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#reader-insert
generalsmemories · 8 months
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48 hours.
✧ jing yuan x gn!reader
✧ synopsis: did time always pass this slowly before?
✧ word count: 3.5k
✧ contents: established relationship, mentions of other characters, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, spoilers for the 1.2 main story! + a very sorry attempt of writing angst lmfao
✧ a/n: i better see my man waking up from the best sleep he's ever had next update, i ain't accepting anything else. but until then you guys will get whatever this is because Jing Yuan is literally the definition of sleeping beauty throughout 90% of this piece.
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The smell of seawater is prominent the closer you get to the statue of the former high elder. The waves seemingly roaring their praises for the Vidyadhara male before you who once again parted them to reveal a palace buried beneath them.
You're still able to see the waves crash down onto the shore, the force of the impact so harsh that your shoes are drenched.
The troops behind you seem to be in awe, whispering amongst themselves as you make your way up the stairs. Fu Xuan seems to notice you almost immediately, to which you give a curt bow before looking over to Jing Yuan whose hardened expression seem to soften slightly upon seeing you, "General, the reinforcements you've requested are here," you relay, glancing behind you to gesture the other Cloud Knights to position themselves behind the two that was behind Fu Xuan.
"Splendid, Lady Fu?" Jing Yuan turns his attention back to Fu Xuan who straightens up a bit, your eyes sweep over the people behind him. The trailblazer and their companions either giving you a curt nod or an energetic wave upon seeing your attention on them. Only one male diverts his attention elsewhere when his eyes locked upon yours. You can however see him give you a curt nod when he glanced back at you, "Remain here - lead the Cloud Knights in defense of this passage. We must prevent further incidents."
Your eyebrows furrow, but before you can utter a sound Fu Xuan takes a step before you in alarm, "Jing Yuan- General, are you planning on facing Phantylia alone?"
Your mind blanks the moment you notice what he's planning to do, but as the plan has already come this far any complaints you would have would fall on deaf ears. You can merely bite back your words and look away from him - Jing Yuan does take notice of this, but he has no time to console you, merely sparing you an apologetic glance as if that would lessen the sudden reveal of his plans.
You only turn your attention back towards the stairways leading down once you start to hear bustling around you, already noticing Fu Xuan address some Cloud Knights - but she does glance at you and cock her head to the side towards the retreating group with a small smile.
Almost as if saying: "We never know what might happen, say what you want to say now instead of regretting it later."
He's walking considerably slower than the rest of the party, and you let out a scoff at how he even predicted this, "Jing Yuan." you call out, and your lover turns around with the same easygoing smile he always gave you whether it was during a meeting at the Divine Foresight, on the training grounds of the Cloud Knights as he sparred with Yanqing or at the comfort at your own private quarters.
But he doesn't move from his spot - "Yes?" he asks softly, foregoing the petnames he usually addreses with you, a silent hint as to what sort of situation the two of you find yourself in.
"... I expect you to return safely to your troops, general." you merely say, before mouthing silently: "And to me."
Jing Yuan doesn't give you a nod, he merely laughs with a smile before turning around and descending down the stairs.
The next time you saw him, he was being carried by Dan Heng, not even conscious to hear your call for him.
HOUR 3
It took an hour to haul him to to Miss Bailu's place, the smaller vidyadhara's eyes widening upon seeing his unconscious self being carred by another Vidyadhara of all things.
And as much as you wanted to stay by him, there were more immediate pressing matters to handle. You had practically begged the high elder to take care of him, sputtering whatever you were informed before Bailu were forced to sit you down to make you relax.
You were offered a cup of her herbal tea before you continued on your way, taking one last glance at Jing Yuans' resting form before you rushed out to take care of your home in his stead.
HOUR 12
The ink brush in your hand is barely moving at this point, the tip of the hair dipped with the ink having made an extended black dot on the paper scroll you were currently writing on. You glanced over to the side from your place at the desk, watching with rapt attention Jing Yuans' chest falling up and down - an indicator that he was alive and breathing.
You're pretty sure you've observed his condition more than you have gotten any work done in the past few hours. The intial plan was to go the Divine Foresight to take care of the duties that would be left behind with the abscence of the General personally because at that point you would be easily accesible to the public. But just after an hour or two, Qingzu had contacted Fu Xuan to inform her that you were in no right mind to currently focus.
Thus you were tasked to stay home or work from the room where Jing Yuan was resting by Bailu's clinic - Fu Xuan had merely parroted back what Bailu had said to her which was to let Jing Yuan wake up on his own terms, he didn't seem to be affected too strongly by Phantylia's attempt to turn him into a voidranger, and Bailu was currently in the process of finding out more.
"You wouldn't want him to wake up to the entirety of Xianzhou and yourself in disarray do you? If anything the moment he does he would sure wish he was back asleep," she had tried to joke, to which you only responded with a dry laugh.
You glanced towards the clock again, you don't know how many times you've done it, 7:28 AM. it had gone 9 hours since? Why did it feel like it had gone days?
You let out a sigh, settling yourself to sit beside Jing Yuan and brushing a hand through his hair, "How come you even made me forget the concept of time for us?" you mutter. 9 hours was usually nothing for you - nor for him. 9 hours was a lot for a short-lived species, but for you, it was just 9 hours.
It was just supposed to be a few hours.
So how did 9 hours suddenly feel a lot longer?
HOUR 24
There's a quiet knock at the door that jolts you awake, the sudden sound amidst the quiet room makes you jump from your seat at the desk, your knee colliding with the surface underneath the desk.
It doesn't hurt of course, but the person behind the door can hear your quiet curse, "Come in, Yanqing," you utter a few minutes after, and when he opens the door he's met with scene of ink spilled all over the desk and dripping down the floor.
"... Lady Bailu wouldn't be very happy about that mess, you know?"
You merely dropped a handful of paper towels down on the floor and set the ink bottle straight again, taking a seat by the bed and gesturing for Yanqing to settle on the floor in front of you. The boy doesn't utter a word as he passed you the bandages and first aid kit he had gotten from one of the attendants.
"You know you don't have to come all the way here to just get your wounds dressed up, right?" You remind the lieutenant, but at the back of your mind you're well aware the reason why Yanqing keeps coming back, "But thank you."
A couple of minutes pass like that, Yanqing kneeled on the floor as you set up everything, the distant tick-tock of the clock reverberating by the lieutenant ears.
"It doesn't hurt as much anymore, right?" you ask while undressing the bandages currently adorning his head, "It never hurt at all, who do you take me for, [Name]?!" he scoffed, crossing his arms and turning his head to the side harshly - immediately regretting said decision with a pained whimper.
You chuckle, brushing out his hair before starting to wrap the bandages around his head again, "You and that idiot really like to throw yourselves head first into danger, hmm?" you muse quietly, Yanqing's posture immediately stiffening at the mention of the general still unconscious beside you.
"He's not mad, is he?" Yanqing asks quietly after you've tied a knot, leaning his head back to stare at you. The mere question makes you laugh even more, "He was already aware of what you were planning to do, he could never be severely disappointed in you," the response made the younger boy let out a sigh of relief.
"... Are you mad at him?" Yanqing asks in the end, the boy having already made himself comfortable against you, twisting his body to lean his arms on your left thigh. Propping his chin on his arms that rests against your thigh, he takes a long look at Jing Yuan before directing his gaze back to you. He patiently waits for your response, but you can only blink back at him in wonder before your gaze turns towards Jing Yuan.
... Were you angry?
HOUR 32
"You're not gonna rot in this room with him of all things, [Name]." is the first thing Fu Xuan says the moment she slams the door open. You are for once, not cooped inside the clinic room, but outside by the balcony staring down at the Xianzhou people go on about their day with a cup of herbal tea in your hand, merely giving her a glance with a raised eyebrow.
"I'm very much not rotting inside there, Lady Fu. Bailu wouldn't let me either. Please give me a bit more credit than that," you say with a sigh, placing the cup of tea down in front of her before taking a seat opposite of her, "I'm just concerned is all, is there any news from Lady Bailu?" you question, the divination commissioner shaking her head, "Other than her confirming that the general should really just be deeply asleep, she hasn't found anything yet. But he did take a lot of wounds and hits during that fight from what I was informed, it's amazing there's nothing more than that."
A moment of silence passes, the only sound is the clinking of ice cubes against your glass while you swirled the tea around.
"That's the thing."
"Pardon?"
" There should be something more happening to him than just being bedridden needing a nap! He was almost turned into a voidranger of all things, Fu Xuan!" you shout, the fragile composure that you had so desperately tried to hold up cracking in just a few hours. The divination commissioners' eyes widening in surprise at the sudden outburst.
If the past you could've seen the state you were in now, they would've laughed at you. Even now you find yourself pathethic. Because it is pathethic, you've been through worse situations that lasted for weeks, months and even decades.
But somehow, seeing your beloved in such a position and unable to do anything when you usually were able to just cracks down on every purpose and belief you've held yourself to.
"He didn't want help, he didn't ask for help when he had the chance! He went into that battle expecting to not come back alive at all, but with purpose to bring that ravager down with him! And of course he would, it's Jing Yuan! He will lay down his entire soul and being, his life to protect the Xianzhou through another crisis - just like every other problem that could've risen to a crisis in the past centuries!" you cry, Fu Xuan can see that even with the outburst you're still trying to keep yourself sane, your knuckles turning white from gripping the corners of the table before you.
"The only thing I shouldn't have to worry about is when he's going to wake up, Fu Xuan. That worry shouldn't have to be my only concern with his condition," you mutter in the end. A few minutes pass by in silence, not because Fu Xuan didn't know what to say - moreso because she was aware that you weren't looking for comfort.
So she lets the few minutes pass before you raise your head with a smile. It's a smile she is well aware is forced: "Why don't we take a stroll outside then? I think Bailu would jump in joy if she sees me out of the room too."
HOUR 45
Fu Xuan realized how efficient you truly were whenever you didn't have to appease a touch starved general. A glance at the desk when she first arrived to drag you out showed her results of your hard work under 24 hours which was the finished and marked scrolls that was supposed to be sent to her - in addition to more "trivial" paperwork left behind at the Divine Foresight.
No wonder Marshal Hua was reluctant to let you go when Jing Yuan had first proposed to you.
And Fu Xuan will be damned to let said general also be your downfall.
So for the next 13 hours after that, you were somehow visited by numerous people who were in need of some minor help - that be the trailblazer looking immensely out of place as they asked you for some obvious facts about the luofu to Yanqing dragging you out to the training grounds to finally have a chance to spar with you again.
That girl really can't show concern in the normal way, can she?
A futile attempt to relieve your mind of endless worry - but an attempt nonetheless which makes a soft smile graze your lips. You sent a quick message to Qingzu to send a few Cloud Knights to guard the perimeter of the house before heading out the door once again.
If you knew the Cloud Knights well enough, they would already be running over - and sure enough you were greeted by enthusiastic greetings by them after merely taking a few steps away from the porch.
Fu Xuan merely gave you a deadpanned look when you arrived at the Divination Commission, "What, weren't you the one who wanted to distract me from worrying so much?" you asked with a grin.
"Yes, but I meant it in a way to relax your body and mind, not overwork yourself to exhaustion."
"Just humor me this once, Lady Fu."
Fu Xuan huffed, turned around while nagging at you. She didn't comment on the way you were clenching your fist so tightly that blood seeped out from where your fingernails were digging into your palm.
Love truly was a dangerous feeling.
HOUR 48
Jing Yuan felt like his whole body was underwater. It was hard to move, and even harder trying to open his eyes. There's a dull ache spreading through every vein in his body - a feeling he had gotten used to thanks to numerous battles, but with so many centuries of peace he was not liking how taxing it truly was.
Blinking his eyes open, he was met with an unfamiliar ceiling, but inside an environment that he was somewhat familiar with whenever he felt like skipping work.
Trying to heave himself up proved harder than normal, the man letting out a groan as he supported both hands on the bed to drag himself up to a sitting position.
He was covered in fresh bandages, so either Bailu or another attendant must've been inside a few hours before to change them. One look around the room gave him a rough idea on what has been going on.
It's been roughly 2 days since the battle with Phantylia, the new addition to the desk by the corner piled with scrolls and textbooks indicate that you've been by his side ever since he came back.
And lastly, although his whole body is hurting and moving even a muscle sends shockwaves of pain through his body, he was still very much alive.
"Bailu I've already been chased around for 13 hours to prevent from being inside there, I just want a break. No it's fine I don't need a bed I'll just sit by the balcony again - yes I'll call you if I need anything, don't worry. Really it's fine -" The fake cheer in your voice immediately stops up when you turn your head away from Bailu and into the room, but instead of being seen with the same scenery as you've gotten used to in the past 48 hours, you're staring straight into Jing Yuan's open eyes - the man himself only cocking his head to the side with a smile.
"Good afternoon, dear."
He can tell Bailu has already hightailed away to grab her things, which leaves him alone with you. You, who hasn't even moved a single muscle since locking eyes with him. Jing Yuan can see your mouth move in attempt to say something and that the hand on the door handle is trembling slightly.
"... What, you're not happy to see me?" he tries to joke, but the moment he sees your eyes flicker from surprise to anger he knew it was a bad joke to tell, "I'm sorry-"
"Sorry? You're sorry?!" you seethe through clenched teeth, still having enough rationality to not yell inside of a clinic of all things, even closing the door gently before marching into the room.
You don't even reach out to him, and Jing Yuan doesn't have the energy to reach out for you.
"You sure weren't sorry when you kept all of those plans to yourself and walked down that staircase with half a mind of not returning," you point out, and Jing Yuan can only give you the same easygoing smile he gave you that very same day.
"... Why? Why is at the most crucial moments that you want to do everything alone? Why won't you lean onto someone for once, why must you do everything in secrecy but at the same time be so open?" you question, every worry and fear just pouring and Jing Yuan let's you speak.
And even when his whole body hurts, he reaches out to gently grab your wrist to pull you down to sit by the bedside. He's aware that you could've easily stood your ground, because he's much too weak to actually force you to do anything.
And yet you're so pliant, sitting down close enough for him to wrap his arms around your waist and rest his head against your shoulder, "... 48 hours isn't a long time for our people," you breathe softly after a moment of silence, "But those 48 hours where you didn't even turn around one single time nor make a single movement? It was almost the worst 48 hours I've experienced so far."
"And I hate it, why have I let you reduce me to something so vulnerable and I can't do anything about it?! Why have you gone against everything you first promised to me?!" Your voice is gradually getting louder, but Jing Yuan doesn't comment on it.
"I'm sorry," he mutters again, and you only scoff, "You're not sorry, I know you're not. If something like this happened again I know you would do the exact same thing."
You know him too well, and that's what also scares him in the end.
Because if you weren't so high on emotions right now and just took a moment to think, you would realize that if you were in the same battlefield as him things would not go as smoothly - to either one of you.
It was better for him to be alone right then and there - because if Phantylia had even seen one weakness from him of all people it would've reduced the already slim chances of them winning that battle to zero.
If Phantylia had even decided to target you, he knew he wouldn't be able to keep his rationality inside - because you have him wrapped around your finger more than you realize.
Every regret and painful memory he has experienced have started to pale when he compares to every joyful moment you've given him. So if you were to perish in that fight for him and for the Xianzhou? Jing Yuan would've truly lost against the battle of time.
He's selfish, for once he wants to be selfish because he's chosen to not be in every waking moment of his life - so he wants to be selfish this once and rather take a gamble with his life than toy with yours.
"I'm sorry," he whispers once again, a hand reaching out to cup your cheek, the general chuckling when he feels a stray tear his his thumb. He leans back to watch you, a guilty look crossing his features at your slightly reddened eyes.
And yet you're glaring at him in anger, but Jing Yuan is so relieved that you're still there with him.
So he leans in with no hesitation, pecking the corner of your eyes while whispering that he's sorry after every peck, his thumb pushing down on your lower lip to stop you from biting your lips so harshly, "I truly am," he whispers, silencing the bubbling sobs coming from your lips with his own.
He is sorry. And he hates the thought of you hurting, because both of you had gone through enough. But he would rather that you go through 48 hours of pure torment for him than taking the risk of losing you completely.
His love for you is selfish like that, because if he wasn't selfish he would be too vulnerable.
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redamancy-writes · 1 year
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Jealousy on the Boardwalk (The Lost Boys 1987 x Female! Reader)
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Word Count - 1036 Fandom - The Lost Boys 1987 Pairing - Poly! The Lost Boys 1987 x Female! Reader Title - Jealousy on the Boardwalk
Jealous - fiercely protective or vigilant of one's rights or possessions.
“All of these attractions, and I can’t help but keep my eyes on you, sweetheart,” You felt like you jolted out of your skin as Paul was suddenly behind you, his hands snaking around your middle as the rest of the boys approached. 
“You scared the hell out of me,” You laughed as he pulled you into him, Paul’s face diving into the crook of your neck to pepper kisses against the flesh. 
“S’rry,” He murmured against your skin as each of the other boys approached to give you their own greeting. A kiss to the knuckles, a devilish grin and a kiss to your nose, and an appreciative glance over your form before a gloved hand cupped the side of your cheek and kissed the other. 
“What do you boys have planned tonight?” You asked as Paul kept you locked in his arms, feeling particularly affectionate tonight, while the other three surrounded you two. 
“Some rides, some food,” Marko grinned as he pointed to the newest addition of the Santa Carla boardwalk. It was a thrill ride, and you couldn’t quite make out the name as the neon lettering was too far for your eyes to fully focus on, but you could hear the screams of terror and resounding laughter of groups of friends as it took them through it. 
“That looks like fun,” You mused, a gasp leaving your throat as Paul decided to begin to nip against your flesh. “Paul,” You muttered in warning as he laughed before pulling away. 
“C’mon, let’s go,” Marko pulled you free from Paul’s grip.
“Hold on, hold on,” You laughed as he started tugging you towards the ride, “I think I need to hit the bathroom first, then go on the ride.” You explained as he looked at you with a confused expression. 
“Knowing you four, it will be hours before you’ll want to take a break,” You tossed a knowing glance to Paul as he was already antsy to get going, ping-ponging off of Marko’s energy. 
“I’ll meet you all over there,” You pecked Marko’s lips before you were disappearing into the crowd, David’s eyes watching over you until you entered the public bathroom. 
“C’mon, I’m going to grab a slushie,” Marko nudged Paul, the two making their way to the treats stand, Dwayne and David resting against the handrail, eyes wandering the crowd as they waited for your return. 
-
“Phew,” You wiped the water on your hands off on your jeans as you left the bathroom, the hand dryer not doing a damn thing to dry your hands after washing them. Eyes scanning the crowd, you grinned as you made eye contact with Dwayne, his lips quirking into a grin as you began to approach only for a wolf whistle to catch your ears.
Dwayne’s expression morphed into a glare, gaze drifting to your left as the Surf Nazi’s whistled and called at you. 
“C’mon hot stuff, you bounce on those biker’s dicks all the time, you can give us something!” You felt heat crawl up your neck as you ignored the group, biting your tongue as you moved past them to get towards David and Dwayne. 
You blocked out their voices as you kept your gaze on David, only for a reaction to be forced out of you as a loud smacking sound brought your attention back to the group. The sting on your ass came after. 
“What the–”
“What the fuck did you just do to our girl?” You didn’t even see Marko and Paul, but now Marko had the bastard up by the collar, their noses nearly touching. 
“C’mere,” Dwayne pulled you to him, facing you away from the group. You didn’t want nor need to see what those three were about to do.  “Let’s go get you a drink, hm, maybe a milkshake?” He was seething, hands trembling with rage but he kept it under wraps as you heard a sickening crunch while he led you away. 
As the two of you sat in the booth, you swirled the straw around the milkshake, briefly letting your gaze flick up from the creamy beverage to Dwayne’s face as he stared out the window, eyes flickering back and forth. 
“You okay?” You broke the silence, making his attention snap from the window to you. 
