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bearbluebooks · 8 months

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Chapter 10 - Delicate

This chapter contains: FLUFF

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Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9

Gwyn POV

In the aftermath of the daylight violence, she found solitude under the blanket of night. Here, she was embraced by the cover of darkness, it opened its arms open wide and welcomed her home.

Her childhood home was no longer, all that was left now lay in ruins. The sea was nothing but a distant memory. Her new story was difficult to write. But Helmerra felt more like home with every day that passed.

Nesta and Gwyn took up running just before she left to find Blue. Gwyn suggested it to Nesta one day and she enthusiastically agreed. Initially, it was a way to escape her mind, to push the thoughts away with each new step. Every increased heartbeat was one less thought in her brain. Naturally, it only worked for a short amount of time. As soon as her regular pace returned, so did her flow of thoughts.

Two days had passed since her capture by ‘Him Who Should Not Be Named’.

As soon as Azriel and Gwyn returned to Helmerra, several professors greeted them in a not-so-welcoming manner. Even Helion looked displeased at their unapproved expedition. Her reasoning didn’t suffice as justification, and both got punished as a result.

Helion’s face didn’t leave Gwyn’s memory, he seemed exceptionally alarmed by all the information they revealed about Koschei and the time Gwyn spent in his castle. She knew Koschei was dangerous but his face turned ashen. He lowered his voice so only Gwyn could hear him: “See me in my office tomorrow Gwyn, we have a lot to discuss.”

Azriel was given two weeks detention where he was expected to train first years. He seemed annoyed but at least he could share some of that expertise he always bragged about.

Gwyn’s punishment was less physical but just as demanding. Her library duty was doubled, yet her patience for Merril’s increasingly demanding chores seemed to have halved. She tried to sympathize, Helmerra was a refuge for priestesses, and everybody was there with a reason, but insults like “you’re so slow Gwyn, work harder, that is if you can” and “fetch me that book, acolyte” made it more challenging every day that detention went on.

On top of that, nightmares never left her body or her mind. All the horrors that transpired in the last couple of months seemed to find a place in her dreams.

Powerlessness followed her every waking moment into sleep.

She vowed to never feel so helpless again.

It was that pledge and her latest nightmare that led her to the secret rooftop in the middle of the night.

She used every opportunity she got to become as strong as she could possibly be. Whether that would be through her body or her powers, she was only skilled enough to train one by herself at the moment.

When she first came to Helmerra and learned about her powers they always felt buried deep underneath the ocean floor, where she could feel them, but never reach them. Since she reconnected with Blue, her powers were no longer buried but burst out of her like hot lava out of a volcano. Unpredictable and scorching hot, literally. She already lost count of all the things she destroyed when she lost control of her emotions. They seemed to be tied together, both as unpredictable as the tides.

Helion invited her to a secret instruction class for Royals. She already attended once. She felt out of place and too self-aware. These were all students who had trained for years, she did not even know magic existed until a couple of months ago. She was used to being the best in everything she did, and this felt distressing, to say the least.

They were all so talented and powerful. There was Lucien’s half-brother Eris, who also had red hair. He was said to be ruthless, but he had never been anything but kind towards Gwyn. The second oldest was Tamlin, who had blond hair and was more reserved than the males she usually encountered at Helmerra. Kallias was just as silent, but in a far more intimidating manner. His white hair and gray eyes didn’t help his intimidating presence.

Gwyn was glad to have Rhys and Lucien in the class. It offered relief in the predominantly male-dominated class. Another familiar face was Tarquin. They were in the same year. She recognized him from potion’s class.

Helion also urged Gwyn to get her powers under control as soon as possible. Gwyn told him about the prophecy and his first reaction was to hit himself on the head exclaiming “how did I miss this?” He vowed to help her in every way he could.

Another class she was thankful for, was Devlon’s self-defense class. He certainly had his flaws, but he was useful at times. His fighting sequences proved particularly valuable at the moment. She wanted to learn them all as well as she could. She started with defensive techniques by enhancing her speed and skill. Gwyn knew she was smaller than most opponents, but she was also faster, and smarter.

That’s what she focused on. She learned how to move fluidly and swiftly like water.

Most importantly: she learned how to observe the opponent. To learn their weaknesses, their tells, and their flaws. To always be a step ahead of them.

Her movement had improved a lot since she first set foot in the ring. But she was not on the level she needed to be, as proven by her recent encounter.

She was still struggling with offensive fighting techniques. That’s why she focused on repetition: to build muscle memory which she could always fall back on. And to build some muscle in the meantime.

That’s why she was kicking the training dummy with the force of a storm in the sequence Devlon pushed into them last week. She could hear his belting voice in her head as if he was standing next to her:

Punch them in the solar plexus with your fist.

Chop or poke their neck above the collarbone.

Knee a male in the groin.

Kick the side of their kneecap as hard as you can.

Drive the base of your palm into the underside of their nose.

Strike their windpipe with your fist.

She repeated the sequence until her hands were red by force. And then she continued until they bled the color of crimson.

The memory of her attackers flashed in and out of her mind. Their faces appeared on the dummy and her hits became more powerful and exasperated. After a while, she couldn’t feel her hands anymore. And the aggression seemed directly channeled into her fists. Out of her body. Into the imagined enemy in front of her.

Her breathing became heavy as her heart beat fast from movement and memory.

She was so in the zone she did not hear the figure approaching her from behind.

When she turned around to hit her attacker in the pit of their stomach, a scarred hand grabbed hers as a deep baritone voice said: “are you sure you know what you’re doing Berdara?”

She smiled as she said, “I’m sure you hear that all the time, shadowsinger, but I’m very capable, thank you.”

The look in his eyes transferred to his mouth, as he smirked and said in a raspy voice: “you have not begun to see all the things I’m capable of. But I’m very willing to show you. If you’ll let me.”

The thick voice transported her to the memory of her first kiss which she tried very hard to avoid. Not because she wanted to forget it, on the contrary, she was so aroused and thunderstruck she had a hard time thinking about anything else. But that was exactly the problem. It had no place in the training ring, she needed to focus on getting better, not on that sultry voice coming out of that very kissable mouth.

She shouldn’t spend any more time thinking about those luscious lips that only needed to touch hers and she already forgot her name. Not to mention his tongue that knew exactly where to move. The harder she tried to forget that moment, the more that burning sensation returned to her core.

He was so capable in fact, that they both forgot danger lurked just behind them, as they were completely lost in each other and the kiss.

The redness of her injured hands, now moved directly to her cheeks, when he moved her hand to his mouth and placed a kiss on it. His eyes burned with a passion that Gwyn would have shied away from before, but she felt so safe in his presence now, she allowed herself to become completely entranced by those hazel eyes.

He gently pulled her closer to him again.

She loved it when he did that. She loved the closeness.

She closed her eyes as he lowered his head and used that deep sultry voice to whisper in her ear “shall I show you now?”

Gwyn whimpered in response- she had never whimpered in her life, “I’m training, you can’t distract me Azriel.”

She could kick herself.

Those kisses transported her nightmare-filled thoughts directly into a place of pure pleasure. Where nothing else existed except him.

He moved his hands to her hips, pulling her flush to his body.

She knew he would stop if she said the word. That’s what made her lose herself in his embrace. The safety of knowing he would let go if needed.

All she could smell now was cedar and night-chilled missed.

All she could feel was a deep need to have a thorough demonstration of his gifts.

He took her earlobe in his mouth, sucked on it, and whispered “okay. Let’s go Berdara.”

His voice went straight to her core, yet his body moved away.

She quickly moved in front of him and pushed his body against the wall behind him with more force than she intended to.

His hot lips found hers again. He started with slow, gentle kisses on her mouth. Taking his time. She softly took his lower lip in hers again and gave a slight bite. She remembered he liked that last time. He licked the spot she bit and gave a small chuckle. “Fuck, Gwyn.”

“You’re killing me.”

This time she smiled. She guessed that was a good sign? She vowed to ask him later if she could do anything to improve her kissing. She had no experience and Azriel was so good at it. The whole world ceased to exist, as she was lost to the kiss and his touch. She wanted their kisses to be magical for him, too.

His scarred hands moved to her backside as he pulled her into his lap.

She loved the friction the momentum caused and she tried to chase it by pushing her hips into his in an almost rhythmic movement. The kiss turned so desperate Gwyn’s body curved into Azriel’s.

Azriel groaned into her mouth.

A smile formed on his lips.

“Gwyn… that’s…”

He groaned again.

The sound almost turned her on more than the friction did.

His shadows danced around them. Both in joy and disguise. She loved those obsidian embodiments of night.

Then he pushed his tongue against her lips again. Gwyn opened greedily and allowed him inside.

His tongue sensually caressed hers in slow languid movements. He moved his hand to the back of her neck and slightly angled her head so he had better access.

His lips were hot and hungry.

They moved to her neck, where he placed small kisses and slowly licked a trail up her neck.

This time she moaned, “Azriel.”

She didn’t mean to say that out loud. Her face became red again.

His hazel eyes stared darkly into hers. As if the mention of his name was a magic spell that unleashed something in him.

He hungrily kissed her again. As he said into her mouth “I want to take you somewhere tomorrow.”

His face moved back a little bit to asses her eyes, after which he placed another quick kiss on her mouth.

Gwyn smiled so brightly she was sure happiness radiated from every pore, “I would love to…

…where are you taking me?”

He had that mischievous glint in his eyes as he said “it’s a surprise.”

She both loved and detested that look. She always had trouble letting go of control so she hated surprises with a passion. Catrin loved them. Every holiday her mom had to coordinate secrets and information skillfully.

“I don’t do well with surprises”, she said a little hesitantly. She didn’t want to disappoint him but she also didn’t want to pretend she was something else.

Azriel contemplated the new information. Devising a new plan, she was sure.

That made her smile a little bit again.

“I’ll pick you up at 7 p.m. Wear something you feel comfortable in.

It will only be the two of us. I’ll make sure we are back before the bells chime.” His eyes looked slightly insecure. As if he believed Gwyn would not want to spend time with him.

So she quickly replied, “I’ll be ready.”

He smiled brightly now too.

He softly placed a kiss on her lips again as he said “good.”

“Now let’s train. You need to put more weight into your dominant leg when you hit your opponent.”

‘Moment over’ Gwyn thought jokingly.

------

Azriel POV

He needed to shut down whatever was happening between him and Gwyn before his cock became even more strained in his pants.

He took a deep breath.

Grandma's in the shower. Gwyn in danger. Animals dying.

That helped tamper his arousal a little bit. At least to where he could actually function.

Gwyn and Azriel spent the whole night training.

After Gwyn’s abduction, he secretly sent a shadow to stay with her. It was more than happy to comply. Azriel actually saw it dance towards her, happy to be able to exist in her presence day and night.

It gave Azriel slight relief, to have eyes on her at all times. He made sure to give her some privacy, they served more as a warning signal than a bodyguard.

That was what he was for, and her training. So she could guard herself.

She was already impossibly fast. He was proud of her and how far she had come. Her stubbornness was useful in more ways than one, he thought to himself, as she kicked him in the stomach and made him stumble back a few steps.

Wounded pride and delight filled his body. He should’ve anticipated that move, he was distracted in her presence, and her swift movements made good use of that. Clever.

He smiled as he wrapped his arms around her middle, pulling her into his embrace as he whispered “I was supposed to meet Rhys and Cassian half an hour ago.”

Gwyn chuckled “if you don’t want your ass kicked anymore you could just say that, you don’t need an excuse.”

Her head was under his chin now. He moved his hand up and down her back, and rested it on the small of her back. He whispered in her ear again “I don’t need to resort to tricks to get you to do what I want.”

He felt her shiver. Payback.

“Let me take you to your room, Gwyn.”

She moved her head from under his chin to look him in the eyes “I’m going to stay for a bit longer, but you go.”

“Are you sure? You can kick the crap out of me some more, just say the word.” He said with a wink.

She smiled as she said, “I’m sure, I think one bruise is enough for the night.”

She remained silent for a little bit before she continued, “thank you for training me tonight, Azriel.”

He just smiled as his shadows winnowed him away from Gwyn, into his bathroom. Words couldn’t express what he wanted to say- everything for you, I never want to see you hurt again if I can’t be there, at least you can be there for yourself. So he chose to say nothing at all.

Before he could meet his brothers, he needed to release the leftover tension. He closed the bathroom door, and took his throbbing cock in his hand as images of the beautiful copper-haired female flooded his mind. His release never came so quick, yet it only scratched the surface of the tightness he felt in his body. Not even his own hand could satisfy him anymore. Trouble.

--------

They met in the bar just outside of Helmerra. The dark-lit space was made entirely out of wood. There was a dance area, where the bar was located, and a more private area with tables and chairs to watch the lively scenery from a distance. Azriel’s favorite spot.

It used to be a weekly tradition. Life and love made the occurrence more uncommon than routine.

The music was booming so loud, he could feel the beat reverberate in his eardrums.

People swayed to the rhythm of the music. The amount of people in here was a problem waiting to happen.

Alcohol flowed as easily into mouths as the gossip that was being spewed.

Azriel, Rhys, and Cassian sat in their usual corner.

It felt like old times. The natural familiarity they automatically slipped into whenever they were together. The inside jokes and the natural understanding they all shared due to the years growing up together. They could be assholes at times, but he appreciated these moments.

Cassian and Rhys sometimes entered the dancefloor, but Azriel rarely did. He could dance, that wasn’t the issue. His mother was a gifted dancer and the scarce time they were allowed together she spent imparting some of her passion.

When she was only 18, Adelphi Black, met the love of her life on a busy marketplace. Every Tuesday she would accompany her dad to help sell their family business. For generations, the Black family gained their wealth from flowers. Their estate, Rosehall, was the only place a certain flower could grow. The unique soil and the air quality provided the necessary conditions for the Eralda to thrive.

Adephi was the oldest of two and therefore expected to take over the family legacy. In secret, she pursued her dream: to become a dancer. Even though they were better off than most in their village, Adephi was always drawn to the lavish and opulent promises of wealth. Ever since she was a little girl, she dreamt of the pearly possibility.

That’s what drove her into the arms of the much older Illyrian male. He was charming at first. Lavishing her with gifts, attention, and promises. Her father was almost as enamored by him as she was. When he asked for her hand, he happily granted it, despite her predetermined future as flower heiress.

Her happiness was quickly reversed when she met not only his wife but also his two young sons. She was never meant to be his wife, only his mistress. The realization hit hard, especially with the baby boy growing inside her pit of despair.

When Adimus, Azriel’s father, found out about the growing danger to his good name, he arranged for the cell to be built. It was home for the first eleven years of Azriel’s life.

His stepmother, Haera, made sure no windows were installed, light was to be part of Azriel’s life for only one hour a week. His mum’s presence was even more rare: one hour a week.

That hour was when Azriel was happiest. It was as if his mother vowed to show him all the light in the world, not just from the sunshine that could finally hit his skin, but from the movement he wasn’t allowed, from the music he believed to be magic, and from the feel of another person’s love.

He loved dancing. Especially because it reminded him of his mother. He just enjoyed watching more than being watched. Being the center of attention was overrated, in his opinion. Careful observation was where the real power was. To listen to what was being said, and observe what remained unspoken.

People always thought they were so secretive, in their whispered affections and stolen touches, when one look would expose everything. He didn’t even need his shadows to bring light to the obscure, only his eyes.

That was one of the things he liked most about Gwyn. She unabashedly wore her heart on her sleeve. No mask, no pretense, only Gwyn. That made her the most mysterious person of all.

“What’s been up with you, brother? We’ve hardly seen you in the last couple of weeks.

Does it have anything to do with ‘too good for you’ Gwyn?” Cassian said with a snicker and a smack on his shoulder.

“Shut up,” Aziel replied with a shove in Cassian’s chest.

“You better know what you’re doing, Azriel.” Rhys chimed in.

Why didn’t they ever mind their own business? He knew she was too good for him, he didn’t need his brothers reminding him of that fact. The sentences did latch onto some other emotions Azriel buried deep. They took root and cast a shadow over his previously delirious and singular passion.

“It’s not any of your business.” He bit back. He was not discussing this with them. What he had with Gwyn was delicate and brand-new. He hadn’t even talked about it with Gwyn.

Time to change topics. Half of Rhys’ brain was perpetually occupied with politics- the other half with Feyre, and Cassian was always in for talking battle strategy.

Being focused was always more useful than being the focal point: “what are we going to do about the asshole who abducted Gwyn?”

“You mean ‘he who should not be named’?” Cassian said.

“My dad had a meeting with the other high lords. He said there was another attack in the Winter Court. The whole village of Kincardine was slaughtered.”

All three brothers became silent. Paying respect to another fallen village.

They were too late again.

“It was different from the other attacks. They were lethal, but they were hunting for something. There was always a specific intent. This time it was like they sent a message. They burned the whole village down with some kind of lightning strike. They even left a mark of the sun behind.”

“It is said to be the same mark they cast in the sky before they storm a village,” Rhys explained.

“We need to go to that village,” Azriel said.

“That was my next point.” Rhys interrupted.

“My dad is not sending more troops there. He wants to sent them to other villages he thinks will be next.”

“One of the sun sages was caught. He wants you to interrogate him.”

“Cassian and I will strategize how we can slip out and go to Kincardine, and get back without being detected.”

“You will meet us there when you’re done.”

“We’ll go tomorrow night.”

Azriel only nodded his head in confirmation.

The night was already coming to an end. The crowd slowly made their way towards their beds again. Some their own, some to less familiar beds.

Azriel also opted for a different bed, as he stood in front of the now-familiar door. He contemplated entering. His shadow informed him Gwyn had been asleep for hours, but something felt wrong about violating her privacy- any further. So he took a deep breath and put the gift in his shadow.

The daily gifts stopped when they were outside Helmerra, continuing would make it undeniable they came from Azriel.

Now they were back, so he resumed his mission to make her room less empty. He never wanted her to feel like she lived in a cage without light.

He imagined, how her eyes lit up with every new addition to her life. How those teal eyes sparkled similarly those glimmering rays hitting the surface of the sea. That magical dance of light that seemed to transcend reality. It slightly melted away some of that ice his brother’s comments cast. He still tucked away the thought. He buried it deep, where it glinted quietly. A thing of delicate, secret beauty.

The day passed by normally. Gwyn had something called ‘Smut Sisters’, some kind of book club with Emerie and Nesta, and he read up on reports and prepared for the mission he would go on tonight after their date.

He planned this night since they got back. It had to be perfect. It was their first ever date. He thought long and hard about what to do, where to go, what to bring, and most importantly: what to say.

Azriel decided on the sea near Rosehall. He prepared a picnic on the cliff overlooking the big blue expanse, and another surprise.

Gwyn was speechless when they stepped foot outside of his shadows. That was a good sign, he thought?

“Azriel did you make me a picnic?”

“I didn’t know you were such a romantic.” She said half teasing and half pleasantly surprised.

“There’s a lot you still don’t know about me.” He said with a wink.

Was that cheesy or sexy? He really hoped the latter. He wasn’t used to working this hard for a female, he never really wanted to, nor did he need to.

“This is where I grew up. My mom still lives close by.”

“I thought it would remind you of home too.”

“I love it,” Gwyn said as she took his face in her hands. Forcing eye contact.

He saw the sparkle in her eyes he so often imagined. With the mirror image playing out right behind her back. Gwyn’s eyes seemed to shine even brighter than the stars dancing on the water’s surface.

They stared into each other’s eyes for a little while longer before they sat down on the red checkered blanket Azriel put down shortly before he picked up Gwyn.

When he stood in front of her door at 7 p.m. sharp, he was not prepared for the magnificent sight that awaited him behind the door. Gwyn opted for a dark green silk dress that reached just below her knees, she wore a knitted white vest that clasped just in front of her chest. The sleeves were so long they covered her hands. She wore white sneakers underneath. The top of her hair was braided, leaving most of her hair to fall on her back.

Azriel decided to wear something casual yet formal, he landed on his black dress shirt, which he strategically unbuttoned so his silver necklace was visible and most of his tattoos. He wore simple black pants and his most non-traditional black shoes.

Maybe he should have dressed more casually, especially now that he was so uncomfortable on the blanket, but he wanted it to be special so he would endure it.

He picked up all of Gwyn’s favorite things: chocolate cake, lemon tarts, some kind of rhubarb tartlet, and soda. He brought extra blankets for when she got cold. He contemplated bringing another gift, but he decided to continue under the veil of secrecy. Maybe she wouldn’t accept them anymore if she knew they came from him.

Gwyn’s eyes became big as they took in the sight. “You did all this for me?”

“What are you going to eat?” she said jokingly.

“You better leave some for me Berdarra. I had to fight to get that chocolate cake.”

“Maybe you have to fight me for it. I’ve been training with a gifted Shadowsinger. And I recently acquired a dagger. I make quite the opponent, I’ll have you know.”

“I don’t doubt that.” He said with a smile.

“You wouldn’t happen to know anything about the dagger that showed up in my room this morning. Or all the other presents that have filled my room, would you? She said with a glint in her eyes that he couldn’t place, he hadn’t seen it on her face before.

Oh no. He had been caught. Either she was too smart or he was not as skilled as he thought he was. Would he commit to the mystery, or admit to the reality?

After everything that happened, he promised himself -and more importantly Gwyn- he would be honest. Although he was building up to revealing everything, he could admit this. It wouldn’t be so bad. He had good intentions. She would see that. She would.

His shadows danced chaotically around them now. The one loyal shadow that always seemed to be drawn to Gwyn was floating behind her now. He could almost see its crossed arms and judgmental look.

“Yes.” He said. “I do.”

“Why?”

“Do I need a reason?”

“Why did you do it Azriel? You hardly knew me when the first gift came.”

That was partly true, but he wouldn’t tell her that tonight. He wasn’t ready for that conversation. He wasn’t ready to lose her.

“I wanted to…” his voice became more quiet as he searched for words to express everything he was feeling. He couldn’t smile his way out of this one.

“You deserved to feel at home.”

He hoped that was enough for now. He hoped she wouldn’t press him further. He was never good with words and experience taught him the less he said the less trouble his mouth would get him in.

“Thank you. That was really nice.”

She deserved the whole truth: “I bought the necklace as a Solstice present for Elain.”

“Then we broke up.”

“I wanted to return it. But then you moved into the priestess dorms.”

“I wanted somebody to enjoy it.”

“Oh.” She responded quietly.

Then she remained silent. As if her brain was working through all the new information.

After a little while she broke the tension “thank you for being honest.”

She sat down, folding her knees underneath her body. She held her hands out to pull him onto the blanket as well.

“This is lovely, Azriel.”

She moved closer and wrapped her hands around his scarred fingers. Giving them a light squeeze, as if saying, thank you.

“What’s your favorite color?” she suddenly blurted out, shattering the tension that was building up in the air. It did nothing to lessen the desire that always flooded his veins, her proximity only made it more all-consuming. Even though he made sure to visit the bathroom to clear his head (both of them) before picking up Gwyn.

“Blue.”

“Not black?” she joked.

“That’s my last name, actually.”

She laughed now. A proper belly laugh that reverberated through his soul. Was there a nicer sound in the word?

“Of course it is.” She said in between laughs.

“Why do you say that” he said with nothing but peaked interest.

“You only wear black, your shadows are black, I am willing to stake my new dagger on your whole room being black. Black bedsheets, black curtains, black wardrobe, black bed. Your sarcan is black.”

“I’m just saying, it makes sense.”

Shit. She was right.

“Maybe I’ll show you, maybe I’ll continue the mystery.” He said with a smile.

He hoped he could prove her right one day. But only when she was ready.

“Would you like to dance, Gwyn?”

That took her by surprise. That made two of them.

He stood up and took her hand in his. There was no music but he could swear a faint beautiful sound danced around them. He listened to the sound and hummed along. Gwyn seemed to pick up the tune just as easily. Could she hear it too, he wondered?

He placed his other hand on the small of her back. He used the movement to pull her closer to his moving body. He took her through his favorite dance, the Quake. Its swift yet intimate movements made it perfect for their first dance.

Gwyn was quite tall for a female, yet she still barely reached his chin. She rested her head on his chest. He almost forgot he had another surprise.

After dancing until his feet hurt in what he thought were comfortable shoes he asked: “Gwyn, would you like to go for a swim?”

“I didn’t bring any swimming clothes!” she said with a look in her eyes that seemed to say ‘this is why I don’t like surprises’.

He needed to think of something fast. “Why don’t you wear my shirt, it will cover most of your body,” he said a little bit proudly.

“Only if you feel comfortable! I’ll turn around.” He said quickly.

“Okay.” She said with a confidence he was relieved to hear.

He turned around and undressed his upper body. Once he removed his shirt, he held it in his scarred hand and reached it behind him. It was quickly picked up by a much smaller pale hand that rested her hand in his a little bit longer than was necessary. Sparks ignited in its wake.

He moved down towards the beach, granting her space to change.

He stood in the water, where gentle waves drenched his pants. Which he very purposefully kept on, he was already afraid he made her uncomfortable with his bare chest. No need to further add to it.

His shadows warned him she was descending, so he flexed his muscles just a little bit. First impressions mattered.

“You can turn around” she yelled above the cresting waves.

So he did. Slowly he tried to prepare his heart for the sight of her in his clothes. But no amount of time could have readied his body or his mind for the absolutely breathtaking view that walked down the cliffside. Towards him.

Her long pale legs were barely visible under his black shirt. It was so big on her, that she practically drowned in it. She had rolled up the sleeves to reveal her delicate hands. She buttoned up the shirt to cover most of her chest but he could still see some of her freckles. How he loved those tiny brushes of sun. Her hair was braided and swayed in the wind. Her eyes shone bright in the moonlight as if joy added an extra layer of radiance to her teal eyes.

It felt as if his heart stopped beating. As if it was waiting to be dropped back to earth. Into his body. It felt like a dream. He was sure he actually dreamt about this moment once. If it was a dream, he prayed to the Cauldron to never let him wake up. He could live in this moment for eternity.

“You’re staring.” She said, as she suddenly stood in front of him.

“You’re beautiful Gwyn.”

What else could he say to convince her of that fact? He didn’t want to scare her. But he also desperately needed her to know how celestial she was. Her copper hair that flowed in the air, her teal eyes that bore into his soul, her luscious lips he never wanted to leave him, her delicate hands that he wanted to be wrapped around his neck.

As she finally stood in his orbit, she pulled him further into the sea.

There was magic in the air, not the Helmerra kind, but the otherworldly kind. The waves were such a deep aquamarine not even Feyre’s painting skills could do it justice. The air was crisp and clear. The night sky was illuminated by thousands of stars. Normally starlight was not as visible because of other light sources polluting its radiance. They were now so far from civilization that it wasn’t a problem here. The stars danced in all their glory.

The water was up to her chest now, it barely reached his middle. His shirt clung to her body, making all her curves visible. He tried very hard not to stare. He focused on a spot just behind her head. Just so he didn’t see those full breasts that fit her body so perfectly.

He was very grateful his lower half remained underwater because his cock sprung to attention again. She moved closer to his body, as she wrapped her legs around his. He prayed she wouldn’t feel the growing effect she had on him. She rested her head on his shoulder and he couldn’t remember another moment he felt so at ease, so at peace. They drifted like that for a little while. Getting lost in each other’s touch and the rising movements of the sea.

