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glitxhwayventeen · 2 years

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The Lucky One

Hendery

Characters: Hendery x female reader

Warnings: twisted sense of humor about disabilities, love triangle, depression mentions, disability struggles, mentions of partying, mentions of drinking/drugging, homelessness mentions, dark jokes, fight scene sort of, i think that’s it but let me know if I missed anything!

Author’s Note: I clicked the wrong thing so this is a mess and it posted before it was finished. I will be fixing it within the next day or so. But Please don’t take any of the jokes made about the main characters disability seriously. My family has a warped sense of humor about our own medical issues (me included) and it’s just how i naturally pictured the character to be about hers too! It wasn’t meant to upset anyone!

Please remember that all of these chapters and the content within them are a work of fiction! They’re just for fun/entertainment!

Watch It All Burn Masterlist

The Lucky One: Part 2

Mostly🥀

Bold= Dialogue Italics= Thoughts Pink= Cantonese Blue=Native Language Red=Korean (Since all the characters would normally use Mandarin as their preferred language being from China and all)

Tag List-

After being on a plane for hours on end sitting next to some slobbering idiot, Kunhang was just dying to plant his aching body in bed and surround himself in his tranquil pillows and bellowing blankets to sleep. But even as the car consisting of his alpha, his alpha’s mate, and himself pulled up to their shared home’s driveway, he couldn’t help but feel his heart pumping a million miles a minute.

He was so exhausted only moments ago he really wasn’t sure he’d even be able to make it through the front door. But, as if a light switch had suddenly been flickered on, a rush of adrenaline and nerves began firing throughout his body. Something just felt so… off. He just couldn’t explain what.

“So you dreading being back yet Guanheng?” Yueguang joked while they were sat in the car waiting for her mate to unload some of the bags before they began their way into the house.

One would think he would be considering he hadn’t even been able to stay as long as he wanted to. Sicheng and Daiyu had their son and now he was an uncle and, though part of him was stoked for that and it factored into him leaving sooner than intended, he wasn’t looking forward to the long nights of the baby crying and the entire house smelling like crap every time he pooped.

So a small part of him wasn’t exactly elated at going back solely for that reason. But a greater part of him would just be glad he wouldn’t have to hear the newly depressed Dejun whining on and on about Yangyang’s new mate and how annoying she was.

“Believe it or not,” He hoarsely spoke as he listened to his own heart beat in his ears, “I think I might actually be… excited to be home.”

The older girl breathed out a chuckle, quickly unbuckling her seatbelt and clicking open her door once Kun signaled it was time for them to go inside, “Really? I would’ve figured you of all of us would be the one to already miss home as soon as you got back.” She shrugged, gesturing him to follow her out of the car.

It was true, Kunhang loved being back in Macau. The youngest three boys in the pack were the only ones who still got along well with their families, were accepted by their families, or even still had any reason to go revisit the country to see their families since most now lived elsewhere due to them having to flee so suddenly. And since they couldn’t all go at once on their constant visits as it would leave their small pack too vulnerable, they took short turns so everyone got their chance to see their loved ones or go on trips.

Except this time, the doe eyed boy was able to extend his visit longer than usual because his parents bought him his ticket for his birthday. It wasn’t like he could refuse the gesture they had so thoughtfully given him even if he wanted to, they were still his parents after all. Besides, it wasn’t like he wasn’t happy to comply. Hendery loved being home.

He loved seeing his sisters and his parents, all of whom treated him as if he was the most precision treasure to have ever walked the earth because he was the baby and only boy of the family. He was even worried that he would already want to go back to his homeland as soon as he landed in Korea. Even through most of the drive, he was already starting to miss the all too familiar smell of his mom cooking dinner in the kitchen and the pestering sound of his sisters bickering while him and his dad laughed at their sibling rivalry.

But that feeling of yearning and heartache quickly turned into a feeling of nervousness and excitement. And he couldn’t explain it. He never once in his life thought he’d be looking forward to living in a house with 5 other guys again.

He couldn’t quite put his finger on it. The only conclusion he could come up with was that he must’ve been delusional. That and that the heart was… a strange thing.

——

“Are you ready baby?” Your mate chimed passed the doorway of your shared room from the hallway.

You rolled your eyes playfully, “As I’ll ever be Xiao Yang,” you replied, bracing yourself for what was to come.

He hurriedly made his way over to you, helping you maneuver your legs over the side of your bed and getting down to your level so you could use his arm to stabilize yourself.

It had been a little under a month since you had started staying with the pack and you’d say things were going okay. At least by the standard that was your ridiculously stupid life.

After the day you and Yangyang admitted aloud to being mates, you pretty much just started acting like a couple even though you two really hardly knew each other at the time. But it wasn’t as though you could help it. With the both of you feeling the imprinting pull as strongly as you did, everything just felt natural.

You leaning your head on his shoulder when you were tired or worn out was of second language. Him kissing you on the forehead before going to sleep beside you was almost as easy as breathing. You didn’t even think of it.

It was as though one day your brains had just understood the facts and unanimously agreed to be comfortable with each other. It was a Tuesday, the sky was blue, and you were destined to spend the rest of your life with a stranger who would always love and protect you no matter the cost.

And your left side of your body was beginning to function normally again thanks to Sicheng and Dai’s hard work. Well, as normally as it ever would from that point on anyways.

They had actually managed to fully debride and heal up all your open wounds, but internally, there wasn’t much anyone could do. Your tendons had healed wrong from the positions you had been put in while still seriously injured and your muscle grew around most of the non-silver plated metal in your body.

Which meant that, while you’d live, you’d just never walk right again. It was something you were still trying to come to terms with. You weren’t used to feeling so helpless.

You were a kick ass soldier with years of fighting under your belt. You grew up with all brothers who taught you to fight dirty on the playground and not to take shit from anyone for god’s sakes. You weren’t supposed to be this meek little thing that needed to rely on others for help when it came to something as simple as walking.

That’s why when your ever so doting mate asked if you were ready for him to get you up so you could be introduced to his pack brother that had finally came back into town, nothing but hesitation and uncertainty laced your voice. He had to help you even get as far as the kitchen by walking by your side the whole time or by carrying you.

But that didn’t mean you wanted him to see how heavily everything was affecting you.

He was still pretty emotionally and mentally scarred from having to hear you cry and scream for days on end when you first got to the house when Sicheng was fixing you up. It had caused him to become extremely overprotective of you. He was always glued to your side, almost as if he was afraid you’d vanish into thin air if he left you for as short as a second.

Most nights, he wouldn’t even get up to go to the bathroom until he was certain you were deep asleep and had already awoken a time or two so he’d always be there if you needed him. He was completely determined to prevent anymore injury or pain from happening to you.

So you did your best to put on as confident a face as you could muster and let his strong arms help navigate you out of the room and to the front door where everyone had gathered to greet the Macanese boy.

At least that’s where you thought he was from. With the mix of languages you didn’t 100% speak floating through the house and the mix of information they’d all thrown at you when you were still pretty out of it, you weren’t really certain you even knew the basics about the kid coming back.

You did think you managed to understand that he was from Macau and that he had a few sisters back home. But aside from that, you weren’t sure of what he looked like or even his real age.

“We’re hooooome!” Yueguang declared with a smile, pushing past her mate and running over to your place once she realized the pained look ok your face, “___, do you need help?” She asked rhetorically while she grabbed your other side and helped Yangyang balance you so you weren’t as noticeably uncomfortable having to shift your weight on your bad leg.

As if you weren’t even there, your mate answered her question for you in what you only assumed was Korean, “She’s alright jiejie. Just a little tired is all,” he beamed with a sickeningly sweet smile before he kissed the top of your head encouragingly.

Since you were doing your best to downplay how bad you really felt for his sake, you just gave a polite small bow of your head in return, signaling to the girl that your mate was right and that you were just tired.

But truthfully, in that moment you weren’t really sure WHAT you were feeling.

Seconds ago you had felt like you had been run over by a tank, but now you weren’t. Your heart was racing sure, but the prickly stinging feeling you had gotten so used to feeling when you walked around on your bad leg was now numbed. In fact, all the pain you had been experiencing was.

Instead you found yourself feeling almost… excited? Why in the living hell were you excited? You suddenly felt almost as though you had enough energy to run a marathon.

It wasn’t until your gaze locked with the euroasian looking boy who had nearly just dropped his suitcase on a very tired Dejun that you realized what the feeling was, or rather what had happened. It couldn’t be… could it?

Double imprinting happened, probably more than most people realized since love triangles in general were quite common, but to have it happen in such a small pack? That was nearly unheard of. It happened when two werewolves were from opposing packs more often than not, but it was nearly unheard of happening with two wolves from the same one.

It took a minute for those around the two of you to understand what was going on and why the both of you had stopped what you were doing so quickly, but it took one person almost painfully long to catch on: Yangyang.

And when he finally realized why he no longer felt your loving eyes looking at him as usual and had instead focused themselves on his newly arrived packmate, he couldn’t help but see red.

Uh oh.

Suddenly, you felt yourself being thrown into Yueguang, the both of you falling to the floor softly as one of the boys was quick enough to react and throw himself underneath you.

Yangyang had charged at the doe eyed boy full speed, sending them both to the ground in record time, as he straddled him and started throwing punches left and right. The boy under him started to fight back rather hastily, easily landing a jab to the pink haired boys gut and turning the tables so he was now the one on top.

Soon it was the two of them rolling around on the floor with red eyed and nails that were beginning to elongate. This seemed to signal whoever it was underneath you and Yue to get the two of you out of harms way before the boys fight got out of control and they lost any recognition of their surroundings.

You felt yourself and your new sister being elevated up off the hardwood and being carried into the nearest secured room for your safety. With everything happening far too high speed for you to react properly, all you could do was struggle against the much stronger wolf holding you to try and get to them to stop them, aggravating some of your old wounds in the process.

As tears had began to form in your eyes, you couldn’t see who rushed the older girl and you into someone’s room. But, between the thoughts of worry for your mates and your brain panicking at the thought that one or both of them could’ve been hurt, you thought you had picked up on some familiar scent encasing around you. Not that you cared at the moment.

Nothing else mattered to you but the two wolves battling possibly to the death in the previous room over you. So instead of dwelling on who your ‘savior’ was, you banged on the door of the bedroom you had been hoisted to with all your might.

You banged and thrashed and begged until you felt like both your hand and your throat were raw and bleeding. When you had finally exerted your energy, all you could do was slide your sobbing self down the door and cry into the palm of your good hand while Yue came and attempted to kindly comfort you with words of encouragement.

It was a while before all the growling and snarling stopped. And it was even longer before you stopped panicking visibly in front of your new sister. But none of it matter once Kun opened the jail of a bedroom door and told you the boys were both okay. Somewhat hurt, but okay.

As long as they were both still breathing, you were happy. Even if both surviving such a sudden fight meant you’d have to deal with possibly two mates from now on that weren’t gonna ever probably be too civil with each other. As long as they were both still standing, you’d call it a win.

But now you’d have to work on figuring out what to do about your current situation. Just because you were ecstatic that they were both alive didn’t mean that them staying that way wouldn’t bring it’s own set of problems.

Before you came to Korea you had never had a mate before. Now in the new country, you managed to have collected two in a span of only a few weeks and you weren’t sure if they’d both willingly accept that or if they’d try to make you choose between them.

When he came to tell you everything was okay, Kun also told you he had to send Yangyang to one of the packs they were friends with’s places for a night or two so he would cool down. It didn’t make sense to send the newly arrived boy away as your first mate was obviously the aggressor in the situation given that he was the main one feeling territorial over one of his brother’s imprinting on you.

You hated that the alpha had to do such a thing because even if it was only for a short while, you’d miss him. But you knew it was overall for the best as now it gave you a little time to at least gain an introduction to the newly returned member of the pack.

Once Yangyang was sent away after he was allowed to take you back to your shared room to give you a quick kiss goodbye, you had started to try to fix the disheveled mess you called your hair while sitting on your bed. Though with only one good hand it went without saying that you fastly began having trouble controlling the disaster atop your head and were getting fed up with dealing with it.

Just as you reached out to your nightstand drawer to pull out a sharp pair of scissors to rid yourself of the annoyance once and for all, you caught the sound of the softest knock ever at your door. If it weren’t for your supernatural hearing abilities, you probably wouldn’t have even heard it due to how lightly it had been initiated.

“Come in!” You shouted with a racing pulse, your heart already picking up on who was trying to enter before your eyes were able to.

The door opened just enough for a doe eyed boy with silky hair to peak his head cautiously.

You figured that he was probably still concerned about Yangyang showing up and trying to kill him again even though he no doubt already knew he was taking his time away already.

You felt bad for it. You wouldn’t have wanted the way things took place to have been the way you were familiarized with the boy. But what could you do? You couldn’t turn back time. Not could you have seen what was going to happen before it went down anyways even if you did.

So you tried to reassure him it was safe in your own way, “You can relax, my guard dog was being overly territorial so he got sent to puppy school to be retrained.”

Though the boy slipped the remainder of his body fully through the door way while you were chuckling gently, he didn’t necessarily seem to be as amused by your joke as you were.

“That’s not too funny you know.” Hendery informed you tight lipped, cementing himself in the center of your room while twittling with his fingers clasped in front of him.

You found the move odd because you both already knew you were mates after the events from earlier and had no need to be so formal yet endearing because he was trying to be respectful enough to give you your space in case you were still struggling to come to terms with it. Most boys your age probably wouldn’t have cared. Yeah, he definitely had sisters that trained him to behave a certain way growing up alright.

You tilted your head to the side with a small smirk, “It’s a little funny.”

After a few seconds of uncomfortable silence, thoughts began to race through your head of potentially having offended him with your previous joke. It wasn’t your intention to do such a thing. It was just how you were, you made twisted jokes in less than ideal situations to break the ice.

Though all tension seemed to dissipate as soon as he playfully rolled his big eyes at you, “But we’re not dogs.” He tilted his head down, though not before you caught the microscopic smile that had appeared on his face.

It was a shy genuine one. One that made your heart do flips in your chest and made you realize just how pretty he was and just how bright his grin could be. You had only taken a small glance at him in the moments that took place before the chaos hit. He was absolutely breathtaking. It was a little bit intimidating just how jawdroppingly handsome he was. But you tried to brush off your budding nervousness you were sure he would sense and continued on.

“Yes,” You reasoned carefully while acting as though you were deeply thinking, “But you’re also not NOT dogs so…” You finished with an unbalanced shrug, causing the boy in front of you to shake his head and bring his attention to look down at his feet once more.

You patted the bed beside you with your still working hand and wondered whether or not he’d always be so timid with you, “Come here.” You requested, causing him to plop down on the bed next to you very hesitantly.

Bringing his chiseled jaw to hold in your hand, you observed his injuries firsthand, an action that clearly startled him as it was the first time he had had any sort of contact with you.

He had a bruise already beginning to brown and heal on the left side of his cheek. His mouth was cracked at the skin on the corner of his bottom lip and he had an already scabbed over cut on his forehead just above his brow. Over all, he didn’t look half bad considering what happened. And he still definitely obtained his good features. Which was something that, though you noticed more of as an after thought, nonetheless brought a tint of pink to your cheeks when you noticed he was looking right at you in quite close proximity.

You were sure he noticed based on the small knowing grin that appeared on his face, but you hurried it away with a sly cough and continued, “Hmm. Well I’d say he definitely hit you with a right hook based on the split lip you got there. But I’d say other than a few bumps and bruises you’ll live.”

“Worse has happened.” Hendery all but whispered in response automatically.

Because it was true. He had been through hell for more reasons than one. Back in Macau his family life was considered happy, but the city itself was not. He grew up fighting and doing shady shit to survive. When he came to Korea with his pack, nothing changed.

The pack had known some of what he did back home, and they treated him and talked about him as though the person he had to be back home was who he wanted to be as a person. So that’s who he became.

He got in fights, ran with a bad crowd, slept around with just about anyone that was willing, partied far too hard for far too long, and did god knows what else simply because it was what was expected of him by everyone else around him. He just didn’t know if you’d also think the worst of him by default because of his past or not. It was one of the two major reasons why he was treading lightly with you. He wasn’t sure if anyone had mentioned any of his past to you yet and he figured if they hadn’t, he’d have to break the news to you gently.

“Well,” You added, “Considering he took you by surprise, you look pretty good. Guess it’s good to know my mate’s not a complete wuss.” You giggled at him, though you weren’t sure why he gave you almost a hurt look in his eye back.

Instead you tried to change the subject, “Now that that’s settled,” You sighed, grabbing the comb and brush you had been using only minutes before the Macanese boy walked in, “Mind helping me with my hair?”

The pained look in Hendery’s gaze changed to that of confusion at your request, “Your… hair…?”

He was expecting you to start asking him more about himself so you two could get to know each other, at bare minimum he was expecting you to at least ask him basic things like his full name and age. He figured you two had a lot to unpack between each other and had a lot to figure out about your next steps should be. But then you went and asked that out of no where? Were you joking?

“Yeah,” You answered in almost a duh tone, like he needed to hurry up and get with the program, “I’ve got a bum arm that I can’t use and doing like 99.99% of any known hairstyle takes two good ones. I’ve been having Yangyang help me, but he doesn’t really know how to do it and definitely doesn’t care about how well it’s done so long as it’s up somehow and out of the way. And since it’s a mess, i need it redone again.” You chuckled as your other mate’s body nearly froze before you.

He was always more than willing to help you with any and every thing you needed or wanted. That was part of what it meant to imprint on someone after all. But that didn’t mean he was always the best at it. And that definitely didn’t mean he understood it or why it was important. Especially your hair.

“What makes you think I’d do any better of a job than him?” He questioned, still a little too stunned to say it above a whisper.

You shrugged as you thought back to some of the things you’d heard about him from the pack. They had told you where he was visiting, that that was where he was from, and a bit about his family that they all acted as if they had known forever. They talked about his parents and sisters, plural, and they always called him the baby of his family. So you figured that meant he was the baby. And if being a baby in his family meant the same things that it did in yours, he must’ve done everything with them growing up.

That’s why you assumed they taught him a few things about what it meant to be more feminine, “You have a few older sisters right?”

Hendery nodded slowly, somewhat curious as to how you already knew that with your current meeting together having been the first you’ve ever had. But he didn’t point that out out loud. Right now, he was really just lucky you’d even see him after the ordeal from earlier. So he wanted to stay on your good side by staying quiet.

“Then I’m sure they’ve used you as their little helper before or that you’ve at least picked up on a thing or two about how important a girl’s hair is to them. So would you help me?” You asked again, hair supplies held out to him in your only working hand.

“Uh,” He glitched in thought for a second, wondering if he really should attempt it before he saw the pleading look in your eyes and felt a zap in his chest, “O-Okay. Sure.” He finalized, knowing from the moment the aching sensation from his heart reached his brain that he’d do anything you requested of him with little to no hesitation.

“Thanks,” You expressed in gratitude as you handed the strange looking piece of plastic that was supposed to tame your never wavering locks to him.

You could both hear and feel him start to chip away at the various knots and tangles that had formed in your hair over the past few weeks before you finally spoke to dull the silence, “It’s been pretty bad lately I know,” you earnestly choked out in slight embarrassment, “Personally, I blame my old stylist. Guess I can fire him now that I’ve got you too.” You laughed at your own dumb joke.

“Is this all your natural hair?” He quipped, lightly combing through the partially matted material stuck to your head.

He really was intending for it to be a serious question. But he already had assumed the answer to it once he noticed only a minimal amount of hair was coming out onto the brush he was given. He really just didn’t want to have to dwell on the thought of you having to choose between either him or Yangyang. Because he was pretty sure he already knew what your answer would be to that question too.

“Hmm? Oh yeah it is. I mean, minus the rats nest that was so lovingly left alone yeah.” You snorted, as if him asking you such a question was silly to begin with.

The doe eyed boy grew up with three sisters. He knew saying the wrong thing would set in a whole world of problems he didn’t need at the moment.

So he did his very best to choose his next set of words as carefully as possible, “But it’s… i mean it looks so… curly…?”

“Well that would be because it’s naturally curly.” You replied to the wolf tackling your disaster area you called hair in a duh tone, doing what you could to keep as straight of a face as you could.

“Sorry I’m just-” He tried to concentrate on keeping his hands steady so he wouldn’t upset you further by accidentally dropping a stray strand.

But truthfully he was terrified of making you sad or angry. Which was strange considering he didn’t usually care much about what other people though of what he said or did. Usually the only people’s feelings he went out of his way to be considerate of were his mom and sisters. Now here he was to have a normal nice conversation with you while quaking in his boots.

Must be the mating pull, “It’s just… not a hair type we see on this side of the world all that often.” Hendery gulped, quickly flinging one lock of your hair over the other in distraction as he braced for some sort of violent reaction from you.

“Relax dude, I’m not ticked at you for asking or anything like that. I know it’s not the norm here. I’m just fucking with you.” You couldn’t help but laugh as you saw his face change from the corner of your eye from frightened to shocked.

It was definitely gonna take him some serious getting used to you before he was ready for your type of humor. Then again, you both had all the time in the world to get to know each other now. And there was nothing stopping you both since you already knew what he was.

“Do you… do this often?” Hendery quietly uttered, barely above a whisper.

“Do i do what often?” You yawned, suddenly feeling both tired and exhausted from the day’s unforeseen emotional breakdowns while he twirled another piece of hair between his fingertips.

He cleared his throat cautiously, almost as if mentioning whatever it was he was going to say out loud would land him in hot water, “The whole ‘acting like everything’s okay’ thing when it’s clearly not?”

You let a tiny snicker into the air before you cooled yourself once more and simply put your still viable hand up with a pointed finger, “It’s called selective denial and yes i happen to be quite good at it actually. You should just get used to it already. It’ll make everything easier for you, trust me.”

“I don’t think anything about this is easy.” The boy behind you sighed with a huff, clearly already dreading the coming conversations and difficult situations ahead.

You didn’t revel in having to imagine the challenges you’d have to face either. But what you really didn’t want in the moment was to hear your newly found mate’s spirit sound so crushed at the thought of it all. It made your heart ache in a way you had only felt with Yangyang. It was strange how quickly everything worked when it came to werewolves.

“Maybe. Maybe not,” You shrugged, wincing in pain towards the end as you nearly had forgotten about your previous injuries as you slightly turned to talk to Kunhang, “But there’s not much anyone can do about it so it is what it is.”

“I mean… you could always still deny one of us.” Hendery muttered quietly.

Though you’d only known Yangyang for a short time by normal people’s standards, he knew how the mating pull worked. You were already hopelessly in love with the younger boy. Kunhang knew he stood practically no chance of being the one who came out on top. He knew he was all but a dead man walking.

Even so, he would never blame you for it. He would’ve thought he usually would’ve been at least bitter about it as he could literally die. But knowing you’d still be alive and happy with someone you actually loved was enough to cease any form of protest his inner voice may have had.

“No.” You confidently declared, rerailing his lost train of thought.

Did he hear you correctly? Had you just said no?

“W-What do you mean no?” The cameo cut chiseled boy stuttered out loud, much to your amusement.

You shrugged your one good shoulder and partially moved your bad one out of habit, “I mean just as I said: No.”

The boy was perplexed. Had you not heard his statement correctly? Were you just trying to avoid what you both knew was coming? Or were you trying to be difficult simply because that was your personality?

“But i don’t unders-” Hendery tried to get some sort of clarity, but you swiftly cut him off.

You snorted as you felt him twist a chunk of your hair to shape it the way he wanted it to go to distract himself, “Doesn’t matter. The answers still no.”

Why wouldn’t you just give him an appropriate answer? Why did you just keep saying no? Why the hell did you have to be so damn stubborn? And why the hell did that make him like you so much more?

He attempted once more to point something out to no avail. “But what if-”

“Never gonna happen soooo Nope.” You insisted with an accentuated popping sound on the P in the word nope.

At that point, You yourself began to want to pull your hair out at the Macanese boy’s need to keep the topic at hand alive.

“But Yangyang will just get-” Hendery began to point out, again getting no where with his words.

You sighed a deep sigh as you butted in once more, “Don’t care. It’s not changing my answer which is and always will be no.”

You wanted to be patient truly. But every time he spoke of it part of your heart felt like it was starting to rip open. And you had been ripped open enough for one life time.

“But wouldn’t it be easier if y-” He started again, this time with a more pleading tone and no doubt giant puppy dog eyes before you kicked his whines down.

“What part of no aren’t you getting here?!” You snapped, distraught with having to keep up with the charade of your shielded humor deflecting personality.

As the boy behind you went tight lipped and silent after a small whimper escaped his chest, you couldn’t help but feel bad. You knew he was probably just as worried about everything as you were saddened by it. He was the invader in most of the others you lived with’s eyes.

You could tell he already thought himself a goner because everyone expected you to pick Yangyang. And, while part of you knew picking one would be easier, you just… couldn’t bring yourself to do it. It felt like you’d end up burying your own heart along with whichever one you’d end up having to bury in the ground. How could someone choose between their soulmates?

So you deeply exhaled to cool down and spoke again in a softer tone, “I just… I just can’t be the cause of anymore suffering or death. I- I can’t.”

Your voice broke at the end of your sentence as your mind began to think back to all the death that seemed to just pile around you. Your brothers. Your friends. Your grandparents. Your dad. Your mom.

Life after life seemed to just fall down the hour glass you found yourself trapped in while you continued to survive and breathe. The people you could save but didn’t. The people that you couldn’t save but tried to anyways. All of their names were a gruesome reminder that you were the angel of death. And everyone hated you for it.

