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nnight-dances · 2 years

Text

FOOLISH LOVE

pairings: xiao x f!reader

plot: y/n is a simp for xiao and loves him with her whole heart but will never let him know because she is convinced he is never going to return those feelings so she continues to stab herself in the heart by hanging out with him and falling more and more in love, full of happiness and sadness that he isn’t hers. spoiler: he is hers.

genre: angst, but also fluff

A/N: oh my god this is a repost of the first fic i ever wrote... um yea this is an interesting writing style.. but i kinda like the innocence so i'm just going to keep it!! we'll see how it goes.

“hey, i got this for you,” you were a little out of breath from the climb to the highest floor of the wangshu inn. you’d think days after days of trudging up and down the stairs would have you used to the burn in your calves but here you were sighing heavily as you place the warm bowl of almond tofu in xiao’s hands.

he shoots you a look halfway between concern and disdain, “you’re late.”

you scoff, plopping down on the rock beside the railing where xiao was settled, “you’re welcome.”

this was a routine for the two of you — every wednesday evening (because according to xiao “wednesday is when the sun is the wArMeST”) you would usurp smiley’s place in his kitchen and whip up almond tofu for a certain ungrateful adeptus and while he ate the dish (with a small smile that he always denied when you brought it up), you would narrate the happenings in your life as an employee of the wangsheng funeral parlour.

“the boy had this entire ‘good riddance’ attitude the whole time he was making negotiations but zhongli and i just knew he was trying to act strong,” you pause for half-giggle, “and guess what? as soon as he thought he was alone in hu tao’s office, he basically broke down.”

“that sounds revolting,” xiao places the now empty wooden bowl between the two of you, “why bother putting up such elaborate facades of strength if they’re so fragile?”

silently, you run your fingers through your hair, wondering if xiao was hearing what he was saying. it sounded too much like he was trying to provoke you.

you look away, choosing to ignore whatever the strangely pointed look on his face meant, and offer an unearnest hum.

“well, how about you?” you fiddle with xiao’s chopsticks, a little restless, “what adepti business have you been upto?”

a beat passes as xiao shifts, throwing his legs over the edge and swinging them. the uncharacteristically childish movement made you smile; you find that the more time you spend around xiao, the more you realise just how young he was.

“nothing of interest,” you roll your eyes at his curt reply.

“alright, i know you hate talking about your very confidential duties,” you’ve tried for weeks to get him to say something about what he does while you’re away and the best you ever received was an unsatisfying tale about a little girl interrupting xiao’s solitude in the mountains. and yes, you are aware that xiao just isn’t built to share things easily, or at all, but it doesn’t help the slight sting you feel everytime he declines.

well, at this point, it must be apparent: you are helplessly in love with the man with the softest teal undertones and the hardest walls to break, the adeptus who refuses to meddle with human world and thus, refuses all of your love. you know he does not think of you any more than a mortal and yet, every wednesday you ignore the warning in hu tao’s farewell and find yourself mesmerized by the enigmatic diamond on his forehead and the red around his eyes.

simply put, you are an idiot.

“honestly, i never imagined you to be so dramatic, y/n.”

hu tao is ridiculous. everything about her is far from the world of common sense and it reaches beyond the comprehension of any sane human being. perhaps, that is why zhongli is able to get along with her so well.

you gape at her, “i don’t understand — you’re asking me to consummate with a man i don’t even know and i’m the one you’re accusing?!”

“oh, for the last time, all you have to do is take him around liyue! and after you’ve dined on the finest dishes — which i’ve ensured xiangling will be responsible for — you will lead him to his chambers at wangshu inn!”

you raise an eyebrow, “and?”

the next words are whispered, “and maybe accompany him for the night...”

“HU TAO!”

the girl clap her hands together in plea and you feel a sense of dread creeping up your neck. there’s no way out of this, is there?

“is everything all right?”

“ZHONGLI!”

the tall man enters hu tao’s office, probably hearing the racket the pair of you have been creating, with an alertness, ready to face whatever monster was haunting you.

you raise a finger at hu tao who had her head in her hands, afraid zhongli would take your side. (which, surprise, he did.)

“zhongli! help me! hu tao is taking advantage of my maiden nature to ship me off with some gnarly man who will be sure to have the worst of intentions!”

the panic on zhongli’s face morphs into a frown of confusion as he protectively steps in front of you, “is this true, hu tao?”

hu tao sighs from her place, “no, of course not! i am y/n’s friend, her employer — what makes you think i would want to give her away to an unknown man? but the problem is that my family has sent what they call a ‘marriageable’ man and want me to keep him company on his trip to liyue.”

“he is from snezhnaya, yes?”

“correct, but the trouble is that i despise my family’s choice in partners, especially partners that you can’t easily get rid of. i wish not to be involved with him in any way.”

you step next to zhongli, “so you want me to suffer? you would rather see me writhe in—”

“all right, ladies, calm down,” you huff as you sit back down in the chair across from hu tao, “i see the entire matter now. i understand.”

“so? are you going to allow her to do this injustice to me, zhongli?”

years of working with zhongli had granted you quite the soft spot in his books and you knew just how to utilize his kind nature when times required.

“no, i agree with y/n. it would be a purely vile thing to leave her with this man in your stead,” hu tao visibly wilts and you feel a tiny bit bad, “however, we mustn’t allow hu tao to go off on her own either, for that would be irresponsible of us.”

“oh?” hu tao’s interest and your dread spike back up as zhongli scratches his chin for a moment before outlining his plan to get out of this tight spot.

“you want us both to go? do we look like a bunch of concubines to you, zh—”

“no! that is not what i mean! i suggest that y/n goes with hu tao and this man with… a date of her own.”

“so… like a double date?”

hu tao lights up, “yes!! yes!! that sounds marvelous. this way she can finally get out of her infatuation with that gloomy adeptus—”

you glare at hu tao, your hands lighting up with your electro vision threateningly.

“the question remains, who will take with you?” hu tao’s question is sickeningly full of innuendo and you want to distance yourself as far from it as you can.

you jump up to your feet, “zhongli!” you hook an arm around his elbow, having to stand on your toes in the slightest from the gap in your heights.

zhongli appears conflicted at your declaration, coughing awkwardly, “f-forgive me, y/n, i view you much more like a sister.”

you gasp when you realise what he means, “no! no! what- no! oh my archons, i have absolutely no feelings for you, that would be criminal. i meant that you should pose as my date.”

“why him?! i am exhausted of seeing the same two people all the time!”

“oh, come now. why not? after all, zhongli will be able to put the man down in a second if he dares to make an unrequited move.”

zhongli clears his throat, recovering from his misunderstanding, “oh, i suppose that is an intelligent proposal…”

“i know! great,” you nudge zhongli, throwing a wink at hu tao, “let’s get ready for the double date then!”

there is a skip in your step as you rush up the stairs toward xiao as fast as you could without spilling the contents of the bowl in your hands.

you were excited!!! xiao would be so amused!! you managed to turn a situation of possible suffering into one of appropriate tolerance!!

you almost trip as xiao comes into sight.

but you slow down when you realise he’s not alone.

oh! ganyu!!

the two of them seem to be engrossed in conversation and xiao looks... calm. nothing like how he usually appears when he meets people. in general, he has a weirdly distressed look that you would proudly notice softening whenever you were with him

it was one of your achievements in life, you felt, one of the only hopes that made you cling onto the dream that perhaps, you would be loved back. but you feel nothing but disappointment when xiao seems to easily chat (!!) with ganyu.

you shouldn’t be surprised really.. she was an adeptus after all. what gave you the idea that xiao would prefer to be with you, an ordinary human, when he had fellow adpeti like ganyu who could understand him in ways you couldn’t ever dream to parallel?

the excitement you felt moments ago is now far from your reach even as you try to smile back at ganyu when she notices you, waving at you happily. xiao tilts his head to look at you, nodding in acknowledgement.

you almost want to turn back and leave, as you feel your ears redden from something like humiliation.

“y/n!” ganyu beckons you toward the two of them and you reluctantly move closer. “hello, ganyu. i haven’t seen you for a while.”

“ah, i apologize. ningguang has been keeping us quite busy off late,” ganyu scratches her neck, “oh! which reminds me i have to collect some iron chunks for her! i will see you later, then.”

“goodbye,” you mutter as she flies off the railing, leaving you alone with xiao. it is now you notice that xiao has something in his hands.

“ganyu cooked a special variation of almond tofu for my trial,” the bowl is ingrained with golden details, much bigger and more elegant than the one you clutch in your hands.

“sounds interesting,” you hold up the bowl in your hands awkwardly, “i suppose i can take this one back then.”

xiao frowns, “why would you do that? it’s not as if i have a limit for how many bowls i can eat.” he takes the dish from your hands and waits for you to take your seat on the rock.

but you remain standing, taking support against the railings, “you should.”

you don’t fill the silence that ensues with your ramblings and instead listen to the wind as it picks up. xiao doesn’t take notice of this until he’s finished eating and clears his throat to bring attention to himself — his way of asking you to speak.

“we didn’t work much at the parlour today.”

“oh? is it because of hu tao’s incompetence or perhaps, zhongli wanted to recount one of his endless encounters?”

despite everything, you crack a smile at xiao’s comments. this was your weakness — a curse really. it would take everything in you and you would still be incapable of resenting xiao.

“no, we had to solve the case of hu tao’s marriage, one she wants to avoid so badly that she would have me sleep with a completely unknown man.”

xiao coughs in surprise, “what?!”

you are not naive enough to read much into the hostility in xiao’s eyes, “luckily enough, zhongli came up with a plan that would preserve everyone’s dignity.”

briefly, you explain the plot to corner hu tao and her potential husband with your and zhongli’s disguise as a couple.

“why would you go to such lengths to avoid a mere man? you could just take him out when he appears.”

“xiao, you do know that no matter his character, he is a guest of liyue.”

“if he is willing to force a lady into marriage, then he hardly is. and killing him would profit your business. a much better solution.”

you examine xiao to decipher whether he is being serious or not. he never does joke about hurting people but his eyes have a dangerous glint as if he means every word he says.

“i wish you would take these matters more seriously,” you look at the scenery one last time before springing away from the ledge. “anyway, i should leave. zhongli wants to meet before the date. see you, xiao.”

you leave swiftly, knowing if you stayed any longer, you’d find yourself convinced by whatever xiao had to say. you wouldn’t let yourself be swayed by your hopes anymore.

but this is what you miss when you turn your back to him: the clenching of xiao’s jaw because he doesn’t deem it possible take you any more seriously.

“ahhh, this is too much, zhongli!!”

“it is but some mere jewelry. i am sure if we were to crystallise your knowledge into gold, it would outshine these pieces brilliantly.”

you cringe at his words, “please, zhongli, save the flattery for later and help me put this on.” you hand him the delicate string of pearls he produced minutes ago (“i would never allow any lover of mine roam around bare-necked”). you admire the bracelet with the matching pearl in its center, smiling (“what’s with the bracelet, then?” “it comes in a set. you must look complete or it would be an insult to my affection.”)

“i mean it nonetheless,” zhongli fingers are warm against your neck as he slides the necklace snugly against your neck, clicking the ends closed. you praised yourself for opting to wear the wide-necked dress today which allowed the pearls to stand out against your skin while complementing the white with its smooth lilac.

for a minute, you let your imagination wander, replacing zhongli with a shorter man who would no doubt be commenting about his disdain for trifles such as accessories.

“it looks wonderful, y/n,” zhongli smiles at you, eyes filled with friendly appreciation and you feel a little empty even as he slides an arm around your waist, wondering when you would be looked at with something more intense than camaraderie.

the night progresses better than you expect. the man, whose name is lee, turns out to be less of a dignity-snatching gremlin and more of a light-hearted merchant who was tricked by tao family’s influence into coming all the way to liyue.

zhongli and you don’t need to pretend to be in love, but for the sake of meticulousness, he pats your head in the middle of his monologues as reaffirmation anyway.

hu tao has made a little effort to dress up, her staple hat nowhere to be seen and her pigtails traded for open hair that bellows around her fiercely. you smile at her as the two of you trail after the two men who are too occupied in their chatter to notice you straggling, “not so bad, is it?’’ hu tao shrugs but doesn’t deny it.

the three of you show lee to wangshu inn when it’s late enough, hu tao even offering some of her time in the morning to see him off at the harbour. when lee has left for his chambers (much to everyone’s relief, he made it clear that he had no intentions of forcing hu tao to spend the night with him. you kept a finger on your hidden polearm anyway), zhongli offers to watch the moon for some time.

“the moon is always quite remarkable from here, isn’t it?” you nod as hu tao sets off with an exclamation of “i’m getting us milk!” and sigh in relief. this night could have ended much, much worse.

“oh!” you remember the cold weight around your neck, “i’ve to return your jewelry.” you reach for the clasp, meaning to remove it but a hand on yours stills you.

“no, you should wear it for now. return it to me at the parlour later,” you giggle at zhongli.

“oh? i thought you said i’m like a sister to you, zhongli?” you tease him with a smile.

“of course, i meant that. however, it would be a pity to leave it in my pocket idle when it looks so fascinating in the moonlight.”

“archons, i wonder how you’ve stayed single for so many long decades, it’s creepy when you talk to me like that.”

zhongli chuckles and opens his mouth to retort but stops halfway, jerking his head to look at something behind you, expression alert for a moment and then familiar.

“what is it?” you look over your shoulder and find hu tao returning to you.

“nothing, i thought i saw someone familiar for a second.”

“i treat you to dinner and this is how you thank me? by pretending like i’m a stranger?” you laugh as hu tao launches at zhongli with the tray of milk in her hands, your heart shedding some of its pain unknowingly.

xiao doesn’t easily taking liking to things, but he does draw upon a list of his favourites, a list of items that make him feel something akin to happiness.

in the List, one of the higher positions was occupied by moonlit nights; nights where the moon was unapologetically enormous, filled to its brims, flooding and invading.

but today he finds himself resenting the moonlight, for you look so tempting under its touch, temptingly out of his reach.

now, xiao didn’t mean to follow you after you left him miserable and guilty of something he didn’t do. he couldn’t help it: his curiosity got the better of him when you mentioned zhongli.

and everything went downhill fast when he caught sight of zhongli figure bent against you, tying a necklace around your neck that seemed too precious to be a mere prop in the plans you spoke of.

xiao hated it, all of it. the way you easily touched zhongli, who leaned into your touches; the way he towered over you protectively; and the way your delicate features were only emboldened in the lilac dress you adorned.

just as quickly as he came, xiao left, his mood worse than ever before. he’d seen enough.

he returned with the intention of sparing the burn in his heart no more heed but there came the tinkling of your laughter from within the inn, and once again, xiao finds himself perched behind a pillar watching you from a distance, something he was doing more often than he liked.

and there you are, giggling against zhongli’s shoulder, sparking something feral within xiao.

he remembers your carefree giggles from a long time ago, when you just met him. why was it that they, your smiles and your brushes against him, had grown more and more sparse in time?

“xiao?” you frown when you don’t find xiao by your usual spot, placing the hot bowl on the rock to look for him.

maybe he was in his chamber?

you head deeper into the inn, stopping outside the chamber that xiao had mentioned in passing and knock thrice, lightly, almost afraid that he was inside. “xiao?”

you hear a few thuds from inside the room, before the door creaks open, giving way to xiao, who looks… unusual.

there is nothing off about his clothes, everything perfectly — eerily so — in place, but his expression gives him away. you are used to his disgruntled demeanour but today his eyes held something darker.

“hey, are you okay?”

xiao didn’t expect you to show up at his door (albeit he did hope dearly that you would, just so he could feel something), but he scoffs when he sees you, against his will. you look at him in slight shock and xiao wonders why you should find his rudeness out of place.

“what is it?”

you continue to pin him with that gaze of yours, disbelieving, “y-you didn’t show up on the terrace… it’s wednesday.”

“i see. i must have lost track of time.”

“you’ve never done that before.”

“well, you’ve never shown up empty-handed like this so i suppose we’re even, no?”

xiao can sense that you’re trying to control yourself as you pause. then, “xiao, seriously, what happened?”

“i am serious, nothing happened. if you’re looking to be entertained, maybe you should seek zhongli out, i’m sure he can help you out.”

“what?” you throw your hands in ridicule, “please, would you stop attacking me for a moment and tell me why you’ve holed yourself up like this?”

“and what makes you think i have any compulsion to inform you of my thoughts?”

xiao doesn’t know what he’s doing but he wants to hear you say something, anything that can hurt him. he wants to be rejected, to be pushed away. a bad habit he can’t seem to put away, especially when you persist so strongly.

you sigh, “okay, since you’re clearly not in the headspace to hold a proper conversation, i’m going to leave. i’ll see you tomorrow if you’re feeling better then.”

just as you spin to leave, xiao feels himself mumble, “coward.”

you stop in your tracks, “what did you say?” when you turn around, xiao can see a flicker of optimism, hope that you misheard him.

