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feanorianethicsdepartment · 3 years

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Alright, I read your recent post and need to know - what is your interpretation of Maglor’s relationship with the twins?

askjdhslkjag my biggest self-inflicted problem in this fandom is that my take on maglor, elrond, and elros' relationship is so intensely detailed and specific i am forever tormented by none of the fic i read ever quite getting it right (from my perspective; i’ve read plenty of fic that presents a good interpretation on their own terms, it’s just never mine.) it’s simultaneously way darker than the fluffy kidnap dads stuff and nowhere near as black-and-white awful as the anti-fëanorian crowd likes to paint it, it’s messy and complicated and surrounded by darkness, and yet there’s also a sincere connection within it which mostly serves to make all those complications worse. angry teenage elrond is angry for a great many reasons, and the circumstances around him being raised by kinslayers account for at least half of them. there’s lots of complexity here, and i don’t see it in fic nearly as often as i’d like

(warning: the post... feathers? i already have an internet friend called faeiri this could be awkward - anyway, the post she’s talking about includes the line ‘everyone is wrong about kidnap dads except me.’ this post follows on from that in being as much a commentary about why various popular interpretations of both how the kidnapdoption went and the way people subsequently characterise the twins just don’t work for me as it is a setting out of my own ideas. i’m not really interested in getting into discourse here, i’m just trying to get my thoughts down. i’ve read fic with these interpretations before that i’ve liked, even, don’t take this as a Condemnation, aight? also this turned out long as hell, so i’m putting it under a cut)

i can never buy entirely fluffy depictions of kidnap dads

which isn’t to say i don’t read them! sometimes all i want is something sweet, for these kids to get to be happy for once. it’s not like i think their time with the fëanorians was completely devoid of laughter

it’s just. the pet names, the special days out, the home-cooked meals, it can get so treacly it stops feeling like the characters they are in the situation they’re in and turns into Generic Found Family #272

it soaks out all the complexity - which is the thing i am here for - and acts like oh, these kids were never in any danger, they were perfectly happy being abducted by the people who murdered everyone they knew, there’s nothing possibly questionable about this relationship at all

and... yeah. that’s not the characters i know. that’s not the context i know they belong to

i just can’t forget the circumstances that led them to meet

rivers of blood, the air filled with screams, a town ablaze, a woman choosing to die. every interaction the three of them have is going to proceed from that nightmare

(sidenote: i tend to hold it was maglor that raised the twins, with maedhros looming ominously in the background not really getting involved. it’s mostly personal preference, i’ve been in and out of the fandom since before this kidnap dads thing blew up and when i joined that was a perfectly standard reading)

(also the cave thing was a dumb idea, old man, if only because it implies beleriand had streams safe enough for children to play in at that point. the way it separates the twins from the third kinslaying is also something i don’t particularly vibe with)

probably my least favourite angle i’ve seen on the situation (edged out only by ‘maglor was actively abusive towards the twins’ which no no no no no no no no NO) is the idea that maglor (and/or maedhros, append as necessary) took the twins specifically to raise them

like, i get where it’s coming from, but it makes maglor come off as really creepy

(i have read fics where it is indeed played off as really creepy, but that’s not a maglor i have any interest in reading about)

(’mags 100% bad’ is just as facile a take to me as ‘mags 100% good’)

even if you’re saying maglor took them in because they had no one left to take care of them - i highly doubt they were the only children the fëanorians orphaned at sirion. idk, it always makes maglor seem much less sympathetic than i think it’s meant to

i prefer to think of it as more... organic? something that evolved, not something that was preordained. them growing closer gradually, the twins finding an adult who might maybe be on their side, maglor becoming invested in them almost by accident

and then the twins are so comfortable with the second scariest monster in amon ereb they frequently sass him off and maglor’s gotten so used to not hurting them he’s not even thinking about it any more. no one’s quite sure how it happened, but they’ve made a Connection

‘wait aren’t they a murderous warlord of questionable mental stability and a pair of terrified small children who’ve lost everyone they ever knew? isn’t that kinda fucked up?’ yup! that’s the point! complexity!

another idea i don’t like is the idea that maglor was an objectively better parent to the twins than eärendil or elwing

other people have talked about this already, i won’t rehash the whole thing. i will say that while i don’t think elwing was a perfect parent - someone so young, in such a horrible situation, i wouldn’t blame her for screwing up - i do think she (and eärendil) did the best by them they possibly could

this is one of the few things they have in common with maglor

something i come across now and again is the idea that sure, elwing and eärendil weren’t abusive or horrible or anything, but they were a couple of basically-teenagers with so many other responsibilities, there was only so much they could do. maglor, on the other hand, is an experienced adult who could take much better care of the twins

and...

first off, it’s not like mags doesn’t have a job. he’s a warlord, he has a fortress to help run, military shit to handle, lots of other stuff that needs to get done to stop everyone from starving or getting eaten by orcs. i feel like sirion had enough of a government there was plenty of opportunity for elwing to take days off and play with her kids, but in the fëanorian camp nobody really has the time to chase after a couple of toddlers, least of all one of the last points on the command network. they just don’t have the people any more

(seriously, the twins getting a formal education with tutors and classes and shit is a weirdly specific pet peeve of mine. this is a band of renegades, not a royal household; if there’s anyone left with those kinds of skills they almost certainly have more important things to do)

more than that, though - well, a quick glance through my late stage fëanorians tag should tell you a lot about what i think maglor’s mental state is like at this point. he is so accustomed to violence death means nothing to him, he’s lost most of his capacity for genuinely positive emotion to an endless century of defeat and despair, he hates everything in the universe, especially himself, he’s only able to keep functioning through a truly astounding amount of denial, and he covers it all up with a layer of snark and feigned apathy, which he defends aggressively because he’s subconsciously realised that if it breaks he’ll have absolutely nothing left

(maedhros, for the record, is... i’d say more stable, but at a lower point. maglor may interact with the world mostly through cold stares and mocking laughter, but at least his mind is firmly rooted in the present)

(on the other hand, at least maedhros lets himself be aware of what they are and where their road will lead)

which... this doesn’t mean maglor doesn’t try to be kind to the twins, or rein in his worst impulses around them

there’s just so little of him left but the weapon

he stalks through the halls like a portent of death and gets into hours-long screaming matches with maedhros and has definitely killed people in front of the twins

not even as, like, a deliberate attempt to scare them, but because when you solve most of your problems by stabbing them it’s pretty much a given that people who spend a lot of time around you are going to see you do it at least once

and sometimes, he curls up in an empty hallway, and weeps

... suffice it to say i don’t think elwing’s the more preoccupied, or the less mentally ill, parent here

just. in general, the fëanorians aren’t cackling boogeymen, but they’re not particularly nice either

no one has the energy left for that. not these isolated and weary soldiers at the end of a long losing war and the beginning of the end of the world. they don’t really bother to guard the kids against them escaping. where else are they going to go?

the sheer despair that must have been in the fëanorian camp after sirion, the knowledge that the cause cannot be fulfilled, that they are utterly forsaken, that they’re really just waiting to die -

it can’t have been a happy place to grow up in, under the shadow of loss and grief and deeds unrepentable, and the slow march of inevitable defeat

they would have had a better childhood if they stayed in sirion, raised by people who knew how to hope

but that isn’t the childhood they had. and despite everything i’ve said, i don’t think that childhood was an entirely awful one

yeah, see, this is where the other side of my self-inflicted fandom catch-22 comes in. just as much of the pro-kidnap dads stuff comes off as overly saccharine and simplified to me, i find much of the anti-kidnap dads stuff equally simplistic in the opposite direction

the idea that maglor and the fëanorians never meant anything to elros and elrond, that they had no effect on the people they became at all, that it was just a horrible thing that happened when they were children, easily thrown in the rear-view mirror...

that’s even more impossible to me than the idea that life with the fëanorians was 100% fluffy and nice

like, i’ve seen the take that elros and elrond hated the fëanorians from start to finish. they were perfect little sindarin princes, loyal to their people and the memory of doriath, spurning every scrap of kindness offered to them and knowing just what to say to twist the knife into the kinslayers’ wounds

... dude. they were six. hell, given their peredhelness, mentally they could easily have been younger

what six year old has a firm grasp of their ethnic identity? what six year old is fully aware of their place in history? what six year old would understand the politics that led to their situation?

don’t get me wrong, i can see hatred in there. but something else that doesn’t get acknowledged alongside it often enough is the fear

some of the stuff i’ve read feels like it gives the kids too much power in the situation. they’re perfectly happy to talk back to and belittle the people who burned down their hometown and killed everyone they ever knew, like miniature adults who don’t feel threatened at all

and, like, six. i can see them going for insults as a defensive measure, but it is defensive. it’s covering up fear, not coming from secure disdain

(and a lot of those insults sound, again, like things an adult who’s already familiar with the fëanorians would say, not a scared child who’s lost almost everything. why would a six year old raised by sindar and gondolindrim know what the noldolantë is, let alone what it means to maglor?)

(... i’m just ranting about this one fic that’s been ruffling my feathers for five years straight now, aren’t i)

i mean, i write elrond as the world’s angriest teenager, who snipes at maglor pretty much constantly, but the thing about angry teenage elrond is that he’s angry teenage elrond

he’s spent long enough with the fëanorians he has a pretty secure position within the camp, and he knows that maglor won’t hurt him from a decade and change of maglor not, in fact, hurting him

but as a small and terrified child abducted by the monsters his mother had nightmares about? he fluctuated wildly between ‘randomly guessing at things to say that wouldn’t get him killed’ ‘screaming at maglor to go away in words rarely more complicated than that’ 'desperately trying not to do or say anything in the hopes of not being noticed’ and ‘hiding’

(and i don’t think the twins were never in any danger from the fëanorians, either. quite besides the point that before they started orbiting maglor nobody was really sure what to do with them... well, they wouldn’t be the first children of thingol’s line the minions took revenge on)

(fortunately for them, maglor did, in fact, take them under his wing. by this point even their own followers are shit scared of the last two sons of fëanor, nobody’s going to mess with their stuff and risk getting mauled. tactically, it was a pretty good decision for a couple of toddlers)

more to the point, i feel like a child that young, in a situation that horrible, wouldn’t reject any kindness they were offered, any soothing touch in a universe of terror

in a world full of big scary monsters, the best way to survive is to get the biggest scariest monster possible to protect you. that’s how elros rationalises it when they’re, like, eight, mentally, but at the time they were just latching on to the only person around them who seemed to care about them

that’s how it started, on their end. two very young very scared children lost in a neverending nightmare clinging tightly to the lone outstretched pair of hands

as for maglor...

i’ve called mags evil before, but i see that as more of a... technical term? he is evil because he did the murder, he remains evil because he won’t stop doing the murder. hot take: murder bad

but that doesn’t make him, like, a moustache-twirling saturday morning cartoon villain. he is deeply unhappy with the position he’s in and the person he’s become, and he’s always trying not to take that final step over the edge

it’s not that i can’t see a maglor who is abusive or manipulative or who sees the twins more as objects than people. it’s just that that characterisation is one i am profoundly uninterested in. i do occasionally read fic with it, but it never enters my own headcanons

horrible people can do good things!! kinslayers can do good things!! the fallen are capable of humanity!! people can do both good and evil things at the same time, because people are complicated!! maglor is not psychologically incapable of actually taking pity on these kids!!!!

it’s... again, complexity. the fëanorians straddle the line between black and white, which is a lot less sharp in the legendarium than it’s sometimes characterised as. it’s what draws me to their characters so much, why i have so many stupid headcanons about them. pretending they fall firmly on either side of the line is my real fandom pet peeve

and, like, this moment? this sincere connection between a bloodstained warlord and two children who will grow up to be great and kind in equal measure? i may not entirely like the direction the fandom’s taken it recently, but that beat, that relationship, it still gets me

so no, i don’t think elrond and elros’ years with the fëanorians were an endless cavalcade of abuse and misery. i think there was love there, despite the darkness all around them

an old, tired monster, and the two tiny children it protects

maglor never hurts the twins, not ever, not once. his claws are sharp and his fangs are keen, if he so much as swatted them he’d rip them in half. instead he folds down the razor edges of his being, interacting with them ever so carefully. he has nightmares of suddenly tearing into their skin

seriously, the power differential between them is so great, maglor so much as raising his voice would break any trust they have in this horribly dangerous creature. fics where he does corporal punishment always get the side-eye from me

the mood of their relationship is... i find it hard to put into words. melancholy, maybe, like a sunny afternoon a few days before the end of the world. three people who’ve lost so much finding what respite they can in each other as the world slowly crumbles around them

there are times when it feels like the three of them exist in a world of their own, marked out by the edges of the firelight. maglor telling stories of the stars, elros giving relaxed irreverent commentary, elrond getting a few moments to just be, all their troubles kept at bay

they are the last two lights in a world sunk into darkness, the last two living beings he does not on some level hate. he will tear his own heart out before he sees them in pain

he teaches them to ride, he teaches them to read, he gives them everything he still has left. the twins should never have been in this situation, maglor probably isn’t entirely fit to take care of them, but it is what it is, and they take what love they can

(maglor depends on the twins emotionally a bit more than any adult should rely on any child. he’s still very much the caretaker in their relationship, but that relationship is the only one he has left that’s not stained by a century of rage and grief. he’s obsessed with them, maedhros tells him frequently. maglor’s standard response to this is to try to gouge maedhros’ eyes out)

(that particular darker side to their relationship, where maglor’s attachment to the twins turns into a desperate possessiveness - that’s not something i think i’ve ever seen in fic. which is a shame, it feels much closer to my own characterisation than the standard ways this relationship gets maleficised. darker, in a different way than usual. horribly compelling in its plausibility)

however you want to read it, i don’t think you can deny this is a relationship that defines elrond and elros’ childhood. they were raised in the woods by a pack of kinslayers, the text is quite clear on this

but i’ve seen a lot of talk about how elros and elrond are only sirion’s children. they are completely 100% sindarin, they love and forgive eärendil and elwing thoroughly and without question, they identify with doriath over - even gondolin, let alone tirion. the fëanorians - the people who raised them - had zero effect on the people they grew into and the selves they created

and that, more than anything else, i find utterly unbelievable

look, i get what this is a reaction to. a lot of the kidnap dads stuff paints the fëanorians as elrond and elros’ ‘real’ family, and i’ve already talked about what i think of the idea that maglor-and-possibly-also-maedhros were better parents than eärendil and elwing. i think it’s reductive and overly optimistic and just a little too neat

but to say instead that elrond and elros held no great love in their hearts for maglor, no lingering affinity with the fëanorians, no influence on their identity from the people they grew up around, none at all? that after it happened they just left it behind and resumed being the same people they were in sirion?

that strikes me as just as much an oversimplification. it sands down all the potential rough edges of their identity, all that inconvenient complexity that stops them from fitting into any well-defined box, and replaces it with a nice safe simple self-conception i find just as flat and boring as declaring them 100% fëanorian

we can quibble over who they call ‘father’ (i personally find that whole debate kinda petty) but denying that it was actually maglor who was the closest thing they knew to a parent for most of their childhoods, and that that would, in fact, affect the way they thought of themselves and their family, elides so many interesting possibilities out of existence

(i’m not even going to get into the most braindead take i have ever heard on the subject, namely that because their time with the fëanorians was such a small fraction of elrond’s total lifespan it was like being kidnapped for two weeks as a toddler and had no greater significance than that. do you not understand what childhood is????)

like, i tend to think of elrond as a child as being very loudly not-a-fëanorian. elros is more willing to go with the flow - hey, if the creepy kinslayer wants kids, elros is happy to play into that in order to not be murdered - but elrond is very firm that he’s not happy to be here and he doesn’t belong with them

(this is after they get over their initial terror, of course, when they’ve realised they won’t be fed to the orcs for the tiniest slight. even so, elrond only really gets shirty about it around people he’s comfortable with, whose reactions he can reasonably guess at. naturally, the first person he does it to is maglor)

elros calls maglor their father exactly once, when they’re... maybe early preteens? this is because elrond hears him do it and immediately loses his shit. they have a dad, elrond says, in tears, and a mum, and any day now their real parents are going to come to pick them up and take them home

... right?

it gets harder to believe as the years roll on, as their memories of sirion fade, as they find their own places within the host, as maglor watches over them as they grow. elrond still mentally sets himself apart from the fëanorians, but it’s more of an effort every year. life in the fëanorian camp is the only one he’s ever really known. he can barely remember his mother’s voice

then the war of wrath starts, and the fëanorian host drifts closer to the army of valinor, and the twins come into contact with non-fëanorians for the first time in forever, and it becomes clear just how obviously fëanorian elrond is. he always insisted he wasn’t like the kinslayers at all, but he dresses like them, talks like them, fights like them

the myth cycles the edain tell are almost completely unfamiliar to him, he barely remembers the shape of the songs of lost doriath. even these sarcastic commentary and subversive reinterpretations he made of maglor’s stories - those were still maglor’s stories! he’s been trying to guess at the person he was meant to be, but it’s growing nightmarishly blatant how little elrond ever knew about him

instead, the people he was born to are as alien to him as the orcs of morgoth. he is a fëanorian, through and through

... yeah, elrond (and/or elros) having an absolutely massive identity crisis upon being reintroduced to his quote-unquote ‘true kin’ is another angle i’d love to see in fic that i don’t think i’ve ever come across. all those potential grey areas around who they are and who they’re supposed to be sound utterly fascinating, and i think it’s the complexity i hate to see elided over the most

i really, really doubt they could effortlessly slot back into being eärendil and elwing’s children. not when they’ve been surrounded by, lived alongside, been raised by the people who were supposed to enemies for most of their lives

they just don’t fit into that box any more. they can’t

speaking of eärendil and elwing, while i do agree that they both (especially elwing) get a lot more flak than they deserve, i don’t agree that therefore elrond and elros were never the slightest bit mad at them and fully forgave them for everything with no reservations

because, well, they were left behind. elwing had no other choice, but they were still left behind; it led to the world being saved, but they were still left behind. all the best intentions in the universe don’t erase the weeks and months and years of waiting, of a hope that grew thinner and frailer until it finally quietly broke

that’s a real hurt, and a real grievance. even if the twins rationally understand that their parents were making the best out of their terrible situation, you can’t logic away emotions like that. it’s perfectly possible for them to know they have no reason to resent eärendil or elwing, and yet still harbour that bitterness and pain

(i did write a thing once where elrond loudly rejects eärendil as his father in favour of maglor, but something i didn’t add in that i probably should have is that elrond later regretted doing that)

(not like, several centuries later, when he’d grown old and wise. two hours later, when he’d calmed down. but he was still legitimately angry at eärendil, because the one thing angry teenage elrond was not lacking in was reasons to be mad at the adults around him, and before he could figure out if he had anything less furious to say the hosts of the valar left middle-earth behind)

(it’s another element to the tragedy of the whole thing. in that particular story, which is mostly aiming for maximum pain, the only thing elrond’s birth parents know about their son for thousands of years is that he hates them)

(and he doesn’t, not really. you can’t hate someone you’ve never known)

not that i think they couldn’t ever make up with their parents! fics where elrond and his birth parents work past all the things that lie between them and form a functional familial bond despite it all give me life. i just don’t like the idea that there’s nothing difficult for them to work past

i don’t like the idea that elrond and elros would naturally, effortlessly identify with the mother they last saw when they were six and the people they only vaguely remember. i can see them doing it as a political move, i can see them going for it as a deliberate personal choice, but i can’t seeing it being immediate and automatic and easy

no matter how great a pair of heroes eärendil and elwing are, that doesn’t change the fact that to elrond and elros, they’re at most a few scattered memories and a collection of far-off stories. and so long as the twins stay in middle-earth, they’re never going to draw any closer

compared to the dynamic, multifaceted, personal, and deep bonds they have with the fëanorians - who, and i know i keep saying this but i think it gets tossed aside way more casually than it should, are the people who actually raised them, their birth parents must feel like a distant idea

and that’s why i can never buy interpretations of elrond as 100% sindarin, a pure son of doriath, with no messy grey areas or awkward jagged edges to his identity. given everything we know about his life, it seems almost cartoonishly simplistic

honestly it seems like a narrative a bunch of old doriathrin nobles trying to manouevre elrond into being high king of the sindar or something would propagate. it's neat and nice and tidy, something that’d be much more convenient for everyone if elrond did feel that way

but i just don’t see how he can. this narrative is easy and simple in a way real people never are, it ignores all the forces pulling him apart. elrond being uncomplicatedly sindarin with the life he lives and the people he's close to - that doesn’t make any sense to me

which isn’t to say i think he’s 100% noldorin, from either a gondolindrim or a fëanorian perspective. (i find it a little more believable, given, again, who he grew up around and who he hangs out with, but it’s still a bit too reductive for my tastes.) it’s also not to say i couldn’t believe an elrond who made an active choice to emphasise his sindarin heritage

it’s not how i think of him, but it works. i don’t have a problem with other people interpreting the complexities of the twins’ identities differently

i just have a problem with people acting like it doesn’t exist

in general i think there’s a lot untapped potential that gets left behind when you declare the twins, separately or together, as All One Thing

they’re descended from half the noble houses of beleriand, and they have deep personal ties to most of the rest. they belong to all of the free peoples even the dwarves, somehow, probably and i feel like that was kind of the old man’s point? so many peoples meet in them, to say they wholly belong to any one species is probably an oversimplification

they sit at a crossroads of potential identities, and rather than narrowing down their worldviews to one single path, they take the hard road and choose all of them. that’s what you need to do, if you want to change the world

and, to bring this back to my ostensible topic, in my estimation at least this mélange of possible selves does include them as fëanorians! it’s not overpowering, but it’s certainly there, and the adults they grow into long after they’ve left the host still bear influence from their childhood

nothing super obvious, nothing that wouldn’t stand out if you didn’t know what to look for, but there’s something almost incandescent in how fiercely elros reaches out for his dreams

there’s something almost defiant in elrond’s drive to be as kind as summer

as for who they publically claim as their family... honestly, it depends. while it’s usually more tactically prudent for elros to connect himself to his various human ancestors, on occasion he does find a use for his free in with the elf mafia, and elrond, code switcher par excellence, is famously the son of whoever is most politically convenient at the moment, which is rarely, but not never, maglor