It was a little while before Azriel’s second surprise joined their little pocket of safety. The familiar melodic growl took them out of their sole focus. Gwyn left his grasp and swam towards her sarcan. “Oh Mother, Blue? What are you doing here?

“I missed you!”

Azriel couldn’t help but smile. As he watched Gwyn and that natural playfulness he adored so much. Blue and Gwyn resumed their easy companionship, as her shadow darted in and out of their synchronized movements.

Blue had been accepted into the stables for Helmerra sarcans. He visited her yesterday to set up the surprise. Sarcans could only communicate with their companion, so Azriel never got a confirmation other than a small nod, but he was sure Blue adored Gwyn as much as he did.

“Azriel come over here!”

He swam over to the joyful duo- or trio? And watched the lighthearted scene that played out in front of him.

After an hour or so, he regretfully had to end the fun, as the bells were about to chime and he promised to get her back in time.

“Gwyn.”

“We need to go back.”

“Noooo, five more minutes.”

He smiled. “Sure, I’ll grab our stuff. Meet me on top of the cliff.”

As he made his way up, he looked back a couple of times. He wanted to imprint this memory so Feyre could perhaps paint it one day.

If Gwyn would reject him after he told her the whole truth, at least he would always have this.

He winnowed them back to the front of her door as promised. They stood like that for a little bit. Baskin in each other’s presence. Not wanting to be the first to break it off.

She moved a little bit closer. Then she stood on her toes and kissed him.

First his cheek, then his mouth.

She licked his lower lip, asking to deepen the kiss.

He opened greedily. Not wanting this night or this moment to end either. She kissed him deeply and fervently.

Then she pulled away.

“Azriel….”

“Yes, Gwyn.” Should he be amused or worried?

“…. You’re so good at kissing. And I….”

“… I have never kissed anybody before…”

“… and you’re so good…”

“… and I want to be that good for you too. So if I can anything better… or different…”

“Please let me…”

Was she serious? He had never had kisses that did that to his body. Cauldron he was hard just thinking about those lips. If this was all they would ever do, he would die a very happy male. Existing in her presence was more than enough, and he was grateful for every second.

He took a step forward and interrupted her by saying in a raspy voice “Gwyn…”

He delicately grabbed her neck, lowered his head, and whispered against her mouth “…yours have been the best kisses I’ve ever had.” He kept holding her neck as he turned them both around, lightly pushing her against the door. Never stopping the kiss, only deepening it. Then he smiled against her lips.

Before he stopped as his shadows whispered in his ear someone was in her room.

#gwynriel #gwyn acosf #gwyn x azriel #azriel shadowsinger #acotar #acotar alternate universe #acotar fanfiction #gwyneth berdara #a court of silver flames #ao3 fanfic

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acourtofsnakes · 3 years

Text

Nar dralshy'a - Rogue, Chapter 24| The Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader

Gif by: @ansonmount

Summary: After your successful escape from Moff Gideon’s cruiser, you and Din decide to take some time off. Unfortunately, you begin to have some rather... interesting dreams.

Warnings: 18+ Smut!!! Like, intense smut. Threesome (mmf), blowjob, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, multiple penetration, anal (m receiving, f receiving), voyeurism, masturbation, multiple orgasms, literally just... Sex. Some swearing too, injury detail - this is pure filth.

A/N: I have nothing to say but enjoy. I feel this makes up for no chapter last week. Have fun ♥︎

(Dream scene/smut is from roughly just after the middle to the end. Skip if it isn’t your thing♥︎)

Word Count: 4.6k+

Rogue Taglist: @snipskixandbeskar @weirdowithnobeardo @the-bottom-of-the-abyss @kenoobiwan @sarahjkl82-blog @boomtownboy @goldielocks2004 @seninjakitey @what-iwish-you-knew @queenofthefaceless @rosiefridayrogersunday-reads @greeneyedblondie44 @itsnottilly @welcometothepedroverse @xgoldenjenny @mamacitapascal @heyitsjaybird @amyk-37 @greatcircle79 @mikariell95 @justdrawings101

Permanent Taglist: @greeneyedblondie44 @mamacitapascal @mypedrom @kaylee-krystal @queenofthefaceless

Mando’a Translation: Nar dralshy'a - Put your back into it

Din is alive. Din is alive. Din is alive. Din is alive. Din is alive.

Those words repeated like a frantic mantra in your head, the whole way back to Boba’s ship.

You encountered no one, even as Din stumbled and staggered along between you all.

You knew that it mortified him, having to be half carried. But there was no way he could move on his own. And he was hovering on the edge of unconsciousness as it was.

Din tipped his head back, looking at you through his cracked visor, “You came back for me…” His words were a little slurred and awestruck, like he was dreaming. The utter tone of disbelief broke your heart.

This man had been left so many times… Could he even comprehend that you’d brought a team to infiltrate an Imperial Cruiser, face down not only Moff Gideon, but also a Shadow King from legend, and still walk – stumble – out of here?

Probably not.

You looked down at him, wishing you could caress his face, his jaw – anything. “Of course I came back for you. I’d always come back for you.” You pressed your forehead to his, in that beloved keldabe kiss that meant so much to you both.

Din let out a soft huff of breath, maybe a smile beneath the visor…

And then collapsed.

~~~

The following four hours were some of the worst of your life. Ahsoka and yourself had used your powers to assess his injuries and… The poor man was battered.

How he had survived a fall like that in a body full of rock hard beskar, you would never, ever know.

Clearly the Maker was watching out for him.

Regardless, healing him came with its own set of difficulties.

Naturally, you couldn’t remove Din’s armour, so you and Ahsoka had to make do with healing through it… Which meant you had no idea if what you did actually worked, since he was still out cold.

You’d managed to pop his shoulder back in, one of you pushing with the Force and the other pulling – even if it had sent another crack through his collarbone that you swore you could feel in your own body.

Hour by hour, you worked carefully to heal your fallen warrior.

Even after those four hours, after you were emotionally, mentally, and physically spent, he still wasn’t fully healed. His ankle remained sprained beneath his boot, his broken bones still requiring at least a week’s rest and as for any lingering effects in his head and internal organs… Well, that was something you would have to monitor yourself over the coming days.

Din had started to stir during the treatment on his ribs, groaning in pain with his skin flushed and clammy beneath the armour – or so you gathered from the thin strip of skin showing at his wrist. Ahsoka had quickly pushed him back into unconsciousness, where he still remained now.

He was laying on a collection of cloaks and blankets, on the only bit of free floor space at the back of the ship – he was a rather tall, broad man. You were curled on the floor next to him, his gloved hand clasped between two of yours and you just watched his covered face.

More than anything, you wish you were able to see him.

See that face that you already cherished, held so dear in your heart without even needing to see it.

He could have died, and you would never have known the colour of his eyes.

You respected his Creed, never questioned it, but… You would be lying if you didn’t admit that lately, that urge to see him had become a living, breathing thing.

To see his lips, curling up into a smile… Maybe he had dimples.

The frown as the kid did something, or as he thought about some random question you’d asked out of the blue and he couldn’t comprehend how that even made sense to the current conversation. Like that time, you asked if knew they were droids, and if they wanted to be something else. Which had then prompted a two-hour long discussion with Din arguing that droids were programmed and you insisting they had some spectrum of natural emotion that wasn’t programmed in.

You wished you could see the light of a sunrise turning his eyes molten, or to see what they looked like as he gazed at you. The love that would shine through them.

Or to watch his expressions when the pair of you were together, to see those eyes darken with desire for you, or his face contort in pleasure as you worshipped him.

You sighed softly, resting your chin on your knees and you held his gloved hand between your own.

These thoughts continued to swirl around you mind as you massaged his palm and fingers, letting the sounds of the others become a lulling background murmur.

Did he think you wouldn’t love him? Was that it?

You couldn’t exactly assure him... He would think you were asking for him to take it off, that you weren’t happy.

And you were happy. More than happy, with whatever he could offer you. The man had shown you how to live, rather than just survive.

“Maybe you actually should ask him about that, darling. Ask him why he will willingly die for you… but still won’t show you his face.”

Your body locked up at that silken whisper in your head, the same voice that had followed you from the Cruiser, the same voice that had stalked you for years.

His voice.

You hadn’t told anyone that he was in your head again, nor did you tell anyone about the beast now slumbering in your chest, one ear pricked up to listen for that call. That same beast that had purred when you destroyed – there was no other word for it – those Stormtroopers in the hallway.

The act you had pulled off before stabbing Haran… You weren’t entirely sure how much of it was pretend.

“I knew it. You can’t fool me. Or rather, you don’t need to fool me, darling. All I want it for you to have everything you deserve, and more. I could make you a Queen.”

A Queen.

Ruling over people he decided were less worthy? No thank you.

You were happy here, with your friends. Your family. You didn’t need darkness or fear… Just this.

“If that’s what you choose to believe. But you know, deep down… You crave it. I know the beast slumbering in you, darkling. It won’t be long before it wakes up.”

Just before you could spiral too deep into the thoughts he was putting into your head, you felt Din’s fingers twitch in yours, just briefly.

Your heart leapt into your throat and you dropped your knees to sit up straighter, “Lori?” You were still around your friends, after all, so the nickname came out.

“You didn’t think I’d give up that easily, did you?” His rough baritone filled your senses, hoarse and slightly pained but unmistakeably Din.

Something broke in your chest, like it caved in and a sob caught in your throat, “Oh.” You blinked down at his shiny head, and then dropped your own to his chest, not caring that it was hard and cold. It was him. He was okay.

You’d fixed him up and he was okay and here and… safe.

A soft chuckle rumbled beneath you and his free hand cupped the back of your head, “Hey… I survived a fall and kidnapping… I’m sure I could suffer through your nursing.” His thumb stroked over your hair, cradling you to the beskar chest and you swore you could hear his heart beating beneath it.

“You’re lucky you still need to finish healing, otherwise I would be beating your ass for all of this.” Your words were mumbled through tears, breath fogging up the beskar and you slid your arm up under his shoulder, shivering a little.

Din laughed again – shallowly, his ribs were still sore – and pressed the chin of his helmet against your head gently, “Oh, I know. I’m waiting for it, believe me.” He squeezed your hand, just savouring the feel of you in his arms, allowing himself to relax. You were here with him, not on the Cruiser – and not a slave to Haran’s persuasion.

There was the pitter-patter of many feet, and then a tiny green body began to clamber up the beskar mountain, “Bah.”

Din lifted his head, watching as Grogu crawled along his belly and plopped down just near your head, reaching out with grabby hands. “Hey, kid…” His voice turned a little thicker as you let go of his hand, so he could pull the kid closer.

“He missed you… He cried every night and put up a hell of a fight when we left him with Boba.” It was true, Grogu had attempted to use his powers on you all, until you managed to soothe him – and put him in Boba’s helmet, purely so he couldn’t clamber out of the beskar bucket.

Plus, it was ridiculously adorable, watching him spin around in the helmet until his tears melted into high giggles.

Din was most likely raising his eyebrows underneath his helmet, stroking Grogu’s cheek with his thumb, “Is that true, you little womp rat?”

Grogu cooed, tilting his head into Din’s hand and blinking those big, glossy eyes – the picture of innocence.

A mewl came from behind you, and then Duru hopped nimbly onto Din’s belly – earning a soft oof from him because she’s not exactly light. She settled on his belly, curling her tail around her clawed feet and a rumbly purr came from her chest.

You smiled slowly, reaching out to stroke her ears, “Oh, and this one spent every night howling. I had no idea Loth cats could even make a noise like that but… Here we are. I’m sure the others will be eager to get rid of us and the rabble.”

“Damn, straight. I’m an old man, I need peace and quiet when I sleep.” Boba’s gravelly voice travelled from the cockpit, a sign that though they were all trying very hard to pretend not to be listening, he couldn’t help himself.

A warm chuckle slipped from your lips as you shook your head, settling as close to Din as you could, his hand on your head trailing down your spine and coming to rest at the small of your back, “See.”

Din didn’t answer with words, but with a soft sniffle – like he was crying.

Worry careened through you and you touched the edge of his visor, “Hey… Why are you crying? Are you in pain?” You reached out a hand, ready to soothe any discomfort that may have cropped up.

Grogu made a little questioning noise, crawling to Din’s chest and patting the edge of the helmet, his ears flapping, like he too was worried.

Din shook his head, clearing his throat but his voice was still choked, “It’s just… I’ve been on my own for… years. Been hurt, captured, attacked more times than I can count but…” He looked over you all, motioned to the cockpit, “I’ve never had this. A rescue team… A family who missed me. It’s still… so new.” His words seemed a little unsure, like he still wasn’t used to voicing such vulnerabilities aloud either.

His uncertainty melted you, and you slid your hand up as if cupping his cheek, meeting the horizontal band of his visor, where you always seemed to look directly into his eyes, “Me either… But this is our clan, remember? Our family. And no matter what, we will always come back for each other. Even if we take on bases of Imperial troops and fall out of the sky.” You gave him a cheeky smile, your eyes soft and adoring.

The eye roll was nearly audible, but he still chuckled, sliding his hand up to cup the back of your neck and pull you down for a keldabe kiss, “You are insufferable.”

Your eyes closed, hand moving down to rest over the fabric on his neck, “Ah, but you still love me for it.”

Din let out a playful, long suffering sigh, “I suppose I do, don’t I?” He was grinning beneath the helmet though, revelling in this feeling of his family clustered around him, his kids curled on his chest and his friends just a little way away.

No longer alone.

“Well, I love you too.”

~~~

A little while later, you were all clustered in the cockpit, saying your thank you’s and temporary goodbyes.

Boba was going to fly the pair of you to where they’d stashed the Razor Crest, and then escort you to the nearest jump point. From there, Din had informed you that you would be going to a Sanctuary planet.

The same one he had scoped out for himself and Grogu all that time ago, way before any of this.

You both deserved a break – the kids too.

You were looking forward to it, the chance to just… be free, even for a little while. To feel the sun on your skin, to be able to dip your feet in the cool water of a babbling brook and chase the kids through trees and fields of exotic flowers.

To not think about other things for a while.

Before too long, you were making your way into the Crest, and then into the sky.

Home.

Boba and the others escorted you to the jump point as promised, where you waved goodbye and then you were in hyperspace again, as if nothing had ever happened.

Of course, the events of the past week would have repercussions. You’d be a fool to think otherwise… But for now, you didn’t want to think about that. You just wanted to be with your family, and rest.

Even if it did mean going back to the cramped little bed that barely fit your body on, let alone yourself and Din.

But it was familiar, and it was home.

Maybe we could upgrade after the Sanctuary planet… I could convince him.

You fell asleep thinking of plans and ways to convince your Mandalorian to shell out some credits and upgrade this sorry excuse for a bed.

At some point in the night, a haze overtook your dreamless sleep, pulling you into a place that you weren’t even aware of…

~~~

“You beautiful thing… Look at your Mandalorian. Look at him, darling.” Haran’s scarred hands roamed your back, massaging the flesh, scraping his nails down either side of your spine to your ass cheeks. “Let him see the look on his face as I fuck you.”

A breathy moan escaped your lips, your back arching up like a cat’s and then further, as the blunt head of Haran’s cock nudged your soaking entrance and then slipped inside.

Stars above.

Haran was as long as Din was, but a little thicker. Enough to stretch your walls almost a little painfully, but Maker did it feel amazing.

Your head dropped down, your arms trembling slightly where they held you up and you let out a noise that was sinful. “Fuck…” Your back arched a little more, feeling him settle deep inside you, nudging far within you and filling you up deliciously, in a way somehow different to Din.

A soft snarl came from above you, and then one of Haran’s hands wrapped around your throat, yanking your head back up with the pressure, “I said, look at him.” He squeezed your neck, cutting of your air enough to send your eyes to the back of your head momentarily before they settled on Din.

He was seated on a couch at the end of the bed, shadows wreathed around his body which must have been bare underneath. His helmet and gloves remained on, and he was focused on you, on Haran.

The thought of Din being naked, his bare skin on show underneath those shadows… that made you even wetter, made your walls clench around Haran’s cock and earn a grunt from the Shadow King.

Over Din’s shoulder, a big, ornate framed glass rested on the dark walls, a mirror that reflected his bed.

Of course there was.

You were entranced by it, torn between watching Din and watching yourself, with Haran’s lean, toned body rising up behind you as he began to move, taking you deep and rough with his scarred hands gripping your hips with bruising strength.

Your breasts bounced with each thrust, your swollen lips parted in ecstasy as you rocked backward, meeting Haran with each movement, so that the room filled with the filthy sound of his balls hitting your slicked body, sending jolts of pressure through your clit.

His hand remained squeezing around your throat, and he bent his body down over yours to meet your gaze in the mirror, white teeth flashing and he bit at your shoulder, hard enough to draw blood, “You like me fucking you, don’t you? You like seeing him watch me fuck you.”

A keening noise escaped your lips, your own teeth sinking into your lower lip as a trail of blood rang down your shoulder, “Yes – fuck, yes.” You jolted back against him, wanting to feel him tomorrow, wanted to not be able to walk. “Harder.”

Haran let out a dark, velvet chuckle against your shoulder, his tongue darting out to catch the bead of blood and he hummed in ecstasy at your taste, “As you wish, my Queen.” He rose back up straight behind you, and began a brutal, bruising pace.

The relentless thud of his cock against your g-spot made your brain disconnect form your body for a second, your vison blanking before it cleared again.

Din groaned long and deep, leaning forward for a better view, fascinated by the scene before him.

Watching as someone else, the Shadow-King no less, fucked his cyar'ika.

And it was driving him absolutely feral.

The very image of you, that pleasure on your face as Haran drove into you, was killing him. He always thought he would hate it, absolutely despise the very notion of another man touching you. But Haran was different, there was no denying. He was embroidered into the fabric of your lives, whether Din liked it or not.

And now, here he was, his dick positively weeping as he beheld the scene before him, his skin tight and itchy with desire.

The smooth, worn leather of his gloves was torturous over his aching cock, unable to resist curling his hand around his length, moving in time with you and Haran.

Din couldn’t look away… Especially as Haran pulled out, then slammed back into you instantly, hand tightening even tighter around your throat. He circled his hips, hitting all the spots Din knew himself and then your eyes squeezed shut, heady release crashing over you and your arms gave way as you moaned – no, screamed - Haran’s name.

He kept fucking you, pounding into you again and again, as you cried your pleasure into the bed covers, Haran’s seed soon dripping between your thighs as he came too.

And Din wasn’t sure who was most jealous of Haran… or you. To be the one making you scream, making your body contort like some kind of goddess, or to be the one on his hands and knees with that mouth-watering length breaking him apart.

Maker, he was going to explode just from the sheer thought of that.

Like you’d read his mind, you lifted your head, your eyes blown impossibly wide with lust and you reached out for him, eyes focused hungrily on his throbbing length.

Your tongue darted out, licking over your swollen bottom lip and then he was right there.

You wasted no time, those devilish lips lowering over his cock and then the hot, silken smoothness of your mouth encased him.

You both moaned again in unison, the sound vibrating through Din’s head and you eagerly lapped up the bead of precum leaking from his tip.

You didn’t think you would ever get bored of Din’s taste, the feeling of him heavy in your mouth as you bobbed your head, sinking down deep enough that your nose brushed his curls and he slipped down your throat. He was like velvet wrapped steel, and you would never get enough.

Din stuttered a curse, his gloved hand fisting in your hair and holding you there, “F-fuck, sweetheart…” His helmet tilted back, groans spilling from it as you swallowed.

Haran was rapidly hardening again inside you, watching you swallow down Din’s length and he was suddenly moving again, fucking you rough and deep, causing your body to rock around your Mandalorian’s cock. “That’s it, darling…. Good girl…” His hand dragged up your back to your head, entwining with Din’s and the pair of them bobbed your head up and down.

A muffled moan slipped from your throat, the three of you setting a pace as Din began to jerk his hips into your mouth, working in tandem with Haran’s pace.

The scent of sex hung heavy in the air, mixed with the scent of both boys, creating an intoxicating aroma that would cling to you all for days to come.

As you swirled your tongue along the underside of Din’s length, you heard the tell-tale schwoomp of a helmet being removed.

A trace of panic made your body lock up for a second, before Din’s hand stroked through your hair, “Easy, sweetheart, it’s okay.”

Something cool brushed over your eyes, and you realised Haran had set a blindfold of shadow around your head and must be wearing one of his own.

You briefly wondered why, before you heard the faintly wet noise of a messy, swollen kiss above your head – the boys making out as they fucked and were fucked by you, all three of you racing to push each other off that cliff of pleasure first.

A haze overtook the dream, changing the scene and then there you were, reclined on a luxurious sofa, furs scattered beneath your body.

The pleasant burning hum in your bones signified that you had just received yet another mind-blowing release, clearly reclined here to recover because the couch was situated at the end of the bed.

Facing it.

And on top… Din, helmet still on and those dreamy shadows still surrounding his body like a shield. But perhaps they were courtesy of Haran, because the King of Shadows was kneeling in front, back pressed to Din’s chest… As Din rocked in and out of him from behind, gloved hands gripping his hips to hold him in place.

Holy Maker above.

Your humming body instantly tightened, snapping to attention as wetness flooded the tops of your thighs. Eyes still firmly on your boys, you reclined back further, spreading your legs and slipping a hand between them.

You traced slow, lazy circles around your clit, the silky slickness aiding in smooth movements to slowly begin another fire.

Haran tilted his chin down from resting on Din’s shoulder, his arm stretched above him with his hand on the back of Din’s neck, “Look at that. Our little princess likes watching you fuck me, Lori.” His liquid voice was rough with lust and pleasure, his obsidian eyes burning like black fire. His other scarred hand was pumping over his swollen cock, moving in time with Din’s deep thrusts.

Din groaned, his helmet tilted down and tucked into Haran’s neck and you knew his eyes were darting between their bodies, and your fingers, “Good.” He gripped Haran’s hips tighter, thrusting particularly deep into his ass and both men moaned in unison, “Keep your eyes on her when I make you come.”

A keening moan left your lips, two fingers slipping down and inside your aching walls. You didn’t know where to look, what to focus on first, particular when Din’s gloved hand covered Haran’s and guided it faster over the Shadow King’s considerable length. “Harder, Lori.”

Din chuckled, low and rough, “Your wish is my command, mesh’la.” He obeyed your order, leaning forward so that Haran’s body folded slightly, allowing him a better angle to fuck up into him, deep, pounding movements of hips that had both men’s bodies jerking beautifully.

Your trio of moans bounced around the dimly lit room, the faint squeak of the bed and the sound of Din’s balls slapping against Haran’s skin…

The haze came over again, bringing with it a medley of different scenes – your lips round Haran’s cock, whilst Din lay beneath you, his tongue spearheading up into you. The three of you engaged in a messy kiss, the boys at your mercy as you moved your hands in torturous paces, making them fall apart at the same time and coat your thighs. And then Din, his long, lean body folded into the bed as Haran worked him over, first with his fingers and then his own length, all whilst Din lapped and sucked at your aching folds, his tongue inside you again.

It cleared once more.

You were spent, leaning back into Haran’s chest, feeling the aftershocks of your orgasm shudder through you. You had no idea which one it was now. Your brain had given up in trying to keep count, surrendering itself to the overwhelming pleasure of your two boys worshipping your body. You were seated between them, both of them inside you still, body numb with the new pleasure from where Haran was currently softening inside your ass.

And the absolute mind melting experience of earlier, watching the pair of them fuck each other as you recovered.

“Come on, darling. We know you have more in you…” Soft lips grazed the shell of your ear, a cool wash of Haran’s breath tickling and making goosebumps rise to the surface.

Then, Din’s large, warm hands caressed your hips, your thighs, massaging the flesh with a firm grip to regain the feeling in them, “He’s right, cyar’ika. I know you have more in you… I know you want more already. You’re so good, sweetheart, you take us both so well… Want to go again?”

A breathless moan escaped your lips, your body wrecked and numb but at their twin voices, the deep purr that lined them both… The heat rose low in your belly again and you craved the feeling of them both once, filling you up, pushing you over the edge as the you all moved in a perfect, dark harmony…

~~~

You startled awake, bolt upright with the sound of seductive laughter in your ears and the twin feel of lips ghosting over your skin.

What.

The actual.

Fuck?!

It took you a moment to work out that it was a dream, that you were curled up with just Din in your small bed, the engine humming as autopilot took you to a Sanctuary planet.

Lifting a hand to your face, you felt how flushed your skin was, heat still pooling between your legs and your heart pounded. You were soaked – clearly having reached a silent high in your sleep.

What in Maker’s name was that?

Stars above you needed a drink.

You slipped from the bed, Din barely stirring - no wonder, he hadn’t slept the whole time he’d been away.

You padded through the ship to the kitchen area and poured yourself a glass of the nearest alcohol you could find – trying to ignore the fact that your thighs were a little sticky.

Why were you have fantasies about Din and Haran?

Trauma?

Maybe you were sick?

Yeah. Yeah that’s it. Sickness. Maybe even a fever.

“Oh my love, this is no sickness. You’re dreaming about us because you want it. Your knight of light and your demon of the dark. You can pretend all you like, but you’re drawn to me.”

Haran.

He was in your head - of course he was.

You growled, slamming the glass down with more force than was necessary. Your body trembled, either with anger or the aftershocks of what you had just imagined.

You recognised the wave in your mind, similar to when Ahsoka spoke to you through the Force. “Get the fuck out of my head, you creep.”

That dark, velvet laughter again, “You think I sent you the dream? Oh, darling. You were the one practically throwing it at me. Here I was, trying to enjoy a nice dream and what should pop into my head but something like that? I always knew you had it in you, darling. ”

Heat flushed your cheeks again, along with anger, “Get. Out.”

Haran practically purred, “You, Me and Lori, wrapped up together. Now, I have no qualms about a crowd, but I have to admit, I was a little surprised that you would send it to me.”

You shook your head, as if you could throw him out like that.

He continued, his voice flowing through your body, just like his lips and tongue had, the way his phantom power had provided you pleasure whilst Din explored other parts of you, “You like the idea of two men worshipping you, don’t you darling?” He was quiet, like he was reading you, “Oh, you don’t care who it is. You just want to be worshipped. And you want to watch me and your knight fuck too? Oh, you dirty little girl… Does he know? Does he know that you want to watch and be watched… That you want to try everything?”

You hissed, pushing against the feeling of him in your mind, trying to force him out but you felt his silken shadows sneaking through your body, felt the phantom brush of his hands – and other parts of him – and to your utter horror, you realised you were growing wet again.

And a dark part of you was desperate to yield to it. To succumb to that darkness and let it wash through you.

No.

Get a grip.

“Fuck. Off.”

Unbidden, your dream started to come back to you again, the boys on their knees before you, their hands, their tongues. And not only that, but the sight of them together, their bodies rocking and writhing in rhythm -

Another growl ripped from your chest, even as you ached to slip your fingers inside – or to go and wake Din up and fly to wherever Haran was - “Enough.” You threw the word through space to him, slamming it into his mind with a full wave of power.

A final dark chuckle, and then he slipped from your mind, leaving you in peace.

Well, as peaceful as you could be, with the tingles on your skin and the dampness between your thighs.

It was going to be a long night.