“i called you a coward. you pretend to be strong and tell me you’re my friend, that no matter what, you’re capable of creating a relationship with me, even if i’m just a bitter, forgotten adeptus. but the second it gets hard, you run.” he laughs mirthlessly, feeling his heart bleed when a tear falls onto your cheek, “leave, you’re as selfish as they go.”

the world stills when the last words fall of his tongue — the words all lies, meant to be weapons, meant to injure. and by the crestfallen expression you pin him with, he’s sure it’s worked.

but instead of leaving like he asks you to, like he expects you to, he swears your feet dig deeper into the wood of the inn.

“you have no idea, xiao, do you? selfish, you say? do you think i cook almond tofu for you every single week, after an entire day’s of work because i have something in it for me? is it your pleasurable company i come here for, or your willingness to open up for me, even after all these days, these years. do you think i like it? no, i hate it. every single day i spend near you, it hurts. do you know what else is on wednesdays? the parlour’s weekly outing. i miss it for you, xiao, i give up time with people who would actually talk to me. and in the beginning, i was glad to have someone who listened so well. until i realised i don’t actually have you.”

you’re breaking down slowly, tears falling faster by the second, “and you know what? all of this would have been fine. but… i feel so much for you, xiao,” your voice is thin and desperate, your hands clawing at your leg. xiao’s throat is dry as you continue, “i— these feelings i have for you make it all the more painful to be near you. they’re so heavy and so overbearing and it just hurts so much because— because i know— i know you.”

xiao wants to ask what you mean — what feeling? what do you mean you know him? what about him? a shiver creeps up his shoulder but before his words are formed, you’re gone and suddenly, he is overwhelmed by the smell of almond tofu.

and this is what he realises: all this time he thought it was his love for almond tofu that made wednesdays so special, but no, it was your scent that he was looking forward to.

the night was cold and harsh

or maybe you just weren’t wearing enough layers to keep it away.

but either way, your cheeks felt especially cold as if they had been sunburnt. you did cry a lot, after all.

after managing to keep it together for the past week, you finally felt yourself sobbing when you unconsciously had made your way to wangshu inn. it was wednesday.

running as fast as your legs would take you, you thanked the archons that your house wasn’t too far.

now, about three hours later, you finally come out to the silent porch of your little cottage. you love watching qingce village in the night because besides the occasional anemo slime, it was serene and you could lie down in the privacy of your porch, watching the stars.

and like the countless other times you did this before, your hand reaches out to rest beside you, yearning for touch, to hear anything besides your own breathing.

“ah, fuck,” another tear trails down your face. you expected to feel numb by now but the realisation you had after your breakdown with xiao remained the same: you’re lonely. you didn’t expect to be lonely. you were friends with the loveliest of people, and your job was of many joys, once you ignored the initial suffering of death.

but either way, you couldn’t change the fact that it had been two long years since you’d felt a man’s touch, all thanks to your stubborn infatuation for xiao.

you found it hard to think about anyone else even when touching yourself at night but now, knowing you were no longer anywhere close to having a chance to be granted your desire for him, your mind wanders to the many offers from men you ignored.

one such proposal was prominent in your mind. kaeya was his name, you think. you suppose you could travel to monstadt. it wasn’t that late. before you can steel your conviction to move, you hear a rustling behind you.

soft footfalls followed by an even softer whisper of “y/n?” and you feel your breath pick up, the voice triggering pain and affection all at once.

you stay still, clutching the blanket around you tighter as you feel the figure approach you.

“xiao,” you acknowledge him as he enters your vision, fighting your instinct to shut yourself up in your room.

xiao looks relieved and he’s a little breathless, “y/n. you’re here.”

“i am.”

“i— i was worried when you didn’t come. it’s not like you to miss two of our meetings.”

you know he’s making you curious on purpose, making you overlook your fight, but you cave in, “two meetings?”

xiao lips lift in a smile when you take the bait, “yes. you said you were willing to talk on thursday when i wasn’t acting so... foolishly.”

“your words, not mine,” you refuse to offer him a smile, simply looking at him. he’s uneasy today, squirming but honest, eyes cast away and hands fidgety.

when silence falls, you don’t fill it even when he clears his throat and after two long minutes of looking at each other, he finally speaks first.

“about what you said that day... the— the feelings?”

the question rings clearly in his voice and you bite the inside of your cheeks, “i meant it. whether or not either of us likes it, i love you, xiao.”

you aren’t sure why you feel this confident — perhaps the surety of your last rejection affirms you or the bitterness powers you instead — but you say it clearly. clearly enough that you know that xiao’s ears turn red not from the cold, but from your words.

“i’m sorry for everything i said to you last week, but i meant it. i can’t promise everything will be the same but i need some time… away to gather my thoughts and take care of these feelings.”

“you don’t have to.”

you breathe a chuckle, “i have to try, xiao, not only for your sake but also mine.”

“no, there’s no need… there is nothing wrong with your feelings for me.”

this is when you finally raise your eyes to look at xiao and are stunned into a half-mouthed gasp at the sheer passion he offered up in his gaze. it was not different from the array of intense glares he would often arrest you with but this specific one was… disarming in the most un-xiao-like way. it was charming, gentle. vulnerable.

as if this isn’t enough to convince you that either xiao is testing some mystic adepti art on you or that you’re stuck inside some sickeningly realistic dream, xiao pads closer to you and falls to his knees, deliberate and meaningful.

“xiao? what—”

“the words i said to you that day were void of any truth. i couldn’t for a second muster the ludicrous thought that you’re selfish or cowardly. i… i am accustomed to seeing people leave, willingly or not, and without considering how you felt, i wanted to see the same happening to us.”

you are reeling from this entire situation — xiao is closer to you than he’s ever been in years and he’s speaking… a lot. like entire sentences!!!

“i am a fool. but i care about you… and not only platonically. these feelings you speak of — they seem to have settled in my chest as well.”

his breathing is heavy when he finishes and you find yourself getting breathless as well as you drop the blanket from around you.

“b-but,” you swallow against your dry throat, “but i’m mortal… i’m so weak. why—?” you seem to be unable to finish your question when xiao’s fingers hover over your palm in your lap.

distantly you realise that you’re both facing each other, knees folded and expression mirroring a look equal parts misery and adoration.

his index finger brushes your knuckles, “may i?”

you nod, allowing your colder hand to slip into his. a rush of blood bursts into your cheeks when his other hand follows, enveloping your hand.

“your mortality is not a sign of weakness. for eons, i’ve been daunted and seduced by solitude, because with the serenity follows darkness in the form of my past.”

“stupid karmic debt,” you don’t stop the bitter remark form slipping, genuinely annoyed at the unfair punishment xiao suffers.

his thumb rolls into circles on the back of your hand, “but i’ve been feel myself getting better, as if i were getting healed. and do you know what i think? you. you’ve been making me lighter, somehow making me feel something i never imagined myself capable of.”

you’re speechless and hot from the weight of his words, squeezing his hand in reply.

“i adore you, y/n. and i wish to heal you, too. the heaviness of your feelings—”

“is no longer,” you smile, hesitantly placing your free hand over his stacked ones, “if you return these feelings even in the smallest way, i am happy to embrace them at last.”

xiao is silent and then, he embraces you: a promise.

“thank you.”

everything doesn’t go back to normal. and you’re glad.

you still meet with xiao every week — now on saturdays, because no matter how many times you tell xiao you would rather feel the wind next to him, he insists you go out for drinks with hu tao and zhongli.

he sits by the table in smiley’s kitchen now and watches you when you make almond tofu — two portions this time. and when you’ve finished eating, you shift closer to xiao, knees touching and hands brushing so softly that the touch is more of a tickle, and watch as the sun disappears, dimming the world around you till you can feel nothing but xiao’s breathing, lulling you into a blissful sleep.

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anxioussweasley · 3 years

Note

Hi can you do a request for Fred Weasley x reader with angst prompt numbers 1,11,& 12?

1. When were you going to tell me

11. How long have you known about this

12. It’s 3am where the hell are you.

Warnings: angst

Word count: 1.4k

A/n: Babes! babes! I’m so sorry this took me so long! I was exirencing major writers block and I have been working all the time and I have also just graduated so life has been crazy. Thank you for the request, pls don’t hate me for taking so long! I really hope you like it. May the angst be with you XD.

Leaving

You were livid.

Your boyfriend was leaving. He was leaving and he didn’t even bother to tell you. From what Lee had accidentally slipped up and told you, Fred and George had been planning this for a while.

You knew Fred was struggling this year. Umbridge was a nightmare and nothing seemed to be going to plan. Fred was frustrated, wth his mum, with school, umbridge, getting kicked off the quidditch team only made things worse. You tried to be there for him, to take care of him. And despite all of his promises that you were the best thing that ever happened to him, that he was so thankful to have you by his side in times like this, he was leaving you. He was leaving you and he wasn’t even going to tell you.

You searched for the ginger for hours. Your anger turned to heartache turning back to anger as every hour passed. The gaping hole in your chest growing with every unanswered call. Every empty secret room or passage only causes you pain.

It’s far past curfew when you make it back to the gryffindor common room. Giving up on your search for your boyfriend. You through yourself down on one of the couches, covering your face with your hands as you sigh.

“You still haven’t found him?” Hermione's sudden voice makes you jump as the curly headed girl appears at the bottom of the stairs to the girls dormitories.

“No.” Is all you can manage to say.

“I’m sure he’ll turn up. Fred Weasley is a lot of things but, and don’t tell him I’ve said this, he’s not stupid. He loves you and he would never screw your relationship up like this. You should check his dorm again. I’m sure Lee is still up,” Hermione suggested quietly before giving you a small smile and making her way back upstairs.

You let out another sigh. It couldn’t hurt to check his dorm again. So you halfheartedly shuffle up the stairs to the boys dormitories, knocking quietly on Fred’s door.

Your heart breaks again when Fred isn’t the one to answer. Instead it’s Lee who pulls the door open giving you a sympathetic look before saying, “no luck?”

“No. I-I was hoping he was here.” Lee just shook his head, sighing.

“He hasn’t been back. George was here for a second. I told him you were looking for Fred he just said ‘he knows’ grabbed a backpack and ran out,” Lee informed.

“So his phone is working,” you grumble, “I guess that answers that.” You shake your head, the tears threatening to fall again.

“He loves you Y/n. I’m sure this will all be explained-“

“If he loved me he would have told me he was leaving!” You shout. Lee stands there wide eyed, before slowly nodding.

“I’m sorry about all of this Y/n. I really thought he had told you.”

“No, Lee, it’s okay. Someone had to.” With that you turn and make your way back to your dorm.

You enter the room as silently as possible to not wake your roommates before throwing yourself down on your bed.

You wanted nothing more than to forget this whole day ever happened. To wake up in the morning and realize that this was all a nightmare. That your boyfriend wasn’t actually leaving tomorrow, that he wasn’t planning and leaving without saying goodbye, without telling you what this meant for your relationship. But no matter how much you wanted to forget, you couldn’t sleep, couldn’t stop thinking about what this whole night meant for you. You tossed and turned and huffed, unable to get comfortable. The sinking feeling in your heart refusing to go away. You huff again rolling over, glimpsing at your clock that read 3 am. That’s when you hear the phone ring.

You bolt right up in your bed grabbing the phone, making your way out of the dorm and into the hallway and quickly answering it. You didn’t even have to look at the caller ID… you knew exactly who it was.

“Love, listen-“

“It’s 3 am, Fred Weasley! Where the hell are you? I looked for you for hours!” You shouted harshly. There was scilence on the other end of the line.

“Meet me in the astronomy tower, okay? I’m going to explain everything.”

“If you wanted to explain things you should have done it 8 hours ago!” You spit, your anger coming back in full force.

“Love, please,” is all he said back before hanging up the phone.

The walk to the astronomy tower seemed to take ages. The cold air nipping at your skin as you made your way up the long stairway. The light from your wand barely illuminated the old stone steps. The dark only adding to the eerie cold feeling seeping into you.

When you push open the door to the astronomy tower Fred is already waiting for you, leaning against a wall and watching the door with a worried gaze, on where quickly tries to hide as you enter the room.

“You came,” he sighed, sounding more relieved than ever.

“Of course I did. I would never ditch you without an explanation.” You knew you were picking a fight, being petty, but at this moment you felt you deserved it.

“Love, let me explain-“

“You can start by explaining why you made an elaborate plan to run away from Hogwarts with your brother, and didn’t bother to tell me.”

“I was going to Y/n.” Was all he said.

“Really? When? When were you going to tell me? Because apparently the day before wasn’t it!” You seethed.

“Y/n I- I tried I just didn’t know how. It never felt like the right time. I didn’t want to hurt you” Fred answered.

“You know what hurt me Fred? Finding out from Lee that you were leaving, looking for you for hours thinking that you didn’t tell me because I didn’t mean enough to you to matter. Thinking that you were leaving and you weren’t even going to say goodbye. Thinking that this was over! That’s what hurt me Fred!”

“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. Don’t you think I wanted to stay for you! I love you. We have known each other for 7 years! You have been by my side for 7 years! And I don’t want to leave you behind! I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye! I don’t want this to be over! I just didn’t know how to say that. Because I didn’t want you to feel like I was leaving you”

“Godric, Fred, how long have you known about this?” You couldn’t stop the tears from flowing, you and Fred had never fought like this.

Fred sighed looking down to his feet, unable to meet your eyes. “About a month, maybe more,” he mumbled out. Now you really couldn’t stop the tears. He had known for over a month, he had known he was leaving and he didn’t tell you.

“Love, please, I know I messed up. I should have told you sooner. This doesn’t have to be over though. You can come with me, stay with me and George, work in the shop. Or you could come live with me after you graduate. Y/n please, this is my dream. I know it’s risky but it’s what I want, and I want you to be apart of it.” He begged, you could feel the sincerity in his voice.

“I never minded the risk, Fred. As long as we did things together. I’ve always supported you. I wanted to start our lives outside of Hogwarts together. I just- I don’t understand why you didn’t trust me.”

“I do. I do trust you. If- if you don’t want to go then I’ll stay. I’ll stay here with you.” Fred said, taking a step closer to you and reaching for your hand.

“No, fred. This is your dream. I’m not going to keep you from it,” more tears streamed down your face. “This is everything you have ever wanted. So you should go, but I- I have to stay. I have to graduate. And when I do- I’ll come find you.”

“I don’t want to leave you here. Especially not with umbridge. Y/n please I don’t want this to be the end of us,” a tear streamed down his face.

“It’s not Freddie.” You took in a deep breath wiping the tears from your face and mustering a small smile. “It’s just- just a small break. You go out there and get your dream. And in a few months I’ll be right there with you.”

#fred weasley #george weasley #weasley twins #weasleys #fred and george #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley imagine #george weasly imagines #hp imagine #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley angst #anxiousweasley writes

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rantingwriter · 3 years

Text

Accidentally in Love (Hawks x Civilian Reader) Finale

Trigger warning: strong language, long hospital stay, slight angst

A couple of months passed since that magical night out with Hawks. You noticed his visits after that became more and more infrequent. You weren’t too worried at first, he is a pro-hero he is naturally busy. Now...you just weren’t sure what to think. “Yo, [y/n], how long are you trying to make your scarf?” Hime catches your attention and you quickly realize you made a 7 foot long plaid scarf.

“Oh, shit...uh…” you start to work in reverse to shorten the scarf back up to a more reasonable length. Today was knitting day, but you managed to convince Yumi (the recreation therapist) to let you use your quirk instead of the knitting needles. “Sorry, I was lost in thought.”

“No worries, but what’s got you spacing out like this?” Ayame asks, only making a potholder with her limited (but slowly improving) range of motion.

“It’s-” you quickly check your surroundings before quietly continuing. “Hawks, he hasn’t been by in weeks…”

“He is a top ten pro hero, from my understanding that means they are notoriously busy.” Ayame tries to reassure you, but you have been telling yourself that too much to believe it. “Do you have his number? Maybe you can call him.”

“I do have his office number, but wouldn’t that be weird? What would I even say?”

“Maybe, how’s it going? Just checking in? Hadn’t heard and wanted to see if you are alright?” Hime ticks off options on her fingers, she is doing some embroidery which is a bit easier to complete one handed. “Even just a text would probably help put your mind at ease.”

You nod and finish your scarf up, folding it up onto the table for Yumi to come see. “Maybe after the group,” you continue to converse with the girls and Yumi praises your work when she gets to you. After the group wraps up, you go down to the hospital payphone, your cell is dead and you don’t have enough patience to wait for it to charge right now. You call the number Hawks gave to you. “Come on…” You hold your breath as it rings, your heart sinking when you get an answering machine. At the tone you do your damnedest to stop your voice from quivering with emotion. “Hey! It’s [y/n], I haven’t seen you around and I figured I would check in on you. I know you are probably busy, but...well...I guess I miss you.” You feel a lump form in your throat. “Just give me a call back or, uh, or a text, my number is…” you recite your cell phone number and tell him to have a good day before hanging up. You lean your forehead against the slightly warmed phone as it hangs from the receiver. Your heart is aching, “damn it, why am I so upset about this?” When your landlord kicked you out 4 weeks ago, you felt fine. You had a plan and your friends helped you out. You haven’t been making much progress since that first step, you weren’t upset, frustrated? A tad, but not the same level you got to in your first month here. Hawks ghosting you...just hit differently. You wheel your way back to your room, hoping he was waiting there, but alas it was empty. You set your scarf on the little table and get back in the familiar bed. You go against your better judgment and turn on the news, the silence in the room is just too much right now.