(in the privacy of their own minds, well, eärendil and elwing may have been the parents elros was supposed to have, but maglor was the parent he actually had, and elros doesn’t particularly care to mope over what might have been. elrond, for his part, figures that after all the shit maglor has put him through, the least that bastard owes him is a father)

but honestly? i think before any of their mountain of identities, before thinking of themselves as sindarin or gondolindel or hadorian or haladin or fëanorian or anything, elrond and elros identify as themselves

they are peredhil, they are númenóreans, they are whoever they make themselves to be. that’s how elrond finally resolved his identity, figured out who he was and found something past the pain and the rage

he wasn’t doriathrin, or gondolindrin, or falathrin, or fëanorian, or whatever else. he was elrond, no more and no less

and that person, elrond, could be whatever he chose to be

... elros came to a similar conclusion, with much less sturm und drang that he’s willing to admit. being able to go ‘hey, i can’t possibly be biased towards any one of your cultures, because i’m descended from all of you and i was raised by murderelves’ makes it a lot easier to unite people around your personal banner, turns out

the stories other people tried to force on them shattered into pieces, and the peredhel twins were free to shape themselves into anything they could dream of

and as the new world struggles alive, these lost children of an Age of death begin to bloom into their full glorious selves -

i just. i love the poetry of that. despite every single shadow that hangs over their past, despite all the clashing notes pulling them apart, they harmonise it all into a greater, kinder theme, determined to make their world a better place in whatever way they can

they fail, of course, but so do all things. the inevitable march of entropy doesn’t diminish the long millennia they (and their descendants) held onto the light

and their growing up in the fëanorian host definitely had a huge effect on the noble lords they became. you can see it in elros’ loud ambition to create a land of happiness and hope, elrond’s quiet resolve to heal all the hurts inflicted by this marred reality

it wasn’t a perfect time by any means, but neither was it a nightmare. it was what it was, a desperate existence at the edge of a knife where, nevertheless, they were loved

even after years upon decades upon centuries have passed, it’s hard for the wise king and the honourable sage to separate out and identify all the conflicting emotions swirling around their childhood. they never knew eärendil or elwing, true, but they also never really knew maglor

not as equals, not as adults, not as people who could truly understand him. he disappeared into the fog of history, leaving only childhood memories of razor-sharp, gentle hands

it’s messy and it’s complicated and getting any real closure would be like shoving their way through a thornbush with bare hands even if elrond could find the shithead, and yet at the core of it all, there is light. not the brightest of lights, maybe, but an enduring one

that contrast, above all, that note of warmth amidst the shadows, is what fascinates me so much about their relationship. three screwed up people in a screwed up world, finding a little peace with each other

and the fact that somehow, it does have a good ending - the children grow up magnificent and compassionate and just, they become exemplars of all their peoples, lodestars of the new world born out of the ashes of the old - that makes it seem to me like this relationship must have contained some fragment of happiness

but, fuck, all the darkness that surrounds that love, all the tangled-up emotions its existence necessitates, all the prefabricated self-identities it can never slot into - nothing about it is simple, nothing about it is easy, and i find that utterly enthralling. especially how, despite everything, that flickering light never goes out

well, i don’t think it does, anyway. my take on this relationship is both complicated enough no one else ever quite gets it right and well-defined enough every single ‘error’ in other people’s interpretations sticks out like a kinslayer in rivendell

it is an entirely self-inflicted problem, i will admit. other people are allowed to interpret those complexities differently from me, and it’s entirely my own fault i lack the :waves hands around nebulously: to write my own hypothetical fic on the subject at a pace faster than glacial

still, though. i do wish there was more fic out there that engaged with these complexities. a lot of the common fandom interpretations of this relationship just sweep it all away

#ask #my terrible headcanons #elros #elrond #maglor #elwing #earendil #feanorians #niphredilien #yellow feathered faerie #putting your old url in the tags for archival purposes #post nyanyannya askbox clearout #ironically it turned out almost as long as the songfic that clogged up my askbox in the first place #and it is DONE #fuck this took forever to write #stayed up late just to get it out the door so i don't have to think about it any more #this is a long ramble and i'm pretty sure the end is just me repeating myself ad nausem sorry #i'll admit to a certain pro-feanorian bias in my interpretation #but i also don't want elros and elrond to just. live in a neverending horrorshow for decades #the silm's cruel enough we don't need that #narratively i feel like elrond being All Of The Elves is a good mirror for elros being All Of The Humans #but it didn't really fit the angle i was going for #bleck #let's see how many followers i lose for this

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lunaekalenda · 3 years

Note

Sooo, I saw someone else do this, and I really loved the idea. Since ur my fav writer👀 (*winkwink), I would absolutely die of happiness if you did an aot boys househusband headcannons. Idc which aot boys as long as Reiner is in it (fr tho he's the most househusband material 😩).

aaAAA i feel honored, thank you so much!! i hope you like it <3!!!! o(≧∇≦o)

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

❁ shingeki boys!

❁ eren, armin, reiner, jean, connie, levi, porco, niccolo

❁ little implied mentions of sexual themes

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

eren:

- he tries his best, don’t judge him.

- if you’re out for more than a week, he’ll die of hunger.

- “honey how am i supposed to cook pasta?”

- “just put it in boiled water.”

- it wasn’t that difficult, but he left it in water for too much time while playing some video games and it is now a mass.

- he stays by your side while you cook, watching it cautiously, but he ends having you against the kitchen island.

- “Eren, i’m cooking, please.”

- his mouth bitting your ear playfully.

- “i’ll be satisfied just with you, no need of food.”

- usually he orders a pizza after that because the food ended being a mess.

- “Eren Jaeger, the next time you distract me from cooking...”

- but, he cleans really well.

- he’s really constant and he keeps doing it until it shines.

- he usually cleans while you work, and he leaves the automatic vacuum working before leaving for his work,

- but, once he puts his headphones on and connects online with his friends...

- his desk is a huge mess, full of energetic drinks’ cans and empty packs of snacks. he cleans it once he’s finished playing, but sometimes he forgets,

- he’s waiting for you on the couch when you arrive late, dressed with his shorts and with his hair tied in a man-bun.

- “i was waiting for you, i missed you so much today...”

armin:

- he’s really clean because he doesn’t mess or mess up things, so you can have the house organized.

- he only makes a mess when he's studying for important exams.

- a lot of books on his desk and around his chair. A lot of papers with appointments.

- "just leave this, i promise i’ll clean it once my exam is done!"

- he cleans it, unless he arrives really tired from the exam, then he goes to sleep automatically.

- when he's alone, he cleans the pets' houses and gets rid of their furr

- also takes naps with his cat while waiting for you.

- he’s really good at ironing, he’s really fast at it.

- his shirts are always impeccable.

- he’s also trying to learn how to cook.

- trying.

- “i made breakfast but i think i burned the pancakes”

reiner:

- he's a huge man and he seems clumsy, but no

- he's incredibly good at tasks.

- he wakes up early, even earlier than you, to prepare you a bath and breakfast for you two.

- “Rein, you don’t have to do this, you can sleep until your work hour”

- his work has night turns, but he shakes his head and keeps doing it for you.

- when you try to wake up early to do the same for him, he’s already awake, pulling you closer to him again.

- “why were you up so early.” he says , his sleepy voice caressing your ears when he speaks.

- he’s also really clean, and it is not new, Bertholdt says he was like that when they shared a flat.

- his breakfasts are the best of the world: strawberry smoothies and fruits salad with fluffy pancakes.

- when he has free day, he likes to buy little things that remind you to him when he walks with the dog.

- “I bought you this chocolate lip balm because you said your lips are getting hurt because of the cold.”

- he also loves kids so much. he wants to have a family.

- “just imagine a little girl waking us up at morning to accompany her to school.”

jean:

- he's so clingy he would do tasks just to be next to you.

- like, doing the laundry in the washing machine room, so small for two people, and be really near to you...

- and at the same time, he wants to show you he deserves to be your husband.

- he works a lot just to show you he can be your husband and the daddy of your children.

- "look babe, try my spaghetti"

- they were actually good, if he cooked a little bit more he will master it for sure.

- "imagine if we make here a garden with a couple swings for our babies?"

- he started working o a cute garden for you two spend the summer days out.

- he put white roses and pink dahlias, and a table with a couple chairs.

- he also put some lights for the night, to power them on and be a even more incredible garden.

- he also proposed to you under this lights.

connie:

- he lazy

- he just wants to watch tv, eat and sleep.

- but, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t do tasks.

- not a lot of them, but he does.

- like he does, but not all of them.

- “i don’t know how to use the washing machine.”

- “then mop the floor.”

- “but that’s so boring, baby please...”

- when he goes to the supermarket, he buys cups of instant ramen and sodas.

- “Connie we need real food to survive. We can’t eat everyday instant ramen and cola.”

- “but you look the color of the lettuce and i don’t know why, so imagine i take a poisoned lettuce because i didn’t analyze the color and we both die”

levi:

- he cleans the house in deep every two days.

- he also keeps it organized.

- actually the thought of having kids bewitches him but scares him, just thinking about all the toys in every part of the house.

- he’s a really clean man, and you also clean up the house while he works.

- he likes to spoil you with his acts, like preparing you bubble baths, helping you to sew your clothes and making you braids.

- fortunately, your bathtub is big enough for the two of you bathing together.

- he likes to caress your waist and torso quietly, just the sound of water and your quite breaths.

- his hands on you makes your skin feel electricity.

- he enjoys that moments of privacy and intimacy.

- also drying your hair when you’re about to go to sleep.

- "if you sleep with it wet you'll catch a cold, dummy"

porco:

- he usually avoided the chores, but when you moved with him, he started to pay more attention to what he had to do.

- he’s more fixed on the way your hands take his clothes than on the things he has to do to wash them.

- “i’m paying attention!!”

- his excuses are always that you're a distraction for him.

- "but you're so gorgeous... i need you. now."

- "porco it's the fifth time you say that today..."

- "and not the last."

- you can't say no because you're as needy for him as he is for you, but you try to hide it.

- at the end, he needs help for all the tasks.

niccolo:

- he cooks sooo well

- every time you arrive home, he’s cooking something.

- pizza, seafood, cakes...

- the house always smell so nice...

- you don’t know how to cook that well, but you help him cleaning all the things he uses for his plates.

- and you help him giving him what he needs.

- “could you pass me that knife, please?”

- his hands always touches yours when he takes the knife

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spencers-renaissance · 3 years

Text

This Gravitational Pull

Summary: Penelope Garcia sets her two best friends Derek & Spencer up on a blind first date. Even with the best intentions and highest expectations, no-one could've predicted it would go quite this well.

Tags: fluff, first date, au: diff first meeting, shy spencer, insecurity, anxiety, flirting, cuddling, protective derek, silly amounts of affection

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid

Word Count: 2.9k

Masterlist // Read on AO3

I started writing this and then realised that I'd set their date in a pub's beer garden? I googled it and apparently they are a thing in America so I kept it in. I don't know how common they are, but I hope it's all good and you can picture the setting just fine.

Spencer really wishes he hadn’t agreed to this blind date.

Not because he doesn’t trust Penelope — he does, he trusts her implicitly and entirely — but because it's a blisteringly hot day in late July and the heat compounded by his shaking nerves is making for a rather unpleasant sweating situation.

A bumblebee buzzes quietly around the table he’s sat at, briefly interested in the iced coffee he’s got his hands wrapped around, and Spencer watches it with a gentle sort of intrigue, able to briefly take his mind off the impending date. He knows that Supervisory Special Agent Derek Morgan is physically attractive, Penelope had made that more than clear with both her copious photos of him and the way she’s sung his praises since she started working at the FBI, but if anything, that just makes him more nervous. If Derek wasn’t his type, then he wouldn’t have as much to lose.

He runs a nervous hand through his hair as he heaves a small sigh. Worst case scenario, he can run home to his apartment, order Indian food, bury himself in the early edition of War and Peace he just won in an auction and forget that this date ever happened.

“Spencer? Spencer Reid?”

A surprisingly deep and sexy voice has him looking up from the watch face he’s been staring at perhaps a little too intensely, and he’s instantly taken aback by the Greek God standing in front of him. He’d known Derek was attractive, he'd seen pictures of him, but no camera could ever hope to do someone so beautiful any semblance of justice.

“Uh, y-yes, um, yeah. That’s me.” He shakes his head to try and recover his awkward word stumbling before discreetly wiping his sweaty palm on his trousers and standing up to shake Derek’s hand. “You’re Derek?”

“The one and only,” Derek says cheekily, shooting Spencer a grin that already has his stomach churning with a mix of excitement and crippling nerves. “Penelope told me you were gorgeous, but let me tell you, she really undersold it, pretty boy.”

His cheeks instantly flush red as he fights to maintain eye contact, blinking owlishly at the other man. Did he really just say that?

“I was going to say the same thing.”

Derek’s grin only widens. “Well, it looks like Penelope matched us well, then.”

This time Spencer allows himself to briefly duck his head as a baffling mix of pleasure and mortification swim around his chest. He puts it down to inexperience. Any other explanation will only compound his embarrassment.

“She did,” he agrees, smiling over at Derek and hoping desperately that he’s managing to stay cooler on the outside than he is on the inside. “Do you want something to drink?”

Derek nods. “I’ll go and order a beer at the bar. Do you want anything or are you okay with that coffee?”

“Oh no, I’m fine, thank you,” Spencer says, and mentally he praises himself for finally getting out a coherent sentence that doesn’t sound hopelessly mangled and flustered.

He watches Derek as he strides into the pub, looking as cool and confident as his looks and personality allow, and he realises that he really does just have a way about him. The bar is relatively crowded due to the blinding heat on a Saturday afternoon, but the bartender serves him instantly, all the girls eyeing him interestedly and the guys knocking his shoulder and joking about with him as though they’re all easy, long-time friends.

It’s nice, Spencer thinks, to be the focus of someone like that’s attention. Derek could have his pick of most people drinking here, but he only has eyes for Spencer as he comes back out, holding a tall pint and wearing a happy, focused expression as he sits back down.

“Do you not drink?” Derek asks curiously and without judgement, gesturing to his coffee.

“I go out with my friends sometimes,” Spencer says, blushing again, “but I’m a bit of a lightweight, and that’s not the best state of mind to be in on any first date, let alone a blind one.”

Derek chuckles warmly at that, and the sound is a pleasant rumble reminiscent of a distant thunderstorm. Spencer wants to melt into it.

“I think I’d like to see you all messy on a night out, pretty boy,” Derek says wryly, still grinning shamelessly, and Spencer gets the distinct impression that this ‘pretty boy’ business is going to be a Thing between them.

Spencer cocks his head and takes a sip of his coffee through the long metal straw. “Maybe you’ll have to join us some time.”

“Does that mean we’re going on another date?” Derek asks, but before Spencer can panic that he’s said the wrong thing, he’s smoothly continuing. “Because I’m more than down for that.”

“You are?”

“Pretty boy, you ever looked in the mirror?” Derek demands playfully. “Add that to this cute little nerdy bashful doctor thing you got going on and you’re the whole package. Of course I want another date with you, and we’ve barely even started this one.”

Spencer flushes bright pink at that, and decides to move the conversation on before he melts into a literal puddle in the middle of this beer garden. “So you know Penelope through work?”

Derek gets the hint. “I was part of the group that arrested her, actually,” he chuckles, “and I thought she was gonna be a nightmare to work with when we gave her the option of working for the FBI instead of going to prison. But then she showed up on her first day decked out from head to toe in pink and yellow, her hair dyed back to her natural blonde, and the way she smiled when I called her baby girl… well, it was smooth sailing from then on. Did you know her back in her Black Queen days?”

“I was her one phone call,” Spencer answers, his face splitting into an easy grin as they discuss his favourite person on planet earth. “I was terrified she was going to jail and I’d lose her forever, so I was over the moon when you guys offered her that deal. We went to get our hair done together the very next day.”

“Oh yeah? And what did Pretty Boy have done to his hair, hm?”

Spencer blushes. “Let’s just say she wasn’t the only one who had a rebellious phase?”

“Now that I have got to know more about.”

“Save it for date number two, SSA Morgan,” Spencer shoots back, relaxing into the easy banter between them.

“Alright, alright, baby, I can do that,” he says, winking again. Thankfully, Spencer manages not to do an embarrassing impression of a traffic light this time. “How did you and Penelope meet?”

“Back in college actually,” Spencer nods. “She was sort of going off the rails after her parents’ death, but I think finding a scared 12 year old in her Geography elective helped her rein it in a bit. We’ve been glued at the hip pretty much since we met. Even when I went to MIT for a bit to complete my Engineering PhD, she came with me. Since her job back then was mostly hacking and some supplemental side jobs, it didn’t really matter where she was based, she was just hellbent on protecting me like she has ever since that first Geography class.”

“Wow,” Derek says, looking genuinely shocked as he leans back a little bit, eyeing Spencer with curious eyes. “You went to college when you were twelve? I’m glad you had Penelope because that could’ve been a disaster.”

“It kind of was,” Spencer nods, laughing a little. “But it meant that I had five degrees including three doctorates by the time I was twenty-one so I wasn’t too mad about it.”

Derek stares at him consideringly, the soft smile on his face making Spencer’s stomach fill with butterflies. “You’re quite the genius aren’t you?”

“Well, I don't believe that intelligence can be accurately quantified, but I do have an IQ of 187, an eidetic memory, and can read 20,000 words per minute.”

Derek just stares at him.

“So, yeah, I guess I’m a genius?” he says bashfully.

Derek laughs, shaking his head. “Definitely a genius. I mean, Penelope told me you were clever, but this is like… insane. Are you sure you’re okay to go out with a mere mortal like me or should I see myself out?”

“Yeah actually, Derek, sorry, it’s not going to work out,” Spencer says, feigning seriousness. “I can’t be with anybody who’s not within twenty IQ points of me or doesn’t have at least two PhDs.”

“A good actor, too? What don’t you have going for you, pretty boy?” He laughs in that wild and free kind of way Spencer always wishes he could, and he wonders whether Derek could teach him how.

Derek watches him like there’s something special about Spencer as the sound of their laughter mingles, looks at him like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be but right here, right now, and the warm intensity of it has a buzz going in Spencer’s chest, a pleasant feeling he can’t imagine anything dousing, and he never wants Derek to take his eyes off him again. Not if this is how it’s always going to make him feel.

The hours of the afternoon fly by and all of a sudden the sun is setting and they’re feeling distinctly hungry.

“How do you feel about getting some street food and taking a wander down to the beach?” Derek suggests hopefully, and Spencer can’t help the wide grin that splits his cheeks at the idea.

“Let’s do it.”

The beach is slightly cooler than the garden now the sun is setting and a soft, salty breeze is floating in from the ocean, so they sit close together in the sand, sharing their servings of nachos and fries between them.

“What’s your family like?” Spencer asks, a little daringly after a couple of minutes of comfortable silence.

Derek smiles. “They’re amazing. It’s been just me, my mom, and my two sisters since I was ten years old, but I think losing my dad only brought us closer together, y’know? We had to learn from a young age how to rely on each other, and we were also taught the very valuable lesson of just how important family is and how nothing in life is guaranteed, so we’ve made every effort to be as close to one another as possible.”

Spencer watches with quiet admiration as Derek gushes about his family, and takes another bite of their nachos. “Do they live locally?”

“No, they’re all still back in Chicago,” Derek says. “It’s sad sometimes, being so far away from them, but they would have killed me if I’d stuck around back home just for them and hadn’t chased my dream of climbing the ladder of the FBI.”

Spencer nods, chuckling along with Derek as they stare out at the quiet, tumbling waves of the ocean.

“What about you?” Derek asks. “Are you close with your family?”

Shit. He hadn’t exactly considered that asking Derek about his family would lead to reverse questioning about his own. I mean, call him a genius all you want, but social interaction is not his area of expertise.

“Uh, it’s just me and my mom. She lives back in Vegas,” he explains, clearing his throat awkwardly as he hopes that’s enough to appease his date.

Truthfully, it probably would have been, but Derek doesn’t say anything immediately, and the silence feels like it’s choking him into admitting the truth, however much it makes his chest tighten and his stomach flip with anxiety. What if this is it? What if Derek doesn’t want to start something with someone who has a family history as fucked up as his? What if he reads between the lines and sees that Spencer could be just like his mom in the future, and thinks that starting a relationship is just too risky?

“She has paranoid schizophrenia,” he blurts out, the words rolling off his tongue without his express permission, and instead of shutting up, they just keep coming. “When my dad left when I was ten, I had to be her sole carer until I left for college at twelve, but even then she refused professional help and medication, so I was taking the train from Pasadena to Las Vegas every weekend to try and help her out, and it got messy a lot of the time. It was only when I turned eighteen that things got a little bit easier, and that was only because I betrayed her trust and had her sectioned into a Sanitorium.

