growled as you can see the disappointment in his voice. You chuckle as you try to kiss him again but you shriek with the chilling air hitting your body. Within no time, your body starts to shiver and Henry picks you up taking you back inside, without wasting a minute.

"Shhh baby. Relax. I'll get the towels." he said giving you a kiss as you stood dripping wet and shivering. He came back quickly with a towel now already secured around his waist, as he leans in and starts to dry you up. You smile a little as he then carries you to the fireplace. "Mm come here honey." he says as he pulls you on the couch and cuddles you. You feel the warmth of his body and that of the fireplace, relax your body. "Thank you so much." You say as you lean in to kiss him softly. Both your naked bodies intertwine together. He gives you a deep passionate kiss, and slowly enters you. You both make love on the couch and you fall asleep holding him. He later carries you to bed gently tucking you in with him.

As the night goes on, the thunderstorm grows louder and more intense. You feel yourself getting anxious and scared, and you can't help but subconsciously cuddle closer to Henry. Suddenly, a bolt of lightning illuminates the room, followed by a loud clap of thunder. You jump, and your heart starts racing. You can feel your palms getting sweaty, and you start to breathe faster.

"Baby, are you okay?" Henry says huskily as he sits up and pulls you in his lap, stroking your hair. "Shhh baby, it's okay. It's just a storm. You're safe here with me." But you can't shake the fear. Another bolt of lightning flashes, and you can't help but whimper in his chest.

"Shh, it's okay," Henry says, as he pulls you into his arms. "I'm here with you. You don't have to be scared." He starts to rock you gently back and forth, humming a soft tune. Slowly, your heart rate starts to slow down, and your breathing becomes more steady. "You're doing great, princess," he whispers. "Just breathe with me." You try to focus on his words and his touch, and you start to feel more at ease. The storm is still raging outside, but you feel like you can handle it now that he's with you.

After a while, he tucks you back into bed, pulling the covers up around you. "Are you feeling better?" he asks, as he brushes a strand of hair away from your face. You nod, feeling more relaxed than you have in a while. "Thank you for being here with me," you say, as you reach out to take his hand. "Always, my darling," he says, with a smile. "I'll always be here for you." As you close your eyes and drift off to sleep, you feel grateful to have someone like Henry in your life, someone who will always be there to hold your hand and calm your fears. This man made you happy and you wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of your life with him.

----

A/N: Please send in requests for both smut and fluff for Henry Cavill and Chris Evans. My asks are open!

#domhenrycavill #henry cavil x y/n #henry cavill #henry cavill one shot #henry cavill fic #henry cavill x female ofc #henry cavill smut #henrycavill/you #henry cavill x y/n #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x short!reader #Henry Cavill x reader #henrycavillxreader #henry #lovinghenrycavill #HenryCavillFluff #henry+cavill+fluff #Henry Cavill Fluff

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journeytothewestresearch · 2 months

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The Crow's Nest Chan Master of JTTW

I am reading back through Journey to the West (Xiyouji, 西遊記) and was reminded of a strange, seemingly throwaway character who appears at the end of chapter 19, the "Crow's Nest Chan Master" (Wuchao chanshi, 烏巢禪師). He is described as an accomplished cultivator who lives in a juniper tree nest on Pagoda Mountain (Futu shan, 浮屠山), just beyond the border of Tibet (Wusicang, 烏斯藏). Zhu Bajie claims the master once asked him to jointly practice austerities, but the pig-spirit passed on the opportunity. Flash back to the present, and the pilgrims pass into his domain. After a brief chat, the Crow's Nest Chan master orally passes on the Heart Sutra (Xin jing, 心經) to Tripitaka.

There are two things that interest me about the Chan Master. The first is his magical abilities. Sun Wukong is offended by the monk but fails to hit him with his staff:

Enraged, Pilgrim lifted his iron rod and thrust it upward violently, but garlands of blooming lotus flowers were seen together with a thousand-layered shield of auspicious clouds. Though Pilgrim might have the strength to overturn rivers and seas, he could not catch hold of even one strand of the crow's nest (Wu & Yu, 2012, vol. 1, p. 391).

