#it looks horrible on the tag but i promise if you click on them the gifs are better

[floo-network]

Slytherin Common Room - Hogwarts Legacy - Tour the Slytherin Common Room video

#had to redo these gifs twice :´) #my gifs #hogwarts legacy #slytherin #slytherin common room #video games #it looks horrible on the tag but i promise if you click on them the gifs are better

[jasntodds]

Scars [J.T.]

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Summary: Jason lets you trace over his y scar

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, scars, mentions of death, bruises, cuts, general minor injuries, hurt/comfort

Words: 1,765

A/n: I just wanted something a little soft for once. If you wanna be tagged in my fics, you can click the link below, send me an ask/comment, or follow my library blog @jasntoddslibrary and turn on notifications if you prefer that!!

masterlist | request info | tag list

Jason carries the weight of every horrible, traumatic, and agonizing event that’s ever happened to him across his body, etched in pale and raised lines across him like a used roadmap. He wears them as cruel reminders that this life is unfair and unjust, even when he tries his hardest to make it so. There are some he pays no mind to, and doesn’t even really notice most days because they are there. That’s that. But, there are others…there are others he looks at as a punishment for everything he’s ever done and everything he never was and could never be. They’re reminders, laughing back at him every day, a sinister echo of his mistakes.

Most days, he tries to pay them no mind, either.

You’re sitting on your knees right beside Jason, his side pressed against the bare skin of your calf. Your eyes are trained on his exposed abdomen, showcasing the scars and cuts and bruises he’s collected over the last few years.

It wasn’t that seeing his body covered in new and old injuries was jarring. That was mostly fine. After the first few weeks of being friends, it stopped being jarring because that's just how it is with Jason. He gets hurt sometimes. It comes with the job and you accept that part of him. The bruises and cuts were very rarely ever jarring. The other scars were never really jarring because of course he has them. That always made sense to you. It's the autopsy scar that is jarring.

With the others, he'd told you it comes with the job and then he'd watch your face contort into a scrunch of worry and paranoia over his well-being, something he doesn't think he deserves most days. When the comment didn't ease your worry, he'd kiss you and give his signature cocky grin, a silent promise that he's fine and the conversation would end. The autopsy scar conversation is never so simple.

You knew he died because he told you not long before you made things official. You knew the story about the Joker and his mom. He told you of the horrid night and bits of pieces of the after. But this is your first time seeing the physical damage of the night that still wakes him up in the middle of the night. Your chest aches for him and it's jarring because he did die and he has to carry that kind of weight forever, something you'll swear until the day you die he doesn't deserve.

With delicate fingers, you trace over the long line of the autopsy scar, Jason’s eyes glancing from your hand to your face. His stomach tenses with the movement and you can’t tell if it’s because your hands are cold, it tickles, or he’s uncomfortable. If you know Jason, you’re kind of figuring it’s the third option. So, you glance back to him, chewing the inside of your cheek.

“This okay?” You ask softly.

“It’s fine.” Jason answers, his thumb lightly brushing over your thigh furthest away from him. “Bother you?”

Jason has been cautious not to show you because he knows how he feels about it. He knows that you worry. Seeing some sort of proof of death seems like it might send you spiraling into some sort of tornado of worry until you spin too far away from him. He's been cautious because he adores you and he doesn't want to lose you and he doesn't want it scare you.

You look back to the scar, tracing over it again. “No.” You answer quietly. It hurts your chest because it happened to him. It happened to him and nothing in this world could ever justify the torture and pain he's been through. It doesn't bother you because it is a part of him and you adore him with every beat your heart drums. “Bothers you though.”

Jason’s brows pull together. “How’d you figure?” There’s the slightest bit of a bite in his words like a scared puppy, a default reaction to being seen.

“Why wouldn’t it?” The question leaves your lips freely with unfiltered candor.

Seeing it for the first time, yeah it bothered him. It bothered him because what was the point? It wasn’t some mystery how he died. Maybe it was just legal reasons bullshit that Jason doesn’t care about. Though, he does fully understand that maybe if he hadn’t come back, he wouldn’t care. Or if it had healed, he wouldn’t care. So, that’s something he can’t really blame Bruce for. Instead, it’s that it’s there. Looking back at him in the mirror. Staring up at him when he looks down. It’s always there. It’s as if he was cut open and the weight of death and punishment and regret scattered over his organs and bones, making sure he understands the weight of his own consequences. He just can’t quite shake it and the scar is the reminder.

"I guess." Jason lets out this shaky breath as his stomach tenses below your fingertips.

"It's okay if it bothers you, Jay." You assure him. "I'd bother me if I were you but..." You pause for just a second, pressing an open palm over some of the raised edges of the scar as your eyes are locked on his. "I hope it doesn't bother you too much because you got to live and I don't care what the other bats thought about it at first because I'm glad you got to come back. And you deserve to let the weight off your shoulders for once." Your eyes go back to the scar and trace up the line from the center of his stomach up to the right side of his chest.

Jason's thumb is rubbing lightly against your skin and he wonders why you make it seem so simple. No part of him thinks you believe it's simple but there's something in the way that you say it that almost gives Jason some sort of faith in the idea of it. That maybe there is a day where it won't feel like he's carrying the weight of the world. Maybe there is a day someday where he won't feel the aching and longing of his bones. You offer him tenderness and kindness when the majority of his life has been nothing but skinned knees and broken hearts.

That feels terrifying, too but...maybe he's tired of running away from things because they're good for him. And good to him.

Seeing the autopsy scar for the first time bothered him. Seeing it yesterday bothered him. But, at this exact point in time with your fingers running along the tattered edges, it doesn’t bother him so much.

“Thank you.” Jason holds his words steady with a sort of caution at the edges. "It's not bothering me now." His voice is quiet as his eyes glance to you and then back to your fingers on his skin.

He is entirely exposed to you now. There’s no going back even if that is absolutely terrifying. Jason keeps himself guarded to protect himself and protect everyone else around him. But, you make letting the guard down a little bit easier. You’re tender and delicate with him, two things no one ever is. At no point have you ever thought less of him for the things he’s done and things he’s seen, or the things that rip his body to shreds. You take him as he is and offer him understanding and kindness, two things Jason has been desperate to get from anyone. And he is so thankful for you.

“Good.” Your voice is quiet before your stare goes back to the scar. “I hope it never bothers you again.”

Jason sits up, closing some of the distance between you while you rest your hands in your lap. His eyes run over your face slowly while the corner of his mouth is pinched barely upwards. He looks content. He looks comfortable. His heart is beating a mile a minute as it’s about to run through his ribs. There’s something fluttering against it, something that feels warm and welcoming in the beating of his heart. There’s something that makes his breathing unsteady without ever sucking the air from his lungs. There is something that feels comfortable and like a home he didn’t think he’d ever find.

Jason leans forward, resting his forehead against yours and your entire body relaxes in that instant. He pulls away, pressing a kiss to your nose and then to your cheek before he rests his head in the crook of your neck. You turn your head and press a kiss to his temple before your hands come to his cheeks to pick his head up.

His eyes lock on your eyes and you adore him. You adore him for all that he is today. The scars never really bothered you because they hold him together. All of them have a story that has led Jason Todd to who he is today. They are proof that he is alive. They are proof that even when he was hurt, even when he was murdered, he is alive. The air can be pulled into his lungs and oxygen will circulate through his cells again. He is alive. The autopsy scar is just further proof to you because he shouldn’t have been brought back but he was. And that was for a reason. That scar is just another piece of proof he is meant to be here. It is another mark of how he got here today and you, for one, are eternally thankful that he is here today.

Your thumbs are running over his cheeks and Jason swears he has never felt so wanted by anyone. And he doesn’t feel so damn alone in the world anymore. He feels important and he only hopes he makes you feel the same way. He can only hope you understand how much you mean to him and that he is just as important to you.

Your lips come to his and he melts into your touch as he kisses you back. His hand comes up to the back of your head to pull you in closer. And he thinks he might do everything in his power to have more moments like these with you. You can trace his scars and he can tell you about them and you can exist in the bubble where it is only the two of you. You can trace his scars and he can run his fingers along your thigh and you both can feel wanted and important. And loved.

Tag List: @jasontoddsmentaldisorders // @purplerose291 // @lovelessamai  // @makaelaseresin // @lenidaslenchen // @mayfieldss // @ghostkingblake // @dgraysonss // @im-done-with-this-im-out // @velvetskies // @vivian-555 // @kebonita // @deyja-the-duck // @jasontoddslover // @captainmarvels-blog // @totallynotkaibiased // @scarlovesyou // @whydoyoucare866 // @littlemeowmeow1000 // @septixtrash // @kplatzman // @killxz // @achromaticerebus // @lovefks // @kolpvii

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #red hood x reader #red hood x you #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #dc fanfic #dc fanfiction

[xcherricutie]

🥀 other friends 🥀

[Lucifer Morningstar x Reader]

[Part One] [Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four]

[Word Count - 2.5k]

[Tags: Angst, songfic, canon typical violence]

[Notes: This was a bit more difficult to write than drift away, action scenes aren't really my forte. Also, there are mentions of Adam becoming a demon, its a bit of setup for a potential one shot relating to this series soon. I think it'd be fun to do a little series of Steven Universe song one shots within the canon these one shots have set up. Not promising anything, but it would be fun to try]

“The Hazbin Hotel is now officially open! Come stay with us for a chance to have your soul redeemed, and earn your place in Heaven!” 

The video flickered ever so slightly, the television displaying the image of Charlie Morningstar, princess of Hell, for both angels and demons alike to see. As the video played, Charlie giving more details about her hotel, a trio of angels looked on, the seraphims keeping their eyes glued on the ancient angel before them. You. 

Upon finding your near lifeless body standing in the abandoned Garden of Eden, Sera and Emily quickly took you into their care. You could hardly pay them any mind since Sera had told you of Lucifer’s fate, of the curse he had put on himself. He had become the Devil, the sin of pride. He had cheated on you and left you for Lilith, who he soon had a child with. The girl on the screen before you happened to be said child. The very personification of Lucifer’s betrayal. 

Your blood boiled at the sight. You had demanded information from Sera, someone you had once considered a friend. You knew she was innocent in all of this, but you could not help your anger at the fact that not only had she let Charlie into Heaven, but was working with her to redeem the sinners that Lucifer had been the cause of in the first place. He was the reason sin and chaos existed in humanity in the first place. You were mad that things had spiraled to this point, you were mad that this was apparently how the story ended. 

No. You wouldn’t have it this way. If you had known just how good Lucifer was having it now after what he did to you, you would have rather stayed ignorant of everything. Perhaps even rather let the garden claim your body, than be here, in this horrible reality. But you were here, and now, you were going to change the ending of this story. You intended to have your happy ending, at any price. 

A soft hum filled the long, glowing halls of the Hazbin Hotel, the sounds of shoes tapping with each step accompanying the hum. With a twirl of his staff, and an adjustment of his top hat, the man entered the grand entrance hall of the lobby, where everyone, including his daughter, waited. His heels clicking as he came to a stop, Lucifer stood atop the steps, looking down at everyone with a smile, his daughter catching his attention right away. 

“Dad! There you are!” Charlie exclaimed, running up the steps. Lucifer raised a brow in confusion, meeting her halfway as he walked down the steps. 

“Charlie? What’s the matter?” Lucifer asked, curious. Surely, their newest resident hadn’t already started causing trouble, right? Lucifer knew the man would be uncomfortable here, but surely Adam wasn’t jumping straight into causing chaos, hopefully. 

Charlie grabbed her father by the wrist, dragging him down the stairs, towards the small crowd of people standing in the doorway. Lucifer immediately noted the uncomfortable, even downright fearful look in their faces, even Adam seemingly upset, or at the very least, startled. His attention was whipped to whatever had caused their discomfort, his eyes widening at the sight. 

“Tears in the sky are appearing all over, and they’re clearly from Heaven,” Charlie spoke, pointing up at the rip that had begun to appear over the hotel, the golden outline of the tear drawing attention. More rips and tears dotted the skies of Hell, all across the pride ring. A soft, white light shone from inside, though nothing else seemed to come through. 

“I thought Heaven agreed to back off, I-I don’t understand,” Charlie grabbed her hair by the roots, pulling tightly. She felt the calming hand of her girlfriend, Vaggie, on her shoulder, but it did little to soothe her anxiety. 

Vaggie huffed, glaring up at the sky, clenching her angelic spear tightly in her other hand. “Well, you know how Heaven can be. They might’ve decided they’re too good for us.” 

But that didn’t seem right. Not to Lucifer at least. He knew Sera. Even if she had intended to betray them, she would’ve gone about it in a more subtle way. This seemed far more... personal. Almost as if they wanted to be seen, to catch the attention of something. Lucifer tried to piece together just what was going on, and just what he should do about it. 

His eyes widened as he noticed the rip just above the hotel widen, and something, someone, coming through. The hair on his neck suddenly stood on end, the light masking the angel, hiding their face and casting a large silhouette over the hotel. 

“Hey!” A loud, booming voice suddenly yelled, Lucifer nearly jumping in his skin. He could clearly see the ethereal glow of their eyes, and the snarl that pulled on their lips. “Are you Charlotte Morningstar?” 

“Um...” Charlie sweat nervously, putting on her best friendly smile, silently begging that maybe they were a friendly angel. But she knew that wasn’t the case, not if this was their entrance. “Yes?” 

Their lips curled upward into a smirk, grinning down at her. “Perfect.” 

Their wings curled into their back, disappearing in a burst of golden magic. Dropping to the ground, they landed just before the hotel with a loud thud, bright blue eyes turning up to look at them, crinkling at the edges as they grinned maniacally. You finally made it into Hell. 

Letting out a sinister chuckle, you stood up straight, nearly bursting at the seams with excitement. “Well, well, well, well, well! Let me get a look at the menagerie!” 

Your eyes, glowing almost ominously, roved over the group before you. Each and every person, you studied meticulously, you knew exactly which ones were of no concern, which one would stand up for the hotel, which ones you would kill. 

“You must Vaggie,” Your eyes landed on the fallen angel, watching as she visibly flinched at the sound of her name coming from your mouth. You moved onto the next one, smirking. “You must be Alastor,” 

Alastor’s eyes narrowed at you, curiosity and even a hint of worry eating at him. Something didn’t seem right about any of this. This wasn’t like the other angelic attacks, no, this seemed far more malicious. He didn’t fail to notice the horror written plainly across the Demon King’s face either, especially as your eyes finally landed on him. Lucifer. 

“And Lucifer, the King of Hell, wow! She keeps you here, isn’t that just swell?” You rolled your eyes in annoyance, your grin ever present as you tensed. You knew Lucifer was in and out of the hotel, but you had hoped to catch Charlie in a moment of vulnerability. Not that it mattered in the end, they were all going to suffer the same fate. You’d already decided how this would end. 

“I-It can’t be...” Lucifer stuttered, nearly stumbling backward, his heart thudding in his chest, drumming loudly in his ears. You let out a string of laughter, your eyes watering at the sight of his trembling frame. This was all so perfect. 

“Oh, but it can be. And it is!” You ran your fingers through your hair, watching as Lucifer’s fearful gaze was drawn to the charcoal color of your hands, as if you had been burnt, the off coloration seeping down your arms, into your skin. Purple lines streaked through your arms, your fingers more resembling claws than hands now. “I got a new style, and a few new toys that are gonna put an end to your happily ever after, once and for all!” 

“Woah, woah!” Charlie jumped to the front, holding her hands out defensively. “This has gotta be a misunderstanding! In case you haven’t heard, I’ve established peace with the Heavens—” 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’ve heard,” You snapped, glaring at Charlie, who flinched. You clenched your fist, raising it as you glanced at it, before smirking at Charlie. “I’ve had your little message to the Heavens, on loop!” 

A ball of light formed in your hand, your grin stretching across your face as you threw it Charlie. The demon’s eyes widened, letting out a startled cry as it hit her square in the chest, skidding across the grass, tripping on the steps of the hotel entrance. Lucifer was immediately at her side, checking her for injuries, shooting you a dark glare. You giggled, however, your grin leaning on maniacal as your eyes glowed. 

“I just love that part, where Lucifer spends the rest of his days in this nowhere realm, with a bunch of nobodies!” 

Something in you finally snapped, rushing at Charlie. She let out a startled scream as you grabbed her by her ankles, yanking her out of Lucifer’s caring hold, standing her up straight as you danced around with her, flinging her left and right. 

“That’s right, I heard the story over and over again,” You sung cheerfully, spinning Charlie out of your grip, turning your anger on Vaggie as she flew at you, spear pointed to your heart. 

Grabbing the spear handle, the tip just barely pressing into your chest, you flung Vaggie, giggling all the while. “Gee, it’s swell to finally meet his other friends!” 

You watched as the cat demon, Husk, tried to attack, a pitiful attempt in your opinion. You grabbed him by his wings, pulling him up and pulling his feet out from under him, dropping him on the ground. “That’s right, I heard the story, don’t really like how it ends!” 

A tall, spider-like demon, Angel Dust, rushed to Husk’s rescue, yelling as he barreled towards you. You grinned as you sidestepped him, watching as he tripped over Husk. “Gee, it’s swell to finally meet his other friends!” 

Your attention zoned back in on Charlie, who was still trying to gather her wits. Grabbing her by her wrists, your pair of wings flapped behind you as you flew into the air. Charlie cried out in alarm as you tossed her upward, grabbing her by her ankles and dangling her around. “What did he say about me, what did he say?” 

Dropping Charlie, she landed with a thud as you whipped over to Vaggie, grabbing her by her waist and spinning round and round. “What did you do without me, what did you do~?” 

Throwing Vaggie, you turned your attention to the demon who had been narrowly managing to avoid you, Alastor. You grabbed him just before he could melt into the shadows, pulling him up off the ground as you held him by his waist, looking up at him with big, deceivingly innocent eyes. “Did you play games without me? What did you play?” 

Releasing him just before he could retaliate, your wings flapped as you dodged each oncoming attack with ease, gliding towards your true victim. “Did you think all this time that I wouldn’t find out about you!?” 

Your wings spread out, your blue eyes glowing as you floated just before the Devil himself, grinning madly, as if excited. Lucifer flinched under your cold gaze, completely frozen in place. However, he found himself being ripped from his place as silky golden ribbons poured from your hands, wrapping around Lucifer, around each and every sinner and demon. With a flap of your wings, you yanked the ribbons, pulling them together as they smashed into one another. 

“Oh, that’s right I heard the story over and over again, gee it’s swell to finally meet his other friends...” You landed on the roof of the hotel entrance, giggling at the sight of the demons before you scrambling to get their bearings. 

“She’s running circles around us!” Husk hissed, clawed hand running through the fur on his head. Angel scoffed, sitting up as he rubbed his pained arms. 

“I’m rusty, give me a break!” He grumbled, pushing himself up. 

As everyone stood up, one demon remained, stuck on the ground. It felt as though the whole world was spinning, threatening to uproot everything good in his life. Karma certainly was a bitch. “I-It really is her. But she can’t be serious...” 

“You know her, dad!? Can you tell us who she is?” Charlie asked, looking to her father with worry. She had never seen him look so utterly terrified. 

Charlie’s words made the thin thread of patience within you snap. You grit your teeth, blood boiling, your skin burning, your hands aching, aching to squeeze the life out of them. “Who am I!? Who am I? What are you even saying!?” 

You stomped down toward the edge, your shadow casting over them in the glowing lights of the hotel. “I’m the loser of the game you didn’t know you were playing!” 

But this was different. This time, you wouldn’t lose. Your lips twitched, curling into a shaky smirk, nerves fried and emotions haywire. “Let’s play another game! This time, I’ve got to win!” 

A burst of light from your palm startled Lucifer, the light turning into a long staff, almost electrifying. A blade formed at the top in the shape of a scythe, the glow of your angelic power combined with the ominous glow of your eyes offputting. 

“Lives on the line, winner takes all, ready or not, let’s begin!” 