“They’re amazing, they take really good care of her and I did my research obviously, but I think a part of her still resents me for doing that.”

He stares out at the ocean for a couple of seconds before he suddenly realises where he is and what he’s just done.

“Oh my god,” he says as horror and dread fill him from the bottom up, “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have just dumped all that on you, I’m sorry, just—”

“Hey, pretty boy,” Derek says gently, placing a reassuring hand on his back to get his attention. “It’s okay, don’t worry. I’m just happy you felt comfortable enough to tell me all of that, and besides, I asked the question, and I meant it. I wanted to know the answer.”

Spencer feels some of the panic recede a little, and he looks up at Derek to try and gauge whether he’s telling the truth. “Really?”

Derek’s expression only softens further. “Really.”

He relaxes a little further and leans into Derek’s side, smiling to himself when Derek wraps his arm fully around his waist, resting his head on top of Spencer’s.

“I feel like I’ve known you way longer than just four hours and fifty six minutes,” Spencer says eventually.

Derek chuckles, and this time Spencer can feel the low rumble against his cheek as well as hear it. “It might be the biggest cliche in the book, but I feel exactly the same, baby.”

“I think sharing street food on the beach while staring out at a sunset as romantic and beautiful as that one has cemented the cliches in this date enough already,” Spencer points out, laughing a little.

“That is very true,” Derek agrees, squeezing his hand against Spencer’s waist. “We could round all the cliches off with a kiss, if you’d like.”

Spencer sits upright, blushing again as he eyes Derek’s flirtatious but serious expression. “I’d like that a lot.”

Derek wastes no time in taking Spencer’s jaw in his hand and leaning in slowly to place a long, sensuous kiss to his lips. Spencer kisses back with as much control as is possible when your experience is next to none and you have one of the most beautiful men in the world turning your stomach inside out with his attention, but it seems to be enough for Derek because as soon as they pull away, he’s grinning widely.

“You’re quite the kisser, pretty boy.”

Spencer fights the blush but it comes anyway. “I like that.”

Derek’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. “The kiss?”

“No, the pet names.”

Derek’s expression smooths out and he smiles again, a little more tenderly than his usual cheeky grin. “Well, that’s good, because I have plenty more up my sleeve, sweetheart.”

Spencer flushes with pleasure this time and settles back against Derek’s side, observing the blue sea as they settle into silence once more.

“I’m not very used to all of this, by the way,” he says after a while, the sky slowly darkening.

“Used to what?”

“This. Kissing. Dating. Pet names.”

Derek looks down at Spencer to try and get a better look at his face. “Really? You could’ve fooled me.”

“I’ve only ever had one boyfriend before, and this is only the second date I’ve ever been on.”

“Any girlfriends?”

“Not really my area.”

“And this other date, was that with boyfriend number one?”

Spencer shakes his head against Derek’s shoulder. “No, I never went on a date with him. I met him in college and we were friends first, so we never really dated, just fell into a relationship.”

“Ah.” A brief silence settles over them again, but Derek doesn’t let it hang long. “You know I’m not bothered by any of that, right? You could have never dated anyone ever before or have screwed your way round half of California and DC and it wouldn’t matter a single bit. Not if you were here with me, right now.”

He laughs softly as Derek lightens the mood, and something in Spencer’s chest feels like it falls into place at that, like his last anxious reservation has been washed away and he can really move forward, forge onward with this scarily exciting endeavour.

“You’re a good man, Derek Morgan. You know that, right?”

Derek kisses the top of his head. “I do,” he says, “but I’m not sure it’s ever sounded quite as special falling from anyone else’s lips as it does falling from yours.”

Further down the beach, another wave crashes against the shore, and the colours of the sunset fade away slowly. People pack up their picnic baskets and head home, and seagulls attack their leftovers, but none of that matters, because right now, Spencer’s world is Derek Morgan.

Penelope Garcia deserves a medal.

(Yes, I've used that "yeah I guess I'm a genius" sequence in way too many fics, leave me ALONE. )

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @lesbiantodds @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @negativefouriq @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @livrere-blue @hotchseyebrows @enbyspencer @reidology @transhanniballecter @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @hotchedyke @tobias-hankel @marsjareau @oliverbrnch @im-autistic @anxious-enby @kuolonsyoja @reidreids @ropoto @thosecriminalminds @wifeyprentiss @cmily @love-pyramus @notevanbuckley @hotchscotchh (add yourself to my taglist here!)

#my writing #moreid #criminal minds #cm #derek morgan #spencer reid #derek morgan/spencer reid #spencer reid/derek morgan #derek morgan x spencer reid #spencer reid x derek morgan #moreid fic #moreid fanfic #moreid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #moreid fluff #protective derek morgan #shy spencer reid

136 notes · View notes

queenxxxsupreme · 3 years

Text

There Comes Bad News (dad!Arthur Morgan)

A/N: This belongs in my dad!Arthur Morgan AU so if you haven’t read any of those fics, it might be best to read those. You can find my masterlist here!

Warnings: anxiety attack, language

Word Count: 2.0k

Summary: John visits Lupine Valley Ranch to warn Arthur of an impending threat.

***

You moved around the kitchen, humming as your eyes glided over the window behind the kitchen sink. You spotted Daisy in the temporary corral with Piper. The corral had been placed in the front yard where you would have a clear sight to Daisy as she spent time with the foal. Though Arthur could watch her since he was outside tending to a few chores with Charles’ help, you liked to be able to see Daisy while you were inside.

“You reckon that filly will make it?”

You jumped, turning to look at Hosea. He stood at the edge of the kitchen with a coffee cup in hand.

“Christ, Hosea. You scared me.”

He chuckled.

“Piper seems to be gettin’ stronger.” You wiped your hands off on a rag. “And she’s not missing a meal, that’s for sure. So I suppose I’ve got some hope.”

“Just hate to see the little one with her heart broken.”

“I know.” You nodded in agreement.

“It’ll be a shame if I have to beat Arthur’s ass for getting her a lame horse.”

You smiled at him, knowing he was half teasing and half being honest.

The sound of Carson barking caught your attention. He was alerting the family to someone coming down the road that led to the house.

“Who could that be?” You thought out loud, moving towards the front windows.

“Is that Carson barking?” Hosea asked as he followed behind you. “He sounds angry.”

You spotted John getting down from his horse before it even came to a full stop just in front of the house. Behind him was a cloud of dirt and dust he must’ve kicked up on his way in.

“Something ain’t right. Why’s he in such a hurry?” Hosea headed for the front door. You were right behind him, going out on to the front porch.

Your eyes flickered over to your husband, who was crossing the yard with Charles to see what John was doing.

“What’s got you runnin’ like you’re bein’ chased, Marston?”

“I saw Micah in Blackwater yesterday.” John held on tightly to the leather reins. He appeared tense and nervous, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as his eyes flickered around as if he was taking count of everyone there. “Is Lucy here with you?”

“She’s home.” Charles shook his head. “Wasn’t feeling well this morning.”

“Wait a damn minute. You what?” Hosea rubbed his eyes.

“I saw that bastard. He was in Blackwater yesterday.”

You looked to Arthur, your stomach churning. His eyes very briefly met yours before he returned his gaze to John.

“I was runnin’ errands with Jack and Grace when I saw him. He was on a horse across from the bank with a couple other fellas.”

“How are you sure it was him?” Your voice was quiet as you spoke.

“Micah’s voice ain’t easy to forget.” John met your gaze.

“Did he see you?”

“Course not, Hosea. Got my kids outta there before he could see them.” John ran his hand along the shoulder of his horse. “I can’t stay for long. Gotta get back to Beecher’s. But I wanted to let y’all know he’s around.”

“Do you think he’s going to start looking for us?” Charles asked. Arthur shook his head, running a hand over his face. Even from across the yard, you could see the anger on his face.

“It’s hard to tell with Micah Bell.”

“At the very least, he’ll try to find Hosea.” Arthur spoke up, voice low and heavy with the weight of all the fears he’d carried for so long. “Hosea’s the only one who knows about where that Blackwater money is. The only other person who knew about it was Dutch and well….”

You looked down at your hands, taking a deep breath.

“Micah would do anything to find us. That includes goin’ to you, John.”

“I ain’t tellin’ him shit, Arthur.”

“I never said he’d ask nicely. Micah’s a sick bastard. He’ll go through Jack and Grace to get to you, to get to me and there’s no tellin’ what he’d do-,”

“Arthur.” You cut him off firmly. His eyes shot over to you. “Stop right now. There’s no sense filling John’s head with that. He doesn’t need to worry any more than he already does, I’m sure.”

Silence filled the air.

“Why don’t you bring Abigail and the kids up here, John?” Hosea suggested, moving to sit down on the front steps. “That way you all aren’t alone down there.”

“I couldn’t do that, Hosea.”

“Nonsense.” You shook your head, directing John’s attention to you. “We’ve got plenty of room. Daisy can stay in our room. That way you and Abigail can have your own room and Jack and Grace can have Daisy’s room.”

“I don’t want to crowd nobody. We aren’t a little family.”

“No, but you’re our family.” Arthur sighed. “It’s safer for you all to be up here with us and Charles and Lucy, John. You know that.”

John looked between you, Arthur, Hosea, and Charles for a few moments before nodding.

“I’ll talk it over with Abigail when I get home. Only problem would be Roxy and our livestock.”

“Roxy can come up with you. Carson gets along with her just fine.” You smiled.

“And if it’s just temporary, leave the livestock down there at Beecher’s. Me and you can go down every day or so to check on ‘em.” Arthur rubbed the back of his neck.

“Alright. I’ll see you guys soon.”

You waved goodbye to John and watched him disappear down the drive.

As he left, the weight in your stomach seemed to shift to your chest.

“Why don’t we take a little break, Charles?” Arthur told him, giving him a pat on the arm. Charles nodded and began to move towards the house.

“Maybe you and Uncle can share a room, Hosea.” Charles teased as he passed Hosea on the stairs.

“Bullshit. I’ll be sending Uncle over to your house. You and Lucy have too much room in that house of yours.”

Your eyes followed Arthur as he stopped at the bottom of the stairs. Your hands were folded at your waist, thumb rubbing against your skin as you bit the inside of your cheek.

“What?” He asked you.

“Why did you have to go put all those thoughts into John’s head?”

“I wasn’t tryin’ to scare him, Y/N. I was just tellin’ him the truth. Micah is relentless. He’ll stop at nothing to get what he wants. He’ll go through anyone and anything.”

“But you didn’t have to put thoughts into John’s head about what that bastard could do to his kids, Arthur.”

“Hey, sweetheart!” Hosea greeted Daisy loudly as she approached the porch from behind Arthur. She carried a handful of wildflowers in one hand. “Where’d you get those pretty flowers, Daisy?”

“From the yard!”

Arthur turned his attention to her, smiling as she offered him a portion of the bundle.

“Here.”

“Thank you, sweetpea.”

The next bundle went to Hosea. He began to tell her of the different kinds of flowers she had picked up, and she gladly absorbed the information like a sponge.

As you watched her, you couldn’t help but think of Micah. Arthur was right. The man would stop at nothing to get answers, to get what he wanted. It would be nothing for him to kill an entire family just to get the answers he was looking for.

The more your mind lingered on the possibilities, the more the thoughts spiraled. The weight on your chest worsened and you suddenly gasped for breath, unable to breathe. Tears sprung to your eyes and you turned away, not wanting to ruin Daisy’s moment with Hosea.

But everyone heard your gasp and saw you turn away so suddenly.

Arthur moved up the front steps, brows furrowing together slightly.

Daisy tried to move past him to get to you but Arthur caught ahold of the material of her shirt, quickly stopping her.

“Daddy-,”

“Just give me a minute, sweetpea.” He cut her off gently. “Go back to Papa or Uncle Charles, okay?”

“Is momma okay?”

“She’ll be just fine.” Arthur kissed the top of Daisy’s head before moving towards you.

Since Hosea was still sitting on the front step, Charles moved towards Daisy, holding his hands out for her.

“What’s wrong with her, Uncle Charles?” Daisy opened her arms for him to pick her up but her eyes remained on the back of your head.

“Mommy just needs a minute with daddy.” Charles explained. “What kind of flowers do you have there, Daisy?”

While Charles had Daisy somewhat distracted, Arthur was able to tend to you.

His hand found the small of your back.

“You okay, pumpkin?” His voice was quiet and gentle.

You couldn’t speak. You knew the words would become jumbled in your throat or come out all too quickly.

He kissed your shoulder.

“M’sorry if…. if what I was sayin’ scared you.”

“It’s not….” You shook your head. “Just…. Just me.”

“Is it him that’s got you this scared?”

You nodded, closing your eyes as you turned to face him. In the same instant, you were able to tuck your nose into the front of his neck.

“Pumpkin, you know I ain’t gonna let a damn thing happen to you or to Daisy. He’ll have to get through me to-,”

“Don’t.” You cut Arthur off, pulling away so that you could look him in the eyes. “Don’t you-Don’t you dare say that Arth-Arthur Morgan. I-I can’t lose you.”

He brushed the tears from your cheeks then pushed your hair back out of your eyes.

“I love you.”

You nodded and leaned forward to press your forehead against his lips. His hand rubbed up and down your back as you tried your best to take even breaths.

“Ain’t nothin’ gonna happen to either of you. I’ll keep you safe, pumpkin.”

Hosea stood up from the steps and began to make his way towards the front door. He looked to Charles and nodded for him to come inside.

“She can go. Y/N’s probably gonna want her near.”

Charles nodded and placed Daisy on her feet.

“Behave out here.”

Daisy giggled, curious eyes watching her uncle disappear into the house. Then she looked to her parents.

You lifted your head and sniffled. Arthur wiped your cheeks again.

“That’s enough thinkin’ about all the bad. We’re about to have a busy house.” He told you. “What kind of things do we need to get done before they get back here?”

You said nothing, unable to shift your thoughts to something else.

There was a tug on your skirt. You looked down to see Daisy looking up at you.

“You okay, momma?”

“Yes, love.” You nodded, moving to sit down in a chair on the porch. This allowed her to climb into your lap.

“Why are you crying?” She reached up with her free hand to wipe your tears away.

“Because…. Well, ‘cause I just have a lot on my mind right now.”

“What do you got there, sweetpea?” Arthur knelt down beside you. “Did you pick those flowers yourself?”

“Yeah! Papa said they are cornflowers, poppies, and daisies.”

“Daisies are momma’s favorites.” Arthur leaned in to whisper to her. “You think those might cheer her up?”

You smiled as Daisy handed you the bundle of flowers.

“Thank you, honey.” You leaned forward to kiss her forehead. “Those cornflowers look like daddy’s eyes, don’t they?”

Daisy looked from the flower to Arthur, then back to the flower, and finally back to Arthur. She giggled and nodded her head.

“They do.”

“Don’t you think daddy’s got pretty eyes?”

“He does!”

“You girls are gonna make me all red in the face.” Arthur muttered, a shy smile coming to his lips as he stood up. “Is your room all cleaned up, sweetpea? Uncle John’s coming up here and Grace’s is gonna need somewhere to sleep.”

“A sleepover?” Daisy excitedly jumped down from your lap.

“Only if your room is clean.”

“I’ll go check!”

Your eyes followed her as she ran into the house. Then your eyes flickered down to the flowers.

“We’re gonna be alright, Y/N.” Arthur held his hand out for you.

“I know. We always are. It just…. It never comes easy.”

Taglist: @winterwolf @lauramb7 @caraqas @bluscryn @krenee1drful @zodiacaldust @nonodino @gabstaroc @cal-lifornication @thefirelordm @sargeantsea @sokkasdarling @thecollection @mayday1284 @kashasenpai @misskrql @brooke-supernatural16 @micahs-bird

If your name is in italics, it wouldn’t let me tag you :(

#arthur morgan x reader #dad!arthur morgan x reader #dad!arthur morgan #dad!arthur morgan fic #arthur morgan #arthur morgan rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 fic #oneshot #queenxxxsupreme

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bloodfromthethorn · 3 years

Text

Sleep is the Best Cure

“Jack? What-” Mac blinked a few times, trying to clear his vision even as he automatically relaxed into his partner’s hold, trusting him to keep him up while he struggled his way back to the surface.

“Pretty sure you’re going on about 72 hours without sleep and you’ve had, what? Three? Separate traumatic situations in that time? Not much of a surprise you’re about to crash hard.”

Tag to 2x11 and 2x12. Also on AO3.

Mac’s eyes surveyed the wreck of his living room with a building sense of dread. The last few days felt like little more than a blur in his memory and he didn’t think he’d had a chance to pause for breath during any of it. Now that he had a moment to himself, he couldn’t help but worry that the world was about to come crashing down yet again, with him standing right in the middle of it.

Charlie’s attention had been drawn away by one of the team responsible for lifting the barrels out from beneath the floor, while all around them Phoenix personnel were cataloguing every item they could find just in case one of them might grant a clue as to the Ghost’s whereabouts. Mac considered moving to help them - or perhaps back Charlie up in what looked as though it might be descending into some kind of argument about proper procedure - but the instant he took a step to do so, sharp, blinding pain struck him right between the eyes like a lightning bolt.

It was there and gone in a flash, but it left him so startled he staggered back a step in surprise. A hand snatched at his arm before he could do more than sway, tugging him carefully against a supportive warm body. “Easy there bud.”

“Pretty sure you’re going on about 72 hours without sleep and you’ve had, what? Three? Separate traumatic situations in that time? Not much of a surprise you’re about to crash hard.”

“I’m- I’m okay.”

“Yeah man, ‘course you are. But maybe we should get you some sleep, yeah?”

Mac’s head still felt like it was floating some way above the rest of his body, foggy and distant, but he was still able to feel himself frown as the suggestion stuck a chime wrong somewhere. “Can’t,” he managed. “House is in clean up.”

“Matty’s got it covered,” Jack said, sure and steady. “And while she’s getting everything here sorted, you can crash at my place.”

That did admittedly sound amazing, but Mac forced himself to mumble a negative and reclaim some of his own weight, shaking his head in a vain attempt at clearing out the cobwebs taking root. “No, I need to help Charlie,” he said stubbornly.

The arm Jack had around his shoulders turned to steel, not letting him move away. “Charlie is doing just fine. He knows what he’s doing and he’s not the one dead on his feet right now. It’s okay man, it’s over. You can hand the reins over to someone else for a bit.”

With his vision steadily clearing, Mac could finally make out Jack’s worried face at his shoulder, watching him closely for any sign he was about to take another nosedive. Beyond the concern though, it was clear as day that Jack was starting to flag just as badly as Mac was, with pale skin and deepening crow’s feet emphasising the slight squint he’d picked up to combat the dryness of his eyes. “You’ve not slept either,” he pointed out unnecessarily.

Jack huffed something that might have been a laugh if he’d had the energy for it. “True enough, but I also wasn’t arrested and I haven’t spent the last twenty hours working on defusing two bombs simultaneously.” He gestured vaguely around the wreck of Mac’s living room with his free hand as though to encompass everything that had happened. “I’m good to drive us both back to mine and then I’m planning on passing out until at least tomorrow. That plan sound good with you?”

Honestly, now that Mac was aware of his own fatigue, the exhaustion felt like a physical weight on his body and the very thought of handing over his safety to Jack and drifting off for a couple of hours sounded like heaven, but he knew his job. Once an EOD tech, always an EOD tech, and there was still a lot of explosive material in his house that needed dealing with before anyone in a mile’s radius would be safe. He had work to do.

The sentiment must have shown on his face, because Jack went right back to frowning. “No, man, cut that out. Even if there wasn’t a perfectly capable bomb tech right over there, you’re in no state to be handling explosives. You’re shaking.”

Mac glanced at his own hands to confirm that yes, his whole body was indeed wracked by fine tremors that he couldn’t seem to stop. That… didn’t seem right. Since joining the army he’d had countless sleepless nights, both intentional and unavoidable, and while he knew he must be getting close to his limit of endurance, he was usually steady handed. Sort of an occupational requirement, really.

“Something’s wrong,” he murmured to himself, still looking at his trembling fingers.

With a heavy sigh, Jack tugged on him until he was pushed, unresisting, onto one of the bar stools and propped up by Jack’s warm palms on both of his shoulders. “What’s wrong is that you’ve been running on nothing but adrenaline and coffee for two whole days. Just ‘cause you’ve not been dodging bullets doesn’t mean you haven’t been going through the wringer. You’re exhausted. That’s all it is, bud, promise.”

Well, if Jack promised then Mac would believe him. Jack would never lie to him and he always seemed to know Mac’s hurts even before the man himself did. Something about it still didn’t sit right with him though. “Was dodging bullets,” he corrected, slightly petulantly, as he remembered handcuffs around his wrists and the desperation of trying to find a solution using nothing but a bullet and a ballpoint pen.

One of Jack’s hands drifted up his shoulder to cup the back of his head comfortingly in a move that Jack liked to use when he wanted to check Mac’s pulse without him knowing. “I’m okay,” he mumbled again in protest, but didn’t pull away.

“Yeah, I know you are. You’re pretty out of it though bud. Reckon you’re not going to remember this conversation tomorrow, huh?”

That was probably a fair assessment, honestly. With no witty retort lined up and thoroughly lacking the energy to search for one, Mac just hummed agreeably, blinking at him as his vision went wobbly again.