This reminds me of an event from Acts of the Buddha (Sk: Buddhacarita; Ch: Fo suoxing za, 佛所行讚, 2nd-century), an ancient biography of the Buddha:

The host of Mara hastening, as arranged, each one exerting his utmost force, taking each other’s place in turns, threatening every moment to destroy [the Buddha, but] … Their flying spears, lances, and javelins, stuck fast in space, refusing to descend; the angry thunderdrops and mighty hail, with these, were changed into five-colour’d lotus flowers…” (Beal, 1883, pp. 152 and 153).

This points to the Crow's Nest Chan Master having great holy powers.

The second thing that interests me is that he is based on a historical monk, Niaoke Daolin (鳥窠��林, lit: "Bird's Nest" Daolin; 741–824). Here is his full biography from the Records of the Transmission of the Lamp (Jingde chuandenglu, 景德傳燈錄, 1004 to 1007):

Chan master Niaoke Daolin ... was from Fuyang in Hangzhou and his family name was Pan. His mother, whose maiden name was Zhu, once dreamt of the rays of the sun entering her mouth, after which she conceived. When the baby was born a strange fragrance pervaded the room, so the name ‘Fragrant Light’ was given to the boy. He left the home life at the age of nine and received the full precepts at the Guoyuan Temple in Jing (Jingling, Hubei) when he was twenty-one years old. Later he went to the Ximing Monastery in Chang’an to study the Huayan Jing (Avatasaka Sūtra) and the Śāstra on the Arising of Faith (Śraddhotpada Śāstra, Aśvagosa) under the Dharma Teacher Fuli, who also introduced him to the Song of the Real and Unreal, and had him practise meditation. Once Niaoke asked Fuli, ‘Could you say how one meditates and how to exercise the heart?’ Teacher Fuli was silent for a long time, so then the master bowed three times and withdrew. It happened that at this time Tang Emperor Taizong had called the First Teacher in the Empire [Daoqin] of Jing Mountain to the Imperial Palace and Daolin went to pay him a formal visit, obtaining the True Dharma from him. Returning south the master first came to the Yongfu Temple on Mount Gu (Zhejiang), where there was a stūpa dedicated to the Pratyekabuddhas. At this time both monks and laymen were gathering there for a Dharma-talk. The master also entered the hall, carrying his walking stick, which emitted a clicking sound. There was a Dharma-teacher present from a temple called Lingying, whose name was Taoguang, and who asked the master, ‘Why make such a sound in this Dharma-meeting?’ ‘Without making a sound who would know that it was a Dharmameeting?’ replied the master. Later, on Qinwang Mountain, the master saw an old pine tree with lush foliage, its branches shaped like a lid, so he settled himself there, in the tree, which is why the people of that time called him Chan Master Niaoke (Bird’s Nest). Then magpies made their nest by the master’s side and became quite tame through the intimacy with a human – so he was also referred to as the Magpie Nest Monk. One day the master’s attendant Huitong suddenly wished to take his leave. ‘Where are you off to then?’ asked the master. ‘Huitong left the home life for the sake of the Dharma, but the venerable monk has not let fall one word of instruction, so now it’s a question of going here and there to study the Buddha-dharma,’ replied Huitong. ‘If it could be said that there is Buddha-dharma,’ said the master, ‘I also have a little here,’ whereupon he plucked a hair from the robe he was wearing and blew it away. Suddenly Huitong understood the deep meaning. During the Yuan reign period (806-820 CE) Bai Juyi was appointed governor of this commandery and so went to the mountain to pay the master a courtesy call. He asked the master, ‘Is not the Chan Master’s residing here very dangerous?’ ‘Is not your Excellency’s position even more so?’ countered the master. ‘Your humble student’s place is to keep the peace along the waterways and in the mountains. What danger is there in that?’ asked Bai Juyi. ‘When wood and fire meet there is ignition – the nature of thinking is endless,’ replied the master, ‘so how can there not be danger?’ ‘What is the essence of the Buddha-dharma?’ asked Bai. ‘To refrain from all evil and do all that is good,’ answered the master. ‘A three-year-old child already knows these words,’ said Bai. ‘Although a three-year-old can say them, an old man of eighty can’t put them into practice!’ countered the master. Bai then made obeisance. In the fourth year, during the tenth day of the second month of the reign period Changqing (824 CE), the master said to his attendant, ‘Now my time is up.’ And having spoken he sat on his cushion and passed away. He was eighty-four years old and had been a monk for sixty-three years. (Textual note: Some say the master’s name was Yuanxiu, but this is probably his posthumous name.) (Whitfiled, n.d., pp. 56-58).