“You’re asking me that?” He grinned at you, “How about we reverse that question, how are you? Are you okay?” Dwayne reached a hand over, interlacing your fingers with his. 
“Meh, I’ve been better but I’ve certainly been worse- but I do have a milkshake so,” You shrugged while smiling, “I just hope the others are alright,” You frowned. 
“You worried about us, doll?” David questioned, just now adjusting to putting his gloves back on as they entered the diner. 
“Always,” Your eyes flickered over each one of them, your frown deepening. Marko had a split lip, always being the one to jump in head first into fights, and you could tell Paul had gotten several good hits in, knuckles bruised and blood caked on them. David, you couldn’t tell, but you figured the gloves were now not for a personal style choice, but to ensure you wouldn’t worry. 
“What happened when we left?” You knew what happened, or at least had a general picture, but you couldn’t help but ask. 
“They got what was coming to them for touching our girl,” David said simply as you scooched further in the booth for him to sit next to you. Paul took his place next to Dwayne as Marko pulled up a chair to sit at the edge of the table. 
“They won’t be bothering you anymore,” Marko gave you a smile as he leaned his arms against the table. 
“Oh?”
“Not if they want to live,” Paul muttered as he grabbed a menu off the condiment caddie. David’s eyes flickered to Dwayne while he put an arm around your shoulders, a raised brow sent his way while Dwayne subtly nodded in response. 
They had more business with those Surf Nazi’s, but for now there were more pressing matters, such as getting you fueled up and turning this night around. 
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lexsssu · 7 months
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Sweet (Totsumoto Yuushi)
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TAGS: Yuushi/F!Reader, smut, breeding, impregnation, some plot Ao3 ver.
Iɴ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜᴜsʙᴀɴᴅ ғɪɴᴅs ᴛʜᴇ ɢʟᴏᴡ ᴏғ ᴍᴏᴛʜᴇʀʜᴏᴏᴅ ᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴜᴛᴛᴇʀʟʏ ɪʀʀᴇsɪsᴛɪʙʟᴇ.
Totsumoto Yuushi had been down on his luck ever since the recession had forced his former company to let go of him. Applying to other companies also yielded no results, so he was stuck moving from part-time job to part-time job.
However, it wasn’t all that bad.
Before he’d lost his former job as a salaryman, he’d met cute little you.
Soft, fragrant, and probably the sweetest cinnamon roll he had ever come to meet in his entire life. 
You with your saccharine smiles and genuine warmth and concern for some random older man you’d met (he passed out on the side of a dingy alley, having drowned himself in beer after being forced to do some more unpaid overtime).
You could have simply ignored him back then because he would have woken up some hours later with a hangover and got back home relatively in one piece.
But you didn’t.
Out of the goodness of your heart, you managed to drag him back to your own apartment and had him settled on your sofa-bed. Hell, you even went as far as laying a blanket on him and putting a pillow that was softer and smelled nicer than any pillow he’d ever used beneath his head.
“Good morning. I just made breakfast if you’re feeling hungry,” your melodic voice greeted him as he sat up, somewhat disoriented and wondering where the fuck he’d ended up after passing out last night.
But speaking of breakfast, Yuushi feels his stomach grumbling as the scent of freshly cooked rice, eggs, toast, and bacon permeated around the homey apartment. 
“If it’s not too much trouble…” 
“Please, help yourself. I made more than enough to share!”
And for the first time in a very long time, he finds himself sharing a home-cooked meal with someone. Even if you were virtually strangers, he already feels much closer to you than anyone he’s currently acquainted with.
Yuushi goes home with his stomach full, heart warm, and your number on his contact list.
︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶
Contrary to popular belief, he does not sleep with you the next time you two meet up (which was at a popular cafe where he finds himself mesmerized at the sheer happiness you exuded just from tasting the pastries and one of those creamy, fruity drinks). 
He does his best to ignore the way the thick, white cream decorates your lips before you lick it off with your pink tongue.
Nor does Yuushi sleep with you even after every time you hang out after that.
He doesn’t do anything to break the ‘platonic’ friendship you two share, because he is so starved of human connection that he finds these moments with you more than enough…for the time being, that is.
Besides, how can he even dare to prey on cute little you, when you blushed so prettily when he so much as placed a hand on your shoulder or on the small of your back as he steered you somewhere?
You certainly deserved better.
A dirty old man like himself isn’t worth your attention and affection if you asked him.
But then he loses his job, fails to find a new one, and continuously fails to pay rent at his old apartment.
Just when it feels like his entire world is crashing before his very eyes, there you are again with a hand held out to him.
“You can stay with me for as long as you need to.”
Yuushi doesn’t hesitate, nor does he hold himself back anymore.
︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶
“I want to impregnate you. Gonna make sure my cock keeps kissing your womb like this.”
With your legs wrapped around his waist and your lower body practically folded in half to accommodate the heavy weight of the older man’s body, Yuushi is as deep inside you as he could be. And just like his words, the tip of his cock keeps bullying the entrance to your womb in this position.
“I'll take good care of you and all the little ones we’ll make, I promise.”
The way your insides practically choke his dick with just a few words renews his stamina, and so you both lose yourselves in a haze of pleasure just before the first rays of sunlight peeked through the blinds.
︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶
You become Mrs. Totsumoto not too long after, and the both of you move outside Tokyo to manage the strawberry farm you inherited from your grandparents. While your husband does most of the heavy work, especially as your pregnancy progressed, you still helped around with light housework and making different kinds of products with the strawberries you produced.
Aside from the fruits themselves, your humble farm also made strawberry jam, milk, strawberry ice cream, etc. You also had contracts with several businesses, supplying them with your high-quality products.
All in all, business was booming and life was good.
︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶
At a newly opened inn somewhere in Japan, the new owner received this week’s shipment of strawberries as his otherwordly wife peeked from behind him.
“Ooooooh, this new batch of strawberries from our supplier is especially tasty today! Would you like to try some K-ko?”
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curatoroffiction · 1 year
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What You’ve Hidden Part 2
This is a continuation of a story I started writing in response to a post made here. (Which is where you’ll find Part 1 of this story) This is based off of @underqualified-human’s post on their “? Yuu AU” concept, and was really fun to write! I definitely love harassing Crowley. I know I write a lot of anti-Crowley propaganda, but I fuckin’ love his character. He’s such a slimeball and I love it. XD Storytime stops before Idia’s chapter because it hasn’t been released to the English version yet.
----- Story is reader-insert, gender-neutral, and is also a continuation of an existing chunk of story I already wrote. The boys discuss how much they really know the Ramshackle Prefect. That is, until the prefect arrives on the scene and begins to explain themself.
----- The conversation quickly moved from a lighthearted conversation about the Ramshackle prefect to a cautious journey embarking through the group's delicate notions of trust.
"I don't buy it - ___ can't lie. They're too honest." Ruggie shrugs. He's never seen you lie in a way that mattered. You were always so straightforward with him and everyone else in Savannaclaw, even when it probably would've benefitted you to lie. "They're not a goody two-shoes, but they sure aren't about to pull off a scheme."
Jamil on the other hand is now rethinking everything he knows about you. "On the contrary, I've found them to be quite.. Crafty, when they needed to be." He shakes his head thinking back to how you so easily would sneak out of containment prior to his overblot. How you could escape and even collect help. He starts connecting the dots on how you always seem to know just where to look or who to talk to in order to collect help. One could say it's fate, but it was hard for him to believe in fate after meeting you.
"... They *are* capable of lying.. Lying well, at that.." Riddle murmurs, not comfortable with the conversation's route, but incapable of stopping himself from treading into these waters as people talk more about it. "When Ace and Deuce want something kept hidden, they're very good at hiding things from people." His brow furrows as he thinks on the last dorm inspection.
"Well that at least tells us they're loyal to their friends!" Kalim smiles big, refusing to fret. "And that's all I need to know to enjoy their company."
"Are they loyal to their friends? Or are they just loyal to their resources?" Azul once again steers the conversation into the depths.
"Friends! If they were just looking for power, they wouldn't have helped Ace and Deuce when they got in trouble with you, right?" Kalim cocks his head to the side, looking to Azul with genuine confusion. It wasn't hard to imagine what motivated you in his eyes.
"Mmm.. I'm not so sure about that." Jade starts delving into this thought exercise. "Through those two, ___ got a chance to interact with Riddle, which dragged him into their scuffle with Leona - Which was the primary reason it wasn't a disaster. Leona helped with Azul, Azul helped with Jamil, Jamil helped with Vil, and so on..." Many of the dormleaders had never heard of the intertwining threads of their interactions with the prefect, or how perfectly it all seemed to meld together.
This starts to garner some genuine concern, causing even Malleus and Kalim to think on the coincidental nature. It's a little too perfect.
The guys are quiet as they feel themselves consumed with the idea that you might actually be a complete stranger. Someone who has come so close to them all, snaking your way in with ulterior motives. However, they each process the concept very differently.
Riddle just flat out refuses to believe it. He thinks Azul's being paranoid and that you'd have no real reason to lie to him. And even if his overblot put you off from him, you'd have no real reason to lie to Ace and Deuce. No, Azul's the one being paranoid here, and he won't get dragged down with it.
Trey feels like it's a nonsense consideration. Even if you weren't genuine when you first met everyone here, you surely warmed up with time - Isn't that just how being a social person works? No one puts all their cards out on the table without reason. He's got no reason to doubt you.
Leona on the other hand, lets his mind dance on the edge of the idea. He'd seen firsthand how you can change your tune if you need or want to. You're not above forcing people's hands, but.. You also don't really subscribe to the "Work smarter not harder" mantra that it really takes to scheme. You put too much effort into the things you do to be someone who isn't, on some level, genuine. Still, he underestimated you once, and doesn't make mistakes like that twice.
Ruggie on the other OTHER hand figures there's no reason to worry. Hell, he's fake as hell when he wants to be. As far as he's concerned, everyone's got a grift, and it'd be nice to hear you had one too. Even if your friendship was founded on a lie, he doesn't care. You've never treated him like he owed you, and you saved his life from Leona lashing out at him. As far as he's concerned, that makes you someone worthy of respect at the least.
Jade himself doesn't really care either which way. He likes you and is amused by you, but whether you value him as a friend or not matters very little to him. If he wants to deal with you, he will. He doesn't need an invitation or prior rapport. Still, he likes to think he knows you well. Even if he doesn't know your real name, he knows how to poke and prod you to get desired responses, and at the end of the day, isn't that enough?
Kalim's bothered by the prospect. He shakes his head outright refusing to even consider a world where you were disingenuous. Still, his mind thinks on Jamil. Someone he's held dear to his heart since he was a very young child was able to fool him and use him and control him. ... He doesn't like the idea that there could be secrets you keep from him. Still, if you do have secrets, maybe there's a good reason for it. Maybe you're afraid? Or you just need a safe place to open up? Maybe he just needs to be a better friend.
Jamil furrows his brow in thought. He'd overlooked you once, only to be surprised, and much like Leona, he doesn't make that mistake twice. But unlike Leona, he has to care as far as Kalim's wellbeing is concerned. He doesn't think you'd ever do anything to hurt Kalim, considering you once tracked him down to give him treasure that Kalim tried to sneak to you. If you were in it for the money, you'd have never done that. Plus, there were plenty of times that you could have hurt Kalim by now and you didn't. If you were some kind of physical threat, you'd have struck by now. But if it's a power grab, what kind of power triumphs over money?
Vil's not intensely bothered by the idea of you using every tool in your arsenal to collect strength. If you really were so quietly calculated, it'd be something to applaude. A fake smile here, a warm grin there, you're bound to make useful connections. It's no surprise to him that you were able to make useful connections that echoed forward. He finds himself annoyed with Azul's persistence on the matter, figuring that Azul himself has been bothered by this and is now trying to make it everyone else's problem. People often try to project their insecurities onto the people around them.
Rook on the other hand is delighted at the prospect. If you suddenly showed yourself to have a side that even he couldn't see coming, what a rush that would give! Maybe he should poke and prod you more. Maybe he needs to test the waters and see what really makes you tick? People often let the most real facets of themselves surface under pressure..
Idia already had like 20 fears centered around dealing with people going into this conversation - Most of which had to do with them lying to him already. This machiavelean web of social warfare that Azul is painting just gives him a headache. It's like when the business man thinks he's onto something in boardgame club and just won't relent. Idia may not have a high social self esteem, but he knows Azul well enough to not let this get under his skin. At least, that's what he tells himself. It's hard to not be bothered by the idea, but he won't get taken for one of Azul's wild rides.
Ortho's only bothered by this line of conversation because it implies that you could lie in a way that tricks his censors - And that just isn't like you at all! But any attempt to protect your good name is just met with Azul shrugging and saying 'Anything is possible, I suppose.'
Malleus is the only one who is really torn asunder by this conversation. At first, he was offended that anyone could think that way about you, being your fiercest protector in the matter, but then it hit him that you've always been a bit weird. You've never been scared of him - Was that an act? How could he ever really know? He knew he wasn't just a means to an end, but he had no clue if you befriended him genuinely or not. Did you really not know who he was when you met? Or was that a ploy? Whatever the case could be, he's gutted at the idea that you could be anything less than a friend.
Lilia isn't bothered by the idea. He pretends to be someone he isn't all the time. It's good fun! Even people who've spent their lives hiding their true selves in favor of a false self give away truths. He is, however, bothered by the dark look on Malleus' face coupled by the thunder of the rolling clouds outside. "I mean, everyone has something to hide, don't they, Azul?" His tone is more pointed, as though he'd uncover Azul's secrets for all to see if he answers incorrectly.
A shiver runs down Azul's spine at Lilia's sharper gaze, surprising him with the reaction. ".... Yes, but when someone knows all of our secrets, shouldn't we get to know at least SOME of their's?" He looks to the others to back him up, but isn't getting much help.
He can't be the only one bothered by this, right?
---
The group is deep in thought when you arrive. You step into the room and all eyes are on you. Grim gulps from your shoulder, looking at all the staring eyes. Even he can't ignore the palpable energy of the room. ".. Did we miss somethin'?" He asks tentatively.
Azul takes the lead, snaking his way beside you with a big smile. "Of course not! We were just discussing how we don't seem to know anything about you, ___. Tell us about yourself?"
You take a glance around the room, which seems to confirm Azul's claim that the room is waiting for you to talk about yourself. "...." You blink. ".. What do you wanna know?"
"Well, your name, where's it come from? What's it mean? Tell us about it."
Your eyes narrow as you look at the businessman, who laughs off your suspicions. With Azul, there's always an angle. They must've had a bet about your name. Your eyes relax as you look around the room of your friends. Riddle looks annoyed with the octopus man. Trey gives a quiet shrug like 'I dunno why this guy is being weird'. Leona looks more annoyed with Azul than he does with you, but Ruggie seems interested in hearing you explain your answer. Azul is frevently awaiting an answer, Jade making his biggest creepiest smile to the side as his eyes won't budge from you. Kalim looks somewhere between distressed and excited. Jamil looks like he's trying his hardest to look indifferent, but you know by the way he glances at you that he's invested in your answer.
Vil actually moves to shoo Azul away from your shoulder as he takes over the conversation. "Azul's been 'kind' enough to express that we don't know much about you or where you came from. You came here so abruptly, and you had so little to your name in ways of protection. It's still an amazing mystery to us as to how you adapted so well." Quite the improv actor, Vil smoothly transitions you into the conversation with the grace of a socialite. While he's not bothered by the idea of you being cunning and cutthroat, he IS bothered by the idea that Azul might slip up and make it appear as though the entire group is worried. Besides, any chance to get to know you better is a gift.
Rook smiles delightedly as Vil takes over. If there's anything you're hiding, they'll surely be able to sense it. "Ah yes, Trickster, you fascinate with how otherworldly you are! Please tell us more about yourself. How DID you acclimate so well?"
Idia feels sick to his stomach. More social nonsense is piling up. And on the one day Ortho convinced him to come in-person to one of these meetings. He can't just check out and play a game as things are heating up, so he's stuck just looking visually awkward and avoiding your gaze. Ortho looks determined, but happy to see you. He waved when you first came in, which signaled everyone that you were there in the first place. Now that things are getting weird, he's just excited to have a chance to monitor your vitals while you're under questioning, so he can prove to the others that you're not lying.
If you're lying, he'll know.
Malleus looks like he's stuck in his own head and upset over something. Deep in thought - When he finally looks to you, his eyes melt a little and the storm temporarily relaxes. Lilia's more concerned with how strong Malleus' reaction to this than whatever you could possibly hide from them. He does find it amusing that he could scare Azul with just a judgemental glance though, and files that away as something fun to do if the young octopus man's antics cause Malleus or you grief. He's got thousands of years of judgemental dad looks stashed away for such an occasion.
"Well, uh.." You're not sure what question to answer, so you just answer Vil's because he's less creepy about it. "I just did what I could to survive. I'm as surprised as anyone that I've been able to last this long." And it's true - Everything you've done has been on the fly. Ever since arriving in Wonderland, you've found yourself in increasingly strange circumstances. You shrug, sorry that you don't have a better answer.
"But surely, you must have had something - Skills you've relied on, plans you've laid out. Things that helped you survive through the messes you've encountered?" This time, it's Rook speaking up, trying to coax more out of you.
"Not really, no. I showed up and had a flaming monster thrown at me, I held him up by the scruff of his neck and Crowley dubbed me as his handler. I was given a job as a janitor, and I'd have done it just fine, but Grim wasn't having it and threw a fit. We got in trouble for it and got a bigger workload with Ace. Then he dragged Deuce into the mess and we all got expelled.." You recount your first week here at Night Raven College.
No one ever really heard the story of what happened when you got here before.
You were a janitor? Crowley didn't let you be a student? But you came through the mirror! You couldn't even go home! The frustration of the fear that you're anything but genuine slowly bubbles away as they begin to find themselves annoyed with Crowley and his handling of the situation.
"If I got expelled, Crowley was gonna throw me out, and I had nothing, so I had to do what he told me to in order to stick around. We went to the mines, fought an overblot monster that seemed ancient, and got a magestone to replace the one we broke. From there, I was pretty ride or die for Ace and Deuce." You shrug.
Azul isn't having it though. "That explains why you got involved when they had trouble with Riddle, by why did you get involved when Savanaclaw was scheming?" He won't forget that you've somehow endeared everyone here to you.
"Crowley showed up at my door and told me to figure out why students were getting hurt. When I told him 'Nah', he blackmailed me with my food budget."
The room's stunned to silence.
".... Crowley.. *blackmailed* you?" Riddle's the first to speak up, and he's appalled and pissed. That whole ordeal was incredibly dangerous! He knew Crowley was slimy from time to time, but you didn't even have magic! That goes against several regulations!
"With your food budget no less.." Trey looks disturbed. Ruggie's big grin from earlier is gone.
You shrugged once again, desensitized to the idea. "I didn't want to get involved, but then I had to."
None of them can sense a lie off of you, but they're all listening attentively. They need to know more. How do the threads of fate connect you to them?
"What about after that? You didn't really need to help Ace and Deuce when Azul's plans came to fruition." Jade now speaks up, curious. "Surely, if you were scraping to survive at that point, it would have been easier to just ignore and let them fall to their own stupidity. It would even be a great lesson for them, yes?"
"I wasn't gonna get involved that time either - You're right, they deserved a lesson. Even Grim got in trouble there, but I was so tired at that point."
"So what happened??" Kalim asks eagerly, moving closer to listen, like his ears can't hear you if he can't see you well enough.
"Crowley again. Said faculty couldn't get involved because Azul wasn't technically breaking any rules, and he needed the problem fixed. Once again, I told him no and he threatened my housing security."
Malleus' eyes narrow. The storm outside is slowly building again, but this time for a very different reason. Azul feels sheepish. At every turn, you were being threatened and forced into involving yourself in the lives of the other students. So then why were you still so friendly? Ortho's eyes have gotten frustrated at the idea of what you're telling them. He's visibly upset. Rook is stone silent as you have every ounce of his attention.