Jack sighed. “Okay, I’m calling it. I know you want to help out here, but you need rest and you’re not going to get it while there’s a Phoenix clean-up op happening in your living room. And since I’m not letting you out of my sight just yet, you’re coming home with me, yes? Good.”

He finally broke his attention off from Mac to cast a glance around the room at large and caught Matty’s eyes, gesturing to his semi-conscious partner with a small head tilt. “I’m taking this one home.” He didn’t leave any room in his tone for argument, but softened it by adding, “If you need us, call me.”

Thankfully, as much as Matty might be a hardass when her job needed her to be, she was also one of the most observant people Jack had ever met. Her eyes took them both in with a single look and recognised the exhaustion staring back at her. She nodded with a soft smile. “Take as long as you need. We’ve got this.”

He spared enough time to shoot her a deeply grateful look before his entire attention turned back to Mac, who appeared to have been trying unsuccessfully to use the brief pause to rally himself. Unfortunately for him, he was long since out of any reserves to draw off; the best his attempts got him was some slightly more aggressive blinking.

“Okay hoss, think you can stand up for me?” From the way Jack was having to keep him steady, it was obvious that Mac’s balance had completely gone to shit, but he obediently pushed himself upright and managed to at least keep his knees locked to take his weight. “Alright man, you’re doing great. Let’s get outside and get you sitting down again, yeah?”

Getting Mac outside and into the car turned out to be an exercise in extreme patience. Out of it as he was, he seemed to consistently forget where they were going and why, and made several attempts to turn himself around to go and help Charlie even though he could not more obviously be beyond that particular task. Each time Jack would nudge him back in the right direction with a soft push and a string of gentle words that seemed to more or less do the trick. By the time Mac was carefully folding himself into the passenger seat, the kid was scarcely still conscious.

“That’s right, you just sit there and let Jack get you home, yeah?”

That Mac didn’t even groan in protest at Jack referring to himself in third person said a lot for his mental state. Chuckling to himself, Jack rounded the car and nodded at Bozer who had appeared at the front door to see them off.

“I’ll get the house sorted as soon as I can,” he promised. “Make sure everything’s nice and clean when he gets back.”

“Appreciate that. But make sure you get some rest yourself, okay?” He said sternly, sending him a steady look. “Today’s been a long day for everyone, you included.”

“We’re good Jack. Matty will take good care of me and Riley. You just worry about Mac.”

Jack snorted, momentarily letting his bone-deep exhaustion show on his face. “As if I ever do anything else.”

Mac was thoroughly dead to the world when Jack slid into the driver’s seat beside him, his head tilted awkwardly against the window and his arms wrapped tight around his middle. It looked wildly uncomfortable, but the journey was only short and now that he was actually out for the count, Jack was loath to disturb him until he had to. Instead, he jammed his keys in the ignition and headed for home without another word.

Tired as he was, Jack drove more carefully than he was usually of a mind to and as a result ended up taking a full half-hour to make it to his apartment. Mac didn’t so much as stir the entire time. If it hadn’t been for his breath fogging against the glass of the window, Jack might have resorted to feeling for the pulse in his wrist just to be certain that he really was still there, still in one piece. After everything he’d been through in the last three days, the fact that the worst physical damage he would have to deal with would be a few scrapes and a hefty dose of exhaustion was something of a miracle - and Jack would still trade almost anything for the chance to go back and spare him of all of it. Mac had never deserved the shit that got thrown at him day in and day out, but it rarely came so thick and fast.

And physical condition aside, Jack knew that Mac wasn’t getting away from any of it without some new mental baggage.

But that was a problem for tomorrow, at the earliest. Right now all he had to worry about was getting 6 foot of mostly-catatonic secret agent up several flights of stairs, preferably without drawing any attention. Easy.

Mac did make a valiant attempt at consciousness after a few gentle shakes from Jack, but it was clear the window of opportunity for his ability to hold his own weight had closed some time ago. In the end, it was left to Jack to duck under his shoulder and do his best to balance them both as they hobbled unsteadily up the fire escape. The lobby would have granted them an elevator, but with them both on their last legs, Jack didn’t want the attention.

No doubt they must have looked comical - or perhaps just drunk - but they made it in the end, and without anyone falling down the stairs to boot. Jack was going to count that as a win.

“Mac, you still with me brother?”

There was a vaguely attentive hum. Mac’s eyes didn’t open.

“You happy to share the bed or are you gonna make me sleep on the couch?”

Another hum that Jack chose to take as ambivalence. In truth the question was somewhat redundant - the pair of them had shared far closer quarters than a king-sized bed before, and Mac would never turf Jack out of his own room, especially when he was just as desperately in need of rest. Asking was more of a formality than anything.

There was a second brief deliberation when Jack managed to get them both into the bedroom as he tried to weigh up the chances of him being able to bully Mac into changing into some borrowed sleepwear. In the end, he figured it wasn’t worth the hassle and just calmly battled him out of his jeans and his dust-covered henley before tipping him beneath the covers. With his consciousness waning once more, Mac offered little more than a sleepy grumble as he burrowed down beneath the blanket and went still once more.

With a weary chuckle of genuine relief, Jack ran through his own preparations as quickly as his tired body was capable of before finally, finally folding himself into the other side of the bed. After everything, the sensation was heavenly.

There was a long stretch of motionless silence, broken only by their steady breathing, and Jack felt the fiercely alert, wary section of his brain finally start to cede control to the comforting embrace of sleep. It was over; Mac was safe, the bomb was defused, no one was in prison, and Cage would be just fine after a bit of recovery time. Jack was free to let his guard down at long last.

It wasn’t an easy task. For the next five minutes he struggled with slipping into light dozes that broke off suddenly when his adrenaline spiked, bracing himself against some new danger. He knew that he needed the rest and for once it was legitimately safe to do so, but he had too many years of forcing his body through every possible hardship for it to give up the fight so easily.

Then, as he always managed to do, Mac provided the solution. After the fifth or so time Jack jolted awake, Mac let out a low, displeased huff and wriggled until he was able to reach out a hand and wrap long fingers around Jack’s wrist in a gentle reassurance of his presence. He didn’t even look as though he was awake as he did it - he’d just sensed that Jack needed his help, and had offered it without thought. Lost in his own exhaustion, Jack thought it was almost poetic.

Not that he would know, of course.

Safe at long last, and tangibly aware of Mac’s steady presence at his side, Jack finally let himself sleep.

#i'm sure there were a lot of fics exactly like this when those episodes came out #but im new #let me indulge #macgyver #mac #jack dalton #exhaustion #god i miss jack so much you guys #respect to eads' choices but the show is just not as good without him #still shouldnt have been cancelled though #fuck that

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snackhobi · 4 years

Text

prompt: “Is that my shirt you’re wearing?”

thank you to my darling @yeojaa for sending this in and thank you to my darling @hobi-gif for beta reading it for me, you are both such lovely stars in the night sky of my life xoxo

pairing: seokjin x reader / word count: 1.9k / genre: fluff (sfw/general) / warnings: none!

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single woman in possession of a hot roommate, must want to jump his bones.

Like. C’mon. Kim Seokjin is nothing if not easy on the eyes. It’s not enough that he has the body proportions of a god—broad shoulders, lovely thighs, everything in its place and perfectly in line with his height and his poise—he has a beautiful face, too. Those lips. That jaw. Those eyes. You don’t want to wax lyrical but it really is like God decided to take his time making Kim Seokjin and everyone else (like you) was just left with the dregs; the stuff that wasn’t good enough for Jin and was thrown aside.

The worst thing, though. The worst thing. The absolute worst thing about Kim Seokjin is that he is A Nice Person.

You’d barely known each other, only a month into your cohabitation when he’d come across you crying into a tub of ice cream in the kitchen, sobbing over the guy who’d finally grown bored of stringing you along with promises of eventually becoming your actual boyfriend and had just cut you off altogether after one final lay. You were utterly heartbroken and entirely mortified when you noticed Jin standing in the kitchen doorway as you clumsily tried to dig your spoon into the still-hard vanilla, but he’d just slid down onto the floor next to you with a spoon in one hand as the other came to rest on your shoulder. He’d listened to you snivel and sniffle, quietly eating the weirdly chemical-flavoured chocolate ice cream in the own-brand Neapolitan tub you favoured—your least favourite and the one you always left till last.

Once a guy’s seen you crying your eyes out on the kitchen floor in old pyjamas, and you’ve seen him eat five pots of super hot instant noodles on the trot and chase the whole thing down with an entire box of doughnuts, you sort of get to know each other as people—both things are revealing in different ways—and it’s hard for that to not lead to friendship.

You could have dealt with Jin if he was just hot. But he’s hot and nice and funny, utterly ridiculous; he doesn’t take himself seriously while also knowing how to rein himself in when necessary to not overwhelm people and basically you’ve been crushing on him in a major, major way for a while now.

And like. Seokjin is single, so technically you have a chance. But you also have absolutely no chance at all, because? Hello? Kim Seokjin? You? You? Kim Seokjin? He’s so far out of your league he may as well be in another galaxy. And he’s also probably the best roommate you’ve ever had (cleans up after himself, doesn’t microwave fish and stink up the place, likes the same TV shows as you so there are no arguments over the remote), so you’re not about to throw a wrench into the mix by doing something stupid like confessing that you like him.

“Right, I should be back around ten,” says Seokjin. He’s all dressed up for a noraebang night with his friends—well, not dressed up really, they’re just gonna get drunk while wailing songs at the top of their lungs in a small room so it’s not like he has to go all out, but Seokjin makes everything look good. “Are you sure you don’t want to come?”

Seokjin is nice and hot and funny and friendly. Honestly, he’s just a dreamboat of a roommate and a man, with great friends too. Normally you would have leaped at the chance to spend a night out with Seokjin and the other guys, but you’d spilled your drink on Yoongi last time and were still convinced that he was plotting your imminent demise. Even if Seokjin insists otherwise, you want to give Yoongi a wide berth for a little while longer in the hopes he’ll suddenly suffer a bout of amnesia and forget that you spilled a very boozy and sticky Oreo and Baileys cocktail(/glorified milkshake) on him and ruined his shoes.

“I’m good,” you say. “But make sure you don’t have any fun without me and you have to let everyone know that it’s because I’m not there.”

Jin laughs, a wet squeegee of a sound, and it goes straight to your heart. “I’ll pass on the message,” he promises, blowing you a tiny kiss as he goes.

(Ugh, he’s so cute. You hate him.) (No, you don’t.)

You seem to be setting a trend for yourself in the drink-spilling department, though. During an ad break you decide to get yourself a drink, and even though it’s just a Boys Over Flowers rerun that you’ve seen multiple times, you rush as you pour yourself a glass of orange juice—you don’t want to take too long and miss anything. Suffice to say you Fuck Up and end up with a shirt and trousers covered in juice and pulp and you miss a bunch of the episode as you clean it up, huffing dramatically to yourself the whole time, before scarpering towards your bedroom for some new clothes.

At least, that’s the plan. You pass by Seokjin’s open door and pause, taking in the sight of a few discarded bits of clothing on his bed and across the back of his chair, things he’d clearly decided weren’t worth wearing out tonight. The one that’s caught your eye is the vibrant pink shirt strewn over his duvet, one of your favourites, one you haven’t seen him wear in a while. It’s one of your favourites because he just looks so cosy in it—Jin ends up with a lot of oversized clothes so they can fit over his shoulders, but he practically swims in material when he wears this shirt, flapping the sleeves at you and then laughing at his own antics. He could wear it as a dress if he wanted to, probably.

… so could you, if you wanted to, probably.

… but you shouldn’t. Like, that’s weird. Jin is your roommate and even if he’s made it clear that he has an open door policy, going in through said open door to get a bit of his clothing is weird. Definitely creepy.

But… you’ve already kicked off your dirtied outfit and you’re just in your underwear so you can’t be blamed for being worried if you’re going to get cold, right? You’re just grabbing the closest bit of clothing, aren’t you?

… You’ll take it off before he gets back and put it in the laundry with everything else; he won’t notice. You’ll just take this awful awful secret to the grave and never tell anyone about your invasive actions.

Oh, man, the shirt smells so good. You share the same laundry detergent but Jin had clearly tried this on before discarding it, the scent of his cologne lingering in the air as you end up swamped in the shirt (/shirt dress), and you don’t regret this. Well, you do, but also you don’t. It’s like being wrapped up in Jin’s arms. Jin’s not shy about giving you hugs but there’s something altogether different about wearing someone’s clothes.

You end up curled up on the sofa as you watch more Boys Over Flowers, knees to your chest and revelling in how cosy and small Jin’s massive shirt makes you feel. You have to hitch the material up so that your hands peep out the ends of the sleeves. Sweater paws are cute on everyone, even yourself, and you giggle as you fumble for the remote so that you can check how many more episodes there are before it turns to something else. You can indulge yourself for a bit. As a treat.

“Unbelievable, I can’t believe Minji did that,” you mutter, so caught up in the drama of it all (as if you haven’t seen this episode four times) that you don’t hear the key turning in the lock, nor do you hear the footsteps that are heading towards you—what you do hear, however, is the sudden sound of Seokjin’s voice, freezing like a rabbit caught in headlights when you do.

“I forgot my wallet,” he says. “I—”

And that’s how he catches you, wide-eyed as you stare back at him, wishing that you could bury yourself between the sofa pillows so that he can’t see you. His keys are still in his hand and his mouth is open around an unfinished word as he takes the sight of you in, scrunched up against the armrest in some ridiculous attempt to shrink yourself small enough that he would have missed you.

He stares. You stare. You both stare. And then—

“Is that my shirt you’re wearing?”

“No!” A high-pitched shrill of an obvious lie. “No, uh, nope. Nuh-uh. Haha, oh, Jin, always such a jokester, you.”

You want the sofa to suddenly develop sentience and swallow you whole, just so you can be out of this situation. So you wouldn’t have to watch as a smile starts to spread over Jin’s face, the way there’s a little glint in his eyes, the way he opens his mouth and says—

“You know, you didn’t have to turn down noraebang just so you could wear my clothes. You just had to ask, I would have said yes.” He doesn’t seem creeped out, just amused, which is—well, it’s better, but, what? He’s laughing at you? You don’t know if that’s worse, somehow, actually.

“I didn’t! I spilled orange juice on my shirt and then I saw this shirt and you weren’t home—”

“Aha, so you admit it, it’s not your shirt,” Jin proclaims. He looks smug.

“Oh my God, I am full of regret,” you groan. “My life is a disaster. Can we pretend this never happened? I will pay you literal money. Please.”

At this, Jin’s eyes turn soft. “Do you really want that?”

“I—wuh? Do I really want us both to pretend you didn’t walk in on me wearing your shirt like some weird stalker or something? Absolutely. Yes. Let’s do that.”

“I wasn’t joking about letting you wear my clothes,” he says. There’s a note to his voice, something a little doughy, yielding and warm for you, and—you know what your gut is screaming at you, but— “I always thought you’d look cute in them, and I was right.”

You splutter. Jin thought you’d look cute—he’s been thinking about you wearing his clothes—the sort of thing that, you know, couples do. But this is Kim Seokjin you’re talking about. There’s no way he’s attracted to you in the way you’re attracted to him.

… but he is looking at you in a way that’s soft and tender, the same look you give him when you think he isn’t looking.

“Jin,” you say, slow. “Are you…”

“The most handsome man alive? Yes, I am.”

You make a face at his interruption and he laughs at your expression before going quiet, eyes so big and lovely and warm as he smiles at you, and you continue to speak. “Are you saying you want to, y’know. See me wearing more of your clothes? Or, uh... Less clothes in general?”

You can feel the blood rising in your cheeks as you say this, and you can see the red that starts to tinge the top of Jin’s ears, exquisite and wonderful. “I’m saying that I’m happy to give you what’s mine, including my clothes,” he says. “And my time. And love.”

You end up pulling the excess material of the shirt over your head as you turn into some sort of bright pink turtle, overwhelmed and in disbelief but so happy.

Judging from Jin’s laughter and the warmth of his hands reaching for yours in their too-long sleeves, he is, too.

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mardereads19 · 3 years

Text

Elriel Month 🌸🦇

Day 22:

“Hello,” Elain said as she opened the door. She reined in the urge to avert her gaze and furrow her brows, but she did not make her voice sound as friendly as she should have.

Lucien cleared his throat. “Hello.” His eyes had widened when she had been the one to open the door instead of her sister or a servant, but he had recovered quickly. Now he looked as unruffled as if he had always known it’d be Elain he’d been meeting here.

“Every person has give aways of emotions. Tells that reveal what they are feeling —if they’re lying, what their weakness is, and if they are about to attack,” Azriel had said to her during training a few days ago. “Your assignment for tomorrow is that you find give aways in the people you encounter today.”

“Do all of the tells mean the same thing in everyone? Does biting the lower lip, for instance, mean nervousness in everyone or is it an individual thing?” Elain had asked.

Azriel had smiled at her with approval shinning in his eyes. “That’s a very good question. Tells are individual. What might represent nervousness in you, might represent anger in someone else.”

“How will I know what the give away to the people I see mean for them individually?”

“You get better at that with practice. But for tomorrow you only need to note the tells, not what they may mean. Look out for tapping fingers, for roaming eyes, for biting a lip —anything that might reveal emotions.”

And Elain had gotten so good at it that she noticed Lucien’s quick twitch of his fingers. She was willing to bet he felt nervous, perhaps self-conscious, underneath the calm, collected air he was trying to pull-off.

Good, she could almost hear Azriel’s voice whisper in her ear. She held back a smile and opened the door wider, the heat of the mid-day sun hitting her with the warm breeze. Today was a hot day. “Come in.”

Lucien hesitated —another tell— before stepping inside the river house’s foyer. Once she had closed the door behind him, she let herself study him.

Even though Elain was not fond of being in the same room as him, or that this male was her cauldron-given mate, she could not deny he always looked pristine. Even with the heat, Lucien wore a white dress shirt with a pine-green vest and pants. The color brought out the red of his hair —which was elegantly tied at the nape of his neck— and the gold of his eye. She also thought that the scar across his other —metal— eye that others found gruesome and grotesque, made him even more handsome. Nothing like an imperfection to highlight the beauty.

He shifted on his feet and Elain almost asked him what made him so uncomfortable, except she already knew. She felt it, too. “Where are Feyre and Rhysand?”

Elain tilted her head. “Desperate to get away from my presence?”

Lucien whirled towards her, her tone that had been full of disdain, his eyes widening once more. “No, that’s not what I—” He frowned with worry before adding, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

She focused on his real eye, the one that would reveal his emotions, and found sincerity in his gaze. She nodded once. “Feyre and Rhys are gone on Court business, but they asked me to receive you.”

Feyre knew damn well what she had been doing when she left Elain at the river house with the task of receiving Lucien. She and Rhys had both urgently needed to visit the Hewn City to present Nyx and remind the Court of Nightmares who held the reins of their small kingdom. Apparently, the job could not wait one more day.

Lucien inclined his head in a nod. “How is the baby?”

Elain let her lips twist up in a genuine smile, the image of her small nephew coming up into her mind. “He’s healthy, thank the Cauldron.”

Lucien nodded, again. “I’m glad to hear that.”

Nyx had been a blessing. Having him here took her mind off of distracting thoughts. Taking care of him focused her —that is, until she studied his wings and her mind drifted off to another male with wings like that.

Elain shook her head to dispel the image of Azriel. She had to focus on the task at hand, of listening to her mate.

But as Lucien began to update Elain on the Spring Court’s and Tamlin’s current state, she couldn’t stop her mind from drifting off, again.

Mate. This male before her was her mate. What did that mean? Why did that matter? Elain knew the answers to those questions according to the Fae, but the answers were not the same to her. Now you are Fae, too, you know? she reminded herself. Yet as much as she tried to assimilate to their culture, their lifestyle, it was seemingly impossible.

“Reaching complete silence is imposible. It’s even harder here, in Prythian, to achieve stealth. The sharp hearing is an obstacle you must learn to overcome.” Azriel’s voice from one of their initial training sessions rang in her head.

“If it’s impossible, how do you do it? How do the Wraiths do it?”

Azriel had smiled. “The Wraiths are more silent than me —impressive, I know— but they are half shadows themselves.”

Elain had chuckled and raised her brows. “I hadn’t noticed any difference between your levels of stealth.”

Azriel had dipped his chin. “Well, I did train them regardless. Just how I am training you.” And the look he’d given her had made her shift on her feet. Azriel noted the tell and she’d gone still again.

“As I said, complete silence is imposible, but if the sound could be reduced enough to almost imperceivable, it will seem completely quiet. Let’s begin with your footwork.”

Elain slammed back to reality when Lucien mentioned Koschei. And she blinked a few times to remember she was in the river house foyer and not in the ceiling or garden training with—

“I’m sorry, could you repeat that?”

Lucien frowned slightly before saying, “Vassa doesn’t have much time here, before Koschei pulls on her reins. What is Feyre and Rhysand’s plan to find his location?” His eye held a shine and Elain could have sworn she saw fire dancing in his golden iris. His voice had also taken on a fierceness that Elain couldn’t help but admire.

“I don’t know the specifics of it, but Rhysand and Feyre have been trying to find a safe way to visit his lake.” Elain hesitated for a second, not knowing if this information was clear to share or not, but Lucien was their ally, and he was friends with Vassa, who might be the best source of intel they had at the moment. “Azriel and Cassian had an encounter with the death god at his lake already and it did not end well.”