Sources:

Beal, S. (Trans.). (1883). The Fo-sho-hing-tsan-king: A Life of Buddha by Asvaghosha Bodhisattva. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Retrieved from https://archive.org/details/foshohingtsankin00asva/mode/2up.

Whitfiled, R. S. (Trans.). (n.d.). Records of the Transmission of the Lamp: Volume 2 - The Early Masters. Hokun Trust. Retrieved from https://terebess.hu/zen/mesterek/Lamp2.pdf

Wu, C., & Yu, A. C. (2012). The Journey to the West (Vols. 1-4) (Rev. ed.). Chicago, Illinois: University of Chicago Press.

#Journey to the West #JTTW #Sun Wukong #Monkey King #Tripitaka #Tang Monk #Tang Sanzang #Xuanzang #Zhu Bajie #Pigsy #Crow's Nest Chan Master #JTTW characters

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necroromantics · 6 months

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🧺 — Laundry And Taxes

chapter 8. // (masterlist)

AN: MB BOUT THE WAIT Ive been adjusting to new medication but Im getting the ball rolling again. Im gonna try and post daily or every other day :]

Toby awoke the next morning to the muffled sound of arguing coming from the living room. It sounded as if somebody was fighting over the phone. Sluggishly, Toby walked out of his room to see what was going on. As he quietly lingered in the entrance, he saw his mother crying to herself as she continued to quietly fight with whoever was on the other end of the call.

“Mom? What's wrong?” Toby called out, causing Connie to jump and quickly hang up.

“Nothing, sweetie,” she assured softly as she wiped her tears and stood up to head into her bedroom. Toby watched her for a moment, trying to push down the worry he had felt.

He made himself a bowl of cereal before sitting down on the couch, turning on the TV to a slasher film which had been playing on a channel for Halloween. As Toby watched the killer brutally hack a woman to pieces, the boy’s face scrunched in disgust.

‘That's not accurate at all, come on’ he thought to himself as he took another bite of his breakfast.

As he gulped down his cereal, he couldn’t help but put himself in the position of the killer on the screen. Toby couldn’t help but imagine himself as the one to drill that knife into the chest of the pleading victim. He couldn’t stop from wandering into the terrifying depths of the decayed forest in his mind. Hatchet in his hand, huffing as drool drips from the deep gash in his cheek, blood staining his shoes. His dishes clattered as he dropped them into the sink, turning on the water to rinse them off. Running his hands under the cool downpour, Toby’s gaze turned over to a small orange container hiding behind the toaster on the kitchen counter. His brow creased as he turned off the tap and grabbed the bottle, quickly realizing it was full of pills. The boy tilted his head slightly — he hadn’t refilled his medication in months. As his eyes scanned over the label, he could feel a strange sort of sickness bubbling up from his chest and into his throat.

Toby swung open the door to his mothers room, causing her to take a seated position from the bed she had been laying on.

“Are these yours?” He asked, holding up the bottle of antidepressants. Connie rushed over to the boy and grabbed the pills from his hand.

“Where did you get this?” She demanded to know, guilt pouring from her eyes.

“I found them on the counter. Who were you on the phone with earlier? Was it Frank?”

Toby’s voice got louder as his mother stayed silent. The boy let out an exasperated sigh as he stared at the woman who promised she was done with that man for good.