The family you still had alive, the comrades you so valiantly fought with, yourself. Even Your own brother hated you so much for being the reason your own mother was lost that he refused to even visit you even though you had been living in his house for weeks. He didn’t even care about you anymore.

There was more blood surrounding you than there was inside you. And you couldn’t stand the thought of being the driving force behind more people’s demises. You just couldn’t.

Looking down at your lap and fiddling with your lame hand using your working fingers, you forced yourself to finish your thought, “So there will be no denying of anyone on my end. If one of you wants to reject or deny, you’re more than welcome to. I wouldn’t blame either of you if you did. But i won’t be doing any such thing. I’ve had enough death to last a lifetime.”

“Okay.” Hendery whispered as he wordlessly continued his taming of your wild hair.

What you thought was an uncomfortable silence seemed to swarm around the room you found yourself stuck in everyday tensely and you didn’t like it. You didn’t like it one bit. So you did what you always did when you were uneasy: made dark jokes.

“Besides, even if I did want to deny one of you, it could end up killing me to and why would I want that?” You crackled out loud with a snort.

“Why would it kill you?”

You didn’t know for a 100% fact that it would, but if you were anything it was someone who always looked at the facts. And fact of the matter was, no one hadn’t a single clue what you were for certain.

“Because I’m not really all that human.” You informed him, naturally just assuming no one had explained your particularly uncommon situation to him in the .5 seconds he had actually been home before he was ambushed by your other mate.

The boy behind you cocked his head to the side in curiosity, “So you’re a wolf then? Like your brother and the rest of us?”

Dejun had explained to him that he couldn’t quite get a read on why you smelt so… strange. But he had never actually fully went into detail about just what he had meant by strange either as usually when they spoke of how aggravating you were, it would remind him of his frustrating situation with his own mate. Then he’d just go back to crying and rhetorically asking where he had gone wrong with her. One problem at a time.

“Not exactly. But I’m not human either.” You stated simply.

This was also true. You weren’t exactly a human. Your senses were a lot sharper. Your hearing was spectacular. Your vision was far beyond perfect. Your sense of smell was something only thought possible in movies. You were freakishly strong before your crash and could run for hours before you got even the slightest bit exhausted. You were unbelievably well coordinated and flexible too, things that made you the most wanted solider by units from all over in hand to hand combat alone.

But you couldn’t exactly call yourself a werewolf either. You couldn’t shift into a big furry animal like they could. Your teeth and nails didn’t elongate when you were angry and weren’t sharp enough to cut through solid rock. You didn’t feel any specific pull to anyone other than those you were related to before you met Yangyang and Hendery. Your eyes didn’t even change color the way theirs did and they weren’t naturally goldish either.

So most of the time you just gave a null answer as to what you were because fact was no one knew. And you refused to gamble in the game of life. Hence why you could only default in figuring that if you denied/neglected one of your mates you’d die same as they would. It was the safer bet.

Now it was the male’s turn to snort, “So what are you then?”

“I… don’t really know what I am.” You swallowed a bit harsher than you had intended before speaking again, “ I just know what I’m not.”

“And you know you’re not human…” He cautiously repeated back to you.

“Yes.”

“And that you’re also not a wolf…” Kunhang deadpanned.

You turned your head upward slightly and gave him the prettiest smile he had ever received from anybody with a giggle, “Exactly. Now you’re getting it.”

“I’m really not.” He grinned back automatically, as if your sudden little burst of pride at his very not real understanding of the situation was contagious.

The only thing he knew he understood after seeing you was why Kun and Sicheng had been so insufferable from an outside view for all the time he had known them.

All those times he’d walk into the kitchen to see Kun feeling Yue up as she squeeled with glee, all the moments where Sicheng randomly dropped his hand to reach for Daiyu’s as they sat sandwiched on the coach. Imprinting really hit them like they were being mowed down on a highway. And the way Kunhang wanted to just grab your cheeks and smother you with kisses. Now he knew just how hard it was to even be near one’s mate without wanting to be physically absorbed into one. His geges must’ve been saints for restraining their urges.

“Yeah,” You huffed in defeat with pursed lips, “Me either. But what can you do you know? I was always taught to live based on what life throws at you, not what you want in life. So whether I’m human or a wolf or none of the above, it doesn’t matter. I’ll still be the same old me as i was the day before.”

You rolled with the punches. That was something Hendery could admire. You were good with weird and strange. And you didn’t complain. You seemed to genuinely be fine with what was given to you cosmically. None of which could be said for himself.

“Nice philosophy i suppose,” he wet his cracked lips out of habit, “Who taught you to be that way?”

“My dad. He thought the same way about life.” You hummer in remembrance of your beloved father.

“And where is he?” Kunhang asked without thinking.

Which was a mistake on his part.

“Well…” You paused, trying to not dwell too much on the past trauma and wanting to keep things light, “Probably six feet under by now. Though I’m not sure the bombing’s probably disturbed the cemeteries by now too.”

You were brought to his pack half dead and barely breathing. Dejun had told him that the guy that brought you didn’t even want to bring you, but that he had no other choice. He should’ve realized that that meant you had no one else but your brother to turn to. He just never had to think about stuff like that before he met you. Now he knew.

“Oh w-wow,” The wolf stuttered in shock, “I didn’t- I mean no one-no one told me. I didn’t mean to-” He started to yammer on in disbelief once he realized the can of worms he had no doubt opened before you let it roll off you back.

You didn’t want him upset. And you definitely didn’t want to linger on the thought again. Last time the crying took nearly everything out of you and you ended up being so dehydrated that they thought you’d die. You had to chill out.

“Don’t worry about it. Like i said. I try not to think too hard into anything i can’t change. And his death isn’t something that can, so there’s no point in dwelling on it.”

Nervously, Hendery tried to change the topic to get your mind off what had apparently happened to your father as per your own wishes, “What about the rest of your family? Where are they? Besides Ten anyways.”

“Gone too. All my parents, grandparents, and siblings are dead. Except Chitta that is.”

Of course he just had to dig his grave with you even deeper by making the conversation even more heavy.

But he was nothing if not determined, so he once again attempted to take your mind off of everything, “Siblings? As in plural? I thought it would’ve only been Ten.”

“No,” You chuckled at the amount of panic coming from the boy, “He was definitely NOT my only sibling. I mean, he was my only one from my moms side sure. But my dad had a bunch of other kids.”

“So you had a bunch of brothers and sisters then?” He stayed on the path of siblingship for the time being as it seemed to be the safest one he could find.

“Brothers,” You corrected him, “But yeah. I had 12 total at one point. I was the only girl.”

If eyes could actually fall out of their sockets, you were positive your mate would’ve looked like a little cartoon mouse about to be eaten by an angry cat in horror.

“The Only girl??” He exaggerated, not even being able to fathom the thought of being the only boy in such a large family, “I mean- Sounds like it Must’ve been lonely.”

Sure he came from a relatively large family by Chinese standards and yeah okay he was technically the only boy in said family. But your family was reality TV show big in size. And you being such a tiny little girl surrounded by older brothers sounded very intimidating.

“Eh,” You scrunched your nose, “Not really. My brothers never let me feel left out. They just treated me like another one of the boys.”

Then you went on to explain some of the ways they kept you in the loop as kids. Like when they would all start horsing around and had you be the referee to call for interferences. Or how whenever they entered into a sport your dad would enter you in the exact same one as them, usually on the exact same team too.

You talked about how they had you working on their cars with them and about how they taught you to do sneaky pranks with them on each other. And how they’d even dress you pretty similarly to them when you were little so you’d be just another one of the guys and would stand out less amongst them.

“And that’s a good thing?” The boy towered over you to give you a questionable look of worry.

“Wasn’t it a good thing that your sisters treated you like one of the girls every now and then so you wouldn’t have felt discluded?” You countered, giving him a knowing smirk in return.

“That’s- a good question,” Kunhang thought in a moment of silence,“I… don’t know.” He finally came to his conclusion with a giggle.

“Well I always liked it.” You nodded proudly at your family life, “It made me feel like I always had the others to back me up.”

You never felt alone around them. In fact, you never really were alone back home. They were always around. With so many kids, you basically developed the buddy system subconsciously so you’d have a never ending supply of friends to play with. Just when one brother would go to school or had to join the war front, the next would take his place and continue where the last had left off with you. It was comforting. You’d never had that again.

“Plus, my dad used to say if he had one more girl to deal with he would’ve literally imploded so it was probably best that they raised me like my brothers.” You chuckled sadly, the memories of your once happy family going up into flames about as quickly as your plane had fallen from the sky.

“So where were you in the birth order?” Guanghang asked once he realized you were starting to go down the rabbit hole of despair.

“Lucky number 13.”

You were the last one. A sentence that was once figurative had now become completely literal. You were the last one standing. All because you were ‘lucky.’

But if you were truly so lucky, why did the thought of such a name now fill your heart with such anguish? Why did you now have to continue on without people you thought you’d get decades with? How was that lucky? How was that fair?

“That’s what everyone called me anyways. I never felt very lucky though.” You spoke honestly, once more looking at your lap.

“Why’s that?” Your mate quizzed.

“Well for starters,” You began, “I can’t even do my own hair anymore.”

“So you’re not gonna get any better?” Hendery questioned politely, trying not to upset you.

But he wasn’t hurting you. You knew he wasn’t meaning his words in a bad or negative way. He just wanted answers same as anyone else would. Hell, you wouldn’t have been surprised if he wasn’t even positively sure about what had happened to you in the first place. You still weren’t fully sure.

“No probably not. I mean, I can feel a little more in my hand every now and then,” You gripped your bad hand in your lap open and slightly closed a few times as you spoke, “Though it hurts like a bitch still. Daiyu and Sicheng seem to be in agreement that i might have some chance to gain more function in it if i try hard enough. But the leg’s completely fucked up for good.”

“How do they know that?” Kunhang meekly voiced.

“Well when I first got hurt, they had me laying with my legs bent at an angle on my side so that they could clean them off and stop some of the bleeding. But that, coupled with having to sit on an airplane for hours, looks like caused my ligaments to heal in different positions and at different lengths than they should be.” You gave him the rundown of what you had learned from Sicheng and his mate before they had gone on maternity/paternity leave to take care of their newborn son.

Though they used much bigger words than that and seemed to only confuse you even more. You eventually looked it up with the internet access you found yourself having a surplus’s of in your endless free time, “That’s something that can only be fixed by a surgeon and since we don’t know whether or not my fucked up gene pool has any wolf DNA…” You trailed, letting his imagination run with your silence.

“Oh man.” He commented sadly under his breath.

“Yeah,” You agreed quietly, “I can’t really even stand on it straight. I have to have people’s help to walk, well let’s be honest, limp, most places really. It’s super ugly.”

“I’m sorry.” Hendery apologized so earnestly to you that you almost broke your rule of showing no weakness to anyone and began tearing up.

But instead, you blinked back your tears and lied, “Eh don’t be. It’s fine.”

You weren’t fine. That he was sure of. He could just hear how broken your situation made you feel. He could also hear how hard you were trying to stay strong. He didn’t want you to feel like you had to do that around him. He wanted to be someone you could rely on, someone whose shoulder you could cry on.

“You don’t sound like it’s fine.” He remarked on your behavior.

Shrugging, you brushed him off, “Just another side effect of war i guess.”

“Wars aren’t any fun.” Kunhang continued your thought.

Which left you confused for a few reasons. The main one being that you weren’t really sure just how or if he knew anything about what it meant to actually be in a war.

You were always jealous of other countries and how they had it easy compared yo you and your people. You secretly hated that they sat safe in their homes and complained of their life and hardships completely cushioned as the people you knew wondered just how they’d feel their families that night or live to see the next day. You figured he was one of those people.

And because you didn’t want to hurt his feelings or make him feel less validated, you decided to bring it up in a kinder way than your brain had originally thought of, “But I heard china’s war wasn’t really that bad. I mean, i know it turned into a super strict military dictatorship. But i thought that the citizens didn’t really get hurt by bombings and stuff.”

“On the mainland you’d be right yeah. Not in Hong Kong and Macau though.” He explained.

His words confused you even more, “What do you mean?”

“We were already fighting the mainland for independence before the war broke out. But when the restrictions started getting worse, we fought back 10 times harder than we had before. And we were punished for it.” Hendery gulped deeply as he remembered his own experience.

Meanwhile, you were at a loss for words, “I- I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

How could you have been so wrong? How could you ever be so judgmental of someone you literally hardly even knew the name of? What was so wrong with you that made you such a cold hearted bitch?

“It’s alright,” He sadly smiles, “We got out just before they leveled the place, so my family made it.”

When you shifted to look back at him, his eyes stared back at you with a vacancy behind them, “But that didn’t mean we weren’t practically buried alive in the remains of whatever building we were in when the decided to send the bombshell down sometimes.”

Flashes of terror hit the forefront of his mind of his sisters and mom. They were screaming and crying and praying to a god they didn’t even believe in that they’d make it through the night over and over again. And all Kunhang could do was help his dad hold them securely and silently plead too.

You on the other hand had guilt hit you in the gut like a truck at ever questioning him to begin with. You were about to apologize to him once more before a realization hit you, “But wait,” you thought back to his previous words speaking about the war in China, “You only said Macau and Hong Kong. Why not Taiwan? Hasn’t China been trying to take them too for a long time?” You asked, remembering Yangyang’s words of his own homeland.

“Y-Yeah,” Guanghang’s voice broke in a stutter before he cleared his throat to gain some composure, “They have. But just before the war broke out,” He cleared his throat once more, “They got a new president. He was corrupt and the mainland bought him and Taiwan’s government to stay out of trouble in exchange for boosting the economy and the change in their own pockets.”

“But why- why would they do that? Surely the Taiwanese people would’ve fought back their own government’s decision no?” You almost rhetorically pushed out, partially out of anger, partially out of horror.

You listened as the male behind you brokenly let out a dry hum, “A lot of them wanted to,” Hendery confirmed with a small nod, “But it eventually came down to either having food in their stomachs or fighting for their own moral beliefs. And knowing how cruel the government had become, I can’t say i blame them for just choosing not to starve to death.”

“Yangyang’s never brought it up…” You stated, shocked your other mate had never told you the extent to which his own people had been forced into submission.

You couldn’t help but wonder if he didn’t break it up because the thought pained him or if he just genuinely didn’t feel the need to bring it up. Another part of you wondered if he was always far too worried and concerned for you and your jagged background that he never thought it okay to mention his own.

Hendery let a smile of gratefulness form on his face, “Yeah. He didn’t have to live through it back home. Because of his dad’s work, they lived in Germany and London through most of it. We found him after we escaped the war when he was studying here.”

Unbeknown to you, your mate started falling face first into his own pit of despair, “When we first got here you know, we didn’t even have a place to stay. When we hopped off the ship we stowed away on, we made our way to the mountains and stayed in a cave. It wasn’t until Yue enrolled in school that we met Yangyang and his family.”

Your heart hurt for him. You didn’t just hear your mate’s pain, you felt it. Right next to your own heart beating. And it was soul crushing.

Why hadn’t your other mate told you about how he met his pack? Why did the pack’s story have to be so gut wrenching?

“Once his family realized our situation. They bought us this place and had us stay here. Yangyang being meant to be the pup in our pack was just an added thing,” He emphasized the family’s kindness and generosity, “They would’ve let us stay here without him since they could afford to give him his own place. We owe a lot to them.” The Macanese boy spoke his last sentence just above a whisper.

The more his mind wandered, the more horrible He felt. Yangyang and his family had been nothing but kind to him and the others. And he payed them all back by imprinting on you.

He knew he’d never be able to find it within himself to regret doing it because one, he couldn’t help it and two, you were still his mate.

But that didn’t mean he didn’t feel awful about pretty much stabbing the Liu family in the back with his animalistic instinct. If there was anyway he thought he could change your mind about denying one of them, he would have you deny him.

Your newer mate knew just how devastated the pup would be at your decision to not deny either of them. He knew how much the toll of having to share you would take on his mental health.

Kunhang would do anything to prevent the anger and hurt he knew the youngest of your little love triangle was going through. But even though he’d known you less than a day, he knew you’d never listen to him. So he was stuck with a gut wrenching guilt that would more than likely never go away.

And of course you easily figured out the mental battle Hendery was having with himself once his voice trailed away and went quiet.

You being you, you did what you always did, “You staying in a cave? Nah I dont know i don’t buy it?”

Could you have found some other way to comfort him? Sure. But you weren’t that great with feelings and quite frankly, you thought that he wasn’t either. So keeping things playful was your best bet at getting him back to a healthy state of mind.

Snapping himself out of his thoughts, he began to question what you meant as he was only partially hearing what you had said, “H-Huh?”

“I’m just saying, with your good looks, if you told me you didn’t even know what the word camping meant, I’d probably believe you. So i just don’t buy that you’d stay in a cave.” You shrugged, earning a small scoff from your mate.

“I’ve been camping before. AND stayed in a cave before brat.” He rolled his eyes, a smile creeping up on his mouth quicker than he’d care to admit.

You fake gasped, “And you made it through? You weren’t too traumatized from like, breaking a nail, to keep in functioning afterwards?”

“You’re such an ass,” You could practically hear the eye roll coming from behind you, “Do you really think I’m that much of a pretty boy damn”

Giggling moderately hard at that point, you decided to drop the teasing slightly and deliver him some truth, “I’m only fucking with you. Mostly anyways. I mean, you are pretty much the human embodiment of Prince Charming and all. But I’m sure you’re not that much of an uptight jerk. Just figured I’d get your mind off of wherever it was it had sank to ‘s all.”

While he was a little hurt somewhere inside that you’d already tried to peg him as some dickwad who only cared about his looks, he had to admit you definitely made his mind flip a switch to do a complete 180 and gave him a better thought process.

You took his mind off of what was plaguing him. And he was sure you were kidding based on the cute smile laced with hidden intentions stationed on your face.

He snickered, “Yeah well if I’m Prince Charming, doesn’t that make you some sort of princess?”

His offensive teasing started to work and now it was your turn to roll your eyes, “Yeah well, you look like a story book character. I don’t.”

Though you didn’t fit the conventional standards of beauty he was used to: fair skin, straight hair, dark eyes with a rounded small face; he could easily call you the most gorgeous girl he had ever seen.

“Mmm don’t think so. I’d say you’re a princess, princess.” Kunhang smirked at you from above as he finished tying off some of his work on your hair.

“Pfff. Whatever you say Prince Charming.” You joked back at him with a laugh.

“Why Prince Charming?” Hendery made a disgusted pained face at the remention of the new nickname you had given him.

You gave a slight hesitation at his question,“What? You don’t like fairy tales?“

You had really only meant it as a joke or some sort of had acted reference due to the fact that he was helping you with your problem without having known you even the littlest bit and had a face only god himself would’ve been allowed to create. But seeing his face retract at the idea worried you.

“Not really.” In fact, he kind of hated them, “Even if i did, i wouldn’t be the hero of it all like a prince,” he stated honestly before he whispered under his breath, “In fact, if you ask anyone else here they’d probably say I’m more of the villain type.”

Everyone thought he was just some sort of man whore. It wasn’t that he even liked sex or anything more than the average guy.

He just partied a little too hard sometimes because of who he associated with. It was like a requirement to them that he did.

And yeah of course that generally meant ending the night in somebody’s bed doing what every college kid did at some point.

But he wasn’t originally like that. He didn’t originally plan on being some sort of fuck boy everyone tried to sleep with or hang around to do bad things with. He just… became that way.

He didn’t want to admit that just yet to you. He didn’t want you to judge him or get mad at him. He couldn’t change his past, even if now he would’ve given anything to if it meant starting over for you.

“If you say so,” you shrugged, “But you wanna know something?”

Kunhang tilted his head aside, “What?”

“I’ve always preferred the villains anyways. They’re the ones that make the story interesting.” You winked, giggling as you watched his face drop.

His eyes widened in surprise, “You speak Cantonese?!?!?”

You laughed at him once more, “Yeah i do. No one told you?”

“No, no one told me!” He rubbed the bridge of his nose in annoyance, wondering why at least his fellow cantonese speaking packmate didn’t give him a heads up, “I figured you’d speak at least basic Mandarin because you’re half Chinese like Ten. But why the hell do you speak Cantonese?”

It was a longer story than you wanted to get into. So you have him the shortened version, “A childhood friend i grew up with. He and his family were refugees from Guangdong during the early parts of the war. I had his family teach me Cantonese growing up so they wouldn’t feel so alone.”

Truth be told you mainly didn’t want to tell him because the thought of even talking about your best friend hurt. You hadn’t heard from him since he left you in Korea to be taken care of by your brother and his pack. You didn’t know if he was safe or even alive.

“So is there anything else i should know about you that they neglected to tell me?”

You figured he’d just learn everything he needed to know on the job as your mate much like Yangyang was.

But you couldn’t think of anything he urgently needed to know about you, “I dont know. I don’t think so. I’m not very interesting, you know, aside from the bum leg and the fucked up arm that is.”

“I doubt that.” Hendery scoffed.

“It’s true.” Well it was either true or you just honestly didn’t care enough in the moment to think too deeply into your life.

You were bringing a lot of emotional baggage with you from your home and you knew it would take you forever to unpack.

His mouth created a raspberrying sound, “No it’s not.”

“Yes it is.” Sort of anyways.

“Nope. You’re a liar. Fake news.” Hendery didn’t buy it.

How could you possibly think you weren’t interesting? You practically fell into their laps after nearly dying from some freak accident. Who could ever call that uninteresting?

“Seriously. No one finds the stuff i do or how i am intriguing. I’m pretty boring.”

The Macanese boy snickered, “Boring? You could literally tell me why you think the sky’s green not blue and we both know I’d listen like you’d just given me the winning million dollar lottery numbers. That’s not something a boring person could do.”

While him saying he’d listen to you no matter what made your heart jump, you knew it wasn’t just because he found everything you said to be naturally interesting. It was the pull.

“That’s only because you imprinted on me. I could throw up on you right now but you’d look at me like you had just fallen in love with me and you know it.” You defiantly added.

“Alright then have it your way you stubborn little baby you.” The nickname he gave you made your stomach burst into butterflies, “But just because you think you’re lame doesn’t mean i don’t want to know more about you.”

“What is is you’d like to know?”

“I don’t know,” He thought genuinely about what it was he’d want to know about you before he settled on some very basic questions he figured he should probably get out of the way, “Do you only speak Chinese and Cantonese then? Or are you secretly a dog whisperer too?”

“Considering I somehow managed to get myself two mates in the span of like a month, I probably am a dog whisperer!” You laughed while Hendery rolled eyes at your sad joke, “I speak Mandarin, Cantonese, Russian, Thai, and my native language and it’s sign language.”

“Sign language? Why sign language?” He asked curiously.

You shrugged, “You gotta be able to talk to your fellow soldiers without talking much when you’re trying to be all sneaky sneakying.”

“Sneaky sneakying? What are you actually a baby? Or are you just plain dumb?” He laughed at you lovingly, finally coming out from behind you and sitting in front of you, pulling one of your hands into his in the process on instinct.

He wasn’t even sure you liked PDA. And usually he wouldn’t have been one for it. But something about your cute presence made him just want to hold you in his arms forever. But since he wasn’t just that familiar with you yet, his mind seemed to settle for holding your hand.

“No,” You blushed at the suddenly contact, “I’d say between the two of us you’d be the dumb one here.”

“Why do you say that? You don’t know me. For all you know i could be Albert Einstein princess.” He attempted to hold a less than enthusiastic face, though his thin lined mouth quickly turned up into a cheeky grin.

At that point, it felt like you face was on fire from the nickname usage. You wouldn’t have ever pegged him as someone who would’ve used them. Now here he was throwing them out into the open freely, shocking you.

Little did you know, your original hypothesis was correct. Or at least, it normally would’ve been. But something about being around you made him want to be… romantic and cheesy.

He wasn’t too sure why the urge was so strong so early on. But he wasn’t gonna complain if you weren’t. And you definitely had no plans of doing such a thing.

“Truuuue,” You agreed “But to counter, I’m pretty sure a smart person wouldn’t imprint on their packmate’s new mate.” You countered.

“Yeah in hindsight i walked into that one.” He looked down at your hands as he tried to stifle a laugh.

You snorted, “Literally!” You nearly shouted, thinking about how he walked into the living room for the first time after getting back home and getting attacked after Yangyang realized he imprinted on you.

After that, you both sat there in a comfortable silence as the older boy began to play with the fingers of your good hand. Neither of you were completely positive of what you future would hold. You weren’t sure how Yangyang would react or if the rest of the pack would even respect your decision.

But you knew at least for the time being, you wanted to savor the moment you found yourself in with your new mate for at long as you could. Because for all you knew, it could’ve been the last one you’d ever get with him.

(Updated 8/13/22)

#wayv hendery #hendery #nct hendery #huang guanheng #wong kunhang #nct wayv #wayv imagines #wayv scenarios #wayv layouts #wayv icons #wayv fanfic #wayv moodboard #wayv x reader #wayv smut #werewolves

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kaffeeraum-bei-zarah · 1 year

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𝕷𝖔𝖚𝖎𝖘 𝖃𝕴

...I finished reading "Quentin Durward" by Walter Scott a couple of months ago and still under the impression; the book definitely had me on the edge of my seat! I can't believe, it has been in my library for years! And when I took the book off the shelf, I didn't know how much I would fall in love with the main character, now my most favourite historical figure -- King of France, Louis XI (3 July 1423 – 30 August 1483), called "Louis the Prudent" (Ludwig XI der Klüge, in German).

⬆ a 19th century portrait is from brianrxm.com .....right from the very first pages I felt an ever-increasing sympathy to the king, not even knowing yet, by the author's intention, who that person really was...