“Bryallin had the crown, that’s how she had controlled Cassian,” Rhys had said in one of their meetings with the Inner Circle. Elain had been walking past the door in the hallway, but she had stopped and listened.

Azriel had spoken next, the sound of his voice making her heart skip. “My shadows warned me to run from there, Rhys. Even if Koschei had no controlling powers, those he does have are dangerous. I’m still not sure how Elain’s —and Feyre and Nesta’s— father could strike a deal with him.”

“Koschei also said he had been preparing for us or some other shit like that,” Cassian added. “I’m not sure if it’s wise to return there without learning more, finding a weakness or something.”

“We know he wants Vassa back,” Amren suggested.

Feyre spoke up, “We are not going to use Vassa as a bargaining ship, Amren.”

“I also don’t think Vassa could guarantee our safety.” Rhys’s comment was followed by a short silence.

A shadow had flowed out through the open door and glanced —or what Elain would interpret as a glance from a shadow— at her before quietly making its way back to Azriel. Elain had taken a step closer to the gap and looked inside the study to see it lift to his ear. The shadowsinger did not glance towards the door, but she saw him smile. Her heart ached with the sudden need to touch those slightly twisted lips.

“We’d be fools to try to taunt Koschei with Vassa, who is still enslaved to him. We need something else, something he wouldn’t venture to hurt us for. Something he wants or, as Cassian said, something that’s his weakness.”

Elain looked up at Lucien now. “Do you think Queen Vassa would agree to meet with Rhysand and Feyre? Now that Azriel and Cassian saw Koschei and his lake themselves, they might understand better any instruction Vassa gives. We need all the help we can get.”

Lucien began nodding even before she had finished her question, his eye filling with hope —for the human queen, Elain noted. “Anything you need, Vassa will be happy to provide as long as she knows about it or if she’s not enchanted against speaking of.”

“Enchanted?”

Lucien’s brow furrowed. “Sometimes Vassa finds it difficult to speak of certain things. She’d be speaking one moment and the next second she’d forget what she was about to say. She never understands it, but my eye,” he gestured to his metal eye, “picks spells up.” His gold eye darkened. “Koschei won’t let her speak of some things, I’m guessing they are vital to learning how to defeat him.”

Elain dipped her chin and tucked away the information for later, when she got to tell her sister and her mate what Lucien told Elain.

The male before her said a few things more regarding the human territory —Elain placing on her face the most neutral mask she could muster, Azriel’s impassive face as her guideline— before bidding her goodbye.

Elain was accompanying him to the door when she realized she should have had invited him into a parlor and offered tea or anything. He was outside before she could apologize, but he turned to her abruptly, like he had been fighting an impulse that won out in the end. Elain just blinked at him, waiting.

“I—” His face flushed. “It was nice seeing you.”

Elain bowed her head and told herself being polite was not the same thing as accepting their fated bond. “As was seeing you.”

Lucien opened his mouth like he might say more, but then he closed it and bowed. He turned swiftly and walked away from the estate.

Elain watched him go, wondering if she would have felt something for him if she had met him differently. He was noble, that much was true for her. But there was no spark of joy in her heart when she saw him. Instead, she couldn’t help but feeling disdain at being around him. It had more to do with the stupid mating bond than it did him. More to do with how everyone expected them to get together at one point or another. More to do with the fact that it was not up to her to decide. The mating bond with Lucien felt like she had no choice.

But if she had met him differently?

Hazel eyes flashed in her mind. A scarred hand extending towards her before guiding her to the garden. Wings sunning as she drank tea and plotted out in her head the next section of the terrain.

Elain shut the door, a sad smile appearing on her face. It would not have mattered if Lucien and Elain had met differently. She had met Azriel first, and it had been born out of him being with the good side. Him wanting to help the humans who had no way of defending themselves.

He had been the one to listen to her when her visions had her speaking in code. It had been him who had assured everyone she was not crazy, but special. That she was not lacking anything, but had gained something.

Elain had tried to ignore it, but this meeting with her mate, where she had not been able to push away memories of moments spent with Azriel from her mind... She could not deny it any longer.

Her feelings for Azriel were like weeds in her heart. The more she tried to cut them, the more they grew and spread. She was so far gone that not even a conversation with Lucien could stop her from thinking about her shadowsinger.

She was buried underneath it. The ivy of her emotions for him. The ivy of him.

It kept on growing.

#elrielmonth #elrielmonth21 #elriel #elain #azriel #elain archeron #elriel endgame #pro elriel #elriel fanfic #elriel oneshot #my writing

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fandomout · 3 years

Text

Frenchie x Reader

Not my gif

I have seen way to little content about the boy so here’s one for Frenchie

You and Frenchie are close friends.

As the loss of Kimiko’s brother happened recently, it sent Kimiko into fits of rage and desire for revenge. While everyone was worried about her, Frenchie was the only one trying to get involved. You and him being close, he confided in you about it. This time he mentioned tailing her as he knew she was going out today.

“Frenchie, I think you should stay here. If it makes you feel better, I can tail her. No one knows I’m a part of your group.”

“I have to go.”

“Frenchie, you could get caught any moment. Kimiko at least has her abilities-”

“I’m going. Are you coming or not?” He gave you a playful smirk that you couldn’t resist. You nodded your head at him hesitantly. He rushed forward to bring you into a chaste hug with the added few chaste kisses to the cheek. You immediately went red, and you were grateful that he went off to another part of the basement.

Currently, you and him were trailing behind Kimiko. Despite, the focus being Kimiko, you hadn’t forgotten the fact that he was the one most in danger if anything happened. Thus, you were cautious to make sure his hoodie covered him properly. You were trying to stay 5 steps ahead if at any point he got noticed by the police. As Kimiko stops to look at Stormfront, Kimiko looks like she’ll attack. The momentary distraction let's Frenchie slip past you and over to Kimiko. As Stormfront flies off, Kimiko rushes off and away from Frenchie, who goes deeper into the crowd much to your discontent. You noticed a wandering side-eye from one of the police men and saw him gesture toward Frenchie. You quickly rush forward and pull him close as you drag him roughly through the crowd. You shove him into a small store nearby. A large marble column hiding him as he’s behind the glass. Immediately, you see the police getting closer. You muster up the loudest scream you can. Everyone looks over at you. You scream, “I saw one of those wanted psychos on tv running over there!” One of the police asks you to walk along in the supposed sighting of the criminal. As the team confirms no ones around, they say you have to go for questioning. You're worried as is; however, your blood pressure spikes when you see the Vought tower in sight. You try not to hyperventilate. Visibly, you seem fine, but you're trying to figure out how you’ll play this out and calm down.

They lead you into the team meeting room. By then, your biggest concern is your heart. You're well aware that Homelander will be the one questioning you as he’s a literal human lie detector. It’s not so much caring about what’ll happen to you, but they might find a way to use you to get to everyone else. You couldn’t bear that thought. You decided your strategy would be to think of something to calm you down. You tried animals and cute things. Ultimately, you stopped on Frenchie. He could always make you feel better. He made you feel safe and comforted. Something about him was familiar and like home. You chose him, and you were going to try your best with white lies.

As Homelander walks up, you immediately try to imagine Frenchie was with you.

“Hello.” He says kindly, but his smile was unsettling. You knew the truth behind it. Knowing your heart was going to spike from the thought, you cover it up by acting excited and say, “I-Wow-I didn't expect the Homelander to be here. You're the one questioning me. I can't believe I’m meeting you.” You want to throw up from the words.

“I know I’m a sight to behold, but we really need your help.” He says more firmly. You nod slowly.

“How can I help?”

“First. I need you to I.D which criminal you saw.” He pulls up pictures on the table your hands lay on. You act scared as your hands shake, and you point to Frenchie’s photo.

“Did you see him trying to do anything specific?”

“I think he was following someone.”

“Was it anyone on this list?”

“Yes. It’s the girl.”

“Do you know where they went?”

“No.”

“You don’t know anything else that might be important?”

“Like what? What’s considered important? I just was in the crowd hearing the speech Stormfront was giving, and I saw his face. That’s all.”

“Well, if you happened to see him again, let us know. There’s a number you can call on the Vought website.”

“I hope I don’t see him again. I was scared he was gonna do something, but I know what you mean.”

“Are you sure there is nothing else to say?” He lowers himself down to your level. He holds the top of the chair roughly and looks at you sternly. You imagine Frenchie making a funny face and you shake your head. You’d hoped it kept your heart under control. He pulls away with another fake smile. “Thank you for your help. I have hero duties. Bye.”

“Bye. Nice meeting you!” You say. You are led out quickly from the tower, but you don’t let your heart give out any true feelings until you're in your apartment. You shut the door and let out a breath. You close your eyes and try to calm down for real this time. When you open your eyes and walk though your small hallway, you turn on the lights. You stop in your tracks as you notice all of your curtains were down. You hadn't left them like that. Immediately, you took out your taser and pepper spray and continued walking forward. You round the corner about to use both when you see Frenchie. His arms raised in defense.

“Let's not hurt Frenchie!” He says rushed in a weirdly cheerful tone.

“Frenchie?” He gave you a bright smile. You hit him softly and tell him, “I could have tased you!”

“But, you didn’t, mona mi.” You huff at him before walking over to your kitchen counter to put your things down. Suddenly, you're more aware that he’s here and say, “Wait! Did something happen?! Are you okay?! Is everything okay back at the-” He covers your mouth with an adoring smile planted on his face.

“Nothing happened to us or me while you were gone.” You speak forgetting his hand was there, and it all gets muffled. He removes his hand to allow you to say, “Good. You shouldn't be here. It’s dangerous.” You rush toward the window to make sure all the curtains are secure. You are happy that you don’t have a television. You would have covered it up. You dim the lights. He lets out a small laugh at the erratic behaviors, but he lightheartedly, says, “I came to make sure there was no harm done to even a hair on your head.” You give him a weird look. “I was worried. You could have gotten hurt.”

“As you see, I am fine. I’ll drive you back to the store.” He holds his hands out to gesture for you to stop.

“I’m already here. I might as well spend a little more time.” He says and sits right on the couch.”

“Frenchie, you being here is dangerous...” He just keeps his smile. You let out a sigh and hand him a bottle of water. You sit next to him.

“Tell me what happened.”

“I got questioned and came home.”

“Homelander talked to you?”

“Yeah.”

“How did you make it out of there? I would of shit myself if he was standing right there.” You let out a small laugh and shrugged at him. “Come on, admit you were scared.”

“Of course. I was...I got through it though. I knew my heart would give everything away, so I tried to stay calm.”

“How did you do that? I need to know your secret.”

“I just thought of something that I liked. An image of something I liked to calm myself with.”

“What did you think of?”

“A person was better since I have some kind of attachment.” He sat up straighter in his seat and asked, “Who?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“But I do. Don’t be embarrassed. You can't be with me.”

“You. I thought of you since you're really nice and stuff.”

“It worked?”

“Yeah…” You looked away from him as you felt awkward and weird. You hear shifting on the other side of the couch. You want to facepalm yourself as you think you’ve made him uncomfortable . Actually, what you hadn’t seen was he made himself even more comfortable. He made himself sit right next to you. You turned your head to see his face right in front of you. His arms reached over to wrap his arms around your shoulders. Your heart beats quickly at the situation at hand as you don’t know where it leads. You look to his lips as he smiles. His smile reassures you, but it sends butterflies to your stomach. You meet his eyes. He uses his free hand to boop your nose, which manages to relieve all the stress of the situation's you burst into laughter. He states, “You're adorable.” You don’t have much time to process before he kisses you. You stand stiff at his actions. He pulls away and asks, “You do not like kissing me?”

“I don’t understand.”

“You don’t understand a kiss?”

“Not that.” You remove yourself from him. “I thought you liked Kimiko.”

“I have feelings for her?”

“Yeah.”

“We are friends. I understand her because we are friends.”

“Okay...but your saying you like me?” He crouches down with a smile on his face, and he takes your hands.

“I like you very much. J’adore ton sourire. Tu es charmante. Tu me rends heureux. Je veux être avec toi.” You give him a loving look, despite not knowing what he was saying. You squeeze his hand back. He lets out a chuckle and asks, “Do you know what I said?” You shook your head, cheeks flushed, and said, “No but it sounded heavenly.”

“I love your smile. You are charming. You make me happy. I want to be with you.” You reach out for his face trying to find words instead you let yourself take the reins this time and kiss him. An intense hot sensation fuels from your throat, down to your chest, though your arms and continues to spread until your whole body is hot. You pull away breathless. The only words you can muster are, “I love you.”

I hope your day got a little bit better

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georgemackayhey · 4 years

Text

And I’m Coming For You

a/n: I think I’ve gotten at least a dozen vauge requests to write something for Ned over the year I’ve had this blog and I finally figured something out!

warning: This wasn’t supposed to be nsfw but it’s Ned Kelly so it got a little steamy. Proceed with age appropritae caution or else! Basically 18+

gif by @hold-fire

───※ ·❆· ※───

The Kelly’s. You knew the family name. Heard it through gossip in the village shops. Heard men on horses declare their mission to cease one of the gang’s latest schemes. Heard ladies worry over husbands who got mixed up with the lot. But never did you imagine any of the Kelly’s to be so handsome.

But you didn’t know he was one of them… not right away. In your mind, The Kelly’s were a group of savages who hid out in the bush, waiting for passersby to torment. That’s the way all the rumors made it sound, anyway. So when a well-built man with piercing blue eyes strolled up to your stall, you didn’t second guess his status. You could hardly conjure up a polite greeting when you first laid eyes on the guy, only because of how alarmed you were by his beauty. He was sculpted by the angels, surely. You must have passed out in the deadly summer heat and a vision came to keep your comatose mind company. Till he spoke, in a voice that snapped you back to life.

“What have you got?” He asked like he was worried you wouldn’t have any of the things your booth advertised. But you understood his tone all the while. The summer was the driest yet, and the country's crops were long past suffering. You sold a farmer’s seeds, while the man was busy off bartering for more. If anyone was lucky enough to afford a bundle, the seeds still weren’t guaranteed to sprout in the dry barren world you’d found yourselves in, this year.

So with the sliver of hope you held fast to, you listed off the supplies in your sock, and avoided the man's piercing eyes as he watched you speak. When your spiel was finished, he shifted, and you pretended not to admire the way he moved- even the minuscule change in his stance seemed like a sight you were lucky to behold.

“I’ve only got these. Give me whatever they’re worth.” The guy laid two coins on your stand. They were barely worth handing over. And you’d been getting better at turning folks away, even given the circumstances, you had to eat too. But the thought of upsetting the tall brooding fella across from your stall made your stomach turn. So you gathered a reasonable collection of seeds and handed them over.

“There are too many here.” He glanced down to the bag, and then back up at you, like you’d wronged him. Like you, he had to eat too. So you added an extra few in, hoping some of the extra meant he’d surely have success.

“Take them.” You pressed, sitting back on the stool that kept you in the measly shade.

The man sighed and tightened his grip on the small sack of seeds before turning away. He gave you a nod and the flex of his structured jaw before disappearing. You noticed his hair was a bit longer in the back as he drifted away, while you tried to memorize his every move in hopes you’d better spot him again one day.

The weather started to let up after then. Like your interaction with the handsome stranger set the world to spin right, again. How silly of you, dreaming of a face you’d likely forget about by the next burning summer. But even when a few gentle breezes passed by, the heat nearly sent your mind to melt out of your ears, and you seriously considered packing up your things and hiding away till winter came.

The farmer you worked for was away longer each week, and your supply was running low. But even the most selfish and demanding customers seemed to understand though. Everyone was doing whatever they could, and most of the time that was nothing at all. In the beginning, you didn’t mind sitting around, waiting for someone to pass by. You were pleasantly occupied, and getting paid for it. But as the summer dragged on, and the community had taken to staying in, you loathed every new minute behind your stall.

Even when the barmaid brought you a cool drink, you could only smile at her thoughtfulness before regressing back to melting. Even when someone came by for some of the withering veggies you’d started trying to sell; you couldn’t be coaxed into feeling much more than dread.

Then he came back. The man with the icy eyes and choppy hair. He floated toward you with an all new vigour, like he’d known exactly what he’d come back for.

“Here.” He said, extending his long hand toward you. You straightened, and opened your palms at the command without question, though you had many.

“You gave me more than I needed, and we’ve had more than we ever had before. I must repay you.” His voice was full, and your palm was now heavy under the weight of a golden ring. An emerald set sparkling in the middle of the gaudy band, and your eye’s went wider the longer you admired the thing.

“This is a bit much for a few extra crops, don’t ya think?” You stammered and shook your head, and shoved the jewellery back toward the man who you’d lost hope of seeing again. As soon as your reach met him, the man grabbed your wrist with a lithe urgency. You watched as he took the ring from your grasp, looked back up to you, and slid the thing on your finger.

You gapped, watching the guy watch you, the feeling of his remaining grip warmer than all of summer, firmer than the ring he put on you, out of the blue.

“Isn’t it a bit early in the day to be harassing the townswomen, Kelly?” A distance voice cut in, from an officer high upon a trotting horse.

At the man's word your mind spun a mile a minute. Your blood ran cold- and then it started to boil as you noticed the flash in the eye’s of the man; The Kelly who still held your hand like a prized flower.

“You’re the only one disturbing the peace, officer. Now do ya need seeds or shall we see you on your way, then?” You spoke sternly, shooting a glare to the officer. He grumbled and tightened the reins of his horse and turned to leave, keeping an eye on your interaction for a moment longer still.

“What’s your name?” The man with sapphire eyes wondered, quickly taking back his hand yet standing still nearer than ever.

You told him and he repeated it, taking a dragging step back. And then another. You watched each other in the dry summer heat for what felt like forever.

“Ned.” He nodded. You smiled and watched him walk away with a fiercely beating heart, wondering why no one ever had a good thing to say about those Kelly’s.

A day passed, full of girlish bliss and silly daydreams bold enough to distract you from the heat. You wondered everything about Ned. Who you hadn’t thought of was the officer who seemed so eager to catch the guy in some kind of compromise. But it was the officer who came back the next day. He waited in line behind an elderly couple as you gave them what they asked for. And when they shuffled toward the closest indoors, the officer stepped up and seemed more keen on taking what it was he wanted than asking nicely for it.

Before you could so much as ask how his day was going, the guy reached past your counter, grabbed your hand and yanked you eye to eye.

“Nice ring you’ve got, here.” He glanced down to your finger in his vice grip, the ring from Ned placed proudly on the finger he himself adorned. “Too bad it’s stolen.”

“Are you implying I’m a thief?” You guffawed, trying with a sudden might to yank your hand away. Your strength was lacking, and the officer was quick to haul you away from your stand. You went fighting, cursing the man who dragged you down the block toward the police house at the end of the row. You didn’t care who might have seen from the windows of their cool shelters. You hoped somebody might have, in fact, and would race to your defence.

How dare he accuse you of taking what wasn’t yours.

“I know you saw as this ring was placed in my possession. How can you drag me in here and say I stole it?” You spat, fighting the officer’s grip all the way through the door of the jailhouse. He threw you toward the office with his name displayed on the door, but it might as well have been a cell.

“Oh, I know you didn’t steal it, las.” The officer grinned, giving your shoulder a harsh push so you sat in the chair across from his desk, as high and mighty as the horse he could usually be spotted upon. The officer leaned there, with a boot propped on the arm of the chair you’d been confined too. You gawked at the man in anger that boiled over your confusion.

“Ned Kelly stole the ring. Right from my very own pocket. He beat me bloody in a boxing match and decided on his own that my gold was his preferred prize for the attack.” He explained with a queasy smile. You started to sink in your chair, only attempting to distance yourself from the way the officer slinked closer and closer toward you.

“I want it back.” He grinned, right before you. He grabbed your hand in a gentle way that was equally as nauseating as his clawing at you had been. And then he regressed back to the only way he must have known, or prefered, ripping the ring from your finger in a way that caused you to subdue a shriek. You weren’t about to let your guard down.

“And I’ve got it back.” The officer kept his slimy grin, leaning back against the desk and sliding the ring on his smallest finger. The jewel seemed so ugly now.

“I could have done that just as easily back at your stall. But I’ve brought you here because I just have this burning feeling that, when I ask you where Ned’s gone off to, you’re going to pretend not to know. And unfortunately, you can’t leave until you tell me.”

“What?” You asked through your teeth, sitting up with an all new rage sparking inside of you.

“Tell me where that Kelly devil has run off too this week, and you can be on your way.”

“I don’t know Ned Kelly. Though it makes me curdle to admit to you I wish I did, he only gave me that ring in exchange for the seeds I sold him.”

The office chuckled darkly, slamming his foot back on the chair you started to lean too far away from to hiss your honest truth.

“That game isn’t going to work.” The officer bent so his eyes burned right into yours and you knew he was right. You also knew if you lied, and gave away some random coordinates, that Ned most likely wouldn’t be wherever you imagined he might have been, and the officer would come back to treat you much worse than he was now.

“I don’t know where he is. Your ring is back on your finger now let me go.”

“This was never about the ring, was it?” The officer cocked his head, and you realized there was no real way out of this.

“If it’s revenge you want you’re no better than a Kelly yourself.” You sneered. You’d come to reevaluate your mental image of the gang you’d only ever heard rumors about. You came to wonder if the officer was to blame for spreading most of them. But your insult was his final straw. His nails dug into your arm once more and he pulled you away from the office to a hole in the wall of the next building over.