“Are you fucking kidding me? After everything he did?” He began to shout as Connie did nothing but avoid looking her boy in the eyes, shame dancing on her aged face, her eyes more tired than usual. Toby scoffed and left the room, closing her bedroom door hard behind him, and storming out of the house.

He hadn’t thought about where he was going, his feet were moving faster than his mind. It was almost instinct for the boy to end up at the park, standing by the edge of the forest which surrounded the area. Toby sighed as he took a seat on an empty park bench, leaning back as he attempted to collect himself. The sound of children's laughter filled the crisp October air, the trees had begun to drop their orange and golden leaves, forming decaying piles of foliage on the ground below the swaying branches. He turned his head over to the playground as he made a mental note of the families chatting amongst themselves.

Toby watched as a father pushed his young daughter on the swing. The boy assumed the girl must’ve been starved at home, judging by her small size. He looked over to the monkey bars and saw a middle school boy call out to his parents to watch him cross over the bars. Toby thought to himself that the boy must be looking for attention in public because his parents would never give him the time of day at home. They must spend all their time arguing, he thought. It made him sick, watching all of these families feign innocence. He knew the truth, Toby knew the types of things that happened behind the scenes with people like this. He had seen it back in the old world, and back in the place he grew up in. He knew that behind the smiles and laughter, behind the childsplay and parental praise, there was only violence. At least he had the balls to admit it, he thought to himself as he stared bitterly at the people around him. Once again, Toby had felt as though he was deemed nothing but a leper. Sick, cruel, rejected. The autumn heat was gentle as the warm rays danced on his pale skin. He couldn’t seem to take deep breaths, his chest felt like it was collapsing in on itself slowly. He didn’t understand why the park choked him, devoured him whole. Toby thought that it must have been because he was so close to the forest.

Suddenly, his maggot-filled train of thought came to a halt as Toby noticed a little boy awkwardly standing idle beside him. He grimaced as he looked over to the child, who was holding something in his hands.

“What do you want,” Toby muttered, looking annoyed at the presence of the boy. Without a word, the small, sickly looking youth placed a rock into Toby’s hand and then proceeded to run off back to his mother, who had been watching closely the entire time.

Confusion took over his initial repulsion as he glanced down to examine the gift. It was a regular rock, there was nothing special about it. Toby looked up once more, and watched as the young boy quietly clung to his mothers side, standing close towards her leg, not daring to play with the other kids. His mother chatted with another lady who had also brought her child to the playground that warm weekend afternoon, laughing over the latest gossip. Toby felt himself being overtaken by a feeling he hadn’t felt since that night on the porch with Jack, back in Mississippi. Something he didn’t have a name for. It felt like a heavy coat, or like a quiet prayer that somebody you love would linger in the doorway a bit longer before they took their leave. He squeezed the rock in his hand and tried to shake off the weight that washed over him and stood up, making his way back home.

The walk back to his house was quiet. The subtle ambience of nature and man mingled in a harmonized symphony; there was a pair of siblings putting out decorations for the quickly approaching Halloween, and a few cars whizzed past the boy. He tried not to think about what would’ve happened to them if they had met him while he was still branded with the mark of a proxy.

As he opened the front door, he noticed his mother humming along to the radio as she washed dishes and prepared for dinner. Neither of them said a word as the boy silently shuffled past, and headed into his room. Toby placed the rock the young boy had given him on the surface of his dresser, sitting it neatly beside the portrait of his family.

The following day, Toby found himself shopping with his mother, following her around mindlessly, lost in his own thoughts. As they passed the home renovation section, he eyed the axes locked onto the wall, ignoring most of what Connie had been saying to him. Something about how the pipe under the sink had been leaking, something about what to make for dinner. Something about a clock. Taken by surprise at the word, Toby’s heart skipped a beat, it nearly knocked the wind out of him.

“What?” He asked.

“We need to get you a new clock,” Connie repeated. Toby remembered that he had destroyed his previous one, and shook the shock off. The uneasiness took hold of him.