"A cunning diplomat and a bold warrior" -encyclopedia britannica, - the brilliant monarche, Louis XI, was a person of outstanding intellect and an unsurpassed master of intrigue what earned him another nickname -- "The Universal Spider." His plans and decisions were always thoroughly thought through. And whatever he did served a higher purpose that he finally achieved at the end of his life -- building up the fractured and turbulent provinces into powerful, unified France. He never gave up, converting even painful failures into triumphant success.

Though he always preferred consilium whenever there was a chance to avoid bloodshed, he was fearlessly brave when he had to personally take part in armed conflicts.

Louis XI did appreciate those who were loyal to him. Also, he never left his enemies unpunished. And, even so, it was never for the sheer enjoyment at the sight of one's torments, as it was for the majority of his mighty contemporaries, but as acts of fair retribution only.

⬆ image from meisterdrucke.at .....Louis XI did many other significant things as well, like opening manufactures, supporting crafts, developing book-printing, and much more.

I also love his sarcastic style of humour as it appears in "Quentin Durward."😎

During my so called on-line investigations, I found out that many classic sources were actually unfair to Louis XI traditionally describing him as mainly ruthless and insidious person, in fact magnifying and even thinking up certain negative aspects that ostensibly might be part of his nature, as well as downplaying his indisputable strengths. Yet it was not least exactly those tough traits of his character that saved him his life many times and led him to his impressive achievements.

With all this, everything smart and worthy of admiration that I come to know about Louis XI either overweighs, or justifies or explains in some way those deeds of his that can't be considered as kind ones.

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

“𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘬 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦, 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘺.” — Louis XI of France

⬆ Ludwig XI. (1423-83) König von Frankreich von Nicolas II de Larmessin

...I have also come across a web site meisterdrucke.at where you can choose from their vast collection of portraits of prominent people of the centuries gone by, and then you have an option to choose a frame and a canvas material for the portrait to be printed on... isn't that cool?! ...It's been a long time since I wanted to have a portrait of an inspiring historical figure on our home library wall, and now I have no doubts as to who it has to be!

......Actually, I have another favourite character in this book (surprisingly, not the main hero, Quentin Durward, in spite of his high (and sometimes even overhigh moral qualities)) which is a gypsy man, Hairaddin... who knew too much and participated directly in too many ventures that it was inevitable for him but to come to a bad end... I was nearly crying for him when reading about his last moments (yeah, I'm a cry baby when it comes to sad books or movies - and that's why I usually avoid such stuff, - and it doesn't matter if the story happened 600 years ago:) But thanks to Walter Scott, he softened the passage about his unhappy ending just by leaving it to the readers' imagination...

Of course, this humble post is only to convey just a little bit of my feelings for my king and share some initial information that I'd dug up so far. Since I'm eager to know about Louis XI as much as posible, I've searched for some great books about him and ended up with this unfortunately small list 📖:

The Spider King by Lawrence Schoonover

Louis XI. The Universal Spider by Paul Murray Kendall

Chant Royal. The Life of Louis XI, King of France by James Cleugh

The Memoirs by Philip de Commines

There're many more books about Louis XI, but they are all in french...🤔

📺 I was also surprised to find out that there's a film - Louis XI: Shattered Power (2011), with Jacques Perrin in the lead role, - in my nearest must-watch list!

📺 There is another film I'd like to watch because of Louis XI who was portrayed by Harry Davenport - "The Hunchback of Notre Dame", 1939

So... this exciting and thought-provoking book definitely goes to my most favs! It will certainly keep you intrigued, and you'll experience a variety of feelings while being entertained with wise and witty dialogues between the characters throughout the whole story...⚜️

#random thoughts & ♡s #book corner

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roc-writes · 3 years

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Teppei as Your Familiar!

A/N: A’ight so a good amount of you enjoyed the Traveler’s Familiar brainrot where I renounced canon and did my own thing. Or so I think since somehow it still circulates with a couple likes every week. As a treat, lemme just sprinkle a bit more here since I LOVE familiar AUs and all that jazz. This was written only because Teppei is holding me at large denying me Venti fanfiction rights until I write this. Here are some headcanons that are jingling around in my noggin, and the type of familiar our favorite squad leader is! Genre: Headcanons Warnings: none, no beta we die like rex lapis, first headcanons I ever made please be gentle Link to the first fic I wrote about Familiar Teppei here {x}

After the initial shock of seeing your once-gone partner in the resistance, you both made the trip up the Sangonomiya shrine in hopes Kokomi could help shed some light on the situation at hand.

Neither of you had seen the divine priestess so flustered than in that moment, she could only the words “Orobashi” and “Disciple” as if in reverence. Kokomi hypothesized that Teppei’s new form was in the likeness of the deceased Watatsumi no Omikami because he was given this second opportunity at life by the spirit of said god. The priestess then asked if she would be so bold as to employ both your services to prepare offerings to the protector of Watatsumi before returning to your adventures.

While Teppei shares a likeness to the sea serpent Orobashi, he resembles another creature of the sea more; The Oarfish. Two large whiskers and a head of soft, flowing hair that resemble the flowing fins of a fish are the two features that stand out most from a distance. You and Teppei are still trying to figure out if his hair would do better loose or braided, but he loves it when you thread your fingers through his hair in an attempt to style it.

Teppei’s ears are frilled at the tips, though they are easily hidden by his head of hair. From a distance the scales littered across his upper body in patches reflect the light and give off the illusion of flowing water. And while he does have a tail longer than he is tall, he was able to learn very quickly how to hide it behind magic to make himself fit in just a little easier with the masses. he loves to wrap it around your body when he wants attention or walks the streets of Inazuma with you. He just loves to always hold you in some way at all times, he missed you so much!

It took Teppei a few days for things to sink in, and for him to at last try and sleep. He was too frightened to close his eyes, lest the peace he longed for so dearly slip right through his fingers. It was only when he lay beside your sleeping and peaceful figure that everything clicked. This was real, both of you were alive and the Vision Hunt Decree was abolished for good. In that moment he silently offered up his life to keep you safe, always. And in his hands he suddenly felt a weight after his silent declaration, a vision to call his own. Never will he fall victim again, never will you face the world broken and alone. He would follow you to the ends of the world.

Your familiar is extremely touchy, he will hold you in some way whenever possible, in public or not, if you consent to it. If you don’t, that’s okay too! He respects your preferences and would only ask if he can at least walk by your side to keep you close.

On the other hand, because your comfort and consent are the most important things to him, he has a tendency to get incredibly protective of you if someone approaches and you either do not know them or show uncomfortable body language in any way. And if such advances continue without your approval, Teppei WILL hiss. It sounds like the warning hiss of crocodilians and if that does send any potential enemy running, he will find other means to do so.

He has a distaste for closed spaces where he cannot stretch to his full length, and this extends to your waverider. He will dive expertly into the sea and follow you like that, his sea of scales glimmering underneath the waves as he trails beside you. If you ask him to take you from island to island though, he will be SO happy to oblige. His abilities and vision allows you to breathe for a few minutes underwater and he will excitedly show you every magnificent coral reef he knows of. When you swim with your familiar it feels like you’re being whisked away by a siren song in the comfort of the kelp beds. A world just for you and your beloved familiar.

#And just as I finish this there's another like #I'm glad y'all enjoyed Teppei nonsense!#Genshin Impact #Genshin Headcanons #Teppei #Can be platonic or romantic #Teppei x reader #Please Teppei let me write Venti now I miss my bard boi #Roc writes

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henry-and-the-seven-lords · 3 years

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How He Loves - Eventually pt. 2

Barbatos x MC | Song Fic

How He Loves Series | Brothers Masterlist | Dateables Masterlist

Inspiration ~ Haven't Had Enough by Marianas Trench

Description: Barbatos watches MC fall I love over and over again only to be heartbroken each time. His finally jump leads him to the most painful heartbreak, or does it?

Just a preface, I don't fully understand how Barbatos' power work, I know it has to do with time, and I know when he sent MC to another timeline in the game there were two MC's in one place. So just to clarify how I am using it, I am thinking that he moves his consciousness from one Barbatos timeline to another when he goes through his time doors, not that more than one of him exist at one time. This is just my preference to one make it easier for me to understand, and two to make it simpler to write. I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: angst, very fluffy ending

Without missing a beat MC gently held his hand in place and tried their dish. In that moment, Barbatos saw it. His sliver of hope. A single timeline where MC was his.

He saw them cooking this exact recipe, but instead of ending in tasting the soup, it ended in a sweet kiss... Now that he knew he had a chance to be with MC, he just had to figure out which timeline was the right one.

Barbatos thought back to that single hopeful scene. It felt like a distant memory to him now. Immediately after Mammon and MC left the castle that day, Barbatos had rushed to the door that could send him back to the beginning. To his first meeting with MC, to see if he could change it all.

During the first attempt he was chivalrous, going as far as to kiss MC's hand on first meeting. This only seemed to lead to MC falling in love with the prideful Lucifer who flaunted them in Barbatos face every second he had.

He went back again, taking a more calm and friendly approach, only to have MC fall into the arms of Simeon, who eventually took them back to the Celestial Realm leaving Barbatos alone without even getting a proper goodbye.

Attempt after attmept, Barbatos would introduce himself differently thinking the start of their relationship was the error, only to have MC fall in love with someone else in the end.

Hundreds of jumps through time later, Barbatos began to loose himself. Leading to his previous dedication to Diavolo faltering because he was consumed only with winning MC's heart.

His current attempt was one of the most painful. Barbatos had given up on introducing himself long ago when the hundredth time still led MC into someone else's arms. Instead, he opted for silence and a small smile. Time passed and Barbatos watched as MC got closer and closer to Lord Diavolo making his heart ache.

The human was currently running around the castle giggling with the demon prince in a game of hide and seek. While he was stuck in the kitchen forced to hear their laughter echo through the ornate hallways.

Even though Barbatos had a long list of tasks to get done, he could not focus even if he wanted to. Each little chuckle that resounded through the hallways from MC in the distance made his mind drift off. He dreamed about the day when they would finally run into his arms, giving him the sweet pecks he had seen everyone else recieve.

As his mind wandered, Barbatos began to notice the vividness of MC's laughter. It no longer sounded like a distant dream, but something closer to reality. He was finally brought out of his thoughts when he was tackled to the ground.

Even though the blow was fast, it was not too much for the demon to handle. He began to stir under the weight and finally opened his eyes when he heard a voice.

"Oh no! Barbatos! Are you okay?"

With one quick glance Barbatos discovered his culprit to be none other than MC. They were currently hovering over him with concern written all over their face as he lay on his back.

"I'm fine, MC. There is no need to worry about me. Demons are quite resilient and can take a tackle or two." He smiled as he said this. His heart warming at their concern.

Barbatos then pushed himself up so he would be sitting. MC on the other hand, back peddled and sat on his legs. Leaving the demon stuck in this position under them. Their face was red as they looked at the pristine tile floors he had just cleaned.

"I still feel bad about tackling you... is there anything I could do to at least make up for it?" MC fiddled with their jacket refusing to look at Barbatos as they talked. He found this endearing. How could this human be so cute without realizing it? It wounded him.

Barbatos pulled from his thoughts, began to ponder their request until and idea popped into his head. His one sliver of hope, "You could help me make dinner tonight if you wish. We will be having Newt Fire Soup and I could use another set of hands in the kitchen."

"Alright!" With that MC jumped off of him and reached out their hand to help Barbatos up. A smile spread across his face as he grabbed their hand and they helped him stand up.

The pair got to work, and MC was just as good at following instructions in this timeline as they were in the first one. It almost felt like deja vu to Barbatos as MC seemed to follow his commands the exact same way as they did previously.

Of course, Barbatos was just as distracted by MC the second time as the first time, but what he didn't notice before was MC staring at him as well.

Whenever he would turn his back he could feel their eyes boring holes into him, and when he would turn around their face would go red and they would quickly look away. These actions seemed odd to the butler. Wasn't this MC in love with Lord Diavolo?

Eventually, Barbatos got bold and wanted to see if his suspicions were correct, "MC you need to stir it clockwise, not counter-clockwise."

That was a lie, it really didn't matter how the soup was stirred. He just wanted to test his theory. After speaking he walked up behind MC putting his hand on top of their's on the spoon and slowly spinning it in the opposite direction.

MC's face began to flush as they looked up at him, "O-oh, um... thank you." Their words sounded like little squeaks, Barbatos was about to pull away, worried that he had frightened them, until he looked down to see them biting back a grin. Maybe this was finally his chance.

Eventually the soup was finished and just as Barbatos had before, he grabbed a spoon holding it out for MC to taste test.

"Barbatos this is the best thing I have ever tasted!"

"I am glad you enjoyed it, but remember you made it as well so you also have yourself to thank." After these compliments, Barbatos waited, but there seemed to be no kiss in sight.

He sighed sullen and turned his back to them as he began to clean up the kitchen. Even though this time had started rough, he thought that it was turning around MC seemed interested in him, but maybe that was all just an illusion.

"Barbatos."

MC's voice cut through his thoughts like a knife.

"Yes?" He turned focusing all his attention on a now fidgeting MC.

"W-well, I just wanted to say something..."

He looked at the human confused, "What would you like to say?" MC seemed to be stalling as they thought of the right words to say.

"Well..." MC took a deep breath before quickly speaking, "I really like you Barbatos, and I hope you aren't mad at me for tackling you earlier today, but I really just did that because Lord Diavolo told me it was the only way I could get your attention."

Barbatos stood there stunned, staring at them as they continued, "I just... ugh... when we first met you seemed so... I don't know... intimidating? I wanted to get to know you better, but I didn't want you to think I was some nuisance."

A nuisance? Barbatos was flabbergasted, is that really how he had made them feel.

"I told Diavolo and he started inviting me over so I could build up the courage to talk to you." MC took a deep breath before continuing, "I really like you Barbatos. I see how considerate you are to everyone else and I just want to do the same for you- Wait are you okay?"

MC runs over to him gently grabbing his face. Barbatos was so overwhelmed by the human's words that he didn't notice tears welling up and trailing down his face like a waterfall.

"You don't know how long I have waited to hear that." A bright smile spread across his face as he speaks. The pair sit for a moment in silence as Barbatos catches his breath with their forehead pressed together. Eventually they both lean in slowly until their lips finally collide in a long soft kiss.

MC pulls away breathless and says, "Barbatos, you might just be the best thing I have ever tasted." Their combined laughter swell and full the kitchen reverberating back to their own ears.

"Better than the soup?" Barbatos replies while chuckling as he pulls MC in by their waist

"Definitely." MC leans in again after answering capturing his lips in a passionate kiss.

Extra:

Diavolo: "Oh there you are MC! I see you found a prize for being the best at hiding! Remember, no funny business in the kitchen."

MC: *Embarassed* "LORD DIAVOLO!"

Barbatos: "Ever unchanging, my Lord."

Tag List:

@bunna-does-stuff @obeythebutler

#obey me #obey me imagines #obeyme #obey me barbatos imagine #obey me barb #obey me barbatos #barbatos imagine #barbatos x reader #barbatos #om! barbatos #barbatos x mc #barbatos x you #fluff #angst #how he loves series #how he loves

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laurasimonsdaughter · 3 years

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The Counterfeit Marquise

A literary fairy tale published in 1697, presumably by Charles Perrault and François-Timoléon De Choisy (who spent a considerable amount of his life in drag, just like the protagonists of this story).

Translated by Ranjit Bolt, featured in Warner’s Wonder tales: six stories of enchantment (1996).

Cw: gender disphoria.

The Marquis de Banneville had been married barely six months to a beautiful and highly intelligent young heiress when he was killed in battle at Saint-Denis. His widow was profoundly affected. They had still been very much in love and no domestic quarrels had disturbed their happiness. She did not allow herself an excess of grief. With none of the usual lamentations, she withdrew to one of her country houses to weep at her leisure, without constraint or ostentation. But no sooner had she arrived than it was pointed out to her, on the basis of irrefutable evidence, that she was carrying a child. At first she rejoiced at the prospect of seeing a little replica of the man she had loved so much. She was careful to preserve her husband’s precious remains, and took every possible step to keep his memory alive. Her pregnancy was very easy, but as her time drew near she was tormented by a host of anxieties. She pictured a soldier’s gruesome death in its full horror. She imagined the same fate for the child she was expecting and, unable to reconcile herself to such a distressing idea, prayed a thousand times to heaven to send her a daughter who, by virtue of her sex, would be spared so cruel a fate. She did more: she made up her mind that, if nature did not answer her wishes, she would correct her. She took all the necessary precautions and made the midwife promise to announce to the world the birth of a girl, even if it was a boy.

Thanks to these measures the business was effected smoothly. Money settles everything. The marquise was absolute mistress in her château and word soon spread that she had given birth to a girl, though the child was actually a boy. It was taken to the curé who, in good faith, christened it Marianne. The wet nurse was also won over. She brought little Marianne up and subsequently became her governess. She was taught everything a girl of noble birth should know: dancing; music; the harpsichord. She grasped everything with such precocity her mother had no choice but to have her taught languages, history, even modern philosophy. There was no danger of so many subjects becoming confused in a mind where everything was arranged with such remarkable orderliness. And what was extraordinary, not to say delightful, was that so fine a mind should be found in the body of an angel. At twelve her figure was already formed. True, she had been a little constricted from infancy with an iron corset, to widen her hips and lift her bosom. But this had been a complete success and (though I shall not describe her until her first journey to Paris) she was already a very beautiful girl. She lived in blissful ignorance, quite unaware that she was not a girl. She was known in the province as la belle Marianne. All the minor gentry roundabout came to pay court to her, believing she was a rich heiress. She listened to them all and answered their gallantries with great wit and frankness. My heart, she said to her mother one day, isn’t made for provincials. If I receive them kindly it’s because I want to please people.

Be careful, my child, said the marquise: you’re talking like a coquette.

Ah, maman, she answered, let them come. Let them love me as much as they like. Why should you worry as long as I don’t love them?

The marquise was delighted to hear this, and gave her complete licence with these young men who, in any case, never strayed beyond the bounds of decorum. She knew the truth and so feared no consequences. La belle Marianne would study till noon and spend the rest of the day at her toilette.

After devoting the whole morning to my mind, she would say gaily, It’s only right to give the afternoon to my eyes, my mouth, all this little body of mine.

Indeed, she did not begin dressing till four. Her suitors would usually have gathered by then, and would take pleasure in watching her toilette. Her chambermaids would do her hair, but she would always add some new embellishment herself. Her blonde hair tumbled over her shoulders in great curls. The fire in her eyes and the freshness of her complexion were quite dazzling, and all this beauty was animated and enhanced by the thousand charming remarks that poured continually from the prettiest mouth in the world. All the young men around her adored her, nor did she miss any opportunity to increase that adoration. She would herself, with exquisite grace, put pendants in her ears – either of pearls, rubies or diamonds – all of which suited her to perfection. She wore beauty spots, preferably so tiny that one could barely see them with the naked eye and, if her complexion had not been so delicate and fine, could not have seen them at all. When putting them on she made a great show of consulting now one suitor, now another, as to which would suit her best. Her mother was overjoyed and kept congratulating herself on her ingenuity. He is twelve years old, she would say to herself under her breath. Soon I should have had to think about sending him to the Military Academy, and in two years he would have followed his poor father. Whereupon, transported with affection, she would go and kiss her darling daughter, and would let her indulge in all the coquetries that she would have condemned in anyone else’s child.

This is how matters stood when the Marquise de Banneville was obliged to go to Paris to deal with a lawsuit that one of her neighbours had taken out against her. Naturally she took her daughter with her, and soon realised that a pretty young girl can be useful when it comes to making petitions. The first person she went to see was her old friend the Comtesse d’Alettef,11 to ask for her advice and her protection for her daughter. The comtesse was struck by Marianne’s beauty and so enjoyed kissing her that she did so several times. She took on herself the task of chaperoning her, and looked after her when her mother was busy with her suit, promising to keep her amused. Marianne could not have fallen into better hands. The comtesse was born to enjoy life. She had managed to separate herself from an inconvenient husband. Not that he lacked qualities (he loved pleasure as much as she did) but since they could not agree in their choice of pleasures, they had the good sense not to get in one another’s way and each followed their own inclinations. The comtesse, though not young any more, was beautiful. But the desire for lovers had given way to the desire for money, and gambling was now her chief passion. She took Marianne everywhere, and everywhere she was received with delight.

Meanwhile, the Marquise de Banneville slept easily. She was well aware of the comtesse’s somewhat dubious reputation, and would never have trusted her with a real daughter. But quite apart from the fact that Marianne had been brought up with a strong sense of virtue, the marquise wanted a little amusement and so left her to her own devices, merely telling her that she was entering a scene very different from that of the provinces; that she would encounter passionate, devoted lovers at every turn; that she must not believe them too readily; that if she felt herself giving way she was to come and tell her everything; and that in future she would look on her as a friend rather than a daughter, and give her such advice as she herself might take.

Marianne, whom people were starting to call the little marquise, promised her mother that she would disclose all her feelings to her and, relying on past experience, believed herself a match for the gallantry of the French court. This was a bold undertaking thirty years ago. Magnificent dresses were made for her; all the newest fashions tried on her. The comtesse, who presided over all this, saw to it that her hair was dressed by Mlle de Canillac. She had only some child’s earrings and a few jewels; her mother gave her all hers, which were of poor workmanship, and managed at relatively little expense to have two pairs of diamond pendants made for her ears, and five or six crisping pins for her hair. These were all the ornaments she needed. The comtesse would send her carriage for her immediately after dinner and take her to the theatre, the opera, or the gaming houses. She was universally admired. Wives and daughters never tired of caressing her, and the loveliest of them heard her beauty praised without a hint of jealousy. A certain hidden charm, which they felt but did not understand, attracted them to her and forced them to pay homage where homage was due. Everyone succumbed to her spell and her wit, which was even more irresistible than her beauty, won her more certain and lasting conquests. The first thing that captivated them was the dazzling whiteness of her complexion. The bloom in her cheeks, forever appearing and reappearing, never ceased to amaze them. Her eyes were blue and as lively as one could wish; they flashed from beneath two heavy lids that made their glances more tender and languishing. Her face was oval-shaped and her scarlet lips, which protruded slightly, would break – even when she spoke with the utmost seriousness – into a dozen delightful creases, and into a dozen even more delightful when she laughed. This exterior – so charming in itself – was enhanced by all that a good education can add to an excellent nature. There was a radiance, a modesty in the little marquise’s countenance that inspired respect. She had a sense of occasion: she always wore a cap when she went to church, never a beauty spot – avoiding the ostentation cultivated by most women. At Mass, she would say, One prays to God; at balls one dances; and one must do both with total commitment.

She had been leading a most agreeable life for three months when Carnival came round. All the princes and officers had returned from camp, and everywhere entertainments were being held again. Everyone was giving parties and there was a great ball at the Palais Royal. The comtesse, who was too old to show her face on such occasions, decided to go masked and took the little marquise with her. She was dressed as a shepherdess in an extremely simple but becoming costume. Her hair, which hung down to her waist, was tied up in great curls with pink ribbons – no pearls, no diamonds, only a beautiful cap. She had dressed herself, but even so all eyes were fixed on her. That night her beauty was triumphant.

The handsome Prince Sionad was there, dressed as a woman – a rival to the fair sex who, in the opinion of connoisseurs, took first prize for beauty. On arriving at the ball the comtesse decided to go and sit behind the lovely Sionad. Chère princesse, she said as she drew near and introduced the little marquise, here is a young shepherdess you should find worth looking at. Marianne approached respectfully and wanted to kiss the hem of the prince’s dress (or should I say the princess’s) but he lifted her up, embraced her tenderly and cried delightedly: What a lovely girl! What fine features! What a smile! What delicacy! And if I’m not mistaken, she is as clever as she is beautiful.

The little marquise had responded only with a bashful smile when a young prince came up and claimed her for a dance. At first all eyes were fixed on him, owing to his rank. But when people saw her answering his questions without awkwardness or embarrassment; saw what a feel she had for the music; how gracefully she moved; her little jumps in time; her smiles, subtle without being malicious and the fresh glow that vigorous exercise brought to her face, total silence, as at a concert, descended on the hall. The violinists found to their delight that they could hear themselves play, and everyone seemed intent on watching and wondering at her. The dance ended with applause, little of it for the prince, popular though he was.

The acclaim that the little marquise had received at the Palais Royal ball greatly increased the comtesse’s affection and concern for her. She could no longer do without her and she offered her rooms in her house, so that she could enjoy her company at her leisure. But on no account would her mother agree to this. The little marquise was almost fourteen and, if the secret of her birth was to be kept, it was vital that no one should be on intimate terms with her except her governess, who got her up and saw her into bed. She was still quite ignorant of her situation and, though she had many admirers, felt nothing for them. She cared for nothing and no one but herself and her appearance. People spoke to her of nothing else. She drank down this delicious praise in long draughts and thought herself the most beautiful person in the world; the more so since her mirror swore to her every day that the praise was justified.

One day she was at the theatre, in the first tier, when she noticed a beautiful young man in the next box. He wore a scarlet doublet embroidered with gold and silver, but what fascinated her were his dazzling diamond earrings and three or four beauty spots. She watched him intently and found his countenance so sweet and amiable that she could not contain herself, and said to the comtesse: Madame, look at that young man! Isn’t he handsome! Indeed, said the comtesse, but he is too conscious of his looks, and that is not becoming in a man. He might as well dress as a girl.