"And with Jamil..?" Ruggie jabs a thumb in the direction of the long-haired boy from the sands.
"Crowley told me I had to keep the school's heating running while everyone was away, and I barely was able to remind him to get me food for the winter break. Even then, he held it as a reward I had to earn. He gave me a cellphone in case there was an emergency, but the damn thing was on the worst possible plan, and he never picked up when I called him. Kalim invited us to the dorm for a feast, and Grim and I were so hungry that I decided to let him treat us. When we got there, we got roped into everything.."
"But you escaped. You could have just stayed away at that point." Jamil finally speaks up, remembering the events. He's embarrassed by his actions, but he needs to know why you came back.
You throw a thumb towards Azul. "Yeah, but I only escaped because I accidentally flew the magic carpet into Octavinelle, and Azul made me take him back because he had his own agenda. I didn't wanna be indebted to him for the damage the carpet did, and I didn't trust him enough to return the carpet safely, so I begrudgingly obliged and got roped into bullshit again."
Azul looks embarrassed as once again the attention's all on him. This conversation is more exposing him for his shady bullshit than you for yours.
Luckily, he's saved by Vil speaking up once again; "With my.. incident - You were pushed into it by Crowley again, yes?"
"Yeah. Your troupe needed a place to stay, and my dorm was the only one equipped for it. I wanted to stay as far out of your way as possible, but it was kind of impossible when I was named as the manager and you knew where I slept. You whipped everyone into shape, and even pushed me to do my best, lest I find my snacks.. uh.."
"Tampered with as punishment." Jamil nods, remembering the spell Vil had been using. You were in a tough situation, and once again you made the call that allowed you your best chance of survival.
---
Before you can explain anything further, a familiar voice can be heard.
---
"Hello my gracious students! Thank you all for coming to this meeting!" Crowley has finally arrived. Half an hour late. He opens his eyes from his delight to find several people staring at him with malice. He blinks and gulps down his nerves. "... I seem to have missed something." ----- If you like stories like this, check out the rest of my collection in my Masterlist on my profile, or check out my stuff on AO3! https://archiveofourown.org/users/CuratorOfFiction
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mirnilop · 7 months
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𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝑜𝓁𝑒 𝒹𝑒𝓋𝒾𝓁 𝒸𝒶𝓁𝓁𝑒𝒹 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 ˚₊·͟͟͟͟͟͟͞͞͞͞͞͞➳❥ wally darling
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⚠ tags: sfw, mob au, yandere!wally, gn!singer!reader, power imbalance, discussions of violence
♡ synopsis: you’d be surprised how many fans you accrue as a small-time lounge singer. while this is usually a good thing, one of yours happens to rule half the city, so he isn’t exactly receptive to the word “no”.
♡ word count: 5,310
⛧ミ‧*・゚ the following content may be triggering to some. please proceed with caution! ・゚*‧ミ⛧
a/n: hello!! ₍ᐢ.ˬ.⑅ᐢ₎ goshh, my very first post on this acc!! i haven’t posted fanfic in a hot minute but i’m suuuper excited to get back into it!! 💞 i have sooo many wips for this fandom, it was difficult to choose which one to finish first! credit to @/clownsuu for creating the au and for the lovely art!! i tweaked the concept a wee bit so that it takes place in a roger rabbit-esque world where puppets and humans live together unharmoniously (with a jessica rabbit inspired reader ofc >v>). it was a lot of fun trying to marry wally's canon personality with a Scary Mob Boss (*´ 艸`) i can't wait to post more!! what are y'all's favourite aus? let me know!! ・*・:≡( ε:)
There’s a rose on your vanity.
The sight of it snuffs out your high spirits, irritation igniting in its place– and it was such a good day, too! You and the girls were perfectly in sync for your entire performance, bolstered by the unusually affable audience; you even rewarded them with a sneak peek of new material, which made them go wild!
Dreams of stomping it beneath your heel stew in your head as you drop it in the faience vase at the rim of the mirror, where a crinkled, beige-tipped rose droops against the rim. Why not break the vase too? An idea that’s crossed your mind too many times, and while it gets harder to resist with each flower, you endure it. They’re presents, after all, and you doubt your admirer would take kindly to the news that you’ve trashed them. You’re certain one of his minions would obtain the evidence, if not witness you do it; you can’t pinpoint the extent to which they survey you, but the crawling sensation of eyes on your back crops up often, and obviously they have no problem barging into your dressing room to play delivery service.
Sighing, you comb through your rolling rack to pick a suitable outfit to change into. Most of the articles hanging are also gifts, but you’ve made sure to keep some of your own hard-earned clothes here out of sheer spite. A burgundy cashmere number has just slipped into your grasp when the door bursts open.
“How’s that for a show?! And what a great crowd, a whole buncha dolls! Or– well, puppets– and humans! Hahaha!”
Lottie skips in with her usual energy, the bell on her collar jingling alongside the clack of her Mary Janes. You hate that their manager mandates the bells as a part of their costumes, as if puppets being treated like second-class citizens wasn’t enough. “You wanna make money or not? It’s part of the appeal! You know, Mary Had A Little Lamb and all that!” is what he told you after one of your countless tirades regarding his treatment of them, but the sleazy smirk wrapped around his cheap cigarette allowed you to read between the lines. As much as you despise that man, it’s not your business to judge the trio for staying contracted with him. Mottie’s recalled to you how difficult it was to hire a manager at all, and you suppose you have to (begrudgingly) thank him for bringing them into your life, since he’s the one who bagged them the backup singer gig.
A swell of color in your peripheral lets you know that she’s come near, but you don’t bother diverting attention from your search. This is such a common occurrence between you two that pleasantries are no longer required.
“And they were mighty generous with the tips! So me and the gals was thinking we should go somewhere to… celebrate…”
Hearing her trail off, you turn to find her staring at the new rose, her once-perky ears fallen limp. You click your tongue, remorse prickling your heart, though you’ve done nothing wrong.
“I’ll be alright, Lottie. Here,” You grab a wad of bills from your personal tip jar and fold them into her hand. “You take your sisters somewhere nice, my treat. As an apology for having to skip out tonight.”
When she doesn’t move from her spot, merely pouting at you with big, glistening eyes full of concern, you swaddle her in a hug. Fleecy strands of shell pink hair tickle your nose as she nestles her snout into your shoulder, squeezing you like a lifebuoy. Having her in your arms is a vital reminder as to why you continue to put up with everything. Lottie, Dottie and Mottie are your beloved friends– your family when you had none– and you are willing to do whatever is necessary to build a life with them.
“Are ya sure?”
“Positive. And if that bug gives you even a whiff of trouble, you come get me right away, got it?”
She laughs, the sound a balm to the ache of your worries. “He never gives us any trouble– n’fact, I haven’t heard ‘im say a single word!”
“Good. At least one of them has manners. Now go have fun!”
After a few more hugs and a promise to relay your apology to her sisters, she trots towards the entrance. Halfway through it, she pauses.
“Promise ya’ll play nice?”
An involuntary grimace twists your face, which you smooth immediately.
“I was planning on it,” you concede, earning an exhale of relief from Lottie.
“Thanks. Honestly, I’m kinda worried...” She leans against the doorframe, gaze trained on the checkered floor. “I see more and more of that Napoleon-wannabe’s goons lately. Do ya think he’s gettin’ antsy? It’s been real quiet since that incident with Dorelaine.”
Ah, the incident. It happened a handful of months ago; he refused to go into specifics, but what you’ve gathered from his gnomic recount and various news stories is that their rival organization– led by Ronald Dorelaine, a human man– planted explosives somewhere important, racking up thousands in damages and dismembering several puppets, left to be mended with those horrific stitches. You didn’t receive another rose until several weeks afterwards.
“I can’t be sure,” you admit. “He doesn’t tell me much about the goings-on of the ‘family’, not that I care to know. But I noticed he’s been more wound up lately… maybe they’re going to retaliate?”
A visible shudder travels through Lottie, and she tosses her head as if to ward off the gravity of your predicament. It was easier to ignore the implications when there wasn’t an active turf battle.
“You’re right, we should stay as far as we can from that nasty business. Wear the red, then. To butter ‘im up a little.” She offers you a conflicted half-smile, most likely holding herself back from proposing a makeover, before sidling out the door.
Glowering, you follow the advice, shucking your tight, shimmering stage outfit for the cozy cashmere you were eyeing before. Like I need to be reminded of his favorite color. I’ve practically lived in red since I met him. It inexplicably fits like a glove, as do all of the clothes you've been bestowed; for the sake of your sanity, you prevent yourself from delving too far into that subject.
As you fix the little bits of your appearance that got mussed up during your performance, you can’t help but contemplate hiding in your room until morning, even though you know it wouldn’t work– and you’d have to pay for a broken front door. Once every speck of lint has been removed and your ensemble is flawless, you steel your resolve with a hard look in the mirror. If things go south, at least you’ll make a gorgeous open casket.
You step into your shoes and out of the dressing room, swiping your bag and a matching hat from the plethora that dangle on knobs affixed to the wall along the way. The haze that eternally permeates the lounge envelops you as you walk, no longer springing tears to your eyes like it did so long ago, when you were a starry-eyed fledgling. Upon entering the foyer, you call out to the owner, Gene, who’s counting the register behind the bar.
“Hey, I’m heading out!”
“Geez, you’re in a hurry! Got a hot date or what?”
“Something like that,” you breathe, your nerves relighting tenfold now that you’re so close to the outside.
“Ahh, I getcha.” His amusement is clear, construing an innuendo within your words that is absolutely not there, but you’d rather die than clarify. “You did a great job today, you deserve it!”
Somehow, your admirer has managed to limbo directly under Gene’s nose; thus far he’s made no indication that he’s aware he has a very important patron. For a moment, you observe him, and see how he absentmindedly rubs the pocket of his button-up– where a polaroid of his two children is safely tucked away– and you decide that it’s probably for the best.
“Thanks, Gene. Have a good one.”
“You too!”
His reply barely reaches you as you cross the threshold from the comfort of your work into the cold, pensive night. A luckier soul may have suffered a fright when greeted with the colossal figure standing below the street light, carved with shadow, but it’s a familiar sight to you now. An inconspicuous black car is parked behind him.
“Hi Howdy.”
“Evening, Mx.” He bows slightly, whisking open the sleek passenger door which you reluctantly slide inside.
“I wish you’d stop calling me that. I do have a name.” It’s true. Being addressed formally by such an important figure imbues you a with a sick feeling, like he’s won, and you’ve already been initiated into this fucked up institution.
Though he waits for you to finish speaking before shutting you in, he doesn’t grace you with a response; not that you were expecting one. In all the times he’s escorted you to these duress-dates, as you’ve taken to calling them, he’s remained stoic to a mechanical degree, acknowledging your presence and nothing more. Thrashing, crying, screaming– you’ve tried everything to escape, and have never elicited a reaction more severe than that of a tired parent handling a tantrum. If you resist, he simply manhandles you. It’s hardly a fair match, with him having 4 arms and several feet of height on you, so you opt to reserve your energy for dealing with his headache of a boss.
When he hauls his many limbs onto the driver’s seat, the car lurches, too small to accommodate a puppet of his stature; he has to hunch forward to see the windshield, antennae pushed flat. You lean back and vacantly turn towards the window, wondering if cars big enough for someone like him to drive comfortably even exist while the engine rumbles to life.
The umbrous cityscape passes you by, inklings of humans and puppets flashing in and out of the darkness like ghosts. Thick boughs of red and green tinsel are strung across a few lamp posts, but by the end of the season they’ll all be covered. Dottie’s already triple checked that you and her sisters have one day of the annual Christmas market off, even though you strike the same deal with Gene every year; the four of you get Saturday, then he gets Sunday to take his family. It’s one of your favorite times of the year, if only because you get to experience the aura of wonder that enlivens Lottie when the first snow falls, Mottie’s timid wheedling to attend The Nutcracker, and Dottie’s alphabetically-organized checklist of fun winter activities.
Those cheerful thoughts are wiped away as Howdy turns into a private garage attached to a sleek, angular skyscraper. He parks in the spot nearest to the entrance, the first in a row of spaces labeled with metal “Reserved for Staff” signs, and circles the car to let you out. The sensation of him gingerly lifting you comes with no alarm; he always assists you up the concrete stairs leading to the elevator, as if you’re so physically inept you can’t handle 3 tiny steps. You assume his needless precaution is for the same reason he hasn’t beaten you yet despite defying him so often: boss’s orders.
With a reedy knell, the elevator glides open, and Howdy signals for you to go ahead. Once you’re both inside, he inserts a key and presses the button for the uppermost level. Expecting a noiseless ride, you tune into the low muzak emitting from the speakers, which makes you miss the first time he calls you.
“Mx.”
Startled, you swivel towards him. His steadfast profile is unreadable.
“Boss doesn’t know you’ve opposed him so vehemently in the past. Please keep that in mind tonight.”
The entrance broaches before you can interrogate him as to what the hell he means, granting you entry to a luxury penthouse laved in gold, ivory, and– of course– red. A glimmering chandelier suspends from the ornamental ceiling, bathing the antique furniture in an amber glow. If you hadn’t just ridden up the elevator, you would have assumed such a lavish drawing room belonged to an old mansion.
It’s something straight out of a romance novel, except instead of a chiseled, broody Italian, it’s a short puppet sitting at the marble-topped dining table. He lounges at the head in a slate blue silk suit with its jacket buttoned to the top; an honor seemingly reserved solely for you, because it’s the only way you’ve seen him wear it, despite street tales describing the way it billows from his shoulders as he stalks the town. Revealed by its plunged neckline is the collar of a white dress shirt embossed with rainbow pinstripes, and a red ascot neatly tied and pulled askant around his throat.
Wally Darling, in the felt: kingpin of The Neighborhood, and resident thorn in your side.
When you arrive, he rises to meet you, dismissing Howdy with a pointed glance; you’ve learned that the relationship between a crime lord and his loyal bandog transcends language. You watch him as he leaves through a pair of swinging doors to the left, his cryptic advice-slash-warning heavy on your mind.
And so, you find yourself alone with the most dangerous man in the city– puppet or otherwise.
“Good evening, dearest. I hope my gift found you well.”
The concept of personal space might as well be Greek to Wally, since he hasn’t once respected it from the day you had the misfortune of making his acquaintance. He crowds so close that you have to crane your neck to see his face, the heat emanating from him eliciting shivers in your chill-soaked body.
“Yes, thank you. It was quite a lively night,” you chirp, wielding a civil smile.
Although the contours of his wispy, coiffed curls only reach your ribs, he extends his arm to you, which you take with such a featherlight hold that you barely brush his sleeve. Rather than leading you to the dining table like you expected, you’re guided towards a small lounge area to the side, the crackling croon of Billie Holiday wafting over from a refurbished stereo console in the corner. Oh, great. He’s feeling sentimental.
“Would you indulge me with a dance before dinner?”
Don't have much of a choice, do I?
“I’d love to.”
Dancing with Wally is funny, in an ironic sort of way; it certainly caught you off guard the first time he asked. When you envision dancing with a powerful, deadly mobster, you think of being swept away, wrapped snugly by strong arms and a dastardly smirk, or perhaps something more courtly, like a waltz steered by a polite hand on your waist. Turns out both versions are incorrect.
Muscle memory ushers your arms open, and Wally falls into the space in between them– literally. Slack against you, his full weight is heftier than his height would imply, but not physically uncomfortable– emotionally and morally, however, are another story. An air of pure peace washes over him as his cheek nuzzles the underside of your chest, arms limp at his sides; you swear you even hear a little trill. Your face burns, but you say nothing as you begin to sway faintly to the beat, tracing a loop with your feet as you traipse along. Wally follows easily, tethered by the reluctant cage of your embrace.
“Do you remember the night we met?”
The query is felt more than heard, his gentle monotone muffled by the downy fabric of your garb. You huff softly to yourself, rustling a few gel-slick strands atop his pompadour.
“How could I forget?”
The day the infamous Mr. Darling appeared in your club, his two largest henchmen in tow, is burned into your brain like a regrettable tattoo; Gene was off, so you were covering entertainment for the night while the sisters managed the bar and floor. As you were singing the very song playing now, you detected a curious hush that had overtaken the throng of guests, and strained to cut through the stage glare and cigarette fog to locate the cause. Tracking the audience, who were all regarding the bar with varying amounts of subtlety, you nearly dropped the microphone when you saw the broad blue back of Barnaby B. Beagle, someone you’d only heard of in gossip. He gesticulated as he spoke boisterously to poor Mottie, who was as white as a sheet behind the counter. Situated a slight ways away was Howdy Pillar, who stood as motionless as a statue with both sets of forelimbs fastened behind him.
And then you noticed him. A puppet no more than 4 feet tall, but whose oppressive presence commanded full attention. He paid no mind to the (one-sided) conversation between his colleague and your friend– no, he was staring right at you. Boring into you so acutely that you felt pinned, compelled somehow to continue singing until the final note trickled away.
As if a spell had been broken, you leapt from the platform and scurried to Mottie, who stayed petrified even when you tried to covertly nudge her to the side. How avidly you wished a fissure would open beneath their shoes and swallow them whole; but, armed with years of appeasing difficult and sordid customers, you spoke.
“Evening, fellas. I hope you enjoyed the show.”
Barnaby, who had stopped talking when you rounded the bar, bellowed a laugh.
“Fellas?! Is that any way to greet the boss and I?"
He tilted forward with menacing glee, propped up by furry elbows as his claws scraped the laminate countertop. Each of his fangs were as big as your nose.
"Dontcha know who we are, toots? Or do ya just need a refresher on respect?"
The acrid smoke from his cigar blew directly into your face, making spikes of anger bubble in your belly as you choked back a cough. Just when you felt composed enough to reply, a surprisingly mellow voice chimed in.
"It's alright, Barnaby."
The shock slacking his jaw mirrored yours, although you hid it under a mask of cool indifference. You dared a glance at Mr. Darling, but the pressure of his peer chased your gaze back to Barnaby, who grumbled as he straightened back up. It was difficult to stay trained on his good eye, but you soldiered on. Fear was not something you could afford to show, and you knew you'd crumble if you peeked at the fabled gaping socket that he stapled open himself.
"I don't suppose you're Gene Clifton, aged 54, father of two, owner of this joint?" He joked, recovered from the flub.
"No, sir, but my banker would sure be happy if I was. Can I take down a message?"
"A message! I love this bird!" Snickering cruelly, he waved a flippant paw. "Y'should try that material on stage sometime, might bring ya more customers than the singing bit."
You sucked a sharp inhale up your nose. Serenity now.
"See, here's the problem. This is family territory, and in return for our protection, we charge a teensy fee. Now, we ain't unreasonable– we've sent ole Gene a few letters. And what’s our thanks for such humble hospitality? Zilch."
Oh dear. Gene doesn't bother investigating any mail the lounge receives before tossing it because it’s typically adverts. He definitely would've noted The Neighborhood's seal if he did. Regardless, the frank abuse of power only fanned your annoyance, obscuring your better judgment.
"What protection? I don't recall seeing any of your members patrolling outside. Besides, we didn’t ask for protection."
Mottie snapped towards you, looking as though she might faint. The corner of Barnaby's mouth twitched skyward, like he was hoping you'd argue, but his boss beat him to the punch.
"We can reach an agreement, I’m sure. I'd hate to see a family establishment go under, especially when they have such lovely entertainment."
Apparently Wally was so smitten that he'd accept your company in lieu of money, and so the agreement (if you can even call it that, since you were coerced) was this– whenever a rose was delivered to you, you'd attend a rendezvous with him. When you returned to your dressing room later that evening, you discovered the first gift of several: your vase.
“I knew because of your eyes.”
The floral wallpaper in front of you shifts back into focus, Wally’s voice shaking you from your recollection.
“Pardon?”