“No, it’ll be fine.”

On the drive back home, Toby had gotten himself excited over a box of candy he had bought for himself, though he knew deep down his sister would take half of it as soon as he took his eyes off of it. It was some sick revenge of hers for all of the years he would steal her Halloween candy. He looked out the window at all of the passing buildings of the city, listening to the music playing on the radio. As the song faded out and the next one chimed in, he immediately recognized the sound, and his heart dropped. Toby quickly scrambled to turn it off, feeling the same sense of dread squeezing his chest as he did in the store.

“What was that for? I thought you loved that band,” Connie asked, glancing over at her son who looked as if he was going to be sick.

“Not anymore.”

The band that had been playing was Three Days Grace, he had loved their music since their first album. The girl he knew as Natalie loved their music as well. It was something they typically bonded over. He would secretly try to impress her by stealing CDs or downloading their music onto his MP3 player. Toby hoped the car ride would end soon, he didn’t want to think about it anymore. He didn’t care for clocks, or Three Days Grace. He didn’t want anything to do with her, and insisted to himself that it was better off if she had died alongside that forest in the old world. There was little to no chance she had made it into the new world anyways, there was no use in dwelling.

Over the next few days, Toby asked his mother for homework to do to keep himself busy. She had printed out a large booklet on various math and sciences, which he had gotten a quarter way through. The boy sat at his desk, tapping his pencil against the table as he bounced his leg. He was never good at math or science. He hated all the rules and logistics. Toby couldn’t force his mind to focus on the nonsense questions as much as he wanted to. He stared down at his empty paper for a moment before looking up through his bedroom window, peering out at the dark nightly forest that draped around his backyard. There was a burning desire within him, like he was missing something. He was unable to stop his mind from wandering into the past again. Toby thought about Natalie, and the last time he had seen her. She had forced him to make a decision, that he would come with her and leave everything behind, to get out while they still could, or to stay in that forest and watch her as she left. Being the stubborn boy that he was, Toby told her off, shouted that she didn’t understand, demanded that she leave him anyways, because he was better off without her nagging. And she did. Without screaming, or fighting, she left him alone in that abandoned cabin that they had made into their wreckage of a home.

She didn’t want anything to do with him or the life he lived. Natalie wanted better for herself, and Toby knew that wasn’t realistic. He knew better than anyone that there is no life outside of the warzone. He knew the bitter truth that you cannot make a human being out of a weapon.

Toby groaned and leaned back into his seat. Even when she was gone, that girl haunted him. She tortured his sleep, overtook his thoughts. All he wanted now was to be free from her. And a small part of him only wanted to see her again. That small part quietly hoped that somehow, by some miracle, she wanted to see him again too.

“Haven’t you taken enough from me?” He whispered out quietly. Toby closed his weary eyes for a moment, and the only thing he could picture was how she looked when she was mad at him. The way she glared at him with her one good eye, the way her brows creased, her shoulders raised. The way she crossed her arms and scoffed. The tone of voice when she told him to shut up or to watch his mouth. Frustrated, Toby dropped his head onto his desk with a thud and grumbled to himself before lifting himself up and grabbing his cellphone.

He hesitated before punching in digits to a familiar phone number. It rang for a moment as Toby waited impatiently, until he heard a click as the man on the other end of the call picked up.

“Hey Brian, it’s me.”

“Toby? What do you want man, it’s past midnight,” Brian groaned, audibly having just been woken up.

“Do you have any information on Natalie? Where she grew up, where she might be?”

“Jesus christ, go to sleep.”

“I wouldn’t call you if it wasn’t important man, please just help me out,” Toby pleaded.

Brian sighed to himself for a moment, “I’ll figure something out for you tomorrow, alright? Get to bed already.”

Toby smiled victoriously to himself as he hung up the call, heading over to his bed. He thought to himself as he laid his head onto the pillow, that maybe, the girl would finally stop tormenting him if he saw her again and got the last word. The world around him was quiet as he drifted off to sleep.