“In other news, pro-hero Hawks has been reported missing after taking on the mission to hunt down the dangerous villain: Live Wire.” The news anchor continues to speak, but you can’t hear it. You drop the remote to the floor with a loud clatter.

Fumi suddenly bursts into your room, “[Y/n]!” Your head slowly turns to meet her gaze, her voice barely registering. “Shit, I was afraid you would see that…” She quickly turns the TV off. “Word traveled fast, Mayu is a wreck and I heard you tried to call him.”

You swallow dryly, “he can’t be missing, he just can’t be. Maybe he is laying low? Or the media is trying to throw them off the trail?” You were trying to think of any possible alternative, but Fumiko somberly shakes her head no. “He can’t be gone!”

“[Y/n], I need you to calm down, take a deep breath for me.” She tries to reach out, but you swat her away.

“There is no way! I refuse to believe it! I-I can’t believe it!!” Your voice is steadily rising in pitch, your breathing is growing too erratic for your own good. Your friend quickly calls for help and your room fills with nurses and a doctor. They have to administer a mild sedative to bring you down from your near hysteria levels of panic. It ends up knocking you out for a couple of hours, your friend returning to work with a note left on your table with the promise to return that night. When you come to, you feel numb, someone you have grown to hold quite dear is missing and you are powerless to do anything. A nurse comes in to check your vitals when your phone buzzes with a message from an unknown number. You wait for the nurse to finish up before checking to see if it was an automated message or scammer preying on the weak again. Shock overcomes you as you read the messages.

Unknown: “Hey, it’s Hawks.”

Unknown: “Don’t respond, I’m not keeping this phone or this number.”

Unknown: “I hope you didn’t see that news report, but if you have, I’m okay.”

Unknown: “This mission is going to be a long one so I won’t be able to stop by. I’m sorry if I caused you any concern, but I was told not to tell anyone about this mission.”

Unknown: “I’m going to trust you to keep this between us ;)”

Unknown: “I promise to make up for my absence…”

Unknown: “When I return, I want to take you out on a date.”

Unknown: “And yes I mean a date date, not some half assed play date or anything that’ll leave you wondering where things are going.”

Tears pepper your phone screen, you felt so much relief and joy at just a few messages. Even if this was a sick, elaborate joke meant to make you think it was him, you held onto hope it was the genuine article.

Unknown: “Just know that I haven’t forgotten about you. I miss you...and I know it is incredibly selfish of me to ask…”

Unknown: “Please, wait for me.”

You nod as if he can see you, “I’ll wait, please just be safe.” You sob, your fingers clutching the scarf you made for him.

Unknown: “I have to go now. I want you to focus on your recovery, don’t worry about me. I’ll see you as soon as I can.”

The last one was sent a few minutes ago, you bury your face in your knees and let it all out. Fumiko comes by like she promised and you have feign ignorance about his whereabouts. You do your best to follow his last request and focus on your recovery. He was working hard, so you would too.

Two more months go by, no news of his whereabouts and no more secret messages either. Mayu hasn’t been herself since the announced disappearance, but she was powering through for her patients sake. You on the other hand have made great progress, you are finally walking. Actually walking! Granted you still need support to maintain balance, but you are able to move your legs again. You still utilize your wheelchair to get around the hospital, but you are doing your best not to rely on it too much now that you are regaining mobility.

After a couple of weeks of steady improvement, they are talking about a possible discharge date. You aren’t sure how to feel, you are ready to be back out and about and get back to your life. Yet at the same time there is still so much to take care of that you can’t help but feel overwhelmed. Rika tries to help by apartment hunting in your stead, now that a release date is on the calendar, but you still need to ensure the job offer is still in place with Best Jeanist.

Before you know it, you are walking without support and you are preparing to leave the hospital that has become your home for nearly a year. Hime and Ayame are so excited for you, both are still stuck for a little while longer, but you promised them to visit as often as possible. You thank all of your therapists, the ones who have been there the whole journey and the ones who only made occasional appearances. Your bags are packed, your prosthetic is in tip top shape, and your transport is all ready to go. Tomorrow, you are going home. You feel more melancholy than joy about the occasion. Part of you hoped Hawks would be back by now to see you off or at least hear some type of news on his whereabouts. You turn on the news right before bed, a new ritual just to see if there have been sightings or anything at this point. Expecting the same old news, you leave it on as background noise and busy yourself with something else.

Breaking news! Flashes across the screen and the news anchor fervently announces, “Hawks has finally returned after being off the grid for nearly 6 months. The villain known as Live Wire now confined to the maximum security prison of Tartarus!” You feel your heart swell, he is finally back! A loud ding of your phone alerts you to a new message.

New number: “Come to the roof.”

You quickly get in your wheelchair and wheel your way to the roof. You throw the door open and you feel your heart skip a beat. It’s him! It’s really him! He turns to face you as soon as he hears the metal door. His face is beaming, “Hey there kid.” The sound of his voice washes over you like a refreshing breeze on a hot day. “You look great, how are things going with treatment?”

You smile brightly, rising up from your wheelchair, you make it look like you have simply mastered standing. When you start running towards him, his face quickly morphs to one of shock. You leap at him, throwing your arms around his neck as he effortlessly catches you. You can hear the smile in his voice as he shouts out, “Holy shit!” He tightens his hold around you. “Holy shit!!” He lets go of you and pushes you back to look at you, his hands still firmly on your shoulders. “You are walking! You-you are running!!” He is a sputtering, excited mess.

“I actually leave tomorrow, I finally did it!” You cheer with him, lightly jumping as his wings puff up and expand outwards.

“I’m so proud of you! I wish I could’ve been here to see you,” his wings start to droop, but you quickly gather him back up and just embrace him for a minute.

“You are here now,” he returns the sentiment, burying his face into your shoulder. You both stay like that for a long time, relishing in the closeness and warmth. You finally break the silence, whispering in his ear. “So, still planning to take me out on a date?”

His breath tickles your skin as he chuckles, “of course,” he leans back his arms still firmly around you. “I wanted to talk to you before this mission, but...shit happens.” He starts to caress your cheek, halting his efforts to tug the glove off with his teeth. His warm hand has a much more welcoming feeling than the rough texture of the glove. “I really like you, more than I’ve ever liked anyone. I know we had a rocky start and things haven’t been the easiest since we met, but…” He hesitates, unsure how to continue when you throw the scarf you made him around the back of his neck and yank him close enough to press your lips to his. He jerks back initially, it takes him a few seconds to register what just happened. When the lightbulb in his brain lights up, he grabs the side of your face and crashes his lips into yours. You can’t help but laugh at his actions, wrapping your arms around his neck to solidify the connection. You are first to break it to catch your breath.

“I like you too, you goof.” You affectionately rub your nose against his and he rests his forehead against yours.

“I’m glad, I was more scared of this conversation than I was facing that villain.” You both laugh as you step back to properly wrap the scarf around him. “What’s this?”

“Something I made for you...think of it as a gift to cover the holidays I missed.” He smiles as he feels the material between his fingers.

“Thank you,” he takes your hands in his and lightly swings from side to side. When this all started, you couldn’t see a future, you felt lost, alone, and just empty. Now, you’ve made new friends, you felt like you’ve regained control of your life, and now you have a boyfriend; bonus points! The fear of leaving the hospital felt so small now, you were ready to get back to living.

#reader insert #hawks x reader #keigo x reader #keigo takami #pro hero hawks #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #slight angst #fluffy fluff #long shot #part 6 of 6 #tw: hospital

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xxsmokeyy · 4 years

Text

Levi x Reader (F) Tattoo

genre: smut, angst

summary: as he ends things, you desperately offer him your body, telling him to mark you even if it’s for the last time.

wc: 4,200

The darkness of the night takes over your flat, as you refuse to turn any source of light on, dead silence engulfing the space. It's comforting, the dim, solemn room. Lying alone on the bed you shared with your lover, you stare at the seeping light from the windows. If only you could switch the street lights off.

You don't know where it went wrong. This whole time, you settled with the assumption that everything was going well, that he looks at you the same way you do. But you have yet to learn.

It's like he's drifting away every passing day. Like he's growing distant every waking second. His change of behavior doesn't escape your scrutiny, even if his actions are as subtle as they can be. You notice how he scoots away from you on the sheets, and how he almost doesn't seem to need a share of the covers. How he disappears earlier than you can wake up, and how he only leaves you with a note saying he's off to work. It only tends to get worse everytime.

No, he's not seeing another person. After three years and a half together, you're quite confident you know him well. Quite. But eitherway, he isn't the type of man who'd cheat. He's a good guy, you know that for sure.

That's why you don't know how it came to this.

Were you not enough? Did you do something to throw him off? Is he sick of you? Has he lost his interest?

Thoughts and doubts flood your mind like crazy, leaving you wide awake with no room for rest. You check the time, and it's a few minutes past his expected return. He should be here any moment now.

Yet an hour passes by like years, and you feel your heart swell out of nothing good. As you check your phone religiously, you heave a sigh, toss, and turn. You just hope he's not drinking, though he's not the kind to drink until he's wasted. Heck, he's never even reached the point where he's tipsy. A smile creeps up your lips as you recall the times when you'd both drink, you ending up a mess and him always babysitting you, sweeping you up from your feet once you'd had enough and drive home, completely sober compared to you.

Before you know it, another hour passes by. Time feels like nothing. Void and numb. Maybe you should have taken your friends' night out invitation? You haven't caught up with them these past months. But you‘re aware you'll just space out and think of him when you're supposed to be having a good time.

Then, you feel your soul light up as you hear the front door open. Should you pretend you're asleep? Should you greet him and ask him if he's had dinner? Knowing him, he'll only scold you for staying up for too late.

You swiftly turn your back against the bedroom's door but don't bother to close your eyes. You sense him enter, and your heart flutters nervously. You wonder where he's been and what took him so long, just to eventually keep your questions to yourself.

His side of the bed sinks as he sits and loosens his tie, readying himself of some eyeshut. You wait for him to lie down, but he never does. Curiosity filling your brain, you ache to take a peek at what he's doing, but he's still steadily seated.

“You’re still up,” he says, perfectly aware. Your breath was queerly uneven, and you didn’t wrap yourself with the blankets the way you did. He knows.

Your breath hitches, freezing for a moment. Just how critical is he? Unsure whether to speak or not, undecided of what to say, you prop yourself up with your elbows and sit up, back leaning against the headboard. A long, defeated sigh leaves your lips.

It’s painfully silent. You take a glance at him and you’re greeted by his broad back. Both of you stay quiet, waiting for whoever initiates a conversation. It’s not awkward, nor is it uncomfortable. Just… despondent. Low.

“You can tell me,” you suddenly blurt out, voice but a whisper. You look at your hands and mindlessly fiddle with your fingers.

“Tell you what?” he asks, as if he doesn’t know already.

“I’m not dumb, you know,” you inform, shifting your gaze to the windowpanes. Curse those street posts, you prefer complete blackness, else he’d see how broken you are.

“Nothing’s up,” he says, and it ticks you off. Does he think you’re stupid or something? This has been going on for months, it’s impossible to try and not talk about it. “Just to remind you, I’m your partner,” you state with a firm voice. Let’s not beat around the bush here, Levi.

His muscles strain upon hearing your “reminder”. You probably caught him there. No one dares speak, letting a couple minutes fly by like nothing. You know he wants to say something, you can feel it, he’s tense. What’s stopping him?

You sigh for the uncountable time, giving up. “Let’s go get our rest, alright?” you place a warm hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry.”

Your eyes widen as you hear him. He less than seldom said that phrase, and it fears you the most that he’s saying it now of all times. You wish you were stupid to not get what he means. This is exactly how a guy like him would end it, but you want to play dense and pry it out of him. Everything. Because a sorry won’t be enough to answer your questions.

“Is it me?” you ask dryly, back to fidgeting with your fingers, heart thumping so wildly it’s like it’s about to explode.

“No.”

“Someone else?” It’s not.

“No,” he says, voice calm as ever. Figures.

“Then what?” your brows furrow as you question him, impatience starting to ring in your tone. His back facing you, his short words, his disinclined attitude, they’re frustrating. If he wants to end this, he better elaborate and be his most rational self.

He stays silent. You couldn’t take it any longer and open your mouth to speak, but before you could say a word, he finally answers, “I’m not fit for this.”

You fall mute, letting his words sink in. You wanted to burst into laughter, but you can’t. The atmosphere is simply too heavy, it’s weighing you down. Not fit? For what?

“Give me an idea. I can’t keep guessing here, Levi,” your pitch breaks as you call his name, the tension strangling you to death. “You have to tell it to my face!” you beg desperately. You’re right, he should quit cowering behind his excuses. He’s going to end this, and explain why, because you deserve it of all people. So he turns around to face you, but immediately regrets it the moment he does.

You are, indeed, broken.

No, you didn’t have the tear stained face a lady has when she’s been suffering long. No, your hair wasn’t a mess like you didn’t bother fixing yourself. No, you didn’t get thinner from neglecting food. In fact, you looked too perfect. Too organized, like you poured the whole of your attention into your appearance. Like you wanted to pamper yourself so you wouldn’t descend into an unrecognizable mess. Like you needed to look fine to convince everyone you are.

But the excessive effort goes to waste, the culprit being your eyes. Your eyes gave it away. The exhaustion in them is so unbearably visible, sabotaging your forged front. That, and a hundred more emotions underneath.

He hates it. He doesn’t like the idea of you hurting, especially if it’s because of him. And the way you tried to conceal it? He has to end this, fast. He can’t stand making you suffer even more.

“Listen, I tried everything, but I’m just not one for relationships,” he explains, looking you straight in the eye even though it pains him to. “I can’t love,” he averts his gaze for a fleeting moment upon saying the word. It’s too cheesy for his liking, but he has to go on. “And I doubt you can stay with a man who can’t show the least intimacy,” he adds.

Frozen, your brows furrow in helplessness. It’s all happening too quick. He’s definitely breaking up with you. He probably thought of this long ago but just can’t bring himself to do it. Now that you pushed him, he’s decided.

“I’m sorry.” And with that, he turns away and stands up, grabbing his coat and keys to leave. You witness as your world starts to crumble.

That’s it? Because he can’t love? What about the kisses you exchanged? The times you made love? The way he stays and listens as you go on about your day and problems? The meals you prepared for each other? His scoldings whenever you don’t clean to his standards?

More than three years of memories flash before your eyes as he takes his steps toward the door. After all these years, that’s the conclusion he comes up with?

“No…” you mutter, staring at his disappearing figure powerlessly.

You get up on your foot and run to him, later tripping over yourself from your weak strength. He hears the thud and spins around to help you right away. You’re on the carpeted floor, kneeling as you look at the ground. You‘re unable to feel your tears start to well on the corners of your eyes.

Levi grabs your shoulders with both hands to assist you up. “Brat, let’s get you to bed,” he says. A chuckle slips from your mouth by hearing the little nickname he calls you by. It’s funny how you find it more romantic than the sweet endearments people use with their lovers. Hearing something you consider romantic when he just ended things, ironic.

He ignores your unhumorous giggle and tries to lift you but you refuse. “I must’ve not been enough,” you mumble feebly. He doesn’t like it. You’re obviously drained of energy from pretending to be fine for too long, and now that he spilled it, you’re left with nothing but to show how affected you are.

“It’s not that.”

“Then it’s someone else,” you argue as if fully convinced, though you know it isn’t. You’re looking for excuses, anything else other than his reason. Because this is so much worse.

Because from here on, you’re going to blame yourself, look for some flaw, rummage your system for something wrong, and question what you lack. If only you could pinpoint anything, you’d be content.

“I told you already,” he presses, wrapping your hands around his neck to then carry you in his arms. But you refuse. You find the position convenient, and instead lean into his face for an unexpected kiss.

The moment you feel his warm lips, your tears stream uncontrollably. Oh, how you love kissing him. This is gonna be the last, right? There’s no making him stay anymore. You know Levi. Once he’s decided, he’s unbreakable. If so, you just want to savor it, one last time.

He pulls away, shocked by your sudden action. Shit. “Stop it,” he orders in a curt manner, catching his breath. He doesn’t want to see you like this.

“Please…” you beg, going in for another, and another, and another. Your soft tongue enters his mouth, searching for intimacy. He’s kissing back. He could easily push you away and leave right at this very moment, but he chooses to kiss you back.

Is it out of pity? No it isn’t.

He pulls you closer and kisses you back, trying to respond with the same passion. The same emotion. If there’s anything he can do to feel the same way as you, he’d do it at the end of his tether.

You take away one hand to cup his cheek lovingly, rubbing with your thumb his velvet skin. He’s flawless. Everything you could’ve asked for. But he just has to slip past your fingers, past your reach.