“That night, you drew me in; I couldn’t concentrate on anything else, least of all a petty protection tax. And I knew I had to have you when I met your eyes.” He sounds dreamy, reminiscing as you were before, though his framing of events is worlds apart from your own; he recalls a destined encounter with his future partner, whereas you mark it the day your wings were clipped for good.
“They shone like stars, even through the smog.”
It’s only after he’s finished that you realize you’ve stopped moving, wrapped in an intimate hug like true lovers. A strange mix of pride and disgust floods you at the compliment, stomach flip-flopping rapidly.
He untangles from you, receding so that only your hands remain connected. The newfound distance eases some of your tension, but to your horror, you find yourself mourning the loss of the husky scent of his cologne. Loath as you are to admit it, the bastard smells amazing: a dark, leathery swirl of apples and saffron that you’d buy out if someone turned it into a candle.
“Let’s not delay any longer. You must be starving.”
True to his gentlemanly veneer, he seats you at the table before settling himself. You don’t see him call, but a server emerges immediately from the doors through which Howdy left with a tray of appetizers.
There are two graces you award Wally Darling: his excellent taste in cologne, and his staff’s Michelen-quality fare. Though they adopt the four courses typical of fine dining, the dishes are more grounded, toeing the border between grandma and Gordon Ramsay perfectly. Truthfully, you’re not even sure what to categorize it as; virtually everything is transfigured into a jello, pie, or salad, harkening back to the post-war cookbooks you used to gawk at as a child in your late mother’s library. The yellowed pictures in those books appeared extremely unappetizing, but somehow The Neighborhood makes it work.
It could be because of an illusive member named Poppy, one of the 7 who make up Wally’s illustrious inner circle. She’s scarcely seen due to her fretful and skittish nature, but Wally lauds her cooking and baking skills, regaling you in the past with plenty of kitchen mishaps that occurred when she tried to decompress by experimenting with recipes and was interrupted by their more excitable comrades. If you remember correctly, he once told you that most of the menus in rotation were created by her.
The nature of these duress-dates is wholly dependent on Wally’s mood– if he’s happy, then he’ll gladly chat your ear off about frivolous happenings in his and his friends’ private lives, though he takes care to be shrewd with any details that dive too deep into the murky underbelly lying just below. If he’s unhappy, then they can be utterly unbearable; his mere existence puts you on edge, so it’s exponentially worse when he’s out of sorts, tone curt and glare fierce.
Thankfully, he’s amiable tonight. The first 3 courses march on without incident, and painless conversation flows between the two of you, even if he does most of the talking– you’re not exactly eager to share more than you have to. It’s when the server presents dessert that things go awry.
“Say, how are those triplets you work with doing?” Wally says, spooning at the Bananas Foster. “I haven’t had the pleasure of catching a performance since our mishap a while back. So much paperwork, so little time, you know how it is.”
The mention of both your friends and the aforementioned Dorelaine incident have you bristling reflexively, but you do your best to tamp it down.
“They’re well, overall. Sometimes it’s difficult for them– their manager’s a real piece of work, and we get all types at the lounge.”
“I see…”
He lets out a long “hmmmm”, like he’s reflecting on this information.
“My family has also come upon hard times. It can be… trying, sometimes, to guide my children. Especially now, when we are under unjust attack.” He confesses, wistfully resting his chin on a thread-scarred palm. “Every family requires a head, but what is a head without a neck?”
Unjust my ass. Still, the weird metaphor confuses you.
“A neck?”
At that, his catlike grin only grows. What is he talking about?
“Yes, a neck; that is, someone who supports the head. I care for my family, so it’s only right I am cared for in return, wouldn’t you say?”
Though the phrasing is puzzling, you’re fairly confident you can infer what he’s purposefully dangling in front of you, and oh, it makes your stomach plummet. Sweat breaks out underneath your suddenly-sweltering outfit; it's as if you've been tied to a railroad and have managed to divert the train through pure will for a year, but now it's steamrolling square for you. The anxiety of impending doom renders you mute, unable to piece together a coherent thought.
Taking your silence in stride, Wally leans forward, intense as he grasps your hand in both of his own. The yellow fuzz does nothing to help how clammy you feel.
“What I mean to say is, I think that it’s time to settle down."
No.
“Wh– what? Settle down how?”
“To get married, silly.”
You’re unable to help the gasp that escapes you. No, no, no!
“Get married? You mean– to me?!”
“Of course. I’ve been courting you all this time, haven’t I?”
You sputter, and he rubs your hand as if to soothe you. His many gold rings gleam under the chandelier, teasing a glimpse of your fate.
“I know in the beginning you weren’t receptive to the idea of this life, but I've shown you that I can provide for you better than anyone else.”
Your expression must betray your surprise, because he chuckles– a slow, stilted sound that sends gooseflesh blooming across your skin.
“You thought I didn’t know? Howdy may not have reported it– which I’ll rectify in due time– but I have eyes everywhere, dear. You’re quite the talented actor, though.”
That trademark simper melts into something beguiling; he cradles you as if you’re the most precious thing he’s ever held.
“I love you, and I will take care of you, as I ask you to do for me. Doesn’t that sound wonderful?”
An inviting facade of genuine affection, so ardent that you almost want to believe it. Wouldn’t that be the easiest path to take? To surrender to the hand that feeds, because where it strangles others, it caresses you sweetly? It’s more tempting than you’d ever divulge, because underneath the armor of aplomb you've so carefully forged, you're exhausted. This burden has been yours alone to bear– and what a bear it is, because if you mess up, the people you love could be injured, or worse. So much worse.
Perhaps sensing an opening, Wally continues.
“Be reasonable. The family welcomes you with open arms! Haven’t you missed having a family?"
The words stab you right through the heart, and your waning resolve springs back tenfold by the fury that ruddies your vision. When you rip your hand away, he makes no move to stop you.
"My friends are my family. I don’t want anyone else, especially not murderers!” You snarl. “You kill people– and torture and maim them! How can you expect me to accept this?!"
"All in a day's work when cleaning up the city, unfortunately," Wally hums. "I wish we didn't have to resort to such things, but you must understand. As it is, puppets are treated as less than, and hardship runs rampant for both humans and puppets alike. You’ve experienced these firsthand.” With the elegance of a master conman, he touches his chest in mock respire. “All we wish to do is provide a safe haven for those in need– somewhere to rest your bones, enjoy a hot meal, and where everyone accepts you as their own. A home.”
You abruptly stand up, feeling like you’re wound so taut that you could erupt at any moment. The mahogany chair behind you tips over from the force, striking the floor with a leaden thud, though the sound is deafened by the blood rushing in your ears.
“Bullshit! You don’t have to start a gang to combat discrimination or help suffering people! Maybe that spiel works on the poor saps you trick into doing your dirty work, but it won’t work on me. The answer is no.”
All is still for a moment as you struggle to calm your heaving breaths, trembling and locked in a quiet stalemate with Wally, who’s as relaxed as ever. Your attention flits from his right eye to where the left would be, if not for the lesion carved from a notch above his eyelid to an inch below, giving the illusion that what lies beneath is impaled.
Oh shit.
The magnitude of what just transpired comes crashing down as your adrenaline flushes out. After playing it safe for months– stomaching unwanted exorbitant gifts, being tailed by his employees, and rousted to innumerous “dates”– you just rejected Wally Darling in the most aggressive way possible. So you do the only thing that might garner you a chance to make it out of this alive: run.
You’re halfway across the room when 4 thick arms suddenly wrangle and force you to halt, a scream ripping itself from your throat out of fear. Can this motherfucker teleport now?! How the hell did he get here so fast?? Thrashing, you throw your head back to search Howdy’s face, desperate for an ounce of the sympathy he’d offered in the elevator, but it is in vain; his stony visage is impenetrable, as though it had never wavered.
“How about you sleep on it, hm? Think about all of your options. We wouldn’t want anything to happen to those little lambs when their adorable shepherd isn’t around to protect them.”
Delicate fingers cup your jaw, making you freeze as Wally stretches up to plant a faux-kiss on your cheek, complete with a small “mwah!”. You scowl daggers at him as he collects your hat from where it flew to the floor, dusts it off, and lovingly places it back on your head before giving you a few pats.
“Aw, don’t be that way, darling. I truly meant what I said; you have beautiful eyes. I can hardly wait to try one on.”
With a snap, you’re hauled over Howdy’s back and spirited out of the room, presumably to be transported to wherever you’ll be staying. Hopefully not Wally’s quarters.
It’s all too much; you feel like you’re trapped in a nightmare. How else did you expect this to end? You’re not sure. With all of the awful things he’s done, forcing you into marriage is not beyond him. You just thought you’d have more time: to plan, to save up enough money to take the girls and race to the hills.
Tears gather on your waterlines, and the minute your mouth wobbles, they spill ceaselessly. Full-bodied sobs wrack you, the pain of Howdy’s shoulder jutting into your midsection compounding the profound ache of sorrow. All this time, you’ve been trying to fight, but there was no fight to be had; it ended the moment his eyes found yours across the lounge that day.
385 notes · View notes
unhingedkiara96 · 2 months
Text
Gallagher being in love HCs
NSFW, Gallagher x Reader, established relationship, genderneutral reader, one mention of light spanking
You aren't safe from a big slap on your butt once in a blue moon
If you complain that it hurt in any way, he'll say he can kiss it better
You have established a "tie signal" with him
If you're playing with his tie, like fondling it, it means you want to have gentle, cuddly sex
If you're grabbing and pulling on it, it means you want him to be rough
He's a service top
He loves taking care of you
But once in a while, if he feels too tired from work, he'll ask you to take charge and help him relax
How exactly? Surprise him
If you start off by giving him a massage, he won't stop praising you and saying how much he loves you inbetween moans and groans
If you're doing stuff around the house and happen to be bending down, he is very likely to get behind you and teasingly caress your butt, maybe gently grind himself while he grabs your hips if he's feeling "cuddly"
Once you turn to him, he sports a smirk but also a hint of adoration in his gaze
His biggest weakness? Whenever you say "please"
Not necessarily in a begging way, but still. It feels nice
He also loves asking you permission before doing anything
"Can I kiss your lips? Can I touch your thighs? May I... pleasure you down there with my tongue?"
Loves nibbling and licking and gently biting anywhere on your skin
He'll lose his mind if you kiss his scars
If you got some of your own, he'll make sure that you know he finds them beautiful no matter what, because they are a part of you and he loves All of You
398 notes · View notes
to-thelakes · 2 months
Text
wrapped up
pairing; frank castle x fem!reader
summary; after coming back from the bar, frank takes care of you with a hot shower and wrapping you up in blankets.
warnings; fluff, domestic fluff, domestic frank castle, self-indulgent, showering together
notes; hello hello! so this is my day 8 fic for fluffbruary, day 9 is partially written and i have a few ideas for 10 and 11 but i'm back in uni tomorrow so whether i will get anything done is really anyone's guess! but here's day 8. this originally was going to be written differently but since yesterday was really not the one for me, i wrote it more self-indulgently because i needed that frank castle lovin'! so here's domestic frank looking after reader <3
ao3
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It was meant to be a fun night out but it had ended in disaster. You were also frozen to the bone. Your jacket did very little to protect you from the blustery winds and despite taking a cab, you were still freezing. By the time that you got into your apartment, your teeth were chattering. 
Frank was cooking in the kitchen when you came inside, arms wrapped around yourself. Your eyes were red and teary from the crying at the bar but you were fine now. You were so emotionally strung out that it really didn’t matter anymore.
“Hey,” Your voice was hoarse as you closed the apartment door behind you. Frank glanced back, a smile spreading across his face at your sudden appearance. You hung your jacket up and kicked off your shoes before walking over to him. He was stirring a pot.
“How was it?” He asked. You shrugged, not really in the mood to speak about it.
“Awful,” You admitted. You wrapped your arms around his waist, snuggling into his back. A frown formed on his lips and he shivered at the feeling of your cold skin against his. “You’re so cold, sweetheart,” He said after a beat. You let out a grunt of agreement but you were honestly more than content to stay here with Frank, pressed up against him. A contented sigh left your lips and he couldn’t help but chuckle softly, “Gotta let this simmer, let’s get you a shower, hm?” He suggested. You let out a grumble of annoyance before pulling your arms away from him. There was a begrudging acceptance but Frank knew you and knew that you would have rather stayed pressed against him for the rest of the evening.
“You’re coming in with me,” You declared as you wandered over to the bathroom. Frank chuckled but nodded his head.
“Yes, ma’am.” A smile couldn’t help but break out across your face and once you had both entered into the bathroom, you stripped down. The cute top and jeans you had been wearing for the night were discarded and Frank warmed the shower up while you wiped your make-up off. The mascara had already smudged and some of it had come off due to your tears in the bar so you were glad to be rid of it.
Frank wrapped his arms around you, naked body pressed against yours as you used a cotton pad to wipe down your eyes. He just watched your reflection, admiring you as you went through your usual routine. It was only when you were done that he let go of you. Then, the two of you stepped into the steamy hot shower.
Frank let you get under the spray first and you tilted your face to be underneath it. The water rushed down your face before you pushed it back into your hair and turned around. Before you had the chance to, Frank’s hands had come up to push the water off your closed eyelids. He then leant forward and pressed a soft kiss to your lips.
“Y’so pretty,” He mumbled against your lips. A grin split across your face and you opened your eyes to look into his. There was something so soothing about being here. After tonight, after what had happened at the bar, you wanted to be with him. It made you feel a little more sane. You tugged him under the spray with you, water dripping down both of your bodies as you leant into him. His hand moved to cradle your back, holding you against him.
It took everything in you to stop yourself from sobbing. You knew that he wouldn’t mind but you didn’t want to have to think about it. You just wanted to be happy with him and you wanted to talk about it with Frank but not right now. It would make you angry and you didn’t want to be angry. You just wanted to be here with Frank, with your boyfriend and everything would be okay.
“Where’s your body wash?” You asked against his damp skin. Your head tilted up and he nodded his head towards the edge of the tub where all your products were. A grin spread across your face and you stepped back from him, reaching out towards it.
“What’re you doing, sweetheart?” His eyebrow was raised as he watched you pick it up. You then flicked the cap open and were about to pour some gel into your hand but his stopped you.
“Using your shower gel,” You responded, giving him a cheeky grin. He shook his head and grabbed the bottle from your hand, “Hey,” The frown quickly took over your face and he poured some into his hand. The sting of rejection began to seep back in and you felt the tears begin to prick at your eyes again.
“Turn around,” He instructed. You tilted your head, giving him a curious look before you followed his instructions. You weren’t under the spray of water anymore and then you felt his hands on your shoulders. He spread the shower gel along your shoulders before trailing his hands down your back. You melted. You were pretty sure you would have melted into a puddle if that didn’t defy the laws of the universe.
His fingers dug into your back, massaging your shoulders while lathering the gel up against your back. Your head fell backwards, a soft groan of pleasure escaping your lips. Frank smiled softly and leant forward, pressing a kiss to your cheek.
“Gotta take care of my baby,” He mumbled in your ear. You grinned and turned your head around so you could capture his lips in a kiss. His hands moved from your shoulders to your hips, letting you decide how long you wanted to stay like this. It was a soft kiss, tender and it made you breathless. You were panting when you broke away and you leant down, pressing a kiss to his chest before you turned back around.
His hands left you and he squirted some more gel onto his hands and then began to spread it across your stomach and up your chest. He ran his hands down your arms, lathering up every inch of your body with all the love and affection you needed in that moment. He was able to read you perfectly and by the time he was done, you felt so relaxed. All the tension, anxiety and anger had slipped away into happiness. 
You slipped back under the spray and Frank let you wash away the gel as he began to apply some to himself. You frowned, ready to argue with him but before you could even get a word in, he told you to just wash yourself off. You wanted to help him, you wanted to give him all the attention that he had given you. But Frank was a selfless lover, sometimes.
Once you had both washed up, he wrapped you up in a fluffy towel. You both dried off before walking to the bedroom and changing into your comfortable pyjamas.
“When is dinner ready?” You asked as you followed Frank back into the main room of the apartment. He glanced at the clock.
“Not long, just relax f’me, yeah?” You nodded in response to his words. There was no way you could argue with that tone and so you plopped yourself down on the sofa. The shower had significantly warmed you up and the emotions from tonight had been washed down the drain with sudsy water. But you were still cold.
As you curled up on the sofa, Frank could hear you shivering every few minutes. So, once he had checked on the sauce that still needed a minute or so to finish simmering, he headed back to the bedroom and brought out a stack of blankets. You glanced up at him as he walked over, fluffy stack in hand.
“Sit up f’me, sweetheart,” He requested and you followed. He then began to wrap you up in layers of blankets. You couldn’t help but chuckle as he made sure they were all wrapped securely around you. It was a warm cocoon and seeing Frank smile at you made it feel more loving than silly. Though you still felt silly.
“How am I supposed to eat?” You muttered. He rolled his eyes and pressed a kiss against your head.
“Stick your arms out, shit, I dunno, but I gotta keep you warm,” He retorted. You couldn’t help but bark a laugh at his response. You adjusted your position slightly and were able to get your hands to stick out from the cocoon of blankets. The air was so cold but you grabbed onto Frank’s hips and pulled him down into you.
“I love you,” You whispered against his lips before capturing them in a kiss. It was soft at first, closed-mouth kisses against each other before you ran your tongue along his bottom lip. He let your tongue slip into his mouth and you moved your hands to dig into his hair. The smell of him was surrounding you and you felt at peace for the first time since you had left for work that morning. Frank made everything so much better and you didn’t want to stop kissing him.
But then he pulled back, “I wanna keep kissin’ you, baby, but dinner’s gonna burn.” You pouted up at him but he gave you one last kiss to placate you before he walked back over to the kitchen. You switched the TV on and curled up under the mountains of blankets as you watched the crappy reality show on the TV and listened to the sound of Frank cooking.
Frank always seemed to know exactly what he needed to be and despite everything, despite everything, he was there for you. It made you love him so much.
<3
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chickenparm · 3 months
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Name Tag (Wanderer/gn!Reader)
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happy birthday, dude with hat
Wanderer/gn!Reader 1,390 Words - SFW (Reader is shy/nervous, first meetings sorta, subtle nahida plotting)
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The box crinkles in your hand, and you cringe at the sound. 
The House of Daena is never fully silent. There are always people here, murmuring quietly amongst themselves, flipping pages, rolling book carts back and forth. It’s peaceful, but never totally still unless you sneak in during the early morning hours. Perhaps that’s a boon, that it hides that crinkling from the figure you’re spying on around the corner of a bookshelf. 
This is foolish, you think. Not once have you shared words with him, but you’ve heard enough from others to find him impossibly intriguing. Like a crystalfly to the glowing Statues of the Seven, you’ve been inching ever closer to him, against your own logic. The box in your hands feels heavier with each moment that you procrastinate. 
Peering around the shelf, you watch as he scratches something out on the roll of paper in front of him, his lips downturned in an obvious sneer. Gone are the blue and white fabrics he adorns himself with typically - today he wears the typical garb of an Akademiya scholar, one loose sleeve bunched around his elbow as he props it on the table, his chin on his palm. 
The tip of his pinky curls in at the corner of his lip, and for just a moment you see him bite the nail before thinking better of it and lifting his head from his hand. Enraptured, you watch as he pinches at his chin in open thought before writing something quickly, then setting down the pen. 
His eyes are pretty, you think shamelessly. Purple like Viparyas, always focused, sharp as a knife. They shift as he reads, then they close and he sighs before opening them to look directly at you, expression expectant and somewhat vexed. “Are you going to keep staring, or are you going to tell me what you want?”
You want nothing, or at least that’s what you want to protest to him, but instead all you can do is nearly squeak as you duck back around the bookshelf and hold the box even tighter. You can do this, it’s fine. A few weeks ago, you were able to get an audience with the Dendro Archon, and despite her initial surprise, she’d been exceptionally forthcoming and excited to direct you in this single endeavor. 