With a flap of your wings, you flew at the demons, watching as they jumped to dodge you. You let out a burst of laughter, slamming your foot into the gut of one of the demons, flinging them across the hotel yard. Another demon jumped at you, the handle of your scythe smashing into them, knocking them into the others. 

“Oh, that’s right, I heard the story over and over again, gee it’s swell to finally beat his other friends!” You sang happily, grabbing the arm of Vaggie and throwing her just before she could attempt an attack. Vaggie cried out as she crashed into the ground, battered and bruised. 

“Oh, that’s right, I heard the story, don’t really like how it ends!” 

You shoved demons aside, throwing them around, all the while Lucifer could only watch. He could only watch as you terrorized his friends, and you were reveling in it. The tables had finally turned, and now, he was playing your game. 

“Gee, it’s swell to finally beat his other,” You flew around, dodging demons, zoning in on one demon in particular. This was it. “Other...” 

“Other friends!” 

Your scythe sliced clean through Charlie’s waist, the angelic weapon leaving a trail of gold through her body. Charlie’s eyes widened, a silent scream stuck in her throat, her vision blotting and clouding. The last thing she saw was the horror in her father’s eyes as he stood before her, completely frozen, unable to move. 

Charlie collapsed to the ground, the golden trail healing like a scar, almost as if it hadn’t cut through her at all. You giggled as Vaggie rushed to Charlie’s side, the other demons shortly behind her as they checked to make sure she was still alive. Your eyes remained on Lucifer, his body deathly still, as if he weren’t even breathing. He wasn’t. Because he knew exactly what you’d done. 

“Don’t worry, Luci,” You called out, a wicked grin spread across your face, as if knowing exactly what was going through his mind. “I didn’t kill her. I simply hit her with my divine light. I do wonder what would happen to a half demon being filled with angelic light...” 

You had already won.

#lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin lucifer #hazbin x reader #lucifer x you #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer #charlie morningstar #Spotify

[muneca-lemon-steppa]

Interviews for New Beginnings: Part 4

Alfie Solomons x Fem!Reader, 3.1k words

Warnings: talking about home fire, cursing, talking about trauma

A/N: Hi everyone! This chapter is a little different. It's more about developing our characters, understanding what exactly is going on, and setting it up for later events. I'm sorry if this isn't particularly exciting, but I feel like this was necessary for the storyline I'm going down? I don't know, if you guys have thoughts lemme know! As always, I love hanging out with you all on here. It is so much fun, and it's just a reprieve and joy. And if you're finding this for the first time hello!! If you want to catch the first parts just click the tags that say Interviews for New Beginnings, and itll all be there! I promise I'm going to make a masterlist! I just don't know how to hyperlink and it's stressing me out. Anyway I'm sorry I talk so much! Love you guys! - Mo

The tailor shop was not always your family’s tailor shop. When your mother and father first immigrated to Camden, it was the one shop that agreed to hire them. Mr. Kahn was the originator, an older gentleman with large round glasses, the most illustrious beard you’ve ever seen, and the most soothing voice. When he saw the the pitiful young couple that would one day be your parents, he not only opened the doors of his shop, but his arms and his heart and his home.

Your father had been a tailor by trade in his home country, and quickly picked up the new skills and tricks that Mr. Kahn had so generously gifted. Mr. Kahn had no children himself, and his whole family had to stay in his own country as well. Like two lonely ships at sea your parents and Mr. Kahn found each other, and built a a new family. He was there for the birth of you and Eli and your brother, and there for the arrival of your grandparents. And when he passed away, he gave the shop and the home above the shop to your family, his other family. In honor of Mr. Kahn, your father and uncle kept the name Kahn’s and Sons. Though people knew you weren’t the technical Kahn Sons, everyone gave their regards to the beautiful picture of Mr. Kahn that hung in the front. His bright and shining smile and twinkling eyes kept watch over the shop, your family, and anyone who crossed the threshold. Anyone who looked at the painting smiled, remembering his gentle voice and his grand laughter.

That painting is the only thing that survives the flames.

As the sky turns a pale white, all that can be heard above the shocked voice and the rises smoke are the screams and wails of your mother, screaming and asking God why why why? Your aunt and grandmother holding her and weeping as well, praying and begging for an answer. You sister Esther on your hip keeps whispering, “What happened? What happened to our store sissy?”

And you have no answer. You have nothing in your chest but a numb buzzing, and acid in your throat. You feel hot hot tears making canyons in the ash that covers your face. You see Eli, your father, uncle, brother, grandfather, and other neighbors trying to move out any molten machines from the wreckage. When you make eye contact with Eli, he just shakes his head, tears having wiped the majority of the ash away. He looks at you as if yo say, “I don’t even know why we keep looking.”

Esther begins to cry, the smoke bothering her eyes, and you just begin to rock her and walk down the street to take her away from the wreckage. No child should have to see something so horrible as this.

People begin to stop and ask what happened. Who did this? Why Kahn’s? Why your father’s shop? You just walked past them. How would you know? How could anyone know? All you knew is that your sister was crying and coughing too hard. You just needed to get away. You just needed to get away. Just away.

On the other side of Camden, Alfie Solomons walks in to the office, after a long night of praying and bargaining for his secretary to be at her desk when he came in.

Despite his pleas, he is not surprised to see that her desk has been untouched, the stove has not been lit, and the air is too cold to breathe in. He rubs his face roughly, more for punishment than for comfort, and caresses the calendar on the abandoned desk, before tenderly picking it up and taking it to his own desk. Alfie found himself soon flipping through those wrinkled and pressed pages. Noticing the arrows and tiny scribbles on your near penmanship. As he further explores he finds himself chuckling lowly at the small characters of Tommy, Ollie, and even him and Cyril. He notes the repetition of his own name, with a small delicate heart over the i. He nearly completely smudges away the small heart with his tracings when Ollie knocks him back to Camden, “Uhm Alfie…”

“What?”

And that’s when he noticed it… the silence. There were people in the bakery, same amount as usual all doing what the need to do. But he heard… nothing. It was silent. All he could hear were the scuffing thuds of work boots against worn down floor boards, and the moaning creaks of barrels being turned over. Alfie got up from his desk, brushed passed Ollie to look at his men. But they weren’t his men. These were phantoms wearing the clothes of his men. “What the fuck is wrong with them?”

Ollie tenderly stepped behind Alfie, “Alfie… there was a fire last night…”

The blood in his heart immediately froze. His lungs shrank in his chest, and the air was suddenly sucked out of the room. “Where?” Alfie asked, though he already knew.

“Kahn’s… Alfie it’s scorched.”

Alfie couldn’t even finish listening. He had to go. He had to go. Damn the secrecy. Damn what your family knew or didn’t know. Damn what the men would think, seeing him run to see if his w… secretary was hurt. That didn’t matter. The Mad Baker be damned. “Ollie. Get the car. Grab two men from downstairs. We’re going to Kahn’s now. NOW!”

Though the drive to your home from the office was merely 20 minutes, a drive he knew well, it felt as though it took years off his life. The closer the car got, the denser the crowds of people were. The more clearly he could see the dissipating smoke and ash.

When Alfie was a young child, he struggled with fear. Thunder sent him under the covers, loud fights sent him behind his mothers skirts. The dark petrified him, necessitating two candles to defend him from nightmares. This fear followed him through childhood until he was 10, when he was assigned to give a small speech in front of his class. Poor young Alfie Solomons, so terrified of the 20 pairs of eyes that stared at him, that he threw up. He fled in tears away from the gasps and laughter, and back into the arms of his mother. There he wept profusely, embarrassed but mostly angry about how cowardly he thought of himself. His mother, hushing and consoling him, was broken-hearted at her son’s agony. Her only child. Her pride and joy. “Ahhh varóbushik. You know… it is not bad to be afraid… fear is not a sin my love.”

His eyes, ocean like in his tears looked up at his mother, “But I need to be brave. Like papa was.”

She smiled softly, “Mm yes papa was very brave. But you know… bravery isn’t the absence of fear… no it’s… it’s surviving even when you are afraid. It’s doing what you are afraid of even when you are scared. That is brave. You are brave every day my sweet Alfie.”

Alfie curled closer to his mother’s side, rocking and swaying with her as she continued to stroke his unruly hair, “Alfie, I have a trick for when I’m scared. I used it when I was leaving my home country.”

Alfie looked up, hopeful for a spell or a tool to keep him from fear, “What is it mama?”

“I let myself be afraid for 10 seconds. I count backwards from ten, and let my body feel the fear. And with every breath, and every number, and release that fear. By the time I get to 1, I am no longer afraid. I push through it. If you can manage to push through to 1 every time… I think you will find that you can do anything my darling boy.”

Alfie nodded, and resolved to always make it to 1. Even as a Captain in the war, right before the charge, as he saw the enemy approaching, he started the count. He always made it to 1, and always won.

But the counting wasn’t working now. In the car to Kahn’s and Sons Alfie couldn’t make it past 5 before his mind fled to you, wondering why hadn’t seen you in the crowd yet. Why he hadn’t heard your voice above the engine of the car yet. Why he hadn’t heard you call for him yet.

The sick in his stomach almost made its way out of his mouth when he saw what was left of Kahn’s and Sons. The emerald green wood of the front had been destroyed, leaving a festering and open wound. The windows of the above apartment had been blown out, and he could see and smell charred wall paper and clothing. Anything that could be salvaged was already, piled up in a pathetic little hill to the side. The fire department had long left, the police wouldn’t be there for another day, and the neighbors could only hold who Alfie assumed to be your family, as they wept.

“Mr. Solomons?”

Alfie turned swiftly, as if he was afraid to miss your phantom’s last moments on Earth. But you were there, solid. As solid as the ask caked to your face. He willed his arms to stay at his side, so as not to crush you in his arms, or embarrass you. Your eyes begged him to say something, to say anything. To make sense of this. The fire. His presence. Your position. But what was he to say? What role is he to play in this? Esther looked at Alfie curiously her reddened cheeks pursued together, “Are you sissy’s boss?”

A million words could’ve been dictated from the stare you gave him. They can’t know… not now. Not like this. Alfie just smiled softly at Esther, “No little bird, I’m just a neighbor. Your sister’s boss is has an office near mine. But I hear she is a very smart sister. Is that right?”

Esther giggled and nodded, proceeding to babble at Alfie, competing with him in amount of words that could fall out of the human mouth. You couldn’t help but stare at this scene. The smoke and horror seemed to wash away, and all you could see is Alfie and Esther. Esther finally smiling after a night of pain. Alfie chuckling and playing with a small child, speaking with Esther as an equal. Teaching her a clapping game and asking her questions about her favorite dolls. It felt too natural. Too sweet and real and too tangible. It felt as if it was a window to a life you could have and wanted so badly but will never have. It was too much. Your strangled inhale brings Alfie’s eyes to yours, but before he can say anything of comfort your fathers voice booms over, “Mr. Solomons! My daughters are of no concern of yours! What could you possibly take from us at this time? Have you no compassion? No human decency!”

Your father pushed between you and Alfie, a formidable blockade. Alfie mad no move, essentially chest to chest with your father, staring right into his eyes. “Shalom sir. Was checking if the rumors were true. It’s a shame.”

“It is a shame, now please leave. There is nothing more you could take from us. This city is over run with your like, killing and blowing each other up, and what about us hmm?? We take the shrapnel. We either pay your protection fees and starve with a slightly better chance at surviving the blowbacks? Or we save our money to feed our children, and still suffer the consequences of your war? Now Mr. Solomons what more can you take from us?”

It was no longer a question where you got your mouth from. Your father was old, but in his eyes you saw the anger and fire of his youth, of a man out through war. Alfie typically wouldn’t allow this, by anyone. But frankly, what little memories Alfie had of his own father, he saw in yours. And he couldn’t help but feel as though this fire was his fault. Maybe if he hadn’t fought with you yesterday, this fire wouldn’t have happened.

Alfie swallowed down any regret of the night before. The time was not for regret. The time was for solutions. And if Alfie wanted to be a part of the solution, he needed to speak to your father. As businessmen, “Mr. Abraham. I am sorry for your loss. Despite your reservations, you still live in Camden. And as a resident of Camden right? You live under Solomons protection. Now this right here? This is wrong. And I’m going to personally right, see to it that it is resolved.”

Your father began to bristle at this, “The police will do an investigation. We don’t need a gangster mucking about.”

Alfie chuckled, “You know the police won’t do a fucking thing about this. They don’t care about these sort of things they’re in everyone’s purse. Fuck, some of them are in mine.”

“I will not be indebted to another tyrant.”

Your free hand flew to your fathers shoulder, “Papa please… if you won’t allow a mitzvah… please just… just speak business with Mr. Solomons.”

Your father turned to you, “This is none of your concern! Please go to your mother immediately!”

But you stood your ground, “Mr. Solomons is offering you a solution papa! You are impeding a solution and the possibility help and a necessary alliance! And for what?! Pride?! Look at this! We have nothing! The shop is destroyed and we out home is burnt! What other solution could you possibly have?”

Your father just stared at you, mouth open, the emotions of the day washing over him. It was true. There was no other choice. And you were too old for him to be able to shield you from that reality. You clutched a shocked Esther closer to your side, “Papa… just… listen to what Mr. Solomons has to say… He is a business man. He can be reasonable, that’s what people say.”

Your father looked at you, and in that moment he saw you as you fully were. No longer that small child that sat with him until the late hours listening to him read. Not the little girl who cried about hurt birds who didn’t have a papa to take care of them. But a full woman. A whole woman with a firm mind and kind heart and strong temper. In an instant he felt the joy of watching his child, the mourning of losing his little girl, and the wonder of who you became seemingly overnight. He nodded, and turned back to Alfie, who was hiding his smile underneath an unkempt beard. Your father straightened and said, “Well Mr. Solomons. What are your proposed terms for such a partnership?”

Your father proved to be a shrewd businessman, nitpicking with Alfie over every detail in this partnership, which according to the terms would be reviewed every 6 months, with an option of either side to cancel the business relationship at those meetings. But Alfie knew he was never going to be the one to cancel it, as long as it kept him tied to you. You were the assigned scribe to the terms, which you fell easily into like walking. Mr. Solomons would provide housing to you and your family for the time it took to repair your family's home. The home was a block away from his office and home, providing easier access and protection for your family while an investigation was to take place. The investigation, Alfie insisted, would be conducted by his own men, and any policemen in his purse. Alfie insisted to your father that this was more for his own benefit than your father's, as it would solidify his position as the protector and the owner of Camden town. Your father acquiesed to Alfie's demand that the perpetrator would be dealt with in his own way, not involving the actual legal system.

Kahn's and Sons would be repaired and restocked through the use of Solomons men and contacts, which would be completed within in the next two months. Upon the finished construction, two men would be on guard of the shop during the day and night, reduced to one man upon the capture of the man who committed the act. Payment for the housing, rebuilding, and protection would be based on the services of Mr. Abraham and his family. Information obtained during client conversations, as well as tailoring and laundry services necessitated by the entirety of the Solomons Company. Services would be traded according to the going rate of Kahn and Sons prices. And upon the equitable exchange, Solomons laundry and tailoring services would then be discounted at a 45% rate. At the end of the negotiation, both men shook hands, both fighting to keep pleased looks off their faces and keep the air of solemnity and certainty and expectance.

As soon as their hands released, they nodded and gave Shalom, with your father giving directions to his own family, and Alfie barking orders to Ollie and his men. You stayed firmly planted next to Alfie, Esther being taken by your father. You looked at him quizically saying to him, "That is the most generous offer you have ever given in your life."

Alfie gruffed, "You hardly have standing to say that seeing as you only been working with me for 7 months."

"Am I still employed?"

"You better. Or else the entire office is going to shit. Ollie is moping. I can't read your handwriting. And you messed everything up in my office I can't find anything."

You smirked, "I told you, you need new glasses and your office was a pig pen. You should be thanking me profusely."

Alfie just grumbled. He would never admit that the way you spoke to him now made him feel better than he had in the past 12 hours. You allowed your fingers to brush his and the rings stacked on them, "Thank you Alfie.", you let out in a whisper, not looking at him.

He took a quick breath in at the contact, immediately craving more. But he bristled out instead, "For what?"

Your eyes remained planted at the dirt on your shoes, "For coming. For... checking in."

Alfie gently brushed his finger tips against the top of your hands, hanging by your sides, the closest he could get to holding your hands, "I had to. Now get over there, your mother keeps looking over Eli's shoulder. I'll meet you all where you'll be staying."

You nodded, cheeks and hands hot, "Yes Alfie. Shalom."

"Shalom Darling."

Tag List: @jokersqueenofchaos @hoodeddreams13 @satur9-saturnalia @autumnleaves1991-blog @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @character---obsessed @solomons-finest-rum

#alfie solomons #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons x you #alfie solomons x y/n #peaky blinders #alfie solomons fanfic #Interviews for New Beginnings

[steddieasitgoes]

@steddiemas Day 10 Prompt: Nice & Naughty

18+ only please!

Tags: Established Relationship, Eddie Munson Is A Tease, Candy Canes, Fade to Black Smut, Holiday Party

wc: 1882 | Rating: M

Read on ao3 | ao3 collection

There are only two possible outcomes for tonight. 

Either Steve is going to kill Eddie. 

Or Eddie’s going to kill Steve. 

He’s still not sure which is the better option. 

It’s not how the night was supposed to go. Not in the slightest. 

All he wanted was to come home from work, quickly change, and head out to Robin and Nancy’s first annual Christmas party. He’d promised her he wouldn’t be late and even if he didn’t, her threats of castration were enough drive to make sure he stayed on time. 

Of course, he failed to account for the menace he called the love of his life. 

Eddie didn’t face the same level of threats as Steve did if they were late to the party. Nor did he endure an eight-and-a-half-hour day refereeing children hyped up on candy and the promise of winter break.

Instead, he spent the day at home, bored and alone. Or at least, bored and alone until he miraculously stumbled on the handmade Christmas gift Steve had been hiding for weeks now. The little shit. Weeks of planning, careful grooming, and slightly embarrassing photo sessions with Jonathan were ruined the minute Steve opened the front door to find Eddie flipping through the calendar on the couch. 

It’s not that he’s mad at him for snooping, truthfully, he should have hidden the calendar better. He just wanted to be there when he opened the gift and realized what the pages held. Sure, Eddie still looks dazed and love-struck, but it’s not the same as the initial reaction he knows would have turned his pale face a beautiful blushing red. 

Of course, staring at erotic and occasionally nude pictures of Steve all afternoon had an effect on Eddie. One that left him needy and hungry the minute his eyes lifted from the carefully crafted calendar spread to meet Steve’s judgmental gaze. 

Maybe it’s because he is a little mad about the ruined gift, or maybe it’s because he really does fear Robin’s wrath. Whatever the case, Steve had brushed off Eddie’s advances (and there were a lot of them) and managed to get them dressed and out of the house on time. 

He was paying the price for it now, though. 

If there’s anything worse than a bored Eddie, it’s a horny Eddie who has yet to be satisfied. 

“Are you aware your boyfriend is currently deep-throating a candy cane right now?” Robin asks, starting him from his staring. 

Steve’s not fond of the noise he makes that slips passed his lips. It’s nothing Robin hasn’t heard before (they spent five years as roommates and they have the mental scars to prove it), but its still embarrassing. Especially when anyone at this godforsaken party can hear him. 

He’s going to kill him. 

“Unfortunately,” Steve groans, tipping his head back as he wills himself to pull it together. There is a time and a place to indulge his horny boyfriend and his platonic soulmate and his ex-girlfriend's first annual holiday party in their house is not one of them. 

“Awesome,” Robin says, clicking her tongue. “So, like, are you going to stop him?” 

With a deep sigh, Steve’s hands come to rest on his hips as he rights himself. Eddie’s in his peripheral now as he turns to face Robin, but he can still see him seductively going to town on the ginormous candy cane. Making a show of it, dragging his tongue from where his hand grips the base up to the curved tip of the stupid candy. Lips parting in that beautiful ‘o’ before he puckers them and sucks on the peppermint stick. 

Christ. 

“I don’t think you’d approve of how I’d stop him.” 