The performance went on and they said nothing more, but the little marquise often turned her head, no longer able to concentrate on the play, which was The Feign’d Alcibiades. Some days later she was at the theatre again in the third tier. The same young man, who drew such attention to himself with his extraordinary adornments, was in the second tier. He watched the little marquise at his leisure, as fascinated by her as she had been by him on the previous occasion, but less restrained. He kept turning his back on the actors, unable to take his eyes off her and she, for her part, responded in a manner less than consistent with the dictates of modesty. She felt in this exchange of looks something she had never experienced before: a certain joy at once subtle and profound, which passes from the eyes to the heart and constitutes the only real happiness in life. At last the play ended and, while they waited for the afterpiece, the beautiful young man left his box and went to ask the little marquise’s name. The porters, who saw her often, were happy to oblige him; they even told him where she lived. He now saw that she was of noble birth and decided, if possible, to make her acquaintance, even if he went no further. He resolved (love being ingenious) to enter her box by accident.

Ah, madame, he cried, I beg your pardon: I thought this was my box. The Marquise de Banneville loved intrigue and made the most of this one. Monsieur, she said to him with great frankness, we are indeed fortunate in your mistake: a man as handsome as you is welcome anywhere.

She hoped in this way to detain him so that she could look at him at her leisure; examine him and his adornments; please her daughter (whose feelings she had already detected) and, in a word, have some harmless amusement. He hesitated before deciding to remain in the box without taking a seat at the front. They asked him a hundred questions, to which he replied very wittily. His manner and tone of voice had an undeniable charm. The little marquise asked him why he wore pendants in his ears. He replied that he always had: his ears had been pierced when he was a child. As for the rest, they must excuse these little embellishments, normally only suitable for the fair sex, on the grounds of youth.

Everything suits you, monsieur, said the little marquise with a blush. You can wear beauty spots and bracelets as far as we’re concerned. You wouldn’t be the first. These days young men are always doing themselves up like girls. The conversation never flagged. When the afterpiece was over he conducted the ladies to their coach and had his follow it as far as the marquise’s house where, not daring to enter, he sent a page to present his compliments.

During the days that followed they saw him everywhere: in church; in the park; at the opera and the theatre. He was always unassuming, always respectful. He would bow low to the little marquise, not daring to approach or speak to her. He seemed to have but one object, and wasted no time in attaining it. Finally, after three weeks, the Marquise de Banneville’s brother (who was a state councillor) called and suggested that she receive a visitor – his good friend and neighbour, the Marquis de Bercour. He assured her that he was an excellent man and brought him round immediately after lunch. The marquis was the handsomest man in the world; his hair was black and arranged in thick, natural-looking curls. It was cut in line with the ears so that his diamond earrings could be seen. On this particular day he had attached to each of these a pearl. He also wore two or three beauty spots (no more) to emphasise his fine complexion.

Ah, brother, said the marquise, is this the Marquis de Bercour? Yes, madame, replied the marquis, and he cannot live any longer without seeing the loveliest girl in the world.

As he said this he turned towards the little marquise, who was beside herself with joy. They sat and talked, exchanging news, discussing amusements and new books. The little marquise was a versatile conversationalist, and they were soon at ease with one another. The old councillor was the first to leave, the marquis the last, having remained as long as he felt he could.

After this he never missed an opportunity of paying court to the girl he loved, and always made sure that everything was perfect. When the good weather came and they went out walking to Vincennes or in the Bois, they would find a magnificent collation, which seemed to have been brought there by magic, at a place specially chosen in the shade of some trees. One day there would be violins; the next oboes. The marquis had apparently given no instructions, yet it was obvious that he had arranged everything. Nevertheless, it took several days to guess who had given the little marquise a magnificent present. One morning a carrier brought a chest to her house which he said was from the Comtesse Alettef. She opened it eagerly and was delighted to find in it gloves, scents, pomades, perfumed oils, gold boxes, little toilet cases, more than a dozen snuff boxes in different styles, and countless other treasures. The little marquise wanted to thank the comtesse, who had no idea what she was talking about. She found out in the end, but reproached herself more than once for not having guessed at once.

These little attentions advanced the marquis’s cause considerably. The little marquise greatly appreciated them. Madame, she said to her mother with admirable honesty, I no longer know where I am. Once I wanted to be beautiful in everyone’s eyes; now the only person I want to find me beautiful is the marquis. I used to love balls, plays, receptions, places where there was a lot of noise. Now I’m tired of all that. My only pleasure in life is to be alone and think about the man I love. He’s coming soon, I whisper to myself. Perhaps he’ll tell me he loves me. Yes, madame, he hasn’t said that yet; hasn’t spoken those wonderful words: I love you, though his eyes and his actions have told me so a hundred times. Then, my child, replied the marquise, I’m very sorry for you. You were happy before you saw the marquis. You enjoyed everyone’s company; everyone loved you and you loved only yourself, your own person, your beauty. You were wholly consumed with the desire to please, and please you did. Why change such a delightful life? Take my advice, my dear child: let your sole concern be to profit from the advantages nature has given you. Be beautiful: you have experienced that joy; is there any other to touch it? To draw everyone’s gaze; to win all hearts; to delight people wherever one goes; to hear oneself praised continually, and not by flatterers; to be loved by all and love only oneself: that, my child, is the height of happiness, and you can enjoy it for a long time. You are a queen, don’t make yourself a slave: you must resist at the outset a passion that is carrying you away in spite of yourself. Now you command, but soon you will obey. Men are fickle: the marquis loves you today – tomorrow he will love someone else.

Stop loving me! said the little marquise. Love someone else! And she burst into tears.

Her mother, who loved her dearly, tried to console her and succeeded by telling her that the marquis was coming. There was a lot at stake and this incipient passion caused her considerable alarm. Where will it lead? she asked herself. To what bizarre conclusion. If the marquis declares himself – if he plucks up courage and asks for certain favours – she will refuse him nothing. But then, she reflected, the little marquise has been well trained; she is sensible; at most she will grant such trifling favours as will leave them in ignorance – an ignorance essential to their happiness.

They were talking like this when someone came to tell them that the marquis had sent them a dozen partridges, and that he was at the door, not daring to enter as he had just returned from hunting.

Send him in! cried the little marquise. We want to see him in his hunting clothes. He entered a moment later, all apologies for powder marks, sun burn and a dishevelled wig. No, no, said the little marquise. I assure you, we like you better dressed informally like this than in all your finery. If that is so, madame, he replied, next time you will see me dressed as a stoker.

He remained standing, as though about to leave. They made him sit and the marquise, kind soul, told them to sit together while she went to her study to write. The chambermaids knew what was what and withdrew to the dressing-room, leaving the lovers alone together. They were silent for a while. The little marquise, still flustered after her talk with her mother, scarcely dared raise her eyes, and the marquis, even more embarrassed, looked at her and sighed. There was something tender in this silence. The looks they exchanged, the sighs they could not contain, were for them a form of language – a language lovers often use – and their mutual embarrassment seemed to them a sign of love. The little marquise was the first to awake from this reverie.

You’re dreaming, marquis, she said. What of? Hunting? Ah, beautiful marquise, said the marquis, how lucky hunters are! They are not in love. What do you mean? she rejoined. Is being in love really so terrible? Madame, he replied, it is the greatest happiness in life. But unrequited love is the greatest misfortune. I am in love and it is not requited. I am in love with the most beautiful girl in the world. Venus herself would not dare put herself before her. I love her and she does not love me. She has no feelings. She sees me, she listens to me, and she remains cruelly silent. She even turns her eyes away from mine. How heartless! How can I doubt my fate? As he spoke these last words, the marquis knelt down before the little marquise and kissed her hands – nor did she object. Her eyes were lowered and let fall great tears.

Beautiful marquise, he said, you’re crying. You’re crying and I know the reason for your tears. My love is irksome to you. Ah, marquis, she answered with a heavy sigh, one can cry for joy as well as pain. I’ve never been so happy. She said no more and, stretching out her arms to her beloved marquis, granted him the favours she would have denied all the kings of the earth. Caresses were all the protestations of love they needed. The marquis found in the little marquise’s lips a compliance that her eyes had hidden from him, and this conversation would have lasted longer if the marquise had not emerged from her study. She found them laughing and crying at the same time, and wondered whether such tears had ever needed drying.

The marquis immediately rose to leave, but the marquise said to him pleasantly: Monsieur, won’t you stay and dine on the partridges you brought? He needed little persuading. What he desired more than anything else in the world was to be on familiar terms in this house. He stayed, even though he was dressed in hunting clothes, and had the exquisite pleasure of seeing the girl he loved eat. It is one of life’s chief delights. To watch at close quarters a pink mouth that, as it opens, reveals gums of coral and teeth of alabaster; that opens and closes with the rapidity that accompanies all the actions of youth; to see a beautiful face animated by an often repeated pleasure, and to be experiencing the same pleasure at the same time – this is a privilege love grants to few.

After that happy day the marquis made sure he dined there every night. It was a regular affair and the little marquise’s suitors, who had had no cause to be jealous of one another, took it as settled. She had made her choice and they all admitted that beauty and vanity, however powerful, are no defence against love. The Comte d’****, one of her most ardent admirers, had a keen sense that his passion was being made light of. He was handsome, well built, brave, a soldier: he could not allow the little marquise to give herself to the Marquis de Bercour, whom he considered vastly inferior in every respect to himself. He decided to pick a quarrel with him and so disgrace him, thinking him too effeminate to dare cross swords with him. However, to his great surprise, at the first word he uttered when they met at the Porte des Tuileries, the marquis drew his sword and thrust at him with gusto. After a hard-fought duel they were parted by mutual friends.

This adventure pleased the little marquise. It gave her lover a war-like air, though she trembled for him nevertheless. She saw clearly that her beauty and her preference for him would constantly be exposing him to such encounters, and she said to him one day: Marquis, we must put an end to jealousy once and for all; we must silence gossip. We love one another and always will. We must bind ourselves to one another with ties that only death can break.

Ah, beautiful marquise, he said, what are you thinking of? Does our happiness bore you? Marriage, as a rule, puts an end to pleasure. Let us remain as we are. For my part, I am content with your favours and will never ask you for anything more. But I am not content, said the little marquise. I can see clearly that there is something missing in our happiness, and perhaps we will find it when you belong to me entirely, and I to you. It would not be right, replied the marquis, for you to throw in your lot with a younger son who has spent the bulk of his fortune and whom you still know only by appearances, which are often deceptive.

But that’s just what I love about it, she interrupted. I’m so happy that I have enough money for us both, and to have the chance of showing you that I love you and you alone.

They had reached this point when the Marquise de Banneville interrupted them. She had been closeted with her agents, and thought she would refresh herself with some lively young company, but she found them in a deeply serious mood. The marquis had been greatly put out by the little marquise’s proposal. Ostensibly it was very much to his advantage, but he had secret objections to it, which he considered insurmountable. The little marquise, for her part, was a little annoyed at having taken such a bold step in vain, but she soon recovered, deciding that the marquis had refused out of respect for her – or that he wished to prove the depth of his feelings for her. This thought made her decide to speak to her mother about it, and she did so the following day.

No one was ever more astonished than the Marquise de Banneville when her daughter spoke to her of marriage. She was sixteen and no longer a child. Her eyes had not been opened to her situation, and her mother hoped they never would be. She was careful not to agree to the match, but to reveal the truth would have been a painful solution both for her daughter and the marquis. She resolved to do so only as a last resort. Meanwhile she would prevent, or at least postpone, the marriage. The marquis was in agreement with her on this, but the little marquise – passionate creature that she was – begged, entreated, wept, used every means to persuade her mother. She never doubted her lover, since he did not dare oppose her with the same firmness. Finally she pushed her mother to the point where she said these words to her: My dear child, you leave me no choice: against my better judgement I must reveal to you something that I would have given my life to conceal from you. I loved your poor father and when I lost him so tragically, in dread of your meeting the same fate, I prayed with all my heart for a daughter. I was not so fortunate: I gave birth to a son and I have brought him up as a daughter. His sweetness, his inclinations, his beauty, all assisted my plan. I have a son and the whole world believes I have a daughter. Ah, madame! cried the little marquise, is it possible that I …? Yes, my child, said her mother embracing her, you are a boy. I can see how painful this news must be for you. Habit has given you a different nature. You are used to a life very different from the one you might have led. I wanted you to be happy and would never have revealed the sad truth to you if your obstinacy over the marquis had not forced me to. You see now what you were about to do? How, but for me, you would have exposed yourself to public ridicule?

The little marquise did not answer. Instead she merely wept and in vain her mother said to her: But my child, go on living as you were. Be the beautiful little marquise still – loved, adored by all who see her. Love your beautiful marquis if you like, but do not think of marrying him. Alas! cried the little marquise through her tears, he has asked for nothing more. He flies into a rage when I mention marriage. Ah! Could it be that he knows my secret? If I thought that, dear mother, I would go and hide myself in the furthest corner of the earth. Could he know it? In floods of tears now, she added: Alas, poor little marquise, what will you do? Will you dare show your face again and act the beauty? But what have you said? What have you done? What name can one give the favours you have granted the marquis? Blush! Blush, unhappy girl! Ah, nature you are blind: why did you not warn me of my duty? Alas! I acted in good faith, but now I see the truth and I must behave quite differently in future. I must not think about the man I love – I must do what is right.

She was uttering these words with determination when it was announced that the marquis was at the door of the antechamber. He entered with a happy air and was amazed to see both mother and daughter with lowered eyes and in tears. The mother did not wait for him to speak but rose and went to her room. He took courage and said: What’s the matter, beautiful marquise? If something is distressing you, won’t you share it with your friends? What? You won’t even look at me! Am I the cause of this weeping? Am I to blame without knowing it?

The little marquise dissolved in tears. No! No! she cried. No! That could never be, and if it were so I would not feel as I do. Nature is wise and there is a reason for everything she does.

The marquis had no idea what all this meant. He was asking for an explanation when the marquise, who had recovered a little, left her room and came to her daughter’s aid. Look at her, she said to the marquis. As you see, she is quite beside herself. I am to blame. I tried to stop her but she would have her fortune told, and they said she would never marry the man she loved. That has upset her, Monsieur le Marquis, and you know why.

For my part, madame, he replied, I am not at all upset. Let her remain always as she is. I ask only to see her. I shall be more than happy if she will consider me her best friend.

With this the conversation ended. Emotions had been stirred, and would take time to settle. But they settled so completely that after eight days there was no sign of any upheaval. The marquis’s presence, his charm, his caresses, obliterated from the little marquise’s mind everything her mother had told her. She no longer believed any of it, or rather did not wish to believe. Pleasure triumphed over reflection. She lived as she had done before with her lover and felt her passion increase with such violence that thoughts of a lasting union returned to torment her. Yes, she said to herself, he cannot go back on his word now. He will never desert me. She had resolved to speak of it again, when her mother fell ill. Her illness was so grave that after three days all hope of a cure was abandoned. She made her will and sent for her brother, the councillor, whom she appointed the little marquise’s guardian. He was her uncle and her heir, since all the property came from the mother. She confided to him the truth about her daughter’s birth, begging him to take it seriously and to let her lead a life of innocent pleasure that would harm no one and which, since it precluded her marrying, would guarantee his children a rich inheritance.

The good councillor was delighted at this news and saw his sister die without shedding a tear. The income of thirty thousand francs that she left the little marquise seemed certain to pass to his children, and he had only to encourage his niece’s infatuation for the marquis. He did so with great success, telling her that he would be like a father to her and had no wish to be her guardian except in name.

This sympathetic behaviour consoled the little marquise somewhat – and she was certainly distraught – but the sight of her beloved marquis consoled her even more. She saw that she was absolute mistress of her fate, and her sole aim was to share it with the man she loved. Six months of official mourning passed, after which pleasures of all kinds once again filled her life. She went often to balls, the theatre, the opera, and always in the same company. The marquis never left her side and all her other suitors, seeing that it was a settled affair, had withdrawn. They lived happily and would perhaps have thought of nothing else, if malicious tongues could have left them in peace. Everywhere, people were saying that, while the little marquise was beautiful, since her mother’s death she had lost all sense of decorum: she was seen everywhere with the marquis; he was practically living in her house; he dined there every day and never left before midnight. Her best friends found grounds for censure in this: they sent her anonymous letters and warned her uncle, who spoke to her about it. Finally, things went so far that the little marquise went back to her first idea and decided to marry the marquis. She put this to him forcefully; he resisted likewise, only agreeing on condition that the marriage would be a purely public affair, and that they would live together like brother and sister. This, he said, was how they must always love one another. The little marquise readily agreed. She often remembered what her mother had told her. She spoke of it to her uncle, who began by outlining all the pitfalls of marriage and ended by giving his consent. He saw that, by this means, the income of thirty thousand francs was sure to pass to his family. There was no danger of his niece having children by the Marquis de Bercour whereas, if she did not marry him, her notion that she was a girl might change with time and with her beauty, which was sure to fade. So a wedding day was fixed on, bridal clothes made and the ceremony held at the good uncle’s house. (As guardian he undertook to give the wedding feast.)

The little marquise had never looked as beautiful as she did that day. She wore a dress of black velours completely covered in gems, pink ribbons in her hair and diamond pendants in her ears. The Comtesse d’Alettef, who would always love her, went with her to the church, where the marquis was waiting. He wore a black velours cloak decked with gold braid, his hair was in curls, his face powdered, there were diamond pendants in his ears and beauty spots on his face. In short, he was adorned in such a way that his best friends could not excuse such vanity. The couple were united for ever and everyone showered them with blessings. The banquet was magnificent, the king’s music and the violons were there. At last the hour came and relatives and friends put the couple together in a nuptial bed and embraced them, the men laughing, a few good old aunts weeping.

It was then that the little marquise was astonished to find how cold and insensitive her lover was. He stayed at one end of the bed, sighing and weeping. She approached him tentatively. He did not seem to notice her. Finally, no longer able to endure so painful a state of affairs, she said: What have I done to you, marquis? Don’t you love me any more? Answer me or I shall die, and it will be your fault.

Alas, madame, said the marquis, didn’t I tell you? We were living together happily – you loved me – and now you will hate me. I have deceived you. Come here and see.

So saying he took her hand and placed it on the most beautiful bosom in the world. You see, he said, dissolving in tears, you see I am useless to you: I am a woman like you.

Who could describe here the little marquise’s surprise and delight? At this moment she had no doubt that she was a boy and, throwing herself into the arms of her beloved marquis, she gave him the same surprise, the same delight. They soon made their peace, wondered at their fate – a fate that had brought matters on to such a happy conclusion – and exchanged a thousand vows of undying love.

As for me, said the little marquise, I am too used to being a girl, and I want to remain one all my life. How could I bring myself to wear a man’s hat?

And I, said the marquis, have used a sword more than once without disgracing myself. I’ll tell you about my adventures some day. Let’s continue as we are, then. Beautiful marquise, enjoy all the pleasures of your sex, and I shall enjoy all the freedom of mine.

The day after the wedding they received the usual compliments and, eight days later, left for the provinces, where they still live in one of their châteaux. The uncle should visit them there: he would find, to his surprise, that a beautiful child has resulted from their marriage – one to put paid to his hopes of a rich inheritance.

#Charles Perrault #François-Timoléon De Choisy #genderqueer folktales #trans representation #laura retells #except not really it's more like laura copy pastes this time

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bakugohoex · 3 years

Note

sweet Akashi going to your wealthy husband's funeral, and spending a bit too much time fawning over you, ghosting his eyes over your baby bump and wondering how such an old fuck could even produce sperm instead of just puffing dust after a viagra. You aren't crying, but for show you had your makeup done as if you had been, and Akashi can tell, gently taking the bottom of the veil attached to your pillbox hat and leaning forward, brushing his lips on your cheek while he whispers to you. "Sweetheart, we both know you could do so much better."

"Oh? Better? As in living, or as in..."

"As in me." He smiles, fixing your pearl and diamond beaded veil before he touches the chiffon of your dress, ghosting the floor and covering your red bottom shoes. "I'm sure you're dying to sit." He hummed, then hooked his arm with yours, not really giving you a choice while he walks you to another room and helps you settle onto the fainting couch, then lays you back before he sits at your feet and carefully removes your shoes, grinning a bit at the groan and sigh you let out.

"Thank you."

"Of course." He stares, and it would make you uncomfortable if he weren't so pretty, and you would move away from the warm hands that slowly ghost up your legs, leaving trails of fire on your skin, but you stayed still, almost desperate after spending the last year devoted to a man with a bank account as big as his... well.... the number was as high as his blood pressure, but that was fine. You never wanted it to last. "So," Akashi purrs, pushing the skirt of your dress up until it passed the bend of your knee, and gravity took it the rest of the way down until it laid bunched in the bend of your hip, "I'm assuming you're craving a new touch... I know I would be if I was in your shoes."

"Well, thanks to you, neither of us are in my shoes."

"Would you have preferred I kept them on you?"

"Fuck you, never. I'm 8 months pregnant, and heels? My feet are killing me." He thinks its adorable, watching as you whine and meekly reach for your toes before giving up, and rest your hands on your stomach, rubbing it just a bit. ".....at least the kid is well behaved... she doesn't kick too much, and I bet she'll be cute."

"I hope she looks like you."

"Oh, do you?"

"I do."

"And why would that be?"

"So in a year or so when my ring is on your finger we can lie and say she's mine. They won't be able to tell the difference if she's as lovely as her mother." He smiles, and chuckles at the shock on your face.

"That's bold."

"You like bold."

"I do like bold."

"Is it too bold or not bold enough to fuck you in the room beside where your ex husband's funeral is being held?"

You wait, trying to see some kind of punchline, but he just stares with those intense eyes that bore into you, and all you find it seriousness.

"I never liked that he had you." Akashi shifts so he's on his hands and knees, crawling over you until he's directly above you, and your round tummy brushes against the buttons of his starch white dress shirt. You wonder for a moment when he abandoned the deep red jacket and vest of his 3-piece, but don't get long to ponder until he's unpinning your little hat from your hair, and setting it on a nearby table. "I wanted you, but I suppose it was a first come, first serve kind of thing, and he despised it when other men even glanced your way..."

"I like possessive and jealous."

"I like getting what I want."

"So-"

"So tell me you're mine and let's get this pitiful little game over with." Akashi blances on his knees and one hand, the other moving to undo his belt. He raises an eyebrow, and a nod is all he needs before your breath is taken away along with any residing worries.

Red was never a traditional color to wear to a funeral, nor that Akashi cared, nore did he care that it was disrespectful to the dead to fuck the widow in the next room, with his fingers stuffed in your mouth to keep you quiet and his teeth in your shoulder to muffle himself. He doesn't wonder how much of a pain it will be to clean your cum out of the cushions, and instead focuses on drawing it out of you, moving his fingers just to hear your hushed cries declaring yourself as his while he lifts his head and pulls the neckline of your dress down to suck at your tits. You were struggling, trying to figure out if you were just needy, or if Akashi was just that good, drawing out desperate little sobs with each push and pull of his hips, and the feeling of his mouth in your achy chest was even better, making your legs shake and a new round of honey drip around his cock. You're away too long, and you can vaguely hear people beyond the door looking for you when Akashi pulls out and hurriedly uses nearby tissues to clean you both. He takes extra care to fix your clothes, and pin your hat back into place before he places a teasing kiss to your lips.

"Awe, my pretty darling... I just know that you'll be a splendid little wife for me."

"Mm... people will wonder..." You're exhausted, wanting nothing more than to sleep despite needing to read a shitty speech someone else wrote for you.

"Say it's the woe of a new widow trying to save herself the sadness, or," he leans down, and gives you gentle kisses that lull your eyes shut, "I can just get rid of anyone who dares say an ill word against my pretty wife and darling daughter."

"Mhm... your darling daughter." You mutter, letting sleep take you, at least for a short bit, and Akashi smiles.

He always gets what he wants.

BABES please ya gonna make me become a whole ass simp for akashi like firstly fuck the old dead husband i just wanted money and now i have sexy af akashi

i’m in love with this like the fact that we fucked in the funeral like yeah i loved it and the baby will look like me and we can be a happy family where the old man is forgotten and akashi is the father and we have money and i get fucked and bred by the sexy boy

HES SO FINE LIKE THE WAY HE JUST UNDID THE CLOTHES AND LET THE DRESS RIDE UP AND TOOK THE STUPID HAT OFF AND THEN FUCKED READER BABES IDK HOW YOU THINK OF THIS BECAUSE GENUINELY ITS AMAZING AND IM ALWAYS SPEACHLESS AFTER READING IT ALL

i just love it all sm 🥺

#bakugohoex #ask ria #akashi seijuro x reader #seijuro akashi x reader #seijuro akashi #akashi seijuro #🍰 anon

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anika-ann · 3 years

Text

Words Whispered in the Dark

Type: Modern-college-professor AU - part of Attached series or a standalone

Pairing: professor!Steve Rogers x reader Word count: 6250🙈

Summary: There are things, intimate desires, which people simply don’t want to talk about out loud. Since you prefer writing those down, it applies twice as much.

Steve supports your writing – but what he’d think about your newest story… well, you’re not sure you wanted to know.

Warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, bondage, oral (M rec), consensual sensory deprivation, praise kink & body worship, ‘babygirl’, fingering, dom/sub undertones & implied age gap & professor-student dynamic & cumplay if you squint, language ---- (let me know if I missed any…why is the list so long wtf)

A/N: Can be read as a standalone. Part of the Attached ‘verse with professor!Steve.

A/N: For Siri’s 5K Soft Dark Challenge. Congratulations to the rightfully earned milestone ❤️ Thank you for hosting the challenge and kindly including even soft fics (even though I feel like my soft got lost in translation a bit).

Prompt: “Oh, honey, you weren’t supposed to see that.” - bold in the text, pls don’t @ me for the way I used it.

Stepping back into your and Steve’s shared bedroom and study room in one, you froze on spot, heart leaping to your throat.