A quiet sob escapes your lips as you lean back for breath, face buried into the crook of his neck. He’s so damn warm, you don’t want to lose him. Though you know you have to let him go, you’re not selfish.

“All this time, you stayed with me knowing you don’t love me?” you ask, voice muffled as you speak into his skin. He doesn’t answer, and you hear another sorry. Aren’t you humble today.

You nod continuously before raising your head to look at his soothing, grey eyes. They’re the most beautiful eyes you’ve ever seen your whole life. “Please… just let me feel you.” You close the distance and kiss him, passion burning in your movements. You love the man so much, it might be a sin in another reality. Sure, you’ll leave him alone and let him be as he wants, but right now, you just want to feel him, deep inside your body. Just one last time.

“Please, Levi. Take me,” you breathe out in between the lip locking, a lone tear sliding down your cheeks. He doesn’t know how to respond, but he follows your request by picking you up and settling you back on the mattress.

Is this okay? Is this taking advantage of her?

It may be crazy, but you could hear his thoughts out loud through his eyes while he climbs on the sheets and sits in front of you. You gently shake your head to convince him that it’s alright, reaching out both hands to taste his lips once more. Levi answers back like nothing’s wrong, like you’re still together. He wants to find something. Anything.

Your hands crawl to his dark strands, running your fingers through them gently. You remember combing his hair with your hands randomly as an intimate gesture, and he doesn’t complain everytime. He’s certainly grown fond of you, but probably not in that way.

You help him unbutton his shirt and he helps you lift your silk top, exposing both your naked chests. He observes you for a second, the dim light casting abstract shadows on the dips and structures of your face. “Take me…” you whisper and he grunts in response as you both fall into the bed, him positioned on top of you. Deep down, you feel your heart sting in a mixture of pain and pleasure as he grazes his lips on your skin, inducing goosebumps on your whole body. You throw your head back to give him moving space and let him explore every inch of you.

He lets his mouth travel onto the peaks of your breasts, lips still wet from the exchange of kisses. The warm sensation forces a mewl out of you, and he continues. This is the last request you ask of him, and he’ll listen to your whims. It’s only one detail different from when you did it before.

He alternates from the two mounds once more, giving it a few shallow pecks before going down to remove your bottom. You’re now lying naked as he watches you for a brief moment.

You’re beautiful. You had what every man can wish for; a perfect body, a considerate nature, and a beautiful face. Of course you have more than just that, he never underestimated you. The problem really is with him and his apathetic psyche, and he can’t stay with someone as pure as you. You might be a mess right now, but you’re a tough one, you can stand by your own, even if he’s not there anymore.

"Hey, are you sure about this?" Levi asks as he hovers just above you. His voice is soothing like lulling you to sleep. You hum in agreement and sling your hands around his nape, kissing him yet again. Though still a bit reluctant, you hear him finally remove his trousers. Before you know it, he enters your depth, and you could feel him become one with you. It's another wonderful mix of pleasure and pain.

As your tongue spar with his, he then begins to buck his hips into you leisurely, earning him a couple stifled moans. His pace is slow and sensual, only adding up to the growing illusion that you were inlove.

Your eyes are closed shut, trying to prevent the tears from materializing so he won't see. You feel his length rub against your walls along with the stimulation of him kissing your neck. "Mark me," you beg quietly. He starts suckling on your bare skin just like you wanted, leaving a lone, but red lovebite.

Yes, you'd cherish that until it eventually disappears, because it's the last lingering memory of him you'll have on your body. Is it ridiculous to love someone this much within three years or so? Maybe it is. Maybe you are ridiculous. But can they blame you? You just loved.

As Levi thrusts further into you, the stray fringes of his undercut swaying back and forth along with your breaths running, he gives himself a chance to try and look for something he should feel with a lover. His lips slam into yours endlessly as he rummages.

The harmonious sounds of skin slapping against one another, catching of breath, and restricted grunts and moans cover the entire room, and for once, you feel less alone. The fact that he took on your pleas make you happy. He probably still feels something as well, just not enough. Not enough to stop him from leaving.

You run a hand along his muscular back, nails digging lightly as you feel him hit your good spot. He pulls away, a trail of saliva connecting your lips with his.

“Levi," you whimper. As you look at him with dazy, wanton eyes, he sees how you want more of him. He obliges by touching you everywhere, your love handles, your hair, your cheeks. You grab his jaw so that you're now holding each other's face and give him a small, weak smile. Is it pity that you feel, Levi?Your hand slides down his naked torso, index finger particularly stopping at his heart, vision darting on the same spot. Tell me, is there something there?

Though you know full well by yourself that even if it’s just pity that’s driving him to do this, you’d still gladly accept it.

To hell with dignity, you want to feel him tonight badly, even if this is nothing more than a plea of desperation.

A gasp leaves your mouth and you arch your back in fervor as he rams deeper, keeping his sensual pace at bay. He feels so good, everything feels so good, that you wouldn’t want it any other way. His eyes stay on yours, fierce gaze diving deep into the pools of your glowing orbs. It’s the kind of stare that’d make your knees tremble, and you still remember him using it on you when you first met.

He lets his hand roam around your body, fondling your breasts and tweaking your nipples, earning him a moan of pleasure. He lets his lips brush on your skin, sucking rashly on the red spot he made just a while ago to intensify it, making it last longer.

He knows just what you want, for him to embed his ownership into your body, burning into your skin. Emotions stir inside you like a tornado on the loose, you love him so much.

Levi grinds his hips down you firmly as he feels you nearing based from your shakier breathing and tighter walls. He uses his thumb to flick on your clitoris, and you transcend into a moaning mess upon feeling your orgasm building quickly in your guts.

You wish things would stay this way, wish for time to slow down, if possible, even stop. This is the last moment you could savor, because after this you know he’d leave the door right that instant, just like how easily he did it minutes ago. By that time, you can’t beg him anymore, nor can you make him stop. This is nothing but an inevitable goodbye.

He gently circles your most sensitive spot, as if you’re bound to break by any motion wilder. It’s almost totally contrary to how you both had sex before, the roughness not being there, the harsh movements, and the need to impose domination. You’re thankful he’s doing it nice and slow, just a little passionate, elongating the short time a tad more. Atleast he’s making an effort.

He was drunkening, starting from his ardent thrusts to the mere skin contact. You then feel your spasms closer, and you wrap your hands around his body for support, the brimming desire bottling inside you about to explode.

“Levi—!”

He continues moving to your will, and it takes you one last hump before an immense surge of pleasure rolls all throughout your body, to your limbs down into the tips of your fingers causing you to erupt and shake. Your trembling cavern wrap around him perfectly while you pulsate, heartbeat in exquisite sync. Momentarily, you forget the entirety. Your memories, his words, your current situation, him leaving you.

As you squirm underneath him, Levi stops to let you be and not make you feel overwhelmed from the aching sensitivity, waiting for your high to wear down before he pulls out. Earlier becoming one with one another, it’s only until then that you feel empty and lonely again.

You fall boneless, gasping for air, vision just a bit bleary. You fail to see him sit upright and buckle his belt to make off. It’s happening.

Levi glances at you to see if you’re out cold and senseless, but finds you covering your eyes with your forearm, hiding your threatening tears from his sight. You’re awake.

He mentally sighs. It’s no use. In the end, he felt nothing.

Once you’ve pulled back your tears before they can form, you uncover your face and give him a look so visibly painful no matter how much you conceal it. “You can stay with me. Even if it’s just as friends,” you mutter, voice almost inaudible, but he hears. He gently shakes his head as refusion. That’d be taking advantage of you, and he wouldn’t want to do that.

You look at Levi with worn and droopy eyes, feeling the most helpless. You couldn’t stop him. Your heart stutters vigorously from inside its rib cage as he leans forward and he kisses you. You’re dumbstruck upon feeling his pair of warm lips land flat onto your forehead. Laying back there, immobilized and unable, you couldn’t do a single thing as you watch him quickly slip away from your reach. He wears his clothes, grabs a couple of his important stuffs and finally leaves without looking back, not one time.

The sound of the door shutting echoes inside your lonesome suit, resonating repeatedly in your ears. A dry and excruciating chuckle leaves your throat as if to try and prevail over the looming desolation, bitterness seething inside your veins, crippling like venom.

How cruel. He’s that ready? And he didn’t even bother bringing with him all of his things, huh? Guess you’ll decide later on whether to throw them out or wait for him to get them.

You swear, you tried the best you could to keep it in. You were spent to the bones both mentally and emotionally, you thought you can’t weep any more.

But you cried yourself to sleep for only the heavens know how long, sobs so heavily restrained in such a way that you think he was just behind the door and might hear you. Your hiccups uncontrollable, bursting out in an explosive manner that brought you uttermost difficulty to pull air into your lungs. Months of trying to understand, same time trying to not break, your brain doesn’t understand if finally crying it all out is relieving or only becoming more unbearable.

Your resentment only fuels as you witness the morning sun start to pour into your room shortly before you drift into unconsciousness.

The next day was an even more awfully hard battle, the growing static in your heart devouring your body. Getting used to being without him, coping on your own, practicing your smile as you prepare yourself to work only to ditch it and ask for a sick leave. When you pass by a mirror, you see nothing but a wreckage. Your pain is clear as day it’s utterly impossible to forge a front or make believable excuses.

A wave of alien emotion hits you as you keenly eye the lovebite he left just above your clavicle. You touch it as if the tip of your fingers were magnetized into doing so, as if you can feel him through it. You want to think of yourself as a canvas, and the small mark as his artwork.

You look at yourself once more, gently pressing on the reddened skin. A tiny but self-assuring smile appears on your lips as you observe both the hickey and your physique. It’s surely going to take a while, but you’ll be okay.

Besides, even tattoos fade after time.

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thefanficmonster · 3 years

Text

Best Friend’s Brother

Conrad (The Dark Pictures Anthology: Man of Medan) x Reader (Male)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Fluff, Mild Angst

Summary: Having been invited to the boat trip by his best friend Julia, Y/N can’t help but wish he never accepted the invitation because now he has to deal with being stuck on a boat with the boy he’s had a crush on for years with no real way to avoid him.

Requested by @dark-pictures-until-dawn Hi hun! Thank you so much for your request, sorry to have kept you waiting for so long but here it finally is and I really hope you enjoy the read! (I used he/him pronouns but if you want them changed feel free to let me know!) Love, Vy ❤

I have no idea what I was thinking when I agreed to go on this trip. I don’t know what on God’s green Earth I was thinking but here we are now sitting on a boat, at open water with no land for miles. And I’m sitting here, face to face with him, but I’m completely frozen. Unable to say a single damn thing. Maybe that’s a good thing though, I’d probably embarrass myself if I did say something.

Let me give you a bit of backstory to how I found myself in this situation.

My parents are very close to Julia and Conrad’s family, given that our mothers used to go to high school together and have remained best friends ever since. That’s how I met the two siblings and was quick to grow a friendship with them both. Despite being Julia’s age, I found myself always gravitating towards Conrad but the girl is still my best friend - she’d probably kill me if I let her brother take that title from her. Truth be told, he could never take her title - I could never see Conrad as a best friend.

Not when my feelings towards him are anything but platonic.

No, I did not tell Julia about said feelings and no I don’t plan on telling her either. I’d never hear the end of it if I did tell her about it. She’d chew me up about it, making my romantic interest for her brother the main topic of discussion (read: teasing and mocking). Don’t get me wrong, I love Julia to death and there are never any secrets between us.

Well, there weren’t any until a few years ago when I realized my fondness for the dumbass she calls brother goes beyond just friendship and similarity. That it had more of a romantic nature that I was not prepared to have to deal with. And, in all honesty, I don’t think I’ve dealt with at all even now. I mean, it’s probably obvious thanks to the silence that’s taken over the deck of the boat where I’m currently sitting with Conrad, monitoring Alex and Julia’s dive while Fliss is tending to a seasick Brad downstairs.

“Hey Y/N, want a beer?“ When the comfortable but odd silence is broken, no one would be shocked to find it out it was done so by Conrad. I’m surprised he even managed to stay silent for so long.

“No thanks, I’ll keep the alcohol at bay until tonight when everyone’s onboard.“ It’s not a complete lie, that’s what I like about it.

You see, I’ve never got drunk with Conrad in the vicinity and I don’t wanna risk my drunk ass outing me and my silly and have neither him nor I remember it the next morning. So, to avoid getting carried with the drinking, I won’t be starting now and I’ll make sure to limit myself even tonight to three beers tops. I’m no lightweight but I’m no daredevil either.

“You’re oddly quiet.“ Conrad says when he returns with a beer in his hand, the glass bottle stained with droplets, suggesting he’s just taken it out of one of the coolers we brought. He presses the bottle to the side of his neck where he got a sunburn yesterday, some droplets trickling down his skin. He doesn’t seem to mind it as he keeps his focused gaze on me, a mildly concerned frown upon his face as he studies my expression, “Something wrong? You know you can tell me anything. That’s what best friends are for, after all.“ He smirks, putting extra emphasis on the word ‘best‘.

I laugh but I cringe inwardly. Something about calling him ‘best friend’ feels so unnatural and odd and out-of-place I can’t even describe it. I know it may sound ridiculous but if you’ve ever had a crush there’s a high chance that you can relate. “Don’t worry, if it were worth mentioning, I’d tell you.“ I blow off his concerns, using his own method against him.

He’s known to do that - sweep all his troubles under the rug and stand atop it to make sure they don’t try to escape and resurface while he’s keeping his bright smile on his face, avoiding showing any other expression. I’m no fool and neither is no one around him, at least the ones who know him well and are close to him. Us who he considers friends know that it’s not all smiles and sunshine in his life either.

Wish I could pull that rug from under him and see what’s really going on with him but not even Julia is allowed to do so, let alone me.

Thankfully though, before things could get any more awkward, Julia and Alex resurface with some rather exciting news - they went in as boyfriend and girlfriend and came back as an engaged couple.

And just like that, all thoughts surrounding Conrad were thrown out of my head. Ok, maybe not completely, but they were suppressed into some dark corner of my brain.

* * *

“You’ve got Connie worried.“ I yelp when my best friend plops her ass down next to me on the deck, her second bottle of beer half empty by now while I’m still nursing my first as though I’m trying to save more beers for the rest of the people on board. We already have plenty of beers in stock but even if we didn’t, considering the sickness he had to endure earlier, Brad isn’t drinking, leaving his share at our disposal. Therefore, Jules is quick to catch onto my slow drinking.

I tilt my bottle in her direction, “I want to avoid getting sick like Brad did, thank you very much. The last thing I’m looking forward to is kneeling by the edge of the boat, puking my guts out.“

Julia laughs, clinking her bottle against mine before taking a swig. I take one too, hoping it fuels my courage at least a tiny bit to try and lead this conversation properly, “Nah, that’s not what he meant - although, I doubt Brad’s sickness was an alcohol issue.” She shakes her head, pushing aside a few blond locks to be able to look at me better. That’s when I feel like her gaze is piercing into my soul and I wish I knew how to shield myself from that. There’s a big issue with having your crush’s sister be your best friend, especially when she has a sixth sense for when there’s something off with me. “But you have been avoiding him, don’t deny it.” My eyes widen against my will and my mouth falls open as I try to defend myself and deflect her argument, but she raises a finger to signal me to keep my thoughts to myself while she’s talking. “Did he say something inappropriate while we were gone? Just tell me, I’ll end him!”

“Relax, Jules, Conrad would never do such a thing. Especially not with someone he cares about.“ Alex interferes - God bless his soul - and takes a seat next to Julia, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

“I’ve known Connie for as long as I’ve known you, J. You should know by now that, even at the odd chance he does say something inappropriate, I have a reply ready at all times.“ I shoot her a wink in an attempt to wipe away the concerned expression on her face.

Alex contributes, “See? Nothing to worry about. Now let Y/N enjoy his beer and you enjoy yours.”

I shoot Alex a grateful smile over behind Julia’s back, subtly tilting my bottle towards him - a gesture he understands perfectly and does so in return. However, his fiancée refuses to give up the argument.

“No, no, no. There is definitely something to worry about and I’ll get it out of him if it’s the last thing I ever do.“ She narrows her eyes at me, forcing me to instinctively back away as if that’s gonna help me at all. Then, this woman pulls a 180 on me, going from an angry detective to a disappointed and betrayed friend, “Damn it, Y/N! I always tell you everything and you are just a closed book! How is that fair?!“

It may or may not be a tactic but she’s got a point - I rarely tell her things. I’m the listener of the duo and she’s the talker: she shares, I absorb the info; she’s upset, I listen and comfort her accordingly; she has something troubling her, I’m the one she shares it with. It’s rarely ever the other way around. And I can see why it bothers her.

What’s a little truth to pay her back for all the ones she’s told me? Well, the problem is that this particular truth is far from little and it would be the equivalent of descending into my own grave willingly.

It could also help you, you know?

Yeah, sure it can. Sure it can....

“Ok fine!“ I cut her off because this woman can never run out of words to use against me when she wants to.