Previous| Next

#i am not sorry #this has been in my head for days and i had to #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x force sensitive! reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x force sensitive! reader #haran x reader #haran x reader x din #the mandalorian #din djarin #smut

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rivers-rambles21 · 3 years

Text

The one with the road trip

Part 15 of The one where Bucky has a cute neigbour series!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader (f)

Warnings | 18+ only - no smut but mentions of it

Apologies for any mistakes, this has been written on my phone and its a bit difficult to edit. Once I’m back with a working laptop I’ll give it a once over :)

Bucky had intended on renting a bike so you could ride down to Louisiana but with Sam’s suit it would’ve been an impossible feat.

He settled for hiring an SUV and added you both to the insurance so you could take it in turns driving on the long trip down south.

“Been together one day and we’re already on our first trip” You teased as you rested your feet on the dash, taking in the scenery as Bucky drove. His metal hand gripped the steering wheel as he peaked a glance over to your bare legs, resisting the urge to pull over.

“You’re the one having a mid life crisis doll not me” You feigned offense and swatted the soldier beside you, pleased to get a hit in as he tried to dodge your attack. His eyes remained on the road as he grasped your hand in his. “Less of that thank you” He laughed, bringing your hand to his lips, leaving a kiss on the back before giving it back to rest on your thigh, his hand not leaving yours.

“Looking forward to seeing Sam again?” He didn’t respond but his face said it all. “You’re so dramatic” You chuckled as you leant down to root around in your bag for the road trip snacks. Retrieving a bag of cashews, you offered it to Bucky who gladly took a handful.

“I just know he’s going to ask a billion questions about stuff we’ve not even discussed yet, that we’re probably not even ready to talk about. He didn’t stop asking about you y’know? Y/n this, Y/n that…he kept threatening to ask you out.”

“Oh he did”

The car swerved slightly as Bucky's grip on the wheel tightened, his concentration lapsing for a split second.

“He did what?” He asked, tearing his eyes from the road to glance over at you.

“It was just a bit of harmless flirting-” You began before being cut off.

“We flirted.” Bucky stated, his jaw clenching.

“We also did a lot of things just friends don’t do. Relax Sarge, he only asked to get a reaction out of me.”

Bucky grunted in response, knowing his reaction was a tad over the top but he couldn’t help it. You were his.

“We could always mess with him in return.” You pondered as you took a swig of your drink. “Maybe hold off on telling him about us, it’s only meant to be a flying visit anyway isn’t it? So we wouldn’t have to pretend for long… play him at his own game?”

Bucky smirked in response, completely on board with your little plan.

The next few hours passed with the typical car games and a quick power nap as Bucky continued driving.

“How long until you start at Starks?”

“A month thank god, the GRC wanted me gone pretty quickly, I didn't have to work my notice which was a blessing really. I’ll schedule a day to go and clear out my desk and say my goodbyes. Will you still get your pension if we live out of the country?”

“I’m not sure to be honest, I can pick up work wherever we are though, it wouldn’t be the first time. I’m good with my hands”

“You’re telling me” You muttered under your breath. Bucky heard you loud and clear and let out a laugh as he recalled how you spent most of last night. “Are we crazy? Travelling with no plan, barely any money and only just starting out as a couple?”

“Oh absolutely”

Eventually Bucky took a break from driving after you stopped for food in a roadside diner. It had been a while since you’d driven but you wanted to give Bucky the chance to get some sleep, something you knew he still struggled with.

Despite telling him to try and get some sleep on the back seats, he remained upfront with you, doing his best to battle the drowsiness that had overcome him. He’d not gotten much rest the past few weeks, from battling the Flag Smashers in Europe, to hunting down Zemo and then back to New York. In truth he was worried he’d have a nightmare and wasn’t sure on how he’d react but upon your insistence, he tried to get some shut eye. After an hour or so he dropped off, the sound of you humming along to a song on the radio sending him off into a dreamless sleep.

Bucky couldn’t quite believe it, he couldn’t remember the last time he slept without being haunted by memories of the Winter Soldier. Granted, he only got four hours of sleep , but it was the best he’d felt in a long time.

When it came to your turn to get some shut eye Bucky insisted on stopping over in a hotel for the night. You’d tried to convince him a motel would suffice after you lost the battle of you sleeping in the car but he was victorious.

To be frank, after spending so many hours in the car, you were grateful to be sleeping in a bed with your super soldier by your side.

As you slept, Bucky took the time to fire off a few emails advising he’d be ending his lease. Having slept earlier, he felt energised and was content in browsing the internet as you slept tucked into his arm.

He did his best not to wake you as he opened a selfie from Shuri of her with Ayo and Nomble, a chuckle escaping his lips as Shuri and Nomble looked to be thoroughly enjoying themselves on a boat trip in New York whilst Ayo sulked in the background.

He also replied to an email from his therapist's office, letting them know he’d be absent from his next session but planned on returning the following week.

Bucky was tempted to let Sam know he was coming but thought it best to surprise him.

The next day was much of the same, both of you switching the drive and stopping off at diners for food. Due to the lack of respect Bucky had for the speed limit, you were making good time and would be in Delacroix the following morning.

“-it was like I didn’t exist. Honestly it was the most humbling experience of my life”

“Sergeant Barnes in his uniform… now that is something I’ve got to see.”

“Maybe one day”

Your eyebrow perked at the thought. “Good god man” You groaned dramatically and sank further into your seat, giggling as you caught sight of the blush covering his cheeks. “For what it’s worth, lack of nutrients from the rationing clearly messed with her eyesight.” You were genuinely baffled how Peggy didn’t swoon for the man next to you.

“Where were you in the 40’s when I needed you huh?”

“I doubt I’d have been your type”

“Intelligent, strong woman with a great sense of humor? And thats not even mentioning your ass.. Oh no, definitely not my type” He replied sarcastically.

“Ha ha fine, I’ll take your word for it.”

“I’d have taken you dancing, maybe gone to a show or even the carnival. Anything you wanted.” He took your hand in his again and kissed the back of it as he pondered just how he’d of won you over back then. He usually didn't like to dwell on life before the war, the pain of losing his family and the future he lost was too much but having you in his life somehow made the memories hurt less. Having you with him now along with the future he could picture with you helped him make peace with his past life and accept that it wasn’t something he could ever go back to.

When Steve was returning the stones, he did wonder whether he should go back with him but the realisation that there wasn’t anything waiting for him apart from a time that he didn't belong to made his decision to remain in the present resolute. And by god was he thankful he stayed.

On your way to your final hotel before arriving at Sams, you’d taken over the driving and had kept Bucky entertained with your off key singing and terrible car games.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me” As it turns out, Bucky was a sore loser.

“What? It counts!!”

“You cannot see bacteria Y/N”

“Yes I can! It’s right...right… right there!” You pointed to a random bit of the car interior and held back a laugh at a clearly unamused Bucky.

“You’re so full of shit”

“How do you know I can’t see it huh? Guess it’s my turn again, I spy with my little -”

“No” He cut off as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Absolutely not. I’m going to choose a game.”

You let out a little smile and continued focusing on the road until the super soldier landed on something he liked.

“Okay okay, would you rather sounds fun. Doll, would you rather have the superpower of being invisible or ability to fly.”

“Aw come on Buck these are tame! If I have to answer, without a doubt invisibility.”

“Not dirty enough for you sweetheart?” A tingle rang down your spine at your new nickname. “I’d have to agree, invisibility easily.”

“Buck you’re an actual superhero, you’ve already got powers, leave some for us mere mortals!”

“... you think I’m a superhero?”

“....you’re literally an Avenger.” You reached across towards the man beside you, keeping your eyes on the road as you pressed your hand against his forehead. “Are you feeling okay?”

Bucky rolled his eyes at your sarcasm and swatted your hand away from his head. “Fine you made your point.”

You shook your head as you returned your hand to the steering wheel, tapping away to the song on the radio.

“The rest of these questions are boring” He muttered as he furiously scrolled through his cell.

“C’mon, go R rated”

“It’s no fun when I already know the answers to these!”

“Pfft doubtful, come on, hit me”

“Spit or swallow, you’re a swallower doll.See?”

“Okay okay! You’re right, I give in. How about we just ask each other some questions?”

“But you already know everything,” He remarked, throwing a few cashews into his mouth.

“When did you first see me as someone other than a friend?” You’d thrown him off guard with that question, his hand stuck in mid air as he went to throw more snacks into his mouth.

“Wouldn't you rather know my most embarrassing sexual encounters?” He offered but was met with silence. “Fine……. I’ve never seen you as just a friend. Yes we were friends before we became more and honestly Y/n if it never progressed further than just friendship I would’ve been fine with it, more than fine with it y’know? Meeting you was the best fucking thing-” “Buck, it’s okay” Your hand reached out towards him and squeezed his thigh as you kept your eyes on the road.

“There’s more… before we officially met in the lobby when that creep wouldn’t leave you the fuck alone, I’d seen you around. I was coming back from lunch with Yori and he was complaining about having gone for burgers instead of our usual and there you were, headphones in completely oblivious to the world and searching for your keys in your purse as usual. You were just so carefree - everything I wanted to be. And then a couple of days later we met and I was a goner.”

You bit your lip as you fought back a smile, overwhelmed by his honesty. It was a welcome feeling, knowing you weren’t the only one that felt an attraction almost immediately.

“I’d seen you around too, before we officially met I mean. It’s kind of hard to miss you” You chuckled as you snuck a glimpse over at him and found him doing his usual glare. “It was pretty early on for me as well, do you remember when we went for coffee?”

“And you ordered us two cups of sugar? Yeah I remember”

“Mocha Latte’s aren’t bad for you… they just give you a bit of a buzz”

“Especially if you order extra cream…”

“Anyway! I’ve always been attracted to you, I’m not blind y’know but after seeing this dark looming strong man consume a drink like that, and have some residue cream left on his lower lip mind you, I just knew that it was more than just a crush. There’s something oddly charming and attractive about seeing someone so intimidating be so soft. It’s like I’m the only one who gets to see that side of you and I love it”

Bucky didn't quite know what to say, he was slightly flustered at the compliments you were throwing at him and by the knowledge that you’d been interested far earlier than he had ever dreamed of.

“We’re idiots aren’t we? For not realising sooner.”

“Oh without a doubt”

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#bucky #bucky barnes #bucky x female reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x reader #tfatws #ao3 #fic #bucky fic #bucky fluff

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keilemlucent · 4 years

Text

lavender latte: vi

(T (for now!))

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

chapter 1 || chapter 2 || chapter 3 || chapter 4 || chapter 5 || chapter 7 ||

masterlist

word count: 6.8k

finally. god.

warnings: none really! reader’s foot booted, but that’s about it.

---

well. here we are. thank u to everyone for reading this sweet, sweet story. we’re not through it yet, but i’m happy to offer a meal with this chapter. enjoy lovies. beta’ed by the lovely love @keiqos.

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You had several problems after returning to your apartment from the hospital. One of your coworkers was nice enough to drive you and your things back, but quickly the niceties stopped and your vague hell began.

Exclusively being on crutches sucked. Navigating your apartment and trying to live somewhat normally was a massive pain. Even just showering was a task that sapped most of your energy. Standing one-legged and balancing made your body ache with a deep soreness, especially the first few days you returned.

This was not even to mention the unpleasant dreams you were having.

‘Unpleasant’ & ‘dreams’ were a nice way of putting it.

You could recall that during your first night in the hospital, one of your doctors told you of the possibility of experiencing a few post-traumatic symptoms. Considering how out of it you were at the time, it was unsurprising how you brushed it off.

The reality was much harder to ignore.

...

Cars revving.

Shouting.

Shattering—

Your eyes flashed open, chest heaving and brow covered in a fine sheen of sweat.

Fuck that.

It was the same dream, an obvious recreation of the stimuli of the event. Though it was scattered in your memory, the dreams made it horribly vivid and vibrant despite lacking detail. The sounds and smells of that day clung to you as you shook your head, forcing yourself into wakefulness.

Your comforter was thrown from your body, and you shivered as cold air rushed over you. As jarred as you were, you still swung your legs off the bed, readjusting your boot and your aching leg, half-heartedly glaring at your crutches.

Your apartment wasn’t terribly set up to get around with your limited mobility, but your difficulty functioning didn’t help your overall mental state. Everything was just harder with the boot on, and you did your best to work with it.

Being locked up in your apartment added to the hellishness of it. You were so used to the stimuli and social environment of the teashop, it felt like a cold water shock when you were confined to your home entirely alone except for your cats.

You could, of course, try and venture out into the world. But, it was still winter and the ice-covered sidewalks didn’t seem like the best place to try and crutch around.

Within the first day or two, you resigned yourself to your three-week fate of being holed up.

You had a laundry list of things you could do. Shows and movies to watch, places in your house to clean, your cats to pet, but—

You still had far too much time on your hands.

A lot of your newfound time in the first few days was spent on your back, leg propped up, and draped in ice bags, musing over Hawks.

Hawks.

Holy fuck.

You couldn’t avoid it, couldn’t stop it. Just thinking about him made every part of you swirl and thrum like you were listening to some sort of contently-chorded song and you were more than happy to play it on repeat until your ears bled. Maybe that feeling towards Hawks had always been there (it had), but now you accepted it and stopped holding yourself back as much.

You never thought the idea of someone squeezing your shoulder would send you into literal fits of giggles and butterflies, but boy, did it. Not to mention all of the careful touches and gentle words you two had shared in the aftermath of the attack, though the memories were hazy. What you did remember and cherish was the warmth of him, quirk activated or not. Each time you recalled it, your gut fluttered and your hands twitched.

Your ceiling was the most interesting place to look in your apartment. The plain texture was the perfect canvas to allow your memories of the sweet interactions the two of you had shared to play like comforting reruns. The commercial breaks of these daydreams were the texts exchanged between you and Hawks.

Keigo couldn’t stop thinking about you either.

It wasn’t as distracting as it once was, as he had been more liberal with letting himself text you. The high number of messages between the two of you was maybe ridiculous, but he was a fast texter and you seemed to have plenty of jokes and banter for him to share in.

As good as the texting was, it was also nice to check-in on you and your recovery. You seemed more annoyed than anything else, but Keigo wasn’t so much of an idiot as to think you weren’t in any pain or struggling at all. Though you didn’t explicitly tell him or show him, he was familiar with the pains of healing and could infer some things about your state.

Keigo tried to brighten your day as he could. ‘Hawks’ still had plenty of hero work to do, especially with the information extracted from the recently detained syndicate members. Despite this, he took as much time as he could to stop and send you little snippets and messages which hopefully would help you smile a little.

It did, of course. Just talking to Hawks did.

You had moments of awareness a few times a day where you had to remind yourself that, yes, (Y/N), you were just casual friends and deeply enamored with the number two hero and that sentiment was at least partially returned.

You had a lot of time to wonder to what extent the feelings were returned. They obviously weren’t entirely one-sided, right?

It was completely possible that they were, but you did your best to shake off the thought.

It was more likely that notorious bachelor and flirt, pro hero Hawks, just wanted a fuck with some feelings. To fuck with some feelings, right?

Though, he did say that he cares about you.

But, you definitely can care about someone you only want to fuck.

You wished you had some sort of definitive answer. The murkiness of it all just made the sweetness of the past and the texts of the present seem a bit sour.

Confessing to Hawks was daunting and terrifying. Not to mention, it felt a bit juvenile, all of it. People weren’t supposed to get melty crushes like this past high school, right? Especially not ones this deep on someone who couldn’t possibly feel the same as you, right?

During one of these moments of uncomfortable clarity, your phone beeped as you rested on the couch. Despite not even seeing the message, you knew it would be Hawks.

You grabbed your phone, clicking open the newest message.

[birdboy]: hey hey angel

[birdboy]: look at this fucker i found

The image attached was a photo of Hawks standing next to one of his own billboards, advertising some sort of sports drink. The photo had obviously been taken with a timer, the angle of the photo tilted as Hawks and the billboard were quite small in the frame. It added to the charm of the photo, the way Hawks was holding a feather blade to the throat of his own advert. You could even tell through the pixels he was wearing a wide smile as he did so, wings spread behind him

You snorted.

You and Hawks are just friends, you reminded yourself.

[you]: looks like a punk bitch 2 me dude

[you]: kinda uncanny resemblance tho

[birdboy]: i agree

[birdboy]: he’s hot tho

You rolled your eyes, still smiling as you readjusted on the couch. You weren’t disagreeing, not at all.

[you]: not wrong

[you]: still, punk bitch

[birdboy]: :^(

[birdboy]: feelings = hurt

[birdboy]: please tell me the photo is funny

[birdboy]: it took like five tries

[you]: very funny, im gonna save it and sell when im short on cash

[birdboy]: my publicist will blacklist u

[you]: i’d like to see them try

[birdboy]: is that a challenge angel????

[you]: a promise

There was a break in the messages, though Hawks appeared to be typing.

[birdboy]: unrelated but

[birdboy]: how are you doing?

You paused, taking stock of your disheveled, sleepy self. You were only a few days out of the hospital and you definitely could’ve been worse off.

[you]: im okay!!!

[you]: sore and tired honestly

[birdboy]: :^(

[birdboy]: i'm glad to hear its not worse at least

[birdboy]: ill send u lots more embarrassing photos

[birdboy]: a million angel

[you]: my hero <3

It all was surreal and mentally impossible to avoid.

You really, really liked Hawks and had for a long while.

...

Keigo spent most of the rest of the day busy with patrols and work for the Commission, much to his chagrin. He hardly got a chance to text you. It reminded him of his reality as a pro, his fast-paced nature and how he truly couldn’t slow down, not at that point anyway. He had a brand and habitual way of being that was standard. Even for you, he wasn’t sure if he could slow down, even if he wanted to or needed to.

The idea scared him, pieces of his reality.

But, at the same time, Keigo hadn’t ever felt like this before. The weird, but incredibly alluring and comfortable heat in his chest made him feel like he’d do anything for you. Fuck, he’d fly to the stars and move them if he could, if that’s what it took.

Maybe he even wanted to.

Keigo couldn’t become a different person, for anyone, that’s not how things worked. But if getting closer to you meant... adjusting, he could do that. Easily. He was adaptable as all hell and he’d be glad to use it for something that made him feel good instead of hollow.

Keigo busily flew the day away. As the afternoon turned to night, the sky going pink and purple with dusk, he settled on top of a taller office building. It looked down on a street market, its smells and sounds wafting up to him on his perch.

It gave him an idea.

A good one.

You were inspecting your fridge with a grimace. Balancing on your crutches and being counter-weighed by the boot on your foot made your angry stance a whole lot less intimidating, but it was the sentiment that counted.

Several days post-hospital had done a number on your food supply. The fridge was empty except for a few nearly expired items and condiments. The dry shelves weren’t looking much better.

The shrill sound of your ringtone from the couch made your jump, nearly falling. You teetered back over to it, eye-widening at the caller ID.

[birdboy] calling...

Hawks had never called you before.

You quickly picked up the call, “...Hello?”

“Hey, angel!” Hawks was chipper on the other line. “What’re you up to?”

“Currently?” You hummed, turning forlornly to your kitchen. “Thinking about how I either need to order groceries or order dinner before committing to my couch for the rest of the night. Why? You don’t usually call.”

“I don’t,” Hawks’s smile was apparent in his voice, even through the receiver. “But, I had an idea.”

“Shoot.”

“I might just be near a super good takeout spot. How hard would it be for me to convince you to let me drop some food by your place? My treat.”

You didn’t reply for a second.

Stunned.

“Are you sure?”

“More than, dove. I’m off the rest of the night, anyways.”

Oh.

That gave you an idea—

An idea that would surely push the envelope of your feelings.

Let it.

“Okay, I’m in. One condition.” You bit your lip, willing your stomach to seize fluttering.

“You name it. This place is really good and—”

“I have been going a little stir crazy, and,” You cut him off, squeezing your eyes shut in anticipation, “how hard would it be to convince you to come over and stay awhile?”

Hawks was silent.

Your stomach dropped.

“Wait, I-I mean—” You stuttered, trying to gather yourself, but this time Hawks cut you off.

“Like, to hang out?” Hawks sounded shocked on the other line.

“Yes.”

You kept your breathing even and prayed it didn’t read over the call.

“God, dove. I’d love to. I can be over in like ten—”

“Wait,” You fisted the fabric of your sweats. “Can I have a little more time? For myself and my apartment.”

Hawks chuckled on the other end of the line, “Sure, angel. Thirty sound better?”

You let out a sigh of relief, falling on to the back of your couch, “Sounds perfect.”

Keigo decided to tease a bit, his heart pounding in his chest almost painfully. He knew from day one that you were bold, but this was a treat. He had to spare back, just a little.

“Though, dove, I’m sure you look more than perfect yourself. You always do.” He didn’t wait for your response, either out of fear of what you’d say or being a bit smug, he wasn’t sure.

Keigo hung up the call, burying his face in his gloves to try and stifle the blush on his cheeks, though it hardly helped.

It didn’t have to.

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Thirty minutes later and you were mostly sorted.

You managed to throw yourself into the shower, tossing on something half-way decent, but still comfortable. Had to keep it casual.

Crutching around your apartment, you picked up what clutter you could, mind spinning. Hawks coming over to your fucking apartment filled you with elated, and yet terrifying, anxiety. A few times while cleaning, you legitimately paused to muffle quiet screams in your hand at the prospect.

You felt like you were going to burst.

Keigo did too, notably.

He took the time to fly all the way back to his apartment, take the world’s fastest shower, and throw on some clothes other than his costume. Going back to get food, his hands shook as he handed the bills to the starry-eyed vendor who he’d just written an autograph for.

You’d sent a quick text just before he’d left with a description of your balcony, so neither of you would have to figure out how to let him in through the roof.

As he flew to your place, Keigo felt like he was going to implode.

He didn’t ‘hang out’ with people. Nope, far too busy for anything like that. He was a compulsory workaholic, it was part of his mental brand of being (or, mental ‘branding’, maybe). The closest he got to casual time with folks was the preamble before a hookup or the time he had spent at the tea shop with you. Actually going to spend time with someone, casually, and it was you? It was all new and terrifying.

But, above all? Exciting.

The whole situation opened many doors, all of which Keigo pictured and picked apart as he neared your apartment. There were so many potential situations to appraise and plan for, he felt overwhelmed by it all.

The opportunity to spend some... time with you outside of the tea shop was a necessity, right? Keigo’s original idea had been to drop off some food and banter for a while, but the idea of spending one of his precious nights off with you was so much better than he could’ve expected.

Not to mention the warm bit of validation sparked by the fact that you asked him to come over, you wanted him around —

It felt nice.

So nice.

You paused, hearing telltale scuffing of someone on your balcony.

Oh my god.

He’s here.

Hawks is here.

You gulped, shaking your head.

Don’t you dare chicken out now. Commit, dammit. You’re just... hanging out. With your friend.

Yeah.

A knock on the glass pulled you to the door of your balcony, hobbling to slide it open on your crutches.

Hawks was happy to push the door the rest of the way open, stepping inside with a bag of takeout slung on his arm.

Your mouth parched, seeing him once again in civilian clothing. Was it... normal to get turned on by the fact that he looked normal?

As Hawks stepped into your humble apartment, wings tucked tightly to his back, you drank him in, hair ruffled with his clear visor placed on top of his head to push back the windswept front pieces. He wore a white sweater and black trousers complete with heavy black boots that were quickly untied and left by the door.

“You’re staring, you know,” Hawks interrupted your thoughts as you straightened up on your crutches.

Recover.

“Can’t prove that,” You tutted, crutching away from the door. “Also, welcome. Watch out for my cats, they might try to get a mouthful of your feathers.”

“Duly noted,” Hawks clicked his tongue, standing up and following you as you meander to the kitchen.

Keigo had to admit that your apartment was relatively... cute. He was used to his own, seldom-used digs. He had a big, uncomfortably nice penthouse with too many disused rooms and too much open space. Fixtures and furniture that were too expensive, probably, but it had been far easier to hire some big-name interior designer and not bother with dealing with it himself. Keigo had trouble keeping many ‘personal’ possessions, anyways. His training with the Commission made him almost revile the thought of keeping unnecessary, material objects, sans a few.

Your home was the exact opposite.

Maybe it was that he didn’t know how to have a personal touch that it made your cozy little apartment feel so full of them.

Little photos and artworks on walls or in frames caught Keigo’s eyes as he followed you to the kitchen. He took note of several blankets on the couch, catching sight of the plushie he’d given you at the hospital. Even the lighting of the apartment was personal, diffuse. With how easily overstimulated you became, it made sense that you’d keep your apartment so ambiently dim.

“So, first off, thank you for coming by and delivering dinner. I am eternally grateful,” You bowed dramatically, leaning to flail out a crutch at the motion. “Second, as payment, I’ll make you a drink. Maybe not with my quirk, but I have some of my old tea blends here.”

“It’s the least I could do,” Keigo shrugged, setting the takeout down on the counter while his ever-present grin nearly hurt his face from how relentless it was. “And tea? Show me what you’ve got. Or, should I trust you to pick one out for me?”

You hummed, clicking your tongue before moving across the kitchen to a different set of cabinets, “I think I’ve actually got a good one for you. It’s one of my favorites.”

“Lay on the details, angel,” Keigo hummed, leaning against the lip of the counter.

You did have the perfect blend in mind. It wasn’t too old, hardly stale. It would pair as well as a nice tea could with fried takeout, judging by the smells wafting from the bag on the counter.

“It’s one I made for a brunch we catered a few months back. It’s just a white tea raspberry blend, but it’s not delicate. It should stand up to any sort of food you’ve brought. Thank you, by the way.”

Setting your crutches down, you started to push yourself up onto the counter without thinking much of it, booted-foot going limp off the edge.

“Of course, anytime— woah, angel,” His voice choked as you wavered on the edge of the counter, off-balance.

There was a short flap of wings and rush of air as you tried to rebalance, cursing the deadweight of your leg.

If Hawks hadn’t been directly behind you, you probably would’ve eaten shit.

You turned yourself as far as you could, cheeks going hot.

Hawks’ face was just inches away from yours. That was even to mention the hands hovering around your waist, chest brushing up against your back.

“S-sorry,” Did he just fucking stutter? “You looked like you were about to eat shit there.”

The words hardly reach you, you were too busy actively telling yourself not to stare at his pretty, plump lips because that is not something friends do. Not the can of worms you needed to open, right?

“I-,” You turned away from him, stretching up to the tea tin that had been out of your reach. “To think you’ve saved me from falling while reaching for loose leaf tea, twice.”

“All in a day's work,” His hands twitched around your sides but hardly shifted until you began to descend from the countertop. In fact, Hawks hardly moved away at all until you were situated back on your crutches.

You pretended not to notice the flush on his cheeks.

Maybe, it was a bit too close. Definitely too close, and bad circumstances, but god, you wanted more and more of him.

You swallowed your desires down, cracking a smile.

Be normal.

Be cool!

You shook the tin, leaves and dried fruit rattling inside, “So, cream or sugar?”

||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

The two of you ended up on the couch, picking through the several boxes of takeout that Hawks had brought. Most of dinner was spent bantering back and forth about one of Hawks’ newest modeling contracts and if it was ‘ethical’ for him to wear his own feathers for the sake of ‘fashion’?

“So, off-topic from insulting my employment ethics, ” Hawks spoke while munching on a piece of chicken. “You surviving?”

“Barely,” You laughed, setting down your utensils with a huff. “I forget how isolation makes you go a little crazy. I’m running out of dumb shit to watch and even dumber shit to send you.”

Hawks snorted, setting down his own box, having had his fill, “I know you are more than adept at combing the internet for more good shit to send me.”