That night, he fell into a dream where he sat on an old, stained and torn mattress in an abandoned cabin which was full of smoke. Beside him, sat Natalie.

“What’re you doing here, Toby?”

“I came here to see you Nat, I came all this way to find you.”

The two found themselves standing face to face in a snowy wasteland, smoke was rising from her mouth and draped around her face, covering her like a mask.

“Don’t you know how to leave me alone? I don’t ever want to see you again.” Mountains of ash and smog poured out as Natalie spoke. She turned around, and began to walk away from the boy, leaving bloody footprints as she left. Toby followed after her, but was weighed down by something, and could only drudge through the heavy snow as the distance between them grew further and further.

“Nat, come back! Fuck! Stop walking away, don’t be a pussy about this,” he shouted out. The girl's tall silhouette disappeared into the horizon, and Toby stood still in the snow, anger burning through him like a wildfire.

“Fuck you, you stupid bitch! You always do this shit, I’m fucking done with it!”

As he screamed out, Toby jolted awake, breathing heavy through the sting of lingering anger. His empty heart was beating fast as he placed a hand over his chest, falling back onto his bed. The sun began to rise, lightening the skies of dawn. He closed his eyes again as he fell back asleep.

Later in the morning, Toby awoke to a soft knock on his bedroom door, and his mother calling out that there’s someone on the phone for him. The boy quickly went over to grab the phone from her hand, closing his door behind him.

“Your mom sounds like a sweet lady,” Brian teased through the phone.

“Shut up dude. Do you have anything for me?” Toby asked, still half-asleep.

Brian told the boy that he had found a ‘Natalie Ouellette’ residing in a small town in North Dakota, but that he couldn’t confirm she’s the one that Toby was looking for.

“Thanks, you’re the best.”

“I know.”

Toby ended the call and quickly scribbled down the information Brian provided before it slipped his mind. He decided that he was going to take the chance and head to North Dakota as soon as he could. There was no more time to be wasted. To him, it was comparable to a bandaid that needed to be ripped off.

Toby sat at the dinner table later that evening, picking at his food as he listened to his sister share about her day at work. He had already begun to pack his bag, and mapped out a route to take. He wanted to be gone by the end of the week, and didn’t know how to break the news to his family.

“Uh, mom… I know I just got back home, but I have an old friend I need to visit in North Dakota,” Toby mumbled to himself, staring down at his plate of food to avoid the looks his mother and sister were giving him. Connie raised an eyebrow at the boy as Lyra glanced over at him, taking another bite of her dinner slowly.

“She’s a good friend of mine, and I-”

“She?” Lyra blurted out, mouth full of food. Toby looked up at his mother, who gave Lyra a nudge to mind her manners.

“What’s her name?” Connie said, interlocking her fingers and feigning excitement.

“Uh… Natalie.”

“You met her before right? She’s not just some creepy old guy you met on the net?” Lyra asked, leaning into the conversation.

“Yes Lyra, she’s a real person. Is it really so hard to believe I have a friend who’s a girl? Jesus you guys.”

“No no sweetie, it’s not that. Just, wow, all the way up north? She must be a very good friend,” his mother spoke as she continued to work at her food. Toby furrowed his brow as he ate.

“Yeah. She’s my best friend.”

After an awkwardly long dinner, Lyra went into her room, and Connie continued the conversation with her boy as they cleaned off the table.

“When are you leaving?” She asked softly.

“I was hoping sometime tomorrow, or the day after.”

His mothers eyes widened with a hint of sorrow.

“That soon? How are you getting there?”

“Probably just hitch hike,” Toby said as he placed the last of his dishes into the sink.

“You know, aunt Lori almost got killed doing that.”

“I’ll be fine mom, I know how to handle myself.”

As Toby attempted to brush his mother off, she put her foot down and stood in front of him, placing a wad of cash from her purse into his hands and squeezing.

“Use this money for a train and something to eat, please.”

“I don’t want your money, I promise I’ll be fine.”

“Please Toby, you know my heart can’t take anymore worrying.”