On cue, Robin’s nose wrinkles as if she’s smelt something horrible. Which isn’t possible given the delicious smells emanating from the kitchen and the many candles lit around the room. 

“Gross!”

“Hey, you asked!” 

“Yeah, only because he’s making a scene and I’m pretty sure if you don’t stop him, Benjamin is going to break his own HR PDA rules and steal your man.” 

“Over my dead fucking body,” Steve huffs. 

Benjamin from HR would be lucky to get within ten feet of Eddie whenever Steve’s around. Some may call him overprotective, but he’s just giving into his primitive nature. The one that says Eddie is his and only his so kindly fuck all the way off. 

He’s about to tell Robin as much when he spots movement out of the corner of his eye. A familiar tuff of red hair practically skipping towards Eddie’s whose moved on from the candy cane and is now doing the most dipping a warm cookie into a mug of eggnog. 

“Is it just me or is Benjamin making eyes at Eddie?” Nancy asks, appearing out of thin air. 

This time Steve doesn’t mind the noise that escapes him. If he’s honest, he wishes it was louder. An animalistic growl that would warn Benjamin to back up without him having to drag himself over to Eddie. Unfortunately, the music is too loud and Benjamin is too entranced so Steve has no choice but to physical intervene. 

“Robs, Nance, this party has been great and I really wish we could stay,” he says, glancing over his shoulder to find Benjamin’s hand patting Eddie’s shoulder affectionately. “But I don’t think you or your guests would enjoy what’s about to happen.” 

Without another word, Steve slams his mug of eggnog down on the table behind him and stalks across the room. Sure enough, Benjamin is making eyes at Eddie. Steve can tell Eddie’s uncomfortable by the way he’s standing; shoulder high, arms stiff at his side. It doesn’t stop him from giving Benjamin a playful look in return when he spots Steve staring. 

Little shit. 

“Hey, Eds,” Steve says, slipping his arm around Eddie’s waist with practiced ease. “Think it’s time we head out, don’t ya think?”

“Aw, already?” Eddie whines, barely looking at him. “But me and Benjamin were just getting to know each other.” 

Steve hums as his fingers come to pinch the delicate skin on Eddie’s hip. A warning. “M’sure you were, but we have that thing we need to finish up.”

“I think it can wait a little longer.” 

“I really don’t think so,” Steve says, trying his best to keep his voice even. 

Benjamin’s watching them, eyes moving between them like a pingpong ball. He might be a so-called expert on human relations, but he clearly seems lost right now. It’s actually hilarious when Steve really thinks about it. Benjamin’s met them a handful of times before and yet he’s failed to realize they’re an item. 

“It was nice seeing you again, Benjamin,” Steve says, extending his free arm out for a friendly handshake. “Have a happy holiday!” 

Steve drags Eddie to the car in a half sprint/half jog that leaves them both breathless in all the wrong ways. Always the gentleman, he opens the car door for Eddie before slamming it shut and stalking over to the driver’s seat. 

They’re on the road for less than five minutes when Steve feels Eddie’s hand creeping up his thigh. A quick glance and he sees the want pooling in those damn brown eyes as his. 

“You really think you deserve this after tonight?” Steve snaps, swatting Eddie’s hand away from his lap. 

“Oh like you’ve been any better,” Eddie scoffs. “All those pretty pictures you had taken of yourself?” 

“That was a private Christmas gift!” Steve defends. His grip on the steering wheel tightens as Eddie hand falls back on his lap, fingers drumming against the strong muscle of his thigh. “One you snooped around and found! And don’t even get me started on your little candy cane show a minute ago.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, sweetheart,” Eddie says, batting his stupid eyelashes. 

The light ahead of them changes from yellow to red and Steve slowly eases his foot off the gas. With the car rolling to a stop, he tears his eyes away from the street and drinks Eddie in. The soft streetlights cast a halo of light around his dark curls, already unruly from the winter breeze. His lips are plush and red stained from the stupid candy cane and his eyes are still blown just as wide as they were hours ago when Steve caught him red handed. He’s fucking beautiful. 

Steve can’t wait to destroy him. 

“You’ve been naughty.” 

Eddie hums, leaning across the center console so he’s firmly in Steve’s space. The hand on Steve’s laps moves higher, fingers pressing into the tightening denim around his dick.  His lips find the shell of his ear, hot breath fanning over him that sends a shiver down his spine. 

“Naughty enough to be punished?” 

The light changes but Steve doesn’t move. He’s caught in a trance under Eddie’s careful hand and wild eyes. Santa Claus and his hoard of reindeer could materialize in front of them right now and Steve wouldn’t even give them a second glance. 

If they were ten years younger and their backseat was a little roomier, he’d take Eddie right here, right now. Unfortunately, the last time he gave into his teenage-level desires, they ended up in the ER. He’s not living through that embarrassing nightmare ever again. 

“You better hope you didn’t tire that mouth of yours out with your little show,” Steve says, finally easing his foot back onto the gas. The car lurches forward and Eddie clings to Steve’s clothed dick to stay upright. Tease. “Because I have big plans for it when we get home.” 

Steve’s pretty sure he could cum in his pants from the sound Eddie makes alone. Thankfully he holds it together long enough for them to make it three steps inside their house before he’s shoving Eddie down onto his knees and freeing himself from the constraints of his jeans. 

“I thought naughty boys don’t get what they want for Christmas,” Eddie teases as he reaches a hand out, index finger gently teasing the length of Steve. Hs other hand continues to shimmy his tight jeans down his legs. 

“They’re not supposed to,” Steve huffs, fidgeting under Eddie’s teasing hands. 

Eddie tuts and glances up at Steve through his eyelashes. If Steve thought he was beautiful in the car, he’s fucking ethereal right now. Happily on his knees, practically drooling for Steve’s cock. If only Steve had a camera right now. 

“Guess I must be the luckiest naughty boy then.” Eddie trails off, leaning forward until his lips barely brush the tip of Steve’s hard cock. 

It’s the slightest bit of pressure but it’s enough to send Steve into hysterics, hands shooting out to grip the shelf behind him to stay on his feet. When he glances down at Eddie, he finds him looking up at him with a beautiful wet smirk. 

“‘Cause I’m about to get my favorite package delivered early.” 

Eddie’s warm mouth is on him an instant, taking him all without missing a beat. As the world drifts away and Steve gives in to the immense pleasure coiling in his gut, he can’t help but think maybe they should incorporate candy canes into their prep more often. 

#steddiemas #steddiemasnaughtylist #steddie #steddie ficlet #steddie fic #steddie smut #steve harrington smut #eddie munson smut #steve harrington fic #eddie munson fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #dani writes

[mindlesshark]

“ The Day We Met ”

chapter three pt.1

this chapter will be split into two, story for the delay! some things came up!

story tags/warnings : ot8/reader, male reader, polymerous pack, possessive hints, mature series, bdsm, strangers to lovers/mates, fantasy, courting, fluff, angst, mc is just a sweetie pie, male omega reader, alpha!seonghwa, pack alpha!yunho, alpha!mingi, beta!hongjoong, beta!yeosang, omega!wooyoung, alpha!san, alpha!jongho, mean wooyoung, wooyoung hates reader?, reader is the same height as woozi from svt, 18+ only no minors

chapter tags : semi smut(?) , collaring, fluff, omega/omega

length : short :(

a/n note : (heart divider by @cafekitsune)

(previous chapter) Walking into the packs nesting room Yunho grabbed a small jewelry box, glancing at the black velvet collar inside. The elegant looking collar had the groups name branded on the front followed by white lace, a small sliver bell in the front, and a keyhold in the back. Everyone’s gaze followed yunho’s figure as he sat down infront of the omega being held by an overly excited beta. Shaking his head he held in a laugh, possessive already he noted.

Meanwhile y/n tried controlling his heartbeat while his doe eyes stared at the jewelry box in question. Was he going to give him a bracelet of some sort, why was everyone suddenly so quiet? Hearing a light click signaling the box had been opened y/n froze in his spot, a collar. Oh..OH everything suddenly settling into place, no wonder they were being so serious. Grabbing the small key he glanced around him at the others. They wanted to collar him this meaning he would be theirs not only in sexual tense but in general. He would belong to them and only them. Letting go of a breath he didn’t know he was holding he finally met the pack alphas eyes, “you…if this is a joke its not funny” his voice wavering. He didn’t know what his inner omega would do if they were playing some sick joke on him. If he was being honest he would most likely have a drop and that would be horrible not to mention it being the first day.

Suddenly the room was filled with the scent of rich peppermint as yunho’s eyes gazed over y/n’s current state, motioning the omega to come closer to him. Before the omega could even begin to spiral into overthinking yunho spoke up his voice a bit deeper than normal as he carefully took the collar into his hands, “i’ll assure you this is far from being some sick joke,” seven heads nodding in agreement. Crawling over with the help of hongjoong who was whispering quiet words of reassurance, y/n sat on his knees infront of the large male nibbling his bottom lip in anticipation.

Gazing into y/n’s doe eyes once more be began to speak, “With this collar i am asking you to commit yourself to us and make the pack one of the highest priorities in your life, but your mental health must always come first. Do you accept these terms?”

“Yes, i accept”

“In return, as pack alpha, i am promising myself to you, making you one of the highest priorities in our life. Today i offer you this collar with it our love and protection. Do you accept?” Everyone’s eyes glued two y/n as they silently held their breath, everything going quiet even the light whispering seemed to stop. They weren’t the only pack who did this yet they were still nervous about the omegas reaction. Wooyoung watched the omegas every move from the way his hands shook nervously to the way his scent suddenly sweetened.

Clutching the victorian-styled key y/n gently placed it in the alphas hands, “I accept, in return i offer you the key with it my loyalty and submission.” Pushing his hair from in-front of his eyes y/n gripped onto the hem of ‘his’ hoodie as excitement ran through his veins, the smell of chocolate cake slowly making its way through the living room. This was happening, one of his many dreams had just come to life. He could even hear his own heart beating in his ears. He waited impatiently for yunho to place the collar around his neck, to initiate this was indeed real. Quickly turning around, y/n scooted back even closer to the alpha reaching out to hold hongjoong’s hand for support.

Carefully placing the soft yet durable fabric around his neck yunho clicked the collar into place, turning gently on the key to lock it. Trailing one hand around y/n’s neck he slipped a finger under the collar giving it a light tug, perfect. On cue the rest of the pack let out sighs of relief before crowding around the two. Pulling the omega into his lap he gripped y/n hips tightly listening as loud purrs erupted from y/n’s chest. “Good omega, you’ll be a good boy for us won’t you” he mouthed against y/n’s neck watching as their eyes glossed over. One by one the pack came closer sitting infront of the pair the they began pampering the docile omega, scenting every inch of his body until he was left a whimpering mess.

“please alpha..pl-” y/n pleaded as his hips twitched slick leaking into his underwear. Yunho lightly shushed him messaging his thumbs into y/n’s hips holding them down. The pack knew this would happen, their own omega wooyoung had told them how if he accepted he’d most likely fall into subspace almost instantly. Placing a soft kiss against y/n’s temple the alpha calmly spoke again, “Wooyoung how about u and sangie take y/n to have a bath, it’s getting pretty late. Im sure he is gonna want to be close to the pack omega right now, we’ll continue the rest tomorrow.” Carefully picking up the small omega yeosang carried him to the shared bathroom next to y/n’s assigned room. Attempting to set the omega down on the counter only to be met with a teary eyed y/n grap onto his arm with a strong grip, “no please beta dont go!”

Yeosang could almost hear his heart break at the males tone. “Shh shh don’t worry baby im not going anywhere” caressing his cheek yeosang stood between his legs placing butterfly kisses on his cheeks. The beta didn’t need y/n to get distressed during such a fragile state. That would end badly for everyone. “Come on pup lets get these off yeah? Then you can have a nice hot bath with wooyoungie, dont you wanna show him how good you are?” he said endearingly.

Frantically nodding his head, Y/n quickly slipped off his hoodie and the rest of his clothes with the betas help before attaching himself right back to the beta.

Starting the bubble bath wooyoung bit on his bottom lip deep in thought. He was conflicted. He knew he smelt the scent of someone else on the other omega but he couldn’t tell now that y/n was covered head to toe in the packs scent. Choosing to brush it off he stripped himself free from his clothes. Maybe san was right, he was just thinking of it too much for now he needed to focus. Walking over to the pair he gently convinced y/n to let go of yeosang which to his surprise didn’t take much. Finally settling down into the hot bath water he held the smaller male in his lap, “such a pretty omega” wooyoung purred out licking across his scent glands.

Preening under his praise, y/n felt a shiver go down his spine, a gush of slick beginning to mix with the bathwater. “Please ‘mega..inside” he begged while turning around to face the other, hair sticking to his forehead. “I’ll be good promise” straddling wooyoungs lap y/n rubbed his small cock against the others. He was desperate for all of the older omega’s attention.

Forcefully pulling y/n against himself with his left hand, wooyoung caressed his cheek placing a passionate kiss on his lips. He almost felt sorry for teasing the omega and shaking his head no. Watching as tears built up in his big brown doe eyes, he kissed his forehead rubbing his back in circles. Oh how he loved when they cried. Easily sliding two of his fingers into y/n he pumped in and out at an erratic pace frustrating the whiny male in his arms. “Let me see those pretty eyes. You have to be quiet or else i won’t let you cum” Wooyoung mocked him with a fake pout.

Holding onto his shoulders y/n sniffled as he fucked himself on wooyoungs fingers. Trying his best to maintain eye contact with the older omega he panted desperately chasing his orgasm, tears trailing down his face. Lewd moans echoing throughout the bathroom, “Don’t stop please, please ‘mega im gonna come-”

Covering y/n’s mouth harshly he tsk-ed, removing his fingers to sink him down on his cock. “You’re so fucking loud” he gritted out while fucking y/n through his high only stopping once the felt the omega go plaint against his chest. As punishment he didn’t bother cumming inside ignoring his own release completely.

After washing for 20 more minutes in the tub wooyoung gently dried off the dazed omega along with himself, “You did so well pup, such a good omega all nice and clean. Lets get you dressed.” Walking back into the bathroom with a fresh set of clothes consisting of undergarments and one of the alpha’s shirts, yeosang helped dress y/n giving wooyoung a knowing look. Shaking his head he picked up a half asleep y/n placing a soft kiss to his temple.

Going into y/n’s room he gently sat the omega down on the bed watching as he managed to still make a nest in the middle of the bed. So his instincts come out more when he’s in subspace.The nest consisted of felix’s clothes, his own, and the pack alphas hoodie. Once he finished y/n walked over to the beta, his speech simplyfied “beta come sleep with ‘mega.” Dragging the smiley beta into his nest he scented him throughly before dozing off.

Waking up early in the morning y/n glanced at the sleeping beta beside him with a small smile. Carefully getting out of his nest he did his morning routine. Walking into the kitchen he went to open the blinds in a nearby window letting some natural lighting in before he began preparing breakfast for the pack. Their manager had messaged him the packs schedule for the week as he was brushing his teeth. Today jongho, san, yunho, and hongjoong had dance practice while the others were free to stay home and rest. Setting the table y/n hummed to himself making sure everyone had a plate with eating utensils. He wondered what his best friend was doing but chose to let him sleep in more before bothering him by blowing up his phone with messages.

[tackytigerfic]

Twenty Questions for Fic Writers

Thank you so much for the tag @lettersbyelise. loved reading yours here!

How many works do you have on ao3?

63 under my tacky account and I think 2 under my brasstacks account.

2. what's your total ao3 word count?

On my tacky account: 358,302.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Only HP so far (plus, inexplicably, one Witcher fic even though i wasn't even really into the show let alone in the fandom). I have an idea for a Steve x Eddie fic (stranger things) and an F1 fic (i don't know the fandom or the real life people at all but I am obsessed with the writing of @boxboxlewis and have, fatally, had An Idea for a galex fic as a result. pray for tacky, i can't afford another hyperfixation, the one i have is bad enough). but they will probably never get written, alas. i barely get my drarry stuff done!

4.. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

I never check my stats - i don't have them blocked or anything, it just doesn't occur to me. I also think it's a really unhelpful way of judging the merits of a fic. Fandom is supposed to be fun, and a fic can be great in many different ways for many different people, and none of that can accurately be conveyed by how many hearts people leave. That said, I appreciate every reader i get so much - I never ever imagined people would read my fics so each person who does gets a whole lotta love from me. However for the purposes of this ask i did go into my stats section to have a look and here we go, it might be a surprising one as i suspect Modern Love is probably my most recced:

If It Takes All Night: quick oneshot i wrote for Lock Down Fest, forced bonding, quidditch buddies, friends to lovers.

A Lick and a Promise: My first long fic, a case fic involving an auror/unspeakable team who go undercover as Hogwarts professors to solve a crime at the school. oh and they also happen to be fuckbuddies already.

Modern Love: My own favourite, also my longest fic (so far, mwahaha). Muggle world Draco, depressed Harry learns to love himself and falls in love with Draco along the way.

Through the Window, Clear Skies: 1.4k of love story. so fond of this one as it's the first fic i wrote where i felt like i had finally clicked stylistically. it was the start of me learning to write in my own style rather than trying to emulate the fics i loved to read.

And One to Play: Gosh, i actually do not really remember what this is about. auror partners? Harry loves clothes in this one i remember. And it's about weather magic. I was so proud of this one when i wrote it and really learned a lot at the start of my fic writing journey.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Just like Elise, I would love to but I fell massively behind after Modern Love posted and never got my momentum back. I am currently about 3 years behind though i do try to reply whenever i can. i absolutely treasure comments and i really miss interacting with readers. at the moment it's a choice between writing new stuff and replying to comments. i also never ever mind when an author doesn't reply to my comments so i figure people will allow me the same grace.

6. What is a fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Some people might say it's Last Offices as that's MCD, but my own choice would be The Quiver of a Heartstring because of the sheer hopelessness of it. Depends on your particular flavour of angst i think.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Most of my fics are cheerful, I suppose Modern Love as there are two follow up fics so you get to see them happy in both of those, as well as in the epilogue?

8. Do you get hate on fics?

not much that anyone tells me about! Someone did feature one of my fics (ironically, the one with most kudos) on some horrible mean-spirited blog about crap mary-sues, which was probably the most out-and-out horrid thing i've come across. i wasn't upset by it, but i did think it was a surprisingly shitty thing to do about anyone's fics! I also had someone leave me very very long comments on one of my fics asking me to explain why I made Harry so mean, and then went on reddit and posted some long posts about the same thing (naming the fics they had a problem with, including mine). bizarre! i have never had out and out hate comments, thankfully. just the usual WELL ACKSHULLY type "concrit" that really just means "i didn't like how you did this, so i'm going to let you know in detail about it". to which i say, off you fuck, buddy, and learn some self-awareness. and brush up on your grasp of fandom etiquette while you're at it.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes i do, not necessarily all the time and sometimes it's more M or T rated hints. I read fic for the romance and sex is part of that. and i write what i want to read.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

No i don't, though after chats with my resident F1 expert @sweet-s0rr0w I wondered about writing a racing AU where one of them crashes and ends up in a fiery inferno but walks out of it. only they've come back wrong.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

not that i know of, i would absolutely hate that though.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

earlier fics yes, but now i ask that people not translate my fics. this is because if i need to delete all my works off AO3 at any point, i would prefer to have them all in one place to scrub them. i know it doesn't work like that but it's just one of those irrational worries i have and it gives me the illusion of control!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes! Body Electric with @shealwaysreads which is a Drarry bodyswap. And Dreaming Skies with @sweet-s0rr0w which was the Dron dragon-tamer getting together fic of my dreams. love a collab, what a privilege to get to work with such talented people!

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

Drarry absolutely 100% no questions asked. I've never had another ship and never will. my brain just isn't made that way. it's a pain but it is what it is.