“I mean, maybe, but you keep sending me juicy photos of you being a dumbass. They’re hard to show up, you know?” You side-eyed him at the birdish tilt of his head.

“You don’t need to show me up, angel,” Hawks reminded you, some feathers packing up what was left of the food. “Though, it’s fun. You’re fun.”

You internally winced at the sentiment but forced the smile on your face not to waver.

It was a needed reminder.

This close to Hawks, you could fucking smell him. Maybe it was a little creepy, but you remembered it so well, after the villain attack. The scent of some sort of spicy cologne and old sweat, but it was hardly unpleasant. No, it was intoxicating. It made you feel almost fuzzy, as it wafted around like some reminder that Hawks and you were so close.

You thanked the stars that the apartment lacked the stimuli to make your quirk activate on its own.

Your couch wasn’t very large, and it seemed even smaller with how Hawks had laid his wings over it. They were propped up over the back, outstretched just the smallest bit to relieve some pressure. All the same, the massive feathers made you feel minuscule.

Even the way he was sitting was intoxicating and a bit gut-wrenching. It was casual, the way he leaned back against the far cushions, legs somewhat spread with an ankle over the opposite knee. The pose oozed a weird, untouchable confidence that you hadn’t seen in Hawks in months, maybe ever. At least, not directed at you.

Despite the warm nature of his words, he seemed guarded.

It made your throat dry.

Keigo was quite on edge. He hadn’t meant to get so close in the kitchen, really, he hadn’t. But, seeing you dangling off the edge of the counter like that, even if it was harmless and mundane, made his entire body and mind react before he could think.

But, you weren’t in any danger. Even if you had been, Keigo would’ve been there to catch you.

He’d put himself out of it, overthinking the whole thing. You were fine. Safe.

The other part of his mind spun with how he wanted to be so much closer.

Feeling the warmth of your body, the lines of your waist, the thrum of your heart and breath so fucking close—

It was a lot.

But, he was well-trained and not going to choke.

He’d shoved himself to the opposite side of the couch to you, keeping his boundaries up, strong as steel and hard as carbon.

Of course, Keigo knew the feelings were mutual. That didn’t mean that none of this was terrifying in the same way that it was exhilarating.

As much as he wanted to be closer (so much closer), Keigo remained careful. The last thing in the world he wanted to do was ruin something before it had even truly happened.

You sat back against the couch, repositioning your injured leg on the coffee table, “So, thoughts.”

“On?”

You didn’t look at Keigo as you replied, rather glared at your TV, “What to watch?”

“Oh,” You could hear the smile in his voice. “We’re watching something?”

“You tell me. I imagine you don’t get lots of time to do this sort of thing, do you?”

Hawks didn’t reply for a moment, sitting deeper into the couch, “Not really.”

“Then indulge, tailfeathers,” You tossed the remote in his lap. “Anything, go for it. Go nuts.”

Hawks nearly put on watching a reality cooking show, before you said that that was off-limits, per an odd conversation from way back when where he had admitted to be hot for Gordon Ramsey. He had been a little too vague as to whether or not he would pop a boner from Gordon’s filmed degradations. And truthfully, if anything was gonna give Hawks a hard-on tonight, you were determined for it not to be competitive cooking TV. Maybe, just maybe, you’d rather it be you.

...

Eventually, he settled on some psychological thriller you’d never heard of.

Keigo hadn’t either.

He was glad that you couldn’t hear his heart in the same way he heard your’s pounding.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched you crutch around, turning the already dim lights lower.

Calm the down, Hawks.

Calm the fuck down.

He’d never even done this before. Keigo wasn’t sure how to handle the situation, even if it was as simple as watching a film.

It would’ve been simpler if the tension in the air was thick and foggy, clouding over his consciousness as he tried to focus on anything other than your nearness and how much he wanted to drag you into his lap.

…

His feathers fluttered as you plopped back onto the couch, pulling a blanket over your lap and offering one to him.

He took it, settling it over his lap as the movie went on.

You weren’t an idiot. You could feel the blood rushing in your hot ears as you fisted the blanket over your legs.

Your mind spoke a lot louder than you wanted it to:

Just fucking do it.

Do what exactly?

The paramount thought that was causing anxiety to twirl in your gut.

Maybe, you could just tell him how you felt.

Maybe just hold his hand.

Maybe get fucking rejected because he’s out of your league and out of bounds.

Maybe even kiss him—

You were torturing yourself, the movie just background noise to your internal dilemma.

You’d asked him to your apartment and Hawks had bought you fucking dinner. That wasn’t a lot, sure, maybe, but there were also the months of lead-up.

There were all of the cold mornings and cheeky grins you gave each other in the waking coffee shop. There were the fuzzy jokes, the lingering glances, and the tight feeling you got in your chest whenever he graced you with mere eye contact.

It felt like you were already in too deep to not be honest about how you felt towards him. Fuck, you’d been in too deep for months. Every time you made him a damn drink, you wanted to just drink him in. You were all fluttering hearts and sweet smiles for him in a way that you couldn’t suppress, only squash in moments of such intense anxiety like this—

“Hey, dove?” It was Hawks, shocking you from your turmoil with a soft voice. “Are you alright?”

“Y-yeah, I’m good.” Your reply was curt and clipped.

Make a decision now.

Pull the bandage off, (Y/N).

It’ll just be worse, the longer you wait.

Maybe Hawks did just want to fuck with some cute feelings, the seemingly longing looks be damned. Yeah, you liked him way more than for just a fuck, that was obvious and unavoidable. Besides, it’d be better to know than to not know, right?

“You sure? If the movie’s too much, we can turn it off,” Hawks sounded genuinely concerned from the other side of the couch.

...

You committed, taking a deep breath and turning to Hawks.

“It’s not that,” You looked at the couch between the two of you, tracing the seam of the cushion. “The movie’s fine.”

“Then, you’re not feeling great for another reason?” Keigo asked, feeling each of your breaths and heartbeats like bass drums in his ears. He hides the shaking of his hands by crossing them over his chest. “You can talk to me, (Y/N).”

“Can I?” You asked, shaking your head and laughing at yourself. “Hawks, I need to do something really fucking stupid.”

Holy fuck.

Are they—

“What’s that?”

His voice was smaller than he wanted it to be.

“Fuck, Hawks,” You finally forced yourself to look at him, taking in his guarded posture and pained expression.

Your heart sank.

“I just need to be honest with you.”

Hawks’s brow soured, lips twitching, “Go for it, dove.”

You laughed, maybe trying to soothe yourself, “It’s probably is just, so fucking stupid, all things considered.”

You ran a hand through your hair, biting your lip between sentences and willing yourself to just get it out—

“Hawks, I like you. A lot.”

He still didn’t say anything and you could feel shards of your heart drive into your lungs.

You forced yourself to look up at him, smiling with the slight release of tension in your sternum, however painful.

“I know, we’re just friends, right? I’m just the barista and you’re my special, pro hero regular. I know I’m overstepping right now, but it feels unfair for me to not be honest with you.”

Keigo already knew this, right? He knew how you felt, fuck, he’d felt how you felt. He just wasn’t prepared for the exploding and thrumming in his chest when you told him with your sweet lips and kind words.

Why did it feel so different when you were smiling at him like you were in pain and telling him so fucking honestly with your words?

It was the thing about you that he admired the most, that candor in your tone and the grin in your cheeks as you spoke so.

But, your smile was falling, leaving watery-looking eyes.

“Hawks, I like you. Way too much for friends, and I needed to say something.”

Keigo’s mouth was dry.

For the first time in so fucking long, he was genuinely speechless.

He couldn’t recall a time in his life anyone had spoken so earnestly to him, just you. Just you, you, you— casually, over and over again, you talked to him like he was something real and something to be cared for. It was subtle, but it was one of the many things that made him want you closer.

Yet, despite all his bundled up desires, he was lost for words.

“I’m sorry—”

He stopped you, “(Y/N), please don’t apologize.”

“But—”

“(Y/N).”

Hawks’ voice was sharp. It made the expression on your face rapidly fall.

He looked at you with rapt attention, arms uncrossing from his chest.

He turned to you on the couch, feathers fluffed up and twitching.

Your nose stung as Hawks, all pretty golds and ambers, shook out an exhale and balled up the blanket in his lap.

“Hawks—”

“Why would you need to be sorry?”

Hawks looked at you with wide eyes, brow creased. His shoulders were... shaking?

Your head spun, leg aching, “... What do you mean?”

Hawks finally met your gaze, giving you the sweetest, saddest smile you’d ever seen, “Dove, you’re acting like there’s no way I could feel the same way.”

Every cell in your body stuttered.

“You’ve done it since we’ve met.”

Hawks scooted closer on the cushions of the couch.

“You’ve always acted like there’s just no way I could like you, give a shit about you—”

He moved a bit closer.

You couldn’t make yourself move.

“You want to know the truth?”

You creaked out a nod.

Keigo couldn’t help the way he went to cup your cheeks in his hands, thumbs rubbing along the apples of your cheeks. You lean into his touch, just like at the hospital, despite the blend of absolute fear and confusion in your expression.

“How could I not care about you, dove?” And it finally came out. “I care about so much— dove, I don’t know what to fucking say.”

That made you speechless, lips parting just the slightest bit as Hawks continued, losing composure with his morphing expressions.

He wet his lips, swallowing, “Dove, I’ve never—any of this. I-I don’t know what o-or how to say any of what I want to right now.”

You speak before thinking.

“Show me, if you don’t know how to say it.”

The idea seemed so novel as Keigo ran a thumb over your bottom lip, pulling it from between your teeth. He met your gaze with the gooiest, sweetest look you’d ever seen in your life, “You want me to?”

“Please.”

It was all the two of you had wanted for a while now, right?

“If I kiss you, I’m not ever gonna be able to make this go away, am I?” Keigo was speaking to himself, just above his breath. But, you were more than close enough to hear him.

“Hey, Hawks? I don’t know if we can make ‘this’ try to go away.” You grabbed one of the hands cupping your face, pulling it away, only to shakily press in your lips to the bones on the back of it. “I don’t want to anymore.”

“Y-you gotta stop being so sweet, (Y/N)—”

Neither of you could wait a moment longer.

Your arms wrapped around Keigo’s shoulder. In the same motions, he pulled you closer by your waist, dragging you finally closer to him.

He held your jaw like you were the most precious thing in the world. Because, truthfully, you were to him. The sentiment was shared Deeply.

Your lips pressed together and the long-held tensions in your chests mutually shattered, dissolving in the honeyed touch of each other’s genuine attention.

You angled your head perfectly, Keigo’s hand guiding you as his mouth worked against yours. It wasn’t a particularly steamy sort of affair, but by god, it wasn’t in any way chaste. Not with the tight grip and thumbing on your ribs. Not with the way your hands tangled in the soft (holy fuck, soft) hair at the base of Keigo’s skull.

You both tasted each other's sweetness, craving more of it after denying yourselves of it for so long. It was white-hot, exploding behind your eyes, even as your quirk remained dormant. Keigo was honey and cream and smoked spices all dancing across your palette.

To Keigo? You were sweet, cool water over a hot burn. You were the heat of a hearth rolling over him on the coldest of days. He swears that in the first moments he finally got to be close to you, and over and over again— he finally understood how your quirk worked.

There was no way that finally feeling you, feeling you as he felt you, could be described with just five senses.

You pulled away first, gasping for breath and arching your back into him. You lingered as close as you could, pressing your forehead to Keigo’s while your breaths mingled. You didn’t dare stray far.

“Was that enough to show you?” Keigo asked, breathless. He kept a wide hand against your back, urging you with a bit of soft pressure to put your weight into it. You complied, settling in his hold as Keigo stroked at your hot cheeks.

You nodded, beaming up at him with that sunny smile of yours. It never failed to make heat burn through Keigo and god, did it feel good to finally let it unabashed.

“I take it, you like me too, huh,” You smiled, looking a bit embarrassed.

“Very much, very much,” Keigo repeated, pressing a kiss to your nose (he’d always wanted to do that). “So much, (Y/N). I apologize for not saying anything sooner. This is just...”

“New to you, right?” You finished his sentence, thumbing along the back of his neck in a way that made Keigo just melt. “It’s been a while for me too, if it makes you feel better.”

“It does, dove. Thank you.” Keigo let out a deep breath, shaking his head against yours. “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner.”

“It’s alright, same goes for me,” As much as you needed to adjust due to the angle of your recovering leg, you couldn’t make yourself do it. You were so wonderfully close to Hawks, you never wanted to move.

“If we’re being honest, then I need to be honest with you,” Hawks met your eyes, his expression going a little dimmer.

You braced for the worst.

He picked up your shift easily, finally able to express how quickly he caught your mood after so long of being attuned to it.

“Oh wait, no, (Y/N), nothing terrible, I promise,” Hawks rubbed at your sides. “It’s about the miel.”

“The... miel?” You cocked your head to the side, confused, recalling the drink somewhat hazily. “The drink I made you on the day of... the attack?”

Hawks gave you a tense smile, “That one, yeah. Remember how you said it was just based on your ambient feelings?”

“Uh-huh.” You let confusion lace your tone until it slowly started to dawn on you.

“You made the drink, ambiently, around me—”

Your eyes widened, mouth falling open, “Oh my god, Hawks, did my feelings for you get in the drink?”

Hawks graced you with a sweet, sympathetic smile, fingers tucking at the hair around your ear, “They did, dove. I’ve kind of known for a few days, it just hasn’t been the time or setting to say something. I apologize.”

“N-no, it’s okay, I totally understand,” You sighed into his grip. “I really thought it might be something worse.”

“Consider your worries assuaged,” Hawks hummed, eyes drifting to your boot. He deadpanned suddenly. “On a scale of one to ten, how bad does your leg hurt right now?”

Fairly bad, considering. You were half on your knees, the booted leg twisted awkwardly while still raised to the coffee table. This wasn’t even to mention the arch of your back so you could be all that closer to Hawks.

The pain of the position was easy to forget; you were still shaking from kissing Hawks just once.

“Uh, maybe like a seven, once I can feel anything other than how good you felt just now,” you hummed, grinning up at Hawks as his face went bright red.

The infinite pleasure you received, making him blush so sweetly.

He shook it off, squeezing your sides, “Cute. Very cute. Mutually returned sentiment, but let’s adjust.”

You nodded but didn’t have much time to react as a bundle of Hawks’s feathers lifted you every which way, albeit incredibly gently. All said and done, he was fully upright against the back of the couch. With the support of a feather or two, Hawks’s arms tugged you into his lap. Your legs stretched to the side, the booted one immediately propped up by a feather-supplied pillow.

You both settled yourselves, blushing and leaning on each other now that you finally were allowing yourself to.

Keigo fully wrapped his arms around you, pulling you tight against him. One of his wings even shifted to drape over one his shoulder, sheltering the two of you in a canopy of a crimson. Keigo let his hands wander over your hips, not seeking anything more than blessed attention and heat. You gave it all to him, tucking your face into his collarbone, drowning in the scent that made you feel at home.

Keigo pressed his lips to your crown and legitimately shuddering.

He spoke to himself, so faintly and quietly, you hardly caught it, “I’ve wanted to do this for so long.”

There was melancholy in his voice, but you were quick to strip it away.

You brushed your lips along his jaw, savoring the way he held you tighter, “I have too. Can we do this more?”

“Anytime, dove. Anytime.”

“Right now sound good?”

You withdrew to beam up at him as you were so good at doing, only to be smothered by craving-satiating kisses anywhere Keigo could get to. The sweet, high laughter that he dripped onto you made your heart burst all over again.

And you finally, finally fell into the other sweetly, warmly, and properly.

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taglist: @thepandapopo @hawksexual @sinclairsamess @darcia22 @inhalingsoysauce @yee-fxcking-haw

#salem writes #lavender latte #hawks x reader #hawks x y/n #hawks x you #takami keigo x reader #takami keigo x you #takami keigo x y/n #mha reader insert #hawks reader insert #hawks #takami keigo #hawks mha #hawks bnha #im soft for this one yall #so soft

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btsslowburnfic · 3 years

Text

The Arrangement Ch. 16

Story summary: Desperately in need of money, you answered the questionable ad. AKA-Arranged marriage AU featuring Y/N and Yoongi

Chapter Summary: Dinner at the “Best Diner in Seoul.” (Still not a date though, right?)

Previous Chapter here

The two of you dropped the van off without any issues. You walked outside the rental agency, onto the main street stretching your arms overhead. You turned to face Yoongi, “Alright, are you ready for dinner at the best diner in Seoul?”

Yoongi smiled, glad you had rallied from earlier. He put his hands in his pockets. “The best? I don’t know; that’s a pretty high standard. This is a world-class city.”

You started to walk, “It is, and I have eaten a lot of places. This one is the best diner.”

Yoongi followed you to the subway station. “Where is this diner?” He asked. The subway was uncrowded, with not much of a rush happening on Sunday night. You each scanned your cards.

“It’s by work.”

Yoongi racked his brain trying to think of a diner near BigHit but wasn’t able to. He shrugged.

The subway car was mostly empty and the ride back to the city center was smooth. Yoongi scrolled through his phone. You got off and you led him down a few alleyways to an unassuming diner. It was truly a hole in the wall.

The neon sign above the door, “Dynamite Diner,” had a few letters out: DYMT DNER. Yoongi chuckled slightly and made a confused face, but took your word for it as you opened the door. The inside of the diner was clean and brightly decorated. There was a counter with bright white stools and several cherry red booths around the perimeter. Donuts sat in a display case next to a vintage register up on the countertop.

“I should have brought my sunglasses,” Yoongi joked as he followed you over to one of the booths. You laughed and put both your personal and work phones on the table and stretched. You were certain you would be sore tomorrow from moving all those boxes.

"What is that?" Yoongi asked, sounding mildly horrified as he gestured to your personal phone.

"Oh this?" You held it up. You had jokingly changed your lock screen to the picture you took of him sleeping the other night to see how long it would take him to notice. "It's you, looking so adorable."

His eyes widened "You put Tubby on me."

"Aww is that the bear's name?” You turned the phone back towards you to look at it. “So cute".

Yooongi touched his ear awkwardly, "It’s a dog, not a bear. Tubby was my family's pet growing up; our first dog. Anyways, I can't be your lock screen!" He pouted, a slight accent suddenly permeating his speech.

You looked over at him, trying to keep a straight face. "Ok first of all it looks like a bear, but that it was your family’s dog makes it even more adorable. Secondly, it's my personal phone sooo…. Third. where are you from?”

“What...what does that...Daegu.”

You smirked and looked at your phone again. “I guess if it really bothers you I can change it, but look? It makes me smile." You held it up and grinned.

The waitress came over, dropped off menus, and took your drink orders: Coffee, water, and a cup of ice for Yoongi.

"Oh my God, keep it." Yoongi opened his menu, clearly flustered.

You laughed, "Are you sure?"

"Yes, just stop showing it to me. Put it face down."

You smiled and complied, then flipped through the menu. “Why did we both just order coffee?” You asked. “It’s 9 pm. That’s a terrible idea.”

“I can drink coffee and fall asleep, no problem. What's good here?”

“The noodles are really good. I'm getting the gaeranjim tonight. I used to come here after working at the bar since it's open 24/7.”

Yoongi looked over at, watching you scan the menu. You gave so much to the people you cared about." Spicy or regular?"

"Huh?" You asked, bobbing your head back up.

"Spicy noodles or plain?"

"It's cold out, so you have to get spicy." You said it so matter of factly.

“Ok, of course. Why did I even ask?”

You put the menu down and grabbed your work phone. "Let's see what this week brings. Meetings. Meetings. Sound mixing? Recording. Meet with Hoseok. Hair and make-up department. Photo shoot? Photo shoot?"

Yoongi sat his menu down and interlaced his fingers in front of his face, resting his mouth against them. “Yep. They want new pictures for social media and for the album. My next album deadline is in 90 days but they begin all of this stuff in advance for things like printing and promos.”

“Oooo so you'll be like a model?”

Yoongi rolled his eyes and the server walked up to the table. She sat down all of the drinks carefully. The two of you placed your food orders and handed in the menus.

“Min Yoongi. Model.' You teased, striking a pose.

“Are you saying I'm not good looking enough to be a model?” He feigned offense while pouring his coffee over the ice and stirring it.

“Oh please, I told you at the job interview I thought you were good looking. It's just hard to imagine you sitting still and being pretty.”

Yoongi rubbed the back of his neck. “Well it's in my contract. And my fans like it. As much as I hate parts about my job, I do love my fans. " He took a sip of his drink.

“That's sweet.” You smiled.

Yoongi blushed a little, “Well I wouldn't be where I am without them, right? You have to have an audience to be a performer. Someone has to listen, otherwise you're just screaming into the void.”

“I guess that makes sense. Being on the consumer side of things I never really thought of it like that. Huh.” You sat back in the booth thoughtfully and sipped some coffee.

Yoongi looked out the glass window at the street outside. It had been a strange couple of weeks for him and yet this all felt normal. He couldn't remember the last time he had gone out to a restaurant with someone because he wanted to. He covered a yawn and looked back over at you.

You were people watching in the diner. You were normally only here in the middle of the night. The bell above the entrance dinged and you saw Chinsun, your regular server, walk in to begin her night shift. You smiled as you remembered all the coffee and bullshit you had shared with her. There were nights you got off work at 3 and knew it made more sense to power through and go into the office. You decided you would talk to her later if she wasn't busy.

The food came out a few minutes later. Hunger had snuck up on you. You went from zero to famished. You began blowing on your meal.

“Y/N?” You heard the familiar voice of Chinsun “I haven't seen you in a while.” She had on her white and red work uniform and her graying hair done up in a bun.

You looked up from your eggs and smiled, “Nice to see you. I quit working at the bar, I just have 1 job now.” You said happily.

“That's great, you can only burn the candle from both ends for so long. I'm surprised you did it for as long as you did.” She responded.

You shrugged and took a sip of water. “Well we all do what we have to.”

“And?.... who is your friend?” Chinsun gestured to Yoongi who was mid-slurp on his noodles. Apparently he was also starving.

“This is my boss, Min Yoongi.”

He patted his mouth with a napkin before speaking, “Hello,” he bowed his head. “Nice to meet you.”

“I’m Chinsun. It’s nice to meet you too. Well I'll let you get back to your meal, I'm glad you stopped by, I was worried when I didn’t see you for a while. Make sure you two come back!”

“Thank you. You are so sweet. I’ll make sure to stop in again soon, take care.” You took a bite as soon as she left.

“These noodles are in fact, the best.” Yoongi appraised between slurps.

“I told you. You can’t beat a hole in the wall diner sometimes. So...new album in 90 days? How’s it going?”

“It’s ok. A few songs are done. I got feedback from Adora last week so that was helpful. This album in general will be less….angry. Yeah less angry sounding.”

“Cool. What comes first, the music or the lyrics?”

“They are separate completely. The music and then I see if any of the lyrics I’ve written match the mood. Sometimes it just goes together and sometimes it doesn’t.”

“Interesting.”

Yoongi talked a bit more about the process of creating an album from start to finish. You had never put any thought into it so it was fascinating. The rest of your meal passed without incident and you were happy that when they brought the bill, Yoongi actually let you pay.

You waved to Chinsun as you exited. Yoongi rubbed his stomach. “Too many noodles.”

You smiled and then looked up at the sky. It was beginning to snow. “No such thing. And look. What great timing. The first snow of the year.”

“Gross.” He quickly replied.

“Ahahaha you really hate the cold don’t you?” You said as you held out your hand, watching the flakes land and melt almost instantly.

“I do. The snow is pretty though. I’ll look at it tomorrow from the warmth and safety of inside.”

“You’re no fun. I love the snow.” You played with it for a few more seconds. “Alright let’s get back.”

The snow continued to fall as you began the short walk back to BigHit. It was so pretty. The sidewalk was almost empty and the snowfall made it seem even quieter than it was. You took your phone out and snapped a picture for Instagram. In a few minutes, you were back at the building. The two of you scanned your badges to enter the lobby and waved to the night security guard.

“I’m heading to the studio. You should take some aspirin and a hot bath.” Yoongi said while you waited for the elevator.

You reached over without thinking and dusted snowflakes off of his hair. “Do you need help with anything? I also had coffee, I’ll probably be up for a while.”

Yoongi was briefly unable to answer, still surprised from having been dusted. “Nope. I’m just going to write. Go, rest your muscles. Watch Netflix. Relax. You literally moved a small apartment’s worth of stuff today.”

The two of you got on the elevator. “Alright. If you insist. I’m not going to argue with that. Where is the aspirin?”

“My bathroom. Bottom left drawer.”

“Got it.” The elevator slowly climbed. You took a deep breath and looked over at Yoongi. “Thanks again for all your help today. Like. ALLLLL of it. The van, my aunt, my brother. Thanks. It was a lot.”

Yoongi avoided eye contact, finding his shoes very fascinating. “No problem. Like I said, it wasn’t that bad for me. I got free soup and noodles.”

You laughed, “Good to know your chauffeur services are so affordable.” The elevator stopped on the 14th floor.

“See you tomorrow.” Yoongi started to exit, “If Jin’s girlfriend acts up, call me.” Yoongi added as though he suddenly remembered something.

“Now that I know that’s a thing, apparently, I’ll be fine. Thanks though.” You waved as the doors closed.

You’d be fine. Yoongi reassured himself as he walked over to the studio. He was suddenly acutely aware of just how quiet the 14th floor was with no one else on it. He walked over to the large windows on the opposite side of the elevators. The snow was really coming down now, and the ground would soon be blanketed. He opened the shopping app and searched “snow gloves.” He took a deep breath, What am I doing? He walked over to the other side of the floor, punched in his passcode, and entered Genius lab, ready to get some writing done.

Fuck, you were so glad today was almost over. You walked into the apartment and immediately started a bath. You set up your laptop on the toilet lid. You were going to live your best life, watching Netflix in the bathtub. You had heard of such luxuries and were strangely excited by it. You headed up to the loft area, randomly grabbed a stuffed animal and threw it onto Yoongi’s bed. You grabbed the aspirin and smiled as you passed the Pikachu you had yeeted onto Yoongi’s comforter and imagined his annoyance when he discovered it. Ah, it made you laugh. You grabbed yourself some water from the kitchen and headed off to soak away your soreness and forget the day. You paused briefly to admire the snow coming down in full force now. So beautiful. NEXT CHAPTER

@lidda @anpanman-sonyeondan @firefairy1 @cuteipat @sugaslittlekookies @janeelizabeth1216 @deeepvibes @gxldenhunny @livelyjay @niniita-ah @bobbyboops @honeysunandsoil @deathkat657 (i missed your tag for the last chapter, so sorry!!)

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lizardkingeliot · 3 years

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First Line Meme

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line, then tag 10 of your favorite authors!

tagged by @phoenix-ascended thank you!!!! 💖

Okay SO. I’m gonna cheat a little bit here. The first nine I’m going to post are all going to be from the first nine chapters of time cast a spell on you (but you won’t forget me) but to be fair the chapters are so long they each might as well be a story all their own lmao. ANYWAY. Here we go. I’ll post the first paragraph from each I guess, in order of chapter number obvs:

1. Quentin shook out the tension in his hands. He didn’t understand why it wasn’t getting any easier. For days on end he’d been trying to perfect the illumination spell the rest of his fellow First Years had nailed in a matter of hours. But no matter how he tried, Quentin couldn’t seem to make anything more than a spark.