“You can’t do this!” You shouted, trying harder than ever to escape the man's grasp. He was strong enough to throw you behind bars, and fast enough to lock them before you could stand.

“I’ll find Ned one way or another,” The officer assured. “But you’ll stay here until you speak the truth.”

You wanted to cry but the summer heat had dried you from the inside out it seemed. You lingered for a while near the bars, hoping someone would pass through the barren land and you could talk them into breaking you out. And when the sun started to go down, a breeze came to chill the evening. What small hell, being falsely prisoned in the heat and finding no shelter in the night's cold. You grew tired of worrying and sat in the empty space watching the stars decorate the horizon. If you listened closely enough you could hear the sounds of the town coming alive in the distance. You could see flickers of lanterns and hear the ruckus from the pub, and even a few horses carrying people to parties that weren’t too hot to throw at this hour.

But the sound of trots became unmistakable gallops and as you tried to imagine what was happening, the horses seemed to stall somewhere near. You heard voices and the thud of feet on the ground and the shout of the officer whose voice was grossly familiar to you now. You stood to peer from the bars, hoping to catch a glimpse of the comotion, but no sooner than you rose to your feet, someone appeared on the other side of your cell. His hair was long and black and there were keys in his hand that he jammed into the lock.

“What’s happening?” You asked, in a frightened hush. You didn’t know this man or why he’d chosen to break you out. And with the way the evening had gone, you were afraid of where it might have been going now. The man swung open the gate and waved you to freedom with a wild look in his eye. You hurried from the cell, but before you could turn in the direction of home, the sound of gunfire rang from just around the corner.

You started to scream, but the man who’d freed you pressed his hand over your mouth and demanded you stay silent with one bone chilling look. What the hell have you gotten yourself into? As you wondered what was to become of you and what you might be able to do to decide your own destiny, the deafening quiet was broken.

“Get off of her. We’re done here.” Ned Kelly approached calmly, leading a speckled horse toward where you stood. The man with dark hair let you go and followed Ned’s command to get gone. But you stood, taking the sight of him in, trying to wrap your boggled mind over what was going on. You were much too scared to ask.

He was brooding as ever, his clothes seemed a size too small and his brow seemed permanently furrowed yet it seemed like the most beautiful sight you’d ever seen.

“How’d you know I was here?” You asked, hardly having processed that you’d ended up where you had yourself.

“Someone wiser would have sold off that ring for something better,” Ned spoke, looming before you. Was his bold presence what shook the townspeople so? Was it only you who felt safe when he was near?

“You could have done the same." You pointed out.

"I gave it to you." Ned seemed to reason, in an endearing way that he didn’t even seem to realize.

"And I couldn't take it off then, could I?" You couldn’t help your small grin, considering everything.

Ned seemed to consider your words and then offered to take you home. You perhaps agreed too quickly, but you were on the back of his horse before you had time to second guess your eagerness. And though you longed to cling to Ned on the ride, you didn’t take your gentle hold on him for granted. You only hoped that once his horse rode past the mess of trees to your humble little home, that Ned would agree to stay for dinner.

You talked the guy into leaving his horse in the stable near the woods, and promised you had more than enough of an evening meal to share with him.

Ned sat quietly in the corner of your place, a glass of water in his hand. Though the evening was chilled, your fire put on to cook dinner was reminiscent of the daytime temperature. You didn’t have to do very much but mix a few things in a pot and leave it to simmer. So when your task was finished for the near future, you turned your sights to the man you’d invited in.

“You saved me.” You said, walking toward the chair Ned waited in. Your statement was a sort of thanks and a question as to why all wrapped up in one. And while you sat in the seat at his side, Ned turned his head your way but didn’t look at you.

“I also got you into trouble. I shouldn’t have mixed you up in my way of things.” Ned countered, keeping his glass of water in a tight fist and letting his eyes travel up your figure until they locked with yours.

“You didn’t. I was already pretty mixed up with your way, myself.” You couldn’t help but admit you hadn’t stopped thinking about him from the moment he showed up that first day. When he came back, you were done for. And now here he was, in your home, his sapphire eye’s gazing into yours after he’d somehow come to your rescue.

You leaned in, and when Ned didn’t move away, you kissed him. Just a slow and sweet. He didn’t kiss back, not really. He just sat frozen, like you’d stalled time. You pulled away, hoping your blush could be excused but the temperature in this shack of yours. Just the heat getting to your head, again. You rose from your chair with a meek apology, and padded toward the fire to check on the stew. You killed the flame and scooped some of the meal into bowls and toted them toward the table. When you moved to refill the pitcher of water, your mission was halted.

Ned’s fingers were around your wrist, gently yanking you closer to fill the space between the two of you. You could feel the rise and fall of his chest, and you could feel his breath on your lips, his eyes fluttered away from yours like he didn’t really want to look away from you. His nose nudged yours as his free hand rose to your jaw, and then he kissed you.

It was slower and sweeter than the first time, totally unexpected. You smiled when you realized this mysterious rumored neerdowell was hardly any of the things the rumors surrounding his name made him out to be.

Because even as you snaked your arms around his neck and deepened the kiss, Ned’s hold on you reamied tender.

“You’re not going to hurt me, Ned.” You chuckled, taking one of his hands and pressing his fingers around your waist. “I trust you.” You nodded gazing up to the guy who searched your eyes with the slightest furrow of his brow. And maybe it was because your hands rested there but you swore you could feel some kind of weight lift from the guys shoulders. He leaned in for another kiss that traveled to your neck. You leaned into the wall and pulled him along too, and it seemed he wasn’t afraid to hold back after then.

His lips bruised yours and his rough hands trailed toward your chest and you already seemed to float closer to heaven while his touch had yet to meet your skin.

“Let me repay you for coming to my rescue.” You sighed, hooking a finger in the hem of his trousers.

“Only if I’m to repay you in turn, and we might forever be in each other's debt.” Ned’s breath hitched in your ear, one hand daring to creep up your thigh below your dress.

Dinner went cold as you pulled Ned toward your bed. You thanked him in more ways than one, and tugged at the hair that grew longer around his neck. You watched his brilliant blue eye roll as your hips met and soon forgot how to speak in the middle of telling him how best to use his hands. Yours stayed gripping the sheet and your mind wandered and made itself up. Even though you barely knew more than rumors about Ned Kelly, you learned the truth all night long, in a way. And if one day you’d come to find a reason to nod along with the townspeople while they gossiped about the Kellys; you prayed it might be because you’d become more than familiar with Ned’s mysterious ways

───※ ·❆· ※───

#george mackay #george mackay x reader #george mackay imagine #george mackay fanfic #ned kelly

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jinrawon · 3 years

Text

Your wish is my command.Part V

Jinyoung x Fem!Reader. Royal AU.

Genre: Fluff, angst. A bit of fantasy.

Summary: When the crown prince, Park Jinyoung, breaks his engagement he is forced to have someone he did not expect as his knight. Displeased with the idea, deep down he knows he will need her by his side.

Words: 2k-3k

The job sure was tiring. You expected Jinyoung to be the type to stay in his room reading some books and even though that happened it didn’t last long. He had responsibilities of utmost importance, ones that you noticed didn’t decrease. It seemed as if he wouldn’t stay put in one place and he was not to blame, he seemed as tired as you if not more. You were sure he would gladly stay in his room reading but as the next in line for the throne he had no other choice but to attend meetings and take care of things that the king couldn’t. Poor Jinyoung was tired and the last days were busier than ever. You knew you were in no position to tell him to rest so you watched as he pushed himself over the limits. You knew it yet something told you to stop him.

“ Your highness. “ After hours following him around he turned to look at you. You had only seen his back. Seeing his face you knew you should have stopped him sooner and you wondered if he was even aware of the state he was in. “ I think you should rest now. “

“ I have a meeting with your favourite Duke.”

“ Then more the reason, you should delay it to tomorrow, I believe your schedule will be less worrying. “ He seemed to consider it for a while but he declined. “ It’s the Duke we are talking about, your highness. “ You crossed your arms and gave him a stern look. “ If he sees you just as you are right now he will take you as someone weak and you now we… you are not supposed to show weakness. You are going to be king someday, perhaps when the Duke is dead but if he isn’t then he will take advantage of this. “

He laughed a little but soon a frown was seen in his face.

“ What makes you think delaying it won’t make him think I am weak? “

“ I can give him the message, I will make sure he understands he is not important enough for you to worry about him. “

You were not entirely wrong. Jinyoung couldn’t care less about what the man had to say about his business, he just wanted to sleep for the rest of the day after taking a bath. The offer you gave him was tempting.

“ He is a duke. “

“ He was going to marry me and not anyone else because the only thing he can offer is the title.” You answered. “ His money is decreasing because he doesn't know how to handle his own land. If it was me, yes, he could do something, but not against you. You have wealth and a title above his.”

The way you spoke was convincing enough for him to call for a messenger. He was not going to send you, not to meet that man. After giving the messenger a letter for the Duke he seemed less tense. He was going to be thankful for the break he was taking and therefore, he would be thankful to you.

Both of you went to his room and you waited sitting on his bed while he was having a bath. You saw a small book he was reading and opened it to spend the time less bored. He finally finished and looked at you while you read.

“ You should take a bath too. “

“ I’ll do that before going to sleep. “ You closed the book and looked at the prince in his nightshirt . He looked cute. “ You know how it is, I stay by your side until Jackson or Jaebeom take my place. “ “ Nice. “ He mumbled, clearly displeased. “ You are one to tell me to rest. “ “ I barely do anything, tho. “

He threw himself on the bed.

“ You stay with me until the sun is up again, then you sleep for like what? Two hours? Then you have training with Jaebeom and then you come to me again. “

“ You must like me a lot, your highness. “ Your smile was smug. “ You know my schedule way better than I do. “

“ I also know that you slept during training this morning and Jaebeom scolded you. Wouldn’t be surprised if it happens again tomorrow. “

“ I am responsible, it won’t happen again. “

“ That’s why the other day you left your sword here. “

“ It was just the other day, tho. “

“ And Jaebeom almost killed you. “ He laughed. “ The sword I gave you at that. Should I feel offended? “

“ No! “ He was teasing you and you knew but everytime he did you fell in his trap. “ I left it here because I knew I would find it. “

“ RIght, I remember you saying something like…” He cleared his throat and smirked. “ Have you seen my sword, if I lose it I’m dead. “ He imitated your tone and the way you had said it, with gestures included. “ But sure, you knew where it was. “

“ I did… I just forgot. “

After answering with a “sure” not convinced of your excuses he grabbed the book and read until he fell asleep. He would be lying if he said it was easy sleeping in someone else's presence but he did not feel uncomfortable around you and he was tired enough to forget about it.

It was a week later when a visit to another kingdom was scheduled for the prince and you were supposed to go with him. That is why you found yourself sleeping on a carriage in front of the prince. It was early in the morning and he knew you needed sleep so he was not going to be the one to disturb you, however it would be a mistake to think he would not tease you about your sleeping face later. Of course not everyone had the same idea as him. They would not let you sleep that easily. Before even Jinyoung could notice you opened your eyes and grabbed him by the wrist pulling him to you. You were hugging him in your arms and soon an arrow was where his head was a second before.

“ Down, now! “ He was quick to do as you told him and you made him hide under the little space between the seats and the floor. “ Don’t get out until I get back. “ You opened the door of the carriage and he watched you get out. “

He could not think. He was not scared, he had gone through the same thing more times, times when he was alone. His heart was beating faster and he finally knew. He was worried something would happen to you, he could not face Jaebeom if some bandits or whatever was out there, killed you. He could not think straight. He knew what you had said but he knew how to fight. He could help you.

“ So, where is the prince, young lady? “ The driver of the carriage was being held hostage and you wondered why those bandits thought that person meant something to you. “ If you don’t answer I may slice this man’s throat. “ “ What makes you think his life is any more valuable than the prince’s? “ The driver was scared and your words only made him more scared but you did not falter. Your job wasn’t protecting him, it was protecting Jinyoung. “ You may do whatever you want, I will take the reins myself. “

The bandit seemed out of his zone of comfort and you almost wanted to laugh. You did not want to leave the driver behind, it was not how you acted but they did not need to know that.

“ Man, I feel bad for you, she is cold. “ He patted the driver in the back and tossed him aside having decided he was of no use. “ I’ll take care of you later.” “ You won’t. “

When the prince finally decided to go and help he saw the corpses of a group of bandits and your unmoved self. The driver was trembling and you got closer to him.

“ I was not going to let him kill you, it was just a bluff. “ You offered your hand but he didn’t take it. “ Sorry. “ You turned on your heels just to see Jinyoung looking around. He was not scared but he seemed amazed with your skills. You were unhurt and all those people were dead. All the other knights that accompanied you barely did anything and Jinyoung could tell they were as amazed by you as he was. “ What are you doing here? Get in. “

“ Ah, sure ma’am. “

“ Can somebody help this poor man? “ A knight quickly moved to help the driver and you got in the carriage once again. “ I told you to wait. Why didn’t you listen?” “ Last time I checked I was the boss, did it change, Lim Y/N? “ “ Well, in a situation like this it changes, Park Jinyoung. “

“ Are you worried I might die? “ You frowned. “ Of course you are, what a question. I’ve gone through this more times than I can count, don’t worry. “

“ You may have gone through it but it doesn't have to end with the same result every single time. “

Just as you were scolding him the carriage started to move again.

“ I wasn’t planning on going out either but I thought of Jaebeom hyung. “

“ What does he have to do with any of this? “ “ He is your big brother and I went against his wishes making you my knight. “ You looked surprised. “ But it was that or marriage. “

“ What? He didn’t want me to be your knight? “

“ He doesn’t want you to be a knight, he has never, “ He answered. “ He is afraid you’ll get hurt. But he didn’t want you to marry the Duke either. When I broke the engagement he kind of… “ “ He got mad, I know. He also scolded me. “ You sitted and sighed. “ And I know he is afraid of me getting hurt but I just want him to trust me. So please, do as I tell you. “ “ I didn’t know you were so sensitive. “

“ Oh, come on now. “

“ Anyways, they were asking for me, “ He said. “ therefore they were paid. “

“ I thought so too. Someone must have leaked our route and not only that but if they were just normal bandits they would not have looked for you. “

He watched you with fascination. You were deep in thought and he couldn't help but think how calm you seemed. It was out of character for you. You were either quiet because you didn’t want to bother him or either you were cheerful and made his day seem easier than it was. This was a completely new side of you for him and it didn’t help him. He was fond of you and once again he was remembered of it.

The kingdom you were sent to was a little one which didn’t hold much power so it was not a surprise for Jinyoung you insisted on being by his side the whole time. He wanted you to rest but the first day he saw how you were still doing your routine if not sleeping even less.

“ You are useless. “ He said and you could not help but look at him in disbelief. “ Before you get mad let me elaborate. “

“ Well, you really need to elaborate for me to be okay with this. “

He placed his book on the nightstand and looked at you, smirking.

“ Right now you are useless. You are so tired you can barely keep your eyes open. “

“ I’m alright. No rest needed. “ You plopped on his bed without asking him and he gave you a judging look.” Aren’t you the one telling me to rest? “

“ Yes but ask if you can lay down in my bed, Miss Lim. “ You laughed at his face. “ Anyway, you were denying needing a rest so get up. “

You pouted. Just laying on the bed felt much better, you didn’t need to close your eyes, it was enough laying on the bed. You kept on telling yourself that but the sleep was too close.

“ Okay. “ He saw you and sighed, stopping you as you were about to do as he told you. “ You just told me to get up. “

“ Don’t, you are so tired that I can’t even tease you without feeling bad. “You were by his side, looking at him and wondering if it was okay for you to sleep. “ I’ll stay here by your side so you know I won’t move. “

“ I’m not sure, your highness. “

“ Do you snore or drool while sleeping, is that why you are so hesitating? “

“ I do not. None of those, I do not. “

“ Then perhaps you are like hyung and fart while you sleep…” He mumbled. “ Ah, forget that.” “ Hyung? Which hyung? Now I am curious. “ You said. “ Please tell me it is Jaebeom so I can tease him. “

“ Go to sleep Lim Y/N, tomorrow is going to be hectic. “ You didn't even put yourself in a comfortable position and closed your eyes. “ Could you at least try to rest for real? “ “ It feels like I am not doing my job well if I sleep. “ “ You are always the one telling me to rest so don’t get on my nerves. “ You knew better than to go against the prince’s orders so you did as he told you and looked at him for a while. “ I know I am handsome, Y/N, but please. “

You knew he was getting annoyed and that made you laugh.

“ It’s late, your highness. “

“ Don’t you dare. “ You smiled knowingly. “ Fine, if you want me to sleep with you that bad I’ll do it. “ “ That is not what I…” “ I know what you meant. “

He won and there was no choice but to sleep by his side, having the most sleep you had in a while.

When the next day arrived you opened your eyes to see him sleeping peacefully. You always saw him prepared to sleep but not once had you seen him wake up and you wondered if he was as bad as you. You knew you were a mess but it did not worry you yet seeing him wake up seemed interesting. You wanted to see if he stopped having that handsome face for a minute. You were wrong.

“ Stop staring, it’s creepy. “ He was just as handsome as ever. “ You wake up looking like that? You must take your time to get ready. “

“ This is the best sleep I had in a while, thank you, your highness. “ You rubbed your. “ I should change. “ “ It’s okay, you are looking like a mess but it’s cute. “

“ Jinyoung, “ you looked at him sternly. “ don’t flirt with me. “ “ You think I want to flirt with you? “ He laughed . “ You have some confidence, you are great and all but if I wanted to flirt with you you would not have let me break the engagement. “

He had his way of making you frustrated but at the same time it was amusing.

“ I don’t think you are that great of a flirt. You know who is? Yugyeom, he flirts without wanting to, and Bam is just unbelievable. “

“ Yugyeom? Come on, you could have told me someone else, I don’t know, Mark hyung, but Yugyeom can’t even speak to a girl without blushing. “ “ He is a dance instructor, your highness, and someone who can’t have your head off your shoulders. He is attractive so he doesn't need much flirting. “

“ Anyways, I’m much better at it than him. Have you seen me flirting or what? “ “ Well I do remember the gifts. “ It was his duty making presents to you and your family because of your old status as his future queen. It was seen as his way of flirting and not once did he get to your heart. “ Your ways are just old fashioned. A carriage of flowers, really? “ “ I didn’t send that, I assure you. “ He looked embarrassed, making you enjoy yourself. “ It was my father, something about making you feel like spring. “

“ Woah, the king sure is romantic. “

“ Don’t tell him, he would kill me. “ He finally got up. You could not help but keep your gaze on his back. He smiled once he noticed. “ What? Are you going to stare at my butt all day or what? “ “ I was not looking, your highness. You’ve got a nice butt tho. “ “ I know but stop staring.”

After what seemed like a long week of spending time with the prince you finally returned to your own kingdom without setbacks. You felt the most rested since you were his knight and now you saw how long it had been. It seemed short the time it had passed but five month already went by. You were closer to the prince even though there was a small wall between the both of you, the wall you had built in the past.

#jinyoung fluff #jinyoung x reader #jinyoung x you #prince jinyoung #jinyoung #got7 #got7 jinyoung #got7 fanfic #got7 fiction #got7 x y/n #got7 x reader #got7 x you #got7 au

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derireo · 3 years

Text

(like this engine) my heart roars ↦ tasuizu

A joyride ends better than expected.

Tasuku loses control of the reins Izumi had so kindly given him.

「 5k words 」

cw: consumption of alcohol, kissing, sexual tension

Driving down the empty highway late at night was probably one of the things Izumi wanted to do the most in this lifetime when she first discovered how beautiful the city looked beneath the shining stars.

She remembered it like it was yesterday, how the metal railing whipped past her as she drove down the highway towards Veludo after a long day at work, city lights twinkling as if they were beckoning her to come on down.

The wind that fateful night had seeped into the car as her playlist switched to a song that suited the scenery best, blowing the hair from her face.

Green, red, white, blue. Different coloured lights filled the city. The view from where she drove left this feeling of longing to reside in her heart, and it was the lone reason why she had asked Sakyo if they could invest in a new vehicle.

(Of course, her request was turned down.)

She never had the chance to experience such a view again after that, her job not requiring her to go so far out of the city anymore.

She was back to walking around Veludo—not that she hated it, but... the thrill wasn't there.

One time, she decided to run around the neighbourhood late at night to see if it would elicit the same type of elation she felt when driving down that same highway, but to no avail.

Izumi couldn't remember a time when she felt as free as she did when she rolled that window down and let the soothing breeze throw her hair around like it did.

She reminisced the memory of the cool air snaking around her skin in a comforting coil and the roaring wind filling her ears as she sat in the courtyard with a beer in hand.

Very much like that one night, the moon loomed over Veludo and cast upon the town its shimmering glow, stars twinkling.

That sense of longing had come back to caress the narrow shoulders of Izumi as she stared up at the black and blue gradient of the sky and she sat in her own comfortable silence as the crickets chirped. She had her feet propped up on the bench, eyes half-lidded as her mouth pressed at the lip of her can.

The sound of heavy footsteps grazing the grass made Izumi twitch and she turned her head to the side to look at who was still up at this time of night.

The person who stood before her was Tasuku, mouth curled into a disapproving frown as he stared down at Izumi with scrutinizing violet eyes, leather jacket donned with a helmet hanging from his fingers by the straps.

"What are you doing up so late?" He asked.

His scolding tone wasn't enough to make Izumi apologise, but it did make her smile. She took a sip from her can and tapped the metal with her other hand to tell Tasuku just what she was doing.