15. What's a wip you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

None, i have quite a few WIPs but I feel like I could go back to any of them at some point. I'd never say never on a fic tbh. if i started writing it, i had a reason. some WIPs i have from years back are: quidditch fic where Draco buys the team Harry plays for, Master of Death Harry fic where he is reckless after the war and Draco dies due to trying to keep up with him, and Harry has to go get him back... umm political fic about a corrupt Ministry where Dudley has a magical baby and Harry and Draco take the kiddo (and Dudley!) and go on the run. i probably have more that i've forgotten.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Not being disingenuous but it's harder for me to appreciate my strengths as I tend to be too immersed in my own writing to have any distance. I think maybe, going by what people have said, I am able to capture a mood? And i write love in a loving way.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

From my own perspective, my weaknesses are being too slow (it takes me ages to write anything), inability to focus for long, and not being a good plotter.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

Yeah, I think that's fine! i'm not sure what this question refers to tbh 🤔😂 I mean, if it works in the story then it works. I have never done it myself other than in Our Little Life which is a multiverse fic where Harry gets visions of multiple other lives with Draco through space and time. In it they speak Middle English, Latin, Irish... i think that's all?

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Harry Potter. i actually wrote an angsty Draco x Ron oneshot YEARS ago (it was called Take This Longing and i went by perfidia back then and i can see the link on the wayback machine but the fic itself is lost sadly.. or actually that might be a good thing) but then I never wrote anything at all ever again until i started writing fic in 2019. i have never been in another fandom and i don't think i ever will. i don't know why i've imprinted so hard on these two idiots but here we are. I have also started writing original work in recent years, again not something i ever imagined doing but it's lovely and satisfying in different ways to the way fic writing is! so i feel very lucky tbh.

20. Favorite fic you've written?

Probably Modern Love. It is exactly the fic i wanted it to be, and people who read it seem to get what I wanted to give. and you can't say fairer than that.

Tagging @blamebrampton @boxboxlewis @citrusses @epitomereally @maesterchill @mintawasalreadytaken @porcelainheart3 @shealwaysreads @skeptiquewrites @sweet-s0rr0w @teacup-tai if you fancy it! and anyone who wants to play.

#drarry #drarry fic #drarry writer #writer ask game

[writtenontheport]

Walk Me Home?

George Karim x (gn) Reader

Pt. 4: Somewhere in Between (pt. 1) (pt. 2) (pt. 3)

Warnings/Tags: Bit description heavy, Lockwood and co friendship, Shorter than usual I’m so sorry 😭, This part is more of like… it’s a buildup to the next part, That part oooooh I have something for it!!, Quite a few things actually, but this part is mostly build up, Rising Action kinda move 🤞, Mild arguing and swearing, Slow Burn (LMAO!!) , The characters are quite ooc in this one, They are all INCREDIBLY SILLY ⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️

Notes: I usually write longer I promise it’s just that I’ve been struggling to write a bit!! Mostly why I took that break yesterday, but I needed to at least get this lore important part out 🤞🤞 I needed reader to meet Lucy and Lockwood for what I’m scheming to do in the next part… This series is SO self indulgent my silly ass is cackling. I imagined book Lockwood and his silly ass and couldn’t stop thinking about the characters acting as genuine, embarrassing people and like— I’m sorry Lucy my love… you got sillified.

Summary: You meet George’s friends and it goes as well and as horribly as he thought it would. Just for today, the library can rest.

When George first introduced you to Lucy and Lockwood, he already knew you all would hit it off. At first you were nervous; your smile wobbly as you kept yourself small, so George linked pinkies with you and didn’t let go until he was sure you were ok. From the corner of his eye he could see your expression turn soft and adoring, grateful in the way you tighten your knuckle around his. From there you found enough confidence to ease yourself into their dynamics.

Lucy adored having you around. George wondered if having her whole life defined by the problem made her crave for some sense of what normalcy they were owed growing up. He was lucky enough to find it with you in the library and in cobble-steeped walks before curfew, but Lucy’s never really had that with anyone.

Watching you both chatter away from him and Lockwood, he’s glad she could find it in you, too. She seemed relaxed whenever she sat beside you, and her voice was filled with more wonder than he had heard since they’d met. Often times, Lucy would whisper something that had you ducking your head coyly, avoiding George’s eyes. He didn’t know what that was about, but the self-satisfied smirk Lucy had after made him rather suspicious.

Lucy would tell him (after he had walked you home) that he did good finding you and confirmed that she had immediately been taken with you and wanted to be friends. Something in George felt reassured when she insisted ‘only friends’, but she did so with a teasing smile that had him glaring at her playfully.

Lockwood took to treating you like you’ve always been one of them, ever kind and charming as he always was. He was fascinated with news about the world at large (ever the gossip), and seemed to eat up anything you could tell him about what life was like without ghosts on the streets. Whenever Lucy wasn’t hogging you, Lockwood was either having you tell your own anecdotes or sharing his newspaper clippings. He certainly looked the part of a child dragging about their new friend to play, puffing his chest proudly with every framed photo he showed off.

When George asked him about what he thought of you, Lockwood clicked his tongue and whined at him for not bringing you sooner. That was a very good sign, but it was terrible for George because Lockwood had gone a 30 minute spiel about who knows what (George tuned him out at some point early on).

A lot of the time you spent visiting, though, the two of them teased you and George as they asked for the details George refused to share. It surprised you to know that he hadn’t even told them about the nature of your first meeting before he mimed zipping his mouth shut and you grinned.

“Yes, well, I’ve actually forgotten,” You hummed, linking your pinky with George’s under the table.

You all moved to the dining table near the end of your visit to Portland Row, eating biscuits and drinking tea. George made sure to tell you about the one biscuit rule, but occasionally turned a blind eye when Lucy or Lockwood offered you an extra. They shot him knowing looks he refused to meet while he focused on the comfort of your voice.

“Really?” Lucy asks amusedly, raising a brow, “From the one thing George’s told us, it doesn’t sound forgettable.”

“What’d he say about it?” You were genuinely curious, leaning in with a wide smile.

Lockwood, ever excitable, added, “Well, it was very strange. Said something about owing you shoes apparently? You don’t suddenly owe someone new shoes just after meeting them.”

“George has never owed me shoes,” You balk, turning to eye George, “And he should know it absolutely wasn’t his fault what happened to my shoes.”

George simply sips on his tea as his pinky squeezes at yours, your searching gaze softening into a smile.

“Have you seen a ghost yet?” Lockwood asks, a bit out of the blue.

Beside you, George cuts him off with a stern reply and Lucy leans in to whisper to you in the midst of George’s and Lockwood’s argument.

“Has he actually not shown you any ghosts yet? I would have thought he might’ve. ” Her eyes twinkled in mischief.

“I haven’t seen a single ghost since meeting George. Mind taking me to see one one day, Lucy? Let’s leave these two bickering and have a day of our own,” You suggested, reaching over the table to offer a hand.

She takes it, and with a smirk says, “Any day, just tell me when and where.”

Little did you know that there was a ghost right under your nose in a little glass jar somewhere in the house; that she had meant that literally.

Lucy and Lockwood send you and George off like kids do with Santa after Christmas; George can’t seem to get enough of your smile all the while. He doesn’t deign the two’s teasing with a response before he’s grabbing your hand and dragging you down the sidewalk away from them, giggling and laughing as you rushed along.

Neither of you bring up the fact that this was entirely new, you simply slid your hand into his proper and followed along with a coy grin. George did the best he could to hide the growing uptick of his lips by keeping his eyes away from where yours focused on him fully.

“That went well,” George says, clearing his throat. You bit your lip and shrugged, bumping his shoulder with yours in a motion that has him glaring at you. It’s a playful thing as much as it is a warning, and try as he might you know damn well George could easily find ways to get back at you if you pulled a prank on him. The glaring eases up quickly, but the tenderness in his eyes doesn’t; it’s almost dizzying if it wasn’t so adoring.

“Lucy promised to take me to see a ghost one of these days,” You hum, watching his expression fall into absolute vehemence.

“Absolutely not. I already have to deal with those two risking their lives every case already.”

“It won’t be on a case…” You grumble under your breath, kicking at a stray rock he watches tumble far off to the side. “I wouldn’t want to get in the way of your work like that. Plus, you could come! I’m sure Lucy won’t mind.”

He pretends to think on it, shrugging with his brows raised in the little motion that says he could be convinced. It’s a good enough sign for you when he finally concedes; “As long as Lockwood doesn’t come with. He’d somehow convince us all to make it some suicidal mission to take down London’s ghosts for fame again.”

“Again?” You balk, squeezing George’s hand in worry, “George, what do you mean again?”

A/N: I know I usually start and end it off at the library and at reader’s (temporary) home, but I just… I had to get this meeting out for now!! I needed reader to meet Lucy and Lockwood it was important!!! I promise this is plot relevant

#george karim x you #george karim x reader #lockwood and co x reader #portie writes fanfic

[prettytoxicrevolver]

Protector | Matt Martin

Four times Matt has taken care of you and the one time you repay him for it wc: 3.4k (strap in friends) this fic is dedicated to all my fellow Matt Martin lovers. the king of dilf nation deserves only the best

One 

Being friends with an entire national hockey league team definitely had it’s perks. Most of the boys on the New York Islanders team saw you as a best friend or a little sister. You tagged along to all the games, kept them entertained when they went out, was there whenever they needed you, etc. 

Matt Martin had always been a bit different to you. He was always protecting you, hanging out with you more than the others, and making your stomach twist more than any other crush you’ve had. He truly had such a hold on you that you were sometimes concerned with how much you liked him. 

“Have you heard from (y/n) recently?” Matt looks up to Noah’s imploring eyes and he tilts his head. 

It comes over him that he hadn’t heard from his best friend in a few days. At the thought he reaches for his phone, dialing your number and listening to the ring with a nervous feeling. 

“Hello?” 

“(y/n)?” 

“Hi,” you croak out, your voice scratchy from the cold that was taking over your body. 

“You sound horrible.” 

“Oh thank you that’s exactly what I wanted to hear,” you respond sarcastically. 

“I’ll be there in 10.” 

Before you can even get a sound out, the line clicks off and you’re sat waiting for Matty to show up. As promised, there’s a knock on your apartment door not longer after the phone call. You wrap your blanket around your shoulders and drag yourself towards the front door. 

Just as you’re about to open it, Matt swings open the door with his spare key in hand. You frown at the older man, his signature worry crease crinkling on his forehead at the sight of you. 

“Bed. Now,” he orders and you turn right back around, a weird twist clutching your heart. 

You climb back into bed, pulling the covers over you and letting the warmth encapsulate your body. You listen as Matty marches around your apartment doing god knows what until there’s a quiet knock on the door. 

You sit up to see him with one of your serving trays, piled on top is a mug, cough drops, medicine, soup (where did he get soup?) and a glass of water. He sets it down on your night stand, moving to sit in front of you and grabbing the mug. 

“Tea, for your throat,” he explains, carefully handing you the porcelain cup. 

You take a sip from it, humming when the contents soothe your throat. Your eyes glance over the rim of the cup to glance at Matty. 

“Since when do you know how to make tea?” you ask, setting the cup down next to you. 

“Since you always need tea whenever you’re sick,” he responds not looking at you but instead focusing on pouring out some of the cough medicine. 

You stare at him for another minute, your heart doing tricky flips and scary extra beats at the sight of the older islander. 

Matty stays with you through the night. You wake up feeling a thousand times better than the day before and you can only thank Matt for coming to your rescue. 

Two

You crash into your high top table, falling onto the seat with your best friend giggling in front of you. Your phone buzzes incessantly on the table and before you can reach to see who it is, your friend is picking it up and answering. 

“Hello?” Anna greets you with a wide grin and your mouth drops open, your slow drunken movements proving no match against her determination. 

“Uh Anna? Where is (y/n)?” 

You recognize Matt’s voice and start to make grabby hands at the phone. Your friend hands it over and you smile wide when the phone is finally pressed to your ear. 

“Matty!” 

“Hi sweetheart.” 

“Where are you? I miss you, come hang out! I haven’t seen you all day.” 

Your pout is evident even through the phone and miles apart. Matt can’t help the flip of his heart, reaching out towards you as if he could reach you over the phone. As you babble on, he flips over to find my iphone, and sees your at the bar the boys frequented after wins. 

He’s standing and grabbing his keys without a second thought. Halfway out of a apartment he realizes you’re still on the phone with him and he’s registering what you’re saying. 

“And I’m just grateful for you Matty ya know? Like I don’t know what i’d do without you.” 

“Same here honey. Can you stay there for a bit darling? I’m headed over.” 

“Marty you’re coming?! I’ll get you a drink,” you sing out and Matt smiles. 

A short car ride later, Matt is stepping inside the bar, searching for your figure. He hears you first, your adorable giggle floating over the rest of the bar goers. When he sees you, he makes a beeline straight for you, meandering up towards the high top table. 

“Hi Anna,” he greets and the more sober of the two of you turns and smiles at him. 

“(y/n)?” he asks, turning towards you. 

“Matt!!” you yell, throwing your arms around the older boys shoulders. He carefully reaches around your waist, pulling you into him and you let out a drunken laugh. 

“Anna! Matty is here,” you reach up, pinching at his cheeks and Matt swipes your hands away from his face. 

“You’re okay to take her home?” Anna asks, completely ignoring your state. 

“All good. You need help getting home?” 

“All set. Thanks Matt.” 

With that, Anna is gone and Matt’s attention is back solely on you. He tightens his hold on you, grabbing your purse and slinging it over his shoulder before gently leading you towards the front door of the bar. 

You babble the entire way to the car and on the way to Matt’s apartment and while you were a complete mess, he couldn’t stop smiling. Drunk out of your mind and the one thing you wanted was him. It did funny things to his heart. 

He practically carries you into his apartment, dropping your stuff at the front door before leading you towards his spare bedroom. He breaks from you for a moment, running off to grab some water, aspirin, gatorade, and a snack for when you undoubtedly woke up in the morning. 

“No,” you whine when Matt makes a move to leave you again. 

You’re wrapped up in the giant comforter, hands grabbing at any part of Matt you could reach. He settles down in front of you, pushing your hair back and running his fingers through the strands in a comforting motion. 

“You’re so nice Matty,” you mumble out. “You’re like a prince, no! You’re my knight in shining armor. I wish you were mine.” 

With your final proclamation, you fall asleep, shoving your face into the pillows and letting out a quiet sigh. Matt frowns down at your state, happy to have you here and safe in his presence. But, those words would mean the world to him if only you were sober. 

Three 

“Where’s (y/n)?” Matt looks up at the sound of your name, Oliver is the one to question the older hockey player. 

“She told me she was coming,” he says, his hand already drifting to his phone. 

He picks it up to see no new notifications and a nervous feeling overtakes him. He’s about to respond to wally when coach walks in and his words are swallowed. He tries to push away the nerves as he focuses on what Lane is saying and the beginning of the game. 

Matty spends the better half of the game looking around the stadium for your figure usually decked out in isles clothes. He doesn’t spot you once and his nerves continue to grow until the game is over. He ignores the questions about post game interviews and showers, changes, and packs up faster than ever before. 

When he gets to your apartment door he pauses, listening to hear silence coming from the usually noisy household. He slips his spare key into the lock and steps inside, music flowing over him as he does so. He heads straight for your room, the music getting louder which he recognizes as a Taylor Swift song you had played for him before. 

Without a second thought, Matt enters your room, only for his heart to fall to the ground and shatter upon impact. Your form is collapsed on the bed, curled in on yourself and Matt hears quiet sobs emitting from you. 

He rushes over, sitting on the bed and reaching out for you. You jump at the sudden contact of someone next to you, but when you lift your tear filled eyes and see Matt you want to cry all over again. 

“Baby,” he whispers, pulling you into his arms. Your legs splayed over his, your head landing on his chest and his grip tightens on you. 

“What happened sweetheart?” 

“Sidney,” you whisper and Matt can’t help but drop his forehead to the top of your head, sighing quietly. 

“He cheated on me Matty,” you say, lifting your head up to look at him. “He cheated and he said I’m not capable of being in a relationship with him and was so fucking mean.” 

You burst into tears all over again and Matt lifts a hand to try and wipe away your tears. A feeling of rage overcomes him, he considers driving to pittsburgh right now and kicking the crap out of the glorious Sidney Crosby. 

But then you sniffle once more, and Matt knows you need him more than anything right now. 

Four

“Come on please?” Barzy offers big brown eyes and pouty lips in your direction and you melt like everyone else does at his look. 

“Fine,” you agree and he excitedly picks you up, spinning you around before placing a kiss on your cheek. 

“Thank you thank you!” he yells when he sets you down. 

Barzy had been trying to convince you for days that you should go out to the bar with him for a couple of drinks and the potential for a new fling or boyfriend. After your last trip to the bar and secret feelings for his teammate linger, you were unsure whether or not you wanted to tag along. 

But, you loved Barzy and wanted to spend time with him. You knew you’d be fine at the bar with Mat and he reminded you that if you just say the word he would high tail the two of you out of there and back to your apartment in a heartbeat. 

You decide on your signature little black dress for all nights out like this, strappy black heels and a clutch to round it all out. Your makeup is nothing if not smoky and inviting in all the right ways and you find yourself getting excited as you wait for Mat to come pick you up. 

Even though your crush on Matt Martin was palpable and probably not going away anytime soon, you figured a night out with a potential new guy couldn’t hurt. Worst comes to worst you and Barzy leave the bar early. Best case? A new distraction for a few hours. 

“Holy shit,” Barzy greets when you meet him by the front of your apartment building. 

He takes your hand and you do a dramatic little twirl that has him looking you up and down in appreciation. 

“You look hot as fuck.” 

“Thanks I know,” you respond cheekily, earning a playful shove from the isles forward. 

“Come on, I wanna get there before it’s too crowded.” 

You’re not sure what Barzy’s definition of crowded is anymore by the time you’ve walked into the bar. It’s packed from wall to wall and there’s practically two lines of people wrapped around the bar all trying to order drinks at the same time. 

Barzy drags you to the back where a booth is filled to the brim with people. It takes you a second to recognize who everyone is but you’re quick to match names to faces and find a few isles players and their girlfriends or wives there. 

“(y/n)?” 

You whip around to find Marty standing behind you, two drinks in hand and looking more handsome than ever. He’s wearing a black tee, a black jean jacket, and loose fitting jeans to match. 

“Hey! I didn’t know you’d be here,” you lean up and press a kiss to his cheek as part of your greeting and for a second you think his cheeks flush at the gesture but the red hue is gone before you know it. 

“Enough small talk,” Barzy interrupts, taking your hand and pulling you away from Marty. 

Marty watches with jealous eyes as you and Barzy head to the dance floor, the younger isles player spinning you around before pulling you close and dancing far too intimately for Marty’s heart to handle. 

You’re grateful for Mat’s quick intervention between you and Marty because without it, you probably would have stayed glued to his side all night long and not even had the chance to explore your options. 

“Tell me something,” Barzy calls when he pulls you in close again. “How long have you had a crush on Matty?” 

You choke on your spit at his blunt question and he laughs obnoxiously in your ear before planting a shit eating grin on his face. 

“I fucking called it!” he roars out happily and you roll your eyes. 

“Is that why you invited me out?”

“I figured you needed a distraction from the fact that you’re probably never going to make a move,” Mat taunts and you shove him away from you playfully but the action has you bumping right into a stranger. 

“Shit! I’m so sorry,” you yell out to the man. 

When you look up you’re greeted by emerald green eyes and a playful smile. Blonde hair is shaved close on the sides but flops over his eyes and he peeks through the strands to offer you an appreciative once over. 

“Not a problem darling,” he draws in a slight southern accent that makes you want to hear more. 

“Mind if I steal your girl?” the stranger points the question towards Mat and he responds by holding his hands up in the air. 

“She’s not mine so have at it,” he tells him and the stranger grins wider at his response. 

“I’m Brad,” the stranger finally introduces himself as he circles an arm around your waist and pulls you close against him. 

“(y/n),” you respond. 

“Well pretty girl, may I have this dance?” 

You nod and let Brad pull you in and move you around the dance floor. He’s beyond attractive, model status at the very least but something in your heart is telling you to get away from him after one dance. You weren’t sure what it was, but something wasn’t right. 