Her fiancée is quick to give me a sympathizing look, “No, Y/N, you don’t have to...”

“No, it’s ok, Alex. I owe her this much...“ I sigh, looking at the doorway leading to the lower level of the boat where Conrad went a while ago and doesn’t seem like he’s in a hurry to return, much to my relief. I sigh, succumbing to the inevitable, “Jules, I’m only gonna say this once and no, I won’t elaborate but I need you to promise me you won’t freak the hell out. Got it?“

The blond girl rolls her eyes, “Come on Y/N, are we in middle school or something?”

Oh she’s so not ready to hear this...

“Fine, then I bet you won’t be bothered by my crush on your brother at all.“ I huff out before I can rethink the words I’d use or how I’d phrase the sentence. It just left my body as though it has been waiting to do so for a while no. That wouldn’t surprise me though, it’s been one heavy weight to carry around.

There’s a long moment of silence. Alex and I both gaze at Julia who is pulling off the most impressive poker face I’ve ever seen but I have no time to dwell on that considering I’m too busy keeping my stomach from turning completely and forcing me to throw up the small amount of food I’ve eaten and the beer I’ve had to drink. When Julia opens her mouth to talk, I raise the bottle to my lips to shut myself up and calm myself down. “The only thing that bothers me is the fact you didn’t tell me sooner.“

To say I’m flabbergasted would be an understatement. I’ve seen Julia freak out over smaller things but she’s calm about this?! I’m impressed. But then again, I shouldn’t speak too soon - this might just be the calm before the storm.

“If I knew you’d be this chill about it I wouldn’t have waited so long.“ I admit sheepishly, fidgeting with my hands now that I’ve put the bottle aside. “It’s unlike you to be this calm about something....like this.“ I cannot find the right words to describe ‘this‘ but I know she gets me and that’s a relief.

“I’m a drama queen when I wanna be and a strategic player when I have to be, Y/N, how come you don’t know that?“ She smirks at me, all self-assured and whatnot. Wish I had at least a fragment of her self-esteem. “Speaking of strategic, leave it all to me. The two of you will be together in no time.“ She nudges me in the ribs with her elbow, giving me a wink that makes my blood run cold, my eyes opening wide as plates.

“No way, J! No fucking way.“ I feverously shake my head, the idea itself making me feel so terrified and unsure like I’ve never felt before. “You won’t do anything just like I won’t do anything. He doesn’t see me that way and that’s that, no room for negotiating.“

She scoffs, “Oh please. Have you known him all his life? Have you seen him through every darn moment of his life - from being a pathetic loser in middle school to the playboy in high school? No you haven’t. Well, I have and I can say with all the certainty within me that the way he looks at you is a dead giveaway of how he feels for you. He’s had many romantic partners, and I’ve never once seen him look at them the way he looks at you, Y/N.”

I narrow my eyes at her, “You do realize you’re contradicting your own point here - he’s never looked at me the way he looks at his romantic partners means he’s never seen me as a romantic partner!”

Julia shakes her head, “Goddammit, Y/N, you’re really trying to explain my brother to me? I’m telling you, the look he gives you is a lot more meaningful, a lot more special, unlike any look he’s ever given anyone.” The girl scans my face, looking for something I’m not sure she’ll find. “He adores you, Y/N. Perhaps even more than you.”

The words have no time to sink in an be processed by my spasming brain when I hear a familiar voice come from my right, “Wait, what?! What did I miss?”

If Conrad doesn’t have the best timing ever, I don’t know who does...

“Oh dear brother, we’ve been missing out on A LOT.“ Julia says, using every bit of insinuation she can to get me on-edge.

Conrad’s confused gaze darts between the three of us: Alex, who’s still in the processing phase, Julia who’s smiling widely and me who’s downright terrified. I now wish I had another beer bottle handy. It’d keep me occupied if nothing else.

Suddenly, the engaged couple arise from their seats and begin walking away - not without Julia flashing Conrad and I a big grin that says ‘Have fun, you two!’ as though she doesn’t know how much I’m sweating right now.

Conrad however doesn’t seem to notice the teasing undertones as he takes the seat opposite me, tightly holding onto his beer bottle when his gaze meets mine. There’s a smirk on his face but I don’t see even a trace of it in his eyes, leading me to believe it’s ingenuine and forced which is something I never thought I’d see on Connie’s face - a fake smile. It’s almost disturbing to witness.

“Well, well, well, has our boy scout found himself a significant other? Sorry if I’m far from the mark, I’m just shooting in the dark here. I didn’t get to hear much so I might be really inaccurate.“

I shake my head, “No, no, you’re pretty close actually.“ I was prepared to deny it to my grave but here I am confessing like a fool, “It’s a potential significant other. To be fair, there’s no potential whatsoever but a boy can dream.“

He quirks up a curious brow, “Why’d you be so sure?”

Well fuck, I didn’t think it that far through.

I attempt to play it off cool, shrugging my shoulder nonchalantly, “I’m not his type at all. I just know he doesn’t see me the way I see him. Hell, I’m not even sure he’s into guys and even....“

Conrad doesn’t let me finish though, shutting my up with his lips pressed against mine. I can’t recall when he closed the distance between us, I can’t even remember seeing him get up from his spot on the bench. Were my eyes closed? I have no clue, all I know is that they’re shut now and I’m afraid that this will all turn out to be a dream if I open them.

Therefore, I keep them shut even after we pull away, our faces still remaining inches away from one another.

“You still think he doesn’t like guys?“ The cocky fucker asks in a mumble, chuckling slightly.

I should probably feel timid, embarrassed or nervous or anything else that would fit well in this situation but all I feel is relief and all I can do is tilt my head back and laugh my heart out at the one thought that pops into my head:

I may have been the last person to know I had a crush on Conrad

Connie doesn’t allow me to spiral any further. He instead takes a gentle hold of the back of my neck, bringing me in for another kiss.

Man, is our story a cliché though - the story of how a dumbass (me) fell in love with his best friend’s brother.

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nightowlfandom · 3 years

Text

Bully! Park Jimin- I’m Your Devil (DIRRRRTTYY)

So...I got a new computer and I have no clue how to screenshot on it as of now...and tbh I don’t feel like figuring out how. SO I’m gonna be experimenting with some layouts but until then you just have these annoying announcements.

Anyways, ANON ASKS 🧑🏿‍🎤 🧑🏿‍🎤 🧑🏿‍🎤 (you know who you are wink wink)

may I request a really aggressive schoolbully!jimin / sadistic!jimin smut inspired by the songs daddy issues, into it, and the hills :)

Y’all some masochists but I ain’t mad.

Just know ya worth and if anyone treats you like this in real life, punch them in the balls. That being said, This is also LOOOONG. I didn’t plan for it to be but yeah. ALSO I GOT YOUR OTHER ASK SO I GOT CHU. I’m not sure if this is good but I hope I did you justice.

Reader who isn’t a virgin, really mean bully man, more foreplay than actual smut lol sorry, touch of diet-angst

Leggo.

...

“Okay class, what do you think the author was trying to say when she was describing her relationship with Damien?”

You sat at your desk, chin propped up in your hand as you gazed off longingly into space. This was one of the rare times you decided to pay attention because your class was reading your favorite book. “The Young Devil” (Completely made up lol).

“She’s obviously a broken woman if she thinks Damien is ever gonna change his ways. She’s a stiff.” a comment made you practically fall forward. You turned your head to find the culprit of who said such a thing about your favorite character. “Anyways, she’s too safe. She couldn’t handle his issues.”

“Well maybe if Damien made an effort to open himself up, Belle wouldn’t have to pry so hard.” another girl rolled her eyes. “Men always think women can’t handle what they throw when in reality we take the heat for your dumb asses.”

“Interesting conversation. Y/N, what do you think?” the teacher took note that you were paying more attention and turned her sights on you. “What do you think about the dynamic between Damien and Belle?”

You cursed yourself for looking too interested. You hated speaking. “I...Um.” you opened your mouth and closed it again, unsure of what to say. “I think Damien’s refusal to allow Belle to see the other side of him not only puts their mental connection at risk, but physical as well.” you replied.

“What do you mean physical?” she egged you on to elaborate. “As in sex?”

“W-well, yes and no.” you shrugged. “Belle prides herself on building connection through touch. She can’t have sex with Damien because she doesn’t feel loved by him. To him sex is just a thing you do. He gets his pleasure from bullying her, that’s his high.” you explained. “She claims she doesn’t care but if she didn’t, she wouldn’t spend her time wishing he was different...or something.” you played with your hands, staring down at your fingers.

The teacher stared at you before a smile broke out on her face. “Excellent analysis, Y/N!” she clapped her hands together. You returned the smile with the tiny bit of confidence that built up inside you. “Yes, Jimin did you have something you wanted to add?”

You turned your head to find the always mouthy Park Jimin lazily raising his hand. “She likes being bullied by him.” he said as if it was a matter of fact.

“Excuse you?” you couldn’t help but speak out. Suddenly the entire class was quiet. They had never heard you speak so abruptly before. “What the hell do you mean she likes it.”

“She wouldn’t put up with it if she didn’t like it.” he raised an eyebrow. “She could just tell him to leave her alone, get lost or something.”

“How in the hell would Belle enjoy someone like Damien embarrassing her every minute he gets. Are we reading the same book?” you sat up straight crossing your arms.

“Now this is getting interesting.” the teacher mumbled.

“You can tell by her actions. The rush of her blood when she blushes, the way she stammers over her words, the way she listens to his every word...much like you are right now, princess.” he winked. His smug grin alone made your blood boil.

“Oh and I suppose his possessive ways are warranted in your eyes too aren’t they.” you scoffed.

“Maybe, I mean she even says herself she feels cared about.” he shrugged.

“Because Damien is a manipulative dickhead!” you snapped. “He obviously wants her around because she’s the only girl who gives a shit about his life and he’d feel lost without her.” you snarled. “Then again I would expect this point of view from a man who changes bitches like he changes his underwear.” (A/N we don’t hate women here).

“Language Miss. L/N.” the teacher spoke. You rolled your eyes, glaring at Jimin one last time before facing forward. The whole class was silent.

“Nice one Y/N” a girl on your opposite side nudges you.

“Not bad for a quiet girl.” a boy piped up.

...

As classes were let out for the day you wordlessly avoided the looks you got from your other classmates. You walked down the halls, holding your books tightly to your chest.

“Oi, Hey L/N!”

You weren’t sure if the sound of Jimin’s voice made you wanna speed up or slow down. It didn’t matter because he went as far as to run and stop right in front of you.

“Um..What?” you looked up at him.

“Oh, not excited to see me?” he scoffed with a sadistic smile. You didn’t know what he was planning but you didn’t like it. “Way to try and debate me in class today, who knew you had a mouth on you.”

“I was just answering the teachers question..I don’t want any trouble..” you clutched your books even tighter. Before he could reply a girl ran up, practically attaching herself to him.

“JIMMY YOU HAVE DANCE PRACTICE!” she practically screeched. “Why are you talking to her?”

“Oh...Y/N here was-” he paused. “Just confessing her undying love for me!”

“What! No I wasn’t!” you tried to deny, but it was too late. Everyone who was around heard him. “I don’t have a crush on you!” You felt your face heart up.

“Oh Y/N, You don’t have to hide it! Why else would you speak to me passionately in class today.” his sick grin never left his face. You could tell this was his revenge for embarrassing him in class. “You were telling me all about how you couldn’t sleep another night without telling me. How you want me in more ways than one.”

He spoke loud enough so others could hear.

“That’s not true!” you snapped. You were trembling. Humiliation filled your body and was overflowing, much like the tears of embarrassment you couldn’t fight anymore. “I’m not in love with you.”

“Oh Y/N, you don’t have to hide it anymore. I know everything. The love letters, the staring-”

“What?!”

But it was too late, people were already giggling and staring at you with pity. You took one last look at Jimin, who was already walking away, gleefully accepting the high fives from the pigs who dared to say ‘Nice score.’

“Are you alright, Y/N?’ a girl came up to you, putting her hand on your shoulder. “Should we go to the headmaster?”

You didn’t answer, you just ran. You ran out the school, unknowingly into the pouring rain. It seemed the sky matched your mood today. You let out all the tears, not caring who saw or who looked at you as if you had lost your mind. Your house was far, but you didn’t care about that either. In that moment you felt as helpless as the character you loved dearly, Belle.

...

You ignored everyone the next day, even your small group of lunch buddies. You worked alone, you sat alone at lunch, and by the time free period had rolled around, you had opted to hide. However, just as you prepared yourself to leave, who else but Jimin to stopped you in the middle of the halls.

“Well if it isn’t my little admirer!” Jimin spoke loud enough to capture the attention of those around you. He ‘accidentally’ slapped your books out of your hands. “Oh, I’m sorry Y/N...Go ahead, pick those up.”

Without another word you knelt down, only to have him kick one of your books to the side. “What’s this! A diary!”

A brown and black leather bound hardcover book sat at his feet. You instantly scrambled to get it, but he had managed to get his hands on it. “Isn’t this interesting!”

“Jimin please don’t-!” you stood up, forgetting about your textbooks.

“Dear friend,-” he cleared his throat dramatically as he flipped through the pages of your diary.

Dear journal,

My life is nothing like stories I read about all the time. Each and every night I’d wish for my handsome devil to come. Come and take me away from here, away from the hate, away from the commotion, away from Park fucking Jimin. I don’t know what I’ve done to make him hate me the way he does. I just wish he’d be nice to me...just once. But that is one wish I know won’t come true. He’s just a sadistic asshole who bullies me because he knows I won’t say a word.

So why do i-

You snatched the book out of his hands before he could read any more, this time you were seething with rage. “If you EVER touch my property again I will- I’ll-”

“You’ll do what princess?” he smiled cheekily. “You won’t do a thing to me and we both know it...you’re just like that Belle chick. That handsome devil of yours is just a fever dream, get over it-.”

“Maybe, but I’d rather live in a dream than talk to Satan himself.” you snapped. “You’re just the devil.” you whimpered. “Why do I even put up with you?” you sighed. Jimin suddenly stepped forward. You mentally prepared yourself for the worst.

You felt his lips touch the side of your mouth, had you moved just a bit more, he would have been on your lips. “Because you love me.”

....

“For this project, I will be assigning you partners

Oh shit...please no. God, no. Dear lord if anyone can hear-

“Alex and Jackson. Lisa and Mark, Y/N and Jimin-”

“Fuck.” you mouthed. You dared looked next to you. Jimin was playfully leaning his cheek against the palm of his hand. He winked at you, taking his bottom lip between his teeth.

“You will be doing book reports on The Young Devil. You choose the topic, this is due in two weeks. I recommend you get together outside of school.”

As class let out, Jimin followed you. “Sooo, partner! When am I coming over?”

“When pigs fly.” you answered sourly.

“Saturday at 7:00 you said? I’ll be there!” he threw an arm around your waist. “See you there, babe.”

“You don’t even know my address!” you called after him as he walked off. That probably wasn’t the best idea because everyone was staring at you again. “NO! BECAUSE WE HAVE A PROJECT....Nevermind.” you groaned.

... (Saturday 7:30 PM)

“You’re late.” you seethed as you pulled open the door. Jimin sauntered in and you slammed the door.

Soon it was silent between you two. Before he could open his mouth, you left him standing there to bolt up the stairs. Jimin, being himself followed you. To be honest, you were already starting without him.

“Do you live alone?” he asked, noticing how empty your home was.

“I do.” you replied curtly. “My parents travel around a lot, so I never see them.” you shrugged. “They help me out though.”

“So mommy and daddy take care of everything-”

“You don’t know me.” you cut him off. You sat down at your desk and pulled up your notes, proceeding to work. “They help me because they care...unlike some people.” you scoffed. “Shut up so I can concentrate.”

“I thought this was a partner thing.” you heard your bed creak. “I think we should put out minds...maybe bodies together and think of a concept.”

“I already have one.” you cut him off.

“Enlighten me.”

“If Damien hadn’t changed by the end of the book, would Belle still be with him.” you mused aloud.

“Probably.”

“....” you didn’t reply, because you didn’t want to admit he was right. Probably the only time you’d ever agree with him on anything.

“What? Still mad at me for reading your little diary?” he asked. Once again, you ignored him. Suddenly, your chair was turned around abruptly and you were now staring at a red faced Jimin. “I don’t like being ignored, doll.”

He was so close, your noses were practically touching. You froze up, afraid to move.

“Why are you so mean?” you found yourself asking. “What did I ever do to you?”

“Other than refuse to drop that good girl act of yours? We’re a dysfunctional two peas in a pod. I’m an asshole and you’re too much of a stiff to stop me.”

“Act?” you looked confused. “I don’t have an act.” you attempted to defend yourself.

“Hm...that face you make is kind of hot.” he smirked. He slid his fingertips under your chin. Your vision went blurry, unable to process everything. You absent-mindedly began playing with the hem of your sweater.

(SMUT AHEAD, PROCEED WITH CAUTION)

“What is your deal!?” you found yourself getting angry as you stood up. Jimin stepped back looking startled. “You’re messing with my fucking head and I’ve had enough! Jimin what did I ever do to you?” you felt it again. Humiliation. “I’m not asking you to be my friend but the least you could do is be nice to me!”