"Drinking." She murmured, sending the man a wink for no good reason.

Tasuku scoffed when he took a glance at the beer in her hand and then the rest of the cans that sat in a neat line beside her.

"Yeah." He crossed his arms. "I can see that."

Izumi pursed her lips, biting at the edge of her can. "Then why'd you ask?"

It was an innocent enough question and it didn't sound like Izumi was teasing him, but Tasuku still had to bite his tongue to keep himself from getting too upset.

He took a step closer to the director and reached out for the thin shawl she had worn out into the courtyard, roughly tugging the material closer around her body to make sure she was staying warm.

(Hm. She was wearing her sleep shorts though, so Tasuku wasn't of much help anyway.)

He sighed. "You should be sleeping. It's late." At that, he took away the nearly empty can from Izumi's hand to keep her from consuming anymore alcohol for the night. His eyebrows were pinched in mild annoyance, but it was normal to have Izumi get on his nerves without even trying.

"Hey..." Izumi grumbled, not at all fighting to get her unfinished can of beer back. There was no use getting in a physical tussle with Tasuku when he was the one with the advantage of being sober (she wasn't drunk, but tipsy).

"I'm just not tired." Izumi frowned, watching as Tasuku placed his sleek black helmet in her lap to begin collecting the other cans she had accumulated over the span of a couple of hours.

Tasuku spared her an unimpressed glance as he walked away from the bench to drop all of the cans in the recycling bin near the entrance of the courtyard, returning empty handed.

"The dark circles tell me otherwise." The actor sighed and took his helmet back from Izumi, curling his empty hand around her elbow to pull her to her feet. "You're going to bed."

"No way." Izumi complained as she stumbled into Tasuku's side, losing her balance with each pull on her arm.

Her small frame made it easy for Tasuku to move her any way he wanted, but with how Izumi was twisting in his grip made it difficult for him to drag her back inside the courtyard, her annoyed huffs aggravating him.

"This is bullying. I'm being bullied." She hissed angrily.

"This," Tasuku hissed back. "is me taking care of you." He dragged her towards the courtyard doors that would lead her inside the dorm.

"Nooo.... Tasuku!" Izumi groaned as she tripped over the ledge that separated the outside from the inside, her outdoor slippers falling from her feet as her socks slid against the varnished floor.

Her voice was hushed when they made it inside and she glared at Tasuku who was squinting down at her, his hand still tight around her elbow.

"You should go to bed too if you're forcing me inside." She grouched unhappily and pointed at the black helmet that hung from his fingers. "You're what people call a 'hypocrite'."

"I will hurt your feelings." Tasuku seethed with annoyance, too busy quarrelling with Izumi to mind that he was wearing his boots indoors. If he forgets to clean it when he comes home later, he'll just have to deal with the consequences.

Izumi pouted. "My feelings are already hurt. Make it up to me with a ride."

"So that's what you've been aiming for, huh." Tasuku sighed, releasing her arm with a click of his tongue. "Whatever. Go change into something warmer then."

"I knew you weren't going to wear a jacket." Tasuku sighed in disappointment when Izumi came back to the courtyard with an oversized sweater and a pair of boyfriend jeans. She looked tiny and was prone to get cold due to her choice of clothes. He was glad that he had grabbed his grey zip up when he returned to his room earlier.

He stood up from the bench with a heavy sigh and threw the jacket at Izumi, the director fumbling around with the soft fleece until she figured out how to put it on.

"Why do you never take care of yourself?" Tasuku frowned helplessly, noticing that she didn't bring a scarf with her either.

Someone in the dorm would probably kill him if they found out he was the reason why she'd gotten sick.

The crickets chirped as the director shrugged, and the pair walked towards the garage where Tasuku pulled a keychain from his jacket and pressed a button, the whir of the doors painstakingly loud.

Izumi cringed. "Ugh. No doubt that woke someone up." Following Tasuku, she who ducked under the still moving doors.

"Then make quick work and let's get outta here." Tasuku grumbled as he strode towards one side of the garage to grab the unused helmet he had lying around. With a toss, he threw the protective gear at Izumi who caught it with ease.

He jogged back to where she stood with his bike and grabbed his own helmet that he hung on the handle, putting it on after helping his director sit on the backseat of the vehicle.

Kicking his long leg over the motorcycle, Tasuku waited for Izumi to hop on behind him, her body warm against his back as she tugged the chin strap until it was a snug fit.

"Don't let go." Tasuku called out to her as he kickstarted the engine, the motorcycle roaring to life beneath them.

Izumi's arms tightened around his waist like a coil and nodded, keeping herself as close to his back as he could without hindering his movement. "Yup."

She held him tight enough to make Tasuku's breath hitch at the close proximity, but he covered it up by pushing his bike upright with his boot clad foot, kicking away the bar so that he could drive onto the road.

With a delighted sigh, Izumi leaned her head back to enjoy the gusts of wind that blew against her.

The street lamps were dim, but still held enough light for Tasuku's bike to be seen kilometres away, but after a few moments of speed racing it out of the neighbourhood, they weren't visible from the dorm anymore.

The thrill of having to lean to help steer the bike as their knees nearly grazed the ground was something Izumi never knew she needed to experience in her life. It was almost like Tasuku was acting like they were in a race with someone else with how he sped along the road that led to the highway, and Izumi was just gobbling all of the excitement up.

She almost acted on impulse when they drove over a huge hill and caught some air, but Tasuku stopped her before she could.

"I said don't let go, you idiot!" He shouted over the wind that whipped past them, grabbing onto Izumi's hands that nearly slipped from his abdomen.

Izumi was planning on throwing her arms up in the air as if she were on a rollercoaster (you know, like an idiot), but was thankfully boycotted by Tasuku who had a feeling that he knew what she was going to do.

Izumi clicked her tongue and went back to hugging Tasuku's waist, but didn't forget to add a threat despite her obedience.

"If you say that to me one more time, I'll really let go." Izumi hissed through the wind.

Tasuku begged over the sound of his motorcycle growling as they sped up the highway. "Please don't."

"This is nice." Izumi smiled faintly as she leaned back against Tasuku's parked bike, admiring the city that never ceased to work.

The wind blew similar to that night she last enjoyed like this and it brushed her neck like they were fingers tracing the smooth expanse of her throat.

Her eyes closed at the comforting caress and basked in the buzz of alcohol that still seemed to course through her body, hands pressing comfortably into the leather seats of Tasuku's bike.

The actor stood beside her casually, but couldn't help but stare as Izumi's head fell back with a sigh dripping out of her lips.

There was no doubt in Tasuku's mind that Izumi was definitely his type, and the way she looked tonight, dressed in baggy boyfriend jeans with a sweet pastel sweater with cats on the chest just reinforced the thought.

Tasuku didn't notice this before either, but she even wore her round glasses and it made the emotionally expressive part of him inwardly clench his fists.

On top of being an attractive young woman who was the same age as him, she was someone who wasn't afraid of his curt personality and actually quite enjoyed partaking in friendly little fights.

Not to mention, she was definitely a little empty in the head sometimes.

It was cute. Kind of.

Tasuku barely had the chance to resist the adoration that came to soften his features as the seconds passed by with him staring, and Izumi noticed.

Why, the heat of his gaze was intense. It was nearly impossible to ignore.

"You can take a picture if you want to stare." She half-laughed, half-scoffed. Her eyes stayed transfixed on the city below them despite the statement and Tasuku thought it easy to lie that he absolutely was not staring.

"I don't know what you're talking about." He replied and crossed his arms over his chest. He averted the direction of his gaze towards the city just to prove he wasn't looking at her and took in a sniff of the cool air, blatantly ignoring the chuckle that left Izumi's mouth.

"Aw. I didn't say I didn't like it." She smiled, reaching out for Tasuku's sleeve so that she could pull him closer. "But I'm going to have to charge you if you keep looking."

Tasuku sighed.

It was times like these where Izumi threw away her charm without a care.

"I'm not paying you money." He scoffed, gently prying away his arm from her clingy fingers.

"Look at you, making assumptions." Izumi teased. She pulled the sleeves to Tasuku's zip up over her hands to warm her skin and reached for him again, fingers tapping against his hand to get him to look at her once more.

She held onto his pinky to coax his gaze away from the city and she pulled, expression softening to something sweet when his reluctant violet eyes shifted to her face.

He took one step toward her, albeit hesitant, and gave Izumi his signature frown, skin tingling where she touched him.

"I'll charge you one kiss for each minute you stare." She said playfully, but the warmth to her tone told Tasuku that there was a small part of her that was serious.

The man froze.

Uh. Um.

Tasuku shook his head with a bewildered laugh, but didn't pull his hand away from her warming touch, eyebrows pinched together to show the confusion he was feeling.

"No. No, no. You're—you're still drunk, Izumi." Tasuku stumbled over his words clumsily, breath coming out in white puffs as the biting breeze stabbed his lungs and pinched his nose. His ears were heating up like the fireplace back at the dorm as the director gazed up at him with her unchanging smile. It made his heart squeeze.

"If I was drunk in the first place I would have thrown you to the ground back at the dorm." Izumi rolled her eyes. She brushed her thumb over the back of his hand after a moment then released her grip on him, eyes fond.

"It was a joke though. So quit staring at me like I'm crazy." She huffed playfully, pushing the looming Tasuku away by his chest, the warmth he was emanating from being so close making her uncomfortably bashful.

Her cheeks were growing warm and pink, and Tasuku was sure it was because of the biting winter cold, but there was a small part of him that hoped it was because she was feeling embarrassed. He could still feel the press of her hand on his chest even though she wasn't touching him anymore and his knees grew weak, heart racing like a stampede of horses were rattling at his ribcage.

Her little nose was pink due to the cold and her lips were a soft rose, brown eyes shining like tempered chocolate as she gazed at him through fluttering lashes.

Izumi shifted under his prodding gaze.

"....You're still staring." She said awkwardly.

"I thought you liked it." He smiled.

A smile so charming that it had all the air in Izumi's lungs rushing out as his sharp eyes peered down at her.

And— well, yeah. She did say that, but didn't he feel embarrassed at all? He was openly staring at her this time around and didn't even deny it the second time she accused him, smiling as she did so.

She pressed herself firmly against the seat of Tasuku's bike and frowned, keen on putting some space between them.

He was just playing with her, right? He liked to do that sometimes.

The wind blew again and brushed her hair back behind her shoulders, cooling her hot skin. There was steam coming out of her ears as the silence between them grew and for some reason she was unable to make eye contact with Tasuku.

"I'm not counting the minutes anymore." Izumi huffed.

Tasuku sighed.

"I wonder about you sometimes." He mused, stepping forward to cage Izumi between him and his bike, watching as she straightened against the seat and pushed her hands against his chest to maintain some distance.

"I—I don't care. You're being weird." She complained. The heat coming off of Tasuku was nearly unbearable as he trapped her, his hands planted on either side of her against the vehicle they were leaning on.

Tasuku took a deep breath in and chuckled. It wasn't often he got to see such a vulnerable expression on her face, and he was glad he was able to have the same effect on her that she had on him.

"Did Cupid stab you or something? Tasuku—" Her breath was cut short as she quickly brought her hands up to create a barrier between their faces, warm palms covering Tasuku's mouth to prevent him from trying anything funny.

"You didn't even want to kiss me earlier." She hissed, half-annoyed. Not that she was scared that he would or anything, but she'd rather take a dive to Hell than let Tasuku change his mind without a fight. His glimmering violet eyes looked at her with mirth dancing behind his irises and she resisted the urge to bare her teeth in defiance.

"The more I look, the more I notice how adorable you are. Don't think you're escaping me before I get my kiss." Tasuku spoke, saccharine sweet.

His lips brushed over the soft skin of Izumi's palms as he talked and his words would have taken the director's breath away had she not realised that Tasuku was reciting his lines from this one romance play he featured in a few months ago.

"Dude. Obvious actor voice." She frowned.

Tasuku blinked, unimpressed.

"You know I'm not a romantic." He grouched, teeth nipping at the soft skin of Izumi's palm to punish her for being so mean.

"Yeah. Which means it's a little gross when you try to be." She frowned, removing a hand from her barrier to curl around the base of Tasuku's neck. His position wasn't ideal considering their heights, and so she decided to carefully massage her fingers into the straining muscle.

"I would have preferred it happening without you meaning to." Izumi said, honest. Tasuku relaxed beneath her warm touch and huffed out a sigh from his nose, her fingertips digging in just the right spots.

"Noted." He murmured into her hand. His eyes fell shut at the lazy circle of her fingers and didn't even notice when her hand left his face, too busy focusing on the way her cold fingers slowly warmed against his skin.

Izumi found that Tasuku was much cuter when his mouth was closed and it looked like he was getting the massage of his life, making the director laugh under her breath. His eyebrows twitched, and Izumi could feel the rumble of his chest as he hummed with contentment.

There was a moment of silence between them as the wind whistled in their ears, the growling of the cars in the city faint. The sound of the vehicles revving to life made Tasuku's skin tremble with excitement that he subdued with a heavy breath, and Izumi stared at his sharp visage with an intrigued smile.

She dragged a hand through his hair while the other came up to frame his jaw, fingers coaxing his face closer to hers.

Tasuku could feel her cool breath brush against his lips and he froze again, lashes fluttering against his cheekbones as he struggled between wanting to open his eyes and refusing to meet Izumi's gaze.

Izumi paused but kept him close, her thumb gently pressing into his jaw. "Are you okay?"

Her question was nearly inaudible, but loud enough for Tasuku to hear over the wind that soothed his burning ears. His hands shook against the seat of his bike as he clenched his fingers, and he inhaled.

"Yeah."

It was strangled, the way he responded to her, breath stuck in his throat as his senses were filled with Izumi, Izumi, Izumi. The flowery scent of her body wash stuck to her skin similar to how cigarettes stained leather jackets and Tasuku was shaken. The warmth of her hands and the soft skin that pressed into his body made his head dizzy and he so desperately wanted to hold her tight and press his face to her neck.

Tasuku could hear the smile in her mockingly dubious hum and he bit the inside of his lip when her nails scratched along his scalp.

"Tell me what you want." She said. It was more of a request than a demand, but the fingers in Tasuku's hair curled and tugged, urging a response from him.

It was like her attitude did a complete one-eighty and Tasuku was the victim she held in her delicate hands. He had nowhere else to go other than let himself be trapped in her embrace and his arms trembled anxiously, aching to wind themselves around her waist and feel their mouths press together.

He longed for this moment to come and here it was; his ears were burning terribly hot at the fact. Tasuku opened his eyes then to meet Izumi's gaze with his own, and it was like all the air in his lungs was sucked out when he noticed just how close they were.

With their noses barely touching, Tasuku could see Izumi's eyes sparkle with delight, pupils shaking as she searched for the emotions that crashed like waves behind his violet irises. Her lips the colour of a pink rose smiled at him and she lightly scratched his jaw with her nails.

Tasuku took in a deep breath and let his eyelids flutter shut once more, brushing his nose against Izumi's like an affectionate cat. "I want my kiss."

She giggled. "Yeah?"

With a playful scoff, Tasuku tilted his chin forward, just barely brushing their lips together. "Yeah..." He murmured and raised a tentative hand to trail along Izumi's waist, eyes peeking down at her through his lashes.

"I want i—...mmh." He was barely able to finish his sentence, plush lips finding his in a searing kiss that left him groaning against Izumi's mouth. His chest rumbled in a way that told her he was pleased with the situation they were in, and the sound made her lips tingle.

Izumi's palm cradled Tasuku's jaw with care as she pulled him down the same time that she went on her toes, mouth damp and warm while their breaths mixed and became one. To ease the strain in her legs, Tasuku curled a strong arm around Izumi's waist and pulled her tight to his chest, teeth gently catching her lower lip when her fingers down to his biceps and his free hand found the back of her neck.

The heat of her body made Tasuku light-headed, the way she fit against him was everything he imagined and more. Her waist was soft beneath the muscle of his arm and the way her hands explored his arms and neck made him want to sink his fingers into her soft flesh and mark her with his nails and teeth.

With each part of their lips was a desperate gasp for air before they reunited in the middle for another kiss. The subtle scent of Tasuku's cologne nearly sent Izumi into her overdrive as his arm dug into her waist and the shaky moan that left her mouth was swallowed up by the man himself.

"Tasuku..." She whispered shakily, lips abused with each suckle and bite he gave her. The actor gave a low rumble in response, but didn't cease, too high on the feeling of her swollen mouth desperately trying to catch up with the movement of his needy lips.

The evening's cold air was no match for the searing heat the two of them were sharing, Tasuku's fingers sliding through Izumi's hair to comb away the tangles while his burning palm burrowed itself under the layers of clothes she was wearing. She shivered against him as the rough pads of his fingers scratched at her waist and she sighed, hands moving to frame either side of his jaw.

"Mmh... Takato." She murmured again, lips slotting messily with his own as his tongue made a playful appearance. Their breathing was heavy, clouds puffing from the corners of their mouths as Tasuku lost himself in the feeling of her body squirming beneath his ministrations.

"I've wanted this for so long..." He sighed breathlessly, blunt nails scratching up Izumi's ribcage in such a devilish way that left her twitching and gasping. "I don't want to stop."

"First, breathe." Izumi sighed back, coaxing his jaw to loosen by massaging her thumbs into the hinges. She did her best to calm the excited thrum of his pulse by doing this and tipped her chin up to brush their noses together.

With their lips parted for each other, Izumi's tongue met Tasuku's for a brief moment and just the smallest touch brought Tasuku back to his mindless haze.

"Fuck. I'm going crazy." He groaned as if he was in pain and pulled Izumi flush against him, the soft growl of his breathing making the director shake as he licked into her mouth like he was eating his favourite ice cream. He traced every crevice of her mouth with purpose, memorizing how she felt around his tongue as he laved at her canines then her tongue, lapping at the lingering taste of the beer she drank hours ago.

God, it felt like he could do this forever, but he knew that he'd have to stop eventually. And if there was a sign that told him so, it was probably the way Izumi was now whimpering and shaking in his arms, pretty, brown eyes glistening with vulnerable tears as she pawed at his shoulders and neck.

He pulled away slowly, their tongues connected by a thin string of saliva that broke when Tasuku gave her a final kiss. This time it was chaste and the man revelled in the way Izumi melted into his chest and mewled like a sweet little cat.

"You okay?" He asked, gentle as he set Izumi back on her feet and let her lean against his bike once more. He still held her in his embrace as she nodded, and with a light brush of his thumb wiped away their mixed spit from her reddened lips.

"Yes... You monster." She murmured hazily, legs weak as Tasuku's hips pinned her to his bike to keep her upright.

The man chuckled at the weak jab and affectionately kissed her cheek and forehead, still cradling the back of her head while Izumi threw her arms around his torso in a loose hold.

"Did you feel good?" He asked again, smiling when her eyes closed with a nod as he massaged her scalp. He was relieved to feel his pulse go back to its own steady thrum even though it felt like his heart was going to burst and he pressed his nose against her temple to placate the wave of emotion that ran through him.

His lips, warm and damp from the kisses before were now tickling Izumi's ear and with a teasing lilt to his voice, uttered his own honest thoughts.

"Well, you taste good."

Ugh. Izumi wanted to punch him.

With an embarrassed huff, the young woman turned her head to bump her nose into his jaw, still feeling weak even as he pampered her with chaste kisses to her face and his knuckles caressing her cheek.

"There's no turning back from this now." She said after a few moments of him tracing each curve of her face with his fingertip. She opened her eyes to gaze at him through her damp lashes and he paused with admiring the face he'd always longed to hold. "I can't pretend this never happened."

Her wavering voice made Tasuku smile; slightly charmed by the way she thought this was only a one-time thing. She really didn't understand just how much she affected him.

"Wasn't planning on doing that. I want to do this forever." He said, honest. His fingers combed through her hair for the umpteenth time this night and sent Izumi a charming smile.

"I want to kiss you every morning and every night. I want to greet you with a kiss every time you come home and I want to kiss you in bed." Tasuku whispered into her ear, chuckling as she shied away from his ticklish breath.

"Three years. Three years I've waited to find the opportunity to make you mine and here it is."

He hugged her close after his small confession and sucked in a deep breath when he felt her lips kiss his cheek.

"And all it took was a bike ride, huh?" She mused playfully, hiding the fact that her heart was rattling in her ribcage like a bird trying to find its way out. Izumi giggled when Tasuku sighed with a nod and she went on her toes to kiss him once more. Brief and chaste.

"I guess I'm yours now." She shrugged nonchalantly, smiling at Tasuku who stared down at her with hooded violet eyes.

"Then wanna have another go around the city as lovers this time?" The man whispered with a hint of excitement, already reaching out to grab their helmets from the handlebars of his bike.

"Hell yeah, man." Izumi grinned and held out her fist for Tasuku to bump.

Her boyfriend rolled his eyes in a fond manner at her term of endearment but indulged her anyways, knocking their knuckles together before getting Izumi ready for their second joyride of the night.

That's all it took. Tasuku mused as he mounted his bike and felt a familiar pair of arms curl around his waist.

#a3!#a3! act! addict! actors!#a3! fic #tasuizu #izumi tachibana #tasuku takato #tasuku x izumi #a3! scenarios #YOOOOOOO #finally this is done im gonna look for food to eat now

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imagine-loki · 3 years

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Trust, Chapter 17

TITLE: Trust CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 17 AUTHOR: fanficshiddles ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki kidnaps Darcy Lewis, in hopes of getting the tesseract in return for her. Imagine his surprise when he grows rather fond of the mortal, finding that she understands him better than anyone else ever has. RATING: M

Thor and Jane looked surprised when Loki appeared to head to Asgard, with Darcy in tow too with a suitcase.