2. Quentin waited until Eliot was asleep to slip out of bed and hastily tug his clothes back on. The illuminated screen of his phone told him it was just past 12am. Clutching his shoes to his chest, he opened the door as quietly as he could manage and tip-toed out into the hall, all but running to his room and clicking the lock shut firmly behind him.

3. Dry-mouthed and groggy, Quentin woke in Eliot’s bed alone. He groaned, groping around for his phone to check the time for a long moment before remembering he’d left it in his room. Quentin rubbed at his eyes, rolling over and up to his feet, muscles he didn’t even know existed screaming as he went. He picked his bathrobe up from the floor and pulled it on, then tottered down the hall to empty his bladder and brush his teeth and gulp down frantic handfuls of water from the bathroom sink.

4. Tuesday morning was hell. Quentin woke just before eleven, empty as a husk. Filthy, all used up. His thighs sticking together where Eliot’s come had dried there in the night. Quickly realizing he’d already missed his first class of the day, Quentin pressed his face into his pillow, pulled the covers up over his head, and surrendered to the blank comfort of late morning sleep.

5. Quentin couldn’t feel his face, or much of his body for that matter. Which was… fine. It was great. It was fucking phenomenal. As long as it meant he also couldn’t feel the sinkhole that had formed in the center of his chest. The one that had been there for days, weeks, months, fucking years. He couldn’t feel anything at all.

6. Quentin felt a lever turn inside his chest, the source of his magic eking out a spark. Enough at least to send a message to Julia back at Brakebills. One of those little enchanted paper airplanes they’d learned his first week in Practical Applications that he never could get to fly quite right. He scrawled his SOS on a cocktail napkin and watched it flutter away like the world’s saddest butterfly. The universe took pity on him. Quentin figured he was probably due. 7. Christmas morning was a lackluster affair.

Exchanging gift cards over coffee and devouring great mounds of Ted Coldwater’s Famous Ham and Eggs while still in their pajamas. After, Julia and Quentin lay on the living room floor and Skyped with James, his grandparents waving hello from Pennsylvania in the background. They opened the stack of impersonal and overly-extravagant gifts from Julia’s mother that had been delivered to the house the night before. Quentin received a pair of cashmere socks and a leather belt with a shiny silver buckle.

8. Quentin stood at the bathroom sink, watching his face shift in the steamy mirror glass. Stark naked save for the towel looped around his hips. Hair dripping in cool, fat beads down onto the planks of his shoulders. So clean he swore he could feel himself sparkling from the inside out.

9. Quentin tossed his phone down onto the floor and leaned back into Eliot’s heat. “It’s almost like you want my dad to know I’m faking sick so I can stay in and let you fuck me until I pass out.”

Some patterns I guess: I love how chapters 2-4 all open with Quentin in bed after hooking up with eliot but all with very different vibes. In chapter 2, he’s just experienced subspace for the first time without having any idea that’s what actually happened to him and he is having A Time. In chapter 3, they had a very intense hook-up the night before and Quentin is sneaking out again, but this time he fully plans on returning right after. And in chapter 4, we see the joy of their beginnings at Columbia contrasted hard with the misery of where Quentin is at Brakebills.

ALSO 2/3 of the chapters begin with Quentin’s name which feels right considering just how deep into his headspace we are in this fic.

Okay. Anyway. Moving on:

10. Eliot loved watching Quentin lose himself in a moment.

It could be anything really: mastering a brand new spell; savoring something decadent and sweet; fussing with his hair when he thought no one was looking; focusing very hard on making himself a cocktail and getting the ratios just right; ranting about his Fillory books; reading his Fillory books, to himself but especially aloud; reading anything; riding dick...

That last one held a particularly special place in Eliot’s heart.

(from but i would die for you in secret aka the one where eliot is pretty sure quentin is only using him for his dick. spoiler alert: he’s not they’re just idiots)

11. Teddy was turning six years old. There was nothing in the world he loved more than stories.

His favorite was a version of Lord of the Rings Quentin had cobbled together from memory. He must have told it to their son a hundred times before it occurred to Eliot he could contribute more to story time than ogling Quentin’s hands while he spoke, or popping in to suggest when the Balrog should actually be making an appearance, Quentin.

(from in a land far away aka the mosaic fic where eliot makes margo hand puppets for teddy)

12. The words came out of Quentin’s mouth without a single coherent thought behind them.

“I’m just about to catch a movie with my boyfriend!”

There, outside the coffee shop on Eighth Avenue, Quentin’s maybe-friend from high school whose name he couldn’t even remember shot him a wide-mouthed grin. “Oh, that’s wonderful!” she said. “Which movie? My wife Danielle and I don’t have any plans for the afternoon and we’d love to tag along. Isn’t that right sweetie?”

(from your name like a song (i sing to myself) aka the one where quentin’s memory is shit and he and eliot pretend to be boyfriends in a post-monster world)

13. Eliot dropped the last box onto the floor. “Daddy’s wardrobe is safe at last,” he said, lowering himself down into the gold chair with a sigh. “Though I can’t seem to shake the terrible feeling that Todd raided my closet at the Cottage before I could get to it all.”

Quentin surveyed the damage from his spot on the sofa: there were at least seven large packing boxes bursting at their seams scattered around the penthouse. “I don’t know how you would even be able to tell. I’m pretty sure one of those boxes is just vests.”

Eliot quirked a brow in his direction. “Some of us are cultivating an aesthetic, Quentin,” he said. “And I didn’t see you complaining when I let you dress me for dinner last night.”

Quentin couldn’t help but smile. “I wouldn’t call picking between two pre-approved ties dressing you, El.”

“I’m also counting the fact that you said my ass looked great in my new pants.”

(from the parentheses (all clicking shut behind you) aka the suspender porn fic)

14. The night Quentin Coldwater died, a brand new star appeared in the sky over Brakebills. A little brighter than Venus, it stayed fixed in the same position for weeks on end. Eliot hardly would have noticed such a thing if it hadn’t been for the way that it hummed. Or at least, that’s how it felt. A humming in his bones. An old, familiar presence. Margo thought that he’d gone mad with grief. Alice was the only one who could understand.

(from a myth of devotion aka the one where eliot is sorta icarus and quentin is sorta the sun)

15. It didn’t happen the way Eliot expected it to. He dropped the letter into the mailbox, and pain blossomed in his abdomen so brightly it was like he’d gone supernova.

And everything went dark.

(from by night, beloved, tie your heart to mine aka the one where eliot sends the letter)

16. Eliot stretched out over the mosaic, his shirt riding up just a little as he clicked a yellow tile into place, and Quentin’s pulse leapt in his neck once, twice. Three times. His breath hitched. It was becoming nearly impossible to focus. In the heat of the sun, watching the sweat soak Eliot’s shirt clean-through.

(from i won’t deny (all the things i would do) aka the one where quentin and eliot start hooking up three months into their life at the mosaic)

17. After they decided kissing on the mouth was okay, Quentin and Eliot wanted to do it all the time. In every corner of the penthouse (“If you don’t stop sucking face while I’m trying to eat my sandwich,” Kady said one afternoon, “I’m literally going to feed you to the Baba Yaga.”), outside coffee shops, in between bites at the sushi place in Chelsea that Eliot loved. Once, they went to see a movie they couldn’t even remember the name of just to make out for two blissful, uninterrupted hours in the dark.

(from and a song of praise upon your lips aka part three of the box of chocolates series where quentin and eliot are definitely dating and finally talk about their feelings)

18. Eliot startled awake to something sharp and pointed slamming into his shin. He opened his eyes, and the toe of Margo’s shoe made contact one last time. Pain seared up the side of his leg, and he winced. Jesus, she really did not realize her own strength sometimes. Or the strength of her Jimmy Choo’s.

(from that you may know (the secrets of your heart) aka part two of box of chocolates aka the one where hand stuff is still banging)

19. Eliot Waugh was High King in his blood, and somehow that felt right. When they first arrived in Fillory, Quentin assumed he would be the one to wear the crown. He’d dreamed of it most of his life after all. On the throne in Whitespire, a fleet of talking animals at his disposal, a noble quest waiting around every corner to ferry him away to the next grand, heart-stopping adventure. But when the blade bit into his palm and drew no blood, and Eliot’s came up red, it felt like the final piece of some perfect puzzle clicking into place.

(from and this is the map of my heart aka the one where quentin wants to marry eliot and they have some incredibly filthy sex before everything falls apart)

20. Eliot walked into the penthouse to an eerie quiet. He found Quentin sitting in the kitchen under a dim illumination spell, drinking a beer and poking at the screen of his phone.

“Hey,” Eliot said, setting his shopping bag down on the counter. “Where is everyone?”

Quentin sighed, rubbing at his eyes. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. “Out. I don’t know.”

Eliot squinted at him. “You didn’t want to go with them?”

Quentin lifted his eyes, shot Eliot a look. “No.”

(from for love (if it finds you worthy) aka part one of the box of chocolates series)

And I have now been here doing this for so long I no longer have time to try and find anymore patterns lmao BUT I will be tagging: @thelucindac @akisazame @fishfingersandscarves @nellie-elizabeth @freneticfloetry @rubickk7 and anyone else who wants to play!

#the magicians #queliot #otp: proof of concept #myfic

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babycracker · 3 years

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first line tag game

thank you for the tag @amlovelies! 🤍

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favourite opening line. Then tag some of your favourite authors!

1. pranks (litg: bobby/mc)

“Hey Jenna!” Bobby jogs over to join her as she walks back in through the front door, and she raises an eyebrow at his cheerier-than-usual demeanor.

“Did I miss anything while I was away?” she asks, returning his smile all the same because his happiness is infectious

2. love or money (litg: bobby/mc)

Bobby’s eyes cracked open, peering into the darkness like every other morning. He always woke up before the lights came on. Even after a month in the Villa, for a split second he forgot where he was and a pang of panic shot through him when he felt Amanda shift beside him before the last twenty-nine days came flooding back to him, and he allowed himself the tiniest of smug smirks.

3. when bobby met lani (litg: bobby/mc) explicit, minors dni

The beer's cheap and nasty, the bouncers are more interested in hitting on the girls coming through the door than actually providing any kind of security detail, and the male talent is… subpar. The music's half okay though, Lani thinks to herself as she chokes down the last of the God awful beer she'd ordered. The barman, who's barely taken his eyes off of her since she sat down, nods toward her empty bottle with his eyebrows raised.

4. the one that got away, chapter 23 (litg: bobby/f!oc) main story is explicit, minors dni

His phone beeping and vibrating across Tash's nightstand woke Bobby up. He groaned and squinted at it, the small light flashing in the corner indicating a text message. He heard Tash groan from where her face was pressed into his back as he reached out for it.

"What're you doing?" she murmured as she shifted to lay her head on his chest when he rolled onto his back, squeezing her eyes closed against the sudden light.

"I got a text, sorry."

"How much did it take for you not to yell that?"

He felt her grin against him and chuckled, "not as much as it used to."

5. keep on running, chapter 8 (litg: bobby/god knows honestly the boy was a ho)

Bobby slips his phone, keys and wallet into his pockets and steps out from behind the counter of the music store, ready to head home, but stops short when he sees Gary standing just inside the door waiting for him. He offers a small smile, which Bobby doesn’t return as he tries to walk past him and out onto the street. Gary’s arm shoots out, his hand on Bobby’s chest to stop him from moving, and he sighs and looks over at him.

6. while the cats are away, chapter 3 (litg: bobby&f!oc)

As usual Bobby was the first to wake up, and had quietly made his way to the bathroom to shower and get ready for the day while he had a few moments of peace. By the time he was done and heading back out to the bedroom, he was passing some of the others on their way to the bathroom. Tash was perched up on the edge of their bed waiting for him, holding a cup out to him as he made his way closer to the bed.

7. untitled (litg: ????)

Noah sat at their usual booth in the back of the bar, running his finger around the rim of his glass before letting out a sigh and checking the time on his phone again. He’d arrived early so he knew he had no business being impatient, but he’d needed to get out of that damn house, away from Hope.

It had been bad enough when they’d been playing nice. Watching her smile to his face while knowing that she was more than likely trashing him to whoever would listen as soon as his back was turned. Not that he had a right to be pissed off about that lately; he’d been doing the same thing for the last few weeks. But since signing the divorce papers, Hope had become a she-devil straight from the depths of Hell.

8. 25 (holi)days of wayhaven, day 31 (twc: adam/f!detective)

They’ve come a long way, and both of them feel it whenever they’re together. A long way from Jordan deliberately riling him up because she knew that just about everything she did irritated him. A long way from Adam going out of his way to spend as little time with her as possible.

It’s taken them a long time to realise that they were doing these things - leaning into their dislike for each other - as a way to distract themselves from the fact that they have always liked each other. Maybe they’ve always loved each other, though neither of them are willing to say that out loud.

9. untitled (twc: felix/f!detective)

Felix can't sit still. It's not as though it's unusual for him by any means, but it seems to be exaggerated when he's spent the last six hours in a place where there is literally nothing to do.

He's slumped on the chair beside the hospital bed, slouched down so low that his ass isn't even on the seat anymore, one of his legs jiggling up and down and both hands drumming erratically on his knees.

He lets out an impatient sigh and sits upright again, taking his hat off and running a hand through his hair.

10. sick like me, chapter 20 (litg: bobby/mc) explicit, minors dni

It had happened slowly, so slowly that if Lani hadn’t found herself (mostly) weirdly excited about it she might not have even noticed that it was happening. But Bobby was most definitely moving in, slowly but surely. It started with little things, a change of clothes here and there, some toiletries, until she was helping him sell off some of his bigger furniture, stuff that they both knew wouldn’t fit into Lani’s apartment.

After a few weeks, the two of them stood in the middle of what used to be his living room but was now nothing more than an empty space, as Bobby turned his keys over and over in his hand.

11. fire meet gasoline, chapter 4 (twc: morgan/m!oc)

She'd expected him to dress down a little, seeing that they are likely venturing into a sewer this morning. But all that's missing is his jacket; he's still wearing his usual long sleeve dress shirt and vest though his sleeves have been partially folded back, revealing the smallest glimpse of a tattoo on the outside of his right forearm.

"You know you're probably going to get covered in crap, right?"

"Wrong. But if you want to keep doubting me, go right ahead," he grins an obnoxiously cocky grin at her before turning and heading around the warehouse towards the sewers.

12. 28 dates with unit bravo, day 10 (twc: morgan/m!oc)

She doesn't like him. He's hot, that's all. And kind of cocky and kind of an asshole and what can she say? Morgan's into it. Maybe it's because he's the same as her; not relationship material by a long shot, but she has a feeling he knows his way around the bedroom. Probably the kitchen, bathroom and any number of outdoor locations as well. That, and he’s hot.

13. untitled (twc: adam/f!detective)

He can hear her pacing the hall outside of his room. She pauses every time she passes his door, and everytime she does he tenses, only to relax again just slightly when she returns to pacing.

Part of him wants to throw his door open and drag her into his room. Another part wants to stick his head out the door and order her to return to her room and stop shuffling around outside of his. But a part bigger than both of them makes him stay put, sitting on the edge of his bed and carefully unlacing his boots.

14. luck of the unit, day 20 (twc: adam/f!detective)

"Say another one!" Jordan can barely get the words out between gasps of laughter, only becoming more hysterical every time she catches a glimpse of the unimpressed expression on Adam’s face.

“This is hardly the best use of your time here,” he points out, pausing to gesture around the study, “you are supposed to be studying.”

“I am studying, I’m learning a foreign language,” she insists with a defiant nod, and when his shoulders sag in defeat she knows she’s got him. “Come on, another one.”

15. untitled (tanner, not fanfic)

"Does it hurt?"

"Nah."

"Liar."

Tanner pauses for a moment, unable to hold back a wince when the tattooist starts again. "Little bit."

Skylar grins at him and sits up straight in the seat again, smiling smugly at him before spinning the seat and herself around in a circle.

"Dad's gonna kill you," she points out when she finally stops herself from spinning, and Tanner rolls his eyes at her.

16. echoes in the forest, chapter 13 (twc: adam/f!detective)

“I got a bad feeling about this,” Felix murmurs quietly, trudging along between Nate and Mason. Jordan and Adam are walking up ahead close by the boy as he continues wandering through the forest.

“You mean you haven’t felt that way since we got here?” Mason scoffs, not bothering to lift his eyes from the ground in front of him.

“Yeah, but worse now,” Felix answers, and Nate places a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“It will be alright,” he tries, but somehow Felix doesn’t find himself as reassured as he usually does when Nate attempts to comfort him.

oop, didn’t quite make 20. and jfc did i have to dive down to the bottom of the barrel to get what i did, some of these were almost a year ago. i’m noticing now that i start with a character’s name more often than not. honestly i don’t think i can pick a favourite, i’ve been thinking on it for like 15 minutes now and i honestly dunno.

and i know some of you think that you know everything that i have written even if it hasn’t been/isn’t to be posted... and i know that seeing this list of untitleds, you may be surprised and i’m sorry lol.

gonna tag @dwead-piwate-meggers @mistyeyedbi @masonscig @echohauville and @agentsunshine (no pressure ofc!) and to anyone else who wants to get in on this, tag me!

#tag games #making me go crawling back into litg territory aml #i was behind enemy lines for a minute there

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teddy-bear-surprise · 3 years

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Chapter 2: The First Assignment

Link to the table of contents and disclaimers: 𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐲 ✷ 𝐌𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐒𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐤𝐢

A/N: Sorry for the long wait :( I just started writing the third chapter so that should be up relatively soon too... It was supposed to be a part of this chapter but I had to separate it bc google docs starts crapping out after like 10 pages

Mitch and Marcel exited the foyer after a long introduction and walked along the clean marble hallway. As Stilinski followed Marcel, he cautiously scanned the walls admiring the outdated yet stylish design. The heels of his oxfords clicked vibrantly with each stride, echoing against the tall ceiling. As their steps approached Genevieve’s hiding spot, she scampered back into her sanctuary. She stole a quick glance into the hallway, locking eyes with Mitch.

The sudden and unintended eye contact with Celestin’s daughter drove a stake through Mitch’s heart and invoked the dozens of warnings that Didier and Hurley had drilled into his head the prior week. Whatever you do, Stilinski, don’t engage with his daughter. Hey, Stilinski, remember that Marcel Celestin will literally rip you to pieces if you fuck up. Don’t forget: if Celestin even suspects you might be interested in his daughter, you’re deader than dead.

Mitch averted his eyes and gave his head a quick shake, ridding himself of the ridiculous internal commentary. He clearly understood the severity and danger of his employment, but he struggled to wrap his head around the notion of a father as overprotective as Marcel. Mitch never had anyone worry about him like that. When he joined the CIA, he was only able to do so because of his complete lack of family, friends, and life. He had always seen himself as expandable to a certain extent. Stilinski would put his life on the line, time after time, because he just could not fathom anything more important than his mission. In attempting to understand Marcel’s neuroticism, Mitch realized that Marcel’s mission was handing off his “business” to Genevieve, and that– like him– Marcel would stop at nothing to see his mission through. Even so, Mitch questioned the validity of the horror stories he had been bombarded with regarding the Celestins.

A lock snapped loudly, bringing Mitch out of his trance, as another one of Marcel’s employees opened the door for them to enter Marcel’s grand office. The walls were lined with glimmering trophies from Marcel’s past and photographs of him and Genevieve; Mitch was struck with surprise to see a mafioso’s office look so ordinary. The floor here was no longer made of stone and was instead a smooth dark wood. In the center of the room there lay a large, illustrious rug with a heavy mahogany desk sitting atop it. On the wall behind the desk, two grand windows brightened the room and gave it life.

Marcel continued walking in front of Stilinski, making his way to the looming chair behind the desk. He sat himself down, motioning across the desk, and told Mitch to take a seat. Mitch pulled out a chair and rested his body weight on the arm as he lowered himself onto the seat. He then leaned forward and looked at Marcel, waiting for further instruction.

“Stilinski,” Celestin began, “After Didier assesses your physical abilities today, I have a job for you. Tomorrow, I want you to take my daughter, Genevieve, to Paris. It’s been years since she’s been to the city and I’m having a soireè next week so she needs a new outfit. Your job is simple, keep her alive, make sure she gets something nice, and obviously don’t fuck up.”

“Of course, Sir. It would be my pleasure.” Mitch replied immediately, though his mind was churning.

“Let’s consider this a gesture of good faith. You get her there and back in one piece and you get to keep your job, you fail and… Well, I think you know what happens then, don’t you?”

Stilinski took a deep breath, “Yes, Sir. I am aware. Thank you for this opportunity, I won’t let you down.”

Celestin nodded his head towards the door, indicating that Mitch should leave. “Good, I wouldn’t want to lose another half-decent guard to incompetency.”

Mitch nodded while he got up and walked to the door. As he reached for the knob, the door swung open and he came face to face with Genevieve. Again. He looked down at her, unintentionally, before quickly backing away and letting her pass in front of him. She kept her eyes on him for another second before waltzing towards her father’s desk.

“One of the guards gave me a note telling me to meet you down here, what’s going on?”

“You know what, Genevieve, you got here just in time. Stilinski, stay here for just another minute and shut the door, will you?”

Stilinski closed the door again, “Yes, Sir.”

“Genevieve, I want you to meet our newest guard, Mitch Stilinski. He’s going to take you into Paris tomorrow to pick some things up for the event I’m planning for next weekend.”

Genevieve turned and glared at Mitch, slightly squinting her eyes, “Really?”

She had not meant it in a rude way, but she was truly shocked that her father would let the ‘new guy’ take her into the city.

“Sorry,” Genevieve continued. “That sounds like a brilliant idea father.”

Marcel smirked and waved his hand, dismissing the both of them. Mitch re-opened the door, holding it open for Genevieve. She walked past him without so much as a glance. Genevieve slipped back into the library, slamming the door loudly behind her.

Mitch, as confused as ever, shut Marcel’s door quietly. He walked rapidly away, trying to figure out where the gym was. He eventually found it, the first door to the right of the foyer, and saw Didier patiently waiting inside. Didier was leaning against a padded wall, wrapping his hands, dressed in a black t-shirt and sweatpants.

Didier greeted him nonchalantly, “So, Stilinski, how’s the first day going?”

“It could be better. Celestin already gave me an assignment and I don’t know if I’m anywhere near ready to take on this kind of responsibility.”

“Well then, you better learn soon.” He chuckled at the quip and rolled his eyes, “I kinda figured that out on my own, Axel. I’m gonna go change but I’ll be back in a minute.”

Stilinski stumbled into the locker room, trying to find the locker with his number on it. When he had been tattooed with the crow on his neck, he was assigned a number. Mitch had been given the number 7 following the death of the original number 7 in a gruesome shoot-out. The number was hidden within the bird’s eye, forever marking him as one of Celestin’s disciples. He scanned up, down, and across until the number 7 caught his eye. It was hidden in the far right corner of the locker room and when he opened it, it contained the same black shirt, pants, and hand wraps that Didier had. Mitch carefully took off his suit, hanging it in the locker, and put on the black ensemble. He wrapped his hands quickly as he walked out of the locker room.

Mitch and Axel sparred for over an hour, neither one could seem to knock the other down long enough to win. It seemed that, though years ago, Hurley’s training had stuck in their minds. Both of their hands were covered in bruises beneath the wraps, only a few punches away from dislocating a knuckle. They panted heavily as they threw punches and kicked at each other with sweat dripping into their eyes. Mitch approached Axel, hoping to win the match with a final punch, but Didier was more experienced and used Mitch’s own momentum against him. He punched Stilinski sharply in the jaw, knocked him onto his back, and held him down with one knee.

“5… 4… 3… 2… 1… I win!” Didier lifted his knee from Mitch’s chest as he stood up.

“You know,” Began Stilinski, “I would normally be mad that you beat me, but I’m so tired right now that I couldn’t care less.”

“Yeah right, Stilinski. I know I hurt your ego.” He held a hand out to Mitch.

Stilinski stood up, “I’m serious, the jet lag, the sparring, and the weird threats… I’m exhausted from all this shit and it’s only day one.”

“You’ll get used to it. Why don’t you tell me more about this new assignment of yours while we do a few miles on the treadmill?”

“Great, running and talking. My two favorite things. I’ll agree to it this once, but only because I don’t have the slightest fucking idea about what to do tomorrow.”

A few rooms down, Genevieve continued obsessively daydreaming about her outing to Paris. She could hardly even remember what stores she used to shop at in the city, let alone how to dress for an event as nice as the one her father was planning. Along the bottom row of the library shelves, there was a handful of fashion magazines, they were all a few seasons old but she figured they would hold up well enough. After all, how much could fashion really change?

Genevieve leafed through the pages, dog-earing the outfits she thought might be appropriate for the occasion. She closed her eyes, letting the sun seep through her eyelids as she pictured herself walking down the long staircase in a shimmering sage dress.

In her mind, the ideal dress would be fuller than full, putting at least two feet between her and everyone else; it was to have a laced corset bodice covered in lilac petals and small beads; and the straps would hang loosely off of her shoulders, brushing her skin ever so slightly. Unfortunately, however, Genevieve knew that it would be impossible to find such a dress on such short notice. She continued flipping through dozens of magazines until dinnertime, jotting down the names of certain shops and designers that were based in Paris, and hoped that one of them might be able to produce a miracle. Soon after, Genevieve’s night came to a close and she drifted off to sleep dreaming about the following day’s adventures.

“Genevieve, my darling, it’s time for you to get up. You’ve got to go into the city to find an outfit. Remember?”

Marcel sat down on Geveieve’s bed, rubbing her shoulder softly. She sat up and rubbed her eyes. At only seven in the morning, the sun had just begun it’s work and shone weakly along the horizon. Its rays reflected off of the curtains and into Genevieve’s eyes, causing her to turn away from the window.

“Yes, I remember.” She sighed with uncertainty, “Papà, I’m not quite sure I’m up for this today. This seems like such a big step to take… for me, and for the new guard.”

Genevieve’s stomach churned and her heart began beating quickly. Suddenly, it felt like the whole world– despite its beauty– had put her into a chokehold. She breathed with shallow gasps, never seeming to get enough oxygen. Her arms grew weak and she laid back down, praying that the horrible feeling would subside.

Her father’s eyebrows furrowed together, “You’ll be okay, my darling. I would never let anything happen to you. I promise.”

Marcel got up and opened Genevieve’s door, calling out for someone to bring a glass of water.

“But what if something did happen? What if…”

Marcel cut her off, “I know you’re anxious. I know, but give it an hour, and then you can decide if you want to go or not.”

His words, while not very helpful, provided some comfort. For some reason, Genevieve had a nasty habit of developing nauseating anxiety in the early morning. It had been happening since she was a child, but as she had not woken up before nine am in many years, she had grown unaccustomed to the feeling. It used to just set her back by a few minutes, only occasionally proving to be a real problem. Now, however, Genevieve felt like she had been hit by a two-ton garbage truck.

The same man who had brought her lunch yesterday walked in with a tall glass of water. He handed it to Genevieve who sipped on it slowly.

“Well, I’ll be in my office if you need anything. I’ll check back in an hour to see how you are. Sebastien, let’s go.” Her father patted her head and walked out, Sebastien closing the door behind them.