You were lucky you didn’t drop your coffee and snack upon the sight of him, your fingers gripping the items tighter in surprise instead. But fuck, was it a close call.

Because few minutes ago, you moved to the kitchen to grab some refreshments for your brain. Relaxed air had settled over your tiny but loving household on a late Sunday morning; Steve was chilling on the bed, while you sat by your desk, laptop in your lap as your fingers danced over the keyboard, putting into words your latest… uhm, story. It was going great too and being able to steal glances at your gorgeous fiancé and muse in one person was a pleasant bonus.

Steve was, as sheepish as it sometimes made you, well-acquainted with your passion for writing, even rooting for you in his fully-supportive partner mode at all times. He read a few things of yours, both dirty and sweet ones, and he seemed to be genuinely enjoying himself. You weren’t hiding things from him, never had to; and damn, did it feel good for both of you.

So technically, you knew there was a chance you’d find him behind your desk, eyes skimming over your words since you left the computer opened, just like the document, but… well.

Nothing could prepare you for the sight on him actually doing it, shoulders tense, Adam’s apple bobbing, breathing shaky as his chest kept rising and falling irregularly.

Your own breath hitched at the sight, face feeling like set aflame, pulse hammering in your temples.

Oh no. Oh shit. This wasn’t happening--

Truth was, you really had no problem sharing your stories with Steve. But this one… well, fuck. You were so fucking screwed.

“Oh---oh honey,” you stuttered, the endearment you rarely used tasting foreign on your tongue. That was how out of it you were upon realizing what was happening here.

Steve was reading it. Steve was reading that thing. That shameless, entirely dubious thing that--- this was bad. Bad, bad, bad, really fucking bad—he hadn’t run for the hills before, no matter how filthy your stories got, but now he certainly would.

Steve’s head snapped to you at instant, cheeks flushed, eyes wide as he was caught red-handed.

“You- uh, you weren’t supposed to… see that,” you stuttered awkwardly, still unable to move an inch.

Maybe you should run for the hills just so you wouldn’t have to deal with the aftermath?

He didn’t react apart from spinning in the chair to face you, throat working again as his gaze trailed up and down your figure clad in a simple shirt and shorts, fluffy socks to keep your feet warm. Despite your plain outfit, his gaze burned with intensity and dare to say hunger, enough to stir heat in your belly.

Realizing this might be the last time you’d ever see him (okay, that was a bit of an exaggeration, maybe, but better safe than sorry), you let yourself to take him in as well, again, even if you knew every line of his body, every detail. The cut of his jaw, tendons in his throat tense as well as his shoulders, long fingers griping the armrests, legs slightly parted, accenting the unmistakable growing bulge between them.

Your heart skipped a startled and excited beat. Oh. Well. At least he liked what he read, you supposed, even if all bells in your head were ringing it alarm, because… that. That kind of story would be a little too much for him, you had thought.

Was it?

“Come here,” he whispered, voice hoarse as if he had just woken up, the same voice that caressed your ear as he rutted into you, in the lazy loving which so perfectly fit a morning like this.

Willing your feet to move, teeth sunk into your lower lip, your fluffy socks padded almost soundlessly against the floor as you obeyed his request.

He gestured for you to rid yourself of the items in your hands; once again, you obliged.

The second your hands were free, he grabbed your wrist, pulling you in for a dirty kiss, fingers sinking into your hair to keep you exactly where he wanted you. Sighing in relief, you relaxed into his affection and he wasted no time licking into your mouth, his free hand gripping onto your shirt (his shirt) to drag you into his lap.

A hazardous position in an office chair, one might think. But you had a lot of practice with your favourite professor.

Sliding lower in the seat and pulling you up, Steve positioned you to his liking, drawing an appreciative hum from you as his erection rubbed deliciously against your core. You felt him smile into the kiss at the little sound you made, his fingers digging into your flesh in order to press you into him further, rutting against your quickly dampening centre.

Okay, who were you kidding. You had been writing down your filthy fantasy, you were already soaked, Steve’s movements and apparent enthusiasm just adding to the heat. A whine escaped your lips when he withdrew a fraction, giving you a chance to breathe, hand slipping under your shorts to fondle your lower cheek.

“Well, I did see it, sweetheart,” Steve said lowly, a little too short of breath for the teasing to work in his favour. Still, your stomach twisted in anticipation of what was to follow. “And I want it.”

Your eyes snapped open, your lips parting in awe, butterflies erupting in your stomach. You met his eyes, dark pupils having almost swallowed the blue of his irises, gaze intent to prove his point. Fuck. You could come right now if he kept you sitting exactly as you were and watching you like that.

It was one thing to see him react to your fantasy laid bare for him to see – voluntarily or not – but him admitting it out loud, well that was just a whole new fucking level.

Now the idea of that actually being doable was planted in our brain and your core clenched at the wistful image you had painted with your words.

It took you another minute of staring at each other to realize what exactly he was saying without explicitly voicing it.

“Wait, right now?” you blurted out breathlessly, a single nod and a kiss to the corner of your mouth your only answer.

Fuck. Shit. Okay.

“A-alright. Let’s do this then,” you stuttered, as thrilled as nervous.

You didn’t expect that – but you weren’t one to let the opportunity pass. You framed Steve’s face with your palms, his beard rough against your skin, and pressed your lips to his in a hurried kiss, eager to get him where you needed him before he changed his mind. Last grind of your hips, swallowing his content hum, you climbed from his lap to search for something that would hold.

“Bed. Now.”

Your fingers were shaking a bit under his intent gaze as they slipped under his t-shirt, pulling it over his head. Steve was sitting on the bed now, legs parted enough for you to stand between them, watching our every move. You didn’t think you’d ever get used to the way he was looking at you – so tender, with longing and yet with such lust.

It lit your nerves on fire in the worst and best ways and that was alright with you, as long as you’d get to keep him.

He smiled at you softly, a little quirk to his eyebrow when he caught you staring and not springing into action just yet.

“What is it, babygirl?”

His hands trailing up your waist made it harder to answer.

You sighed, feeling your earlier confidence wavering. “You’re just so fucking pretty, it’s unreal.”

His lips curled up in a smirk, but the light in his eyes gave away just how much the compliment meant for him. He pulled you closer, a breathy kiss landing on your clothed stomach.

“That coming from you… could look at you all day, you must already know that,” he murmured to your shirt, sending a sparkle of courage up your chest.

You ruffled his hair and pushed him away with a chuckle, mirroring his previous smirk.

“Well, you won’t, not this time,” you sing-sang cheekily, stepping over his thigh to kneel on the bed behind him, hearing his breath catch, his hand brushing your thigh as you danced out of his reach.

Placing the scarf over his forehead first, you felt your insides twist in anticipation, fingertips tingling. God, you were really doing this.

“You ready, Professor Rogers?” you hummed to his ear, marvelling at the effect the title had on him, always, as his hands clenched into fists on his thighs.

“When you say it like that, babygirl? Yes, I am,” he grumbled, causing you to bit down on your lip.

Making sure you didn’t tie the knot too tight nor too loose, you moved the fabric so it would cover his eyes.

“Good?”

“Uh-huh,” was his wordless answer as you let your hands slid to his bare shoulders.

Steve was undoubtedly a specimen. He was every male-attracted person’s wet dream and you were the one getting your hands on him. You thanked heaven and hell for it every day. The barely visible lines of his abs, toned chest… but Christ, it was his back that would be your downfall.

Allowing your hands to wander, your fingertips traced the hard lines of his deltoids, a featherlight touch making him shudder and your mouth to actually salivate. Dropping a kiss between his shoulder blades, you scooted closer so you were literally breathing down his neck, palms sprawled over his triceps, caressing his thick biceps, down his forearms and over his fists and all the way back up.

It was almost like a beginning of a massage, you supposed, but no one could blame you if you were enjoying the sensation on your palms a little too much. You didn’t get the opportunity to appreciate Steve’s physique like this often enough. So you indulged yourself a few more times, applying more pressure, dropping a kiss to the crook of his neck every once in a while. He winced at the accidental scrape of your nails up his forearm, causing you to halt in your movements.

“You still good?” you questioned quietly, genuinely worried for a second. You realized he had barely made a sound so far.

“You could say that, yeah,” he choked out you felt your lips curl up into a smile. Stealing a glance over his shoulder, you took notice of the unmistakable hard outline on his sweatpants and gleefully resumed your movements, nibbling on his shoulder before soothing the skin with a gentle lick. “Babygirl…”

“Yeah?”

“You know what. Don’t test me,” he warned, only making you smile wider.

“Or what?”

He turned his head to side despite not being able to see you, giving you a perfect view of how tense was his jaw. Oh, you could imagine the stern look he wanted to scold you with.

“Or you’re not gonna like what’s to come when I put my hands on you,” he threatened, sighing exasperatedly when you replied with a barely audible ‘promise?’.

“In all seriousness though… what if you… uhm, couldn’t?” you asked reluctantly, not keen on sharing what you wanted… but wanting it really badly. You were sensing a pattern within yourself, seriously.

“I don’t follow--- oh,” escaped him soundlessly as your fingers attempted to wrap around his wrists and squeezed to give him a hint. “I don’t know about that, I mean-“

You felt your hear sink in disappointment, but you tried not to let it show, wondering how to try to convince him one more time. Sure, if it was a no-no, then you wouldn’t force him, he never forced you into anything either and this was about your mutual pleasure, but… now, having him partially at your mercy, the idea nudged insistently on your mind and the image of him with his hands tied above his head while you could do anything you pleased… you might have been soaking the shorts and the sheets at that.

“We don’t have to, Steve,” you assured him kindly, hundred percent honest despite planning on playing dirty. Your hands moved to his abdomen, caressing their way up his chest, accidently brushing over his left nipple, your lips moving to his ear. “But I’d be so good to you…”

“Babygirl,” he whispered, out of breath as your hand wandered down his happy trail, slipping just under the hem of his sweats, the fingers of your other hand moving to the neglected nipple, this time shamelessly toying with it.

“I’d be such a good girl for you, Professor Rogers,” you promised, keeping the smile off your voice when you heard him gulp, his cock visibly twitching. “I’d be really, really nice. Don’t you want that, Professor?”

“Y-yeah, yeah, okay-“

“Good choice,” you said approvingly, dropping a kiss to his cheek, making him groan and probably regret his decision already. You stood up, quickly looking for something you could use. “Just so you know, I think this is where the same rule applies,” you noted matter-of-factly. “You don’t like something I do, you want me to stop at any point, you tell me. I really want this to be good for you, Steve. So. What’s the word?”

From the front, you could see the blush that spread over his chest, causing you to bite your lip and nearly stumble over your feet. Good lord, Steve blindfolded, all flushed and waiting for you on the bed so you could do your worst--- now that was a sight to behold.

“Uhm… Waterloo?”

You bit your cheek so you wouldn’t laugh at his choice. It was cute and ridiculous... but also kinda hot, because well, Steve’s brains were just another turn-on for you. Of course he would choose something like that. Professor Steven Grant Rogers, history buff, certified hot nerd, the sweetest man to ever walk the Earth.

You pressed your lips together to prevent yourself from smiling too wide. You didn’t even know why. It wasn’t like he could see you.

“Okay. Waterloo it is,” you said, swiftly moving to the closet when another idea popped in your head.

Slipping into a new outfit before heading back, you were rather satisfied with yourself as you grabbed the two ties you found prior. Not that it would actually hold him – it was about the idea.

“You’re taking a bit long, babygirl…”

“And? You mind?” you teased him, stopping to stand in front of him. “Have some… pressing issues?”

“Keep it up, babygirl, see what happens once this is over,” he bit back, only making you chuckle at the perfect pass.

“I think there’s something else that’s up--- sorry, sorry,“ you mumbled when his hand landed blindly on your thigh.

His brows furrowed when he felt the difference.

“You changed.”

“Uh-huh.”

His hand trailed up curiously, right under your miniskirt and you let him… just until air got stuck in his throat upon finding you with nothing but the generous amount of slick covering your core.

“Fuck-“

“Nope,” you replied cheekily, even if the flicker of his finger caused you to shudder, his touch like liquid fire at this point.

Fuck, you wanted him. You wanted him right now and you wanted him to take you in every way he wanted… but the idea of him at your mercy was appealing enough for you to control yourself.

You grasped his wrist and shoved it away; he allowed it, but not without whining pitifully.

“Lie down, Steve, please. I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

“You better,” he grunted, unwillingly moving up the bed, obediently spreading out on the sheets and letting you guide his arms up as you climbed over him and tied his wrists together.

“Not too tight?”

He shook his head, a smirk crossing over his lips. You rolled your eyes at the double meaning, but you guessed it served you right.

Oh, but would you wipe that smirk off…

Securing the knot, you shifted to be face to face with him, lips hovering just above his mouth, breathing the same air and hoping to begin the sweet torture.

You had to admire his patience; despite definitely noticing your positions, Steve didn’t move an inch. It was up to you then – and the premise sent another thrill through your veins. Oh, you’d break him in the most delicious ways.

As soon as you erased the distance, his lips sunk into yours hungrily, wet and soft in the contrast to his beard, the sensation you adored, having you squirming above him until you remembered again that you were the one in control.

You kissed him with vigour, licking into his mouth, one hand still where his were joined, the other pressing against his chest. Your tongue met his, revelling at his taste and at another of his tries to dominate the kiss, to set things as they usually were. But as much as you loved it when he took charge… not today.

Parting abruptly, his lips following on instinct, you couldn’t but grin to yourself. Kissed his fingertips, you lingered at the one still glistening with your juices. You took it to your mouth, swirling your tongue around it and sucking lightly, feeling Steve’s heart speed up under your palm like crazy.

When you lightly grazed the skin with your teeth, his groan and the way his hips thrusted upward was the best reward you could get.

Kissing a trail down his arm – because goddammit you loved his arms – you hummed to yourself contentedly whenever you could feel the slightest shift of his body under yours and greedy for more contact, you allowed yourself to put most of your weight fully on him.

The choked sound it elicited from him startled you at first – until you realized that with your skirt hiked up, you weren’t the only one enjoying the skin-on-skin contact, your slick coating Steve’s lower stomach just above his sweats. Hopefully it was giving him ideas – it was certainly was to you.

Rustle of fabric, ragged breaths, occasional smacking noise when you moved up or left a small hickey on his shoulder and above his collarbone. Your fingers toyed gently with his nipples as you kissed his sternum before replacing your hands with your mouth once more, sucking, drawing a quiet whimper from him.

Fuck couldn’t get enough of the noises he was making. The pretty breathless moans of your name, the curses slipping from his lips… it was like music, but on a desperately low volume.

“What is it you always tell me?” you teased, lamely covering for the fact that your own arousal was nearly uncontainable. Shit, you loved how sensitive his nipples were… how much more sensitive he must have been now, no visual, laser focused on every touch instead? You wanted more… so much more. “Don’t hold these pretty sounds from me?”

Steve gritted his teeth at the remark, but as soon as you positioned your heat directly over his hard length and rolled your hips, he sang for you beautifully.

“Shit, sweetheart-“

The rush of confidence, the feeling of power was almost overwhelming – the image of him, lips parted in mute pleasure, certainly was. You were a little too close to climbing your own peak a little too quickly to your liking.

Sitting up straight, you undulated your hips few times, hands tracing patterns over Steve’s rapidly rising chest and abs. Much to his obvious dislike, you all too soon slid lower, your mouth making its way down his abdomen and then you finally, finally rid him of his sweatpants and boxers in one go.

His cock sprang free, hard and red at the tip, leaking just enough to cause your mouth to water and your thighs to rub together to give yourself some of the friction you craved so much.

Hands planted on his hips, you kissed along his hip bones and the apex of his thighs, taking your sweet time exploring everything you could – except for where you suspected he wanted you the most. You had to grin for yourself when you cupped his balls, causing him to hiss in relief, the muscles of his abdomen and legs clenching beautifully.

“Talk to me, Steve,” you hummed as you replaced your hand with your tongue, licking a stripe towards his base.

“Christ- don’t stop--“

“Eloquent as always, Professor,” you retreated, causing him to let out a growly sound you never heard before and had your core tingle, cunt feeling awfully empty.

Christ was right, alright. Seeing his chest heaving, fingers twitching as if he wanted nothing but to tug at your hair to keep you there and stuff your mouth full of his cock--- if you didn’t get some soon, you might actually combust.

So you put your mouth back to work on his sack again, fingers barely curling around the base of his cock, giving a first experimental stroke before you squeezed a bit tighter – and then swiftly moved away, his hips following on instinct in, craving more.

“For fuck’s --- how did I ever think you were sweet and nice?” he complained huskily, impatience lacing his voice.

You chuckled, but heard him out, leaving his balls in order to give more attention to his impressive and possibly painfully hard length.

“Beats me,” you retorted, hands busy with gentle strokes to his shaft. “I mean, we literally got together thanks to you finding out I wrote about sucking and riding your dick right in your office, Professor Rogers.”

“You little-“

His protests died in his throat, features twisting in wordless pleasure when you finally wrapped your lips around the head of his cock, delivering a few kitten licks to the tip. His taste exploded on your tongue, eliciting a content hum which he certainly felt too, because a jerk of his hips pushed him deeper to your mouth.

Slowly swallowing as much as you could without having him hit the back of your throat, you curled your hand tighter around the base and started bobbing your head.

A string of breathless profanities left his mouth whenever you squeezed, only getting filthier when you hollowed your cheeks. It was all encouragement you needed to take him deeper, giving him a taste of heaven as his tip brushed the back of your throat.

“Babygirl, fuck, fuck, yeah--- just like that…”

Your own arousal became unbearable, a surge of hot need squeezing your insides at Steve’s praise. Slipping a hand under your skirt, you sighed in relief when your fingers caressed your lower lips, hips bucking forward in desperate need of more.

Your predicament was impossible to solve – you wanted him inside you already, so badly, but fuck the picture Steve made, even if blurry as tears prickled your eyes whenever he hit the back of your throat, was just too divine.

Lips crimson with how he kept biting at them to keep at least a little quiet, hair sticking to his forehead, muscles drawn tight like strings as he kept clenching them both unwittingly and consciously in hope to get you where he wanted you and the fresh taste of him whenever you did something he particularly liked--- you simply had to feast your eyes on him. And he couldn’t do the same… or take charge for that matter.

So fucking pretty like this.

And you were the only one seeing him like that, tied up, helpless against the assault on his senses sans vision. He gave himself up to you like that, willingly. The thought warmed you up inside out, enough to drive you nearly as crazy as if you were in his place.

Wasting no time with preparation you didn’t need, you pushed two fingers into your core at once, whimpering around Steve’s cock when you did. Your whole body relaxed, the pent-up desire easing a little and yet burning hotter. You pumped your fingers slowly, the sensation so blissful you had to remind yourself to keep working on Steve too.

Still, your actions didn’t go unnoticed.

“Are you—are you touching yourself, babygirl?” he whispered, tongue peeking out to wet his lips.

It took you a second to swallow the baseless embarrassment and literally swallow, causing Steve to let out a moan so wrecked and pretty you felt your pussy clamp around your fingers.

Hoping your words would come out less shy than you felt when saying them, you released Steve’s length with a wet pop to tease him some more.

“Yeah, I am…. Why? You want a taste?” you asked sweetly, clearing your throat that suddenly felt so empty.

The guttural moan that erupted in Steve’s chest was music to your ears, his cock twitching and glistening with fresh beads of precum a sight to behold.

“Yeah, babygirl… give it to me,” he choked out and the genuine desire in his voice was like a punch to your solar plexus. Your walls clenched around your fingers, the familiar coil in your abdomen tightening.

Swallowing a pitiful sigh at the loss, you stretched over the warm length of Steve’s body, gulping when his own parted in invitation.

Jesus fucking Christ.

Reluctantly, you let the fingers sticky with your juices brush over Steve’s lips, gasping when his tongue instantly slid out to lick at the essence eagerly, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

“Fuck, always so sweet, babygirl…” he muttered, your breath stuck in your throat when his mouth blindly chased after your fingers before you could withdraw your hand.

“Oh my god-“ you choked out, mesmerized, your pussy clamping around nothing.

He sucked greedily, the image alone causing your hips to rut against his, your clit catching against his rock-hard shaft. Your eyes fluttered close in bliss, stars exploding behind your eyelids.

Unwittingly, you worked your hips faster, riding Steve’s thick cock even without having him inside. The friction, the soaked fabric of your skirt brushing against your clit, the sensation of Steve’s tongue lapping at your fingers as if he had his mouth on your pussy instead--- you felt the coil in your belly snap, the world turning white before you knew how.

You came with a broken cry, blissed out and shocked at the sudden release, but riding your pleasure out on instinct.

Grazing your fingers with his teeth as he let go, Steve spoke words so filthy our head spun.

“That’s it, babygirl. Fuck. Look how little my girl needed to come all over my cock. Using me so shamelessly. You must have really wanted it, didn’t you…” he said, voice hoarse with a tint of smugness as you came back from your high, the dirty talk only already riling you up again.

You had no idea what just happened, but you had a feeling Steve immensely enjoyed it as he somehow got the upper hand on you despite being the one tied up.

For someone who was supposed to have all blood out of his brain and have it in his dick instead, he was way too smug… but you’d reverse it again. He had no idea what was about to hit him.

Stealing a kiss to taste ourself on his tongue, your fingers went to remove the blindfold.

Your professor was, in certain aspects, still just a simple guy – he liked a good visual. It was silly of you to rid him of it in the first place, no matter how much fun you had with it.

Steve blinked in surprise, squinting against the sudden light, while you slipped out of your bralette, leaving you in nothing but your very schoolgirl-like mini skirt. You smiled at him sweetly, kissing his mouth once more, thumb softly brushing his lips as you towered over him, nearly giving him a view of what was under the fabric.

“I always want you,” you whispered with a smile, your hand cupping your breast, gently tweaking your nipple, his gaze following the movement as his fingers twitched. You bit the inside of your cheek, hand slowly trailing down. “Want you to touch me, everywhere. Always so wet and ready for you…”

Dark eyes watched you as you slipped your fingers under the waist of the skirt, a tiny mewl escaping you when the pad of your fingers bumped into your clit.

You would have felt stupid trying to give him a show after you came after almost nothing, but the warning growl of your name once again assured you that unsexy was the last thing that came to Steve’s mind when looking at you. It warmed both your belly and your heart. You almost felt regretful for a moment that you were still keeping him hanging, neglecting his no doubt aching cock, but he thought he had the upper hand here.

He was wrong.

“Always thinking of you… even when I’m alone, always thinking about your fingers, stretching me so good, about you fucking me, so hard till I’m screaming your name,” you continued in hushed voice, revelling at how tight his jaw set, eyes narrowed, breathing once again picking up.

“Babygirl—”

“Oops, sorry,” you chipped, pecking his lips as you withdrew your hand, quickly drawing a trail of kisses down his chest and abdomen, unable to resist a lick here and there where the line of his muscles looked particularly tasty. “Just thought you’d like to see my mouth on you. You like to watch, Professor Rogers, no?”

He never got a chance to answer as you guided him to your mouth again, holding his gaze as he indeed watched, eyebrows furrowing, each breath hitching, soon chanting your name. You caressed his balls as well, tongue tracing the vein on the underside of his length, your other hand firmly around his base.

You were the first to avert his gaze as your eyes fluttered close so you could fully focus on your task, relaxing your throat.

“Babygirl--- fuck me-- I’m gonna-“

You eased up a bit, earning a frustrated growl, the corners of your lips rising a bit as you imagined the ugly glare he must have shot you.

Thinking about it, closing your eyes was a mistake.

You never saw it coming as a hand suddenly sunk into your hair, yanking you up face to face with him, alarmed eyes staring into black ones as his pupils nearly swallowed all the blue or his irises.

He had slipped out of the poorly tied bonds, clearly fed up with your shenanigans.

Ah-oh, sounded in the back of your mind.

Another part of you didn’t fail to notice that despite the swift movement and calling an end to your games, Steve’s fingers were careful not to pull too harshly, making sure he was cradling your head safely. Same when he rolled you over, trapping you under the hard lines of muscle you had been tasting a moment ago, protective cage of his arms around your head.

If you weren’t so startled, you would have swooned.

You never got the chance, because any possible sound was muffled by his mouth crashing into yours, hand slipping from your nape to your throat to keep you in place with a wordless warning, hips pressed to yours just in case you would want to escape.

You would never. Even if you had a hunch Steve was about to ruin you in a way that would have you feel it for days.

Having enough of your mouth for the moment, giving you a chance to gasp for air, he stared at you smugly, one corner of his perfectly red lips raised in a smirk.

“Wicked little thing, aren’t you?” he grunted, thumb caressing the hollow of your throat softly, causing you to gulp.

You summoned your best innocent look, doe-like eyes that usually worked. “S-sorry?”

A flicker of a smile as he forced his knee between your thighs, instantly pressing against your still sensitive core.

“I don’t think you are, babygirl,” he huffed, nosing the crook of your neck, biting down sharper than you expected, a yelp erupting from your throat. He soothed in with the pad of his thumb, smiling wide, something soft in his eyes when he looked at you again. You were so fucking baffled at what that meant. ”That perfect filthy mind of yours… and you still get a bit shy, huh?”

“W-what?”

“You know what I think, babygirl?” he whispered intimately, teeth grazing the shell of your ear. “I think that you left the document opened on purpose.”

Your rapidly beating heart stopped in your chest, wind knocked out of you completely.

Fuck.

You were so busted.

Steve had read you like a book wide open--- because of course he did.