Toby looked into his mothers pleading eyes and took the money, nodding a thank you as he turned to his bedroom for one last sleep in his own bed. He wasn’t sure when he would be back home, he never liked to plan too much.

Lyra leaned over towards Toby, who was sitting in the passenger's seat of the car while their mother drove. It was a spot Lyra usually sat in, but Toby had claimed rights to the seat as it was his ‘going away present’. She pestered him about the trip from the backseat, the boy's bag sitting beside her. He quietly prayed to himself that no one would notice the hatchet residing inside of his backpack.

“Take some pics for me once you get there. My friend has family in North Dakota and she said the scenery is nice,” Lyra requested, which Toby agreed to.

Once they reached the train station, the boy grabbed his bag and threw it over his shoulder. He gave his sister a side hug, and a quick goodbye. Connie tried her best to contain herself as she stood composed in front of her son. It wasn’t easy for her to accept that her little boy was grown up now. Toby reached for his mother and brought her into a tight hug, letting the embrace linger on a bit longer than usual.

“You be safe, and you know I’m just a call away if you need anything, and don’t forget to watch your health, and be careful. If you need me to send you more money or clean clothes or-”

“I’ll be alright, mom. I mean it. The trains gonna leave soon,” Toby interrupted his mothers worried ramble as he squeezed her hand in a bittersweet goodbye.

“Goodbye sweetie, I love you” she said softly, squeezing his hand back.

“I love you too.”

Toby took his seat on the train and held his bag closely beside him as it began to move slowly down the tracks. Staring out the window, he watched his sister wave wildly at him as he passed, which he awkwardly waved back to before his family fell out of view. He chuckled silently to himself as he reclined into his seat. The countryside was beautiful this time of year. Dense forests painted with rust and sunset danced along the tracks, occasionally he’d spot a deer or a coyote. He had never been on a train before, nor had he ever been up north. Toby thought back to his time with Jack, and the paintings that he had made which hung up on his wall. It was as if they both had been discovering the new world in their own ways. Then, he thought about what Tim had told him, that this world was a fresh start for all of them, a second chance. As he looked out at the world passing by him, for a moment, he almost believed it.

#tombwrites #tombfic #creepypasta #ticci toby #creepypasta fandom #creepypasta headcanon #ticci toby headcanons #toby rogers #creepypasta ticci toby #ticci toby fanfiction #ticci toby fanfic #ticci toby creepypasta #creepypasta fanfiction #creepypasta fanfic #ticci toby headcanon

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the-force-awakens · 3 months

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Thoughts on Poe and his relationship with the force? For me, especially in the comics, it's always been one of the most interesting explorations of a non-force user connecting deeply with the force. I keep coming back to Poe's speech at L'ulo's funeral and just sit in awe of the writing for a good for minutes.

Oh, I have so many thoughts on Poe and his relationship with the Force, and a lot of them always go back to that scene in the comics, and something Oscar said in an interview ahead of the Force Awakens:

He knows about Luke and Han. But his family - he comes from a long line of rebel fighters, as well. So he’s committed totally to the Resistance. He believes in the Force. (source)

So, one thing that they seemed to have landed on from the get-go, is that Poe believes in the Force - enough that, y'know, he mentions it as part of his speech at L'ulo's funeral, and one thing stands out to me:

These days, we don't talk about the Force that much. I don't know if it's gone out of fashion, or if it's just harder to see around us. It was different for me growing up. We used to tell stories about the Force all the time.

Which sounds to me like 'believing' in the Force here, doesn't just mean Poe knows it exists, but that he possibly believes in it the way Lor San Tekka and the Church of the Force might - like it's part of Poe's religion. I mean, consider how excited he is to meet Lor San Tekka, and how much Tekka knows - the Force means a lot to Poe, and shapes his worldview.