He’s lonely, the Lesser Lord told you as if it were some secret. Maybe it is, for he doesn’t look as if he longs for anyone’s presence. But when you questioned her, she’d held up her hand to cup next to her mouth and whispered to you, “Give him time, be persistent.”
This is the first step. The next ones will be easier, you try to assure yourself as he makes an annoyed tsk from where he sits out of your sight now. Taking a breath, you square your shoulders and turn to step around the shelf. Looking at him doesn’t make it easier, but this is preferable to lurking outside his periphery and wondering what could be. 
At least this way, you know. 
With shaking steps, you approach him with the box and stand opposite him at his claimed table. He looks at you, then the box, and his brows furrow together. “Another gift? I already told you guys I don’t want anything from you.”
You guys? You stammer for a moment, then shake your head and gingerly set the box down. “I-I’m not a part of whatever else you received today. This is just me. Please, accept this, and whatever you do with it after, I won’t be offended. As long as my well-wishes are received.”
The final two sentences are ones you’d rehearsed in the mirror all this morning, and you’re thankful that they come out smoothly. He looks at the box warily, then blows a sigh through his nose that you can hear. He wants you to know that he’s annoyed, but his hands reach for the box anyway. 
There’s a tag on it, and thin fingers reach to read it, likely expecting the name that the other students and scholars had pinned him with. Instead, he pauses, face falling to neutrality. 
You don’t like that name much. It feels almost impersonal, like a hand-wave of whatever identity he may have beyond his appearance. You’d instead opted for a messy doodle of the ornament he wears even now, pinned to his chest with the glow of his vision visible through his robes. It’s not your best work, but it’s unique to him despite you having no name to go off of. 
To your surprise, he doesn’t crumple the little drawing. In fact, he carefully unties it from the box and sets it to the side, on the stack of books he’d been using today. Is he going to… keep it? Your skin feels warm at the prospect, perhaps putting too much stock into something so simple. 
It takes him a painfully long amount of time to open the box. Only a few seconds, but it feels like an eternity until he lifts the lid and peers inside. He says nothing for a long, long time. 
Nervous, you fill the silence with your own stumbling explanation. “I-if you don’t like it, that’s okay. I just thought maybe…” you trail off, because your confidence is waning with his lack of reaction. Good or bad, you don’t mind, as long as he gives you something. 
Carefully, he reaches in, pulling out a metal tin with Inazuman script stamped on it. There are other items in the box - accessories and tools to prepare the gift itself for consumption. He turns the tin in his hand, thoughtful as you explain, “It’s tea. You like bitter tea, right? That’s what Lesser Lord Kusanali said when I–”
Your words die as your embarrassment blooms. You hadn’t meant to tell him you’d been sniffing around for information to make sure your gift was something he’d at least accept. Those sharp eyes dart up to look at you, fingers frozen in their turning of the tea to read the labeling. Slowly, he asks, “You asked her about me?”
No getting out of it. Taking a shaking breath, you nod, then decide that you’re in too deep to clam up now. “I wanted to get to know you– I mean, get to know what you’d like. So I could bring a good gift. That’s all. Happy birthday.”
Your sentences are short and clipped, tacked on as if to bandage the situation you’ve surely ruined by letting him think you’re a fool. He didn’t need to know that you had any intentions beyond just a gift, he didn’t need to know that you wanted to know him. More than just some figure you pass on the street or see writing out his frustrations for Vahumana in the corners of the House of Daena. 
The sole of your shoe squeaks as you turn abruptly to make your exit and beat yourself up over this in the secluded privacy of your own dorm, far from any prying eyes. But you don’t even manage to follow through on taking a single step before he says quietly, “Sit down.”
You do. Mutely, and feeling stunned, but you do. 
Your hands lace together in your lap, clenching one another to hide the way they’re shaking with some odd mixture of anticipation and absolute terror. You didn’t think this was where this was going. Is he upset? Did you overstep by asking the Archon herself for the wisdom she holds about this mysterious guy?
The tin doesn’t make a sound as he sets it back in the box. The lid makes a tiny hiss from air escaping as he replaces it. The paper of the tag whispers against the cover of the book he set it on as he picks it up and examines it again. It's more silent in the House of Daena than it ever has been before, or maybe it's the blood rushing in your ears that drowns out the sound of anyone else existing within this space. It's just you, and him, and the box sitting between you that holds your hopes far more than any gift you could have fit inside.
He looks at the paper thoughtfully, then at you, and quietly tells you the name you can call him by.
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gavvaiins · 9 months
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lonely
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summary: having to carry the future of multiple universes on his shoulders miguel simply is tired, tired and lonely.
pairing: miguel o'hara x gn!reader warnings: angst, pinch of fluff, less actions, more vibes; story's gender neutral but i feel it might be too female-coded? idk ; - ; word count: 3.7k
a/n: yeah ... this is longer than it needs to be. Might got confused by grammar later ... idk while writing i fell into a narrating-style crisis? It definetly doesn't help when the book you're reading is written is a different tense.
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Sometimes all Miguel wished for was some time alone. In a building full of arachno-humanoids, constantly surrounded by either living people, holograms or other species there was sometimes not enough room to breathe. So, nothing reprehensible about wanting some time for himself.
However, Miguel wasn’t longing to be alone.
He didn’t need to.
He already was.
Despite being surrounded by dozens of spider-beings he was alone. He had no friends. Jess was a colleague, Peter Parker was a dear colleague, the best – and what was even Peter B. Parker? Honestly, Miguel didn’t know, but despite all these different Spider-People there was no one waiting for him. Not even in Nueva York, a city with far more citizens than anyone could count.
No one was waiting for him to come home – or to simply arrive, anywhere.
Lyla was nothing but an AI generated hologram, he created.
There was no one waiting for him.
And that was good. No one waiting for him meant safety; for him and for him. Without anyone there waiting for him to return home he could neither hurt nor lose someone. Miguel noticed that it wasn’t loneliness he was longing for, after all he was pretty much alone in his world, carrying the burden all by himself. Having time to breathe, to think that was what he was longing for. A moment without Lyla and the other arachno-humanoids, without having to think about anomalies and the downfall of universes.
All he wanted was peace.
“Miguel?” His body grew tense as your voice emerged from the dark, careful and soft, almost fearful as if you were entering a cave, unsure of what you’d meet in there. There was a chance that you hadn't spotted him yet, sitting on his lowered platform all by himself. Within moments he heard your voice he began holding his breath. If he didn’t make a sound, you wouldn’t catch him, which was a dumb and childish thought considering the lighting of the running monitors, which illuminated his big frame quite perfectly.
What were you even doing here? There was no need for you talking to him.
“Miguel?” You asked. He could sense the hesitation in your voice, it reminded him of the heroes in fairy tales, both brave and stupid enough to enter the dark woods full of beastly and hungry creatures. When Miguel thought about it, his room was a bit like a forest – or more a cave, dark and mysterious. To his surprise the light tremor in your voice didn’t stop you from further exploring the room. If this was truly a fairytale, you’d either be very brave or stupid, or both. Whatever it was Miguel would’ve eaten you alive.
But this wasn’t a fairytale, and he wasn’t the big, bad wolf, ready and hungry enough to devour you. But why didn’t you stop?
Why were you still going?
He was the Spider-Man who hoped not to be found by anyone, especially not you.
With every passing second Miguel’s body grew more, and more tense, his lungs felt strained, knowing very well that with every step you took, you were closer to seeing him. He knew that it would’ve been smarter to swing away, to simply vanish in the dark. But he couldn’t move. Something in him didn’t want to flee, despite his longing for peace and serenity. He was like a spider trapped in its own web, paralyzed by his own poison.
Maybe he longed for you to find him.
“Miguel.” Your voice was nothing but a whisper, not entirely fearful but caring as well. Yet, Miguel kept using the tactics of a child. Stoic and stiff did he keep his posture, eyes on the ground, head buried in his arms; if he couldn’t see you, you couldn’t see him either. Rather he avoided your eyes, your whole presence like the plague.
How did he, Spider-Man 2099, guardian of the arachno-humanoid poly-multiverse and destroyer of a whole universe, look like? A mountain of a man hunched on his sunken platform, hiding his face like a fearful child, who didn’t know where to put its overwhelming feelings. He used to be an authority, always standing high on his platform, towering over and looking down on you. But now it was you who looked down on him, a pile of misery in blue and red barely illuminated by flickering screens.
“Oh, Miguel.” He could sense your presence beside him, he could sense everything of you – your pity and empathy was almost sickening. Your body was awfully close but kept a minimal distance of respect, and to his own surprise Miguel felt his tense muscles relax.
Finally, he found himself able to breathe again.
For a moment you said nothing, no Miguel, no how are you. No words left his lips either. You two sat in silence and Miguel enjoyed it, a little – sitting with you in the dark, just the two of you and he hated to admit it, but he began missing his name rolling off your tongue. His name sounded so soft and caring, like he meant something, like he was someone others cared for.
Someone you cared for.
And something inside of him longed hearing you say his name, again, and again.
To his own surprise he needed it, and he surprised himself by how desperately he needed to hear his name coming from you.
“Miguel?” Ah, there it was. Finally. It was embarrassing admit how Miguel’s heart enjoyed it deeply, hearing his name rolling of your tongue. It felt like warm milk mixed with honey running down his throat, filling his body with warmth and a feeling of serenity, of home. Despite his inner positive response to your presence he didn’t move, nor did he speak. “What happened?”
“Nothing.”
Feeling your knee nudge his thigh, his body grew tense again. The touch was subtle, yet it alarmed all his senses, as if your touch could hurt him. Couldn’t you just continue gently serenading his name, like a sweet lullaby he could relax and fall asleep to? Miguel didn’t need to talk with you about his feelings. He didn’t want to.
“Doesn’t – “
“Leave me alone,” he grumbled, words swallowed by the void underneath his arms.
“– look like nothing,” you said. No answer, and for a moment you grew quiet. He had no idea what you were doing but he could hear you shifting in your seat beside him. Were you finally leaving?
No.
He wanted you to leave, didn’t he? Yes … that’s what he wanted.
But you weren’t leaving, he knew it when he felt your gentle touch on his shoulder. His muscles jumped slightly under your touch as if your fingers were ice cold or burning hot. They weren’t. Your touch was light, careful, like a butterfly dancing on his skin. First came your fingers, gracing his scapula as if you were testing the waters, then rested your palm on his shoulder and despite the highly advanced suit he was wearing, it felt like his skin was burning – a malfunction, an electric shock.
His heart jumped.
It was too much.
“I said, leave me alone!” Forceful, almost feral, he slapped your hand away. Risen to his full dominating size Miguel was panting heavily, fangs bared, talons shown and eyes gleaming of anger … and hurt, and loneliness, confusion. He looked like a beast, tall and furious, ready to strike or devour you.
“Miguel.” He tried not to flinch. He hated the sound of your voice; it didn’t feel soothing anymore. Instead, it was laced with fear, but mostly hurt. But what was he expecting? Miguel had scared you; he had hurt you.
Good.
Lyla would scold him for being an ass. He didn’t want to hurt you, but he needed to, and if that’s what’s needed to leave him be, he’d endure it … and he would do it again, if he needed to. Despite his body telling him differently, he neither needed you nor your pity.
His initial thought was that his plan was working. The big, bad Spider-Man was indeed an asshole, who made you cry for no reason. Never would you talk or even look at him again, which he told himself was fine. But you weren’t crying. Sure, you were holding your arm protectively close to your body as if his talons had teared through your suit, making you bleed. But no sign of tears rimming your eyes, plus, you weren’t leaving.
You were still here.
“What the fuck?”
Why wasn’t it working? “I told you to leave me.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you still there?” With satisfaction he watched you thinking of a good response, gears turning in your head, to no avail. Your mouth opened slightly before pressing it shut, eyes lowering to your hands folded in your lap. That was it; without anything to retort you surely would leave him.
Again, the two of you sat in complete silence. One he didn’t enjoy, but need, and surely neither did you. However, he was sure that you’d given up, any second, and leave him alone. “Is that really what you want?”
He looked at you, blinking.
“Is it really what you want?” You repeated, staring into his dark eyes and there is something in yours that scared him. Miguel couldn’t tell what it was, there was no poison in your eyes, no malice, yet he was afraid. “Do you really wish to be alone?”
You scared him, and that’s nothing anyone would ever associate with you. He hated to admit it, but he was, not of your physical strength or arachno-powers. Surely, he could easily knock you out. Rather he was afraid that you’d find something you weren’t supposed to see.
Miguel hesitated. “Yes.”
“I have to.” It just slipped out of his mouth. He hadn’t meant to speak his mind, even if it was just a bit. You weren’t supposed to know. But now you knew something that was meant to stay hidden, that was meant only for himself. A burden he had meant to carry himself. There was no reason to hide, yet there was no reason to face you either, so Miguel did what he could best, being alone. With a heavy sigh he crept back into the shell he so shamefully had lost. This time Miguel didn’t burry himself beneath his arms, instead he stared in the darkness of his office, waiting for you to leave. By that time, he should’ve known that you wouldn’t leave him.
Not like that.
“Oh, Miguel.” Again, his name was nothing but a soft whisper, comforting. There lied some sadness behind his name, yet it was all he had wished for moments ago, before he lashed out at you. “You are not alone. We’re all Spider-Man.”
Some incomprehensible grumble left his lips, how should he explain? It wasn’t your fight, neither was it Peter Parker’s, only his. “It was me.”
“I’ve done this,” he said before you could even think of calling him again.
“I –“ Miguel’s breath hitched and for a second his heart stopped beating, stumbling over its own rhythm as he felt your fingers dancing on his skin again.
How dare you?
He wanted to bare his teeth at you, again, he wanted to scare you, to push you away from him, but he couldn’t. His mind told him to, like he used to do whit so many people before. You knew too much about him. But his heart, his body, craved for the softness of your voice, longed for the warmth of your heart. Carefully your fingers grazed his skin, almost waiting for some sign of permission until they could finally rest on his cheeks. Despite wearing your spider-suit your hand felt surprisingly soft on his skin.
With a sigh he leaned into the comfort of your touch, until he remembered who he was and what he did. His head shot up like your hand was hurting him but before he could utter any more words of misery you placed both of your hands on his cheeks, gently forcing him to look at you.
“You’ve done what? Jumping through the arachno-humanoid poly-multiverse.” Your voice was calm and gentle, as was your smile. He could barely look at you. “That is quite a complicated name, maybe you should think about calling it spider-verse instead.”
Miguel meant to smile at your joke, even if only subtle, a ghost of a smile only you’d be able to detect and in any other situation he would. But he couldn’t. Not now, when he’d say something so gruesome that would paint him in a different light. However, the truth didn’t want to roll over his tongue, revealing who he really was, not when you so gently smiled at him, caressing his skin with your fingers. Heaving a sigh, he let go, and melted into your touch like warm butter. Was it good to let his guard down? Probably not. Neither was it professional to lean into your touch, almost gracing your clothed wrist with his lips. It wasn’t good but it felt good, the softness of your touch, the warmth seeking through your spider-gloves. If you’d allow it, he will fall asleep right here in your arms.
It was impossible for him to resist.
If only Lyla could see him now … big, bad wolf turned into a puppy.
However, he was left dumbfounded when he found himself stripped of your touch, even more so, when he found himself disliking the sudden coldness. Wanting to know what went wrong Miguel starred at you but nothing seemed to have changed. You still looked at him with the same fondness and empathy in your eyes, the only difference was that you’re patting your lap. His eyes followed your directions, and he grew hesitant.
“May I?” It should’ve been Miguel asking and not you. Though, resting on your thighs was a nice, almost heavenly thought but he shouldn’t enjoy your comfort too much. “Miguel, it’s okay.”
“No, it’s okay.” He declined.
“C’mon Miguel, it’s comfortable I promise,” you smiled, but he didn’t move. Surely it must be more comfortable than hanging in your hands, but Miguel couldn’t let himself fall on your lap. Already he was enjoying the tenderness of your fingers too much, what would happen if he rested on your thighs? Would he melt into them like he did with your hands? The though was nice but he resisted, not for long though. Tugging, basically dragging him by his arms, you somehow managed to pull his heavy body down on your lap. Carefully he shifted his weight, so only his head and upper body were lying on you. He didn’t want to crush you. However, the feeling that spread through his body as he rested on your thighs was both nice, comfortable and weird. Overall, it was a weird sensation and he’d found himself in a situation he’d never dreamed about before.
“May I?” Miguel had no idea what you were up to, yet he agreed with a hum. His eyes fell close and he hummed again, when he felt your fingers carefully dancing over his body, moving from his shoulder to his hair. It wasn’t the same when you held him in your hands, fingers holding him and caressing his cheeks. It felt different but good, relaxing your hands running through his hair, gently scratching his scalp. And sometimes he could feel the ghost of your fingertips brushing over his face.
He didn’t know how long you stayed in this position, sitting in silence, him resting on your lap and you caressing him like a pet. Miguel couldn’t remember the last time somebody did this for him or when his muscles felt so relaxed. Again, if you’d allow it, he’ll fall asleep right here by your side. But then he remembered what you asked him a long time ago.
“I killed them.” Miguel’s voice was surprisingly calm, even to him. Neither knowing what he meant nor how to answer this, you remained silent. But he could feel your eyes on him. He wasn’t sure if he liked it … not after confessing murder. Yet, he explained, “I killed them all, billions of people, my – his daughter Gabriella, all because I was selfish. – Gabby died because I was foolish to believe that my actions wouldn’t have any consequences.”
His confession shocked you; he could hear it in the change of your breathing and the stillness of your hands, and something in him died. Shocked by his confession you surely would leave. Push him off you like something disgusting. Maybe you would never talk to him again, unless it was necessary, and the thought scared him. His mind had told him to push you away. It was best to handle it all by himself, it was what he always did. But the stupidity people called the heart had won and now the thought of you leaving scared him.
“Tell me what happened.” Your voice was calm, not scared, not soft, just calm. It wasn’t the reaction Miguel had imagined, especially not when your fingers continued to play with his hair. You weren’t even disgusted by him. What kind of person were you to not leave him? “Tell me what happened.”
And he did. Miguel told you everything. How he took the role of a dead man, living his life and raising his daughter. He made it clear that he thought of his actions as selfish and stupid, because he erased a whole universe and with that Gabriella’s future. Never would he forget the fear in her eyes, how she clung to him, looking for safety, calling for her dad – for him, not knowing her real dad has died – until she disappeared as well.
Telling his nightmare was awful, remembering the horrors of his action never got any less painful. But sharing it with you felt surprisingly relieving. It wasn’t like he was healed from his pain but telling you about it made it a little more bearable. “I’m sorry this happened to you.”
How should he answer? Thank you? Moments ago, Miguel would’ve grumbled at the pitiful – no, empathic, he’d learned that much by now – tone in your voice but now he liked it, just as he enjoyed you calling him by his name. Miguel didn’t know what to say.
“I don’t think you killed them, Miguel,” you said after an eternity, never stopping playing with his brown strands. Careful he shifted his weight to look at you. Even with one eye lazily opened, he decided that he liked looking at you, watching how you react to him. “Then, who did?”
Wringing with the words on your tongue you hesitated. “I don’t know.”
In normal circumstances Miguel would be grim, and scoff at your naïve words, claiming to be the villain of his story. The selfish murderer of Gabriella O’Hara. However, now he felt rather tame and tired. It’s enough for him. So, he only hummed, closing his eye to revel in the fondness of your touch.
“But you can’t know either.” He looked at you again. He had to correct you, he knew, it was obvious, really. But before an answer could roll over his tongue you were quick to intervene. “I know what you’re going to say, Miguel. You’ve seen it and to you it makes sense, but listen – I … how does anything make any sense? Multiple universes, anomalies, canon events … we shouldn’t even be here, Miguel. I shouldn’t, none of us. But here we are.”