Marty didn’t think his anger level could go higher than when some prick on the ice said some stupid chirp that dug a little too deep. He’s wrong of course, considering he’s seeing red watching you dance with a random stranger. 

That red? It burns brighter when he realizes the guy is making you uncomfortable. 

After the first dance you try to make an excuse to Brad, telling him you had to find your friends, that you had to go to the bathroom and would be back, or you wanted another drink but nothing deterred him from staying glued to your side. 

His dancing had quickly turned to grinding, running his disgusting hands all over your body and groaning in your ear when he clutched your hip in a vice grip that made your stomach turn so violently you think you might throw up. Your eyes flash wildly around the bar, praying to make contact with someone who might be able to save you from this creep but you seem to have run out of luck for the night. 

When Marty catches your terrified glance flitting around the room it takes all of his willpower not to run over and beat the man senseless. Instead, he strides towards you confidently, pulling you out of the strangers grasp and behind him.

You’re flooded with relief and safety when Marty’s arm wraps around you and securely holds you in place behind him, his towering figure only looking more menacing as he stares down Brad. 

“What the fuck man?” Brad chews out and you watch as Marty’s jaw ticks in anger. 

“I think it’s time for you to go,” Marty snaps back and Brad takes a step closer. 

“Who the fuck are you?” 

“Her boyfriend. So I suggest that if you want to keep all your teeth I would fuck off,” Marty growls out. 

Brad decides Marty probably means every word and throws you one more pissed off glance before stalking away. When Brad has successfully disappeared from view, Matt turns towards you and looks you over before pulling you close. 

“You okay?” 

“Yeah,” you choke out, heart beating harder for a different reason now. “Thank you.”

“Let’s get the fuck out of here.” 

And One

You sit patiently at the end of the tunnel, waiting for Marty to come out and escort the two of you back to his place for the night. The game didn’t go the way any isles player or fan wanted and you imagine the locker room is in rough shape as you wait. 

After twenty or so more minutes, Marty stalks out, game day suit back on and scowl placed on his face. You don’t say anything to each other, Matt taking your hand and hauling you behind him as he makes his way out of the arena. You understood his bad mood and didn’t want to push him to talk until he was fully ready and willing to. 

“Martin!” you hear someone call out from behind you and the two of you look to see a hoard of reporters and fans making their way towards the two of you. 

“Fuck,” Marty hisses out. 

You’re about to ask him something but the crowd descends on you faster than you can imagine and you’re swallowed up in it. You feel reporters shoving you forcefully back into the group and you gasp as a girl elbows your side before another pushes past you again and deeper into the crowd. 

You’re starting to panic, the unfamiliar faces boring down on you, the pushing and shoving, the pain of jabbing elbows and sharp glares causing your heart to race nervously. 

“Matt?” you call out, hoping the older isles player can hear your call over everyone. 

“Get the fuck out of my way,” you hear Marty boom over the crowd and more jostling ensues as people move in on him. 

The minute the crowd tore you away from Matt he jumped into panic mode. He knew your hatred of crowds and the fact that these people so callously ripped you away from his side was eating him up. God forbid you got hurt, he would never forgive himself for putting you in that situation. 

Suddenly, a pair of strong arms are circling you and tugging your head into their chest. You feel Marty lift you up and you koala bear your body around him. He carries you through the crowd and doesn't let go until he gets you placed in the passenger seat of his car. 

You’re not sure when your tears had started to flow or even when they stopped until Marty reaches across the car and wipes a few left over from your cheeks. He doesn’t say anything, silent the whole ride to his apartment but when you finally reach his home he breaks. 

“I’m so fucking sorry princess,” Marty chokes out and you frown at his emotion. 

“It’s all my fault I should have left earlier or kept moving when the crowds came I should have gotten to you quicker I would never let anything happen to you I just…” 

Marty rambles on about how he hated what happened today and even through your protests he continues. Your eyes fall over his pain stricken features and you don’t realize what you’re doing until your lips carefully ghost over his. 

“I’m okay. As long as I have you, I’m okay,” you whisper. 

Marty closes the gap between you two, pulling you in and placing you on his lap, wrapped up in his love just where you belong. 

#matt martin x y/n #matt martin x reader #matt martin imagine #new york islanders x y/n #new york islanders fic #new york islanders x reader #new york islanders fanfic #new york islanders imagine #hockey imagine #hockey rpf #prettytoxicrevolver

[renaiswriting]

Shadows of Desire (part 10)

Pairing: Yoon Jeonghan/Reader

Summary:

You always thought the only romance you would experiment with in your life was the one between pages under the flames at midnight. That was until you found him, because the feel of his fangs digging into your neck was more than addictive.

Word count: +5.4k words

Warnings: Mentions of death, mentions of blood.

If you want to be tagged, please fill out the tag list form.

Author's note: shout-out to my Shadows of Desire playlist because it really helped me find inspiration to write this part lol

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"Are we running out of garlic again— Hey! Wow, why are you so jumpy?"

 

You looked in and shook at Luke as he lifted the mess you had made without missing the swearing coming from his mouth.

 

You apologized, but your shoulders were still tense.

 

"I don't know," you replied, noticing that Luke was still expecting an answer. "I just had a bad dream, I guess."

 

The memories and the well-lived sensations came back to your mind once again, and the ghost of a person you thought you knew made an appearance in your mind.

 

"You've been locked in your room way too much lately," Luke clicked his tongue, and I don't think it's doing you any favors. Maybe you should go outside for a while. Why don't you go and pick some blueberries? Mark told me there are barely any left. God knows when we will have some jam if we don't use it now."

 

"I don't know..." Luke frowned, sitting down on your bed and looking at your current state.

 

"Why not? It was never an issue before. Want me to go with you?"

 

"You hate going there." You shook your head. "I'll think about it, alright?" You offered, but your poor attempt to fool Luke was in vain.

 

"I'll go and get Mark if you want to go with someone; maybe that friend of yours could tag alone as well?"

You froze on your spot.

 

Your heartbeat quickly started picking up, and your hands suddenly felt way too cold.

 

"No."

 

Luke looked at you weirdly.

 

"I don't want to see him."

 

"What happened?" Luke asked. "Did he do something?"

 

You stared at Luke.

 

What could you answer to that question?

 

You were still pretty confused yourself.

 

Technically, it was a bad dream.

 

Like the one you had years ago where you stole Susan's sheep and made a meal with them.

 

It wasn't real.

 

But the feeling was so real that it did make you feel like you were the most horrible monster ever.

 

And even though you could still tell it was a dream, you weren't so sure this time.

 

It had felt so real.

 

You could remember every single thing that had happened in front of your eyes.

 

Every single thing

 

And that made your head feel dizzy.

 

The lines that differentiated between what was real and what was a product of your mind were blurry.

 

"No." You finally spoke. "I just think it would be for the best for me to stay away from him. At least just for some time."

 

"Keep him from taking you the wrong way." Luke nodded. "Why don't you go and have tea with Susan? A woman can only be truly understood by another woman."

 

"Yeah, maybe." You nodded, and Luke thankfully took it. That was the best he would get anyway.

"Mark is going tonight." Luke informed me, cleaning his throat, not knowing where to look. You wanted to laugh; he was usually really awkward whenever he tried to comfort you.

 

"I'll bake a pie then." You promised. Your words had the effect you were expecting, taking some of the worry off Luke's face.

 

"If you want to." He shrugged, but there was a pleasing smile on his face. You could tell he was already looking forward to the dessert. "We're running out of fruits, though." He mentioned it on his way out of your room. "You might want to go and buy some before it's too late."

You wanted to slap yourself.

 

Of fucking course you were running out of fruits; you have been eating them every day as if it were your last meal.

 

And not just fruits.

 

You have been doing everything as if it were your last.

You weren't sure if it was because you have always loved fruits and the eating part helped you calm down from all your nervousness and anxiety or if your body was genuinely making you devour everything that was in front of you because there was a thin chance of it being your last.

"Luke I don't want to go alone." You cried, jumping from your bed to rush towards the front door where Luke was standing, putting his biggest jacket over his shoulders.

 

"I'm sorry, but I cannot go with you. I still own them some money; if I go there, they will not let me live." Luke replied, taking his favorite hat from the chair.

 

"Are you going to Mark's?" You asked hopefully.

 

"Yeah, but only to bring back my beer. I bought a lot in the bar last night, and I was so drunk that he fooled me into giving it to him. He's not going to be back until it's dinner time."

"Can't you really not go on your own?" Luke sighed frustratedly, trying to free himself from your hold on his arm.

"I will try." You mumbled, the pout in your face not really doing anything to make Luke change his mind.

 

"It will only take ten minutes." He reassured you, "Are you sure you want to go in your pajamas?"

It was dark.

Not peach-dark.

But dark nonetheless.

The sky was slowly turning from pink to purple, dark blue, and finally black.

And the birds making sudden noises were making your heart beat as if you were in a race.

You hated the way you had the urge to turn your head with every step you took.

 

You saw a girl walking in front of you, and that somewhat made you feel safer.

 

At least you weren't completely alone.

 

You forced yourself to take a deep breath and stop walking.

Breathe, you reminded yourself.

And for the next ten minutes, as you wandered deeper into the darkness of the tall trees that covered what was left of the light, you kicked at a rock you had found on the ground.

Somehow, it helped.

It was not a person.

Or an animal.

But you felt somewhat accompanied.

Less lonely.

Oh, Jiji, you lamented that the poor thing was probably still in a lot of pain from the snakebite she had come up with earlier that morning.

That's what she gets for wandering around at night, you thought, shaking your head.

Luke had made you swear that you would let Jiji sleep outside one night because every morning he woke up with the living room full of the remains of Jiji's needs.

The poor dog had almost no outlet to do any of her business at night.

But you couldn't help it; you were afraid something bad would happen to her.

This time it was a snake bite, but next time it might be a bite from a...

No.

Nothing like that

Stop it.

But obviously, it was easier said than done.

All those memories, all those sensations... Your heart was still aching against your chest, beating so fast whenever you caught yourself wandering around that nightmare.

It was like your lungs suddenly had trouble holding in air because no matter how much you tried to breathe, the air was never enough.

It was difficult to correctly classify all the emotions you experienced when you couldn't help but think about them.

Were those images simply a figment of your mind, a twisted fantasy that your subconscious was trying to prove?

You had never experienced anything similar; all your dreams, no matter how beautiful or terrifying they had been, were always a blur.

When you woke up, you could remember, on a good day, at least a quarter of what you had actually dreamed.

If anyone asked you, there were only a handful of dreams that you could actually remember, and even these had not been as sharp as those of that night.

Jeonghan... You had come to consider him a friend.

 

He had earned a soft spot in your heart.

 

You felt like a stupid young girl.

 

Had it all been a game to him?

 

What was it?

 

All this time, all the shared moments? All the nights you'd asked him to stay with you while you were falling asleep, so vulnerable, you'd left it up to him to do whatever he wanted.

 

You swallowed the saliva that had accumulated in you dryly; the knot in your stomach didn't seem to go away.

 

Your fists clenched, and you kicked the rock as hard as you could in the direction of the nearest tree.

 

Maybe all those times Luke and Mike teased you, telling you that you weren't ready for the real world, they were right.

Walking in the direction where the poor rock that had accompanied you up to that moment had fallen, you let yourself fall beside it.

 

You drew your legs up to your chest, allowing your elbows to jab against your knees.

 

Your hands covered your face as a frustrated sigh escaped through your fingers.

 

You hated it. The way your heart was still beating fast as, with your free hands, you pulled the dagger out of your back that Jeonghan had plunged into you

 

You had trusted him so much.

 

Maybe his friend sensed it.

 

Maybe he hadn't been the true villain you had believed him to be.

The nausea suddenly became more noticeable as the realization formed in your mind.

 

His friends.

 

Fuck.

 

They were probably part of it.

 

Monsters.

 

All of them.

 

The ones who hated you

 

The ones who didn't want Jeonghan to hang out with you

 

Those who didn't even want to see you a kilometer closer to Jeonghan.

Alarm bells began to ring in your brain, and your body was, once again, at the beginning of a crisis.

 

Even with the big gulps of air you were trying to inhale, the feeling that you were suffocating didn't stop.

The palms of your hands made contact with the ground, with different branches, sharp rocks, and wet grass tearing at your skin on contact.

 

Your eyes were wide open like two saucers, and tears were starting to fall down your cheeks without your permission.

 

Were you about to die?

 

You had never had such a near-death experience, but you were sure you were half a foot away from passing to the other side.

 

The memory of that dream popped into your mind, almost as if mockingly asking you, "Are you sure you were never about to die before?"

 

A cold hand landed on the center of your back; his body invaded the ground, glued to yours, while with his other hand he tried to move his face to the ground.

 

You screamed.

 

Or so you thought, because you felt a heartbreaking burning sensation in your throat.

 

Your hands moved quickly from the floor, where they had been supporting your weight, to try to fight whoever was there.

 

But now that your body was still leaning on the ground without your hands to help distribute the weight, you lost your balance, making you shut your eyes, ready for the impact of your face hitting the ground.

Your heart skipped a beat when the words careful hit your ear.

 

Jeonghan was holding you close to his chest.

 

Your hearing was trying to sharpen as much as possible so you could catch a hint of a heartbeat.

 

But all you could hear was your own heart thudding against your ear.

"Shhh." Jeonghan spoke low, his voice entering your ears like a spell. "Breathe," he instructed. "Take five deep breaths in through your nose and out through your mouth. Can you do that? Can you do that for me?"

"You... You came to—you're going to kill me." You replied, your voice almost impossible to understand because of your gasping breath. Your eyes wouldn't stop leaking tears, your eyes were red and puffy, and your nose was running.

"Breathe." Jeonghan replied, trying to bring your altered mind back to his simple instructions. "Copy the way I'm breathing."

His cold hands were holding you as close to him as possible without actually hurting you.

But instead of calming you, his presence was having the opposite effect.

You started kicking and slapping his arms and hands away from you.

The slapping on his hands shocked him enough to let you go, and as soon as you were out of his hold, you moved as far from him as possible without standing up.

 

His eyes were on your face, studying your every move. Both of his hands were raised, facing you, so you could see his movements.

 

"(Y/n). Please breathe; you're going to hyperventilate." He sat down in a much more comfortable position, but that slight change in posture was enough to send you into panic mode once again. "I won't move, alright? Look at me. I'm here. I won't move closer." He stated this, even moving a few centimeters back.

 

"You're going to hurt me; you came here to finish what you attempted to start, god knows when." You shook your head in disbelief. Your words were slowly becoming more understanding as you were starting to accept your fate. "Did you invite them? Are they around?"

 

"Them? Who are you talking about? It's just me. Jeonghan." He replied, looking confused enough. His right hand was where his heart, if he were still a human and alive, should be beating.

"Your friends." You replied. Your eyes were still red, and old tears were still on your cheeks. Your eyes were looking at him, but they were emotionless. All the previous crying had somehow drained you of any other feeling.

 

This was it. You thought. There's no going back now. There's not a single chance to get away with this, not alive at least.

 

I hope I taste awful. The thought came to your mind, and a wave of angriness started to build inside of you. I hope they all get poison from my blood. I hope they remember me for being the worst they have ever tasted.

 

"I'm not with them." Jeonghan replied, looking defeated. His eyes traveled from your face to the ground, and a frown was visibly on his forehead. It felt out of place. His face didn't match those expressions.

"So you came here to have me all to yourself?" you laughed. The lack of grace in your laughter was more than evident.

 

"No." Jeonghan replied, backing away a few steps as if the very question was physically hurting him. As if your words were daggers stabbing him. "I'm not going to hurt you."

 

"But you tried to."

 

"(Y/n)..." Jeonghan stood up, walking five steps closer to you.

 

"You did. Back off. Now. I don't want you near me."

"I'm not here to hurt you; I'm here to protect you. I want to talk with you." Jeonghan replied, his voice sounding like a plea.

 

"And if I say no, then what will happen? Will you play with my mind, with my memories, the way you have been doing all this time?" You replied angrily. "I don't know what games you're playing, but I'm out. I won't take part in it any longer."

"You played with my memories; do you have any idea of how fuck up that is? Do you even know how fucked up it is to wake up not sure of what's real and what's not?" You added. "No, you have no idea." You replied to yourself before Jeonghan even got a chance to reply.

 

"I didn't mean for you to get this scared of me."

 

"Well, it's a little bit too late for that."

"I only ever meant to protect you. I swear. I never tried to hurt you."

"Shut up. I don't want to listen to you. I don't want to see you. Just go and leave me alone. You and all the others that are just like you."

Jeonghan frowned once again. "It just doesn't make sense. I don't understand what could have possibly happened for you to get so—what did you see?"

 

"And now you're going to play dumb?" You were sick of it. I'm sick of the situation and of Jeonghan. You stood up, starting once again on your way to the place where you should already be.

 

You wondered if Luke was already back.

 

Did he realize you were not home yet?

 

"(Y/n)! Wait." Jeonghan ran to walk next to you. "Please, I think there's something wrong."

 

"Besides what you did?" You asked sarcastically.

 

Jeonghan holds you by your wrist, making it impossible for you to escape from his grip.

"Don't touch me." You spoke with a much braver voice than you really felt.

In reality, you wished for nothing else but for Jeonghan to tell you it had been just a bad dream.

A nightmare.

"You were lying down. In the ground. There was blood. Lots of blood. I tried to help you, but you stood up and tried to kill me." Your eyes naturally moved to his half-open mouth, his shinny teeth, and his sharp fangs, which only now were a little bit too sharp for them to be considered... Normal.

His eyebrows drew so close together that they almost seemed to form a unibrow. If there had been any more color in his face at that moment, it would have been gone.

 

The cold night breeze did nothing to stop the shivers and shivering that ran through your body. Your feet and hands were already frozen, and you didn't need to see your reflection to know that both your cheeks and nose were red.

The breeze blowing through the dampness that had left such a cry helped keep you grounded in reality.

 

What Jeonghan had already done, you had no way to change.

 

As much as you wanted to beg and wish it were otherwise, what was done was done.

 

"No, that's not—those are not the memories that I hide from you; that doesn't—listen. That's not what happened that night; it wasn't me that did that. It was someone else." Jeonghan spoke quickly, his words barely making sense as he started a new sentence before finishing the one he started before. You could almost physically feel the way his brain was working overtime in such a short time.

"That night I was hunting near your house. When I heard a scream. Your scream. I don't usually get involved, especially when I know it's another one of ours—another vampire, hunting. But this area is usually my clan's. We try not to hunt humans, so our diet is mostly animal. Sheep, in my preference. So I was alarmed. When I got to where I heard that scream, I saw you with another vampire. A vampire who unfortunately seems to be more involved in your life than you think. The only memories of that night I erased were of myself when I started fighting that vampire."

"Am I supposed to believe you?" you asked incredulously. But the truth was, you didn't know what to believe anymore. "I'm sure about the people in my life. And not one, not one person in that small circle, would be able to hurt me."

"(Y/n), I need you to trust me on this one. Please. I really think you're in danger right now. I don't know what to do—maybe Seungcheol might know; he's the oldest of my clan." Jeonghan started thinking out loud, talking to himself while holding your wrist tightly while he started walking deep into the woods, making you follow him clumsily behind.

Your heels dug into the ground as best you could, trying with all your might to avoid being dragged to wherever Jeonghan was trying to take you.

His hand was gripping your wrist so tightly that his fingers were already beginning to mark your skin.

"I'm not going anywhere with you; let go of me!"

Jeonghan turned, glaring at you. "I regret to inform you that on this occasion you don't have much of a choice. You are in danger."

You began to struggle again to get him to let go, but a wave of peace and tranquility washed over you, making your brain feel funny and a little dizzy.

You didn't quite remember why you had been so upset.

What had happened?

You smiled.

You had no idea.