Genevieve sat up and leaned against the wall, breathing deeply and naming everything in her vicinity. She saw her bed, her hands, the door, the windows, and the glass of water on her bedside table. Her skin felt the cool fabric of her bed, the cold glass between her palms, the single feather poking out of her pillow, and the wall behind her head. Her ears could pick out the faint sound of voices outside, birds chirping, and the wind blowing. With each inhale, she could smell breakfast being made in the kitchen mixing with the fresh scent of her bedsheets. Taking a sip of water, she noted that she didn’t quite taste anything, but that always seemed to happen when she got to the last step.

During the next fifty-five minutes Genevieve’s breath became more natural and her heartbeat slowed. Still leaning against the wall, she bent over to place the empty water glass on her bedside table, wondering why she held onto it for so long. Her father came in soon after as if he had telepathically sensed her newfound calm.

He sat beside her, taking her hand in his, “So, was I right? Are you feeling better now, Genevieve?”

“Yeah, I guess I do feel better.” She let a small smirk take over her face.

“See, daughter, all you needed was some time. That is our most precious resource. Not our money, not our network, not our assassins… It’s the one we take the most for granted, our time. One day, you’ll see just how little time we really have.” Marcel let go of her hand, “Now, you go on into the city to find something nice to wear.”

Genevieve stood up and ushered her father out. She figured it was time to get dressed since she had already wasted so much time. After changing, she brushed her teeth and rushed downstairs, hoping to make the most of her time. While Genevieve was not necessarily excited to be going shopping, it was an opportunity that she had not been able to experience in a long time.

Her father led her to a car that was waiting out front with Mitch behind the wheel. He tilted his head down by an inch when he noticed her as a sign of respect. Genevieve slid into the back seat quietly, pulling her backpack over her knees. As she looked back towards him, Marcel shut the car door and gave her a soft smile. He patted the side of the car and Mitch slowly drove away, the sounds of gravel crunching beneath the tires. Genevieve turned solemnly towards her home, watching it shrink into the horizon. This outing was a new type of adventure for both herself and Mitch, and neither of them knew what to expect.

#dylan o'brien #Mitch Rapp #mitch stilinski #mitch rapp fanfiction #stiles stilinski #stiles x oc #stiles fanfiction #dylan o'brien fanfiction #teen wolf #American Assassin

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baby-buu-buu · 3 years

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Hello! Feel free to ignore this but would love to hear

Okay been working on this for you, thank you for the ask. I appreciate it 💕 🙏

1. I have published 58, I have 7 drafts for biruwhis week and 3 for Kakavege week. I have maybe less than 10 I’ve never published but have shared on discord? A fair amount for only writing for 2 years I think.

2. Literally speaking the average length of my fics is 3,679.5. I try to keep my one shots/chapters to about 2,000 words just as a general rule of thumb.

3. Favorite troupe to write is angst/fluff. It just always happens 😂

4. I like the way it takes over me. I’ll have an idea and all the sudden I’ve shut off the rest of the world until I finish it. I love that feeling

5. For me honestly it’s the idea. I can come up with this just amazing perfect idea, but actually writing it is hard 😂

6. I don’t like it when people add in depth descriptions for things that aren’t needed. Also over tagging- like when your tags take up the whole page. Oh or not tagging things when they should 😡

7. I’ve started recently writing on my laptop in google docs instead of on my phone and it just feels way different. I like it a lot.

8. No context, here you go. Chi Chi blushed and stammored. Goku watched a felt a strange feeling clawing around in his chest. Vegeta never talked to him that way! He walked in the other room to find the phone. Vegeta was being weird, he was just gonna ask Bulma to tell him why.

9. I have this idea, and I really want to get to it, where Vegeta turns into a kid and it’s basically me redoing GT.

10. My favorite line I have ever written is definitely this from Gone So Long: Krillin laughed loudly, throwing his head back. How much had he had to drink? His face was shining red. “You think Goku is straight?” Krillin laughed some more. Followed up closely by a line from the unfinished sequel: “Oh my god my eyes!” Goku covered his eyes but repeated ‘oh my god’ a few times. Vegeta dragged him through the door and towards the bedroom. That didn’t stop Goku though. “I’ve been violated! Get her out of here. My innocence!”

11. My favorite scene is probably from Oh Well Oh Well when everything just blows up into chaos when Whis is showing everyone how Goku and Vegeta went from mortal enemies to being friends. The Saiyans are howling on the floor with laughter, Goku is crying and begging Vegeta to say they are friends, and Bulma just kinda dances into the middle of the room to announce dinner.

12. My most treasured fic.... hmmm that’s a tough one. I’d say it’s either Gone So Long or When You’re Alone depending on how you look at it. GSL has a huge piece of me in it, but WYA is precious and near and dear to me because of the subject matter and reason I wrote it, to combat against the fics with that content handled incorrectly. (To me.)

13. I don’t know if I have a method per say. I listen to music, sometimes I do research. Otherwise it’s just me writing. I’ll bounce ideas off of people sometimes. Are those things a method? 😂

14. Favorite character in general is Vegeta. Favorite character to write as is Goku.

15. This one is easy, Melancholy Kaleidoscope is definitely my best title. I will never come up with a better one, and that’s okay.

16. Probably Kakavege

17. Teen and Up

18. Heart? 😂 I try to only write things I’m really passionate about, but some of my fics in the beginning definitely lack spark. I would say hopefully in all seriousness all my fics have my style all over them.

19. Probably corny but have fun. Only write stuff you want to, don’t worry if it’s cringe or self indulgent. I recently went through a loss that changed me and took a lot away from me. I do feel strangely that my writing has benefited from it, I don’t have anxiety the same way I used to because I realized it just doesn’t matter.

20. I would say probably my WIP Story of Another us. It showcases my faults and shortcomings as well as my strengths and hopefully unique style and ideas. I’m really pushing to finish it because I genuinely feel like no one else could (or would) write it.

#dragon ball z #dbz #dragon ball super #dragon ball #vegeta #goku #kakavege #ao3 #ask #friends

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sinterblackwell · 3 years

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kaylina’s top ten books of 2020 🖤

update 01/13/21: i stupidly forgot about a book that upended my life and made me fall in love with historical fiction, and so thus,,,everything has changed 😔

what that means is that a few of the original titles listed here have either been moved around or removed; i apologize to myself for the inconvenience. i do recommend reading through a bit of this again if you already read it the first time as i also revised my thoughts on one book mentioned here, so just something.

one of the things i wish for the most in 2021 is that i get to share more about my love for reading, so here’s the first post of many to satisfy that wish.

throughout 2020, i wrote some posts on a complete whim about the stories i was reading and they just kept piling on and on because i was so caught up in the euphoria of having something to turn to when school was dragging me down. i found myself to really enjoy talking about these books while i was on here so i felt it would be a worthwhile conclusion to give a good wrap-up of the top ten books that made 2020 more bearable among all of the bad.

this post is very long so if you’re curious to see what ten books stood out to me this year to make it to this list, you can keep reading in the cut below. it’s all sort of a ranking so it’ll explain why the list is backwards, and i’ll also link more information on the titles in case any of you are interested :’)

first things first, here are three honorable mentions that didn’t quite make the cut but are still important to me one way or another.

3. circe by madeline miller

i have to give thanks to scylla for being one of the main reasons i considered this book as one of my top favorites, a nymph-turned- monster that circe has to face more than once in this story.

also, miller herself building this book upon a figure who was barely considered in the odyssey is like a big slap to all the scholars out there who didn’t consider circe anything else but a jealous madwoman who used sorcery as her vengeance for all the sailors who came across her island.

cheers to the author for having actual critical thinking skills 🥂

2. the invisible life of addie larue by v.e. schwab

i did write a review for this book that i don’t find nearly as coherent as any other review i’ve written in 2020 but here it is if any of you are interested.

the fantastical elements of this story, along with some of the portrayal of certain characters such as luc and those that passed addie by made me fall in love with what v.e. schwab had to offer.

however, i can’t help but think that there’s s a lack of depth regarding minorities in this historical fantasy also set in the modern day. there were bits and pieces of this story that made me pause and feel like something was missing, aspects to it that left something to be desired. thinking back to it now, and after seeing a reviewer’s update on their review of this story, i‘ve come to understand that it could be because i knew this book could’ve been so much stronger if the mc was BIPOC or there were more characters of color who could give their own piece to the story as well.

there’s so much more i can say about it, but that’s a post entirely of its own to be made in future, i hope.

1. the year of the witching by alexis henderson

probably the best reading experience i ever had in 2020. here’s a review that goes into a bit more detail :’)

and here we go!!

10. clown in a cornfield by adam cesare

this book was so fun. i didn’t realize how much of a good time with this story i had until i was thinking about it last night. i mention in my review that i’m not a big horror reader but you can genuinely tell how much the author themself was a big fan of the genre and poured so much of their love into this book. it’s because of that love that i’m grateful for how much i enjoyed this story as a reader who typically is drawn more towards fantasy and contemporary fiction.

i didn’t have much of an attachment to the characters but they did make me laugh and smile despite this being a slasher horror, and because of that, this has become a pretty memorable book for me.

9. sex with shakespeare by jillian keenan

sex, to me, has always felt like a taboo topic, not just because i don’t have experience in it but because it all seems so complicated to me so just talking about it feels like i’m way out of my depth. what made this such an enlightening read for me was seeing how the author was discovering her sexuality through the influence of shakespeare’s works. keenan is very open and considerate of what readers may think going in learning about her fetish but she holds her own when it comes to her personal experience and how much more complicated one’s sexuality really is.

i highly recommend reading this article she wrote for the new york times here for more insight about her sexuality before this book came to be.

in this compelling memoir, the author literally brought shakespeare’s own characters to life and made them feel real, connecting them to her journey throughout her life. this to me, was something i could completely relate to because there are fictional characters i envision in moments of my life where i need them most and seeing the author herself explore that felt so real and imaginative to me.

this book was funny, light-hearted in some parts but incredibly vulnerable overall. i found the insightful analyses she’s made with shakespeare’s works so smart and well-written, i couldn’t give this book anything less than a five-star.

8. blood water paint by joy mccullough

written in verse, this historical fiction took me a while to get through but only because it was just one of those weeks where reading wasn’t that easy for me. once i finally got back into the stick of things, i completely devoured the rest of this story in less than a day.

the main character’s love for art was written with so much vision and spilled out in all these bright colors as depicted on the cover. what i particularly loved about this story were the interludes, little pieces inbetween chapters where the main character reflects on her deceased mother’s stories that were told to her when she was young. these characters that the mother envisioned in her storytelling became a source of light for the main character in her real life, where she then is raped by a popular artist in her village that was a mentor to her for a brief time. the aftermath of this assault culminated into a trial that got quite bloody, particularly involving self-afflicted torture in a matter of dignity.

the title makes sense once we’re in the aftermath of this trial, but how the characters from her mother’s storytelling come to life in the moments when she feels vulnerable are something i was completely enraptured in. this was because it wasn’t just their stories being told, but it was also the main character’s. seeing fiction and reality converge in such a time where women were used and borrowed felt like a vindication of sorts, very telling in how the arts works wonders upon a world that prioritizes logic over matter.

7. everything i never told you by celeste ng

this is a story about a family who’s dealing with the grief of the middle child, who’s assumed to have committed suicide. having the story reflect on each family member before and after lydia’s death, each of them dealing with grief in their own ways, impacted me just the same as how i saw how much they were grieving even before everything was torn down to pieces, all to the point where there was no way to go back. family sagas in literary fiction are always something i find myself to really connect with, and this one was no exception.

i’d also recommend listening to “ven” by cami, if not because you yourself might understand my feelings about this story a bit better then just because it’s a really good song that i discovered as i was reading this book.

6. darius the great is not okay by adib khorram

there’s one particular post i made regarding this story that i’d love to share here. through that post, i share a bit about my connection to darius as our narrator in this first book and then going on to the second book, “darius the great deserves better”, review for that sequel here.

just as darius felt a disconnect to not just his persian side of the family, but also from his entire family as a whole, i felt the same when it came to my dominican heritage. reading his journey throughout this first book in his own voice meant a lot to me then and it means a lot to me now.

seeing him grow and create bonds with characters like sohrab, his depression not being put off to the side but not beholding itself as the center of the story, and then just the persian culture all in itself when darius and his family travel to iran due to personal circumstances--all of it, makes this story something so incredibly special to me.

i learned a lot from this book, and seeing family at the forefront throughout all this was everything.

5. autoboyography by christina lauren

lo and behold my 2020 comfort book of the year + one of my favorite books of all-time. it’s the same feeling i had with “verona comics”, except even stronger because i came into this book thinking it’d be a nice and light read but it was so much more than that.

not only did this story center around two teenage boys in love but it also took into account of the relationships that they both had with other characters in this story. the portrayal of both tanner and sebastian’s families moved me beyond belief, for entirely different reasons, but seeing their story play out along with these two characters made this story hit even harder than i would expect. the location of this story and the significance of that plays such a huge role when it came to how tanner’s bisexuality was represented throughout, and how sebastian’s own grapple with his sexuality affected parts of the story. the author’s note at the end was just about anything i could ever want when it comes to understanding the purpose of one specific story, except i already learned so much from it that reading that note made the characters feel even more real.

may i suggest listening to “someone” by michael schulte because the lyrics of this song and the singer’s voice itself remind me strongly of tanner and sebastian’s relationship? which thus led it to becoming a big comfort song for me? so much so that it was my 2020 song of the year on spotify? no? yes? cool :’)

4. clap when you land by elizabeth acevedo

this was my first acevedo book, “the poet x” being her most popular work, but “clap when you land” for me too important a read that i didn’t want to miss as i was first going into acevedo’s writing. you can say that it’s because of how much this book means to me that it motivated me to read her sophomore novel “with the fire on high” and motivates me to finally read her debut “the poet x”.

i’ve talked to myself a lot about the personal connection i have with this book, but i’ll just say here that the context behind how these two main characters weren’t aware of each other’s existence and what it meant as they were also dealing with the fact that their now-dead father was still there for them despite having them in two different places,,,,,it’s just too monumental for me to put into words here. this author being afro-latina just like me and having written this story about a flight destined to dominican republic that never actually made it, and with so much heart above it all, i connected with it a lot.

as a dominican who feels both connected and disconnected to her heritage, this story breathed so much life into me. i wish you can know just how much.

3. lobizona by romina garber

the fact that i thought everyone would talk about this 2020 release with so much fervor and yet here i am holding the weight of this story with both shoulders,,,,unbelievable. i always feel insecure when it comes to recommending a book because the fact that i thought this one was incredible but not a lot people have talked about it, it makes me wonder why that is.

i really loved this book because as fast of a read as it was, there was so much to take in that you can tell how much effort the author put into it. as a fantasy, it’s connection to our reality is so grounded that it makes you wonder if it actually exists, and the background of our main character raises the stakes of a story like this where one’s identity matters too much to simply be blurred into the background. i loved seeing how there was animosity between these characters that we meet and the main character because despite having ties between each other, that doesn’t ignore how much labels in our society and the connotations that come with it carry its weight. seeing the sacrifices that were made and the discoveries coming at our main character with such a force, there was something so exciting that came from reading this book but it was very solemn overall.

the reason why this story isn’t at the #1 spot is because of technicalities, as i do admit that the ending did feel a bit rushed. but!! it made me more excited to see what’s to come in the second book of this series, “cazadora” (set to release in august 2021) so there we have it.

2. black sun by rebecca roanhorse

inspired by the pre-Columbia Americas, this story and its different narrators enraptured me in each and every page, my love for naranpa and serapio as characters soaring beyond the pages. all these different narrators appeared to have started this story as if they had no ties to each other but really, these web of characters are so interwoven with each other that there’s no telling what their destinies reveal. seeing how naranpa and serapio’s fates were tied together (not romantic, just a note in case i made it seem as such) put me on edge because there was so much political conflict and then here was a prophecy that put so many lives at stake, it was hard to know what could possibly happen. because of this, the ending of this first book in the “between earth and sky” series absolutely bowled me over and i cannot wait to see what could possibly happen next.

let me also just show my appreciation for one of the narrators, xiala, who for some reason made me think for a brief moment that her part in the story was over but really, that could not be further from the truth, i have to believe in that.

here is a review written by one of my favorite book bloggers about this story, listing five reasons as to why reading “black sun” could be an absolutely brilliant reading experience for you. it’s much more detailed and brings so much justice to this story than i ever could so if you’re interested, i highly recommend you check it out.

1. “lovely war” by julie berry

a mythic historical fiction that explored ww1 spanning a circle of characters, including the greek gods themselves—it was bound to catch my attention.

the beginning of this story immediately solidified my interest in the plot, the gods and aphrodite herself regaling the tale of mortals caught in the brink of a war that not only came with death and terror but music and bonds formed under strenuous circumstances.

watching as this journey didn’t exclude the gods themselves and how they were affected in what’s ultimately a love story, but not exclusively a romantic one, made this book become something so close to my heart, i’ll never let it go. i highly recommend.

and we’re done!! thank you to those who’ve read this far, this was actually a lot of work with a lot of links but i hope there’s something that you guys got out of it in the end. i’m really proud that i did this but i’m more proud of myself for having read so much in 2020 to have even been able to make this post.

thank you to all the new characters i met who will stay in my heart forever but most importantly, my thanks go to the authors who worked so incredibly hard to get their books out there, some with debuts and others with a beginning of a new series; you guys have done so much among all the trials of 2020 and i, along with so many other readers, will continue working to get your stories out there this year and the years ahead, that’s for sure.

happy new year to all of you and stay safe, everyone.

#❣️#this is a lot ik but i tried :’)#booklr

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sabraeal · 4 years

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Merry & Bright, Chapter 9

Written for @k-itsmaywriting, who won third place in my 500 follower raffle...two years ago. Listen guys, I have had some REALLY GOOD REASONS for not finishing those yet. Just don’t check.

The thing about being a foster is: everything sucks.

Not that good things don’t happen-- if there’s one thing the system taught him, it’s that life is an endless roller coaster of ups and downs, and you really learn to love the straightaways-- but the scale changes. Other kids would get cars for their birthday, or they’d get to study abroad a semester, but Obi--

Obi had the bedroom catty-corner to bathroom.

For a kid who hadn’t been in a house with less than five kids and more than one full bath for close to a decade, the location had been choice. Prime real estate. The number of mornings he’d lain in wait, never moving from the warm cocoon of his covers until Toddy’s lumbering shuffle scuffled down at the end of the hall, just to dash across and snipe the first shower-- that would be all of them.

But tonight-- god, tonight--

Obi braces his hand against the wall, watching water whirl down the drain. It’s the safest place to look; once glance up and he’ll be contending with the mirror. Not that the mirror is the problem, oh no. It’s what’s in it that’ll make him crack his head on the tile.

His room is catty-corner to the bathroom, which means the second he looks up he sees her.

It’s fine. It’s fine. Doc’s passed out on every bed he’s slept in since he’s known her. There were entire weeks he wasn’t sure she even knew she had her own room in the frat; if they tallied up the nights she spent in her bed versus the ones she spent in his, he suspects his doubts would not be unfounded.

This shouldn’t be any different. It’s just one more place he’s slept, and one more that she’s shared. It’s just Doc, wearing only one of her too-large conference T-shirts, sprawled out on his bed.

And he saw parts of her. Parts he doesn’t usually see. A bare back, a hint of more thigh, the briefest, barest glimpse of a curve of a breast--

He scrubs a hand down his face, stubble rasping against his palm. It shouldn’t be different but it is-- he might be used to her wearing shorts and a tee and baring a mile of leg at home, but seeing it against the unrelenting black of his high school comforter is something else entirely. Like something right out of his weirdest wet dream.

And this isn’t a natural occurrence; an unplanned side effect of her being the size of the Energizer Buddy with a battery life half as long. This is planned. They are choosing to be in bed together. Because he’s too much of a fuck up to have a real girlfriend to bring home, and Doc’s too nice to ruin it for him.

Obi pulls himself upright, dropping his toothbrush back into its holder. He made this bed, and now it’s time to lay in it. Literally.

Doc doesn’t look up when he pads back into the room. Doesn’t jump when he shuts the door behind him. Doesn’t say anything as he wends around the bed, trying to adjust his angle of approach. Just stares up at the ceiling, jaw clenched, brow furrowed.

He flicks off the light, and it’s not until the mattress dips beneath him that he hears her sigh. Not a nice, oh Obi let’s cuddle sigh, but a I’m pissed you haven’t put my clues together, Blue.

“Something wrong?” he ventures, not even bothering to cover himself. If she’s going to kick him out of bed, he’s not going to waste time getting cozy first.

Doc huffs, rolling to face him. “I thought we talked about this.”

He launches himself upright, swinging his legs off the bed. “You’re right. I’ll go find Gayle. I’m sure she can scrounge up another--”

“No!” Her fingers band around his bicep, gentling guiding him back down. She squiggles closer when he’s settled, knees poking into his thigh. “I didn’t mean any of, um, this. I meant with Ryuu.”

He stares at her, blank.

“You know what it’s like when you don’t feel the same as everyone else.” Her hand unlatches, palm running soothingly over his arm. “We don’t know what he likes yet.”

He thinks about the poor kid, about the number for cute skater girls-- and skater boys-- who have bounced right off the impenetrable shell of his hyperfocus. “He probably doesn’t even know what he likes yet.”

“Exactly.” Her knees knock against him, excited. “And we need to leave space for whatever he finds. We need to do better for him than what was done for us.”

He hums, stilling her hand with his. “We are, Doc.”

“Then you shouldn’t tease him about girls when--”

“Doc.” He has to bite his cheek not to laugh. “I know this isn’t really what you’re used to when it comes to the high school experience but--” he can’t help himself, he grins-- “he was not talking about a girl very loudly.”

Her chin drops, right against his arm. “Oh. Oh. Are you--?”

“Please,” he drawls, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. “I’m a connoisseur of not talking about girls and boys. And that...that was not talking about a girl.”

“Huh.” Her head rolls back along his arm, hair tickling his elbow. “Who do you think it is?”

“Oh, now who’s not giving him space?” He squeezes her close, playful. “What happened to waiting until he was ready to talk to us?”

“I’m not asking him.” Her nose nuzzles into his side. “I’m asking you.”

Obi presses a had to his chest, affronted. “You’re asking me to betray a confidence? I’m shocked, utterly shocked.”

“No, I didn’t mean--”

He squeezes her again, letting her words fizzle out before he says, “I’d tell you if I knew, Doc, but I don’t. We’ll just have to pump Kirito for all the juicy goss when we get back.”

“No, no, we don’t need to do that,” she says. “I’ll just text Shidan--”

“Oh, come on,” Obi laughs. “Aren’t you the one who always thinks information is better given than taken or whatever?”

Doc whines, squirming against him in a way that makes him think less about Ryuu’s situation and more about his own. “I just want to know if she’s nice or if she’ll hurt his feelings, or--”

He holds up his hand, stoppering up the flood of anxiety. “Leave it. A boy his age needs some secrets.”

Her eyes shine up at him in the dark, and feels rather than sees her lips cant against his shoulder. “Oh? And what sort of secrets do you have at fifteen?”

Obi stiffens. Not just a quick flinch; oh no, he’s got to full on embarrass himself with a full-body tetanus, teeth gritting down with a clack.

I was fourteen and it was more than kissing.

Doc’s head jolts up, eyes wide. “Oh! Obi, I’m so-- I didn’t even think--”

“It’s fine,” he lies. “I don’t think Ryuu will have any of those.”

He’s made sure he hasn’t. There wasn’t any Orphan Club to look out for him when he was a kid, but Obi will be damned if Ryuu goes through any of the stuff he had to. Sure, he’s not a foster, and yeah, his parents are technically alive, even if they communicate with him solely through his bank balance but still-- that’s not parenting. If he can’t count the number of times they’ve called Shidan to make sure he isn’t some child-murdering pedophile, it’s because it’s impossible to count lower than zero.

Silence stretches over them, thick and itchy as wool blanket. This is the worst part of having a tragic childhood. Sure, all the shit that happened to him as a kid was, well, shitty, but it’s in the past, something he can stuff in his mental closet-- even if that psych in Wistal frowned when he mentioned it-- and forget about until it surfaces uncontrollably at the worst fucking time. But this, this--

It’s worse. Having people who love him and respect him suddenly pull away like he’s made of glass, like he’ll break if they so much as breathe on him-- it sucks. Whoever wrote fear is the mind killer never had a sucky enough childhood to cause an awkward silence, and it showed.

Obi nearly jumps out of his skin when an arm slaps across him, followed by at least half of Doc’s body weight. A leg hooks around his, tugging her flush against his side.

“I know.” The words are muffled by his chest. “He has us.”

The quiet takes on a different texture now. It’s not the sound of not knowing what to say, but of nothing more needing saying; the subtle satisfaction of knowing and being know in return. It’s comfortable, warm, like the way her body relaxes into his, the safest space he’s ever known.

Obi’s nearly asleep when she tenses, when she asks, “What happened to Shannon?”

It was a mistake to leave her alone with Kelly Ann. His mind is a steel trap, but the timeline of his sexual history was what Yuzuri would deem a hot mess. Most of it wasn’t performed fully sober either. But Kelly Ann...

Kelly Ann never forgets a single fuck up. Probably takes them out and shines them every once and a while with a smile on her face.

His brain races through his list of high school flings but comes up short. “Shannon?”

“Her picture is up on the mantle,” she murmurs softly, almost shy. “Laila said she was an-- an angel.”

His heart plummets into his stomach. File this under ‘things he should have explained before they left.’ “Oh, Shannon.”

It’s an effort to lie still, to just breathe. “She’s Bob and Gayle’s daughter.”

“I got that.” Doc nuzzles her head into his shoulder, kneading at his pecs like they’re particularly stubborn pillows. “She died.”

His breath sighs out of him. “Yeah, a long time ago. Before either of us were born.”

That’s not enough information, not to survive Christmas, but he can’t shake the feeling that this isn’t his story to tell. He’s a few years and a heap of paperwork short on being enough of one of them to talk about it. Still, short of just telling Doc to ask around, he’s the only one who can.

“She had...I don’t know, some lung disease.” He’d shrug his shoulders if she wasn’t using them as a pillow. He settles for squeezing her instead, enjoying the steady tap of her heart against his ribs. “No one really talks about it, but I guess it was long and slow. She was a teenager when she died.”

Doc lays silent for a long moment. “There wasn’t anything...?”

“It was the eighties,” he explains, “and from what I’ve picked up, the life expectancy today isn’t much brighter. Like...twenties or something.”

“Gosh, that’s...awful.” Her nails scrape over his chest, tucking into her palm. “But she was their-- there weren’t any, um....?

“She was born with it.” He can’t imagine that, knowing from the start there was nothing to do but wait, that you’d have only a handful of years before they’d be gone. “They said it’d be a miracle if she lived to see twenty. Gayle gave up her job to take care of her, you know, doing the medical stuff she needed to stay alive. They just...wanted as much time with her as they could get, and any other kid born into that, well...”

“It wouldn’t be fair,” she says, pained. “How could you explain to another child that you weren’t playing favorites, but that their sister was going to--” she shakes her head, and something wet settles on his skin-- “I get it.”

He wishes there was an easy way to make things better, a way to wrap this whole awkward shit sundae up with a bow or whatever, but...there isn’t. There’s no heartwarming but she’s the reason they saved me, because he up and bolted before they could. He’s got a big fucker of a scar across his chest to prove that all their goodness never changed him, at least not enough to matter.

“What about Lori?” Doc asks, because tonight’s the night for picking at scabs, it seems. “Laila called her an angel too.”