There’s a hint of sadness in your tone, faint yet he heard and didn’t like it. Miguel knew you’d meant to comfort him but, in the end, you’d realized, that nothing of this should’ve happened. You should’ve never met the friends you made in the spider society, never should’ve met him and never found him dark, and lonely in his room. Almost instinctively his hand reached out to you, gently cupping your face. Now it was his turn to comfort you, even if it was only for a fleeting moment. Unsure if he should draw small circles with his thumb, like he wanted to, or caress like you used to do, he just held you. “Don’t. – The multiverse is mine to preserve.”
“Oh, Miguel.” A soft, but sad smile graced your lips as you laid your hand over his, unwilling to let him go. “It’s not yours, either.”
“But it was my fault, not yours. Don’t worry about something I’ve done.”
You sighed. “Miguel, you shouldn’t carry this burden alone, we’re all Spider-Man. It’s not your duty alone to save the multiverse, you can’t do this alone. I – I think what I’m saying is, you’re not alone, Miguel. You might think that you’ve to do all by yourself but that’s not the truth, we help you, all of us. We will carry that burden with you, I will.”
Truly it was sweet how caring you were, none of you could – and should – carry the arachno-humanoid poly-multiverse on your shoulders. It was his job to preserve one less universe from being destroyed. It was his shoulders who had to carry the burden of it all, not yours. None of you should ever have to worry about the stability of your universe. But there was something burning in your eyes as you spoke, something Miguel enjoyed watching. So instead of objecting and lecturing you about the truth he heaved a hefty sigh and closed his eyes, making himself comfortable in your lap. It takes some time until you picked up where you left playing with his hair, gently scratching his skin here and there.
It's quiet as you ran your fingers through his hair, he doesn’t even move. You weren’t even sure if he was still breathing. But you swore you heard a hum, a content sound vibrating through his big body. However, when you try to check on him there’s nothing, no sound, no movement, not even a smile. Miguel simply looked like he’s asleep, stoic and grim – just like when he’s awake. It’s a silly though, him always looking serious no matter if he’s asleep or wake, it made you smile. However, in rare moments, when you’re not looking at him, his lips curl into a grin.
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currebunz · 10 months
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Diluc Flirting Headcannons
-He really doesn’t flirt, it’s not something he picked up.
-Instead of flirting, Diluc is just attentive of you. He keeps tabs on you and asks other about your wellbeing. Anyone who knows you has been questioned by him.
-He lowkeys does background checks into people you know, wanting to make sure they are trustworthy around you. Diluc trusts your judgement but he doesn’t trust others.
-He will try to be more involved with your life as well. Need a commission? He’s on it. Going on an adventure? He’s tagging along because it is dangerous. Bored with nothing to do? He is inviting you to his bar.
-He doesn’t out right invite you to the winery but he does say you can come by whenever you want to. His maids alert him and he is there in seconds, surprising you as you were told he was busy at the moment.
-Diluc tries not to prioritize you in the early stage of the relationship, but he is only a man. He can’t help but drop anything minor in order to spend time with you.
-He encourages you to write letters or gives you a journal that you can leave at the winery so you both can leave messages in passing. He treasures them.
-After a thorough investigation, he will gift you things that are catered to your liking. It wasn’t like he had spied on you to see what caught your eye on the market.
-When you come by the bar, he can’t help but lift more of the heavier items. (Yes he is like that a bit). When you guys are out and about, he will take the lead and fight the enemies you encounter, hoping you are watching him.
-If you say his hair looks better down or in a higher ponytail, you will see him like that more often. (As a treat)
-Kaeya will taunt that he doesn’t know how to flirt and Diluc will finally be pushed to try something. The most he can do is kiss the back of your hand or compliment your looks, in private.
-Chivalry, his flirting is just chivalry.
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it-happened-one-fic · 3 months
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Ink and Magic - Merchant From the Depths
Author Notes: Part 3 of this sort of halfway non canon compliant what if with the overblots and their aftermath! A lot of what I said for part 1 counts for this section too. This isn't exactly romantic. in fact, I would say it counts as more platonic, but it certainly can be taken as shippy. This will also be a series, though the Diasomnia section won't come out until that entire matter is resolved in game. As per usual, reader is gender-neutral. I hope you enjoy!
Spoilers for Book 3: The Merchant from the Depths!!
[Heartslabyul] [Savanaclaw] [Octavinelle: You're Here!] [Scarabia] [Pomefiore] [Ignihyde] [Diasomnia: To be released]
Type: Gender-neutral reader/ fic series/ Can be platonic or romantic/ fluff/ angst/ comfort/ Spoilers for Octavinelle overblot.
Word Count: 1807
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I landed on my backside hard, grunting from both the impact and the stinging sensation in my sides from where Azul had just hurled me with his tentacles across what had become a battlefield as soon as he’d overblotted.
The sounds of screaming had me looking up, wide-eyed, to see both Jade and Floyd firing off multiple spells in quick succession at the shrieking octo-merman. 
I couldn’t see either of their faces as they blasted relentlessly at Azul’s overblotted form, which released piercing screams and jerked in agony each time a spell connected with either his body or the blot monster that seemed loomed over him.
I suppose that, in the end, it only made sense that it came down to the Leech twins. Moray eels were a natural predator of octopi, after all….
Azul collapsed with a lurching gasp as the twins at last stopped firing, and the blot monster collapsed with a great cry. Spilling ink everywhere and causing the thick black liquid to swirl through what had once been pristine water that surrounded the Octavinelle dorm. I grimaced at how the ink spiraled around like a great, dark snake until, at last, it began to slowly dissipate.
The housewarden let out a quiet whimpering sound, muttering something to himself until his voice rose so that I could at last hear him as he looked up at me, of all people. 
His normally pale blue eyes were impossibly bright and shone with bitter tears as the purple flame that was over his right eye flickered out of existence, “I… I just wanted to….”
His voice cracked, and I felt something within me tense, almost like I was the one whose heart was breaking.
I was in motion before hardly anyone else reacted to him slumping forward. Reverting back to a human form as he toppled towards the ground.
My feet dug into the muddy ground, and I could hear the others behind me shouting, their voices mixing and mingling, along with Jade and Floyd’s shouts that were directed at Azul.
Distantly, a small part of me almost begged me to stop. I knew what was going to happen after all. But somehow I found myself focusing, my vision tunneling so that it seemed like Azul was the only thing I could see as I ran forward and towards him.
I felt myself speed up as Azul stared back at me, tears streaking their way, unbidden, down his face, even as his expression grew numb and he succumbed to exhaustion.
 Those pale blue eyes of his, the same color as a cold winter sky, flickered shut as he collapsed into my arms, and I sank to the ground with him under the weight of his already limp body. And even as I heard his two close friends continue to call out his name, their voices tinged with something akin to fear mixed with concern, I was immediately exhausted.
But it would be alright. This was the third time I’d done this. So I ignored all of the yelling and shouting around me and surrendered myself to the oblivion of the darkness that would no doubt hold his memories and stories of trauma as I hit my knees was no longer frightening.
And that brief moment of silence was almost peaceful, as that solid blackness enveloped me and dulled all of my senses until I could no longer hear what any of my companions were shouting.
“The only place I ever belonged was inside an octopus pot,” Azul’s voice was calm as it rang out through the darkness that surrounded me, and I didn’t even bother looking for him, even though he sounded like he was right beside me. 
Perfectly on cue, the film of his history slowly began to play. Unfolding his life events in front of me, all for him to narrate and explain.
He had been an adorable little chubby child, evidently enough. One that appeared to cry frequently and was generally emotional.
A silly little octo-twerp he called himself, and I immediately recalled him saying those exact words as he was overblotting. 
I could only assume from his vehemence then and the events I was seeing now that he had been called that numerous times.
But from what I was seeing here, octopi mermen were not well liked. Why, I couldn’t say…. But his classmates' distaste for him was rather evident as they jeered at his tiny childhood form.
I could now say that Azul had hatched his plot for vengeance on those who mocked him early on in his life. Before he even had met Floyd and Jade.
Despite his resentful nature, which had apparently been present even when he was a child, I couldn’t keep the smile from my face as younger versions of the twins swam into view with brightly sparkling mismatched eyes as they greeted him. And it didn’t take long before it was obvious that the three were going to be sticking together.
“Octy here’s pretty funny, Jade.”
“I agree, Floyd. He’s quite fascinating.”
It was the first time I’d actually seen the tiny Azul actually appear to be happy through the course of these memories, and it immediately made me wonder exactly how close the three young men were.
They all seemed to prefer to view their relationship as one where they could slip apart at any moment, but from what I saw here in his memories and judging from Floyd and Jade’s immediate and concerned reaction as they had left to return to Azul as soon as the anemones had disappeared from Ace, Deuce, and Grim’s heads, I suspected they were far closer than they let on.
As I continued to watch the film of Azul’s past, he sank deeper into his plot as it gave him what he felt he needed. Purpose and strength. 
It was saddening that he felt like he could only ever be worthwhile if he attained other’s gifts. Like his own merits weren’t enough on their own.
By the end of the rolling film-like memories, he’d vowed numerous times that he would never be weak again.
“I’ll make everyone who ever mocked me quaver and beg for mercy,” His voice held a determination that was as impressive as it was frightening. And yet, I couldn’t help but admire the amount of resolve Azul had possessed even as a child.
It was true that he’d been beyond wrong to do what he’d done. But it was also true that, just as the others had been, the root of his breakdown ran deep throughout his entire person and life experience.
I opened my eyes, blinking blearily, before I realized I’d slumped down over where Azul rested on my lap, so that my upper body was laying over Azul’s. Almost like I was shielding both him and his memories of his childhood from the world.
 I leaned back, slowly pushing myself upright, and I could immediately hear the scrambling of people to reach me. 
A steady hand rested on my back as another curved around my wrist, as if they were worried it would give way under the weight of my own still-heavy body.
“How are you feeling?” Deuce’s voice was right near me, close enough that I assumed the hand on my back belonged to him. I nodded in response before glancing over to see Jade Leech, of all people, kneeling down next to me.
My eyes went wide, but he simply ignored me. His gaze staying on where Azul continued to rest with his head on my lap, “What happened?”
His voice was ever calm, and his expression was unreadable, as was his brother’s, whom I could now see standing behind him. One thing I could tell, though, was that they were mystified as to what had just occurred.
“They were helping him through the direct aftermath of the overblot,” Leona answered for me, startling me with how close he actually was.
Looking over, I saw him standing over me, his arms crossed as he frowned down at where I knelt on the still wet ground.
Of those here, he probably understood what had just occurred best. But his words were still confusing. In what way had I helped Azul through a rehashing of his memories?
“So you did the connection thing again?” Ace’s slightly judgmental tone came from behind me,  and I glanced over my shoulder to make eye contact with the frowning redhead, who held Grim, and beside whom Jack and Ruggie stood.
 I nodded, finding my head still felt foggy from ‘connecting,’ as he called it, to Azul, “Yeah…. I saw his memories and everything. Just like with Riddle and Leona.” I looked back over as I spoke, making eye contact with Leona, who held my gaze unflinchingly.
I started to straighten a bit more before immediately regretting that decision as a shooting pain went through my waist. I let out a pained grunt, and I felt a heavy hand on my shoulder, “Careful, you got hurt pretty badly in the fight when Azul grabbed you…”
Jack’s tone was firm, but the concern there was obvious, making me wonder exactly what my side looked like.
“Bad, how?”
None of my friends actually responded to my worried question. Instead, it was Floyd answered, “Azul squeezed you pretty tight, and what with his suckers….” 
He trailed off in a distinctly ominous fashion that had me going tense until Leona finished what Floyd had started with a huff, “I fixed the worst of it, but you’ll still need to go to the infirmary.”
I twisted again to thank him, but froze when Azul let out a groan. The arms he’d thrown loosely around my waist tightened reflexively, causing me to stiffen slightly before his hold loosened once more and his eyes opened.
He blinked once and then twice before slowly looking up, “Prefect….?”
I smiled slightly at him, hardly able to help myself. There was something about having seen each of the overblot victims' memories that made it hard for me to stay upset with them.
Plus there was the fact that he’d been an awfully cute child……
He slowly sat up, his expression growing wary, “What happened?”
And so followed the lengthy explanation, including the awkward parts of me explaining that I saw his memories and heard his thoughts, which naturally led to the tweels teasing a rather flustered Azul.
At this point, I was getting more used to the aftermath of the overblots. But a part of me was still incredibly concerned about why, exactly, I felt the intense need to catch each victim in the overblot fallout and why I saw their memories and thoughts.
Even as I could feel Azul's gaze on me, I couldn’t deny that Ace might be right to be concerned about my connecting with them….
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generalsmemories · 9 months
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[ Request ] It's a rainy day out.. what do Jing yuan & the reader usually do in this weather?
This could be HCs or a drabble ( Please make it the fluff genre )
Thank you! :) ( LOVE YOUR JING YUAN LAYOUT BTW )
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the pitter patter of the rain
✧ jing yuan x gn!reader
✧ synopsis: under the gentle sound of rain there's only you and jing yuan... along with mimi of course.
✧ content: established relationship & fluff
✧ a/n: guess who absolutely lost it upon hearing this man speak in the special program for 1.2? yes. it was me. so here we are. i bring forth a gentle fluffy piece today. and EEE THANK YOU! THE HEADER ONLY TOOK ME LIKE 20 MINUTES BUT IM GLAD IT'S TO YOUR LIKING ANON !!!
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Jing Yuan loved when the weather in Xianzhou were set to become rainy throughout the entire day. It would mean a certain set of events were more than certainly bound to happen.
He would be able to avoid being at the Divine of Foresight and doing paperwork with easy accesibility for everyone else to come and find him, because no one likes to travel back and forth in the rain.
He could stay home when he negotiaties the terms with both Qingzu and the other commissioners on a set amount of papers he has to look through to further advance the Xianzhou.
He would have your undivided attention (if he manages to shoo both Yanqing and Mimi away) because you too, liked to stay inside when it rained.
And as he expected, the first and second point came to pass without any trouble, but as he slid the door open announcing that he was home, he was met with silence. He was sure that the rain wouldn't stop Yanqing from traveling to the training grounds and continuing to swing his sword, to which was proven true when he noticed that Yanqings' shoes were missing from the entryway. As Jing Yuan ventured further inside the house, he was able to hear the gentle breeze rustle through the curtains, the wind chimes loudly ringing from the added wind from the pouring rain.
And outside laying on the wooden floor of the veranda while gazing out towards the koi pond in the garden were you. You were just out of reach from the splattering raindrops to hit you, but close enough to hear the rain hit the rocks, roof and pond. You were also clearly awake, Jing Yuan could tell by the hand that is threading through Mimi's mane whose head was resting on top of your stomach, while the upper body was covering your lower half like a blanket.
Truly a serene view, but his third point had yet come to pass because you hadn't even greeted him home.
Which meant that your attention was solely on Mimi and the splattering of rain hitting the ground or pond in front of you. But not him.
So with a small chuckle he made his way over to you, "It's quite saddening to be met with silence when I announce my early return home, you know?" Jing Yuan tells you when he's within earshot, you merely turn your gaze away from the pond to stare at him, eyes crinkling as you give him a smile, "Welcome home, Jing Yuan," you say with a grin, "Although I knew you would come home early."
He knew you were already aware of the fact he would return early, so Jing Yuan doesn't comment any further besides setting down the scrolls he took home to read through beside your head. And as if on instinct, you crane your head up from the ground so Jing Yuan's legs can settle on the spot instead. The general merely places a hand beneath your head to ease the strain on your neck while he finds a comfortable position on the ground before he gently places your head back on his thigh. You hum in affirmation, shuffling a tiny bit to get comfortable.
Mimi lets out a growl at your sudden movements, and you stop moving around while letting out a laugh, ruffling her mane quickly before squishing the cheeks together and making the lion look at you, "Sorry Mimi ~ Did I disturb your nap?" you coo softly, Jing Yuan letting out a snort at the use of baby voice. He uses one hand to open up the scrolls besides him while his other hand is busy twirling your bunched up hair by his thigh through various loops around his fingers, "Mimi may have gotten her nap interrupted, but Jing Yuan is lonely," he coos absentmindely, attention still on the scrolls which makes you let out a laugh.
Letting Mimi's head fall back down onto your stomach, you direct your attention back up at the general, who looks away from the contents of the scroll beside him to cock his head to the side, his usual grin still painting his lips. Your arm reaches up to him, to which Jing Yuan is quick to bend his head so that you can pat his head and thread your fingers through his hair, brushing away the bangs that cover his other eye to get a proper look at him.
"Why is our general acting so cute today, hmm?" you wonder out loud, Jing Yuan freeing his fingers from your hair to cup your cheek, thumb caressing your skin softly, you merely turn your head a bit to kiss the inside of his palm, "Because the general hasn't gotten his words of affirmation for his hard work today," he jokes back.
And as Jing Yuan watches your body shake with constrained laughter, his gaze softens. Breathing in the humid air from the rain that's starting to pour down hard - such serene moments with you could truly only be obtainable by the amount of work he has done over the years to keep Xianzhou peaceful.
As mundane as it is, he's somewhat glad that he's put himself in such a mundane routine for the sakes of moments like these.
"There, there, our cute general has done so well today," you praise, ruffling his hair, "What does he want for a reward for his good work, hmm?" you joke, to which Jing Yuan playfully rolls his eyes, only moving his thigh a bit as a signal to make you arch your neck up so he can lean down further and connect your lips.
He truly loved the rainy days onboard the Xianzhou.
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redamancy-writes · 1 year
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The Lost Boys (1987) x Fem! Reader - Blood Bag
AN: Hello! This is my first time writing for The Lost Boys, so I hope you all enjoy! Thank you @floral-and-fine​ for the support and the help working out some of the details on this ❣️
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Word Count- 1383
Fandom- The Lost Boys 1987 
Pairings- Poly! Lost Boys x Female! Reader
Title- Blood Bag
It wasn’t often that you saw your boys fight, where their playful banter turned serious and fangs elongated and eyes turned that golden yellow that sent chills up your spine.
“You got to feed from her yesterday, man,” Paul growled from next to you, hand on your thigh as he argued with Marko, “I’m thirsty too.”
“We’re all thirsty, Paul,” David scowled from his wheelchair, hands gripping the armrests to physically restrain himself. “It’s not your turn.”
“(Y/n) isn’t an object,” Dwayne chimed in, despite being on edge and tensed he was the only one who was thinking rationally as he took in the smell of fear from you.
The more tense they got, the more on edge you got. Like a bunny cornered by a wolf, ready to dart out the next opening it could find.
“I never said she was,” Paul’s grip on your thigh tightened, making you wince.
What made these fights the worst was that they always centered around you. You wished that they would be able to push their hungers aside and talk rationally, however, as a human you thought best to not butt in to their arguments. Until now, as Paul’s grip became bordering painful as his elongated nails dug into the meat of your thigh.
Gripping his hand in your own, you paid Marko’s new argument no mind as you carefully pried Paul’s hand off of you, frowning at the indents in your skin.
“You boys do know I’m not the only human in Santa Carla, right?” You broke their argument, even though saying the words themselves made an anxious pit form in your gut.
You just wanted them to stop fighting, to satisfy their hunger and come back to you as the playful, soft- not that David would ever admit it-, kind people that they usually were around you.
They were hungry, needing blood to fill their appetite and some nights even draining an adult person wasn’t enough for their bellies. Sharing itty bitty ounces of your blood between them wasn’t going to cut it. Not in the long-term, anyway.
“Why don’t you just go drink from someone else? Or multiples,” You anxiously began to fiddle with Paul’s fingers as the cave grew eerily quiet.
You thought the fight had now been done and over, as they all stared at you wide-eyed. You interpreted it as a look of astonishment, a ‘how could we not have seen this before’ until Marko spoke up.
“(Y/n)...” He breathed out, almost like a whimper.
“Why would you suggest that?” David asked, his own expression going neutral again but as his eyes shifted from yellow back to the lovely icy blue tone you adore, you could see the sadness behind his gaze.