Yes, there had been a great part of you who wished for him to see it, hoping in this exact outcome; there had been an equally great part dreading what he would think about you. Writing the story down, you were thinking a bit more with your pussy than your brain though, so you decided to leave it for Steve to read. If he went for it, maybe you’d get something from it. If he didn’t, you’d move on. No harm no fool, right?

Right. No.

Now he did know and saw right through your little trick. And damn, did he look proud of himself for figuring it out. You were in so much trouble.

Somehow, you were as horrified as excited.

Steve chuckled as you swallowed against your suddenly dry throat, eyes no doubt wide as saucers.

“Oh, you did. Too shy to ask for it, leaving that to me instead. My sneaky, needy girl,” he muttered, fondness and humour with a dark lilt in his voice.

“I—I didn’t know how-“ you stuttered, feeling your face burning in embarrassment at his tone, just a smidge patronizing.

You averted his gaze, a vain attempt really, knowing he wouldn’t let you. Slipping two fingers under your chin, he guided you to face him again.

“Didn’t know how… hmm… so you thought you’d play me? That’s really naughty, sweetheart.”

“I’m sorry… Professor Rogers,” you added quickly in hopes to mollify him, indeed earning a sweet kiss.

“Oh, it’s okay, babygirl. You know why?” he tested you and you could only shake your head lightly, guessing at best what kind of revenge awaited you. “Because you’re my good girl and you’ll let me settle the score. I’ll play with you now. It’s only fair, no?”

Oh fuck, here it came.

For a brief second, his lust-filled eyes appeared startingly clear and sober, boring into yours with a serious question.

It’s only fair, no? he had said.

It’s alright with you if the roles reverse, right? was what he was truly asking, checking, always checking if you were okay, just like you had been checking with him.

Because sex was fun, but only if all parties were on board.

Because Steve was sweet, considerate, soft and loving and he was everything you ever looked for in a man and more. You trusted him. You always did and you trusted him now – he would make you feel so so good. It was never really a question.

“Y—yes, it is.”

“Good girl,” he praised you, causing your core to weep. And he knew it, oh did he know and shamelessly used it against you... a little payback to all the professor you’d been throwing around. “Close your eyes.”

And you did. The blindfold came first, then hands, his fingers skimming over your forearms teasingly, feather-light touch on your sensitive skin, before he finally brought them up and tied them together.

“You ready, sweetheart?”

No, you were absolutely not ready, but your body was buzzing with desire again at that point, so you breathed a soft yes. And maybe, just maybe… no matter how you had enjoyed driving him crazy, cheeky and full of feeling of power, this felt like home. Because you trusted him – and so you gave yourself to him wholly.

He hummed in contentment as you confirmed, causing you shiver as he nosed the skin under your ear. “Good. Because I’m going to wreck you for that little stunt of yours.”

His words tickled the sensitive skin and shit, okay, your nerve endings were tingling, the sensation amplified tenfold with your eyes covered. Steve really was going to wreck you.

Mouth moving to your breast, he took the nipple in his mouth, shifting so the head of his cock nudged at your weeping opening, pushing just a bit with a promise of a delicious stretch, almost, almost there.

“Please,” was all you managed to breathe out, growing impatient, hissing when gave a playful bite to the underside of your breast, sending a surge of arousal through your veins. You back arched, a mewl escaping your when Steve moved his hips away completely, denying you.

“And you’re gonna take it, aren’t you?” he muttered to your skin, lips trailing lower and lower, warm and soft, beard leaving behind a delicious burn.

“Y- yes.”

“Good girl. And what else are you going to do? Tell me,” he encouraged you, large palms pushing your thighs apart so he could fit the insanely broad shoulders between them.

Mind foggy with need, senses overwhelmed, you still had enough wits to understand what he wanted to hear.

“Thank you,” you breathed out.

“Damn straight.” His words were a damp hot blow of air against your mound, causing your hips to jolt as if your body was begging to be taken apart by him already – blissfully aware of how he would put it back together again.

And with an inevitable scratch to your lower lips and a kitten lick to your swollen bud for starters, Steve did.

Attached masterlist

S.R. masterlist

I sincerely apologize for twisting the prompt and not even being able to write a soft enough fic the one time I’m supposed to.

But I hope you enjoyed anyway. I mean, if you made it to the end…

Thank you for reading :-*

Your Anika I’m-Not-a-Smut-Writer Ann

P.S. Fic loosely relates to one of the reblogs of this series: “You know one good thing about being an erotic writer is - you don’t have to talk about your embarrassing kinks. You want to tie your boyfriend up? You just email him a story about it 'subtly’ hinting at it.” Close enough?

#siris5ksoftdarkchallenge #fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #professor steve rogers #LEMONS #mind the warnings #steve rogers x you #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers #captain america au #college au #modern au #wrong attachment au #captain america #captain america x you #captain america x reader #attached #words whispered in the dark #anika ann

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iamwestiec · 3 years

Text

June 3: Nie Mingjue

trans man Nie Mingjue, first time NieLan, and a little bonus trans!LWJ too

read on ao3

💙💗🤍💗💙

They had cautioned Nie Mingjue, his father and the healers, that students at the lectures might not be familiar with young men like him, that not all sects were as open-minded about such things. For the most part, it hadn't been an issue—the Lan Sect's strictures against gossip and immodesty in dress served to make the particulars of his body irrelevant as compared to his obvious mastery of the saber or his apparently less-obvious talents in the classroom.

(He might prefer martial training, but the first son of Qinghe could hardly allow himself to be found lacking in any of the Six Arts. He would, if pressed, admit that he had a very poor ear for music, but he made up for it by extra diligence in other pursuits.)

So it wasn't until he found himself in a secluded meadow in the back hills, trading kisses with Lan Xichen, that Nie Mingjue even thought to mention it.

"Ah, Xichen," he said, running his nose against the edge of a graceful ear. (Even Lan Xichen's ears were graceful!) "Forgive my presumptuousness, but if you were thinking of taking my robes off, there's something you should know."

"Nothing to forgive," Lan Xichen insisted. He gave another kiss to Nie Mingjue's neck, then sat back, a twinkle in his dark eyes. "I've been thinking about it for some time and hoped you were too."

Nie Mingjue could feel himself blushing. "Awfully bold for a Lan," he muttered.

"Awfully shy for a Nie," Lan Xichen countered, smiling wide and guileless. He wrapped a hand around Nie Mingjue's wrist and rubbed soothing circles with his thumb. "We don't have to if you're not comfortable, you know. I'm more than happy with your kisses."

NMJ shook his head. "It's not that. I just... might not be what you're expecting." Lan Xichen nodded for him to continue, not rushing him, merely patient and attentive. Nie Mingjue took a deep breath and tried to explain this for the first time to anyone outside his family. "They thought I would be a girl, when I was born."

Lan Xichen's face lit with understanding. "Oh, you're like—" he cut himself off with an apologetic shake of his head— "ah, someone else I know." He raised Nie Mingjue's hand to his lips and placed a kiss in the palm. "Thank you for telling me. Please let me know if I do or say anything wrong."

"You haven't yet," Nie Mingjue promised, heart warming in Lan Xichen's gentle understanding. "Did you still want to...?"

"As long as you still do, yes," Lan Xichen said eagerly, blushing a little for the first time. "I haven't done this with anyone before, so you'll have to show me what you like."

"We'll figure it out together, then," Nie Mingjue said and pulled Lan Xichen in for another heated kiss.

[Some NSFW/🔞 content in this one under the cut! Words used for NMJ are: folds, erection, cock; NMJ's chest is not mentioned/described, and he does not experience dysphoria here.]

Nie Mingjue liked Lan Xichen's lips, they discovered, over his collarbones and stomach and hipbones. He liked the sounds Lan Xichen made when he took him in hand, his cock jerking in Nie Mingjue's fist.

He liked when Lan Xichen rubbed long, elegant fingers along Nie Mingjue's folds in return, stroking and tugging at his own erection.

He especially liked it when Lan Xichen whispered sweetly in his ear how hard and hot and eager his cock felt.

They brought each other off like that, mouths hot and hungry against skin and hands exploring new territory, new ways to tease and touch.

After, Nie Mingjue swiped his fingers through the mess Lan Xichen had left on his hip and brought them to his mouth, smacking thoughtfully. "Mine tastes better," he decided. "Must be all those medicinal herbs you Lans eat."

Lan Xichen laughed and showily licked his own fingers clean. "I would happily taste Mingjue-ge more directly next time, if he would like," he said, and Nie Mingjue felt his cheeks burn.

"They told me you Lans would be very prim and private, you know," he said, grinning over at him.

Lan Xichen made a show of looking around, then sniffed, primly. "I don't see anyone else, seems private enough to me." Nie Mingjue laughed and tugged Lan Xichen in for another kiss.

They dressed and did their best to set each other's hair back in order, and Lan Xichen took Nie Mingjue's hand as they began walking back towards the main areas of Cloud Recesses.

"You're right that we are private about things," Lan Xichen said suddenly, "but I know it can be helpful to know someone who understands, sometimes. The person I mentioned before, would you be willing to talk to him? Not about—" he gestured between them, cheeks pinking again "—this, of course, just, in general."

Nie Mingjue consisered, then nodded. He had people to talk to at home—an older cousin, some of the healers—about cultivating his body the way that felt right, meditations, foods, ways to use his qi. His cousin had even figured out how to grow a moustache. He wondered if Lan Xichen would enjoy kissing him with one? Maybe he'd surprise him...

(There was only one person Nie Mingjue could think of for whom Lan Xichen would ask such a personal favor, so he wasn't terribly surprised when, a few days later, Lan Wangji knocked on his door.

He was quiet as ever, but the chubby-cheeked kid he remembered was replaced with the gawky beginnings of long limbs and that tall stature shared by so many of the Lans. He'll look just like Xichen in a few years, Nie Mingjue thought.

"Wangji-di!" he said aloud. "You're looking so grown up! Come in, come in. I understand we might have some things in common...")

Pride Snippets Masterpost!

#PrideMonthSnippets #Nie Mingjue #trans nie mingjue #Lan Xichen #Lan Wangji #trans lan wangji #nielan #first time #coming out #westie writes #the untamed #mdzs

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the-scandalorian · 3 years

Text

Tempered Glass: Chapter 1

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Reader (no use of Y/N) Rating: M (will become explicit in later chapters) Word Count: 5.5k Warnings: slow burn, canon-typical violence, cursing, sexy thoughts, pining, non-graphic description of wounds Summary: With the ghosts of your own mysterious past close on your heels, you can’t afford to get in the middle of someone else’s fight; however, attraction drives you to make a reckless decision, and you end up swept up in the Mandalorian’s story. Notes: (1) Reader is bisexual. It will probably only come up peripherally, but I wanted to make a note of that. (2) I did my best to keep physical descriptions of the reader out of my writing, but please let me know if something slipped in that isn’t as inclusive as it could be!

Masterlist | Next Chapter

Image from The Art of Star Wars: The Mandalorian

You felt the weight of the Mandalorian’s gaze before you saw him.

Sitting in the cantina on Nevarro, you were alone in a corner booth—a seat close to the back exit that had a clear view of the front door.

You were halfway through your drink when the hairs on the back of your neck prickled, and you had the overwhelming feeling that you were being watched.

You scanned the cantina and, in your periphery, registered the Mandalorian’s head snap back from your direction to face the man sitting across from him. You hadn’t noticed him enter, but it must have been just moments ago because you surveyed your surroundings every few minutes.

The two men were seated a few tables away. You observed the Mandalorian for a moment, noting his stiff-backed posture and the tension in his shoulders under his battle-worn armor. He could tell you’d caught him staring and that you were watching him.

The man sitting across from the Mandalorian was gesticulating as he spoke. You’d been on Nevarro long enough to recognize him as Greef Karga, local leader of the Guild. You could only see his back, but he was boisterous—a stark contrast to the Mandalorian’s silent stillness—and his voice carried.

Karga was saying something about bounties and currency—no surprise there. Mandalorians were the most feared bounty hunters in the galaxy. You didn’t know much about them besides the legends you’d heard as a child, though it was very unclear what was true and what was myth. You’d only ever seen one in person before, and that Mandalorian had been terrifying, threatening.

This Mandalorian, however, was... intriguing? He was, of course, intimidating—in his head-to-toe armor with a long rifle leaned against the table, he was the very picture of a warrior. Any person with sense would be scared of him, and judging by the sidelong glances he was getting from the other patrons, most were.

The very relatable experience of having someone catch you in the act of watching them—as you’d just done to him—however, humanized this Mandalorian. Noting his broad shoulders, you couldn’t help wondering what he looked like under all that heavy metal. You’d heard rumors that some Mandalorians never took off their armor in front of another person. That would be a real shame.

Though you’d have preferred to continue thinking about the man under the armor (and the things you wanted to do with him), a small voice in your head reminded you of the potentially dangerous reality of your situation.

Why was he watching me? He can’t possibly recognize me.

No one had come after you in years. There was likely still a steep bounty on your head, but many of the people who wanted to find you were dead, imprisoned, or deep in hiding. Some were convinced you’d been taken out in a star cruiser explosion (because you almost had been). And, you no longer looked like the photo that was attached to your bounty puck. Your hair was a radically different shade and length. You wore contacts to obscure the real color of your eyes. You always chose high-necked clothing to conceal the identifying scar that slashed an angry line beneath your clavicle.

You kept a low profile, moved often, and assumed a fake identity, but you felt safe enough in your anonymity to come to a planet like Nevarro, a place that was swarming with hunters.

Plus, you reasoned that if the Mandalorian was looking for you for a job, this is probably not how it would have happened. It would have been stealthy and quick, potentially bloody and violent.

No, you didn’t think he was looking for you, which meant he had been looking at you. Out of interest. And that was so, so much better.

You turned your body towards him pointedly to make it more obvious that you were watching him. The slight forward lean of his shoulders told you he registered your movement in his periphery. His helmet stayed trained on Karga, but it was impossible to know exactly where he was looking through the black t-shape of his visor. You would have bet he was looking back at you.

The Mandalorian responded to Karga, pushing some credits back across the table. You could hear the low undercurrent of his modulated voice, but you couldn’t quite make out what he was saying. It looked like they were arguing about the currency of the credits on the table.

As Karga dug in his pocket for something, the Mandalorian turned his helmet slowly back towards you. Throwing caution to the wind, you smiled at him and winked, and he dipped his head in acknowledgement. You watched him expectantly, figuring this was when he’d walk over to your table.

Instead, he turned his head back to Karga, responded to something he said, and grabbed the credits off the table. They were clearly finishing up their deal. The Mandalorian slid out of the booth and strapped the long rifle to his back. He started toward the front door.

Maybe you’d read the whole situation wrong. Like you, he was trained to be aware of everyone, everything around him. Perhaps, he’d just been surveying the cantina, not necessarily you.

Feeling slightly disappointed, you finished your drink, dropped some credits on the table, and got up to leave. You were pulling on your jacket when a familiar feeling made you flick your head up. The Mandalorian was standing at the front of the cantina, his dark silhouette framed in the light of the open doorway, visor trained on you.

From where he was standing, he looked you up and down, lowering and raising his helmet to survey your body from top to bottom and back up again—a gesture that could have easily been achieved without moving his entire head in such an obvious way. His penetrating gaze and brazen attention made you shiver.

He waited to see what you would do.

You were tempted to go to him, to see what would happen, but the stubborn part of you wanted him to come to you—and, more importantly, the sensible part of you was worried this was somehow a trap. You made an impulsive choice and decided to prolong the chase...whether that chase would prove to be literal or figurative, you weren’t totally sure.

You smiled slyly at him and turned, slipping out the back door.

***

The second time you crossed paths with the Mandalorian, you saw him before he saw you.

You were walking down Nevarro’s main thoroughfare, a busy street lined with vendors, pushing through the crowd, when you spotted the back of his reflective helmet. A couple weeks had passed since you had seen him in the cantina, and you’d been hoping to see him again, always keeping an eye out for his distinctive profile.

These past two weeks, you’d found your thoughts straying to his image—strong, mysterious, intimidating. He was sexy. There was no getting around it. You’d spent enough time around people in masks and full-body armor to know that it wasn’t just the mystery of the helmet that attracted you to him. There was something about him you couldn’t shake.

It didn’t help that you were bored and lonely here on Nevarro. It was not your favorite planet. It was dry and hot, the surface a mosaic of cracked flows of hardened lava and loose tephra—unwelcoming terrain. It was volcanically active, too, steam pouring from fractures in the hard, black ground. A river of molten lava ran under the city itself. Who would choose to live here?

For you, Nevarro was no more than a stopover—a place to stay for a few months before moving on to the next planet. You could leave any time, easily book passage to a bigger city on a prettier planet, but that shameless part of you that imagined the Mandalorian fucking you in his full armor was bold enough to convince yourself to stick around for a little longer and see if you could run into him again. Why not?

You’d been running for years, denying yourself comfort, companionship, consistency. Couldn’t you indulge just this once?

You had no reason to think the Mandalorian had thought of you for one second after seeing you in the cantina, but you let yourself hope. He didn’t hide the way he looked at you, and he hadn’t pursued you as a quarry when you left the cantina (and what a relief that was), so that meant...he’d flirted with you...right? That was probably how a Mandalorian flirted? Maybe you were stuck in his head the way he was stuck in yours? A girl could dream.

You watched his helmet disappear and reappear as you both weaved through the throngs of people. The Mandalorian had a purposeful gait and an immediate effect on everyone around him: the crowd parted for him as people avoided his path and his gaze. No one wanted to be noticed by a Mandalorian.

Well, almost no one.

The Mandalorian clearly relied on his menacing appearance and the notorious lore associated with his armor to ensure that he was left alone. You, on the other hand, depended on stealth and the ability to disappear in a swarm of people to stay hidden. This meant that while the crowd parted easily for him, you struggled to wend your way through it.

He turned down a side street.

The fact that he’d hounded your thoughts since you first saw him spurred you into recklessness, and you followed. As you turned down the same side street, you saw the edge of his cape disappear into an alley. The further away you moved from the main street, the more you began to question yourself.

This is potentially a bad idea.

This is definitely a bad idea.

Your existence hinged on your ability to stay lost, to be anonymous, to change your appearance, to never be sought out. And here you were, seeking out a bounty hunter.

You’d been slipping into a dangerous false sense of security these past few months—spending more time in each place, neglecting to change your chaincode as often as you should. Just because no one had come for you in a couple years, didn’t mean you were safe. You needed to snap yourself out of this delusional thinking.

But maybe... not yet?

You picked up your pace.

It was just the two of you in a long alleyway, and you were sure he could sense you behind him by the slight turn of his head, but he didn’t stop or turn around. You weren’t being stealthy, only a few long strides behind him. He had to know you were there.

He walked surprisingly quietly, considering his heavy armor and determined stride. The loudest sound he made was his cape whipping around his calves. His long rifle was strapped to his back, and he was carrying a camtono in his left hand.

He quickly slipped down another shadowy passageway that you hadn’t noticed. You turned to follow, about to say something, but the passage was deserted. You walked to the end and back, checking to see if he’d turned again, but there was no trace of him. No doorways led off the passage. The only things in the alley were a stack of abandoned wooden pallets and a grate that emitted hot steam. He must have given you the slip on purpose, taken some secret route to evade the stranger on his tail.

Understandable. It’s what you would have done too. I probably should have come up with a better plan than just pursuing him.

Well, fuck.

You were more disappointed than you cared to admit, but you turned and headed back to the apartment you were renting a few blocks away. You were slightly embarrassed by how impulsive you’d just been. You wouldn’t have felt so abashed if it had paid off, but it hadn’t.

You’d overstayed your time on Nevarro. Your self-imposed limit was two months per location, and you’d been here two and a half. You couldn’t push it any more, especially for such a ridiculous reason. It was time to go.

***

The third time you encountered the Mandalorian, neither of you saw the other coming.

You packed up your things, fitting everything you needed in one backpack. You purchased more food and let the hours of the afternoon drag on, waiting for the sun to sink low in the sky before heading out.

When it was evening, you slipped your blaster into the holster at the small of your back. You slid a vibroblade into the sheath at your hip and strapped a much smaller one to your calf where it was concealed under your pants. As you slung your bag over your shoulder and scanned your small space to make sure you hadn’t forgotten anything, noise erupted outside—an explosion, not far away.

There were enough ex-Imperials and bounty hunters on Nevarro that street fights and loud commotions were commonplace. You slipped out your front door, figuring you could avoid the action by slinking through the alleyways. You knew the layout of the city fairly well by now.

You crept through the dim streets. You guessed that the fighting was a couple blocks to your left based on the muffled sounds of intermittent blaster fire. You made your way toward the cantina where you knew a few regulars who would have transpo connections, but you only made it a couple blocks from your apartment before you ran into trouble.

Suddenly, shouts echoed down the street behind you. You made a hasty left turn, looking back to see if anyone was following as you broke into a run. With your head turned, you didn’t see the Mandalorian backing his way down the street toward you. You collided painfully with his back and crumpled to the ground next to him. He, mostly unfazed, made a grunting sound and snapped his head to the side to see who’d hit him. He kept his body and his blaster trained forward at two shadowy figures that were stalking towards him, but he pointed his left vambrace down at you, prepared to neutralize you if needed.

He cocked his head at you as if trying to assess whether or not you were a threat. Before you could think of anything to say, blaster fire screamed down the alley toward both of you. You grabbed your own blaster and sprang to your feet.

Noting the way you trained your blaster away from him, the Mandalorian redirected his attention back to the oncoming assailants. As more blaster fire streaked toward you, he jumped in front of you to shield your body with his and fired back down the alley.

I guess he decided I’m not a threat.

The figures drew nearer—one, a hulking man, and the other, a wiry woman with blue hair... both bounty hunters. They slunk around stray crates and garbage bins, making it difficult for either of you to land a direct hit.

The Mandalorian’s beskar armor lived up to the crazy stories you’d heard. Blaster fire pinged off of it without leaving a mark. Standing so close behind him, you noticed that his armor was different than what he’d worn just earlier that day. His old armor, painted a rusty reddish-brown, had been mismatched and battered. This was new, pristine, unpainted—a stunning reflective silver.

It was the same Mandalorian though. That you were sure of.

You kept most of your body behind his protective stance, just peaking your head and arm out periodically to take a shot. You leaned around him again to fire, and you hit the woman in the thigh while she was momentarily exposed. She grunted in pain and paused her advance.

You ducked back behind the Mandalorian. You were surprised and confused by the way the he was treating you like a partner, protecting you instinctually. You hadn’t exchanged so much as a word yet.

Weren’t Mandalorians supposed to be merciless, violent bounty hunters? Why was he trusting you? For that matter, why were you trusting him? It sounded absurd to think that he just felt trustworthy.

The next time you poked your head out, you noticed that the man had stopped shooting and was watching you intently from where he was hiding behind a stack of boxes. He made eye contact with you and held it, and you saw recognition dawn on his face. He pointed at you, turning to the woman to yell something in a language you didn’t recognize, and then charged forward, blaster drawn. His mouth formed your name, your real name, as he thundered towards you. You froze where you stood, partially exposed.

Fuck. He recognized me so easily. How?

Hot blaster fire zinged past your ear. The Mandalorian lurched forward and fell to one knee in a controlled movement as fire erupted from his vambrace. His quick thinking snapped you out of your panic, but your heart thundered as you processed how close you’d come to getting shot.

As the man’s clothes caught fire and he began to flail in panic, you came back to your senses and shot him in the chest.

The female bounty hunter, who was still several paces behind the man, disappeared down an alley behind her, just as you resumed shooting in her direction.

It won’t be long before word spreads that I’m alive on Nevarro. FUCK.

The footfalls of the woman faded quickly, and you knew she was too far ahead to catch.

You and the Mandalorian were left alone in the alley. Things were quiet for a moment.

You turned to look at each other. It was then that you noticed the bundle tucked tightly in the crook of his right arm, the same arm that held his blaster. He shuffled the bundle to his left arm carefully... tenderly?

He tilted his helmet slightly, starting to say something just as you did the same. Before either of you could form a sentence, several more figures rounded the corner behind you.

“Come on,” you yelled, grabbing his arm to drag him forward. For the moment, the two of you were in this together. It was better than being caught in this fray alone. You figured you’d be able to slip away from the action soon enough.

As you ran through the streets, you both noted the echoing footsteps picking up behind you at each juncture. More and more people—bounty hunters—were joining the pursuit. It seemed like every bounty hunter in Nevarro was being drawn to the Mandalorian.

What did he do to bring this much heat down on himself? I need to lose him.

You considered turning down every street or alley you passed, but at least one hunter blocked each one. Every doorway was shut tight. The hunters were right on your heels. You kept running, the Mandalorian pounding along behind you, until you reached the main street, emerging near the archway that marked the entrance to town. Beyond the archway, the flat expanse of Nevarro stretched out before you; a silver ship, not far ahead, was the only thing that broke up the uniform landscape.

You both stopped abruptly in the middle of the street, as at least twenty bounty hunters closed in around you, each with a blinking fob in their hand. You were trapped. The pinging chorus of the fobs was enough to rip you back to a not-so-distant time when that sound was a constant refrain in your nightmares. But even at the height of the Empire’s search for you, you’d never had this many people on your tail.

Up until this moment, you hadn’t been too worried about making a getaway. You knew you would get out of this. You’d been in worse situations. But now? Blood rushed in your ears, and your adrenaline spiked. You were cornered, outnumbered, and somehow in the middle of a fight that had nothing to do with you. You were surrounded by bounty hunters, and one had already recognized you. You’d spent years disappearing and here you were, back in the thick of it because you turned down the wrong alley at the wrong time.

You glanced at the Mandalorian and tried to formulate an escape plan—or at least a way put some distance between you and him.