“I don’t do nice, sweetheart. Like you said, I’m the devil.” he walked up to you. “Your blush is like a drug to me.” he laughed. “It’s cute.” he rested his hands on either side of your face. “Fuck, I kinda wanna kiss you right now. Do you wanna kiss me?”

YES!

“Yes, I mean no! I mean yes- I mean maybe, I mean fuck!”

Not even a second later, Jimin’s lips were over yours. Despite his bullying, his kiss was gentle. You practically melted. He protectively wrapped an arm around your waist. Your thoughts on the project were long gone. Jimin couldn’t figure out why he felt so protective of you all of a sudden, but thoughts ran through his head. Thoughts that if anyone else kissed you, touched, you even looked your way...he’d go ballistic.

And fuck, you were a great kisser. He held the back of your head with his free hand, guiding you into his touch, which you followed perfectly. His tongue slid through the gap in your mouth, yearning to taste you more. You felt lightheaded as if your heart was about to give out. He pulled away, resting his forehead against yours.

“Maybe I’m so cruel because I don’t know how to act around you.” he whispered. “Maybe I’m trying to be the devil you want so bad.” you could see a flash of sadness in his eyes, which was quickly replaced with lust. “I wanna be your devil, Y/N...”

He kissed you again, this time his warm hands slithered under your clothes. You were by no means a virgin, but the way you felt made you feel shy and exposed. Jimin walked you back towards your bed and practically threw you on the plush surface while he rid himself of his shirt. Your bodies practically melted together, bodies meeting in a sweaty mass of limbs that explored one another.

Be fumbled with your pants, almost tearing them off you. He gave you a sadistic smile before ghosting his lips over both your thighs. Your legs shook, trying to keep them steady.

“Have you ever...done anything with anyone?” he asked.

“Once, but nothing special.” you admitted. “It was straight to the point.” you shrugged.

“Then I guess I have nothing to compete against.” he bit his lips. “You smell so good here.” he shuddered. “I wanna-”

He yanked down your panties next. His lips ghosted over your slit, pressing feather light kisses against you.

You held your breath, unable to register what was going on. His fingers met your clit, sliding his fingers through your slickness. Before you could say another word, Jimin licked a stripe up your slit. You bucked your hips, only to be held down. He sucked harshly at your clit before playing with your little bud with his tongue.

“F-fuh-” you couldn’t even muster up the words as Jimin played with you.

“Fuck Y/N.” he groaned. You felt his fingers slid inside of you, coating his fingers in your water. “I don’t know what’s hotter, the look on your face or the way your-”

“D-don’t say it!” you cut him off. “I’m warning you!”

“What?” you could just see she shit-eating grin on his face. “You mean pussy? The way this pussy takes my fingers so well?” (Now from the top, make it drop- I’ll shut up)

He abruptly removed his fingers which made your back arch and lurch upwards. You sat up on his elbows only to witness Jimin rid himself on his pants and boxers. Your eyes widened when you saw his hardness. You couldn’t look away.

“See something you like?” his voice made you snap out of it. He bit his lip with a grin. He grabbed your legs and aligned himself with you, teasing the hell out of your entrance, just barely touching you with his length. “Am I your devil, Y/N?”

“God, yes.” you couldn’t fight it anymore.

Slowly, he slid in, groaning at the feel of you around his dick. “Shit Y/N...How the hell am I gonna move when you’re so t-tight. I won’t last 10 seconds.” he whimpered. He slowly thrust again, your juices creating a deep echo in the room. “Hah...Ungh...f-fu” he planted his hands on the bed, one either side of your head. “Y/N...You don’t know what you do to me.”

“J-jimin.” you mirrored his voice, wrapping your arms around his neck. “P-please?”

That was all the motivation he needed to start moving.

Your moans and yells echoes through the room, the clapping sound of flesh hitting flesh bounced off the walls. Sweat kept your bodies practically glues together. His fingers moved everywhere. Grabbing your sweater that for some reason was still on, grabbing your legs to pull you back into him. Your face to move your hair out of the way so he could witness the euphoria written shamelessly on your face. His jaw went slack and he felt himself getting to that part, and he could tell you were close too.

You were first, practically convulsing under him, screams of his name escaping your lungs.

“ARGH, FUCK!” He followed suit and immediately removed himself from you, only to spray himself...all over your sweater and legs. He felt forward, practically shaking against you. He messily kissed you, not bothering to think about neatness as his tongue invaded your mouth for the umpteenth time.

“Mind if I crash here tonight?” he laughed as he plopped next to you.

“Sure.” you breathlessly replied. “Project can wait till tomorrow.”

As you drifted off to sleep, Jimin shimmied out of bed and walked over to the open window. He felt the breeze on his skin and closed his eyes. “Please.” He whispered. “I want to treat her well...don’t let me fuck it up.” He silently wished before joining you in bed again, protectively wrapping his arms around you. “I’ll do anything for you, Y/N...I’m your devil....”

...

Cheesy ending I know but what did ya think?!

260 notes · View notes

wannabemobwife · 3 years

Text

Guns, Glamour, and Goodfellas - Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Sucker for Pain

Dad!Mob!Tom Holland x Mom!Mob!Reader

Pairings: Tom Holland x Reader, Rosie Holland x Henry Osterfield

Warnings: Guns (its in the title lol), grief, a minor mention of blood, fighting, always angst (what I consider angst)

Words: 4.1K

Author note: Totally cried while writing this. Feel free to leave comments or message me directly your feelings while reading the chapter. Always love hearing from you guys.

Chapter 5: Sucker for Pain

Words: 4.1K

Word of Charlotte’s death had spread like wildfire, especially at school. Only Rosie was attending the past fews days. Parker set to join her in two days time, after the funeral, he was scared of what lied ahead. Parker was discharged from the hospital a few days ago, under strict instructions to rest. He started to go a little stir crazy, watching the days pass.

Most of the student’s attended the funeral. Charlotte’s demise was widely publicized which made Parker’s blood boil. No one knew her like Parker did. Who Charlotte actually was the complete opposite of the persona she put on in public and at school. Charlotte was secretly funny and enjoyed really cheesy corny jokes. Her sense of humor was one of things that made Parker fall in love with her.

All the Hollands attended. You, Tom, Rosie, and Parker, and hoped to pay your respects. Parker was exhausted, he had been going through the stages of grief. How could his life get so screwed in a matter of a few weeks. A couple weeks ago, he was a kid planning his promposal for his girlfriend and now he is a protégé of the biggest mob in London who was about to bury his girlfriend.

This was the final stage, the one he was dreading the most, acceptance. He didn’t want to let her go. Charlotte changed his world for the better. She was the first person he ever loved and loved him in return.

The denial didn’t last long. It was unfathomable how she no longer existed. How the world wouldn’t be blessed with her beautiful smile anymore. Or her corny sense of humor and gracious presence. How could someone so perfect just leave the world so suddenly.

Bargaining followed next, coupled with anger. Parker was angry at the world, God, himself, and the bastards that killed her. If they had only driven home when he wanted to, she would still be here. If he hadn’t gotten grounded and not overslept and cleaned up quick enough. If he hadn’t thrown that stupid party. If his dad never gave him an ultimatum. If he never turned 16. Even if he never existed in the first place, Charlotte would still be alive.

There are 5 stages of grief as if you move on from one to the next but no, they stick with people. Especially, depression and anger. How does anyone ever really get over death. Losing someone you love is greatest pain ever felt. Someone you held and protected. Losing Charlotte, in that moment Parker wasn’t good enough. Not enough to protect her or love her.

Bringing us up to date, acceptance. He wasn’t ready to say goodbye but since when did he start getting what he wanted. Parker stood like a statue as he watched Charlotte’s casket lower in to the ground. He knew he had to be strong not just for himself, but for everyone else, especially Charlotte’s parents. At the reception, Parker tried to speak to them but, he didn’t know what to say. How could he lie to them saying it was an accident when in reality he was the reason.

“You have some real nerve showing up here,” Mr. Owens said as Tom walked up to the grieving parents. “I was so sorry to hear about Charlotte, Mrs. Owens,” Tom explained. “You daft prick, you were there. You could’ve protected her,” screamed Mrs. Owens to Parker.

“Mrs. Owens, I just came to offer my condol—“ Parker tried to say.

“Fuck your condolences!” She yelled, throwing her daiquiri straight on Parker. Coating him, from head to toe, in a very potent alcoholic drink.

“I think what my son is trying to explain is that if you need anything, money or a favor, it would be our pleasure. Our family business has some important ties.” Tom exclaimed, hoping to bring them some peace. “You and your son end lives. That’s your family business. I want no part of it. Now if you don’t mind, please get out of my fucking way.” Mrs. Owens said, pushing her way past Tom.

“You people have too many strings. I just want my baby girl back, and you can’t do that,” screamed Mrs. Owens as she left the premises.

“Sir, you want me to take care of her?” asked William, Tom’s capo. “Leave her alone, she’s grieving. Parker come on, let’s go home and get you cleaned up,” Tom explained.

“She’s right. If it weren’t for me Charlotte would still be alive.” Parker said solemnly. Tom hated seeing his son like this, it was eating him up inside. Tom couldn’t do anything to stop it, it was up to Parker to face his inner demons.

The Holland household was starting to return to normalcy, at least what they called normalcy. Parker refused to leave his room for awhile. Staff and you would bring food up to his room each meal and take the untouched one from before. He was a shell of a person after the night. All the while Parker was getting over Charlotte, Rosie was getting under someone new.

Henry had been coming over frequently for two reasons. To comfort Parker in his time of need and to be with Rosie. Their love for each other blossomed rather quickly. Rosie was not one for big romantic gestures, but made an exception from Henry.

The day had come where Parker was to return to school. How could face all of them with the judgements and accusations. Charlotte’s death shook everyone to their very core, everyone was taking the news differently. It wasn’t common for the school community to lose on of their own. Maybe a teacher but never a student.

There were a multitude of mourners that ranged from the fake asses who say they knew her but didn’t, her former conquests who only saw her as a good fuck and her actual friends who were devastated. Posters were hung up and there were candles, teddy bears and “We miss you cards,” displayed all over her locker.

You drove them to school that morning, since Parker was still grounded. Arriving at school, all voices ceased to exist as the black Rolls Royce pulled up. Out jumped Parker and Rosie and all eyes shifted to them as they walked through the halls.

“Glad to see you are back Mr. Holland. You missed a few projects, you can make them up at a later time,” Ms. Erikson, Parker’s chemistry teacher, said. Parker just nodded in response.

Walking to his seat, he perfectly heard all the rumors being spread or was he supposed to. “I heard he was the one who killed her.” “I heard they were both at a gang bang” “I heard she died in his arms”. How could people be so insensitive to make snap judgements like that.

Charlotte’s parents’ opted for the cause of her death to remain hidden. But they were teenagers, they couldn’t help but, gossip. Rumors are just rumors, Parker would tell himself. They weren’t entirely wrong. He was the reason, he was there when it happened, and he held her as she died. Being in those hollowed halls was brutal. Parker was basically the new social pariah.

The student’s weren’t oblivious to the Holland family. They knew what most people knew. That Tom Holland owned one of the largest exporting companies in Europe, Holland Exportation and Luxuries. And they knew not to mess with the Hollands.

Once class was over, now came the hard work. Tom called it “Mobster Bootcamp,” Parker was currently taking lessons with his dad to carry on the legacy. Tom had a few tricks of the trade up his sleeve desperately wanting to pass on to his son. They had met in the Tom’s office to begin.

“Lesson 1: Always wear black or white.” Tom started with as Parker took notes, like the perfect student he is.

With one, blood will alter it completely and the other remains unchanged. It was a common theme, with the Holland legacy, wearing black or white. It was sleek, dangerous and classy all at the same time.

“The one big perk is that blood doesn’t show up on black fabric.”

“Lesson 2: Wives must be treated with respect, girlfriends are fair game."

“If you’re a good man, the only describable difference between a wife and girlfriend is that one has an unnecessary symbol on her ring finger. They both mean the same and don’t you forget it,” Tom concluded.

And Tom was a good man. Never has Tom even thought about cheating on you. Porn was pointless and strip clubs bored him. Why throw away the best thing that ever happened to him, you.

“Lesson 3: Someone brings a knife, you bring a gun” “Never be without a weapon. Anything can become a weapon with the right skill set, but always be prepared.”

Tom was a big fan of improvisation. Sometimes using what he had on hand, like his tie. Strangling wasn’t his most favorite method of killing but he liked to mix it up.

“Also find finesse in your kills. Your mother is a big believer in gun to the head, execution style. Me on the other hand, I prefer to roughen up a guy a bit, but you will eventually develop an M.O. (modus operandi). Another lesson, make sure you don’t always use the same M.O. mix it up a bit, otherwise they could trace it back to you,” Tom elaborated.

“That bring me to my next lesson.”

“Lesson 4: Blackmail is your best friend.”

Tom has had a few close calls in his day. Everything about running a mob had to be sneaky. Bodies couldn’t be found by any random person, they needed to be cleaned up and dealt with. The witness’s in a meeting were sworn into secrecy, he had enough dirt on them that he could get someone to fake their death if need be. Cops were never a problem with the Hollands. They were his puppets and he was the puppet master.

“Killing someone in a public place you risk being caught by an innocent bystander. Then one things leads to another and you are cleaning up two bodies instead of one.That’s why I have the warehouse and the police Captain in my pocket. Just remember everyone’s got a price,” Tom explained.

“Lesson 5: Have as little weaknesses as possible.”

Tom hated referring to the one’s he loved as weakness but it was the truth. He couldn’t be weak if he desired to be top dog. The moment you and Tom started a family, his liabilities increased. From that day, his only goal was to protect you and the twins.

“I would never call your mother a weakness, but I would die for her. Also for you and your sister. This makes me vulnerable. In the past, people have put her in danger situations for leverage against me.” Tom said, rubbing his temples. Parker just nodded in return. A long silence ensued.

“Dad, are you okay?” Parker questioned.

“Yeah. I’m sorry son, I have more for you but, just have a lot on my mind,” Tom apologized. “It’s alright. Any luck with finding Charlotte’s killer?” Parker asked, his voice tainted with hope.

“No, but I do have a meeting at the warehouse with a contact would you like to tag along?”

“How could I say no,” Parker said, kind of excitedly. They made their way out of the mansion and drove to the warehouse. Parker had never been here before. It was dark and cold looking. The walls were pure metal sheets and the floor had stains of blood scattered everywhere. “Good to see you, Jazz,” Tom said walking up to the mysterious woman tied to a chair. Jasmine Ramsey, a contract killer Tom was friends with. A little more than friends at one time, predating you.

“Fuck you, Tom. What’d I do to be graced with your presence,” questioned Jazz. “Nothing to piss me off, yet,” Tom chuckled. “Then why the fuck am I here,” she said a little peeved.

“My son, here, needs to ask you a few questions,” Tom said, pointing towards Parker who stood in the corner. “Aww a baby Holland. Following in your daddy’s footsteps, huh?” “Shut it, slag,” Parker yelled as he melded his fist with her jaw.

“Jesus. What the fuck was that for?” Jazz screeched. “Woah. Sorry Jazz, should’ve told him you were an old friend,” Tom says, holding his hands up in defense. “Oh, I’m so sorry miss. Could I get you some ice or something?” Parker exclaimed, surprised that he just punched an assassin.

“Its fine didn’t hurt that bad. Gotta work on your punch,” she said adjusting her jaw. “Really. Hurt like a bitch to me” Parker whispered, holding his aching hand. Blood began to seep out of the broken skin, staining his knuckles red. “Tommy you gotta tell your son to grow tougher skin” Jazz exclaimed. “What the fuck were you thinking Parker?” Tom said, grabbing Parker by the collar of his polo. “Sorry I just assumed with her being tied up and all” Parker exclaimed. “That’s how we do business boy. You’ll soon learn”Jazz explained with a shit-eating grin across her face.

“Anyway, I need info on a murder at The Luxe on the 11th. A young girl was involved.” Tom turned to Jazz.

“Oh I heard about that, poor girl, she was pretty too. What’s it to you, Holland?”

“That’s not important,” Tom hissed. “She was my girlfriend,” Parker interrupted.

“Sorry lover boy my hands are tied, literally,” Jazz said, rolling her eyes. “If I untie you will you talk?” Tom replied.

“Yes, you know me. I don’t appreciate being threatened.” “Alright Jazz, just spit it out.” Tom said as Parker untied her restraints. “I was downtown at pub, called Harmon’s. Heard of it?” Jazz expressed. “Yeah, a big hotspot for Shaw’s men,” Tom said, nodding his head as he followed along. “Well, I was searching for my target and overheard some men saying “It’s going down tonight, word from the Merchant is that he should be there, with his little whore.”” “Fuck. The Merchant. Where have I heard that?” Tom said, puzzled. “Short for Merchant of Death. Surely, you’ve heard the old mob tales.” Jazz elaborated.