The rest of my thoughts are technically not disproven by canon, but are the kind of extrapolation that's definitely more "headcanon" than anything:

I think Poe's relationship with the Force is interesting because of how much the Force is seeped into his story, and not just in the sense that Poe believes in the Force in a seemingly religious way: there's the fact that Poe first hears Leia in Free Fall, just outside/around a set of old religious ruins (because Kijimi used to be a religious site, back when). There's the fact that we meet Poe in a village filled with people who do worship the Force, and that it's canon (or semi-canonical) that Poe taps into it on Takodana while flying.

(I think Poe taps into it a lot, actually, if we look at how uncannily intuitive he can be...or the way he can easily dodge blaster fire while running into battle....or how in tune he can be with his wingmen - there's a shot in TLJ of him moving in perfect synchronicity with C'ai, during the briefing with Holdo, that I never noticed. Poe does it with more people than just Finn, apparently, and that fascinates me.)

But I also find it...particularly interesting that Poe is present (or nearby) a lot of the times when Force Sensitives first tap into the Force. He's in the village when Finn connects to it for the first time properly (I'm assuming that's the moment, anyway, since Ren has such a profound reaction to Finn), and - well Rey's a little more shaky, since he's vaguely sort of around, flying on Starkiller, when she fully embraces the Force. But then in Terrifying Tales, he's there when Dean connects to it for the first time as well....

I don't think Poe is properly Force Sensitive, I don't see him being able to lift anything, or stuff like that. But I think the Force loves him, and I think it might get a little stronger around him (hence the above with the Force Sensitives). The Force does just...move strangely around him, I think - he grew up with a Force-sensitive tree in his back yard, he's the right hand of one of the last Jedi in the galaxy (even if she quit training), he's tapped into the Force before while flying (probably more than once, if we're being honest, considering no one in the gffa flies anything remotely like Poe), and there's the very interesting scene in TLJ that - sure, proves that Poe is as good a tactician and leader as Leia - has Poe and Leia come up with the same plan, at the same exact time, from opposite ends of the ship...which is then immediately followed up with Leia having a Force Bond moment with Ren.

And then there's the torture scene. Ren doesn't go easy on him. In the novelization, it's described as "silent agony". In Battlefront II, we see precisely what it's like for the person on the receiving end, and Del does give up the information that Ren needs. In Kenobi, we see Reva get what she needs within seconds.

Ren doesn't...get anything from Poe. According to a Topps Card:

Kylo Ren tortures Poe Dameron in an attempt to extract any information about the Resistance's plans and the map to locate Skywalker. Poe manages to keep the location of the Resistance base a secret, but is in so much pain, he cannot mask his thoughts about BB-8 having the information [source].

By all rights, according to what we've seen in Star Wars and of non-Force Sensitives being interrogated for information...Poe shouldn't have been able to keep anything from Ren. But he did, even while under excruciating agony. Consider how many Resistance secrets are in Poe's head - he knows not just the location of the base, but likely the location of most of their spies considering that Resistance shows that Poe is the one to keep contact with them.

And there's the fact that Poe's torture is something that canonically reverberates throughout the Force, since Ezra hears his voice in the World Between Worlds episode of Star Wars Rebels ("The Resistance will not be intimidated by you").

So, I don't know. I think Poe worships the Force, and I definitely don't think he's a passive agent to it, I do think that he influences it to some degree, and that it influences him to some degree. I think the Force loves Poe right back, and that push and pull dynamic is so interesting to me when so many of the people in his life are Force Sensitive....

and it's utterly heartbreaking to consider that Poe's first experience with it, was on Jakku and the Finalizer, assuming Leia had never used it around him before (which I do find a little doubtful, and I like to think he's seen her do some Force stuff before, but if we wanna go the angsty route lmao...), and that something that he loves and worships, and possibly loves him right back, was then weaponized against him.

#ask box #galacticwildfire #my meta #poe dameron #i just!!! think!!! poe and the force!!! is interesting as hell!!!!! is all!!!#he's so in awe when he sees rey in tlj #and then i also find it so interesting that he looks /concerned/ when she holds back the transport in tros #almost like he knows something *isn't* right about it this time #i am forever rotating this man and his relationship with the force around in my brain ough

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