‘Where’s the Bifrost then?’ Darcy asked excitedly.

‘I did not realise you were joining us, Darcy.’ Thor said, but smiled widely as he then looked at Loki.

Loki grinned. ‘She is going to save me from having to deal with any boring commoners. And will likely lighten the festivities greatly.’

‘Ah excellent!’ Thor beamed happily.

Jane looked slightly irritated. Not overly happy about Darcy going too, knowing the pair of them would likely cause too much mischief.

The group all headed outside onto the green, Thor looked up and called for Heimdall to open the Bifrost. Tony ran out towards them screaming like a mad man at them not to do it on what was essentially his front lawn. But it was too late.

All that was left when he got there was burnt grass again. ‘Bloody Asgardians!’

Darcy was in complete awe as they were whisked through space in the rainbow Bifrost. Then before she knew it, they were on Asgard, stepping into the observatory.

She noted Loki’s arm around her and she looked up at him with a smirk. ‘What’s with the death hold on me?’

Loki rolled his eyes as he let her go. ‘To make sure you didn’t fall out at the wrong place. I don’t exactly fancy spending years looking for you on some unknown realm.’

Darcy shoved his arm playfully. ‘N’awwww you’d come looking for me? How sweet!’

He chuckled and ruffled up her hair in return. ‘I wouldn’t trust you not to cause chaos on some poor unsuspecting race.’

‘Yeah, cause that’s your job.’ She grinned and Loki grinned back at her with a wink.

‘Welcome to Asgard!’ Heimdall said, tearing Darcy’s attention away from Loki.

‘Oh wow, cool sword. You’re the all seeing Himdall, right?’ Darcy asked.

Loki sniggered and bumped her with his hip. ‘Heimdall.’ He corrected.

Heimdall smiled slightly and nodded once. ‘Nice to meet you, Darcy.’

Then the sound of hooves pounding the ground towards them was heard. Odin, Frigga and a guard with some spare horses came riding across the bridge to greet them.

Loki did the introductions for Darcy, since Jane had already met them before. Jane bowed her head to Odin and Frigga, greeting them politely.

Darcy’s mouth fell open as she looked at Frigga.

‘Jesus, Loki. You never told me your mother was so beautiful!’ She said in a slightly high-pitched tone to Loki, then she turned to Frigga and curtseyed. The best she could anyway without actually wearing a dress. ‘It’s so nice to meet you, Loki’s told me all about you.’

Frigga smiled widely at Darcy as she reached out to shake her hand. ‘Nice to meet you too. I heard from Thor that you’re responsible for bringing Loki back to Earth. Figuratively and literally.’ She smiled kindly at her.

‘I kind of am.’ Darcy said smugly, holding her head high.

Loki just cringed awkwardly beside them and put his head in his hand.

‘Although, we didn’t know you were coming till last minute. We don’t have any spare chambers left, so we are in a pickle of where to put you.’ Frigga said regretfully as she looked at Loki.

‘I’ll just bunk with Loki.’

Loki raised an eyebrow at her. ‘Oh really?’ He folded his arms over his chest.

Darcy shrugged. ‘I’m not sleeping on the floor. Besides, we’ve shared a bed before.’

Frigga looked between them both in amusement and curiosity. ‘That’s settled then.’ She said quickly before turning around and heading back to her horse.

‘I am going to have to deal with your snoring for two whole nights?’ Loki groaned.

‘Hey, it’s not going to be a barrel of laughs for me either.’ Darcy said as she poked him.

She was then introduced to Odin. She could feel the tension between him and Loki, it was thick in the air. She didn’t say much to Odin, just bowed her head politely.

The group headed out to the horses and Darcy was handed the reins of one of them.

‘Loks. You better give me a leg up, I have no idea how to ride never mind get on.’ She said as she looked over at him, just as he was about to mount his horse.

‘You mean you’ve never ridden before?’ He chuckled as he wandered over to her and swiftly grabbed her leg, not even checking if she was ready, he hoisted her up and onto the horse.

‘Nope!’ She squealed a little as she sat up straight and gathered the reins.

‘Sit up straight, keep your heels down and don’t tug on the horses’ mouth if you can help it.’ Loki said as he put her feet into the right position and moved her fingers into the right place for holding the reins.

Thor had Jane ride with him on the same horse. She hadn’t ridden before either, even on her last trip to Asgard she didn’t ride.

Loki got on his horse and rode up beside Darcy. ‘Your horse is rather attached to mine, so you don’t need to worry about steering right now.’

Darcy only just noticed a hint of mischief cross Loki’s face, before he suddenly kicked his horse on into a canter. Darcy screeched in surprise as her horse cantered straight after his. Loki laughed as he looked over his shoulder and saw her bouncing around in the saddle, but laughing too. He knew she was perfectly safe on that horse and would be up for a bit of an adventure.

Thor chuckled at their antics as they went racing across the bridge ahead of them, Darcy holding on for dear life.

‘Don’t even think about it!’ Jane said to Thor quickly as she held onto him from behind, he just grumbled in response.

Loki and Darcy were long at the palace before the others were. He helped her off the horse and they made their way inside.

‘Holy shit! This place is incredible.’ Darcy said as she looked around herself with her mouth hanging open.

‘It’s alright.’ Loki drawled.

‘Come on, Loki. I know this place doesn’t exactly bring back good memories, but surely even you can tell this place is more impressive than the compound back home.’ Darcy said as she stopped walking and faced Loki.

He shrugged. ‘I guess so. There are some good memories too, I suppose. Racing Thor on our horses across the land, causing mischief to the maids and guards when we were younger.’ Loki gave a very slight smile that made Darcy smile too.

‘See, there’s always good too. Odin does seem… not so great, but Frigga seems wonderful.’ Darcy said sincerely.

‘She is, probably the only wonderful thing about here.’ Loki nodded and continued walking, Darcy followed.

Loki took her to his chambers. She couldn’t believe the size of the room.

‘Bloody hell, this is like the size of a house back on Earth!’ Darcy said as she looked around, checking out the en-suite too. ‘Am I dreaming? Is this for real?’ She said as she jumped onto the bed in a star fish, but still wasn’t even taking up half of the bed because it was that big.

Loki chuckled and used his Seidr to get the fire roaring to life. ‘Anything you need, just ring the bell by the door and a maid will come to see what you need.’

‘What, like, anything and anytime?’ Darcy quickly sat up straight.

‘Yep.’ Loki smirked, sitting down on a chair by the fire.

Darcy slipped off the bed and ran over to the bell, ringing it twice. Loki watched in amusement as not even two minutes later there was a knock on the door. Darcy opened it and was amazed to see a maid.

‘Good evening, anything I can get you, miss?’ She asked with a smile.

‘Some snacks would be nice please… Loki, what kind of snacks do you have here?’ Darcy looked over her shoulder to him.

Loki smirked. ‘Matilda, if you would be so kind to get us the cheese board selection.’

‘Of course, Prince Loki.’ She gave a small bow and smiled at Darcy before disappearing down the corridor.

Darcy stuck her head out of the room and watched her heading off. ‘Is there really someone on standby all the time? Even in the middle of the night?’

‘Yep. Cooks are always in the kitchen too, ready to make whatever you want. Within reason.’

She then snickered. ‘Prince Loki.’

‘What?’

‘Just funny hearing someone call you that. I forget you are a Prince.’

‘Maybe you should start remembering it.’ Loki grinned.

While waiting for the snacks, Darcy disappeared into the bathroom to put on her comfortable pyjamas, which was actually a Rolling Stones t shirt and plain black shorts, just in time for Matilda retuning with the biggest selection of cheese Darcy had ever seen, with crackers and some grapes too.

‘Oh my god, this is definitely heaven!’ Darcy climbed onto the bed with the board and got comfortable.

‘You’re not eating on my bed.’ Loki stood and made his way over, but Darcy was already tucking in.

‘Come on, chill out. Are you going to join me or not?’ Darcy patted the bed next to her.

Loki rolled his eyes. He knew that there was no point arguing with her, so he decided to just admit defeat and join her.

After stuffing themselves full, Loki read for a while by the fire while Darcy played a game on her iPad. There was no WiFi but she was still able to use some game apps without. She was so engrossed in one game she never noticed Loki disappear into the bathroom, until he reappeared.

‘Lights are going off, I want to get rest before tomorrow’s antics.’ Loki said as he made towards the bed.

‘Not like you to need ohhhhhhhhhh my god! LOKI! PUT SOME DAMN PANTS ON!’ Darcy screeched as she glanced up at him, only to see he was completely nude. She quickly averted her eyes like they were burning.

Loki smirked as he got into bed. ‘What? You are the one who said you would share a room with me. I told you before I sleep in the nude.’ He chuckled and got comfortable. He turned the lights out with a snap of his fingers.

‘Well don’t blame me if you get kicked in the bollocks in the middle of the night.’ Darcy said as she rolled onto her side and put her iPad down.

‘Goodnight, Darcy.’

‘Goodnight, Prince Loki.’ She teased, but that earned her a poke in the back. ‘Owww!’

‘Go to sleep.’ He growled.

‘Bossy boots.’ Darcy grumbled quietly.

#Loki #God of Mischief #Submitted fic #submission #trust #chapter 17 #fanfichiddles

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discountedmuses · 3 years

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(( So i guess since I'm just speaking into the void here, lemme give a bio on who these people actually are so they can maybe gain some interest on them or somethin’.

SO, This is Kane Sinclair! (Unsure if Kane is his actual first name, but that's what he's called)

(Art by @/vodon-doctor) Kane is a crime lord ruling over the majority of a city called Riparia (vibes similar to New York and Los Angeles). He’s a werewolf/shifter who can transform into an anthropomorphic fox with wings at will. He's currently 42 years old, standing at a solid 6′4″, has 2 adopted sons named Nickolai and Percival who he picked up when they were children and lives and operates from a huge hotel like building simply known as the Sinclair Building. He's used to the finer things in life, living comfortably in the lap of luxury and enjoys a nice suit, cigars, and good liquor.

While he currently lives a very extra life, he makes sure the people working for him are treated well and with respect no matter how little the job may be in comparison to the whole scheme of his operations. Though he lives lavishly now, he is no stranger to getting his hands frequently dirty with keeping other small time gangs in line or if anyone dared try to cross him. Safe to say, he’s a bit of a workaholic and tends to forget to care for himself food and sleep wise from time to time. Kane is pansexual and a switch with not much preference. People usually see him as a top given his power, and to an extent it’s true, but he does enjoy letting someone else take the reins from time to time.

Now lets move on to his bodyguard, Carnage! (Unsure if that’s his real name as well, but that’s what he goes by for now)

(Art by @/vodon-doctor) Carnage is a werewolf/shifter as well who can shift into a huge 10+ foot tall partially blind wolf with a stomach mouth, his human form bearing a large scar across his abdomen. His form is much more unwieldly so he only shifts in the case of an emergency. Carnage is 48 years old, stands at 7′5″ and has been working with Kane in his business for over 15 years. To Kane’s sons, he’s more of an uncle figure rather than a second dad, but he did have a hand in raising them.

Being a bodyguard, and having previous experience being a bouncer for clubs, he’s very much the muscle of the operations when needed. He’s saved Kane and other members of the organization on numerous occasions from shoot outs or even assassin attempts, so it’s safe to say he’s seen alot and been through alot. Carnage is pansexual and is surprisingly a switch, but with a sort of default top lean since well.. not many people had really asked to top him, but he’s open to it. Not many people see this huge muscle of a man and think he would ever wilingly bottom for anyone lol.

A n d, I think I can shove Percival in here too, so lets go over this asshole of a lad

(Art done by myself) Percival Sinclair, or Percy, is the younger of Kane’s 2 adopted children. He’s a werewolf/shifter who can shifted into an anthropomorphic striped hyena. He and his older brother, Nickolai, were picked up off the streets by Kane when he was around 8 years old and is currently 24 and stands at 5′11″ (He’ll say 6′). This little punk gets into all sorts of trouble with not only his family, but with pretty much anyone who crosses his path funny. He’ll pretty much try to pick a fight with anyone unless he’s trying to fuck. Cocky, arrogant, and full of himself, he is never too far from causing a scene.

He steals alot of his hardass looks from Carnage, having looked up to him alot growing up and wanting to be tough and strong like him, but comes off as a wanna-be more like it. Percy is also 100% the type of person to say he’s not gay (He’s bisexual) and will only top cause his ego is fragile as hell, but there are occasions he has bottomed before, but he’ll never talk about it openly.

A n d, I believe that’s a good enough intro for them! ;w; lemme dump some art of them here to give some more f l a v o r

Art done by @/cowboyologist also featuring @/vodon-doctor’s character, Octavius in the last sketchpage

Anyways, hope you guys enjoy them ;w; I’ll certainly be writing them on here sometime soon, I just gotta think about how to shift this blog around to make it multimuse and to keep Victor around somewhat lol Be on the look out for a starter call for them! <3 I would love to start some threads with any of these fellas, honestly ;w; ))

#ooc #mun speaks #zach speaks #kane sinclair #carnage #percy #percival #oc #ocs #original character #bio #kane and co #if literally anyone reads this #ill be so happy

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addictedtoeddie · 4 years

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The full Esquire Spain interview translated from Spanish:

Eddie Redmayne trial: guilty of being the most talented (and stylish) actor of his generation

The Oscar winner talks about what it means to premiere a film with Aaron Sorkin (The Chicago 7th Trial on Netflix) and filming the new part of the most famous saga of all time under the watchful eye of its author, J.K. Rowling.

By Alba Díaz (text) / JUANKR (photos and video) / Álvaro de Juan (styling) 10/23/2020

At the Kettle’s Yard Gallery in Cambridge, stands alone and leaning on a piano Prometheus, a marble head made by Constantin Brâncusi, and the only piece of art that Eddie Redmayne (London, 1982) would save from possible massive destruction. He tells me about it as he leaves the filming set of the third installment of Fantastic Beasts in the early days of an autumn that, we suspect, we will never forget. It begins to get dark as the actor nods seriously: "I promise to do my best in this interview."

Eddie Redmayne made himself in the theater despite some voices warning him that he could not survive in it. "Many people were in charge to tell me that it would never work, that only extraordinary cases make it and that I would not be able to live from this professionally." Even his father came home one day with a list of statistics on unemployed young actors. Redmayne, who is extremely modest, polite and funny, adds: “But I enjoyed theater so much that I got to the point of thinking that if I could only do one play a year for the rest of my life… I would do it. And that would fill me completely.

Spoiler: since then until today he has participated in many more. He set his first foot in the industry when he debuted at the Shakespeare’s Globe Theater and won over critics and audiences. He then landed his first major role in My Week with Marilyn opposite Michelle Williams. And then came one of the roles of his life, the character he wanted to become an actor for, Marius. With him he sang, led a revolution and broke Cosette's heart in Les Miserables. “I found out about the Les Misérables auditions when I was shooting a movie in Illinois. Dressed like a cowboy. I picked up the iPhone and videotaped myself singing the Marius song. I always wanted to be him ”.

Now Redmayne is an Oscar winner - thanks to his portrayal of Stephen Hawking in The Theory of Everything - and the protagonist of one of the most important sagas in history, Fantastic Beasts. He plays the magizoologist Newt Scamander in it. When I ask him what it means to him to be the protagonist of a magical world that is so important to millions of people, Eddie sighs and takes a few seconds to answer. “I have always loved the Harry Potter universe. Some people like The Lord of the Rings or Star Wars ... But, for me, the idea that there is a magical world that happens right in front of you, that happens without going any further on the streets of London, that. .. That exploded my imagination in another way.

During the quarantine, J. K. Rowling, who has been in charge of the script of the film, sparked a controversy through a series of tweets about transgender women. Redmayne assures that he does not agree with these statements but that it does not approve of the attacks of some people through social networks. The actor was one of the first to position himself against Rowling alongside Daniel Radcliffe, Emma Watson and other protagonists of her films. "Trans women are women, trans men are men, and non-binary identities are valid."

After having spent a while talking, Redmayne confesses to me that he has never been a big dreamer not to maintain certain aspirations that ended up disappointing him. So he has always kept a handful of dreams to himself. One of them was fulfilled just a few weeks ago with the premiere of The Trial of the Chicago 7, a film written and directed by Aaron Sorkin that can already be seen on Netflix and in some - few - cinemas. “I was on vacation with my wife in Morocco and the script arrived. I think I called my agent before I even read it and said yes, I would. She probably thought the obvious, that I'm stupid. After that, of course I read the script, which is about a specific moment in history that I knew very little about. I found it exciting and a very relevant drama in today's times. "

And it is that having a script by Aaron Sorkin in your hands is no small thing. Eddie Redmayne has been a fan of his work ever since he saw The West Wing of the White House. “His scripts have delicious language and dialogue. As an actor, it's fun to play characters that are much smarter than you are in real life. That virtuosity is hard to come by. I really hope that audiences enjoy this movie and feel that there is always hope. " He remembers that since he released The Theory of Everything he has recorded, to a large extent, English period dramas, “and although the new Aaron Sorkin is not strictly contemporary,” says Redmayne, “to be able to wear jeans and shirts and sweaters instead of so much tweed is great ”.

Besides acting, art was the only thing the actor was interested in, so he ended up studying Art History at Cambridge University. “My parents are quite traditional and when I told them I wanted to act they gave me free rein but on the condition that I study a career. And I'm very grateful for that because ... Look, beyond that, when I play a real character I usually go to the National Portrait Gallery in London quite often. There I lock myself up. Now, for Sorkin's film, I went through a lot of photographs and videotapes. Art helps me to be more creative, to get into paper ”. If he were not an actor, he would be, he says decidedly, a historian or perhaps a curator. "Although I think he would be a very bad art curator."

Against all logic, Eddie Redmayne is color blind. But there is a color that you can distinguish anywhere and on any surface: klein blue. He wrote his thesis on the French artist Yves Klein and the only shade of blue he used in his works. He wrote up to 30,000 words talking about that color with which he became obsessed. “It is surprising that a color can be so emotional. One can only hope to achieve that intensity in acting. "

Like his taste for art, which encompasses the refined and compact, Redmayne seems to be in the same balance when it comes to the roles he chooses. When I ask him what aspects a character he wants to play should have, he takes a few seconds again before answering: “I wish I had a more ingenious answer but I will tell you that I know when my belly hurts. It's that feeling that I trust. In my mind I transport him to imagine myself playing that character. When I read a script I have to really enjoy it. You never fully regret those instincts. It's like when you connect with something emotionally. "

So we come to the conclusion that all his characters have some traits in common. "You know what? I never look back, and this is something personal, but I do believe that there is a parallel between Marius in Les Misérables trying to be a revolutionary, someone who is quite prone to being distracted by love but at the same time is willing to die for his cause, and Tom Hayden from The Chicago Trial of the 7 who was a man who had integrity and was passionate and fought for the things he believed in. So I suppose there may also be similarities between a young Stephen Hawking and Newt Scamander. There are traits in common in all of them that I don't really know where they come from ”.

When we talk about the year we are living in, in which it is increasingly difficult to find hope, we both let out a nervous laugh. "There must be," Redmayne says. “There is something very nice that Tom Hayden, the character I play in Sorkin's film, said to his former wife, actress Jane Fonda, just the day before she passed away. He told her that watching people die for their beliefs changed his life forever. In that sense, I also think about what Kennedy Jr. wrote about how democracy is messy, tough and never easy ... As is believing in something to fight for. I look at history and how they were willing to live their lives with that integrity to change the world and I realize that somehow that spirit still remains with us. " We fell silent thinking about it. "There must be hope."

I tell him about my love for Nick Cave's blog, The Red Hand, and one of the posts that I have liked the most in recent weeks. In it, the singer affirms that his response to a crisis has always been to create, an impulse that has saved him many times. For Redmayne there are two activities that can silence noise: drawing and playing the piano. “When you play the piano your concentration is so consumed by trying to hit that note that you can't think of anything else. Similarly, when you draw something, the focus is between the paper and what you are trying to recreate ... There I try to calm my mind.

Before saying goodbye, I drop a question that I thought I knew the answer to, but failed. What work of art would you save from mass destruction? "How difficult! I could name my favorite artists but still couldn't choose a work. Only one piece? Let me think. I am very obsessed with Yves Klein, but I would stick with a work by Brancusi. There is a sculpture of him, a small head called Prometheus, in Cambridge's Kettle’s Yard, on a dark mahogany piano. The truth is that I find it very ... beautiful ”.

Before leaving, he confesses to me - with a childish and slow voice - that he would like to direct something one day. We said goodbye, saying that we will talk about his next project. Next, the first thing I do is open the Google search engine. "P-r-o-m-e-t-h-e-u-s". Although Eddie Redmayne has trouble distinguishing violet from blue, he doesn't have them when choosing a good piece. He's right, that work deserves to be saved.

* This article appears in the November 2020 issue of Esquire magazine

Source: esquire.com/es/actualidad/cine/a34434114/eddie-redmayne-juicio-7-chicago-netflix-entrevista/

#eddie redmayne #esquire2020 #esquirespain2020nov #esquire spain #chicago7promo #chicago7interview #interview2020 #photoshoot2020 #juankr #my translation

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