“Of course.”

“Well if it is him, I’d stop looking you don’t want to find him,” she warned. “Please, everyone knows I’m fucking top dog,” Tom asserted. “Don’t get your panties in a bunch, Tommy. You are now, but he used to be and if he is returning, watch your back. All he craves is power. If that’s it I’ll be on my way.” Jazz explained, asking for permission to leave. “Yes of course, Jazz. Thanks.” Tom muttered. “Give my love to your wife,” she said, pressing a cheek to his kiss as she strutted out. “Seriously dad?” Parker asked with a side glare. “Parker stop it. I love your mother and I would never cheat on her. Jazz and I are just friends.” Tom explained creating a “I’m watching you” look on Parker’s face.

“Jesus, one punch ripped open your knuckles. You're the one telling mom. Now come on or we’ll be late for dinner,” Tom said, inspecting Parker’s hand. Being the new mob boss was in Parker’s blood, but you were always against it. You loved the mob and being part of it but you wanted your kids to have a choice, unlike you and Tom.

Meanwhile at the manor, you and Rosie were making dinner. You appreciated all the staff to clean and cook but, enjoyed the satisfaction when doing it yourself. Secretly loving your independence. While you were dating Tom, you would try to ditch your security much to Tom’s dismay. You were a junkie for thrills.

Rosie and your relationship is what ever mother desired. You treated Rosie like a daughter first and a best friend second. As long as Rosie’s life was never put in danger you would keep her secrets. The major one being Henry.

“Hey honey. Since it’s just us here, how are things going with Henry?” You asked curiously. “Wait, where’s dad and Parker?” Rosie questioned cause nobody else knew. “Taking care of some business. Now spill, I want all the details.” “Well things are going really great. We kissed.” “Really? When? Where?” You have always wanted to have this conversation with her daughter. “At the hospital when Parker was hurt. I had a panic attack and Henry comforted me. He is really great, mom. I don’t know I’ve just never felt this way before,” she explained. Rosie had boyfriends in the past, never long enough for anything serious to perspire.

“Roo if you’re ready to take that step, I’m here for you. You can tell me anything.”

“I’m okay, right now, considering”

“Considering what? Did something happen? Has Henry been pressuring you?” You grew concerned of your daughter. “No. God no, nothing like that. On the night of the party, I got drunk and remember that boy Connor?”

“Yes, go on.” “Well he… he tried to rape me.” Rosie murmured, trying not to cry. “What? Roo why didn’t you tell me,” you whispered, your heart breaking on behalf of Rosie. “Henry was there to stop it and I just want to forget about.” “Roo, I’m so sorry you had to deal with this. I’m always here for you ok? I love you so much baby.” “Love you too, mom” Rosie replied. Their conversation soon quickly ended as Tom and Parker came barging through the front door and Rosie excused her self to the restroom.

“Ooo, something smells good. What is my beautiful wife cooking?” Tom asked, coming up behind you and kissing your neck.

“The only thing she knows how to cook, spaghetti and meatballs,” you replied, jokingly.

“How was your guy’s day?” You asked. “Great, Parker really showed them,” Tom said, kissing your forehead and pulling you into a warm embrace.

“Jesus Parker, does it hurt?” you questioned as he showed her his battle scars.

“What the fuck happened to your hand?” Rosie said, walking back into the kitchen. “Oh nothing,” Parker said, trying to change the subject. Rosie just gave him a puzzling glare as she dropped the subject.

“Dinner’s ready,” you announced as they all made their way to the dining room. There they sat at the long table, Tom at the head of course and you to the right of him. You all talked about your day, of course, avoiding any mob talk.

“So what really happened to your hand” Rosie asserted breaking the silence. “Drop it. Will you?” Parker barked annoyed at her persistence. “Fine,” she said staring at her plate until her phone buzzed. That noise put a smile across her face because it was always the same person, Henry. “Roo, you know the rules. No phones at dinner,” you remarked. “I know mom, just give me one second,” replied Rosie, holding up a finger. “Rosie, your mother asked you to put it down. Who’s got you so giddy anyway.” Tom said, defending you.

“Oh nothing” Rosie muttered, putting her phone down. “Ten bucks it’s a boy” Tom said directed towards you. “Deal” you responded, shaking his hand. He brought her hand to his lips and pressed a chaste kiss, theirs loving way of shaking hands.

“I’m done. Dinner was great, thanks mom. May I be excused?” Parker asked and Tom nodded in response. Rosie cornered him on his way upstairs. It had been a while since they had talked. Sibling to sibling. Twin to twin. They tried not to keep secrets from each other. He hadn’t of told her about the mob and she hadn’t told him of her and Henry.

“Now tell me what the fuck you did to your hand,” Rosie barked, cornering him.

“Why the fuck do you want to know so bad?” Parker responded. “Umm, I’m your sister.”

“Rosie I don’t have time for your bullshit,” Parker yelled. “What the fuck happened? There’s something you aren’t telling me,” Rosie accused.

“Dad wants me to be the next him.” Parker explained. “I’m not following. What like run the company?” Rosie asked, confused by his statement.

“No. Dad is a mobster. He runs a mob and he wants me to succeed him.” “What the fuck? When did this happen? Why the fuck haven’t you told me?” Rosie exclaimed.

“Our birthday. This is what I was trying to tell you at the party!” Parker yelling causing Rosie to yell back. “Sorry, I was a little preoccupied and so were you!” Rosie hinting at Charlotte. “Don’t turn this on me. What the fuck are you doing with Henry, by the way? You think I don’t see the two of you sneaking around.” Parker quipped, in reality he had never seen their antics. “Nothing, it’s none of your business,” Rosie said, shying away from him. “Of course, it’s my business he’s my best friend.” “Well he is mine too and the world doesn’t revolve around you. If you weren’t so busy breaking curfew and sneaking out, you would see that Henry is really good to me, ever since that night.” Rosie explained stopping herself before she said something she wasn’t ready to acknowledge herself.

“Rosie, what happened?” Parker asked noticing her quick change in demeanor.

“You won’t care,” Rosie quipped.

“Try me,” Parker said softly.

“That night… someone slipped something in my drink and tried to take advantage of me, but Henry stopped it.” Rosie explained, trying to avoid the brute of Parker’s rage.

“Who? Tell me who right fucking now!”

“Connor.”

“I’m gonna kill him” “No, Henry already took care of it. You already have enough blood on your hands,” Rosie chuckled, surprised Parker cared that much. “Thanks,” he said with sarcasm.

“Roo, I’m so sorry. I should’ve known.” “It’s ok. I’m just trying to put it behind me”

“So what you are a mobster now?” “One in training. I need you to know I’m doing this for one reason only, to avenge Charlotte, okay. Not looking to kill for sport like mom and dad.”

Rosie’s suspicions grew over the years that her parents did enjoy living above the law. It didn’t bother her, she actually hoped the mantle would be passed on to her. She had a more fiery spirit than Parker, he was just a big softie on the inside much like his father. Appearances can be deceiving.

Tom was currently in his office, finishing up work for the night. Buzz, buzz, buzz. The last person he thought would call him, his dad.

“So are you going to say thanks?” asked Dom.

“For what? I don’t time for your antics, dad. A hit was hired on Parker and I have to figure out who did it.” Tom sighed. He was frustrated he was getting no where, who was the Merchant of Death. “Umm, hello. Like I said you’re welcome,” Dom quipped.

“You fucking mean that was you.”

“Duh, told you he needed a push in the right direction. I wasn’t the one to pull the trigger but I knew where he was.” “I have a crushed kid over here wanting revenge on the bastards who killed his girlfriend.” “Problem solved, glad he is joining the family business.” Dom said and hung up. How the fuck was Tom going to explain to Parker that his grandpa arranged the hit?

“FUCK!!” Tom screamed smashing everything in sight.

Meanwhile, Parker made his way to the kitchen for a glass of water when he saw you sitting on the couch, consumed in your book.

“Hey mom?” Parker asked, needing to get something off his chest. “Yeah, honey,” you responded, drawing your eyes away from your book. “I need to tell you something.”

“I’m listening… wait what the fuck was that. Hold that thought.” You hesitated when you heard a large crash come from Tom’s office.

“Let me go check on your father,” you said, getting up from the couch. Parker couldn’t help but be curious. He followed her before she closed the door and listened in, pressing his ear against the door.

“Tommy, what happened?” You queried. “It was him,” Tom spoke with an unchanging expression. “Who, Carson?” “No, Dom. He arranged the hit,” Tom said.

Parker’s heart sunk to his stomach. His girlfriend was dead because of his family. He really did kill her.

Maybe he wasn’t the one who pulled the trigger but she was seen with him. As far as he is concerned it painted a huge red target on her back. What kind of life was he born into? He never wanted any of this and now all he is, is this.

Guns, Glamour, and Goodfellas Masterlist

Taglist: @thenoddingbunny-blog @adriannauni @dummiesshort

#tom holland #tom holland imagines #tom holland series #tom holland fanfic #tom holland mob au #tom holland au #tom holland x reader #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland blurb #mob!tom #mob tom #mob!tom holland #dad!mob!tom holland #mob!tom x mob!reader #mob!tom x reader #mob!tom holland x reader #dad!mob!tom

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captainrexforever · 3 years

Text

Trials and Tribulations 2/2

Rating: T

Word count: ~6k

Summary: The reader discovers that she has formed a force bond with her Mandalorian companion. This has some unforeseen complications during the events at the Imperial refinery on Morak.

Warnings: angst, fluff, canon typical violence, more Dad! Fett, awkward! Din, use of in-universe curse words

Note: Part 2 at last! There are quite a few pov. changes, so I hope that they don’t interrupt the flow of the story too much. Happy reading, and I hope you enjoy!

Pt. 1

After settling into the cockpit alongside Fett, the only thing you can do is wait for Fennec’s signal, but that doesn’t mean you have to be bored.

“Is it too much to ask for a tour of the flight controls?”

“I’m surprised it took you this long to ask.” He speaks honestly.

You can only chuckle in response and shrug. “What can I say, I’m not used to holding a conversation with my crewmate.”

“I take it Mando doesn’t talk much.”

His eyes search your face, and although you attempt to hold his gaze, your eyes fall to the floor as you answer. “No, he doesn’t.”

Fett only nods in response, and you have a sudden urge to change the subject. “So, I noticed that you wear your helmet while flying, even though all the screens are displayed on the console.”

He must note the change in topic, but he doesn’t bring it up. “Yes, I tied all the tracking technology into the visor of my helmet. That way if I have to aim at something while in flight, I can observe it through the viewport and follow the object with my eyes, as if aiming a real blaster.”

“Woah, that’s really cool.”

“Indeed. It’s an idea my father often shared with me, although he didn’t get the chance to implement the changes. I was finally able to make the alterations myself.” There’s a little bit of nostalgia in his voice, and you wonder if you should feel bad for bringing up a potentially sensitive topic. “Perhaps I can let you try it on the retrieval run.” Boba continues.

“Oh, no, no, no, maybe later, thank you. I don’t want to jeopardize the mission with my novice flying skills.”

“Is that so? You project the aura of a competent pilot.”

“Yes, but it’s been a while since I’ve sat behind the controls of a ship.”

Fett raises a hand to his chin, as if stroking a non-existent beard. “So you didn’t fly Mando’s ship?” It’s definitely a question, but it comes off more like a statement.

“Well, I...I usually left that to Mando, I felt like it was almost a form of relaxation for him and I didn’t want to take that away.”

“Can I give you some advice?”

That throws you off a little.

“Sure.”

“A Mandalorian’s ship is a precious possession, not as important to them as beskar or their code, but still. A ship represents a Mandalorian’s freedom and individuality. If you were allowed to live within that ship for what I estimate to be several months, there was something else going on.”

It feels like someone lodged their fist into your chest and squeezed all the air out of your lungs. Surely he couldn’t mean...“What, what do you mean? Are you saying he was desperate for help no matter the cost?”

Fett wants to bang his head on the console, then bang it against your head to knock some sense into you. No wonder you and the Mandalorian get along so well, you’re both absolutely clueless.

“Do you know that he carried you up the ramp of this ship last week when you were on death’s door, demanding medical attention from me?” Your eyes widen in response. “When we eventually realized you were losing too much blood, his first instinct was to infiltrate a medical station to obtain the necessary blood samples for a transfusion. Lucky for him, I had some sequencing instruments aboard, and we were able to identify your blood type. By some miracle, you and he happen to possess the same blood.” The atmosphere is becoming more tense by the second, and you can only sit there as Fett recounts the events surrounding your recent injuries. “He stayed by your side during the entire two day flight to Nevarro, refusing to eat or sleep. With the amount of time he spent providing blood to the transfusion system, I was sure he would pass out from blood loss before we arrived.” A choked sound leaves your throat. “The second we landed, he was on his feet, clutching onto your body as he carried you to the Marshal’s office.”

He lets his words sink in for a moment as he pins you underneath his gaze once again. “I have fought countless battles, lost many comrades, and seen fellow warriors suffer horrible injuries. But I have never seen a man so stricken with grief and despair at the thought of losing a fellow comrade-in-arms. It’s obvious you mean much more to him than either of you realize.”

He notices that you’re in shock after taking in all of that information, and he opens his mouth to say one last thing. “If you want to take a seat in the hold and let yourself process all of that, I’ll let you know when I receive the cue to take off.”

The sentence is uttered with kindness, and you can only nod, thankful for his understanding. In a second you’re slipping down the ladder to the main hold of the ship.

Kriff.

Tears bite at the corners of your eyes as you suppress a sniffle with your forearm. That damned Mandalorian has been holding out on you. It all makes sense now. The affection you sensed earlier, the brief moments where you often notice his gaze linger for a millisecond too long. He cares about you. The thought has you releasing a muffled sob into your palms, why has he never told you? You would have welcomed his affection and returned it a thousand fold, if he had ever offered you the chance.

A spike of fear races up your spine suddenly, and you tense in response. There is a familiar tickling sensation in the back of your mind, and you realize that Din is unintentionally projecting on you. After what happened earlier, you’re sure that you are the last person he wants to communicate with. His fear washes over you again, this time accompanied by panic, and you know that something has gone terribly wrong. Feelings be damned, you need to know what is going on down there. A firm nudge against his thought process grants your mind access to his, and the singular pulsing thought that envelops your brain gives you an immediate headache.

“This is for the kid. The kid needs me, I can do this for him. I can do this for the kid.”

“Din, what’s going on?”

“You need to leave right now.”

“Din, what’s going on, let me help.”

There is no response. You’re so frustrated right now that you want to punch him, and you must be projecting because he allows you to see one more thought.

You gasp in disbelief and shock.

“Din...no. You can’t take your helmet off.”

“This is for the kid, Y/n. There is no other way.”

“Your creed, your way. What will you do after you take it off?”

“I...I don’t know. This is the only way I can save him.”

A tear rolls down your cheek.

“I understand.” Then you pull yourself from his mind.

Even faced with death, while you cried over his limp body, he had refused to remove his helmet.

No, you don’t understand at all.

By the time Mayfeld and Mando board the ship, you’re seated in the cockpit once again, desperately trying to keep a firm hold on your emotions. The ship rocks with the force of an explosion as Boba makes a hasty retreat.

“We got company. Hang on.” He announces.

The ship swerves to the side as he maneuvers away from the blasts of two tie fighters, and you watch in fascination as the scope on his helmet automatically drops into place in front of his visor.

“These Imperial pilots can’t hit a damn thing.” He complains to you.

“Isn’t that a good thing for us?” You ask.

“I suppose. It isn’t much fun though.”

Wow. Maybe he and Din aren’t so different after all, or perhaps all Mandalorians are just crazy.

“You wanted to learn about the controls, right? Flip that gold switch I’m pointing to.” He requests.

After grasping a hold of the pilot seat to keep yourself upright, you reach for the control panel and flip the switch.

“Excellent, now take my helmet.” He removes it and holds it out to you. “Let me know when the two fighters are within 80 meters of each other.”

You take the helmet eagerly, desperate for some type of combat action to block out your overwhelming emotions. The visor remains dark until the helmet thunks into place around your head, then it bursts into life. There are so many readings on the display that you are overwhelmed for a moment.

“Look at the top right corner of the HUD, it’ll show you the close-range scans and a distance measurement for the two targets.”

“Got it. The display measures the distance at 100 meters.”

“Alright, just wait a second. Standard flight path protocol will have them grouping up soon.”

Sure enough, the number plunges down to 90, then 85, then 82. Just a little bit closer…“Now!”

A light flashes somewhere on the HUD as a click filters through the helmet’s speakers. A glance at the top right corner of the display reveals a projectile moving towards the two tie fighters, and you grin at the resulting explosion. There is still a satisfied smile on your face when you hand the helmet back to Fett.

“Nice shot. And thank you.” You hope that he understands your referring both to the advice he shared earlier, as well as his recent actions.

He nods. “Any time, vod.”

“Vod?”

“It’s Mando’a, the closest term in Basic is ‘comrade’.”

That spikes your interest and there is a burning question on the tip of your tongue, but you leave it for later.