"Better?" Jeonghan asked you again, this time holding you more gently. You nodded, still a little confused but unable to help the oeaueueueque chuckle that escaped your lips. Jeonghan smiled back, switching hands to hold your wrist with his left hand and your back with his right. "I'm glad. Now we'll go to my place; I need to check that everything is okay before I return you home, okay?"

"Okay."

Slowly that dizzy, tingling feeling in your head began to disappear. It was like you had a cloud in front of your eyes, and with each step, you could see more clearly.

Jeonghan was walking briskly, but he seemed to remember that you needed to move slower, especially with so much darkness.

"Where—?"

"We're almost there." Jeonghan replied gently, but his gaze was on the ground, still too busy with his own thoughts.

You didn't try to fight your way out.

It was in vain.

You couldn't even see the ground; there was no way to escape and run away from there without being discovered.

You walked in silence for about another five minutes. Five minutes that made you think about every single possibility, every possible scenario

Five minutes in which Jeonghan was constantly turning backwards and sideways, sharpening his ears to their maximum capabilities

Five minutes to say goodbye.

Jeonghan had told you he didn't plan to hurt you.

But they were on their way to the house he shared with those who hated you so much.

You closed your eyes, talking to your mother for a few moments.

When your eyes opened again, you found yourself in front of two lanterns and a large black gate, which protected a huge house that looked like something out of those old stories you loved to read.

Both the gate and the house at the back of the road were black. Some lights were on, and you could have sworn you saw two shadows moving behind the white curtains of one of the second-floor windows.

If you weren't so terrified, you would have found it very pretty.

It was like a castle.

Jeonghan opened the gate, letting you walk first before closing it again behind himself.

"They won't hurt you." Jeonghan mentioned noticing your tense shoulders. You didn't bother to reply at all, giving him the cold shoulder instead.

The door opened, and a strong smell of lavender invaded your senses.

It did kind of help to calm your nervousness and anxiety a little bit.

The floor was made of a shiny material that made the colors white and black shine as if they were made of glass.

They felt nice on your now-barefoot feet.

There was some really low music coming from one of the rooms.

And at the end of the hall, there were big, pretty intimidating stairs.

One man, with fair skin and ash blonde hair, walked down from the second floor, his shoulders bouncing up and down with each step he took.

He walked so relaxed that you really wanted him to make you believe he meant no harm.

"Hey." He greeted you as he walked past both of you, entering another room from the first floor.

"Have you seen Seungcheol?" Jeonghan asked him, his hand pushing you softly from your back towards the room the guy had just entered.

He shook his head, pouring himself a red drink in a glass. Your stomach suddenly felt sick once you realized what he was drinking.

Blood.

He took a bug-glup of it, sighing happily once the blood hit the back of his throat.

"I haven't seen him for the whole night." He spoke again, his teeth now looking quite red as well.

"I'm just waking up anyway; maybe ask Wonwoo?"

"Thanks, Vernon." Jeonghan replied, grabbing himself by the wrist and entering a spacious living room.

The place was huge. There were multiple armchairs. They were all white, and their cushions were red.

In the center of the room, there was a black piano and many paintings on the walls.

Your eyes instinctively moved to the large library that took up an entire wall.

Wonwoo, as you guessed, was a tall, slender young man with big shoulders and a small waist.

His hair was black, and his eyes were perusing the words of a book that must be at least a thousand pages long.

His eyes reminded you very much of the eyes of a cat.

"What do you need?" He spoke. His voice was deep and clear.

"Have you seen Seungcheol?" Jeonghan asked again.

"No. He probably went to the village. As far as I know, he had some business to take care of there." His eyes didn't move from his book, but the next question did take you by surprise. "What is she doing here?"

"Please, let me know when Seungcheol's back." Jeonghan replied instead, taking you to one of the rooms upstairs.

The bedroom was small—bigger than yours but way smaller than the two other rooms you have been to in that house. It had a big bed that could easily fit three people comfortably, maybe even four.

There were some plants here and there, but most of them were already too dry to bring back to life, and a big closet

There was nothing really personal there.

Nothing that screamed Jeonghan

So it did make you second-guess if that was actually his room.

"You can take a seat." Jeonghan offered, pointing at the small sofa under the window.

"I'm alright." You replied.

"It might take a while before he comes back; I really suggest you take a seat." He repeated himself. "Are you hungry? I can go downstairs and make you something to eat."

"No, I would rather go back home."

"Look, I know you're mad at me. I know that. I understand that. But I really did all that for your own good. There are things that you can never know happened—things that your brain removed for your own good. And if it were in my power—if it were up to me—I'd be telling you by now. All of them. In great detail. But I can't. Not without knowing how dangerous it is. So please trust me. I'm asking a lot, I know. But please let me do some research. Let me find out what's within my reach before I start talking and put us both in danger."

You remained silent but sat down on the couch, as Jeonghan had indicated.

Jeonghan breathed a sigh of relief, taking off the coat he had been wearing and putting it away in the closet.

"Would you like a sandwich? I'm sorry that's the best I can offer you, but as you must have discovered, our diet isn't the most diverse on the planet." Jeonghan offered with a small smile.

"Okay." You accepted, and your stomach was seconds away from starting to growl hungrily. "But not too big; my brother had promised me to cook dinner tonight."

It was an obvious hint you had thrown at him, and Jeonghan seemed to pick up on it just as quickly.

"I'll try to get everything done quickly so you don't have to miss your dinner." Jeonghan promised. "But I'm not sure how late Seungcheol will be."

You nodded, allowing Jeonghan to go and bring you something from the kitchen.

You could hear some noises here and there, but you purposely ignored them and distracted yourself with the view of the outside you had from Jeonghan's room.

The moon looked very beautiful that night.

"Thank you." You thanked Jeonghan, accepting the plate he was handing you. His cold fingers brushed against your fingers accidentally, and you wanted to think.

"I hope it tastes good."

"It does," you replied, taking a second bite.

Jeonghan watched you eat with a smile on his face. He seemed too happy with the outcome of his sandwich.

"You're not going to eat?"

"I can't." Jeonghan shook his head. "Anything other than...you know, it goes bad for my stomach."

"What if you eat human food, then?" you asked curiously.

"I throw up." Jeonghan replied calmly. "It's involuntary; I like to smell food." He added. "It reminds me of when I could eat it. But no matter how many times I try to eat it, it tastes bad to me."

"And how do you know when you have to...?"

Jeonghan chuckled softly. "I can sense when I need to hunt." He replied. "You can feel it in the back of my throat—the need to drink blood. My body gets cold."

Your eyes widened, remembering how Jeonghan's body temperature felt compared to yours.

"Don't worry, I'm not on the verge of having to go hunting yet or drink blood. My hands are the first to get cold."

"So you can't drink that until you feel it in your throat?" You tried to ask for help to calm your own erratic heart.

"Oh, no. I can drink whenever I want."

"Then why not drinking now? Don't you have blood downstairs?"

"Yes." Jeonghan took a deep breath, his eyes moving to yours. "But I don't want to scare you any more than you already are."

"I'm more terrified to know that you're in the same room as me with the slightest feeling of hunger." You confessed to him.

 

Jeonghan looked at you for a few seconds, contemplating your words and his options.

 

"Would you feel more comfortable with me drinking here or in the kitchen?"

 

"Here." You replied confidently. "I need to know if it's just as scary as in my dream."

 

You needed to start being able to distinguish what was true and what wasn't.

 

For your own sake.

 

Jeonghan nodded. "Very well, then."

 

He came back to the room with a bottle that, fortunately, made it impossible to see what it had in its interior.

 

He took one last look at you. "Are you sure you want to see this?" He asked.

 

"Yeah."

 

He nodded, taking a deep breath before his lips met the bottle. As the liquid started filling his mouth, his shoulders started being so tense, his eyes shut tight, and his forehead frowned as he took more and more of the blood.

His breath became more erratic, sounding as if he were fighting to fill his lungs with air.

 

He opened his eyes; they were full of red. His pupils were so dilated that you couldn't see where they started or where they ended.

 

A shiver ran through your body, not knowing what to make of his gaze on you.

 

It frightened you.

 

But it intrigued you.

 

You were unable to break eye contact.

 

With shaky legs, you stood up, walking closer to where he was.

He followed your every move, and as you got closer, the sound of the blood traveling down his throat became louder.

 

Your hands slowly approached the bottle, holding it on your own.

 

Jeonghan's eyes opened wide, but he freed the bottle from his own hand, letting you do whatever you wanted to do.

 

You held it intact for a few minutes until it was fully empty.

 

You sit down next to him, taking a quick look at the bottle and at his red lips.

 

"What does it taste like?" You asked him, trying to fill the awkward silence that had fallen on you both.

 

"Like chocolate." He joked. His eyes were still fully dilated. He looked drunk with blood. "Less sweet, though. Since it isn't fresh blood."

You nodded, looking away.

"So?" Jeonghan asked after some minutes, and you looked at him confused. "Was it like in your dream?"

"Oh," you replied, "no. I don't know. It wasn't really from a bottle there."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Alright." He added, looking everywhere but you.

"Can you try it?" You asked him at the same time he was saying, "I should better bring that downstairs."

"What?" He asked, alarmed.

"Can you try it?" You repeated yourself, bringing your arm closer to him and uncovering your skin from the fabric that was covering it.

"No." He shook his head. Looking seriously at you. "Why would I ever do that?"

"I need it." You looked at him straight in the eyes. "I don't know what's real and what's not, and this is the only way. You were the one in the dream; I need to see if it is like that."

"You almost had a panic attack today when you saw me; do you think this is really the best idea? What if it is like your dream? How could that be of any help? I need you to trust me and understand that it wasn't me."

"Please."

"No."

"Just for one second." You tried again. "Please."

"Maybe another day. It was definitely a lot for a single day."

#seventeen #seventeen fanfic #seventeen fanfics #seventeen fic #svt au #seventeen au #seventeen imagines #svt fanfic #svt reacts #seventeen x y/n #seventeen x oc #seventeen x you #seventeen x reader #svt x y/n #svt x oc #svt x reader #svt x you #jeonghan fanfiction #jeonghan fluff #jeonghan fic #yoon jeonghan #jeonghan #jeonghan x y/n #jeonghan x you #jeonghan x oc #jeonghan x reader #jeonghan series #jeonghan scenarios #jeonghan au #seventeen fluff

[i-heart-yellowstone]

2 - Who Runs This Valley

Part 3

Raised Fair Share Of Hell

Tag list @bvbwestfall @hcwthewestwaswcn @child-of-of-the-sunshine @elenavampire21 @keep-the-wolves-close

Keeping my arms crossed over my chest I stomped up to my daughters father grabbing him by his forearm and dragging him back in the direction of the main house porch. Flinging the door open and the second it shut behind us I shoved him against the nearest wall. “Why is she here, Kayce! Why, tell me why because I thought we had an agreement that she wouldn’t be here.”

“My dad asked me if he could get to know his grandson. I wasn’t just going to deny him that after what happened when I told him about you and about her all those years ago.” Kayce pressed his back against the wooden wall.

I scoffed, throwing my hands up away from my sides. “Oh so that’s perfect. You’ll just bend your back and do whatever she wants if your father ask you too.”

“We agreed that I should help her raise my son.” Kayce fought back. “Tate shares part of my family's legacy just like Faith does.”

Slapping a hand to my forehead I huffed. “Believe me I know that.”

“Look, I didn’t bring them here to cause a fight between us. I’m just trying to do what I thought would work for all three of us. Because like it or not I am the father of two kids with two different mothers and an entire ranch that will become theirs the day we die.”

Leaning my back against the kitchen island I ran my fingers through my hair. “I think this would’ve been simpler if you gave her a big check of money and we never saw her again.” I knew I sounded like a horrible person but every time Monica and I were in a room together it was just extremely awkward.

Kayce ran his fingers through his curls sighing heavily wishing we could go back to when we were yo her without a care in the world. “Lissa, how can we get past this. I mean, is it so horrible?”

“It could be if you forget your daughter's birthday is tomorrow and she’ll officially be hitting double digits.” I clicked my tongue hearing the front door opened and his older brother Lee walked in on our conversation.

He paused in the doorway of the kitchen sensing the tone of the room. “Woah, are you two about to fight or something?”

“We might if Kayce forgets his daughter's birthday tomorrow because that’s supposed to be one his days with his other child.” I put one hand on my hip, scowling at the man I had still managed to love over all this.

Lee gave him a warning look. “Oh-ho you better not do that, little brother. I did it one time and your girl over here launched a frying pan at my head the next morning.”

“I never said I wouldn’t be there. I have only missed her fourth birthday and that was because Tate was being born and she had no one there for her when she delivered.”

I sent him the middle finger being completely serious. “You get one warning. Don’t miss it, Kayce.”

“I promise on my mothers biscuits that I won’t.” Kayce swore, placing his hands together in front of his chest looking like he was begging. I knew the loss of Evelyn was hard on everyone so when he swore it truly meant something.

Lee cleared his throat, gaining my attention and shifting my gaze to him. “Alissa, I just came to tell you everything is ready to go. I'll be waiting outside for ya.” He exited through the front door.

“What is he talking about?” Kayce snagged my wrist stopping me from leaving with him.

I gently stared into his brown eyes. “We're taking our cattle back from the Reservation.”

“What, no. It's too dangerous - and why didn't I know about this earlier?”

“Would you come with us or are you too busy trying to be up Monica's ass?”

He opened his mouth to say something but nothing was really worthy. “Alissa, I-”

“That's what I thought. Take her ass home and if you want to help you know where I'll be.” I yanked my arm out of his grasp and he watched me leave heading out the door seeing Lee was waiting for me.

I got down onto the dirt ground with my brother in Law right before the front door got kicked open where I saw Kayce standing there watching me with fear in his eyes. “Alissa, don’t do this. Please, it's too dangerous.” I didn't utter a word after his brother handed me a loaded riffle and we headed around the other side of the house.

“Everyone’s forgotten who runs this valley.” John, Lee and another ranch hand walked in front of me heading to get into the vehicles that were ready to head and get our cattle back.

I held onto the rifle that hung on my right shoulder focusing on what we were going to do hearing Jamie come up behind me. “This is not the way to remind them. It’s a bad idea.”

“We don’t choose the way, little brother.” Lee turned and walked backwards for a second replying to him.

Jamie sent me a nervous glance. “Alissa, is this how you’d want your daughter to remember her mother? Heading in with physical violence to get some cattle back.”

“Like Lee said, life chooses our path. Babysit Faith till I get home.” I paused, having one of my boots up on the truck ramp riding with Lee in one of the trucks. Shutting the truck door behind me we headed off towards the Reservation.

Night had fallen over the Indian Reservation land that was nearly bare except for the cattle that we could see off in the distance. The cattle that belonged to the Yellowstone Dutton Ranch. Sitting on my horse Lee came up beside me on his own. “Are you sure you're up for this?”

“Lambert’s don’t back down from a fight.” I responded to him hearing the helicopter coming from behind us meaning John was giving the signal to go.

Lee and I kicked our horses in the belly to go and took off down the hillside with the other Yellowstone members on horseback. The wind blew through my braid that fell down my back heading straight for the wandering cattle. A few of the cowboys created a circle and began pushing them back toward where we had our people at and all we had to do was get them back on our side of the line.

“Looks like things are going our way tonight.” Jake, a bunkhouse ranch hand called over in my direction.

I shouted back at him, suddenly lowering my whole body onto the horse hearing a bullet fly past me and nearly hit one of the cattle. “Maybe they don’t have as much guts as we do - holy shit!”

“Guns up now!” Lee hollered before I yanked my horse around seeing a bunch of Indian’s coming in our direction on horseback with guns too all firing at us.

They began firing in our direction causing the ranch hands and Livestock agents to run around like chickens with their head cut off doing their best to keep the cattle on our side and not get shot in the process. “No! No, hold your fire. Hold your fire!” I drew out my rifle firing at someone who was shooting in my direction watching the guy fall dead off his horse and a few others followed my actions much to Mr. Dutton’s orders.

Gunshots, screaming and whining horses became the only sounds anyone could hear in the area that surrounds us. Riding around on my horse I noticed Lee charging to the edge of the line. “Lee, stay back. It’s not worth it.” I knew he wanted to show that we had won but it was a huge risk.

“I’ll be fine, Alissa!” He shouted back at me, holding his gun in one hand and his other on the saddle reigns while he rode stopping at the edge of the Reservation line.

Kicking my horse in the stomach I raced down to him as fast as I could. Most of the Indian men had drawn back when I saw red and blue police lights reflecting on the grass. “Lee!”

“You want’em back then come and get’em!” Lee taunts watching the men on the other side disappear from sight. He thought we were safe until multiple gunshots rang through the field.

I halted in my tracks sitting on my horse feeling like I was watching the scene in horrible slow motion like you see in the movies when a character dies. “Lee no!” I sobbed out in tears watching his body get hit with bullets and him collapse off the side of his horse without a chance to respond.

John and the others had pulled back by this point so he hadn’t seen what had just happened to his firstborn son. I bolted on horseback as fast as possible to my brother in law. “Lee, Lee no, no, god no.” I stammer out, dismounting my horse and falling on my knees beside his body.

He was bleeding from the center of his chest and his gun was hanging beside his body. I heard a gun cock behind me where I spun around, pointing my rifle at whoever it was. “I’ll let you go safely if you return those cattle onto our side.” The guy who pointed a handgun at me resembled Monica almost.

“Like hell I will!” I growled pulling the trigger and he ducked out of the way, firing a few shots at me.

I scrambled to my feet firing a few at him but missing every time where I ended up hearing the clicking sound meaning I was out of bullets. “Nothing personal.” He replied shooting at me in my left ankle where I collapsed down on my hands and knees.

I gulped scooting backwards with my wounded leg as much as I could manage thinking he was going to kill me until someone shot multiple bullets at the guy. “Aaahh!” I screamed seeing his body drop dead a few steps in front of me and Lee’s dead one.

“Lissa Rae!” Whipping my head around I knew who it was the second I heard them say my nickname. Kayce ran forward lowering his handgun and shoving it in the belt loop of his jeans. He lowered himself down on a knee checking for injuries. “Are you hurt? Any bleeding or discomfort?”

I winced moving my left ankle to try and stand but it didn’t look like that was gonna happen for me. “Just got shot in my ankle. Kayce - what are we going to tell your father about him?” Kayce peaked his head over his shoulder seeing his older brother laying dead right beside us.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

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[nicomundthered]

Dead Of Night- A Bodyguard AU

chapter one: Incomplete and Insecure

summary: Din gets hired to be your bodyguard and you absolutely hate it. Until you don’t.

paring: Din Djarin x fem!reader

tags/warnings: alternate universe, not so loving family, no space-we on earth, sucky home life.

word count: 5k | ao3

a/n: figured I’d give this a try. I’ll be happy to continue if people seem into the idea.

masterlist

“I don’t want a bodyguard.”

The mere thought of it was ridiculous. You were an adult and you didn’t need some random man following you around. The concept was, you can’t stress this enough- ridiculous.

“Don’t be so dramatic. It’s not like he’ll be watching you sleep.”

“But mother…”

“Really, you get this from your father,” her tone was flat.

“What? What do I get from dad?” You were getting annoyed, she was deflecting.

“This- this whole woe is me attitude. You live in a mansion. You have the car of your dreams,” she applied her lipstick in the mirror. “Any clothes or jewelry,” she smacked her lips, “and still you find something to complain about.”

“Oh here we go again,” you rolled your eyes. “Why do you hold all of this above my head? It’s like every nice thing you do for me is written on some checklist, and everytime we fight you use it to throw your ‘kindness’ back in my face.” You took a calming breath and stopped yourself before you said something you couldn’t take back. “You do this every time you know…”

“Do tell me again what a bad mother I am. Tell me how difficult your life is. Please, I implore you to tell me how horrible I am for caring about your safety,” she stood from her makeup chair and walked over to her jewelry closet. “Senator Taylor’s family was threatened, and you know Senator McCarthy’s pool house was broken into — something is going on. I can feel it in my bones and I’ll be damned if something sinister happens to mydaughter.”

“All of that was probably coincidental. I mean people trying to rob the rich isn't exactly a new concept,” you attempted to argue but she had moved on.