“That was their first foster.” He only barely knows this story, told to him by Kelly Ann almost a decade ago in the hushest of tones, and only to inform him how bad he fucked up. “She was Shannon’s roommate I guess, toward the, um...end. Mom died of some cancer and she became a ward of the state, and Bob and Gayle...”

“Did what they did best,” she offers, so sincere it hurts.

“Yeah.” His throat aches. “That.”

Her fingers slip between his. He thinks she might say something, might ask for more history he hardly knows and doesn’t own, but instead she squeezes his hand, stilling against him, breath easing into a lull.

“Goodnight, Obi,” she murmurs, sleep thick in her voice.

“Yeah,” he sighs. “Goodnight.”

It’s not the first time Shirayuki’s awoken with a shiver, a warm breath tickling her neck and something far lower poking into her back. But it is the first time since-- since that night, and what had seemed so innocent, just a healthy reaction to sleep and proximity to a warm body, feels very different now.

His mouth lays slack against her skin, breath puffing hotly across the sensitive hairs of her nape. The heat there is only rivaled by the one trembling beneath the palm on her belly, a slow roil that sets her blood to a tantalizing simmer. They hadn’t fallen asleep like this-- she’s been so careful to arrange herself so she’d do little move than roll into the levee of his chest-- but somehow she’s the little spoon again, and, by the feel of it, someone’s ready to fork.

He grunts, hips shifting and hand tucking her close. What had been a mere hint through dress slacks in a hallway is now-- haah-- a full investigation against her back. And it’s, ah, definitely not a small one. Many, many lines of inquiry.

Shirayuki groans, burying her face in the pillow. It’s her. She’s the one ready to fork. And Obi’s just--

“I hope we’re all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed this morning.” Gayle sweeps into the room, ruthlessly flicking on the light. “Got a whole lot to do and not a lot of time to do it in.”

Obi jolts, the whole length of his erection pressing hard against her ass, she-- she yelps. Just a little.

“Five more minutes,” he groans, hand flexing against her stomach, fingers brushing down to where her T-shirt has ridden up and--

And he stills, like he’s been caught snatching snickerdoodles off the tray.

“None of that business, mister.” Gayle bustles in, pulling on one of his shades until it snaps up, perfectly hung in the window. “If I let you alone now, all I’ll get is the same trouble when I come back.”

“R-really.” He’s definitely more awake, but his voice cracks. “Just-- a minute. I’ll, um, get right up.”

He wriggles behind her, like he can’t decide whether it’s safer to edge away or hide in her, and she realizes-- he’s hard. He’s hard, and his mom is right there, squinting down at him like she’s trying to pick the lock on his diary.

Shirayuki reaches back, palm resting on his hip, and he stills. “Don’t worry, Gayle,” she chirps brightly, “I know how to get him up.”

Gayle turns to her, eyes wide, and Obi’s forehead bonks into her shoulder. “Oh, honey,” she says, grin lighting up her face. “I just bet you do.”

Obi honks like a dying goose into her shoulder blade. “She didn’t mean--”

“Breakfast should be up in fifteen minutes.” Gayle approaches the hall with a buoyant step. “I won’t send up a search party if you’re late.”

With a wink, she shuts the door firmly. Obi flops onto his back with a groan.

“What?” She blinks. “Do you really need five more minutes?”

His head rolls toward her, eyes fixed on her with a sullen glare. “You know how to get me up, huh?”

“Wh--oh,” she yelps, clapping her hands over her mouth. “I didn’t-- you don’t think she--?”

“Oh, she definitely did.” He rolls over, face-first into his pillow.

Shirayuki blinks. “Aren’t you going to get up?”

“Uh-uh,” he murmurs, hugging his pillow tight. “If she thinks we’re having the world’s best good morning, I have at least twenty minutes to spare.”

“Come on now, keep up,” Gayle chides, hounding their heels into Harris Teeter the way corgis do to toddlers. “We’ve got a late start--” she eyes them both with an expression that couldn’t be mistaken for anything but smug-- “but I think we can still come out on top.”

“It’s six am,” Shirayuki murmurs, leaning into Obi. “Does she know it’s six am?”

“Oh, she definitely does,” he confirms with the tiredest dog-eyed look he can muster this early. “We’re running on Christmas Time.”

Her jaw hangs slack, turning into a yawn. “Christmas time?”

“We need to make cookies,” Gayle informs her, abandoning the carriage for a deep dive into the sprinkle section.

“Oh.” Shirayuki stares after her, lost. “I didn’t realize this was serious.”

“Cookies are very serious business,” Obi confirms, heaving a sigh as Gayle holds two frosting tins up to the light. “I don’t know who she thinks she’s fooling. She’s just going to make her own. Here--” he reaches in front of her, hooking his hand around the flashy red handle-- “let me grab the buggy--”

“The what?”

He blinks, eyes as clear as amber. “The cart?”

“That’s not what you said,” she insists. “You said-- what did you call it--?”

“Same difference.”

“It is not.”

“It’s a regional thing.” He shrugs, shoulders hovering up around his ears. He’s not an blusher, but she could swear she sees some pink lingering at the tips of his ears. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I wouldn’t,” she informs him primly. “Except we’ve been going to the store for years now, and I’ve never heard you say that word in your life--”

An unbelievable amount of sprinkles clatters into the cart. “Well,” Gayle says, mouth wide. “That should be enough for the cookies.”

Obi frowns, picking up a thirty ounce jar of nonpareils. “Enough for an army of them.”

Shirayuki grins, poking him until he squeaks. “So just about enough to fill one of your stomachs.”

“Hey.” He presses a hand to his chest, lifting his chin regally. “It would be at least one and a half.”

Gayle huffs out a laugh. “You two are going to make such cute kids. Look at you, just flirting right in the middle of Baking Needs.”

Shirayuki flushes red hot, hem to hairline. “No! We’re not--”

“C’mon then.” Gayle turns on her heel, heading to the back of the store. “We’ll have to get enough for dinner too. Gonna need it after all that cookie making.”

Shirayuki glances down into the cart. “There’s more people coming, right?” she murmurs, only just holding back a helpless whine. “We’re not just making...all of these ourselves.”

“Don’t worry, Doc.” He slings an arm around her shoulders, side pressing warmly into hers. “I’ll help you.”

“Mm,” she hums, dubious. “Eat them, maybe.”

“There won’t be none of that,” Gayle calls back, inspecting a package of ground beef. “Bob need your help downstairs.”

“Aw, no,” Obi groans, shoulders slumping. “Not--”

“You bet your buttons, mister.” She drops a pair of four-pounders right into the cart. “It’s time to put up the Christmas Village.”

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itmighthavebeenintentional · 4 years

Text

Shackled - Ch 12

Summary: After nearly ten years, Sam Winchester calls Miriam Bard to collect on a life debt. Unfortunately for Miriam, Sam leaves out a few important details.

WARNINGS CHANGE EACH CHAPTER, PLEASE CHECK EACH TIME.

Warning: implied loss of family, grieving, depression, cursing, mention of emotional manipulation/mind fuckery/psychological manipulation, emotional exhaustion, depression

Word Count: 2945

Author’s Note: You made it this far; thanks for sticking with me! I can’t tell you how lovely everyone has been throughout posting this story. I’m going to hopefully start posting my next story “Walk Me Home” sometime within the next week, so if you’d like a tag, let me know. I’ll be posting the preview again tonight. Thank you all for lovely words and flailing, and here’s hoping I’ll see you again at the next story.

Thanks to @fangirlxwritesx67 for all the flailing. It means so much to me, I don’t have enough or proper words. @cracksinthewalls , you kept me going, you kept this story going. Like. Babe. Seriously. @thoughtslikeaminefield , I would have no Dean stories without you, probably would not have even entered the fandom without you. This story was first and foremost for you, and it’s only right the last thanks on it be for you.

I love you all.

Please read/heed the warnings. 18+ ONLY.

In case you missed it:

Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | Ch 6 | Ch 7 | Ch 8 | Ch 9 | Ch 10 | Ch 11

Masterlist

Chapter 12

Miriam swam back to consciousness as gentle fingers probed her face. The pain flared once, a bright flame that consumed every cell of her body before extinguishing all at once. She gasped, her lungs unrestricted and easy, and grabbed at the closest thing she could reach. Her wrists were whole again, functional, and she sat bolt upright, her eyes wide and wild as fear shot through her gut. Strong arms, for some reason clad in a tan trench coat, supported her as her head swam crazily.

“Miriam, I presume. I’ve got you, everything’s alright now. Dean is cured. You’re safe.” She looked into his eyes and saw the sincerity and strength there. She nodded slowly, willing her heart rate to calm. She took slow, measured breaths until the spinning stopped.

“Miriam!” Then Sam was in the doorway, rushing over to help her up, Dean following closely behind. What with Sam and the other man already pulling Miriam to her feet, Dean stood a safe distance away, unsure of his reception.

Miriam thought this wise of him.

She wobbled unsteadily long enough that Sam insisted on taking her back to her room to rest. She was too wiped out to argue and gladly accepted his support. She glanced back at Dean as Sam led her from the room, and she was startled at the depth of sorrow and pain she saw there.

Then she turned the corner with Sam and realized the pull she felt from Dean, that insatiable hunger for the darkness, was almost completely gone.

Almost.

…

Miriam lay on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, resolutely ignoring Sam’s instructions to sleep. Though she doubted she’d have any new visits from the demon, she could feel her other nightmares waiting at the edge of her consciousness, with a few new additions from her recent misadventures with the Winchesters to add a little spice to the mix.

A soft knock on her door pulled her out of her miserable reverie, and she sat up slowly. She wasn’t in pain, the angel (Castiel, Sam had explained) had healed her completely, but she was unsteady with exhaustion and shock.

“Come in, Dean,”

He entered hesitantly, still unsure of his welcome. He’d showered, shaved, and changed into a t-shirt, sweats, and a gray bathrobe. She had to admit he looked a lot better for it. Considering how appealing she thought he’d looked before, that was saying something.

They studied each other for a long moment, seeing each other as they really were for the first time in nearly a decade. Dean still stood tall and firm, wearing his “comfy clothes” better than most models wore a suit, but she could see the weight of the world dragging at his shoulders, staining his expression with grief and regret.

But there was less ferocity to him now. He’d lost the feral hunger, the malevolence of his earlier presence that had drawn her in so strongly. She’d never call Dean Winchester soft, not in a thousand years, but this Dean, the real human Dean, was appealing to her in a way she hadn’t expected. Despite everything that had happened, he still exuded a sense of strength and confidence that had little to do with his appearance and more to do with a natural gravity that spoke of protection and safety rather than danger and oblivion.

Then again, she thought, maybe I can just see the light on the other side of the darkness now. Maybe that said something good for the both of them.

But it hurt, looking into that light. Looking away from the darkness without shielding herself meant admitting that life without Aaron wasn’t just possible, that it was necessary.

She’d taken care of him for so long, leaned on him without realizing she was doing so. Now her universe was off-balance in the worst way, vertigo without promise of reprieve. Every day felt like freefall, and she hated that swooping sensation that tore through her gut whenever she opened her eyes and realized he wasn’t just one bed over.

But he was gone. And she wasn’t.

And now she had to decide what she was going to do with those facts, because she couldn’t continue her dim, half-existence anymore, no matter how much easier it was than facing an Aaron-less life.

And right now, in this moment, that meant addressing her own personal ex-demon.

Miriam offered him a half-smile and indicated the chair by her bedside. He wavered, his jaw working as his frown deepened, but she let him have his internal debate without interruption. After a moment, he made up his mind and sat heavily in the chair, elbows resting on the arms, hands dangling over his lap. He glared down at his socked feet as if angry they weren’t supplying him with the right conversation starter.

“How are you feeling?”

He started at her question and turned incredulous eyes on her, mouth gaping.

“How am I feeling? I nearly killed you, and you’re worried about...Miriam, god, I...I…”

“I know,” she said. He dropped his face into his palms, fingers digging hard into his forehead. His hands strained, veins standing out starkly under his skin, and her heart broke for him.

Dean was a good hunter, a good brother, a good man. He’d been seized by a literal demon, and if anyone besides possession victims could understand that, maybe even forgive it, it was Miriam. And, miracle of miracles, for once she knew the right thing to do.

She arranged her pillow behind her and reclined. Then she lifted the covers, opened her arms, and cleared her throat.

“Come here.”

He looked up at her with red, confused eyes. He straightened up and opened his mouth, and she knew he was about to refuse, say something manly or defensive, or both. She beat him to the punch.

“We are both done, Dean. I’ve got nothing left. I hurt you, you hurt me, we both did horrible things. Now is not the time to make comparison lists of sins. We’ve got tomorrow to tear ourselves new ones. Answer me one question right now, and you’d damned well better tell me the truth.”

He nodded slowly, watching her with wary eyes.

“Aren’t you tired, Dean?”

He stared hard at her, waiting for something else, maybe a rebuke or an insult, but when he realized she was finished, he sat for a moment, thinking. Then his shoulders slumped, and he scrubbed his fingers through his hair.

“Exhausted,” he finally answered.

She nodded.

“Then take your damned robe off and get over here. And keep your hands where I can see them, sir.”

Turns out, Dean Winchester wasn’t too bad at following directions, once properly motivated.

Dean fit into her shoulder with the perfection of a worn-out child cradled in trusted arms. As his face relaxed, Miriam thought she saw the briefest glimpse of that sweet, carefree little boy in his smiling mother’s arms.

Something tugged loose in her chest, and she knew then she’d done the right thing by coming here, no matter the damage she’d sustained. She glanced across the room to see Aaron staring back from the mirror. A tiny smile lifted the corner of his mouth.

“I love you,” she said. She meant so much more, and she knew Aaron understood that.

Dean shifted in her arms, murmuring something on the edge of dozing, and his frown returned. She moved automatically to smooth her thumb over his furrowed brow, massage the anxious crease that had formed between his eyes. Still drowsing, he nuzzled closer, his freshly shaven cheek sliding over her collarbone. Unable to resist, she pressed her nose to the crown of his head, inhaling softly.

Miriam had done a few hunting jobs in the Northwest, near the coast, and she’d fallen in love with the forests there. Unbelievably tall trees, disappearing upwards until you almost fell over backwards trying to see the tops. Damp and lush, there was a green, mossy smell that hung in the air and mingled with traces of fresh earth and mist.

Dean smelled as if he’d just stepped out from under those trees. Clean, a hint of cedar, and something warm and spicy. She hesitated, a new kind of want blooming in her chest as she held him close, reveling in his solid heat. She pressed a kiss to his temple and smiled when he curled tighter into her embrace.

“Hands where I can see ‘em, missy,” he murmured, eyes still closed. His arm slid under hers until it curled protectively around her back. “Sleep, Miri. I’ve got you.”

She took a deep breath, and settled into the exhale, resting her cheek against his damp hair.

Yeah, she thought, a welcome lethargy spreading through her thoughts. You do.

…

“Sure you don’t want to rest another day or two?” Sam asked. She didn’t have to look up from her packing to know his face was lined with concern. Dean leaned in the doorway, arms crossed, pretending he didn’t want to say the exact same thing.

“Sorry, Sam, another day of rabbit food, and I might starve. Gotta get some meat before I waste away. Dean, you’re welcome to come with if you aren’t worried about ruining your girlish figure.”

Dean barked a laugh from the doorway, and Miriam straightened up in time to see him wipe the smile off his face under the heat of Sam’s stern glare. She grinned, and Dean winked.

“Gonna go pull your car around. Meet you out front?” Without waiting for an answer, Dean straightened and nodded, disappearing from view.

“You really could stay a little longer,” Sam repeated, his voice low and earnest. For the first time since she’d met him, he seemed small, diminished by worry and uncertainty. Dark circles stood out starkly under his eyes, and his entreating smile was probably the weakest she’d ever seen it.

“Sam, I-” she paused, hesitating, then closed the space between them, reached up, and pulled him into a full hug. After a moment, Sam’s good arm wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her tight against his chest as his head bent down, his nose resting on top of her head. She held him close, waiting for Sam to pull away when he was ready.

“I can’t,” she murmured into his hair. “Not right now. It’s too fresh. I need to...deal with it. Actually deal with it,” she added as he leaned back far enough to give her a sharp look. She noticed he didn’t pull completely away from their embrace, though.

“I’m going to figure some things out, I promise. Again, you strong, heroic men didn’t magically fix my issues. But maybe you gave me the push I needed to do that for myself.”

“You’re welcome back here anytime,” Sam said. He pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead and stepped back, releasing her. He gazed down at her face for a moment, and she could see he was choosing his next words carefully.

“I’m glad you’re going to...deal with it. I get what you’re working through. Not that I’m a paragon of mental health, but I’ve been there. A couple of times. If you ever want or need to talk about everything that happened, about anything at all, you can call me.”

Miriam felt a mischievous smile stretching across her face. “Everything? Well, Sam, when you were gone, there was this one thing that Dean did in one of my nightmares that-”

“Not everything!” Sam yelped, and she laughed, feeling the ever-present knot in her chest loosen just a little more. He chuckled, shaking his head, and squeezed her hand.

“Don’t lose my number, Miriam. I’ve...We’ve got your back.”

…

“Sure you don’t want to stay for another round of Sam’s ‘queen-wah’ salad?” Dean smirked. His green eyes sparkled in the sunlight, and she was surprised at the pleasurable twinge she felt upon receiving that smile.

“Get your ass off my car, Winchester,” she ordered, feigning exasperation. He pushed up from the hood and opened the back door, lifting the duffel from her hands and tossing it in the back seat.

“Where ya headed?” Dean asked, sticking his hands in his pockets and rocking back on his heels. He stared at the ground between them, and she couldn’t help but smile. After all they’d been through, even after chastely sharing a bed for the last three nights, she felt awkward around him, too, though both were too stubborn to admit it aloud.

“Maybe Washington state or Oregon, check out some of the rainforests. The couple of times we had jobs over that way, walking around under all those giant trees made my issues seem pretty small. Could help me put some things in perspective. Anyway, I’ve got some time off saved up. I think I’ve earned a real vacation.”

He finally met her eyes, and the corner of his mouth turned up. He took a step closer.

“Yeah? Sounds pretty...majestic.” He dodged her blow easily, grinning. “I’m kidding. Some time off sounds pretty damn good, come to think of it. Don’t really remember what that’s like. It’s one disaster after another around here.”

“I kinda got that feeling,” Miriam said, pushing the back door shut. She stepped up to him, holding her arms open in invitation. Though he still hesitated, in the end, he relented and allowed her to pull him into a close hug that sent little flutters through her stomach. Just as she started to pull back, Dean’s arms tightened, holding her against his chest.

“We both need to take some time,” she said quietly. He nodded, turning his face inwards, pressing his lips to her temple. “We’ve got a lot of baggage to sort through and shit to deal with and other metaphors about mentally healing. Darkness to yank out by the roots and all that.”

He pulled back, his face drawn with concern. “Miriam, I need you to know. Those dreams you had, I didn’t...I could see them all whenever you came inside the trap.” His complexion darkened, and if she didn’t know better, Miriam would have thought Dean was actually blushing.

“But I didn’t send them to you. When you were outside the dungeon, outside the devil’s trap, I couldn’t do that.”

She nodded slowly, feeling some of the sunlight's warmth leeching away. She’d come to that conclusion herself, after listening to some conversations over the last couple of days between the boys and their guardian angel.

“I know. And that’s something I’m going to have to work through. There’s darkness in me, and it really, really liked the darkness I found in you.”

They both glanced significantly down at his right arm, their eyes drawn to the dark, ugly mark, before looking up again.

“I just...wanted it to be easy, like you, the demon you, said. I was, I am so tired, and I just wanted to be done.” She could say the words now, as she couldn’t say them only days ago.

Such a simple thing to say, she thought, and I had to nearly die to admit it.

“Awfully strong drug for any hunter,” Dean agreed, and though she hated that he knew the feeling well enough to understand, part of her was not-so-secretly glad that for the first time in months, she no longer felt alone in her pain.

“But I can work through it. And I think you can, too. I have no clue how, for either of us, but I’m willing to work on it if you are.”

He nodded slowly, and his eyes flicked to her lips for just a moment before his eyebrows raised questioningly. He looked ready to be rejected, braced for her dismissal, but for the life of her, she couldn’t think of a single decent reason to do so.

This time, the only pull she felt was Dean’s arms drawing her closer.

The kiss was soft, simple, and sweet. His hands, scarred and so gentle, slid over her jaw, threading into her hair. He tilted her face to the side, finding a better angle for both of them, and her hands found their way to his waist, tugging him further into her space. After a moment, they broke apart. Dean’s eyes were still closed as she stretched up to kiss his forehead.

“We can work on that, too,” Miriam said. Dean licked his lips, swallowed, and nodded as he straightened. They released their hold on each other reluctantly, and Miriam slid into the driver’s seat before she did something irrational like change her mind.

She cranked the car, stared out the windshield, and sighed. She had to go, needed some time and space to work through her thankfully no-longer-literal demons, but…

She really wanted to come back.

“Hey, Dean,” she said suddenly. He dropped a hand to the hood of her car, leaning down so he could see her through the open window. “You like cowboy movies?”

“Yeah, why?”

“You ever seen The Quick and the Dead?”

His face transformed from sad to wondering to glee in less than a second. “Wild West shootout, Sharon Stone at her hottest, Gene Hackman at his bad ass-est?”

Miriam giggled. “That’s not a word, but yeah. Got a copy?”

“No, but I can get one.”

She smiled, feeling warm and light down to her toes. “Give me a month or two, try to take some time off yourself. Call me when you’ve got a copy of the movie, and maybe we can have a movie night. I’ll bring the popcorn.”

The warmth of the kiss he brushed across her cheek lingered for hours.

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foxghost · 3 years

Text

This/last week’s read: Po Yun, Breaking Through the Clouds 1 & 2

All 1.6 million words. Po Yun (Breaking Through the Clouds) and Po Yun 2 (Swallowing the sea), by Huai Shang (817k) On jjwxc. I started reading them because I missed SCI, but Po Yun is a much more serious book with serious plot twists and no hypnosis/split personalities/genetic modification magic. Oh, and more whump. I mean these characters are basically hurt all the time. Constantly. A bonus: all your main characters are in their 30’s.

There’s a summary on novelupdates, but I’m going to give you an alternative summary:

International drug-trafficker King of Spades and the Gongzhou Police Organised Crime/drug trafficking division chief Jiang Ting were once childhood friends and are now caught in a game of cops and robbers cat and mouse and their love story ends in inevitable BE …

Okay, it’s not that, go get the actual summary from NU that ends in a nobody (bad) dies HE ending between Jiang Ting and Yan Xie.

(Rambling that is as spoiler-free as possible after cut, but to summarise, I’d give Po Yun 1 a 7/10 and Po Yun 2 a 10/10 recommended with some caveats for plot holes and warning for graphic descriptions of violence and gore)

Po Yun1: If this book was actually about the first story, 10/10, a very well-told tragedy that ends in a near perfect circle. As is, I’m not sure how to feel because it just felt so much like it should end in 雙愛雙殺 / “mutual love, mutual killing”, that even though it has told me it’s HE since the beginning it doesn’t feel right. Despite Jiang Ting’s insistence that he never loved SpadesK, he did … in the before times, and considering how much he hated him afterwards, he loved him a lot. I think most what made this book less enjoyable for me though is Yan Xie, who is basically your definition of male chauvinist (his nickname in the book is literally “straight man cancer”), and he touched the one squick I have … terrible personal hygiene.

Point form entirely unorganised thoughts (吐槽) :V below, mostly of my very twisted opinion, you’ve been warned

Every time I heard about Yan Xie’s “male hormones” smell I gagged a little because I’m pretty sure he stinks

No, wait, I don’t have to be pretty sure. The first time he lent his jacket to Jiang Ting he had to cover his nose and ask “when was the last time you did the laundry”

also, “wash your feet first thing when you get home or I really will avoid you” omg

Yan Xie: do I look like i have time to change my clothes <- in 3 days

why do you even like him the only thing good about him is that he loves you a lot

most of the words that come out of his mouth (especially towards women) are toxic and just THE WORST

Literally no woman in the novel is surprised that he’s tall, handsome, rich, and is single in his 30’s

his mother: now that he’s this age all I ask is that he chooses someone younger than me

anyway that’s enough about Yan Xie I just had to tell someone after Jiang Ting (whom I love) chose to end up with makes face and points THAT

Meanwhile, the King of Spades is basically a more twisted Asami Ryuichi and how can I not love that fictionally

the king of spades gets a theme song (Young and Beautiful) and childhood episode with MC

Excuse me I have feels about the villain and the MC/villain ship way more than the canon ship orz

Half the plot is about antag trying to turn back time emotionally to see if things between Jiang Ting and himself could have turned out in any way differently

“all i wanted in his life was for you to kill me and then we die together” trope

He is well-dressed, cultured, polite, and utterly off his rocker, kills without blinking, but you know something

He leaves the torturing to Jiang Ting because he’s … probably better at it

Jiang Ting will pull off your fingernails and give you the death of 3000 cuts without batting an eyelash

I love Jiang Ting a regular amount

as mentions of Yan Xie’s lack of hygiene grew less frequent I admit he grew on me (and I guess I want a happy ending for Jiang Ting since he’s suffered enough) but only right up until Yan Xie SPEAKS AGAIN

on the mystery/drama/cases front, it’s good …

too much of the plotting of how convoluted the crimes are hinged on “antag is crazy you can’t explain the motivation of the crazy”

There are plenty of surprises, lots of side characters to get attached to, and come to think of it it’s the kind of happy ending that’s really 地道, nobody (on the good guy side) dies.

Onto Po Yun 2:

MC (Wu Yu) is a contradiction of a killer cinnamon bun (do we still say that? why don’t we still say that?) anyway he can go from polite and sweet and courteous and shy about speaking in public to killer hawk jumping out of the 8th floor window using obstacles to slow his descent to stab target in the throat in 5 seconds flat

Code name “The Painter”, as in “Painted Skin”, cross-border master undercover cop, but he’s pretty to the point of standing out (this is used as a plot point later)

ML (Bu Chonghua, everytime I see his name 蔥花 “chopped green onions” floats across my brain) seems pretty normal at first glance, but he’s “living for vengeance”

MC and ML have childhood background story while MC and villain does not (thank you)

the cases are all related, and they make sense for the most part

MC’s backstory and the final reveal is a bit of a stretch and the writer knows it (and apologises)

But overall, very well plotted cases that takes its time unwinding and doesn’t get explained all at once.

however, some tropes recycled wholesale from book 1 meant that they did not fool me for a single second.

WHUMP and lots of hurt, not so much comfort. These people are wounded so often they really shouldn’t be walking around

I literally can’t tell you anything without giving half the story away, so I won’t — I’m just going to say “read it you won’t regret it”

2 is a better book than 1. Both use the same kind of ship dynamic — MC is evasive and hiding something, ML is full of love but know not to trust entirely because MC is evasive, eventually MC come to realise that “even if I’m evil this man will love me anyway” and then happily ever after. Whether the resulting relationship is healthy is … up for debate, but I’m here for all the car chases / explosions / jumping off buildings / dealing with life and death situations / nearly dying every chapter or two. Come for excitement, nobody dies, and happy wedding endings … ignore the plot holes and inconsistencies.

If Huai Shnag writes a third installment — likely, some ppl are left alive for reasons — I will drop all the points on them. This was totally worth my time. If you buy the jjwxc version, go hunt down the uncensored chapters, there is one smut scene each that got cut.