He surveyed the scene, seemingly calm in his blank mask of beskar, and began to walk towards the archway, as even more bounty hunters appeared. Not having come up with any better alternatives yet, you followed him.

The Mandalorian stopped short when Greef Karga sauntered out from the shadows to block your path forward through the archway.

“Welcome back, Mando!” Karga’s voice, the voice that had seemed jovial in the cantina weeks ago, sounded threatening as it rang through the street. “Now, put the package down.” He rested a hand on his hip, pushing back his cape to expose his blaster.

The bundle must be valuable. You wondered briefly what the Mandalorian had wrapped so carefully under his arm. A rare material like kyber? Something unstable like rhydonium? A set of holodisks with important intel?

The Mandalorian mirrored Karga’s movement, hovering his hand over his own blaster. “Step aside. I’m going to my ship,” he replied calmly. He sounded awfully certain considering the circumstances. Your eyes flicked back to the silver ship, an old Razor Crest, that sat just beyond the archway.

Karga chuckled. “You put the bounty down and perhaps I’ll let you pass.”

“The kid’s coming with me.”

KID?

“If you truly care about the kid, then you’ll put it on the speeder,” Karga said, pointing to a speeder parked in front of the building on your right, where a droid sat in the pilot’s seat. The droid let out a series of cheerful beeps, indicating its readiness.

“How do I know I can trust you?” asked the Mandalorian.

How did he know he could trust me? This guy seems to play fast and loose with trust.

Karga scoffed, “Because I’m your only hope.”

Shit.

Any second, this fight was going to turn into an every-person-for-themself situation. You and the Mandalorian had helped each other thus far because it had been convenient, but now that you were trapped, you knew this precarious alliance you’d formed out of necessity was about to fracture. You hadn’t missed the way he said I and me, not we and us. You weren’t part of his equation, and you couldn’t blame him—of course, you were also going to prioritize your own safety over that of a literal stranger.

You surveyed the street, looking for the least obstructed escape route. You hoped you could run fast enough once this tense moment passed and the fight started in earnest.

The Mandalorian stepped back into you suddenly, taking the opportunity to whisper urgently, “Jump in when I say go.”

You were stunned—so stunned that you followed him without thinking as he walked over to the speeder.

For the first time, the Mandalorian looked down at the bundle in his arms. You gasped when you saw that it was in fact a sleeping child—a tiny green infant. He took a moment to watch the baby before glancing at you briefly. He looked back down at the child and without any warning, he breathed, “NOW.”

You dove head first onto the speeder as he raised his blaster and shot a hunter who was right behind where you had just been standing. From the outside, you imagined that it looked like the two of you were partners—the way you moved together, coordinated and seamless.

You scrambled back and pushed crates out of the way, staying down on your stomach, as the Mandalorian flung himself over the side of the speeder and landed next to you. Blaster fire screeched all around you as the hunters reacted in unison.

You both stayed prone on the floor of the speeder, reaching only your blasters up to return the fire that was raining down on you. The Mandalorian rolled over to carefully place the kid down before yelling at the droid at the front of the speeder.

“DRIVE!”

When the droid shook its head in refusal, the Mandalorian demanded again, holding up his blaster threateningly. The droid acquiesced, and the speeder lurched forward. You grabbed the child and hugged them to your chest as the crates shifted around you.

You made it almost all the way to the archway—you and the Mandalorian taking out several of the bounty hunters as you went—before someone had the sense to shoot the pilot droid. The speeder crashed to a halt in a rain of sparks. Fire ceased and a tense quiet fell.

The Mandalorian edged toward you on his elbows. You could hear the bounty hunters closing in around you, the crunch of their boots ominous. You curled your body protectively over the child.

“Fuck,” you whispered. “What now?” You looked into the black t of his visor, wishing you could see his eyes.

He nodded as if that was a sufficient answer to your question and worked his way toward the edge of the speeder. Slowly, silently, he pulled his long rifle from his side and eased it between two crates, pointing it at a hunter on the roof of the closest building. You heard the sound of the rifle powering up and its screeching discharge as it vaporized the hunter. And then another. And another. The Mandalorian’s reload was lightening fast. You took the chance during the ensuing chaos to scoot to the edge of the speeder and take aim at a hunter with your blaster. The remaining hunters scurried away, taking shelter behind walls, doorways, whatever they could find.

The Mandalorian paused, and for a tense moment, nothing happened. The threat of the Amban Rifle was enough to create another temporary ceasefire.

“That’s one impressive weapon,” bellowed Karga. You couldn’t see him from where you lay.

“Here’s what we’re gonna do. We’re gonna walk to my ship with the kid, and you’re gonna let that happen,” the Mandalorian stated authoritatively.

We.

“No, how about this? We take the kid, and if you try and stop us, we kill you both and then strip your body for parts,” Karga spat back.

You could feel the hunters starting to come out of hiding all around you. The subtle rasp of tephra under foot gave them away again. You looked behind you and saw that one hooded hunter was edging closer to the speeder. The Mandalorian had his back to the hunter, as he faced Karga. You trained your blaster on the approaching hunter, ready to fire. Before you could pull the trigger, the Mandalorian kicked the canister at his feet, knocking the hunter over, and sat up to stun him with the rifle.

Apparently, he had been aware of the man the whole time. His peripheral vision must be largely obstructed in his helmet. How is he so acutely aware of everything around him?

Everyone opened fire once again.

Over the sound of blaster fire, you heard Karga yell, “Don’t hit the target!”

The Mandalorian rose to his knees, leaned over some crates, and activated his vambrace so a sudden burst of flames cleared out the hunters that were closest to the speeder. You took out two more with your blaster while they were distracted by the flames.

The Mandalorian grunted in frustration as the fire streaming from his wrist sputtered out. Then, he grunted and doubled over in pain when blaster fire hit him in the side, where he wasn’t protected by his armor.

He clutched his side and ducked back down to crawl his way over to you, gently pulling on your arm until you released the child, so he could look at their face. The child cooed and opened two huge, watery eyes.

You looked away, feeling like you were encroaching on a private moment.

Is this his kid? Who is after a child? What is the story here?

You leaned away and fired several more shots, injuring another hunter.

Then you heard it. A streaming projectile took out one of the hunters on a nearby roof. As the hunter screamed and fell to the ground, several figures in Mandalorian armor, powered by jetpacks with blasters in hand, rose up from behind the row of buildings lining the street. There had to be at least a dozen of them—maybe more. It was hard to tell in the chaos. They seemed to be everywhere. They took out hunter after hunter as they slowly lowered themselves to the ground and sparks rained down around you.

You both sat up to watch.

A particularly huge Mandalorian in blue armor with a large repeating blaster touched down next to the speeder and bellowed, “Get out of here! We’ll hold them off!”

“You’re going to have to relocate the covert,” responded the Mandalorian, raising his voice to be heard over the din.

“This is the way,” replied the huge blue Mandalorian, as he continued to fire at the bounty hunters.

“This is the way,” agreed the Mandalorian next to you.

In one fluid movement, he strapped his rifle to his back. You sheathed your blaster as he thrust the kid back into your arms, and he grabbed your free hand, hauling you to your feet as he stood. You jumped from the speeder together. He pulled you along behind him, continuing to shield your body with his as much as possible. The juxtaposition of the way he held your hand and how he was brutally taking out hunter after hunter with his blaster was jarring.

A blaster shot grazed your thigh as you ran, and you swore at the stinging pain, doubling over slightly without loosening your grip on the child. The Mandalorian turned his head but didn’t stop pulling you forward. You faltered for a moment but gritted your teeth and sped up to sprint behind him, leaving the chaos in your wake as you crossed under the archway. You made it the short distance to his ship, where the ramp was already lowered.

You followed him up the ramp. He shoved his blaster into the holster on his belt and started forward into the ship.

The idea of being trapped with this strange Mandalorian was absurd, but you didn’t have much of a choice. If you stayed on Nevarro, the remaining bounty hunters would tear the city apart to find you. This was the fastest way to get off world: a calculated risk.

You sensed movement behind you before you heard Karga’s voice.

“Hold it, Mando.”

You both spun around to face him. Karga had a blaster trained on you and the kid in your arms.

“I didn’t want it to come to this. But then you broke the code,” he spat.

The Mandalorian was silent as he assessed his options. Silent was clearly his default state. He was used to hiding behind the intimidating mask of his armor.

You were trying to guess how good Karga’s reflexes were and if you could grab your blaster from where you’d resheathed it at your back fast enough. As you thought it out, the Mandalorian tipped his head subtly to his left at what looked like a carbonite chamber. Before you or Karga could register his plan, he shot a metal cord from his vambrace, hitting the button to activate the chamber and filling the hull with freezing mist.

In the gloom, the Mandalorian grabbed you roughly and pushed you out of the way. Karga shot blindly. You whipped out your blaster and fired back, knowing exactly where he had been standing. You heard him grunt and fall backwards off the ship with a thud.

The Mandalorian made quick work of shutting the ramp, deactivating the hissing carbonite chamber, and initiating the takeoff protocol from a control panel on the wall.

You slumped onto a nearby crate, exhausted, as the ship lifted off the ground. You let your backpack slide off your shoulders onto the floor next to you. Still holding the baby to your chest protectively, you loosened your arms to study their sweet sleeping face.

His face? Her face? Who is this child?

Wordlessly, the Mandalorian stomped forward and snatched the kid from your arms. You looked up in surprise as he disappeared up the ladder next to you. He was gone for a few moments before the ship jolted as it left Nevarro’s atmosphere and jumped into hyperspace.

You rested your head on the cool wall behind you, trying to catch your breath. You let your eyelids slip shut for a minute—until you opened your eyes at the loud thud of the Mandalorian jumping back down into the hull, ignoring the ladder all together. He walked purposefully towards what looked like a storage bay, set the sleeping child down inside, and closed the door with a snap. He turned slowly to face you.

***

Chapter 2

#my writing #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x f!reader #mandalorian fanfic #mature #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x female reader #mandalorian reader insert #tempered glass

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helnjk · 3 years

Text

All I’ve Ever Known - G.W.

George Weasley x fem!reader

last of my oneshots for my showtunes fic list, based on the song All I’ve Ever Known from the musical Hadestown! i’ve had so much fun with this series of fics, i hope you guys have enjoyed reading them xx

Word Count: 2.8k

Summary: george finds her extremely intriguing, the way she spends her days drawing and creating art. maybe one day he’ll pluck up the courage to talk to her.

Warnings: mentions of food, mentions of bullying/exclusivity, stereotypical slytherin biases

lyrics are bold and italicized

–

I was alone so long

I didn’t even know that I was lonely

Y/N sat by herself at the end of the Slytherin table, pushing what was left of her meal around her plate. She could hear the different conversations flowing around her, the ones including her fellow housemates moreso, but as usual she wasn’t involved in any of them.

She could hear Malfoy sneering to his little crew about something or other that Potter did to irritate him that day. She could hear Adrian Pucey discussing the latest Quidditch plays they had used at training that day. She could hear a couple of first years anxiously discussing the topic of their exams the next day.

All around her were signs of companionship and community, yet she was left utterly alone. She wasn’t stupid. She knew why she had been outcasted from her house the moment she got sorted.

“Isn’t she muggleborn?”

“What a disgrace to Slytherin.”

“The Sorting Hat’s made a mistake with that one.”

Over the years, she had gotten used to how those in her house treated her–holding her at arm’s length. She had spent many nights in her first year crying herself to sleep because of how all-consuming the loneliness had been, but now at her seventh year, she was numb to it all.

She knew who she was: A talented muggleborn witch and a proud Slytherin. She didn’t need validation from anyone else. And anyways, most of her time was spent out on the grounds with her sketchpad or in the Room of Requirement painting.

Loud laughs from the Gryffindor table spurred her out of her thoughts. The Weasley twins had pranked their younger brother, and it seemed like their younger sister was an accomplice to the crime as well. The rest of the red and gold house was watching on amusedly, no doubt accustomed to similar situations.

The Weasleys were a well known family at Hogwarts. How could they not be? With their fiery red hair and their big personalities, it was a given that they caught the attention of almost every student.

Y/N admired how they just fit right in with their house, their second family. Of course, a lot of it had to do with the fact that they were so comfortable with the Hat’s placement. Their whole family was sorted into Gryffindor, she could remember, albeit slightly foggily, the older Weasley siblings in leadership roles when she was younger.

Her eyes lingered on George’s laughing figure for a second longer than the rest of them. She was always intrigued by the younger twin. They seldom had classes together, but from what she could gather, he was just as observant and perceptive as he was mischievous and quick witted.

As bodies began to take their leave from the Great Hall, a rough shove to the shoulder nearly made Y/N fall onto the floor. Her eyes snapped up to the offender and she saw the unbecoming sneer of Malfoy. Crabbe and Goyle were snickering not so quietly behind him as he stared down at her.

“Whoops,” he jeered, “Sorry to disrupt your staring at the blood traitors and gryffindorks. Maybe you’d be better off with the lot of them.”

With a huff, Y/N gathered her things and strode out of the hall without so much as a second look behind her.

It's like I’d known you all along

I knew you before we met

And I don’t even know you yet

All I know is you're someone I have always known

She was drawing again, George noted.

It always baffled him how she was always alone. Usually students at Hogwarts drifted about their days in groups or pairs; it was rare to see someone spend most of their time by themselves. Growing up with 6 siblings, and having a twin, George was so used to the chaos and noise that came with it that he couldn’t picture what it was like to go about your day solo.

His eyes drifted towards her figure sitting on a blanket out in the grounds. She was blissfully unaware of her surroundings, or more to the point, the person staring at her like a bloody idiot. The weather was slowly transitioning from autumn into winter, and he could tell that she was trying to milk the last few warm days.

It was no secret to him that she preferred to sketch out in the sunny grounds, but Hogwarts being situated in the Scottish countryside made it so that her window of opportunity to do so was limited.

He was so focused on how her brows furrowed in concentration and how her lips pursed ever so slightly when she made a mistake, that he didn’t notice Fred’s many deep sighs. This caused his twin to take one final deep breath and exhale as loudly as possible.

“What’s got your wand in a knot then?” George asked, taking his eyes off of Y/N and turning to face his brother.

“Finally noticed that I exist, have you?” teased Fred.

“Oi, just get on with whatever you want to say!”

He merely laughed, “If you want to talk to the snake, just do it!”

George had the audacity to act as if he didn’t know what Fred meant, “What in Merlin’s name are you on about?”

“Don’t be daft,” Fred smacked him lightly on the back of the head, “You’ve been pining after that Slytherin bird for months, just go and talk to her already!”

“Was I that obvious?”

With a frustrated groan, Fred shoved his twin in the direction of the girl. George stumbled for a second and checked to see if she had seen, she hadn’t. He sent a glare at the redhead over his shoulder, before dusting off his trousers and donning a confident facade.

As he strode across the courtyard, his hands grew increasingly clammy and his heart began to beat erratically in his chest. There was no turning back now, though, as he approached the girl.

His shadow blocked the sun from Y/N’s notebook and she looked up, not expecting anyone to get so close to her.

“Erm, hello,” George waved awkwardly as he towered over her figure.

She blinked a few times before replying, “Hello. Can I help you with something?”

“Mind if I join you?”

George’s question rang through the still air for a moment as Y/N processed what he had just asked. No one had ever wanted to keep her company as she drew before, she wasn’t quite sure how to react. Just before the moment turned even more awkward than it already was, she gave him a swift nod.

The tall, lanky redhead folded his legs beneath him as he made himself comfortable on the path of grass next to her. He had to stop himself from grinning too wide, “I’ve seen you around, you know.”

She merely raised a confused eyebrow in his direction.

“Not-not like I’ve been stalking you!” he stammered, rubbing the back of his neck and feeling his ears turn hot, “I’ve just noticed you like to draw out here, especially when the weather’s warm.”

“Oh,” she mumbled, brushing her hair behind her ear.

“I’m sorry, did I make you uncomfortable?”

George’s gaze on hers was so sincere, she kicked herself internally for not saying the right thing to him, “No you’re not! Don’t worry. I’m just not used to people paying much attention to what I do. I mean, I’m not that interesting.”

She felt small under his analytic gaze, but something in her kept her from looking away.

“Well I think you’re plenty interesting from what I’ve seen,” He shrugged nonchalantly, “Tell me about your drawings!”

He had said the magic words and the pair of them dove into a conversation. Y/N couldn’t contain her excitement, as she rarely had the opportunity to speak about something she was so passionate about.

“These look bloody brilliant,” George murmured in awe as he flipped through the pages of her notebook.

Y/N’s face warmed at the compliment, “Thanks.”

All I’ve ever known is how to hold my own

But now I wanna hold you too

For nearly every day after their first encounter, George made it a point to talk to Y/N. Whether it be along the hallways on the way to class, during meals (he would take her hand and drag her to the Gryffindor tables, much to her bemusement), or out on the grounds while she drew.

Most of the time, he would talk and talk and talk as she listened quietly. A soft smile would always grace her lips as she observed him and how he spoke so highly of his family and how he was so excited for the shop he would be opening with his brother. The tone of his voice and his large grins always made her feel included in whatever it was that he talked about.

“Hello love,” George smiled down at her before plopping down on the soft grass to her right, “Reckon we’re on the last few days of good weather.”

His eyes raised skywards as the overcast clouds floated above them, hers did the same.

“It’s alright,” she shrugged, sending him a small smile, “We’ve made the most of it, I think.”

The pair sat in relative silence, as silent as it could be with one of the Weasley twins, as Y/N built up the courage to show George what she had made for him. With a deep breath, she plucked something from her school bag that lay strewn across the grass and held the parchment to her chest.

“George?”

“Yeah, Y/N?” his eyes trained on her nervous figure and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “Everything alright?”

She nodded her head swiftly, “Yeah everything’s perfect! I just wanted to show you something that I made.”

Slowly, she smoothed out the parchment in front of them. She observed George quietly as he took in the sketch she had made. His eyes scanned it over once, twice, three times before they met hers again.

“Is this…” He mumbled, taking the sketch into his hands to look closer.

“You’ve just been so excited about your joke shop that I–I made a logo for you guys,” she smiled sheepishly, “It’s pretty bare bones, but I wanted you to see it. I won’t take offence if you don’t like it!”

George stared at her, mouth slightly agape. This was one of the sweetest things anyone had ever done for him, and she did it out of the kindness of her heart. Without a second thought, he threw his arms around her and quickly pulled her to his chest. Y/N let out a little ‘oof’ as she collided with him, heat spreading throughout her body. She was thankful that she was basically smushed on his chest, at least then he couldn’t tell how flustered she got at his display of affection.

“So d’you like it?” she asked shyly, looking up at him.

“I bloody love it!”

Y/N let out a breath that she didn’t know she was holding, the pair of them grinning at each other.

Later in the day, George all but dragged Y/N into the Gryffindor common room in search of Fred. His brother was sat on one of the couches by the fireplace, chatting idly with Lee. The sound of parchment hitting him square in the chest rang through the relatively empty room.

Fred’s hands immediately held onto whatever George had placed on him, and his eyes lit with joy as he realized what he was looking at.

“Bloody hell!” he exclaimed, “Is this what I think it is?”

George took a seat next to his brother, his hand tugging Y/N along to take the seat beside him, “Yep. Our Y/N here has made us a logo for Wheezes.”

“This is brilliant, Y/N! Thank you!”

For the second time that day, she found herself wrapped up in the arms of a Weasley twin. Slightly used to it, she just laughed the show of affection off and patted Fred slightly on the back.

“Happy to help,” she smiled.

–

As the seasons turned from autumn to winter, Y/N found herself spending more and more time with the red headed twins. She found their enthusiasm for their joke shop infectious, always chipping in with ideas of her own for products, or sketching up prototypes for them to look at.

Slowly, her days were filled with laughter and warmth.

It was a little jarring at first, spending so much time with people who actually cared about her, people who wanted to hear what she said and see what she created. It surprised her, really, how quickly she had become accustomed to being around them.

After a while, though, she found herself wanting to spend as much time as possible with George. She lived for the routine that they had formed, spending most of their breaks and meals together.

It struck her on a seemingly ordinary day, the realization that she was falling for him.

Y/N and George were at a far corner in the library, discussing how the product designs she made could be tweaked a little. He was hunched over the parchment, tracing his fingers over the soft lines of charcoal on the parchment, smudging it just a tad bit and getting some of the pigment on him.

“I love the way you drew…”

George had said something or other about the design, but Y/N couldn’t focus on anything except the way his arm flexed as he spoke. From the corner of her eye, she kept glancing at him, noticing how the glow of candlelight cast soft shadows on his face. The freckles on his cheeks seemed to dance in the flickering light, and looking at the constellations on his face made her breath hitch in her throat.

She couldn’t quite place why her heart was raging in her chest, as if she hadn’t spent most of her days with the red headed boy anyway.

And then it hit her.

Her eyebrows shot up at the sudden awareness of her feelings for George. Oh sweet Merlin and Morgana, she thought.

You take me in your arms

And suddenly there’s sunlight all around me

“George!”

Y/N’s voice rang through the relatively empty hallway as she raced to meet her friend. The friend that she might have been in love with. The friend that she spent hours and hours of her day with, trying to ignore the bubble of feelings that wanted so badly to burst in her chest.

The redhead who was on his way back up to his common room paused mid-step as he heard her voice. He spun on his heel, turning just in time for him to see her barreling towards him, waving a piece of parchment above her head.

When she nearly collided head on with him, he instinctively wrapped his arms around her waist and steadied her, “Woah there, Y/N. There’s no need to try and kill me.”

She huffed, catching her breath slightly, “Sorry, I’m just so excited!”

“Are you going to tell me what you’re excited about, or?” he teased, cocking his head to the side.

With a grin on her face, she shoved the piece of parchment she was holding into George’s hands, “I just figured out how the general design of the Wonder Witch products should look like! See here there’s a–”

“Godric I love you.”

Both bodies froze at the statement. George immediately felt his whole body get hot, no doubt tinging his cheeks and the tips of his ears red. Y/N’s mouth was slightly agape, her mind whirring with all kinds of thoughts as she tried to comprehend what had just come out of George’s mouth.

“What?” she asked, unable to form a proper sentence.

George took a deep breath, there was no going back now, “Erm, yeah. I fancy the hell out of you, Y/N. That wasn’t the way I would’ve preferred to tell you but, I do–I do love you, yeah.”

“Oh, Georgie,” Y/N whispered.

Taking her answer as a rejection, he nervously rubbed the back of his neck, “It’s alright that you don’t feel the same way, I don’t want this to ruin–”

Instead of replying, she threw her arms around his neck and pulled him in a hug, “I love you too, you silly boy.”

The nerves got the better of her, and her words were slightly muffled as she whispered them into his chest.

“Come again?”

“I love you too, George!”

A wide grin spread across his face as he looked at the girl in his arms. He felt like he could fly with how happy he was. Everything he needed was right in front of him, and he would hold her close for as long as he could.

–

General taglist: @expectoevans @george-fabian-weasley @gxthsanrio @slytherinscribbles @harpyloon @nuttytani @mesmerisedangel @amourtentiaa @hufflepuff5972

Weasley twins taglist: @whizboingies @pineapplesandpinas @papapapadumb @mrs-g-weasley @a-castle-of--glass @hey-there-angels

#kai's showtunes fics #george weasley #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley imagines #george weasley imagine #george weasley fics #george weasley fic #george weasley x reader #george weasley x y/n #tw food mention #tw bullying

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floresmarique · 3 years

Text

Ok y'all since i think you loved the first one shot i shared here, i'm gonna share another angsty one with you ♡

EX LOVERS (JOHNNY LAWRENCE X FEM!READER)

Plot; You and Johnny are ex lovers, yoi broke up with him because you couldn't stand the way he used his Karate Skills to hurt other people, but Johnny loves you too much to let you go...

WARNING: This one shot contains mentions of smut and violence.

Tags; angst, badass reader, jealous and possessive Johnny, violence and fluff at the end.

Enjoy!

Two months passed since (Y/N) and Johnny broke up.

They were the most powerful couple at their school and when the news of their break up started going viral, people were shocked about it. Everyone was sure that they would have married each other because they were always together and no one ever saw the leader of the Cobras so in love. Johnny first saw her one day in the school's courtyard, punching a guy in the face that was acting like a jerk with her and constantly squeezed her ass.

She was just Johnny's type; bold, badass, hot, smart and romantic without exaggerating.

After seeing that scene, the blonde boy couldn't stop thinking about her and asked her out without thinking about it twice. Johnny was flirty and a gentleman when he was around her. She was the only girl that ever saw that side of him because the others only saw his bad side.

But (Y/N) wasn't easy to conquer and, in fact, Johnny had to ask her to go on a date with him multiple times before she finally said yes. She was a very selective girl and liked to study the boys that asked her out, much to Johnny surprise, he was the only one that got the privilege to hang out with her. When she once saw him in the Cobra Kai dojo, her interest towards him raised even more. She was fascinated, also by the fact that a gentleman like him also practiced martial arts.

On their first date, Johnny first took her to a Karate lesson in the Cobra Kai dojo since she was curious to see the their practice. She found him quite hot with his gi on and with that determined expression on his perfect features. Johnny smirked in her direction many times, sending her winks that made her roll her eyes. All his group of friends knew that she was his girl and respected her like an equal, they for sure didn't want to mess with Johnny but envied him since they secretly thought that (Y/N) was beautiful.

They went on the beach soon after the end of the lesson and spent the night together, sharing their very first kiss there.

Since then, (Y/N) was officially Lawrence's girl. He made sure to mark his territory by giving her his Cobra Kai red leather jacket so that she could wear it at school. Everyone that saw her with his jacket, knew that it was better to not mess with her because it would have meant to mess with Johnny Lawrence too.