She placed an elegant necklace around her neck, “Fasten it dear.”

You walked over to her, fastened the necklace, and then made eye contact with her through the mirror.

She sighed and then said your name, “I know it seems like some big ordeal, but it’s not. You see the way my security team interacts with me, I hardly even notice them. And really I should have assigned you your own before you went to college…times were different then I suppose,” she smiled at you wistfully. “Really, he will just—”

“I have enough people following me around as it is! Between the news and the paparazzi, I just- I feel like I don’t ever just…get to exist. If I pick my nose it will be all over the internet...It’s- it’s claustrophobic.”

She cringed in slight disgust, but then her eyes grew kinder. Eyes that were so charismatic and engaging- they made you feel like the center of her world. You were convinced that that's how she's won every election she's run in.

“Just for a few months, ok? For our peace of mind. And then when all of this blows over, we will discuss the subject again.”

You turned around and put some distance between the two of you. You didn’t like it, you knew she was lying, but you’ve never won an argument with your mother in your entire life. “Only if you promise me, just a few months.”

“You have my word,” she captured your hand, placed it between both of hers, and softly shook up and down. When she dropped it, only her expensive creams remained.

She slid on her high heels, stood quickly, and walked to the door purposefully, “Tell you father he has two hours before he has to meet me for brunch.” She turned back suddenly, “And make sure he doesn’t wear red. It makes him look like he has high blood pressure.”

And with that she was gone. The hurried clicking of her heels echoed throughout the house.

You made your way to your dad’s studio. Which happened to be on the opposite end of the house from your mother’s dressing room. For a long time you assumed that she had planned it that way, but the more you’ve thought about it, you wouldn’t be surprised if it was by your dad’s design.

In fact you’d almost bet on it.

The nostalgic smell of paint wafted out onto the halls. It made you think of a simpler time before both of your parents found their respective successes. In a much smaller home in the suburbs. When you had a dog, and could play on the playground without being stalked and questioned.

“Dad?” you knocked loudly.

The last time you had forgotten to, you walked in, and he was standing on a stool completely naked. Thankfully with his back turned to you. He was working on a prospective piece and claimed that he needed to see his penis from a different angle. Thankfully you couldn’t see the mirror that was beneath him.

He apologized after, saying that he smoked too much and the piece wouldn’t work anyhow. He would need a model to capture what he was going for and that your mother would never allow that kind of scandal.

Which was a perfect example of why they married. Your mother’s feet were so far in the ground they burned, and your dad’s head was so high in the clouds you often wondered if he could see the ground at all.

At one time they were the perfect balance. They helped each other find that happy medium. It helped her become a respected Senator, and it helped him become a world renowned painter.

“Come in sunshine.”

You opened the door and the sounds of smooth jazz caressed you pleasantly. There was always a moment of relief when you heard peaceful music. If he was listening to anything experimental or avant- garde…you never quite knew what you were walking into.

You walked over to his balcony where he was painting something that looked like a pile of mud on the canvas. You knew that it would turn into something beautiful or endearingly wacko, but either way brilliant and captivating.

“She said you are meeting her for brunch in two hours.”

He looked over at you, “Oh…I completely forgot about that.” He scraped some paint off of the canvas and then slapped it back on. He stepped back and decided that he liked what he had done. “I would have tried to get some sleep last night if I had known—”

You laughed, “You are such a liar.”

He chuckled in return then he looked up at you, “Sunshine, why do you look so troubled?” He put his paintbrush down and in three long strides was standing in front of you. He lovingly grabbed your shoulders and brought you into a hug.

He smelled a little strong but that was to be expected. When inspiration hit him he’d sometimes spend days locked away. It had only been two, but you could definitely tell.

“The bodyguard…”

“What bodyguard?” He stepped back in a moment of confusion. It always took him some time to turn off his creative mind and get back to reality.

“The one mom hired for me.”

“Oh! Oh yes, that bodyguard, of course.”

You laughed, “Is there another?”

“I’m sorry,” he chuckled. “Sometimes it takes me a second to get my head on straight.”

“It’s ok. It’s probably the lack of sleep and all of these fumes.” You waved your hand through the air dramatically.

“Ha ha ha, very funny,” he said sarcastically. “You get used to it though,” he winced, “not that you should.”

He turned off his music and sat at his desk. There were papers stacked high and all sorts of small sculptures scattered across. He moved the vine of an overgrown plant out of his way. When he sat a small cloud of dust poofed out from his seat. It was obvious he didn’t sit there frequently.

“So tell me, how is he?”

“The bodyguard?”

He shook his head yes.

“He’s not here yet.”

“Oh? I just thought—” he nervously sat back.

“It’s fine, no I just don’t want one,” you sat in one of the chairs facing his desk – from back when he used to have buyers come over. Now he sells out entire galleries in New York, Toronto, Paris, Madrid, you name it.

“Well I am sorry, but you aren't going to care for my response,” he said with a look of regret.

“Maybe I should just move out. It's way past time and I've been thinking about it lately.”

“I know you've stayed for your mother and I. Sometimes I think you're scared of what would happen to us when you left. That's not a fair thing to ask of your child.”

“You- you, That’s not, I don't know what—”

“You don't have to admit it. I know you,” he smiled and leaned forward onto his messy desk. “I was like you once, believe it or not. I put everything on hold for your mother, which at the time was probably the right thing to do. After all, I made zero dollars a month and she was an up and coming politician. It was the right thing to do and I have no regrets. I listened to my heart and my heart was her, but Sunshine, life is passing you by.”

He was right but he was also wrong. True, you did help keep your parents from killing each other, but the real reason you haven't left yet was you weren't exactly sure who you were. Like literally, everyone (your mother) dictated every facet of your life – your degree, who you dated, how you dressed, even things like which concerts you could attend, and the clothes you wore. And so you were left with something that felt like an empty shell sometimes.

Too passive, too submissive, too ready to please everyone. You just cared too much about people who didn't care what it was doing to you in return. As long as they were happy, your feelings didn't matter. Which scared you because without all of this who even were you. What did you want with your life? You had no clue.

“Dad,” you sniffled.

“No listen. I know I'm not a very serious person and you've caught me doing some…interesting things, but take me seriously just for a moment please.”

You nodded.

“I appreciate everything you've done for us. All of the arguments, all of the angry hateful things that we've said to each other – you were there for most of them. You somehow always managed to help us get through them.”

His shoulders tensed and his voice slightly shook, “We should have been better for you, you deserved better. But- but things are changing. In a week I’m starting my European tour with my exhibit. And your mother is about to begin her campaign. We won't be here very much and it's a shame that you will be.”

He got up and moved to the front of his desk. He moved something that slightly resembles a whale out of the way, and half leaned- half sat in front of you, “I know you sneak out sometimes. I wish it wasn't necessary but if your mother caught you – I understand. It's just- you're plenty old enough to do whatever you want. You shouldn't feel like you have to hide and sneak around, it's not healthy.”

“I don't do anything crazy, I just don’t want to hear her go on and on about it,” you interjected defensively.

You went to some parties, and occasionally though not often, you went to a few nightclubs. You always went at night and wore your hair and makeup completely different, it was amazing the cameras hadn't captured pictures of you yet. But you were as cautious as you could be- never drank too much, never went home with random guys.

“I know- I know I trust you,” he smiled, “But I’m rambling and I want to say two things to you. First of all I want you to live your life and stop worrying about us.” You opened your mouth to finally tell him how you felt, but he raised his hand, stopping you, and continued, “Freedom is an important thing, however, what happened to the Tucker’s and the Montgomery’s…”

“Taylor’s and McCarthy’s.”

“That’s who I said. Regardless, it's serious stuff.” His eyes always shimmered with mischief, they did not currently. “I can't believe I’m going to say this, but I couldn't agree with your mother more. Even if you moved out — if they wanted a senator's daughter it would be easy to get you. I am not ok with that.”

“Well what if the bodyguard is the bad guy? That happens in lots of movies.” He didn't move a muscle and you felt your fight leave you, if your dad was worried it was serious.

He sighed, “The head of your mother’s security team recommended him. He has some kind of really extensive training…background or something like that, or at least I think that's right.”

“That's all you know about him? Or think you know about him.” you scoffed. That was all he knew about the man now in charge of your life.

“Look- despite our differences, I trust your mother. And if she trusts her team, then so do I.”

He picked up an old paintbrush from his desk, oh there you are, he said to himself. And then walked back over to his painting, done with the conversation, done with you.

His art would always come first. As he looked back at his painting the worry lines left his face, and you could almost see his head float high above his shoulders.

You stood huffing loudly, whipping your body around and walked to the door. Just as you had your hand on the handle, the music resumed.

“Oh and hey,” he looked at you almost in a daze, “she said to wear that red shirt you love.” And with that, you smiled, feeling quite satisfied with yourself, and went to talk to Frank.

Frank was the head of your mother’s security team, you weren’t even positive your dad knew his name if you were being honest.

He was in his early fifties, attractive, with gray hair and a trimmed beard. He was tall, though not as tall as your dad, which for some reason amused you, and very fit. He worked out twice a day and ate an extremely clean diet. If your mother wasn't so worried about her image you knew that she would flirt with him- but you had never seen any evidence of that.

You didn't really know much about him admittedly, just that he was a good man, and a father. True you had never had your own personal security, but Frank had taken you to school more than a few times when you were younger – your parents often forgot or were too busy.

He had also gotten you out of some tricky situations.

Once, when you were eleven, you were at the beach with your mother and a couple of her politician friends and their kids. Basically, for you, it was a playdate with extraordinarily boring kids. You dared them to swim in the ocean, and they said crap like their mother forbade them, and whined about the water being shark infested.

So for some reason unbeknownst to you at the time, you took it as a challenge and dove into the oncoming waves. Your mother called out to you quicker than you'd like, but out of sheer spite you swam out deeper and deeper.

As it turns out, sharks weren't the reason for the adults' strict rules- riptides were.

And just when you were certain of your impending doom, Frank came swimming to the rescue. You trusted him implicitly after that.

The only other time you care to mention was when you were at your best friend's seventeenth birthday party. You got too drunk and didn't know what to do. So you called Frank. He took care of you and didn’t even care that you vomited in his personal car. And maybe most importantly he kept it a secret.

He had a daughter a couple of years younger than you. And you always got her a gift for her birthday. You tried a couple of times to buy him something nice, but he rejected it like it insulted him. So instead, you buy her things.

So yeah you knew Frank. In some ways he was more of a parent to you than either of biological parents.

“Frank?”

He said your name with delight as he turned to you with a steaming cup of black coffee in his hand. “It's been awhile since you've visited the dungeon.” That was what you had named the 'observation room’. The room was in the basement, with a desk that faced loads of screens, a mini fridge, a coffee maker, and a long silver couch. There were no lights but the computer screens softly lit the room. When you were younger you were frightened to go inside. You had said that it looked like a dungeon and the name had stuck.

And yes you didn't visit the dungeon frequently, but you often hid from everyone in the empty bedroom next door. It was your favorite place to read and take naps.

“I have a question for you.”

“I wonder…what it could possibly be about,” he smirked and sipped on his coffee.

“Funny. Real funny.”

He laughed into his mug, spilling a little on his crisp black shirt. You winced but he didn't even flinch as the hot liquid touched his chest.

“No but seriously, who is this random dude you have hired to protect me?”

“Random dude,” he muttered and shook his head. “If you knew how many people I’ve looked into and interviewed, you wouldn’t ask me that.”

“Frank…it’s not that I don’t trust you. I know nothing about him, and if I have to have him following me around- I’d just like it to not be a complete stranger if that makes sense.”

“Of course it makes sense.” He looked back to the monitors and when he was satisfied that nothing was amiss he sat his mug down and faced you. “What do you want to know?”

“Oh gee I don’t know, his credentials, what was his last job, why did he start doing this, just- everything…”

“I won’t tell you his life story if that’s what you're asking of me. That’s his to tell and I don't know very much.” He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and dabbed the spill on his shirt. “And I’ll be honest with you, he will be around you constantly, but he's not doing this to make friends with you. Your mother only speaks to me when there's an update to her schedule or she needs me to do something.”

“Right I know that, and I- I wasn’t asking for anything that personal—”

“I will give you a little something that might ease your mind, maybe make you not so scared of him.”

“I’m not scared of him!” you raised your voice a little too loud. You grimaced, “Sorry, I just- its weird to have someone following me around is all, no offense.”

“None taken. But I promise, you lucked out- he's a Mandalorian.”

“Ok? And that's good because..what is that exactly?”

He chuckled, “It means he's an absolute badass.” You looked at him with a look that said aaand?

“He was a student of the Mandalor.” You raised an eyebrow in confusion.

“I sometimes forget that you're not into all this stuff. It's old, ancient even. He was one of the last ones if not the last.”

“Last?”

“Well he was, until he took off his mask and began all of his work with the special forces.”

“Mask? You really aren't making much sense right now.”

“I’m sorry but you won’t trick me into saying much else about him, but…” You swore that his eyes lit up. “If I had to compare it to something it's kinda like a martial art. I'm not even sure if that does it justice. I’ll just say If you think shaolin monks are extreme…I don’t even know much if I’m being honest with you. I’m hoping he’ll talk to me about it eventually.”

He looked excited talking about it, almost nerdy, “But honor is their main part of their creed. They don’t take it lightly and—”

“I’m not trying to be rude, but all because this ex-Mandalorian once followed a creed that focused on honor - we just trust him?”

“It’s much more- extreme than that. You should look into it or if you really insist, you could ask him yourself.” He looked at his watch, “He should be here in an hour.”

“Wait, what? I didn’t think he was coming today.”

“He was wanting to get to work as soon as I hired him.”

“Wow, ok – a warning might have been nice.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m serious, you won’t even know he’s there unless you want to.”

What a strange thing for him to say. You smiled and quickly excused yourself. The last thing you needed to do was fuss at Frank.

Though, you did need to get out of the house. You were sweating and suddenly felt very anxious. Just like with anything in life, you thought that you had more time to somehow weasel your way out of this. But now you felt that your time was precious. What do you do with your last moments as a free woman?

You decided that you’d just go for a long walk. Boring, you know but not much made you feel as free as a walk did. And it would be your last one without a Michael Myers trailing behind you.

Din was excited for this job.

He had been out of work for six months now recovering from his injuries.

After fifteen years in the special forces, his last bout of injuries forced him to retire. No Purple Heart or medal of honor, the work he did was silent, only top government officials even knew of it. Though Din never did anything for the accolades, so they could keep their medals it didn't bother him in the slightest.

His life was full of training. That's all he's really ever known, and once his body had recovered he was for the first time in his life bored. He didn't have much- very few possessions, an old car, a shitty apartment, he suddenly felt like he had nothing.

Nothing until this job.

Apparently it's a common thing for ex-military personnel, veterans, to find work in private security. Or at least that's what his minimal research told him. So that's what he quickly decided on.

Because most of his file ‘resume’, if not all of it was classified- instead of looking bare it looked impressive to the right eyes. Large black lines covered page after page after page. If he were trying to get a job at a bank, no way would he be hired, but depending on the person reading it- he appeared quite the hero.

He applied to twenty different positions and all twenty got back immediately wanting to hire him.

Choosing the right fit for him was admittedly easy. He didn't want to guard any elderly. He feared that that would be just as boring as doing nothing, and that condensed the list to just six. Then he realized that kids were probably also a nightmare but for the opposite reasons, and so that left two.

Then for the final decision, he did something very unprofessional – he flipped a coin.

He pulled his old silver corolla into the gates of a stunning residence. Bright flowers were blooming and he had never seen such a well manicured lawn.

He drove past the fountain on the circular driveway to the motor court. Or at least to what he assumed was the motor court. And since there were cars parked there, he felt fairly confident.

Din didn’t really get nervous. Since he was a boy he’d been put in extremely stressful situations and as an adult he was one of the few that didn’t sweat under pressure. But this had him…out of his element.

His car was a piece of junk, he wouldn’t lie. He had to tinker with it every other weekend. The air conditioning hadn’t worked in over a year. In his defense, this is the longest time he’s ever been stationary. And in the past he didn’t often even need his car. But as he passed all of the luxury vehicles with their fresh coat of wax, it made him a little self conscious.

A man in a black suit directed him to his parking spot, which was conveniently behind the garage where no one could see it. He honestly didn’t even blame them.

He was led to the front of the home and all of the sculptures and columns seemed somehow even more massive up close.

When he entered the home Din felt a trickle of sweat roll down his back as he looked around. There were chandeliers of crystal, floors of marble, and two grand staircases. It was impressive.

He had been in mansions before. His assignments had him go to many different locations but it was his first time standing in one without an urgent objective. He could just look around and admire his surroundings.

“Ah there he is.” Frank came in and offered his hand, “Frank Stevenson.”

“Din Djarin,” Din shook his hand firmly.

“It’s impressive isn’t it?” He looked around the grand foyer.

“Yes it is.”

“Don’t worry, a detailed floor plan is in your room.”

“My room?” Din questioned.

“Yes, surely I mention it?”

“Um, no sir you didn’t.” He stayed calm as usual, but he didn’t like being misled. He hadn’t planned on living here. He hadn’t even brought a change of clothes.

“Well if a pay raise is in order I’m sure the senator won’t mind—”

“That won’t be necessary. I just wasn’t expecting to live here.”

“Just while her parents are away. You see we work for the senator, we go where she goes and soon she’ll be hitting the campaign trail. You are the only one in charge of her daughter so it’s non negotiable. You have to stay here when we are gone. I hope that’s not a dealbreaker for you. It would be an honor to have you.”

“Her father?”

“He’ll be in Europe with his art.”

Din looked around, considering for a moment, “I suppose there are worse places to have to live.”

Frank laughed, “Very true. I’m glad to have you on. Follow me.”

He showed him around and made comfortable small talk, then said, “We will need a code name for you.”

“Mando is the code name I normally go by.”

“Mando it is. Highly impressive.”

“Thanks.” Din turned his head away, not interested in talking about his past, and continued walking.

When they finally made it to Din’s room he opened the door and showed him in.

The room felt larger than his whole apartment. Strangely enough the first thing he noticed was how tall the ceiling was, and that he loved how it was lit. Then his eyes slowly scanned downward and looked at the rest of the room.

Almost everything was a shade of gray except for three orange pillows on the bed. Speaking of, the bed was probably a king but he couldn’t tell the difference, with two bedside tables on either side. Both had a couple of books on them, one he noticed had been bookmarked. There was a large mirror on the wall facing the bed. It also had a private bathroom and massive walk-in closet.

“Sorry, no window. But you are next door to the dungeon so that'll be convenient.”

“Dungeon?” His eyes slightly widened as he looked at Frank.

“Oh-” he almost bent over laughing, he said your name “when she was younger that’s what she called it. It’s the observation room.”

“I see,” Din almost smirked.

You got back from your walk later than anticipated. You were sweaty because your anxiety made your pace quicker than normal- at a few points it may or may not have turned into a full on sprint.

You were still tense and pissed but it was much more manageable.

Looking at the time you realized he’d be here any minute. You moved quickly, turning the corner without looking, and ran straight into a brick wall.

It took you far too long to regain your composure, you knew you looked like a deer in the headlights. You looked him up and down. Your eyes roamed without your consent. You were just taken by surprise, he was very handsome. “Oh excuse me.”

He said your name in question and quickly glanced at your sweat covered body.

“Yes?” You were getting pretty embarrassed now. You wished he’d give you at least thirty minutes to shower, put on flattering clothes, and maybe apply some mascara and then give this a redo.

“I’m your bodyguard,” he smiled.

“Oh shit, no.”