You shrugged, keeping your gaze down at your hand holding onto Paul’s, “I can’t meet your needs, not even close,” It hurt to say it, your heart stinging as you admitted out loud that you can’t provide for them in an equal manner in which they provide for you. They took you in when you had no one, provided you a safe haven of warmth and security.
“I know I can’t, and it would be easier for you all to find a donor or even to just find someone to drain like how you did before,” You kept your head low, avoiding their stares.
“Besides, like you’ve said before David, I’m just a blood-bag right?” You felt the back of your eyes sting, “You can just replace me, or add in someone else to this equation.”
David stood from the wheelchair, the definitive sound of his leather trench coat signaling that he was approaching you before his boots spilled into your line of sight.
“Look at me, little one,” He softly ordered, and of course no matter how upset you were, you followed it. Looking up to him, you bit the inside of your cheek as you tried to look nonchalant.
“I thought we made this clear, you are the only one we will feed from.”
Feeding.
That word again.
A blood source from them, an easy way for them to fill their bellies before running whatever errands Max had for them.
Each time that word spilled from their lips, you wanted to yell out that you weren’t just food. You thought that there was something more between you all, the soft looks and gentle caresses.
Dwayne’s gentle hold on your body as he asked permission before piercing your flesh, Marko’s thumb rubbing on your exposed flesh before his nose ran along the vein, David’s hand cupping your cheek while he asked if you felt alright after, Paul pulling you against his chest so you can nap off the fatigue- acts oh so intimate.
But maybe…Maybe you were naive. Looking too far into those small acts.
“Yeah,” You looked from his gaze towards the fountain, frowning as the word ‘feed’ and all of its variations played in your head. “You like my blood, you’ve said it before.”
Marko approached now, sitting on the other side of you.
“No, (Y/n),” Marko made you look at him as his fingers tilted your chin towards him. “Not just because your blood is delicious, because you are you.” His words made your brow furrow
“The only girl we’d ever want,” Dwayne chimed in, still giving you space but the fond look in his eyes made heat rise to your cheeks.
“I don’t understand, I don’t get what this means,” You looked between all four of them, your brow still furrowed and your lips pulled into a pout.
Paul laughed, not mocking or harsh as he interlaced his hand with yours. “Boys, we haven’t been clear enough, she needs us to spell it out.”
“Spell what out–”
“You’re our mate,” David spoke, and when you looked to face him you expected a smirk on his face, his signature cockiness and arrogance on display as the leader of the group- but no, his expression was soft.
“I’m your what–”
“Our mate,” Dwayne piped up, now approaching. “Not our buffet, not our blood bag,” Dwayne’s eyes cut over to David who turned his face away with a huff. “The one we cherish with our heart and seek out above all else.”
“Your mate…” The words felt foreign on your lips, but they made your belly feel warm and full as Marko made a sound of agreement from beside you.
“We will work out the feeding issue,” David made a pointed look to Paul and before he could say another word, Marko beat him to the punch.
“But please don’t ever question your standing with us, and why we want you around.” Marko grabbed ahold of your unoccupied hand, lacing it with his own.
“Do you understand now, little one?”
“I think I do.”
“Good,” David leaned in and pressed a tender kiss to the crown of your head. “Now, we’ll be back,” David stood to his full height. Would their victims taste like garbage in comparison to your sweet crimson nectar? Absolutely. However, they needed to satiate their blood thirst, and you needed alone time to deal with this information.
“When will you be back?” You couldn’t help but ask, not used to being left behind.
“Soon, we’ll bring you back some (F/Food).”
And as they each gave you their own personal farewell, you couldn’t help but fidget in place.
“We’ll be back before you know it,” Dwayne said, lifting up your hand to kiss at your knuckles.
“You promise?” Fear still lingering that this whole conversation was somehow one grand prank and they’d come back with another woman, declaring her as your replacement then laughing at you for believing them.  
Dwayne paused, looking into your eyes. “I promise, we will always come back to you.”
A soft smile blossomed on your face as he swore they would return, the sincerity in his eyes melting your concerns as you nodded and reached out to grab one of Paul’s cuddle blankets.
“Don’t make me wait too long,” Your words had an underlying meaning as you snuggled into the surprisingly clean material, eager to discuss more about this mate situation when they came back.
“We wouldn’t dream of it, sweet cheeks.” Paul winked at you before Dwayne pushed him up the stairs.
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Comments and Reblogs are greatly appreciated!! 
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lexsssu · 11 months
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Sincerity (Cyno)
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TAGS: Cyno/Fem!Bunny!Reader, fluff, simping, domestic fluff, fatherhood
He was just one of the many students within the Akademiya when he first met you.
And like all young scholars, when faced with a beautiful maiden, he makes a fool of himself by cracking a joke or two that had only ever gotten him exasperated sighs or awkward silence.
The last thing he expected was to actually have you in a fit of giggles while Tighnari, your senior and his own friend, rubbed his temples as his lips stretched into a thin straight line.
“I was a bit nervous about meeting you at first, but I’m glad I did.” Your eyes seemed to sparkle as you looked him straight in the eye without an ounce of fear or nervousness. 
It’s…a breath of fresh air, to be honest.
Most people regarded him with wariness for some reason.
So having someone, particularly the ‘Jewel of Amurta,’ expressing such sincere gladness over meeting him was…nice.
“If senpai told me earlier how funny you could be, I’d have begged him to let me meet you sooner!”
And it was on that sunny day at the Akademiya grounds years ago when Cyno, the future General Mahamatra, would find himself as red as freshly boiled shrimp for the first time in his life. 
“I’m going to marry her.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The sight of General Mahamatra looming over you was one of the greatest fears of scholars, mercenaries, and even ordinary citizens alike. Nothing good ever came out of being his target, especially when no amount of begging, bribes, or resistance could truly get him off of your scent once he’d set his sights on you.
This is why most willingly surrender the moment they’re caught. They’ll receive their judgment regardless of how they tried to prolong the inevitable, so it’s easier to just accept it.
With the rest of his team down and out for the count, the bandit could only throw away his scimitar, cursing internally as he got on his knees before submissively laying on the desert sand. He knew this was a losing battle, but at least he’d still have some of his dignity left after this—
“And that’s how you subdue enemies in a desert. You can even say that they got their just DESERTS!” 
“Da-buuuu!”
“That’s my boy. Of course my son would inherit his father’s tasteful appreciation of jokes♥”
“Ba-baaa…” 
Unable to help his own curiosity, the bandit peeked up at General Mahamatra who leisurely made his way towards him. A small, chubby face peeked out from the matra’s shoulder, possessing many of his sire’s features. From the piercing vermillion shade of his eyes, the shade of his skin, and his ivory tresses.
The only major difference was the pair of floppy bunny ears at the top of his little head. 
Had this been a different situation, the bandit might’ve paid his jailer a compliment for having such a precious-looking child. 
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writerofsorts · 1 year
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Right Place, Right Time
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pairing: jason dilaurentis x female reader.
summary: 1x09 “the perfect storm” episode imagine/rewrite.
warnings: none... wilden being a jerk?
*read previous part here!
—————
“Where is Spencer with my mozzarella sticks?” Hanna groaned, dropping her head on top of her book that laid open in front of her, and [Y/N] chuckled at her friend’s antics. 
Currently, [Y/N] and Hanna found themselves in Spencer’s kitchen, sitting at the island, as they studied for the SATs. 
“Relax, Han, I’m sure Spence is on her way here,” [Y/N] replied while working on practice questions. “Remember she had to pick up Aria on her way?” 
“Yeah, I remember,” Hanna groaned yet again, facing [Y/N] this time with her cheek pressed against the cold page of her book. 
[Y/N] was so engrossed in her studying that she didn’t notice the sudden mischief that lit up Hanna’s eyes. 
“Until they get here, though,” Hanna began, lifting her head up and sitting straight again with her hands clasped in front of her. “We have something very important to talk about.”
“Talk about what?” [Y/N] asked, her eyes turning suspicious as she noticed the teasing glint in the blonde’s eyes. 
“About the past few days,” Hanna replied. “About Jason.”
“What about Jason?” [Y/N] asked, her eyes dropping to the pages in front of her again as she tried to remain nonchalant about the topic. 
“[Y/N] [Y/L/N], you know exactly what I’m talking about!” exclaimed Hanna. 
“Nope, I don’t,” [Y/N] answered, flipping the pages of the book because she couldn’t concentrate on the practice questions anymore.
Hanna, who understood this, was quick to pull the book away from [Y/N] to which the latter let out a ‘hey!’
“[Y/N/N], did you really not see the way Jason’s eyes lit up when he saw you after he said hi to me the day he came to discuss the memorial with us?” Hanna asked, ignoring her friend’s protest to grab the book again. 
“The way he hugged you and to me, it looked like he only let go when you pulled away from him first,” Hanna continued and [Y/N] remained silent, no longer trying to get her book back. “He also stood closer to the side you sat by at this very spot. He was all polite and business until he brought up Ali’s picture, and you replied that it was our favorite. Not to forget, you speaking up totally calmed him down when we pretty much nagged him about why Jenna wanted to speak at the memorial.”
[Y/N] played with her fingers as she processed Hanna’s words. She would be lying if she disagreed with Hanna because she had made the exact same observations about Jason. However, she was afraid to hope that there was more – that Jason somehow returned her feelings. 
“Also, let’s not forget the extra large frown on his face when Eric hugged you after the memorial,” Hanna added. 
“Wait, what?” [Y/N] asked as this was the first time she was hearing about this. 
“Yes!” Hanna exclaimed. “I mean he probably knows Eric’s your ex so he was very much likely jealous.”
“Han,” [Y/N] sighed. “Are you sure you’re not imagining things?”
“Of course not,” replied Hanna. “I’ll have you know that I’m a very observant person.”
[Y/N] couldn’t help but chuckle before sighing. 
“Hanna banana, nothing is going to happen between Jason and me. So, you need to forget about Jason and I, and focus on the SATs we have tomorrow.”
“Hey, I’m multitasking!” Hanna reasoned, making [Y/N] laugh yet again. 
“But, Han, I’m serious,” [Y/N] replied. “To Jason, I’m prob- definitely just a friend of Ali. One of the powerpuff girls as he used to call us.”
“I’ve just… never seen you look at a guy the way you look at Jason,” Hanna said softly. “I mean I know you were with Eric and you two liked each other, but I don’t know. I’ve always thought you two were better off as friends.”
“That’s why we ended things but we are still good friends,” smiled [Y/N].
“I hate that I’m nagging you about Jason, but I just… I want you to be happy,” Hanna shrugged. 
“I am happy, Han,” [Y/N] replied, leaning over and squeezing Hanna’s hand reassuringly. 
Before Hanna could say more, they heard the sound of Spencer’s car.
“Let’s not talk about Jason anymore,” [Y/N] said. “Can I have my book back please?” 
“Ugh, fine,” Hanna rolled her eyes dramatically and handed [Y/N] her book again. “Our conversation isn't over [Y/N/N]!”
...
The day of the SATs was awful to say the least.
Veronica Hastings had driven Spencer, Aria, Hanna, and [Y/N] to the school. Spencer’s mother didn’t let the girls out of her sight until she verified with someone the test was definitely taking place and not getting canceled due to the storm.
“Test is on today,” a woman, one of the proctors, told Veronica. “Rosewood students should register in the library.”
“Half of the school isn’t even here,” Hanna said.
“And, they may never make it,” Veronica added. “We saw this huge tree down on Sawmill Road and they’ve closed off York street.”
“That wasn’t because of the storm,” a familiar voice replied from behind them and the four  best friends looked at each other in alert. Detective Wilden was the last person they wanted to see at the moment. They, along with Veronica, turned to face him. “York Street has been closed since last night.”
“Why?” Veronica questioned. 
“Somebody decided to pay a visit to Alison DiLaurentis’ memorial and destroy it,” Wilden informed them, making the girls’ hearts drop. “Shattered the tiles, broke the bench.”
“What?” Aria and [Y/N] whispered in shock. 
“When did this happen?” Spencer questioned.
“We had to cordon off the area, there’s an investigation going on,” Wilden stated, eyeing the girls rather suspiciously. 
“Spare them the details,” Veronica interrupted before Wilden could continue. “They’re about to take their SATs.”
“Right,” Wilden nodded, slowly backing away from them. “Good luck on the test, ladies.”
“We should get to the library,” [Y/N] said quietly and walked ahead with Hanna as the others followed.
...
The exam still hadn’t started and [Y/N] found herself alone in the music room after a while. She was seated on the window sill and leaned against the window with her eyes closed as she listened to the sound of the rain and winds. 
She felt exhausted with everything.
First, one of her best friends, Alison, disappeared a year ago only to be found murdered a few months back. Then, Jason DiLaurentis – her dead best friend’s brother and the man she had feelings for – returned to town to plan a memorial for Ali. Now, the memorial they put their hearts into was destroyed.
It also didn’t help that Emily was acting pretty strange. She hadn’t joined the rest of the girls the previous night to study for the exam, explaining that she didn’t get out of swim practice till late. Except, when Wilden had questioned about all of their whereabouts, Emily told him that she was with her friends to study for the exam. And, now, Emily was upset with them for questioning her on her lie and had stormed off. 
Everything was taking a toll on [Y/N] and all she wanted to do was go home, snuggle in her covers, and shut the world out for a while. 
“[Y/N]?”
The call of her name startled her and she snapped her eyes open, turning her head to face the doorway. To her complete surprise, there stood the man, who had captured her thoughts and more.
“Jason?” she asked, her voice indicating her surprise, as she moved her legs down to sit up straight. “What are you doing here?”
“Wanted to have a word with Detective Wilden,” Jason replied, walking further into the room, and his wet raincoat hung on his right arm. “Went to the police station and found out he was here.”
“Jason, it’s terrible out there,” she couldn’t help but say in concern. “You shouldn’t have driven in this weather. It’s dangerous.”
“I know, but I had to,” he said, pausing a foot or two away from where she was sitting. “I don’t know if you heard but Ali’s memorial was destroyed.”
“I heard,” [Y/N] whispered, dropping her gaze from his. “Detective Wilden told us.”
“I’m sorry,” Jason said a few moments later and [Y/N] looked up at him again in question. “I know that you and your friends worked really hard on it. I can only imagine how upset you guys must be.”
[Y/N] shrugged with a sad smile. 
“You can sit here if you’d like,” she said when she noticed Jason was still standing in front of her. He complied, sitting next to her with a small ‘thanks.’ “I’m sorry too.”
“For what?” he asked, confused. 
“For everything that’s happened since Ali’s disappearance,” [Y/N] replied. “It feels like… she can’t rest.” 
“More like Rosewood won’t let her rest,” Jason added with a bitter smile. 
“I’m still having a hard time processing this, to be honest,” [Y/N] commented. “Rosewood has always been a strange little town. Yet, it’s hard to believe that such a heartless person is out there who would destroy a memorial.”
“Do you or your friend know of someone who would want to hurt Ali?” Jason asked and [Y/N] froze in her spot. “Someone who must hate Ali to such an extent they’d go as far as to destroy a memorial for her?”
In [Y/N]’s opinion, the list of people who disliked Ali was rather endless. Unfortunately, her deceased best friend wasn’t the nicest person. She had bullied almost half of the school and had made more enemies than friends. One of Ali’s victims definitely had to be their faceless tormentor, A, and they had to be responsible for destroying Alison’s memorial the previous night. 
But, of course, she couldn’t exactly reveal all of this to Jason. 
“[Y/N]?” Jason called when she didn’t reply for a long time and the girl looked at him again. 
“I’m not sure, Jason,” she shook her head. “I have a feeling that there are probably a lot of people out there who didn’t- well, don’t like Ali and us. But, I don’t know anyone specific who could’ve done this.”
Jason seemed convinced and nodded at her answer. He was well-aware of the type of person his little sister was. Yet, it broke his heart that even after her death, someone was holding grudges against her. 
“Are you ready for the SATs?” Jason asked [Y/N], changing the topic from Alison.
“I- I guess so,” she shrugged with a low chuckle.
“Hey, it’ll be okay,” he said reassuringly, understanding how stressed she must be feeling. “Don’t think about anything now. Just focus on your exam, okay? I’m sure you’ll do great.”
“Well, it’d be greater if the exam gets canceled,” she said, causing him to laugh. “But, thank you, Jason.”
“Of course,” he said, still smiling. “And, I hope for your sake that the exam does get canceled.”
She laughed, shaking her head, before meeting his eyes. The two of them felt lighter for a moment despite the chaos that awaited them outside the classroom. The moment was soon interrupted when [Y/N]’s phone binged with an incoming text.
“Excuse me,” she said, moving to grab her cell phone from her bag, and Jason nodded, looking away. [Y/N] instantly tensed when she saw that the message was from none other than her and her friends’ faceless tormentor.
Define 'desertion.' Seems like you're about to lose Emily. Who's next? - A.
Just like that, the calmness Jason’s words and presence brought [Y/N] disappeared. She abruptly stood up, startling the man next to her.
“[Y/N]?” Jason called her name and she turned to face him while wearing her backpack. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes,” she breathed out, nodding her head rapidly. “I have to go.”
“Are you sure everything’s okay?” he couldn’t help but ask, having noticed her rapid breathing.
“Yes, yes, I just really have to go,” she replied, already walking towards the door. 
“Uh, okay, can I walk with you?” he asked. 
“No, no, it’s okay,” she said quickly, already out of the classroom. “I’ll see you later.”
Before he could reply, [Y/N] was already out of his sight. He was confused and a little suspicious by [Y/N]’s sudden anxious state. Soon, he walked out of the class too, hoping to find Wilden and also to check up on [Y/N] if possible too.
...
[Y/N] walked to the locker room to join the rest of her friends, who were all there except for Emily.
“[Y/N/N], where were you?” Hanna asked in concern.
“I- I just needed some time to myself,” [Y/N] answered and her three friends nodded in understanding. “Where’s Emily? Is she okay?”
“She’s right behind you,” Aria replied and [Y/N] turned around to see Emily walk towards them.
“Hey, Em, where were you?” Spencer asked gently when Emily stopped a few feet away from them.
“I was looking for my purse,” replied Emily, not meeting her friends’ eyes.
“Maybe it’s still in the library?” Hanna suggested.
Before the girls could talk further, they were interrupted by Wilden.
“Emily, we found something that belongs to you. Could you come with me, please?”
Without waiting for Emily’s reply, Wilden began to walk off while Emily turned to her friends, looking scared. [Y/N] held Emily’s hand in hers, nodding at her, wordlessly telling her that they were in this together.
“Emily, let’s go,” Wilden pressed sternly and the five girls walked behind him, annoyed and worried.
They followed Wilden to the library and their eyes widened when Wilden stopped by a table, where Emily’s bag sat.
“Perfect, we can all be together for an update,” he said in mock excitement as the girls stood in front of him.
“What’s going on?” Spencer asked first with her arms crossed across her chest. She wasn’t about to let Wilden intimidate her and her friends easily when they did nothing wrong.
“Did you tell your friends where you were last night?” he asked, facing Emily with a smirk. “When you weren’t studying for the test? See, because I got these really interesting photos…”
Wilden passed his phone to the girls and they were shocked to see the pictures of Emily at the site of Alison’s destroyed memorial.
“And, I see that you didn’t get a chance to clean your shoes either,” Wilden stated, looking at Emily’s muddy shoes.
“It wasn’t me, I swear,” Emily said in a shaky voice as tears ran down her cheeks.
“Oh, really? Were you there to cover up Toby’s tracks then?” Wilden questioned sarcastically.
“I found it like that,” Emily continued tearfully. “It was already destroyed when I got there.”
“And, this,” Wilden ignored Emily’s words and pulled out a piece of paper from his coat pocket. “Would you like me to share this with your friends or would you?”