And Johnny swore to himself that he would have done anything to protect her and to keep her with him forever. He was sure that he would have lost his mind if (Y/N) decided to walk out from his life. Johnny never told her, but he always imagined a life and a family with her when they were dating. The things he felt with her were something he never experienced with any girl before and, even tho he never admitted it because of his ego, Johnny felt also protected by her.

Everytime she held him in her warm embrace, he felt safe. Johnny thought that she was the only good thing in his life, considering the troubled relationship he had with his father. She was the glue that kept him all together when he felt like falling and she was also the only person that saw him cry and knew his vulnerability. They both learned about each other's flaws and slowly accepted them, making their love grow even stronger.

They were the ying and the yang and needed each other to have a balance. (Y/N) always saved him from making bad decisions and, in fact while staying with her, Johnny always thought twice before doing something bad. Before her, he always tormented other boys with his Cobra Kai's friends, just for his own entertainment and fun but (Y/N) had a talk with him about that and since then, Johnny listened to her.

She was the only person that Johnny listened to, the only one he trusted and the first one he loved. He had various girls before (Y/N), including the well known Ali, that (Y/N) despised with all her heart even before she started dating Johnny, because she couldn't stand her bragging and her costant need for attention. (Y/N), unlike Johnny, wasn't the jealous type and knew her worth but Johnny was the opposite, always glaring at every guy that checked her out even from afar.

But that Halloween night changed everything.

When Daniel LaRusso first met (Y/N), he didn't know that she was the girlfriend of the Cobra Kai leader and when he saw her on the beach with some friends, the boy tried to talk to her. (Y/N), being the gentle and humble girl she was, smiled at him and had a little conversation with him. He told her he was new and she was just reassuring him about school when Johnny and his group arrived to the beach with their motorcycles. (Y/N) wasn't expecting to see him there since he had told her that he had to practice Karate a lot that day but the problem was the anger filling his blue eyes at the sight of his girl with that new kid.

"The hell are you doing with my girl, uh?" His voice was loud and rough, his fists clenched while he towered over Daniel's figure, that slightly flinched and backed off in a defensive way. (Y/N) grabbed Johnny's shoulder and softly spoke to him, but the blonde never left Daniel's face while she tried to explain to him that nothing was happening. His face was red for the anger and all his friends were behind him, watching the scene like they were at the cinema.

"Mate, i'm sorry, i didn't kno-"

"SHUT IT, PUNK!" Johnny yelled and kicked him straight in the stomach, making him fall on the sand. (Y/N) stood there feeling disappointed and then helped Daniel, that shoved her hand away while he rested his hand on his stomach.

"Don't fucking help him-" (Y/N) slapped him, hard. It was the first time she did something like that to him and Johnny stayed silent while he held his cheek, feeling his skin burn before rage took over him once again. "Why the fuck are you defending him, uh?"

"What is your problem? What the fuck is your problem, Johnny?" Despite being angry at him, her tone of voice was still calm.

"What is my problem? No, what is yours. I saw how close you were walking with that scumbag."

"Johnny we were talking, jesus, he wasn't even flirting with me!"

Johnny shook his head, not believing her. A flaw that (Y/N) learned to accept, was his incredible jealousy. She argued with him various times about it, saying that it was toxic in any relationship and she didn't want that. Johnny tried, he tried so hard to stop that unpleasant feeling in his chest and stomach, but he couldn't control it. He was scared to lose her because under all that cocky attitude, Johnny was insecure and knew that there was something wrong with him.

But he never told her that.

After the event on the beach, they both had a long talk and (Y/N) decided to not throw away the one year relationship with the boy she loved without giving him a second chance. They tried to forget about that and Johnny contained his jealousy towards Daniel, which (Y/N) was happy about. Daniel never talked to her again after the beach, probably afraid of Johnny, but that made the job of the blonde easier.

Until the Halloween party.

(Y/N) was dressed as Catwoman while Johnny and his friends were all dressed as skeletons. They were having a great night, so great that Johnny couldn't keep his hands off (Y/N). He hugged her from behind, whispering stuff in her ear that made (Y/N) giggle. Johnny was proud to have her on his side and liked to show her off despite his jealousy, because he knew he was lucky to have her.

"Johnny!" (Y/N) giggled. "Stop it, we are in public." But she didn't try to walk away when he spun her around so that he could give her a quick peck on the lips.

"You just look so hot dressed like this, baby..." He mumbled, caressing her shoulders covered by the tight leather suit. "I just need you."

"You are so clingy, Lawrence." (Y/N) chuckled, rolling her eyes. "But i must admit that i'd love to see what a skeleton can do..."

Johnny didn't need anymore words after those. They immediately ran in the boys bathroom, hand in hand while some giggles left (Y/N)'s mouth. Once they lost their virginity to each other, Johnny and (Y/N) started to experience a lot with their sexual life. It wasn't the first time they were leading to a bathroom to get carried away by their carnal insticts. The first time they did it in the school's bathroom, it was during the prom night. It was goofy and quite a funny experience, but still pleasant.

"God knows what i'd to you right now..." He mumbled in (Y/N)'s ear once they reached an empty cabin in the bathroom. She had her back against the wall while Johnny attacked her neck with needy kisses.

"Then show me..." She whispered in a seductive tone, making Johnny groan. He fumbled with the zip of her suit eagerly, knowing that he had to be quick. They, of course, preferred to take their time in bed but didn't want to give up on an exciting quickie in the bathroom.

And so they did it, between low moans and messy kisses in the tiny cabin. For Johnny having sex with her wasn't just a physical thing, it was mental. He knew that he would have never felt pleasure with another girl because the connection he had with (Y/N) was what made everything better for him. He loved to be inside of her and admired they way her eyes closed when the tip of his member slowly entered her hole, he loved to caress her flushed cheeks and to look at her deep in the eyes while doing so.

Johnny's level of passion was the same as his level of jealousy. (Y/N) adored how passionate he was, how he didn't only made love with her body but also with her mind. His ragged warm breath was like a melody for her and she loved the way his blue eyes never left her ones while pushing inside of her body. They touched each other's bodies with urgency, like it was the last time they would have made love.

And, sadly, it was.

"I love you so much..." Johnny breathed against her lips after they both reached their climax. (Y/N) instantly smiled and caressed his messy locks before giving him a sweet peck on the lips. She was sure she had some of his face paint on her mouth but she didn't care.

"I love you too, Johnny." She sweetly whispered. (Y/N) knew she had to get out of there quickly since it was the boys bathroom, so she opened the cabin and fixed her suit along with her hair and the smeared face paint on her chin. After she was done, she looked over at Johnny and noticed that he was already all fixed, rolling a joint while grinning at her."You're not coming?"

"Just give me 5 minutes, alright?"

"Okay, but careful with that...thing." She wasn't mad about him smoking, but she wasn't a fan of that either. However, Johnny only smoked joints during parties and not everyday, so she brushed that off. Once, he even tried to make her smoke one but she coughed at the first puff and completely gave up.

Johnny chuckled before nodding his head.

"Ok, mommy."

They shared one last loving glance before (Y/N) walked out of the bathroom, looking around to see if someone saw her getting out of the boys toilets. While walking in the big crowd, she noticed someone dressed as a literal box shower. She furrowed her brows before laughing, shaking her head.

"Hey, where's Johnny?" Dutch's voice made her turn around and the sight of the Cobra boys all dressed as skeletons was quite the show for her. "You sure do know where he is, am i right?"

Dutch knew where Johnny was. It wasn't something new, it happened almost at every party, but he still enjoyed to tease (Y/N) about their quickies.

"And i'm sure you know too, so why are you asking?" She smirked and took a drink, hearing the boys chuckle.

"You two fuck like horny rabbits, damn!" Dutch exclaimed, making his friends burst in a loud laugh.

"I think you're just jealous that he gets some pussy while you still don't." After her bitter remark, they all howled while Dutch scoffed and looked down, shaking his head.

"Okay, i gotta give you that one, high five?" He held his hand up, looking at (Y/N)'s eyes that were adorned by the black Catwoman's mask.

"High five!" She chuckled and slapped his hand with her one, taking a sip from her drink. They stayed there and chatted a bit, making jokes about the worst dressed people there. (Y/N) enyojed their company and was glad to have them as friends, thanks to Johnny. Minutes passed and she was still waiting for her boyfriend, till she heard loud shouts that she quickly recognized; Johnny.

She saw Daniel run as fast as he could before Johnny reached the spot where she and his friends were. His hair were completely wet and his face paint was melting thanks to the water.

"We need to get that fucking piece of shit!" He angrily stated and the boys didn't even hesitate, but (Y/N) wanted an explanation. She needed it and so she called his name before he could follow Daniel with the others.

But it was too late, because Johnny was full of rage.

The first thing that came up in (Y/N)'s mind was to follow him and she impulsively did. After getting out of the school, she noticed that a car incident happened and knew that it was because of them. She could kinda see them running from afar and followed their steps in the cold October weather, feeling her heart beat faster after every minute. She didn't want Johnny to do that again, she didn't want to fight with him or to see Daniel's beated up body laying on the ground.

She had to stop that.

She saw them stopping in a spot that she supposed was close to Daniel's home. The brunette boy tried to climb on the wire mesh but failed after getting surrounded by all the boys. Johnny grabbed Daniel from his collar, even under all the face paint (Y/N) could still see his expression full of anger.

"You had to push it, now you gotta pay!"

And that's when the first kick came.

(Y/N) walked closer to them with a ragged breath, her legs were weak after running so much and she reached for Johnny's body, trying to stop him. She called his name over and over again and cried while she saw Daniel getting completely destroyed by them. They acted like she wasn't there, till Bobby spoke.

"Johnny leave him now, he's had enough!"

"I'll decide when he's had enough!"

"No mercy!" Dutch exclaimed, keeping Daniel's weak body still.

"Johnny, please!" (Y/N) cried more and grabbed his arm, trying to move him away. Bobby finally noticed her and kept telling Johnny that he had to stop or else Daniel would have died.

And then the worst thing Johnny ever did happened; he punched (Y/N).

She fell on the ground, holding her bloody nose with her hand, her eyes were full of tears and he didn't even notice. He kept kicking Daniel in the stomach, (Y/N)'s sight was blurred for the tears but she felt like she would never forget Johnny's pleasant expression while hurting someone else, someone weaker than him.

That could be me. She thought to herself, crying while the warm blood touched her shaking lips. Bobby kneeled down, shocked about the fact that his dear friend punched his girl, the one he always tried to protect from everyone else and was now bleeding because of him.

"(Y/N)!" Bobby called her name, breathing heavily. "Are you okay?"

Before something else could happen, an old short man showed up and all (Y/N) could see was how he made all the boys, Johnny included, fall to the ground with moves she never saw before. Bobby tried to defend his friends but ended up on the ground with them with a painful groan. (Y/N) met the old man's gaze and he gave her almost a compassionate smile before taking Daniel's passed out body with him, away from that spot.

Before standing up, she saw Johnny opening his eyes slowly, but he soon regained energy when he finally realized what he did to her. (Y/N) quickly stood up and cleaned the blood with the sleeve of her suit, walking away with trembling legs.

"(Y/N)!" Johnny called out her name and tried to stand up, failing. "(Y/N), please, come back!"

But (Y/N)'s silhouette became more and more blurred out as she walked away from him.

And after that night, they broke up.

Johnny tried, he tried so hard to talk to her everytime he could but (Y/N) always avoided him, which then led him to knock on her door at 2:00 am on a cold night after a week from their break up. He was knocking on the door furiously with his fist, crying and shouting desperately at it, so hard that a vein was becoming more and more prominent on his neck.

"OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR (Y/N)!" He tugged at his own hair and at the skin of his face while kicking the door. He looked like he was out of his mind, but he knew it would have happened if she would have walked out of his life. The situation, however, was even worse because she left him for something he did. It was all his fault and it made him lose sleep and hunger, devoured by his own thoughts. "Please- baby, open the door-"

His fist was now only tapping slowly on the door, his body was collapsing while he rested his cheek against it, eyes squeezed shut and tears covered his cheeks. Johnny Lawrence wasn't the same anymore and even his friends noticed it, they couldn't handle him anymore. After (Y/N) left him, he became worst than before, venting all his negative emotions over other people, and one day it even happened on his best friend, Bobby

All the poor boy did was waving at (Y/N) when he saw her at school but Johnny was vulnerable, too vulnerable and out of his mind to brush off that little gesture. He beated Bobby up, infront of everyone at school, included his beloved (Y/N). His friends tried to stop him but Johnny was a beast, with a strenght that couldn't be appeased.

Johnny remained completely alone after that and when the school called his parents to tell them about Johnny's actions, he had an heated discussion with his father that Johnny ended with a punch in his dad's face, without even feeling guilty after.

"YOU FUCKING DESERVED IT!" Johnny yelled, his mother crying in the corner at the sight of her son that she didn't recognize anymore.

Johnny's life was falling apart and it was all his fault.

"I WISH I NEVER FUCKING MET YOU!" He breathed heavily against (Y/N)'s door, rage was building up inside of him again. He started knocking harshly on the door one more time till (Y/N)'s father opened it and immediately grabbed Johnny by the collar of his shirt. They were at the center of the entrance, the lights were all turned off and for a moment he inhaled the air of the house; it reminded him of her and of all the good times they had there, like the first night she made him meet her parents and had dinner together. The man that was looking down at him with gritted teeth and was holding him by his collar, was the same man that trusted him completely and wanted him to marry his daughter. Trust that Johnny broke when he saw his daughter with a bloody nose and with tears sliding down her face.

"STAY AWAY FROM MY DAUGTHER YOU PIECE OF SHIT!" (Y/N)'s father yelled in Johnny's face while his wife watched everything from afar with a sad expression. She liked Johnny too and, even though he made a big mistake, she still felt compassion for him but knew that he needed to stay away from (Y/N).

"(Y/N)!" Johnny called her desperately, not caring about her father's grip becoming tighter. He knew he could have easily punched the man in the face, but it was the father of the girl he loved with all his heart, he knew that she would have completely cancelled him from her life if he even tried to hit her father. "I just wanna talk to her- please!"

"SHE DOESN'T WANNA TALK TO YOU, WE DON'T WANT YOU HERE!" The father kept yelling "YOU BROKE OUR TRUST AND HER HEART, YOU'RE NOT WELCOMED HERE ANYMORE!"

And then he saw her.

Johnny saw his girl, standing barefoot with a light pink nightgown on the stairs. Her arms were crossed on her chest, her fingertips were caressing her elbows, almost like she was trying to comfort herself. Her hair were messy and her eyes watery but he still found her stunning. He always did. A small sincere smile formed on Johnny's mouth at the eye contact they had and he couldn't help but to cry.

"Tell him you want me, (Y/N), please tell him!" Johnny hoped to hear her say those words but nothing came out from her trembling mouth.

"Can't you see? She doesn't want you anymore. Now go away before i punch your stupid face, your karate shit won't save you."

"I'm not going anywhere-" Johnny stated "-not if she wants me here."

"STOP!" (Y/N) yelled, fully crying. "Will you just s-stop this?"

Her mom walked towards her, hugging her tightly to her chest while caressing her head to calm her down.

"(Y/N)..." Johnny's voice broke, his stomach turned at the sight of her crying like that. Her father glanced at her and loosened his grip on Johnny's shirt, pushing him away.

"Don't come here again." The man said, more calmly than before. "Or i will call the police."

The last thing Johnny saw before her father slammed the door shut, was the way (Y/N)'s wet eyes looked at him, with so much delusion and sadness that completely destroyed him since he was used to see her eyes full of joy and confidence.

He ruined everything.

And after two months of (Y/N) not wanting to hear from him ever again, Johnny decided to use a new card; jealousy.

He knew it would have been difficult with her since she wasn't the jealous type even when they were dating but he had to try everything to get her back. He would have tried even after 30 years, he didn't care, he just wanted her back.

It was a windy friday night of January when (Y/N) and her group of friends decided to spend the night in a new local in California. It had music and also some games inside, it was mostly filled by teenagers or very young adults. (Y/N) was sat at a table next to some of her friends while the others were dancing and she was enjoying a pizza, chatting with them.

"I really like this new place!" Her friend Mia said, stealing a slice of pizza from (Y/N)'s plate. She just chuckled and nodded her head, agreeing to her ftiend's affirmation. After she finished eating, (Y/N) stood up to walk towards the dance floor and started to sway her hips to the beat of 'Fresh'. Colorful lights covered her body and she laughed with her friends, commenting on some weird dance moves people made.

She wasn't having real fun like that since her and Johnny split up so she made sure to enjoy it, leaving her mind empty from the negative thoughts that reminded her of her blonde ex.

That was till she saw the subject of all her worries on the other side of the dance floor with a tall brunette, dressed with a short and skimpy blue dress. Johnny whispered something in her ear that made her giggle while he rested one hand on her hip, dancing to the song. He looked up just to meet the only eyes he always dreamed at night, staring at him with an emotionless expression.

Johnny felt disgusted at himself for even thinking someone like (Y/N) could be jealous of the girl he was dancing with. He looked at (Y/N)'s body and immediately inhaled at the sight of her black tight skirt hugging her perfect thighs so well. Her red lips were curved up in a sly smile while she kept dancing with her friends, still checking on him sometimes. He still felt warmth in his chest at the sight of her and lust filling his blue eyes but he had to work on his plan anyway so he got closer to the girl infront of him and grabbed her waist, moving his hips against her ones to the beat of the song. Her giggles made him want to scream but he was too determined to tell that girl to fuck off.

He needed to get his true girl back.

While dancing with the brunette, he kept his eyes on (Y/N)'s figure and his breath got caught in his throat when she slowly raised her arms to touch her hair seductively, making some boys turn their heads towards her. Johnny counted all the people that were eyeing her and his blood started to boil, especially because she wasn't his anymore.

Johnny perfectly knew what she was doing; she was acting like she didn't care, making him understand that she could never be jealous of the girl he was holding.

And it was working perfectly.

Johnny needed a reaction from her, he needed to see her snap, needed to see if she still cared. The blonde inhaled before cupping the girl's face in his hands, closing his eyes and kissing her harshly. The brunette didn't hesitate and even tried to deepen the kiss but Johnny didn't let her do that, he just wanted (Y/N) to see it, to notice it.

And she did, stopping her dance moves suddenly as she stared at the scene with flushed cheeks. She felt like everything around her disappeared, leaving the scene to his ex boyfriend kissing another girl after two months since their break up. Her nostrils were flaring and she felt a tickle in her eyes but didn't let not even a tear slide down her face because she didn't want to make him win. When her friends started to call her name, she snapped out of her thoughts.

"Hey, are you okay? It looks like you've seen a gho-" Mia started but stopped when she noticed Johnny on the other side of the dance floor, snogging another girl. "That's even worse than a ghost."

"I need some fresh air." (Y/N) simply said, her tone was cold.

"(Y/N), he's not worth-"

"Who said it's because of him?"

Before her friends could say something else, she walked towards their table and reached for her coat, putting it on quickly. Once she did, she finally went out of the local and immediately felt wind brush her heated cheeks, her hands were drowned in the large pockets of her black coat while she slowly walked on the sidewalk.

As soon as Johnny saw (Y/N) walking out of the place, he grinned and pushed away the girl that pouted and tried to grab his wrist but Johnny completely ignored her.

"I don't even know your name!" She screamed, crossing her arms to her chest.

"You will not need it!" He shouted back but, before he could reach the handle of the door to follow (Y/N), her friends stopped him.

"What the hell do you think you're doing." One of them said and Johnny couldn't even remember all of their names. When him and (Y/N) were dating, both the Cobras and the girls started to hang out together but Johnny didn't really care about them, (Y/N) was his only concern.

"Seriously, Lawrence, leave her alone." Mia added, making Johnny roll his eyes.

"I think your friend is old enough to take her own decisions so your words are pretty irrelevant if you wanna know my opinion."

And just like that he left the local, seeing the angry faces of (Y/N)'s friends watching him through the glass window. He also saw (Y/N) walking infront of him, her back was turned but her scent and her beautiful locks of hair flying in the wind were the only things Johnny needed to know it was her.

"(Y/N)!" He called out and she stopped in her tracks before shaking her head and walking faster but Johnny, thanks to his long legs, was faster than her and quickly reached her side. Cold smoke was coming out from their mouths while (Y/N) kept ignoring him, looking forward. "Even if you ignore me i still exist, you know that, right?"

"That's the main problem." She sternly said, making Johnny chuckle. Her sassy and defensive attitude reminded him of the first time he asked her out.

"Can you just listen to me?" Johnny deeply sighed, admiring her beautiful features under the streets lamps.

"And why would i?" She scoffed "You were making out with someone else 10 minutes ago."

Johnny felt a little victorious after he realized his plan worked and she still cared about him but tried to contain his smirk.

"I did it just to get your attention." Johnny spoke and, when she tried to walk faster, he gripped both of her wrists and blocked her between him and the wall, holding up her wrists at the sides of her head. He noticed how she slightly flinched when he touched her and his heart broke at the realization that she was scared of him. He loosened the grip but still not enough to let her go. "You always avoided me, fuck- this was the only way!"

"A pureblood horse can't be jealous of a pony, Johnny."

Her comeback made Johnny smirk, he missed her savage remarks since they were also one of the thousands reasons why he loved her.

"I know." He nodded "You think i don't? No one compares to you."

They looked at each other's eyes and gulped, Johnny was already feeling his heart beat faster and his eyes get watery.

"But why did you leave the local then?" He asked, noticing how she tried to avoid eye contact with him. He obviously knew the answer but only wanted her to stop ignoring her feelings. "You still want me, (Y/N), and i-"

"I'm scared of you, Johnny!" Her voice broke while she stared at his eyes again, a single tear sliding down her cheek. "Seeing you do that- i thought that someday, the one getting beaten up like that would have been me."

The pain Johnny was feeling in his chest was even worse than the one he felt after (Y/N) left him. He couldn't bare with the feeling of her thinking he could hurt her, even if he did that by mistake.

"You're not serious- you can't be serious right now." Johnny refused to believe that, shaking his head from side to side. His eyes were full of tears and his palms were sweating. (Y/N) only looked down, nodding her head.

"I am serious." She coldly affirmed. "Can you leave my fucking wrists now?"

"Will you try to walk away?"

"Depends on you."

Johnny slowly left her wrists but still stood close to her, towering over her figure. She drowned her hands in her pockets again and looked at the boy, waiting for him so say something.

"It's funny that you think this of me when the first time i ever saw you, you fucking punched a guy in the face." Johnny scoffed, shaking his head and (Y/N) widened her eyes in disbelief.

"Are you really gonna use that card, Johnny?" She shook her head in disappointment, crossing her arms to her chest. "I punched that guy because he was harassing me and you know that. It's completely different, don't even try to compare the two things."

She was right and he knew that but he still couldn't believe that she thought those things about him.

"You fucking punched me Johnny, can-" She burst into tears while she spoke and Johnny did too, acknowledging all her worries and the reason she left his side.

"I'm so sorry, (Y/N), i'm so sorry-" His voice was shaking and he tried to caress her cheek but she moved her head away. "I'm so stupid, i just- i just felt so jealous towards that dumbass because the image of you and him on the beach never left my mind-"

He paused and sighed before speaking again.

"I know nothing happened but i'm scared, i'm scared to lose you forever because i know that something is wrong with me- but i lost you anyway thanks to all my sick thoughts. I was blinded by the rage of that same image repeating in my head, i didn't even realize it was you, i-"

Johnny completely fell apart, crying like he never did before. (Y/N)'s heart broke at the sight as she cried with him and looked down, biting her bottom lip to calm herself down.

Johnny raised his head and closed his eyes, inhaling some fresh air.

"I just-" He stared at her wet eyes when she looked up again after hearing his voice. "I just need you to put me back in my place when i'm about to do something wrong, need you to call me dumb everytime i make a stupid joke, need to feel your fingertips playing with my hair before falling asleep- i need you (Y/N), i need you in my life now and forever because i'm lost without you, all i see is a miserable future. I can't forget you, i will never do and the thought of you not being with me is gonna devour me for the rest of my life, i- i can't ever hurt you, fuck, i can't, i love you-"

"Johnny..." (Y/N) whispered, crying even more at his words. The blonde stopped talking when he heard her call him and stared at her for some seconds before he suddenly kissed her, holding her face in his big hands. (Y/N) kissed him back with the same desperation as she gripped his arms, tugging at his jacket. They both cried at the taste of their lips after so long and only separated their mouths to smile softly while looking into each other's eyes.

"I love you so much, baby, so much-" Johnny mumbled against her lips and caressed her smooth cheeks, placing a strand of hair behind her ear.

"I love you too..." (Y/N) sniffed and gave a little peck on his knuckles.

Johnny hugged her tightly to his chest, never wanting to let her go again. He felt happy at the sensation of her body between his arms and kissed the top of her head, his nostrils were full of her scent that he so much missed.

"Are you my girl again?" He asked, putting his hands on her shoulders.

"Yes." She nodded before jumping in his arms again, kissing his cold lips once more. Johnny surrounded her waist with his arms and lifted her from the ground without leaving her lips. Warmth expanded in his body while feeling her against him again and he mentally told himself to become better for her. Johnny felt lucky, exactly like he felt when she accepted to hang out with him the first time since she alway refused the other boys.

He swore to himself that he would have never lost her again while he spun her around on the sidewalk.

They were back, even stronger than before.

#johnny lawrence smut #johnny lawrence #one shot #cobra kai #karate kid #80s #billy zabka #angst #love #fluff #william zabka

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