----------

#not for you rae 💖 #din djarin x reader #my fics

[zoroshonkingbazonkadonkas]

✰ about me ✰ ao3 ✰ fic masterpost ✰ send me zosan fic requests<3 ✰ spotify ✰ goodreads ✰

small very tiny intro: Navya, she/her (they/them is chill too) adult, in name if not game fair warning: there are a Lot of spoilers on here (especially one piece since im on my rewatch) a more expansive intro's here

Tagging system was so far non existent, but i'm trying to be a Little bit more organised so here's some tags:

#my beloved - for things i like- art, fanart, some beautiful post etc

#one piece rewatch 2024- the tag im using to tag one piece posts bc im rewatching it

#toe & aftg hell yeah

#things im so fucking grateful for - self explanatory

#letters - for asks

#imp - for things that are important

#save- for. stuff? interchangeable w imp

#whoa (for whoa)

#nav shenanigans- a tag i will be using when ive done something (it could be funny or horrible or something im proud of, def one of those)

#later- for stuff i need to read/ watch later

#avi shenanigans- for stuff my brother does

#cute

#nav rants lowkey- for tiny rants

#nav rants highkey- for major ones (there will be colourful hindi cussing involved in both most times)

#art ref

#achievements

#writing ideas

Links I find important under the cut >:]

Daily click for palestine

Fundraiser masterpost

Resources for palestine, sudan etc

Dealing with executive dysfunction

important reminder wrt creating

Hacks to feel better physically quickly

basic cooking

A bunch of very very important links

Life advice??

expressing frustration

Pain scale, Fatigue scale, mental health pain scale

cute little VERY important writing post

essay writing

i. dont know how to explain this. cat and writing

writing advice

writing fight scenes

more writing advice (imp)

something (writing)

ao3 filter guide more ao3 filtering

how to google effectively

commenting on ao3 when you dont know what to say

murder strut

dealing with worst case scenarios

this blew my mind. multiplying kudos on ao3!!!!!

you can leave FAN ART in the COMMENTS of a fic on ao3

becoming an adult cheatsheet

interesting games to play improv

what to do when you see reposted art without credit

FREE online courses

things to eat when u dont have a lot of food at home

cute pokemon reminder stickers

WRITING NEEDS this looks very promising

stuck on a writing scene

kudos crab for when you need it (to bless ur writing endeavours)

how to format your story, a crash course

bongo cat

resources? for artists i think

cat candleholder

dialogue tags

for writer's block

colour thesaurus!!!!!

writing skin

southern accent

gemstones

CRACK PROMPTS SNDXWS D

how to navigate web pages having paywalls etc

documented historic names

search engine alternatives

pro tip for trans ppl that kinda changed my life

disney + pirating

things u can do on ao3!!!!

#add-ons are nice and appreciated #my beloved #letters #imp #save #later #whoa #avi shenanigans #dad shenanigans #writing ideas

[greetingfromthedead]

C36: Sign of Appreciation

For more information on the series (tags, CW, etc) click the banner!

Series Rating: 18+ / Explicit

Chapter: 36/84

Words: 1.9k

No particular warnings for this chapter.

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"Would you mind staying here?" Vash asks you carefully as he finishes his breakfast. "I mean, at the inn, you can go back to our room."

"What? Why?" Your eyebrows move into a frown.

"Don't ask me that! Just... stay put for like half an hour!" He blinks his puppy-dog eyes at you.

"Every time I let you out of my sight, you end up getting shot at." You don't give in.

"I won't, I promise!" His voice is still pleading, and his hands gently squeeze yours under the table. His eyes are nailed to yours; they are so expressive and full of hope.

"No!" you say firmly, not falling for his tricks.

"Pleaseeeee! Do it for me? I promise, I'll start screaming really loudly if I get shot at, so you can come and rescue me!" His face creeps closer to yours, as if to make sure you don't miss the act he's putting on.

"Argh, fine!" You turn your face away, acting angry, but he sees right through it and places a light kiss on your cheek. "But I won't patch you up this time!"

He lets out a light laugh as he stands up. He can't contain his excitement; he looks like he'll start jumping around any second. He helps you up too and gives your hand another squeeze.

"I'll go to our room. Half an hour! If you're late, I'll come and haul your ass back myself!" You point your finger at him. You really don't feel comfortable being separated; it feels like something horrible is lurking around the corner every time you don't have tabs on him. You're convinced he could get himself killed at any moment between his self-sacrificing personality and inability to stay out of trouble.

He smiles brightly at you as an answer and gives you a light wave of his left hand before leaving the inn. You leave the money for the food and go upstairs into the dingy little room you share with Vash. The house is small, so to make sure they can house as many guests as possible, the rooms themselves are tiny too. As a result, it is less popular than the bigger hotel in town, but you don't mind; it's more secluded here, and you feel like you can keep an eye on everything.

You open the window to let in some air and lay on the bed. Your body feels heavy and tired, a very strange sensation for you to have. Sure, you haven't slept much as of late since you've been in the desert; the voices kept you up the last two nights in the inn too, even in Vash's arms. But none of it matters; you don't need sleep just like you don't need other human things like food, water, or even air. You stretch out and realize it's all coming from your head. Your mind is tired; the relentless voices haunt you day in and day out. The headaches have also become more frequent, but you try to brave through them; you don't want to burden Vash with something he can't do anything about. Days spent in hotels or inns are easier; there are more distractions to keep you occupied, and Vash has more things to talk about. The empty desert makes it very hard for your mind to stay with you and it keeps wandering off.

"Don't panic, love! I'm back!" Vash storms through the door. "Sorry, I'm late!"

You look over to him; he has only just left. He is out of breath and is leaning against the door he closed. You sit up on the bed, your legs criss-crossed. As you lean forward, you look at him, confused. What has he gone out to do, and how is he already back? You notice a lump under his jacket, and you stare at it. His hand goes onto his chest, covering the lump.

"Hey now! My eyes are up here!" He exclaims, and you see him pointing to his eyes with his free hand.

You chuckle, curiosity taking hold of you. You lean further, trying to catch a peek of whatever he's hiding. He pushes himself off the door and comes closer. His free hand reaches out to you.

"Come, come! Stand up!" He smiles brightly; he seems just as excited as he was before he left. His fingers curl up, signaling for you to grab hold of them. As you place your hand in his, he pulls you out of bed, a bit rougher and more hasty than you expected, and as you get your feet onto the floor, his arm wraps around your waist, not letting you stumble for even a second.

"What has gotten into you?" you laugh.

"Close your eyes!" his excited voice says by your ear.

"Bossy!" you tease him, but do as he says. He lets go, his hand moves away from your body, and you hear the rustling of cloth, some metallic clinks, and a little thud on the bed. He takes one of your hands, and you feel something brushing against your skin; it seems a bit stiff and smooth. He pulls it more upwards before doing the same with your other arm and settling what feels like straps onto your shoulders. You feel something similar on your back through your shirt. Part of it seems to lightly touch your sides under your arms, and the sensation confuses you. A desire to peek through your eyelashes takes over, but it would break your heart to ruin Vash's surprise, which he seems so excited about. His hand tracks through under your arms, his touch gentle against your ribs, and you feel the material against your skin a bit better. It reminds you of the knife sheath around your thigh, but it's bigger and on both sides.

Vash takes hold of something connected to the straps. As you feel a slight tug and hear metal clinks, you feel another strap move in under your bust. Vash's fingers are fiddling with something.

"Hey now. It's rude to feel me up like this!" You joke, your hands finding his arms, feeling the muscles move before he lets go of you. He ignores your words and touches, taking your shoulders, turning you around, and leading a few steps forward. You feel him behind you as he leans closer.

"You can look now!" His voice is dripping with happiness.

As you open your eyes, you see he has faced you towards the old and dirty mirror on the wall. It shows you and him behind you, a wide smile plastered on his face. As you pay closer attention to yourself, you see the black straps running over you, one under your chest with a silver buckle in the middle; two more come over your shoulders and disappear under your arms. The black leather isn't too noticeable over your black shirt, but it looks like a curious detail. You lift your arm and turn around a bit. You see something like holsters or sheaths under there on a larger piece of material. As you turn more, you see that the strap on your front runs around your torso to a metal ring in the middle of your back. Another band goes straight up to another ring, from which your shoulder belts start.

"What is this?" you ask as you turn towards Vash with a smile. You don't quite understand what this is supposed to be. He picks up a metal box from the bed, placing one of his hands over the lid.

"Well, you said it's too soon for a ring, but you definitely deserve something special—for everything you have done for me... and for simply being this remarkable yourself. So..." He moves in an exaggerated flourish, his gestures as large as his spindly limbs allow, as he gets down on a knee, head bowed low, hands holding up the box that he opens. "Here you are, my sweet lady!"

You are still smiling as you look at Vash and the content of the box. You see six throwing knives in it. They are beautifully made, with a ring at the end of the handle. You pick one up to inspect it. The blade is sharp and symmetrical, as it tapers into a point. They are black, with the exception of the ring. Your finger fits into it perfectly, and you twirl it around.

"Get up, dummy!" you chuckle as he is still bowing down, facing the floor. Vash shoots up a cheeky smile and gets on his feet again. "Thank you! They are beautiful!"

"I hoped you'd like them. That way, next time, you won't have to grab the butter knives. Just... you know... keep going like you have; don't do too much harm." He tries to seem serious.

"You don't have to tell me that." You sound disappointed as you look at him, the knife twirling around your finger.

He puts the open box on the bed and takes two of the knives. He gently pulls your arm out and slides the knives carefully into the sheaths. He does the same with the other three knives, sliding them into their spots on your other side, only leaving you with the one in your hand.

"How did you even get this?" you ask him, realizing this is not something you can buy from just anywhere. You slide the knife into its sheath; the sensation is strange; it goes in well, and you can probably pull it out in a flash, but it doesn't feel loose or like it would fall out on accident.

"I knew there was a good smith here specializing in knives, so I put in an order." He looks smug and very proud of himself.

"When did you put in that order?" You are still lost; his explanation only confuses you more.

"The day before yesterday, when we got here, I thought we might have to wait for longer, but since he had the base stuff ready, he told me to pick it up today," he beams.

"So that explains why you chose to stay here for four days... But when did you go to the smith? I still don't understand; you were with me the whole time."

"You went to wash almost as soon as we got here," he smirks again.

"Is that why you chose this inn instead of the hotel? Because it doesn't even have a proper shower, just a washbasin... cause you know otherwise you would have been invited into the shower too..." You start piecing things together.

"I will neither confirm nor deny any of that!" he laughs, his hands tracking along your elbows.

"Well... thank you again. I love it." You smile up at him, not minding his shenanigans at all.

"It has another welcome feature..." The look in his eyes gets even more cheeky, and his hands move up to grab the belts running over your shoulders, and he pulls you closer.

"Oh my!" you exclaim, surprised as you are drawn into him, Vash lifting you nearly off the ground by the harness, your toes still on the floor. "Careful, I'm even more armed now than I was before."

His head leans closer, the soft blond hair tickling your skin as his face finds your neck.

"I love for my woman to have an edge! Turns me on!" His words tingle against you, and your hands grab onto his coat as you lean back a bit.

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#tempest wind #fanfic #fanfiction #writing #Trigun #trigun stampede #tristamp #Humanoid Typhoon #vashxreader #vash x reader #x reader #plant boi #Vash the Stampede

[katzynia]

Writing Pattern Tag Game

Rules: List the first line of your last 10 posted fics and see if there's a pattern! (I'm going to use the first few sentences/the first paragraph as "line" is up to interpretation IMO )

(Thanks for the tag @bittercape)

Hold on (to this lullaby)

The kitchen lights up with a decisive click of the switch. Alfred blinks.

2. Kindle and char

“I object!” Slade shouted as he kicked the doors open. For a moment, the massive wood tried to resist, magic flashing on its surface, but, creaking, it bent under the greater force. The double doors slammed open with all the dramatic flair one could hope for. Slade let his smirk grow into an obnoxious grin and strode in, Rose flanking him a few paces back. Deathstroke danced at the back of his mind, alert but not alarmed, enjoying the promise of lovely little payback waiting for them.

3. Smell a cookie baking (what are we making)

”Help me,” Slade hisses on the phone, and Jason – a horrible, terrible little brat that he is – laughs.

4. Call me maybe

”Heyyyyy,” a vaguely familiar voice says in Slade’s ear, stretching the vowel frankly unacceptably, completely undeterred by Slade’s customarily terse greeting that does not invite such shenanigans. Especially since he is in the middle of a job. Granted, in the boring part that consists wholly of waiting, but it is the principle of the thing.

5. Straddling the line (in discord and rhyme)

Jason whirls around to look behind him, guns raised. A thin rat sprinting across the alley nearly gets another hole in its coat. Jason pulls his hands back closer to his body, but the feeling coiling in the bottom of his belly doesn’t abate. His hands twitch, fingers longing to hook around the triggers and start shooting. Unfortunately, all he’d get would be shadows.

6. strangers looking from afar (getting closer)

The second wave of thugs dropped in, and Slade was getting impatient.

7. Shifting in the wind

Well, Slade contemplated philosophically, now that his thoughts were no longer an amorphous soup, this was one way to solve the problem of what to do with his free week between jobs. He had vaguely thought about going to a cabin in the middle of the woods far away from people, but. Well.

8. Let it bleed

In the cover of darkness, Slade waits. Ambient sounds of the night, full of life here in the middle of nowhere, go on around him, fluttering by him, but nothing catches his interest. No yells, no alarms, no frantic movements. Nothing to interrupt the almost tranquil calm enveloping the castle.

9. Connectivity issues (you seem to be having)

Slade should really stop accepting jobs in Gotham, no matter how tempting the pay for an easy job. It never stayed easy. “You gotta be shitting me!” A case in point.

10. Eyes (wide) shut

Len sighs. This job is already one of the most boring he’s ever been on, and that’s saying something. He thinks he’d rather take some infighting and muscle flexing than this tense silence and standing around. Nothing of note is going to happen tonight. He doesn’t even know why he’s here.

Ah, patterns. I like to think I do intrigue with slam openings. :D One-line starts are very typical for me (you know, for emphasis), and I always (okay there might be an exception somewhere) start in media res, mostly for intrigue reasons. I also like to establish POV character fast, cause I like to write very close/limited third person, hence it's very important to know whose head one is in.

Anyway, if you notice / have noticed patterns in my openings (or writings in general), I'd be super interested to hear about them

Tagging: @notherdeadrobin @nonbinaryjaybird @aziraphalalala

#writing games #my writings #ask games

[wizkiddx]

i just had the cutest idea at least in my head and would LOVE if u could do a blurb? where tom is trying to measure your ring size to propose while your asleep, but then you wake up and catch him.

this is v v cute! I hope this is what u want, sorry if it didn't translate I found it a bit tricky aha

summary: tom gets caught preparing for a very big moment

warnings: v small reference to smut

//////////////////////////////

Sleep always had been, and always will be, an important thing in your life. Naturally then, any source of interruption, was met with some….some hostility. Maybe it was your annoying flatmates as a student, who insisted on playing the worst drum and bass till 4 am every night; maybe your neighbours car alarm, which seemed to be set off by the lightest gust of wind; or maybe your loving- if slightly infuriating -boyfriend.

Tom had just got back from a trip abroad and you’d had a quiet evening in- consisting of pizza, a long forgotten film playing and lots and lots of laughs. As much as you loved his family and friends, celebrating with a fancy dinner and lots of drink - there was nothing better than a night in. It was what you’d both desperately needed too, just actual quality time with the both of you living in the moment, forgetting everything else outside the four walls of your flat.

Needless to say, you’d ended up right between the sheets and you honestly couldn’t remember falling asleep. But now, barely conscious, you did notice your fingers being moved and fiddled with. With a groan you limply pulled them away, rolling over to chase Tom’s body heat - which seemed to have disappeared. His presence hadn’t though, you could tell even with your eyes shut due to his little coo.

“Shh darling…. go back to sleep.” And with a mumbled incomprehensible response, you tried to - even if you personal heater appeared to be in hiding.

Yet then, barely 30 seconds later, the bed dipped weirdly again; Tom’s grasp lightly tugged at the arm you’d crossed over your body. Fighting against it, you snatched your arm away and groaned incoherently once again. Again you got a the most whispered and soft sounding reply from Tom. “Shhh Y/n/n…. come on, work with me here.” Clearly you were half asleep, not really paying any attention to to his words, so huffed - shifting again so you we lying half on your back, half on your side, your left hand lying on the pillow next to your head.

And yet again, barely a minute later, you were sure you heard him chuckle before the bed wobbled as he crawled up it. You could feel his shin brushing against your side as he once again went to grab your hand. And that- that was the last straw.

“What the fuck are you doing?!”

The sight you were greeted with was not one you expected. Tom kneeling next to you, with bed hair and all, looking like a deer caught in headlights - literally too, the flashlight from his phone illuminated the otherwise pitch black room. His eyes bugged out his head, while he frantically fumbled with his phone in an attempt to get the light off.

“Nonononono” Muttering as if you weren’t there, Tom obviously struggled to find the right button to shut it off - giving you amply opportunity to notice the other object in his lap.

A yellow tape measure?

Why the hell he was measuring you while you slept, completely unawares, was beyond you. The boy hand some explaining to do - primarily because… he interrupted your sleep.

“Tom what the fuck?”

“I’m so sorry I-I just….just go back to sleep love.” It was weird, how he seemed defeated? He looked upset, and was doing that thing where he nervously ran his fingers through his brown curls.

“Not until you tell me what the hell you’re doing.” Sticking firmly, you reached over to flick the bedside light on, just as he finally got the torch off. The warm golden light illuminated to whole room, allowing you to more clearly assess the situation. The brunette was sat so he were almost leaning over you, with the tape measure but also you now noticed a little notebook and pen sat to the side. His despairing look had you immediately forgiving the interruption to your night- everything, melting away to concern. “What’s going on T?”

“You um-you weren’t supposed to-fuck! I’m sorry love I just-“ Reacting to his embarrassed ramblings, you sat up properly to cup his his cheeks with both your hands.

“Hey take a breath yeah? Then tell me why you’re being all creepy and sizing me up for a coffin or something?” He laughed breathily at that, but it was a smile that didn’t meet his eyes.

“I wasn’t- I… can we just forget this happened?” He already started to get off the bed, wrapping the tape up in a very hurried manner. With a scowl you shook your head, leaping up to grab the yellow ribbon out his hands before he could fight back.

At that point it was too late for Tom. You saw the way the tape was labelled, not with cms or inches. Instead it was letters of the alphabet, starting at G and ending at Z. You would’ve been confused, except the fact you’d used this weird scale before, when you and your best friend got matching promise rings the other month.

Tom had been trying to measure your ring size.

You couldn’t help but let out a little ‘oh’ as it clicked - making Tom sigh heavily, still looking at you with worried and terrified eyes. It took a minute for you to face him, smiling weakly with a little gleam growing across your eyes.

“We should- we should uh, let’s go back to bed yeh?” Stammering through, you already almost forced the the tape back into his hands. Wordlessly he nodded jerkily and placed both the notebook, the tape and his phone on the bedside - as you flicked the lamp off.

Obviously, it was awkward as hell. Right now Tom knew you knew - he was less convinced though on how you reacted. Now he was doubting whether you wanted that- if you wanted to be his wife. The silence was defeneing, the bedsheets the only noise to interrupt as you both settled back onto the pillows. Tom left a bit on no-mans land in the middle, not wanting to push it.

Really there was no reason to not move and cuddle up to him, even slightly cruel. You knew Tom was worried that he’d fucked up massively. You could hear his breathing shake, as you both stared up at the ceiling. Maybe it was slightly horrible, but you couldn’t help but feel insanely blissfully happy. Tom was your future and it was good to know he was starting to get the ball rolling.

“I’m a size N” You whispered up to the ceiling “just for the record.” You both swivelled to look at each other simultaneously, your smirk completely overwhelmed by the smile of pure joy that grew on Tom’s face. Yes the room was dark and you could barely see, but that image might just be one that lives forever in your memory - as your absolute favourite.

“Just-just so we’re on the same page… um, thats your fourth finger? Left hand?”

Finally moving from the awkward position, you nestled your head into the crook of his neck, legs wrapping round his. You chose not to answer super specifically, because it seemed like he was asking more than just one question there. Just very broad and very open to interpretation answer.

“Yes and… and um yes too…just for the record”

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