Emily looked horrified and tried to snatch the paper from Wilden, but he held it away from her. Meanwhile, the rest of the four girls looked on, feeling confused and helpless.
“Go ahead and tell them, Emily,” he said with what [Y/N] would call a purely evil smile. “Tell your friends about the angry letter you wrote to Alison.”
“You had no right to read that,” Emily said tearfully, wrapping her arms around herself, [Y/N] instantly side-hugged her as she was standing next to her. 
“What’s in the letter, Em?” Spencer asked softly.
“Tell her, Emily,” Wilden snarled. “Tell her how you wanted to punish Alison for rejecting you. Tell her how you felt relieved at her funeral.”
“I went back to the memorial to say that I was sorry,” Emily said as [Y/N] rubbed her back. “I wrote that letter in anger and- and I didn’t mean the horrible things I said to her. I- I loved her as- as more than a friend.”
Emily looked down as she finished speaking, leaving her friends in surprise. They had no idea that Emily was in love with Ali. 
[Y/N] held Emily tighter when she felt the latter shake in her arms. Her hatred for Wilden was increasing day by day. She couldn’t believe he would go ahead and reveal such personal information about Emily. It should’ve been totally up to Emily on when or if she would’ve preferred to share this with her friends.
“Give her the letter back or I swear to god–” Hanna demanded, facing Wilden with fiery eyes. 
“Sorry, can’t do that,” was Wilden’s smug reply as he kept the letter back in his coat pocket. “We’re not leaving the room until Emily here tells me why she was carrying around pieces of Alison’s memorial!”
“Detective Wilden,” a familiar voice called and their heads turned towards the doorway of the library to see Jason standing there. 
He walked further inside the library, towards the detective and his sister’s friends. His eyes were narrowed and suspicious as he looked at the familiar faces gathered there. His suspicion soon shifted to concern when he noticed a teary Emily being held by [Y/N]. He looked at [Y/N] in question while she looked back at him helplessly.
“What’s going on here?” he asked sternly, turning to Wilden. “Shouldn’t they be with the other students?”
“It’s good that you’re here too,” Wilden smirked, taking Emily’s letter to Ali out of his coat pocket again. Then, he proceeded to show Jason the pictures of Emily at Ali’s trashed memorial, the figurines in her bag, and the letter.
“Stop,” [Y/N] interrupted before Wilden could explain the contents of Emily’s letter to Ali. “Jason, Emily didn’t do this, okay? She would never!”
“I believe you, [Y/N],” Jason replied instantly. “Emily or you girls are the last people I would expect to destroy Ali’s memorial.”
“The proof is right here, Jason,” Wilden scoffed in disbelief.
“Just because you can’t find the ones who committed the crime doesn’t mean you can go around and accuse my sister’s friends,” Jason said back. “Besides, you shouldn’t even be talking to these girls without their parents present!”
While Wilden was staring down Jason, Hanna was quick to grab Emily’s letter from his hand before moving back and the detective glared at her.
“Spencer?” another voice called and they turned around to see Veronica Hastings walk into the library, observing the people present there, especially Jason and Wilden rather cautiously. 
“Who are you?” Wilden questioned, annoyed. He was already in a foul mood as Jason hadn’t believed his accusations against Emily. 
Veronica was not at all fazed by the detective’s rude tone and her face was a mask of calm as she came to stand next to Spencer.
“Her mother,” she replied simply before her eyes fell on a crying Emily, then she turned to her daughter. “Honey, why is she crying?”
“Detective Wilden accused her of killing Alison,” Spencer replied.
“What?” Veronica asked, baffled.
“He also went through her purse and continued to accuse her,” Aria added. 
“Hold on, you’re questioning minors without an adult?” Veronica questioned the detective angrily. “What police department do you work for? What century are you in?” 
In the next few minutes, Veronica Hastings successfully shut Wilden’s mouth, causing him to leave the library in irritation while she proceeded to take the girls back to the locker room.
[Y/N] slowly trailed behind her friends and Spencer’s mom. She knew Jason was standing behind them and could feel his eyes on her. A part of her wanted to thank him for standing up to Wilden for her friends and her, while the other part was nervous to do so with a mini audience. 
With these thoughts swirling in her head, she was already outside the library when a hand held hers, stopping her. She looked to her right to see Hanna giving her an understanding smile. 
“Go talk to him,” she said softly. She glanced at Aria, Emily, Spencer and Veronica, who were walking ahead of them.  
“Han,” [Y/N] protested weakly.
“Go, I’ll cover for you,” Hanna interrupted. “Just be quick.”
“Thanks, Han,” [Y/N] said before turning around and walking to the library again. Once she reached inside, she saw Jason still standing in the same spot, staring at the ground and lost in his thoughts. 
“Jason?” she called softly, not wanting to startle him. 
He looked up at her, surprise evident in his eyes.
“[Y/N]? Is everything okay?” he asked in concern, walking towards her and she met him in the middle of the library. 
“Yes, yes,” she breathed out, nervously fiddling with her fingers as her gaze moved around the library for a few moments before finally meeting his attentive, green orbs. “I just wanted to thank you. For standing up to Wilden for Emily… and the rest of us.”
His lips pulled into a small smile as he looked at her.
“You don’t have to thank me,” he replied, shaking his head. “Wilden had no right to accuse Emily and intimidate you girls.”
“We’re kinda used to it by now,” [Y/N] shrugged with a humorless chuckle and Jason’s smile faded.
“Has he been bothering you and your friends?” he asked, a protective stance taking over him. “Do you want me to file a complaint against him?”
“No, Jason, don’t worry about it,” she shook her head. “I’m sure Mrs. Hastings scared him enough. You saw the way he kinda ran out of here, right?”
“Yes, but still…” he sighed. 
“I’m sure he won’t bother us anymore,” she said, smiling reassuringly at him. 
“Okay, I believe you,” he finally nodded, smiling back at her. 
“I should go now,” she said, slowly walking backwards. “Thank you again.”
“Anytime, [Y/N],” he answered and she gave him one final smile before walking out of the library. 
Once [Y/N] was out of his sight, Jason sighed and looked down at the carpeted floor of the library, wondering if it was right to feel the way he did for his deceased sister’s best friend.
—————
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insertsparkleshere · 1 year
Text
Five vs One
Summary: Five times you and Rosa kissed for show, and one time it was for real.
Word Count: 2,586
Pronouns: Implied she/her/hers
Published: 12/28/2022
Author's Note: My obsession with Rosa Diaz continues
Trigger Warnings: Some swearing, mentions of drugs, general police shit
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
1. Stakeout
You've been friends with Rosa for years. Ever since you transferred to the 99, she's been your partner. You work most of your cases together, you're the only member of the 99 that's actually been to her apartment, and you would say that you know her pretty well.
The silence is comfortable as you sit in the car. The two of you are on stakeout, trying to catch some poor drug dealer.
You yawn.
"You good?"
"Tired. I can't believe we have another hour of this shit."
"You want me to grab you a coffee? I'll buy."
"I won't say no to that."
Rosa comes back ten minutes later with your usual order, handing it to you as she slides into the driver's seat. "Anything new? Or is he still waiting for the buyer?"
"Still waiting, but I think he's getting suspicious. He saw me in the car, but I pulled out my phone and pretended I was calling someone, so I don't think he made me."
"Good."
You take a sip of your drink, once again lapsing into comfortable silence. The drug dealer (you can't remember his name) looks over at you again. He starts walking over to the car.
"Shit." You look at Rosa. "He made us."
"No, he didn't."
"What-?"
You haven't even finished getting the word out when Rosa pulls you forward into a kiss.
"Go with it," She says against you, but you decided to do that the moment it happened.
"Yep, doing that." You break away from her, face flushed, and look over at the dealer. "He went back."
"Good."
You both sit back into your respective seats. You're freaking out, but you're trying not to show it.
"Sorry. It was the only thing I could think of."
"It's fine."
2. Operation: Broken Feather
"Commence Operation: Broken Feather."
And with those words, everyone's off to their varying positions. And yet, nothing works. Charles spills his coffee, but the Vulture just wipes it off. Rosa flirts with him (you see red), but he moves on. For once, he's not interested.
"I can't believe I'm gonna do this." You march over to Rosa, determined and praying that Jake can get the confession soon. "No time to explain, come on."
You take Rosa through a back way. You stop where you know the Vulture will come out of the stairwell he took to get from the bathroom to the squad's floor. "Trust me?"
"Yeah."
You grab Rosa, pulling her into a kiss just as the Vulture comes out of the door.
"Woah!"
He stops for a few moments, staring, then you hear his footsteps recede.
"Damnit!" You say, pulling away once you're sure he's gone. "I really thought that was going to work."
"Uh...Yeah."
"Sorry. Only thing I could think of to stop him."
"It's fine."
3. Tactical Village
"How come you're so mad at Boyle?" You ask, creeping down the hallway. Charles is a few feet ahead of you, but you're careful. Quiet.
"He didn't invite me to his wedding."
"You can be my plus one."
"If he didn't invite me, that means he doesn't want me there."
"I'm sure there's a perfectly reasonable explanation for all of this. Just talk to him."
Rosa wrinkles her nose.
"Yeah, I know, feelings are for losers. But give it a try, okay?"
"Fine."
You hear something up ahead. Charles ducks through a side door, but there's nowhere for you and Rosa to hide.
"I have no clue if this is going to work," Rosa says, "but I need you to trust me."
"You know I do."
"I'm going to kiss you. When the perps come through, shoot them."
"Got it. You know we're being watched, right?"
"Yeah."
She presses her lips against yours, and you melt into the kiss like you always do.
Part of you wishes that you could do this more often, but you know that's not possible.
You hear footsteps, drawing closer.
"Woah. Uh, sorry."
You pull away, gun already in hand. You shoot one guy, and Rosa shoots the other. Green paint splatters across their chests.
"Don't be." You say. "It was just a distraction."
4. The Wedding
"We have a problem," Amy says.
"What's wrong?" You ask, pausing in your frosting of Rosa's wedding cake.
"Rosa's drunk."
"How?"
"Bellinis."
"I got it." You set your frosting bag down, wipe your hands on your apron, and set off for the small room Rosa's hunkered in.
"(Y/N)!" She slurs. "I'm getting married."
"Yes, you are. Which you need to be sober for. Come on, let's get you some water."
"No." She drags out the word, but you stand your ground.
"Rosa, you need to be sober to get married."
"Do I?"
"Yes." You sit down across from her at the table.
"You should have a drink."
"Absolutely not."
"You're so wound up! Why are you so stressed?"
"Because your wedding is today, Rosa, and you're currently drunk off of champagne, of all things. I mean, really, it's half bubbles."
"Yeah, but you shouldn't be stressed. This isn't your wedding."
"No, it's not. Which is why I'm going to drink my way through the ceremony and reception, but not while I am trying to make you a wedding cake."
"Huh?"
"I'm trying to make your wedding cake, Rosa."
"No, the other part."
"Ah, right. I am going to drink my way through the ceremony and reception."
"Why?"
"Because that's what you do at a wedding."
"No." Rosa gasps dramatically. "Is it because we've kissed?"
"What? No!"
"It is." Her eyes go wide. "Do you like me?"
"No, Rosa, I don't."
You hate lying to her.
She surges forward, kissing you hard.
"What about now?" She asks when she pulls back.
"Now...I need a bellini."
5. Nutriboom
"Why does this always happen?" You duck behind a door, praying the person goes away. "Seriously, every time!"
"It's comical." Rosa agrees, but she kisses you anyway.
+1. Show Me Going
“(Y/L/N), can I speak with you in my office?”
You jump. “Sorry. Startled me. Yeah, sure.” You stand and follow Holt into his office. “What’s up?”
“I wanted to ask how you’re doing. I know that you and Rosa are close, so you’re more likely to be particularly affected, what with her current involvement in the Brooklyn Heights shooting."
“Captain, I’ve been in love with Rosa Diaz for the last four years.” Your voice shakes a little, but you smile. “If I couldn’t take a little danger, I’d have broken a long time ago.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. I’m okay. Honestly, I’m more worried about the rest of the squad.” You look back and see Charles and Jake talking, while Terry gets his blood pressure checked. “Seriously, Boyle’s got that vein popping out in his forehead. You know the one, when he gets stressed?” Holt’s phone rings. “I’ll let you get that.”
You leave just in time to see Charles stand. “Shots fired. Shots fired!”
“What?” Jake exclaims.
“Is anybody hurt?” Terry asks.
“I don’t know.”
“Oh, man.”
“And, you’re BP’s at 290. Oh, 350. You broke the machine.” The guy next to Terry's desk says.
“Alright, screw this.” Jake stands and storms into Holt’s office. “There were shots fired.”
“I just got off the phone. There are two officers down.”
You run to the nearest trashcan, convinced you’re going to puke, but then you hear, “Neither one of them is Diaz,” and suddenly, you’re fine.
Holt shuts his door. You don't hear the rest of his conversation, instead sitting down at your desk. It's right across from Rosa's, a fact that you desperately try to ignore. You're trembling, but otherwise normal, so you take a breath and try to focus on paperwork. You put your headphones on, despite the ban against them, and blare your music as loud as you can in an attempt to drown out your thoughts.
A few songs later, someone taps you on the shoulder. You practically jump out of your skin, but when you turn around, you see Jake. “God, dude, don’t sneak up on me like that!”
“I got pizza. Come grab a slice.”
You shake your head. “Not really hungry.”
“Come on, eat. You haven’t had anything all day.”
“Fine.”
You stand up and grab a slice.
“Peralta, why are you back so soon?” Holt asks.
“Because I wanted to do something.” Jake turns back. “Hey, guys. How’re you holding up?"
“I mean, not great, but I know you really don’t want to talk about it,” Charles says.
“No. We should talk about it. I’m really scared for Rosa.”
“Yeah.” You say quietly. “I’m terrified that she’s gonna die and I’ll never actually have told her the truth.”
“Me, too.” Terry says. “I mean, the her dying part. It keeps making me think about my kids. How do I deal with the fact that every day I leave for work, I might not come home?”
“Man, I don’t even know, Terry. I don’t have kids yet, but I know you love them. And I feel like that’s all you can really do, right? I mean, now that I'm getting married, I keep thinking if something happens to me, it'll actually affect someone else.”
“I'd get over it eventually, after a lot of therapy.”
“I was more talking about Amy, but yes, you too, Charles.”
You all sigh.
“Hey, look at that. 130 over 80.” The guy next to Terry says. “Back to normal. I can get out of your hair now.”
“Nice. Told you, Andrew. Terry’s in tiptop. Thanks, Jake.”
“Yeah.” You say, nodding.
Jake turns to talk to Holt, and Charles’s phone goes off. “Guys!” He says. “Guys, guys, guys. They just took both shooters into custody. Officers got injured in the action. They don’t say how many.”
“Call Diaz. Get her cell.” Terry says.
Jake grabs his phone. “Damn it. It’s still just going to voicemail.”
“Let me try.”
Straight to voicemail.
“Her phone’s gotta be off, but I’ll try again.” You say. “She’s always picked up when I’ve called.”
“Adorable.” You glare at Jake. “Right, not the time. Just…glad that whole thing’s over.”
“For now.” You mutter.
Fifty minutes (or a lifetime, you aren't completely sure) later, Holt comes out of his office. He’d spent ages on the phone, trying to get in contact with someone who could give him the names of the injured officers.
“Okay.” He says. “I don’t have the names of the injured officers,” You swear internally, “but if Diaz is unharmed, she should be contacting us shortly. Or, if her phone is dead, perhaps she’ll be walking out of the elevator at any moment.”
Just then, the elevator dings. Your head snaps towards the doors.
They open…revealing Scully.
“Come on, Scully!”
“You can’t be doing stuff like that, man!”
“Fuck you!”
“I was just making a copy downstairs.”
“Yeah, well, next time, think.” Jake says.
“About what?”
“I don’t know!”
“Okay, Jake. Come on, man. Go easy on him.”
“Diaz!” Holt says, surprised.
“Rosa!” You and Jake say at the same time.
“You’re okay! Where’d you come from?” Jake asks.
“Felt like walking, so I took the stairs. Also, I thought it’d be funny to mess with you guys.”
“Rosa, you know I hate pranks.”
“You love pranks.”
“I do. I really do.” Jake hugs her tightly. “You did it so good.
“Were you guys worried about me or something?”
“No.” He says.
“I plead the fifth.” You put in, holding yourself back from running to her.
“So, what happened? Did they shoot at you?” Terry says. “Were you in the thick of it?”
“It’s been a really tough day. I just want to go get a beer. I don’t feel like getting into it.”
“Are you sure? Because the journey I went on today taught me that sometimes it’s best to talk about things-”
“Jake.”
“Right. It was a stupid idea. And Holt told me to do it, so. Let’s just go get a drink and sit in total silence.”
“Perfect. First, I gotta go to the can.”
“Actually, you might want to go check out the ladies’ room up here.” You turn at the sound of Gina’s voice. “Hey, Rosa, it’s me, Gina Linetti. Welcome back. Me and Amy made a little surprise for you, and I think you’re gonna like it very, very much. Come on, girl.”
You follow Gina and Rosa into the bathroom. You feel like if you don’t have your eyes on Rosa, she’ll disappear.
Also, you want to see how the bathroom turned out.
“Ta-da!” Gina says.
“You made it sound like you fixed the toilet.” Rosa says dryly.
“Yeah, I thought maybe Amy would’ve pulled something together in the two minutes I stepped outside.”
“Hey, Gina! Look what I stole from the Barnes and…Oh, my God, Rosa! I’m so happy to see you!” Amy runs forward, dropping the toilet seat she’s holding to hug Rosa.
“Wait, are you covered in toilet water?”
“Yes, big-time. But this is happening.”
“Ugh. Fine.”
“Kinda feel like I’m lurking.”
“Gina, get in here.”
“Yay!”
You hesitate.
“(Y/N), you too.”
You grin, rushing forward to hug the three of them.
“Do you mind if I come to Shaw’s?” You ask, once you're out of the bathroom and Amy and Gina are gone.
“Whole squad’s going. Let me go to bathroom, and I’ll drive you.” Rosa offers.
“You don’t have to-”
“You walk to work.”
“Fine.” You smile slightly, and go upstairs to grab your stuff from your desk. You meet her in front of the bathrooms, and follow her out to the parking structure. When you’re sure that you’re alone, you look at the ground. “You know, if you’d died, I’d have been so pissed.”
“Really?”
“I would’ve brought you back so I could kill you again.”
“Didn’t think you cared that much.”
“Of course, I care that much. You’re my partner. Half my cases, I work with you. Can’t have you dying on me, can I?”
Rosa doesn’t say anything.
“Seriously, though, you scared the shit out of me. Didn’t want to say anything in the precinct, I know you don’t like the mushy stuff.”
“Thanks.”
You stop in front of her bike.
“Do you really care that much?” She asks, giving you pause.
“What do you mean? Of course, I care. I don’t know if anyone told you, but I was close to a nervous collapse today.”
“Why?”
You stare at her, bewildered. “Why do you think?”
“We’re friends, but-”
“Rosa, I’ve…” You close your eyes. “Never mind. Let’s just go to Shaw’s, okay?”
“No. What were you going to say?”
“It’s nothing.”
Her voice drops. “It’s not nothing.”
“Rosa, trust me, it doesn’t matter.”
“No, it does matter. If you have something to say-”
“I told you it’s nothing!”
There’s a brief pause. You could cut the tension with whatever knife Rosa probably has in her pocket.
And then she lurches forward, and you don’t have time to say anything before she kisses you, hard.
You freeze, for a split second, and it’s enough that Rosa pulls back. You don’t let her go far, though, dragging her back to you. Butterflies erupt in your stomach.
She bites your lower lip, and you gasp.
“You know,” you say, between kisses, “I’ve been waiting four years for this. I mean...Except for all the fake ones.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Just…didn’t think it would happen."
“I’m glad I made the first move then.”
“Me, too."
You never do make it to Shaw’s.
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