#fox reads #fox reads po yun

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ivegotthefanficinme · 4 years

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Freedom Part 9 Mandalorian X Reader

Summary: An escaped slave owned by the Hutt clan, with the knowledge of dark clan secrets. A bounty is set and the best hunter in the parsec is hired, The Mandalorian. Two vastly different paths cross. Both are scarred physically and mentally by their past. Can they ever truly be free? *SLOW BURN*

Warnings: Blood, Mentions of slavery, PTSD, Rape implications, FLUFF, Language, violence

Word Count: 3.7k

Parts: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9 (You are here), Part 10

EXTRA WARNING/ A/N: This chapter is bloody and violent. Also, I apologize in advance for what I’m about to do...

The Mandalorian was numb when he woke up. He was unable to decide if it was the cold, pain overload, or the fear and heartbreak that caused the numbness.

He laid there in the cold snow a few minutes more, staring up at the gray sky above him, thinking about you. About how he failed you. About how he had managed to break every promise he had ever made to you in one day.

He finally decided that if he didn't get up he would freeze to death, and that was definitely not what the child needed.

“Shit, the kid,” he groans.

He manages to get to his feet, limping stiffly back to the ship.

The pain in his chest hasn’t gone away…. In fact, that was the only pain he felt right now. He quickly realized that this was not pain that bacta could help with.

He closes up the ship, warmth starting to seep back into his bones.

Once he has regained feeling in his hands, he pulls the child out of the small hiding space, a false compartment in the floor of the cockpit. It coos expectantly, looking around the room with its big eyes. Looking for you.

Din sighs, suddenly feeling suffocated by his helmet. He tears it off, looking down at the small creature.

It’s sad eyes stare back up at him, as if asking, “Where is she?”

Din looks away from the child, “Your momma isn’t going to be back for a while.”

The child seems to understand as it lets out a sad whimper.

“I know buddy, I know.”

Din can feel his own heartbreaking in his chest, a stabbing, aching pain. He doesn’t know what to do with this type of pain. The pain he hasn’t felt since he lost his parents as a child.

He holds the child up against him, feeling his own tears slip past his lashes.

Looking down at the child, he sighs, “I have to find her.” He rises to his feet, setting the child down in the co-pilot's seat. He places his helmet back on and takes his own seat, preparing the ship to take off.

***

“Are you insane?”

He shrugs, “Maybe I am, but I have to try.”

“You’ve gone soft Mando!” Cara Dune laughs.

The cantina on Navarro had been put back together quite nicely, especially after the literal firefight it went through.

“Look, I just need you to look after the kid while I go find her. This is something that I have to do, by myself. It’s too dangerous to bring him along.”

“Mando…” Cara sighs.

“I just need you to do this… please,” Din whispers.

Cara glances over at the child sleeping in its white pram.

“Tell me about her.”

Din hesitates, “She’s… She’s unlike any being I have ever met before. She loves that kid and is willing to sacrifice herself and the rest of the universe for him. She was… is a Hutt slave. So she is just as messed up as me.”

“Is she pretty?” Cara asks.

Din’s eyes glaze over underneath his helmet as he pictures your face in his mind.

“The most beautiful thing I have ever seen.”

Cara suddenly stands, nearly shoving his chair backwards as she pushes his shoulders back.

“Then what are you waiting for? Go find her, womp rat will be safe with me.”

“Thank you,” he breathes.

***

It had been a week since you had been taken, and Din was starting to lose it.

He stopped at every planet, asking about Limax Hutt. Every time, it got him into a blaster battle. He would walk away with a sliver more of knowledge and bloody carnage left behind him.

Finally, on the tenth planet, he got the location of Limax Hutt. On a far outer rim planet, Tayips. The whole flight there he was jittery, nervous.

If he didn’t do this carefully, and quickly, he knew that you would either be dead before he got there or die in the escape. He wasn’t willing to risk either scenario.

When he arrived on Tayips it had been several weeks, he was worried that he was too late. In his efforts to disguise himself, he removed his newer armor, trading it out for the beskar that had long lost its integrity, but managed to make him look like a different Mandalorian. A Mandalorian that Grahvix and his guards wouldn’t recognize.

He attended court and the dinner festivities. His eyes never left your form that day, lounging uncomfortably in the crook of LImax’s tail.

He had a hard time controlling himself as he watched Grahvix’ lusting glances and the wandering hands of various court goers. All he wanted was to draw his blaster and kill all of them.

But he didn’t. It was too dangerous to do.

He saw the way you winced when you moved, barely covered by the garments provided. He saw the bruises on your hips and your upper thighs when he caught a glimpse of your leg through the long slit in what he wouldn’t even call a skirt.

And when you danced that night… he was hypnotized. Entranced by the way your body moved, the sway of your hips. How you could still move so gracefully even with the little leeway the chains on your wrists gave.

His heart broke when he saw your back. The fresh wounds from the lashes barely scabbed over. Once more he wanted to do nothing more than murder every person in that room.

Your eyes were closed the entire dance, whether from pain or trying to imagine that you were somewhere else, he could not tell.

Your dance ended right in front of him, your head thrown back, your back arched, you were close enough he could touch you, but he didn’t.

It took everything in him to not reach out and run his hand through your hair. If you’d have just opened your eyes, you would have seen him. You would have recognized him, he knows it. You would have known that he had found you, just as he had promised.

But you didn’t, your eyes stayed shut and he saw a small tear slip out from underneath one. He watched as Grahvix took you by the chain between your wrists and lead you out of the room.

He turned and left then. Going back to the Crest, changing back into his good beskar. This time when he left, it would be with you.

It was barely dark when he snuck back into Limax’ palace. He couldn’t help but jump when he heard an ear-piercing scream. He knew it was you.

He headed in the direction he heard it come from. He turned down a hallway, now the sound of a sharp crack and a weak wail was audible.

He keeps his blaster poised, ready to shoot anyone he sees coming down the hallway.

“You’ve been doing this for years.”

Crack.

“And yet you still don’t satisfy me like you are supposed to.”

Crack.

Din stops just outside of a door, the voice comes from inside the room behind it.

Crack.

“Maybe I’ll kill you this time. Save me some trouble.”

Crack.

At this, Din shoves the door open, taking aim and shooting Grahvix in the side before he could turn around. As Grahvix hits the floor gasping and bleeding, Din’s eyes land on you.

Your back was towards him as you slouched against the pole your hands were chained to. You hung by your arms, your legs having given out underneath you. The lashes had reopened every wound on your back, blood trailed down your back, down your legs, and into a puddle on the floor under you.

Small whimpers of pain left your throat as your head lulled against the pole, you were barely conscious.

Din raced to you, gently taking you by the waist, lifting you up just enough to unhook your arms. He holds you against him for a moment, pulling out the bacta spray he had brought. He sprays a thin coat over your back, hoping that it would be enough for now. The chains clang softly as he lifts your arms up over him, slipping them around his neck. He then lifts you into his arms, one arm under your knees, the other pressed as lightly as he could against your back, trying not to hurt you any more than you already were.

He catches a glimpse of your eyes as you look up at him. He sees the hint of recognition in less than a second.

“Din?” you rasp.

But before he can respond your head lulls into his chest as you slip into unconsciousness. He holds you against him for a moment, reveling in the fact that you were alive, although hurt, you were alive.

He turns, glancing down at Grahvix writhing in pain on the floor.

“You thought you could escape? With her?” He coughs, grinning. “You won’t get past that door.” He reveals a small device around his wrist with a blinking red light. A panic button.

“Shit,” Din mutters.

Guards start to file into the room.

“Take him to see Limax. And help me up off this damn floor,” commands Grahvix.

“I should have killed you,” Mando sighs.

“You should have,” Grahvix agrees.

The guards come towards him. He shakes his head.

“Just lead me there. I can’t do anything when I’m carrying her. And I’m not putting her down.”

The guards surround him and lead him back to the main room of the palace.

As he walks, Din feels you shift slightly.

“Din?” You slur, the pain still overloading your body.

“Shhh Y/N, I’ve got you,” he replies.

You moan in pain as you curl into him, your head now resting on his shoulder, in the soft space between his armor and his neck.

“Tell me… Tell me I’m dead and this is the rest of eternity… that the pain is just my imagination…” you whisper.

Din takes a breath, “No, love, it's not, but you are safe now. I’ve got you. I won’t let anyone else hurt you.”

He can feel your warm breath through the fabric around his neck.

“Why… why did you come Din? I-I told you not too…” you slur.

His grip on you tightens ever so slightly as he follows the guards into Limax’ throne room. “You know why,” he whispers.

The guards stop him in the middle of the floor, directly in front of the Hutt.

Limax’ orange eyes thoroughly examine Din as Grahvix is helped onto the platform by one of the guards.

“This Mandalorian has kept me from punishing that slave, and tried to escape with her… again,” Grahvix says to Limax.

The Hutt grumbles lowly in a language that Din doesn’t understand.

“That’s your favorite pet,” replies Grahvix.

Limax lets out an angry sound, his thin lips curling in a nasty smirk.

Grahvix grins, “I think that sounds like a wonderful idea my lord.”

Din’s mind is racing, glancing around the room, trying to calculate the chances of escape. If he set you down, he would be able to draw his blaster. Three guards surround him, two at the doors, one on either side of the throne, and then an extra shot at Grahvix for good measure.

Eight shots.

The odds were incredibly stacked against him.

“Don’t Din…” he hears you warn, knowing exactly what he was thinking, “We won’t make it.”

Your back was beginning to go numb, and your thoughts were beginning to clear as the bacta started to work.

Grahvix turns to you and the Mandalorian, his grin sending a shiver down your spine.

“You use carbonite quite often, am I right, Mandalorian?” Grahvix asks.

Din nods, unsure of where this was heading.

“Din, I think I might be able to stand now,” you whisper.

He sets you down on your feet, your legs start to crumple underneath you but he keeps an arm around your waist, holding you up as you try to get sturdy on your feet.

Barely standing on your own, you continue to lean against him for support. Clinging to him like your life depends on it, but you can tell, he doesn’t want to let go of you either.

The corner of Grahvix’ mouth twitches.

“We will give you two choices, and I won’t tell you what either outcome will result in,” Grahvix says. “You can either walk out of here alive, without the girl or stay here and test your fate.”

“Go, Din. Please,” you whisper as he looks down at you.

He shakes his head, “I’m not breaking another promise.” He looks back up at Grahvix, “I will stay.”

Grahvix grins widely now, “I was hoping that would be your answer.”

Limax laughs suddenly. An unsettling feeling descends upon you, Limax rarely laughs and when he does, it's not about anything good.

“Now on to business. The slave still has not received all of her punishment from the first escape attempt, and now she must also pay the price for a second,” Grahvix says.

Your stomach drops, unable to fathom the pain you will be in.

Grahvix thinks for a moment, “Still thirty lashes left from the first punishment, and hmm seventy-five for this attempt since you weren’t able to leave the palace. Then another Fifty for trying to kill me. In all one hundred fifty-five lashes.”

You almost pass out again, Din holds you up. That’s more than anyone has ever been sentenced to in the entire time you have been enslaved here.

“So ten per week for… sixteen weeks roughly.”

You can barely breathe, you are shaking in fear, he’s trying to kill you.

Din glances down at you, you were in no shape to take any more lashes for quite a while.

“Then let me take some of them. The seventy-five to start,” Din looks back up to Grahvix.

“That could kill you!” You exclaim, clutching Din’s shoulder.

He shrugs, “It’ll be okay.”

Grahvix smirks, “Such a hero, you can’t take them all but you can have the seventy-five.”

Din nods. You stare at him wide-eyed, barely able to suck in a breath.

“And you wait to give her anymore.”

Grahvix gives a curt nod, “Strip then, let's get on with it.”

“The helmet and my shirt stay on, I will remove my cloak and my armor, but that is all,” Din offers.

“Please, Din. Please don’t do this.”

He reaches up, pulling his cloak off with one hand, then he wraps it around your shoulders. You stand on your own now as you watch as Din carefully removes his breastplate because, although it offered no protection for his back, he feared that it may restrict his movement.

He knew that this was going to be painful, very painful, but he would rather take it than watch you in that much pain.

Grahvix hands off the whip to one of the guards, since he is wounded.

“Would you like to be… restrained… in case you pass out before we are done here?” Grahvix asks.

Din shakes his head, turning his back on them and kneeling.

“Din, please don’t do this,” you beg.

“Get out of the way, Y/N,” Din replies. “Sit down in front of me, I don’t want you to watch my back as this happens.”

You move silently, tears already pricking at your eyes. You pay no attention to the two guards moving a large rectangular object into the room as you kneel down in front of him, staring at the small patch of sand between you.

“Hey,” he whispers. “Look at me.”

His gloved hand gently lifts your chin up, your eyes land on his visor.

You jump when the first lash hits him, he barely flinches.

“Don’t take your eyes off of my visor, okay?”

You nod as another lash hits him.

The tears stream down your face as you sob with every lash. Behind the visor, he keeps his own eyes trained on yours, trying with all his might to be quiet, knowing it would only cause you more pain.

He grunts softly at thirty, taking most of them without a sound, either that or the modulator just wasn’t picking them up.

You squeeze your eyes shut, turning your head away. You jump with every crack of the whip.

“Look at me…” Din growls through his teeth at forty.

You look back at him again. His gloved hands are spread wide over his knees, clutching them tightly.

He lets out a sharp huff of air at fifty. You can tell he is really hurting now, but the lashes don’t stop, he still has another twenty-five.

At sixty-five he seems to barely be holding himself up as he sways slightly.

He audibly groans at seventy, gasping now.

Finally, the seventy-fifth lash hits his back and he falls forward, his helmeted head landing in your lap.

You make the mistake of glancing down at his back, his shirt is in tatters, and there's blood, blood everywhere.

“Oh maker,” you gasp.

Din groans, “I’ll be alright.” He turns himself over, so you don’t have to see his mutilated back. You hold him against you as he takes in shaking breaths, not caring about the blood getting all over you. His helmeted head now rests on your shoulder.

You look back up as Grahvix laughs with Limax.

This is too much for you way too much for you.

“Get him out of here,” Grahvix commands.

“What?” Your head snaps up.

“We can’t have him getting in our way, now can we?” Grahvix says.

Two guards yank Din up by his forearms, he tries to fight them off but he is too weak to pull his arms from their grip.

You whirl around to Grahvix, “What are you doing?”

“Removing a threat,” he shrugs.

The guards drag Din away to a panel standing upright on one side of the room. You immediately realize what they are about to do.

Your eyes go wide, “No! Not in the state he is in!”

Grahvix just smirks, “Yes.”

You watch in utter horror as the two guards start to lift Din into the carbonite panel. They begin trying to take his armor off, but you race over, sliding into the confusion and placing yourself between them and Din before they can reach for his helmet. You push away the guards, slipping Din’s arm around your shoulders, and one arm around his waist, the other pressed against his chest, you just manage to hold him up, but it’s quickly sapping what little strength you had left.

“The helmet stays on,” you say breathlessly.

You turn your attention back to Grahvix, “Don’t do this.”

“Y/N…” Din rasps.

Grahvix just shakes his head as the palace nurse droid tends to his blaster wound.

“What do you want, Grahvix. I’ll… I’ll do anything…” you beg.

“Y/N… don’t…” Din gasps.

You turn your face to him, “Don’t fucking what? You just took seventy-five lashes for me, you are about to be frozen in carbonite, are you trying to tell me not to risk my life for you? Damnit, this is why I told you not to come here.” Your voice softens, “I can’t lose you…”

“I can’t lose you either,” he whispers, placing his hand against yours on his chest.

“You can beg, and promise all you like, but I can make you do whatever I want. I don’t need you to promise anything,” Grahvix sneers.

He gives a nod, “Leave the helmet.”

At that, two more guards tear you away from Din, while the other two lift him into the panel. Once more Din tries to fight them, but he just doesn’t have the strength to put up much of a fight.

Both you and Din know exactly what is going to happen, having seen many beings frozen and unfrozen, but Din wasn’t prepared, and neither were you.

You struggle against the two guards, but your exhausted body doesn’t have much fight left.

“PLEASE! NO!”

They drag you literally kicking and screaming a short distance away. You honestly don’t know how you have tears left to cry.

Somehow Din finds the strength to lift his head as the guards lean him against the back of the panel. Through the visor, his eyes meet yours.

“I will figure something out… I love you.”

With that, the guard presses a button on a wireless control, and the gas engulfs the Mandalorian. He gasps when he feels it, like cold beskar against his skin,

You scream, a shrieking wail full of heartbreak and anger.

You know that even though he can’t move or see anything, Din will be able to feel the pain from his shredded back. He will be able to think, long and hard about an escape plan. He will hear your every cry, scream, and whisper, and be able to do nothing.

You break out of the guards’ grips and run back to his frozen form.

Sobs choke you as you set your hands on either side of his helmet.

“Din?” you gasp.

He can hear you just fine, and it breaks his heart. You’re so close and yet he can’t reach out to feel you or offer you any comforting words.

You collapse to the floor in front of his frozen form. Your exhausted body starting to give out on you.

“Now…” starts Grahvix, “You really are mine.”

He hudges your weeping form with his boot.

“And you…” He walks up close to the frozen Mandalorian. “You get to listen to everything I do to her and do absolutely nothing about it."

If Din could punch him, he would. He swears to himself that as soon as he is free of this frozen prison, he is going to kill Grahvix.

You stare in anger at Grahvix, if you had the strength to stand, you would have choked him.

Grahvix waves his hand. “Take them to a cell… and let them catch up for a while,” he laughs. “Oh and leave that remote with me.”

You are hauled to your feet and then shoved around corners and downstairs. Back down into the darkness of the palace you go with the Mandalorian’s frozen form trailing behind you.

To be continued...

A/N: And that’s why I apologized in advance... Let me know what you thought, and comment if you want to be added to the tag list!

Tags:

@lokilover-39 @fleurdemiel145 @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @just-a-casual-fangirl-011 @70sgubler @pascalisthepunkest @ispilledmyink @imaginebeinlovedbyme @fastidious-and-a-mess @taman-a @yumisaru @whos-too-bi @frantheseer @retrobhaddie @aeryntheofficial @renreypoe

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x y/n #the mandalorian imagine #mando #mando x reader #mando x you #mando x y/n #baby yoda #jabba the hutt #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mando imagine #din djaren #din djaren x reader #freedom #ivegotthefanficinme

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mcwriting · 4 years

Text

starstruck (8)

Hellooooo... sorry I didn’t post this on Friday, I was super busy all day/night finishing up my summer college course + other stuff. I haven’t finished 9 yet so it should go up next week :)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9

Fandom: Tom Holland

Ship: Tom x reader

Setting: LA, Seoul

Word Count: 1964

Warnings: maybe some mild language idk

Rating: K+

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Tom burst through the door of the hotel room being used as a lounge for his and his castmates’ teams while they did press.

He was late, and his management stood up as soon as they noticed him.

“Thomas! Where have you been? We’ve been calling all morning! This isn’t a good look,” his publicist started.

“Yeah we’ve been having to make excuses for over a half hour for you. Everyone else started interviews ten minutes ago. Let’s get you in there,” the manager continued.

“No,” Tom replied blankly.

“What?” they asked at the same time.

“I said no. I’m not doing things on your volition anymore. I’m tired of disappointing people and living a fake life just because you two have decided against the things I want to do. I’m sorry to do this right now, but you’re both fired.”

“You can’t be serious Tom. You know me! I’ve been with you for years!” his now ex-manager said.

“Yeah, come on. Who’s going to keep you relevant without me?” the former publicist asked.

“I think I’ll be able to manage just fine by myself, and if I want new help I’ll find someone better than both of you. You two have been jeopardizing my personal life for far too long in the name of fame and I can’t stand for it any longer. Harry will arrange for you two to get to your homes. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go do my job.”

With that, Tom walked across the hall into the interview room, where he was met with a few cheers and the smiling faces of his costars.

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“How are we gonna get her back to you?” Harrison asked late that night as everyone huddled around a table eating snacks. “I mean, I don’t think she’s going to come running back into your arms any time soon.”

The boys munched on chips and swigged Korean beer as they contemplated. Tom felt like a weight was off his shoulders now that he was free from his management.

“Doesn’t she have that friend? Maybe she could help us out.” Sam suggested.

“I don’t know, man. Y/n said she’s a huge fan. But they’re also best friends. Would she even be willing to let me near y/n? And if so, do you think she’d keep a secret that big?” Tom replied.

“It’s worth a shot, innit? Maybe she’d understand?” Harry thought aloud.

After some deliberation, the boys settled on sending b/f/n a dm through Harrison’s instagram to seem slightly less conspicuous in case you happened to notice her dms.

They didn’t expect an immediate reply. Midnight in Seoul was 8 am in LA, but luckily b/f/n had woken up early to work out since you were going to her house later that day.

The message asked her to help you and Tom reconnect and hopefully reconcile in person, and asked her to keep it a secret.

She was shocked to say the least, and unsure of whether to trust them after the hurt you’d experienced, but finally answered back after a few minutes.

Okay. I don’t know what you’re thinking, but I know I can get her to this formal next Friday night if you can make it.

She sent a link to the page for the upcoming event. It was a fundraiser gala for people of all ages. The site said it was sold out, but Tom knew he could probably find a way in.

That’s perfect. All you need to do is get her there. And you absolutely cannot tell her any of this or the whole thing might be ruined

Oh believe me, I won’t. I honestly want this as much as you guys, she’s been super bummed still and I just want to see her happy again. I’ll try to get back to you with her dress color and stuff if you want to coordinate.

Perfect. We’ll be in touch.

The boys fistpumped and high fived as they planned out flights and scheduling and finding a way to get those tickets. Eventually, they retired to their respective hotel rooms, since Tom would have one last day of press before heading home.

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Back in LA, b/f/n was now standing with you in her kitchen, watching you mix up some sauce for mac and cheese.

She leaned back against the counter as you stirred and added ingredients.

“Hey are you still going to the formal next Friday?” b/f/n asked.

“The what?” You didn’t look up.

“Remember? The big formal next week? All our friends are gonna be there.”

You thought about it for a second and then looked over at her as you turned off the stove burner.

“Oh my God. I totally forgot about that. I guess not since, 1: it’s probably sold out, and 2: I don’t have anything to wear.”

B/f/n smirked, turning to pick something up from behind her while you poured the sauce and pasta into a baking dish, topping it with breadcrumbs.

“Well I think I have the first thing covered…” she trailed, holding up two tickets.

“You didn’t,” you smiled, stepping away from the dish. “No way.”

“Yes, way. I figured you’d forgotten with everything going on and snagged one up, even though I was mad at you. Who else would I take as my date? It’s not like I have a boyfriend.”

You went up and hugged her.

“You are literally the best friend ever.”

“Yeah, I know,” she replied proudly.

“But I still don’t have a dress. I don’t even know where to start,” you worried aloud as you put the pasta in the oven.

“Well… I kind of maybe looked up places at the mall that have dresses I know you’d like.”

“Oh my gosh. Is that why you want to go to the mall so bad? I can’t tell if I love or hate you for that.”

“You know you love me. Now how long is that mac and cheese gonna be? My stomach is growling.”

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After your pasta lunch, b/f/n and you drove to the mall, where she took you to 3 different dress shops. You were relieved to find that no one had followed you, as it seemed interest in you had diminished after everything you’d said.

“I’m getting the feeling I’m not gonna find anything I like. Maybe we should just give up,” you suggested after almost two hours of trying things on.

“Come on. There’s one more place at this mall and I saved it for last because there’s a dress I think you’ll really like.”

She drug you through the building and up an escalator until you finally came upon the shop. There were some really pretty dresses in the window display, so you felt a little bit less nervous when you walked in.

An employee asked if you needed help upon entering. B/f/n showed her a screenshot on her phone, and the lady immediately led you towards the back of the store. She pulled a black bag from the rack and hung it on another one near the dressing rooms.

“I think this is the one you’re looking for. Let me know if you need anything else,” she said, walking off.

“Okay, y/n. Close your eyes so I can unzip the bag. I want to surprise you.”

You did as told, putting a hand over your face for good measure. You heard the zipper and some rustling before b/f/n told you to look.

You opened your eyes to find a long, navy, satin dress staring right back at you.

“Whoa,” you whispered, going up to inspect it closely.

It was beautiful. It had a classic ball gown shape with a slit up the thigh and a beaded lace bodice. The neckline was in a deep V and the straps came up and over your shoulders. The back was low cut and a thin strip of silver beads circumvented the waistline.

“Sooo… what do you think?” b/f/n questioned.

“I- b/f/n. This is incredible.”

“Wanna try it on?”

You nodded enthusiastically and stepped into a dressing room with it. After a good minute of struggling through the inner tulle layers, you finally got it secure and was able to zip it yourself.

When you stepped out of the room and saw yourself in the mirror, you gasped.

“Y/n. You look amazing. What do you think?”

You didn’t answer her because you were too focused on how you looked to even process what she said.

“How are you ladies do- wow. That’s a gorgeous look on you,” the lady from before said as she came around the corner.

She helped adjust it a little, seeing whether it needed alterations or not.

“You’re in luck. This fits you like a glove. It does seem a bit long, but I’m assuming you’ll wear heels?”

You nodded, still speechless.

“So? This the one?” b/f/n asked.

“Yes. Absolutely yes,” you returned, beaming.

“I’ll go ring you up, then,” the employee said, leaving you to take off the dress and put your normal, boring clothes back on. You’d initially been saving up to buy a dress, and still had the funds since forgetting about it.

You and b/f/n hauled the dress bag around like your lives depended on it as you went on a search for matching shoes.

It took another half hour or so of walking around stores and trying on heels before you found a pair.

They were strappy and silver and the perfect height for your dress length. You couldn’t believe your luck.

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Now that you’d finally gotten everything, you and b/f/n headed to your house so you could show your parents, who were by then off work.

Your dad was fixing himself a snack when you both came in the door, you wrangling the dress over your head and her carrying the shoe box.

“Woah, girls. Whatcha got there?” he asked.

“Just my dress for the fundraiser formal next Friday…”

“Oh yeah I forgot about that. I think your mom and I will be skipping out this year but I’m glad you’re getting to go.”

“I forgot too until b/f/n reminded me. I’ll go put it on here in a minute. Where’s mom?”

“She’s in the office. Why don’t you surprise her?” he suggested, so you did exactly that.

You quickly got the dress and shoes on (with b/f/n’s help) and tried to quietly come down the hall. It was difficult since your heels clacked, your dress swished, and you and b/f/n tried not to let out cackles.

You popped just your head in the office doorway.

“Hey mom. What are you up to?”

“Oh hey honey. I’m just filing some charts. I’m almost done. Why?” she replied, only looking up from the computer to initially address you.

“Well I just wanted you to see something. And by something, I mean this.”

You slid into full view, and your mother’s jaw dropped. B/f/n appeared in the doorway behind you.

“Sweetie, you look beautiful! Did you just get this today?” you nodded as she got up to look at the dress closer. “Is this for next week?”

“Yeah. B/f/n bought me tickets and then took me out to look at dresses today,” you slung an arm around her shoulder. “I basically have the best friend in the world.”

“Well I love it and I’m so excited to see you both dressed up together next week. I think this is the perfect symbol for new beginnings!”

With that you gave a “hear, hear!” in agreement.

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