“I’m gonna set the ship down, you might want to take a seat.” Fett breaks the silence.

You scramble to follow his advice, and once the landing cycle is complete he rises from his chair. “Just a moment.” He elaborates, as he descends down the ladder.

His absence leaves you with a quiet moment to reflect, and you hold your fisted hands out so you can list some facts and organize your frazzled thoughts. Ok, you tell yourself as you take a deep breath.

One, Din cares about you.

Two, you care about Din.

Three, he cares for the child like a son.

Four...what’s another fact? Dank farrik!

Four, you repeat as you rack your brain. Ah yes, Din’s Creed forbids him from revealing his face to another being.

Five, Din obviously knew he had no choice but to risk breaking his code. The choice was to either reveal his face, or abandon the child to a fate that could be worse than death.

Six. Well, now that you think about it, you are being a little bit petty. You would also be willing to risk anything, if it was the only way to save the kid. Now that you’ve gone and said it, you feel a little ashamed. Poor Din doesn’t deserve to deal with the loss of his child and your foul mood at the same time.

You decide to continue your list.

Seven, Boba Fett’s ship is cool as hell.

Eight, Din is kinda hot. Wait, what?! Hold on a second.

Eight, Din is...alright fine. He’s pretty hot.

Nine, He does have very nice thighs.

Ten, He’s really attractive when he’s fighting.

Eleven, He’s...Wait, you only have ten fingers!

You really need to get yourself under control, this is completely out of line.

“Let’s hold tight up here for a moment, Mando’s putting on his kit.”

You let out an undignified squeak, caught entirely by surprise. What you said earlier was becoming more and more true by the second, Mando and Boba weren’t so different after all.

Meanwhile in the small fresher, Mando is in the process of attaching his beskar chestplate when you start projectingly very loudly. A blush rises to his cheeks as you approach the end of your mental list. He has always hoped that you felt some semblance of affection towards him, but the thoughts you are currently entertaining are on a whole new level.

After the events in the refinery, he’s still a little shaken, but he feels he owes you an explanation for his recent behavior. Once the last piece of Beskar is attached to his figure, he prepares to ascend the ladder to the cockpit. But, when he approaches, he can distinctly make out your voice, as well as Fett’s.

“There are two words that I sometimes hear Mando use, and I think that they are from Mando’a. Would you mind translating them?”

“Why don’t you ask him?”

“I did once. He didn’t answer.”

“What are they?”

“‘Verd’ and ‘ika’.”

“Interesting.” He strokes at his chin again. “It’s actually one word, verd’ika.” (Little warrior)

“Oh. What does it mean?”

“It means…”

Oh no, Din thinks. I need to break this up right now.

“What’s the status on Cara and Fennec?” He blurts out. Affection and amusement fill him when he notices you jump slightly in your seat at his sudden appearance.

“They should be approaching our position at any moment now.”

Din nods. He realizes he’s awkwardly lingering at the base of the ladder now, but he can’t let Fett share that translation with you. Not yet. Not until he is able to explain himself.

“Fett, could you provide me with the materials to replace the cooling core in my blaster? All my spare parts and tools were on my ship.”

Boba stares him down. He knows exactly what Din is trying to do. Din sighs, he is far too fatigued, mentally and emotionally, to deal with this right now. He’s just about to give up when Fett gives him a sharp nod, plops his helmet over his head, and rises from his chair before descending into the hull. Din notices him shoot you an apologetic look, which you respond to with a tight-lipped smile.

Now that at least one disaster has been avoided, Din turns to follow through with his made-up task. A voice crackles through the speakers in his helmet, and he startles when he recognizes Fett’s voice. He hasn’t heard a fellow Mandalorian’s voice transmit through his helmet’s audio channel since the destruction of the covert.

“I know what you did back there.” Fett states.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I meant in the refinery.” Fett clarifies.

Din tenses in response and whirls around to face Fett again. How could he know?

“I was monitoring all Imperial communications from inside the refinery as a precaution, just in case there was a complication. The Imperial terminal in the base uploaded a facial scan that wasn’t registered to the computer’s database right after you two arrived.”

Din’s hands clench into fists, if Fett saw the scan…

“Don’t worry Mando, I never saw the image. But, I did have to perform a fair bit of technological jargon to approve the scan. And, I made sure the image was deleted from the Imperial database immediately after the files were downloaded.”

Din’s figure visibly relaxes, those were just two more favors he owed Fett.

“You know, you owe your companion a lot of explanations. Or should I say, gar verd’ika.” (Your little warrior)

If Din didn’t feel so exhausted he would put up a bigger fight, but he can’t help the way he immediately gives in to Fett’s unspoken inquiry.

“She is...important to me, I just don’t know how to tell her.”

“Well you’re going to have to do better than that. Think about it, then come talk to me. We will figure it out, as brothers.”

Din nods his approval.

“Are you two done staring into each other’s eyes? Because you’re kind of freaking me out.”

Mayfeld.

“Shut up Mayfeld.” Boba and Din huff in unison as they shoot him two identical helmeted glares.

Later, after Mayfeld is relieved from the crew, Boba and Din agree that they should fly to the nearest friendly planet so that they can restock their food stores and ammunition. While the ship is in hyperspace, Din takes a seat to prepare the message he plans to transmit to Moff Gideon. It only takes him a moment to agree on the wording. He decides to repeat the same lines that Moff Gideon arrogantly delivered on Nevarro several months ago, with a couple key differences. The message will serve as a warning, an omen of what is to come.

The last line of the speech suddenly gives him an idea. Perhaps he knows what to say to you after all.

Now that Mayfeld is gone, (you don’t even bother to ask why you are leaving him behind) you are free to sit down in the hold once again. But, after spending so much time in the cockpit, you find yourself wanting to stay. Boba Fett still sits in the pilot seat, wearing his helmet as he pilots the ship. Mando sits in the furthest corner of the hold, facing the clear viewport, as he and Cara discuss their next steps towards retrieving the child. You assume that Fennec is also down below, most likely passing the time by polishing her beloved rifle.

Fett breaks the comfortable silence that reigns over the cockpit. “As I recall, I promised you a chance to fly. Even though we’re in hyperspace right now, it’s good practice to just sit in front of the controls and familiarize yourself.”

“Are you sure?” You’re secretly jumping up and down with excitement, but you don’t want to annoy Fett right as he’s offering you the opportunity to fly his ship.

“I’m quite certain.” He stands up, offering you the seat.

You sit down immediately, running your fingers lovingly over the controls. It’s been a long time since you’ve been behind the console of a ship as unique as this one. After you’re done gawking, you look over to Fett, only to notice that he’s staring off into space. At least, you assume he’s staring off into space, you can’t really tell while he is wearing the helmet. He looks over to you after a second and removes his helmet, offering it to you for the second time that day.

“Are you sure I need the helmet?” Please say yes.

“Go ahead, you might as well be familiar with all the aspects of the in-flight instruments.”

You offer him a beaming smile before settling the beskar over your head. “I’ll be right back.” You hear him say, along with the sounds of him descending the ladder. Odd, you think, he seemed to be in quite a hurry.

As Din discusses his plan with Cara, he hears Fett’s voice crackle through the speaker in his helmet. “You ready to have that discussion? Your companion just announced she’s heading to the fresher, so we have time for a brief chat in the cockpit.”

“I’ll be there shortly.” Din responds.

Din continues his conversation with Cara, and when he notices a blur make its way down the ladder from the cockpit, he politely excuses himself.

He makes his way towards the ladder, the echo of his feet meeting the rungs causing nerves to bubble to life in his chest. One foot meets the durasteel flooring of the cockpit, then the other follows. He stands there awkwardly for a second, the back of the pilot chair and Fett’s helmet in clear view, then abruptly spills his thoughts.

“I know what to say.” He clears his throat as his voice cracks a little.

Fennec stands from her seat, affectionately patting her rifle as she props it against the side of the chair. As she passes by the supply closet on her way to the refresher, she notices Fett warily peering out from the doorway.

“What are you doing?”

Boba Fett, the famed Boba Fett, actually jumps at her words, hushing her as he continues to peer in the direction of the cockpit. She wrinkles her brow in confusion and glances towards the cockpit as well, wondering what exactly she should be watching for.

A few moments later, Cara notices that there is not a soul in sight, and she rises to her feet, determined to figure out where everyone has disappeared to. A quick sweep of the hull doesn’t reveal a sign of Mando or Fennec, so she decides to check the hallway on the other side of the hold. As she rounds the corner she notices both Fennec and Fett peering out of the doorway of what appears to be a supply closet.

Her eyes narrow as she stares them down. “What---”

Both Fennec and Fett shush her immediately, their gaze fixed upon the cockpit. Thoroughly bewildered, she too looks towards the cockpit, worried that something has gone awry.

Meanwhile, you are sitting in the cockpit, trying to scrape your jaw off of the floor as you examine each of the control panels. This really is one unique ship. Just as you are taking a closer look at the targeting instruments, a voice breaks through your thoughts.

“I know what to say to her now, Fett. I will tell her that she means everything to me, that she means more to me than I can ever put into words.”

You are completely dumbfounded. Does Mando know who he just said that to?

Fett...that sneaky little bastard...he set you two up, didn’t he.

Well, you are not one to look a gift taun-taun in the mouth, so you take off the helmet, stand up, turn around, and level your gaze with Mando’s.

“The feeling’s mutual, vod.” (Comrade)

He panics, because one second he’s standing in the cockpit, and the next he’s disappeared from sight. The clang of beskar meeting durasteel, along with a grunt of pain, echoes through the hold as you drop the helmet and scramble into motion.

You rush to the top of the ladder, staring down at Din’s splayed out form in shock. A snicker breaks the silence and your gaze flies to the hallway where your other three companions are smothering laughter into the palms of their hands. You can’t help yourself, the ridiculous sight has you falling into a fit of giggles as well.

“This is not funny!” Din’s voice echoes through your head.

The abruptness of his statement startles you, and one second you’re standing on firm durasteel, the next you’re falling through the air as you too plummet towards the flooring at the base of the ladder. Except you don’t hit the floor. You hit two warm arms that absorb most of your fall, then a beskar-clad chest.

A pained grunt escapes Din’s helmet.

“You’re heavy.”

“Yeah? Well you are busted, Mando.”

“Busted?” It sounds like he is still straining for breath.

“Busted.”

More laughter peals through the recycled air of the hold, and you and Din turn simultaneously to fix all three of your crewmates with a glare.

“You see what you’ve done.”

“It’s not my fault you're clumsy, Din.”

“Clumsy? You’re the one who fell on top of me!”

“You shouldn’t scare me all the time!”

“Are you two gonna get up, or are you just gonna lay there on the floor?”

“Cara!” You exclaim, your cheeks bursting into flames.

“I can’t wait till this mission is over, you all need some serious help.” Fennec grumbles, but she’s hiding a grin as she stomps to her chair, retrieves her rifle-just a precaution, she mumbles-then enters the fresher.

As for Fett, he has a shit-eating grin on his face, and you can’t help but notice that he looks like a proud father.

“Well, Mando, I think we solved your problem.” His grin falters a little. “Or, at least, one of your problems.”

Fett shoots you a wink as he steps over your prone form and ascends the ladder. “Good luck with that one, you’re gonna need it.”

Cara also walks past your sprawled out bodies, taking a seat as she pointedly looks away from you and out the viewport.

You look down at Mando, a soft smile overcoming your features when you notice he’s been staring at you. One of the hands that was used to brace your fall is now settled on the small of your back and it holds you firmly to his chest. The other hovers in the air beside your left ear, hesitating, and you give it a glance out of the corner of your eye. You so desperately want him to touch you with that hand, just like you’ve always imagined. So you give him a little nudge.

“Could you brush that piece of hair out of my eye for me?” It’s practically a whisper as you refrain from shattering this tender moment.

A shaky exhale rattles from beneath his helmet, and then his hand moves slowly to fulfill your request. Seconds drag by like hours...and then his touch finally greets your skin. With a tenderness that is so shocking it hurts (has he thought about this too?) the tips of four fingers meet your forehead, sliding down your temple oh so slowly until they glide through your hair, finally curling around the shell of your ear as any stray strands are tucked away.

You shut your eyes for a moment, every nerve ending fizzling out in complete bliss as you bask in the warmth of his touch. Neither of you move for a long while, and you would think he’d fallen asleep if not for the incessant chatter that hums through your mind.

“You’re smiling.” His voice surfaces through the haze of thoughts.

“I know. I can feel you, your voice, your thoughts...I thought you shut me out.”

“Never.”

You open your eyes and he is still in the same position as before. His hand curled behind your left ear, his visor staring up into your face, and the hand on your back still radiating the same warmth. After another shaky breath, he drags his hand down the side of your face, curls it around the back of your neck, then slides it upward over the base of your skull. Each movement is drawn out, as if he’s moving in slow motion. You both know that he’s only trying to prolong this moment, along with each gesture, for as long as he possibly can.

It’s your turn to sigh when he bends your head down, closing the distance between your faces so that your forehead rests against the top of his helmet. Your palms, that had previously been supporting your weight, abandon the floor to splay themselves over Din’s beskar chestplate instead. The closeness is suffocating in the most beautiful way, and you’re sure that if he wasn’t wearing a helmet you would be begging for a kiss by now.

“You’re thinking very loudly.”

His voice has you blushing, but you can’t bring yourself to feel ashamed.

“I can’t help it. You’re just too damn hot to handle.” It’s meant to tease him, but the response you receive is the complete opposite of what you expect.

“Yeah, especially when I’m fighting, am I right?”

There is a dramatic pause while your brain stalls to a grinding halt. “Were you listening earlier, Din? Why the nerve--”

He backpedals immediately, trying to reconcile his previous statement before you decide to jump up and clock him in the head. “Do you know that we’ve been kissing this whole time.”

Huh? Kissing? Your lips haven’t even touched! He must have hit his head harder than you thought.

“Are you coherent right now?”

He chuckles fondly, the sound echoing through your mind, and you’re sure it's the most beautiful sound you have ever heard. “This gesture, our foreheads touching...it’s called a keldabe kiss. Since my people do not remove their helmets, that is how we show affection to our loved ones.”

“Oh.” You can feel his nerves pulsing through your mind. “It’s perfect.” A searing warmth blossoms throughout your whole body, and you know it is the result of his happiness. “Will you tell me--”

Fennec emerges from the fresher and shocks you two out of your stupor. “Are you two going to stop gazing into each other’s eyes and take a seat?”

Fennec and Cara both share a chuckle at the way you and Din jump at the sudden intrusion. You are too immersed in your lovey-dovey emotions to even glare at them so you just huff in response. A glance towards Din’s helmet doesn’t reveal much about his current thought process, so you rely on your bond and just let yourself feel.

The emotions he possesses are so powerful they are blinding, so you guide yourself to his loudest most current thoughts.

“...how’d I get so lucky? I wonder if she will let me kiss her again.”

You just shake your head fondly. “Come on Romeo, let’s go sit down.” You offer a hand once you are standing, and he grumbles, eventually taking it even though you both know he requires zero assistance to lift himself from the floor. He doesn’t release you though, even when he reaches his seat and settles into the chair. Just as you’re about to turn and return to your own seat, he tugs on that hand and sends you barreling into his lap. A wide-eyed look of shock is the only expression you can manage as you fumble to keep yourself on his lap without tumbling to the floor.

And now he’s laughing into your bond again...great.

“Stop laughing and help me, you buffoon!”

Din quells his chuckling and finally moves to help you right your figure. His hands attempt to settle you into his embrace, but he can’t help but notice that you still seem uncomfortable. He looks to Cara for help, only to realize that her gaze is still directed out the viewport. Instead, he looks to Fennec, and the gaze that she eventually gives him screams you’ve got to be kidding me. He glares at her from beneath the helmet, raising a hand in desperation as he gestures towards you. Fennec glares back, and then mimics the pose of a droid, with her arms out, legs limp, and an impassive gaze on her face. Then she gestures back towards him. He gets the hint immediately, blushing red beneath the helmet, and nods his thanks. She just waves him off and continues to polish her rifle.

For the first time in his adult life, the Mandalorian slouches in his seat. His spine rounds as he curls himself around your form, providing a protective shell around your body. Both hands guide you into a sideways position, similar to a wedding carry-he blushes even harder at that realization-and then he tucks your head into the crook between his helmet and chestplate, where his cloak will cushion your head. You give him a sleepy smile and snuggle closer to his armored chest, looping an arm around his neck as you get comfortable.

“So will you tell me what it means?” You attempt again.

“What does what mean?”

“Verd’ika.”

“It means ‘little warrior’.”

The smile that overtakes your face is almost blinding. You fall asleep with the echo of that thought in your head, and wake up to the gentle snores of a certain Mandalorian. There’s an incessant needling in the back of your sleep-addled brain. There’s no way Din would have fallen asleep with the rest of the crew watching. You blink your eyes open, and panic a little bit when you realize that hold is quite a bit darker than earlier. There are a couple blinking lights from the cockpit that shed some light on the room. And after a second, you scan the area only to realize that there is no one else in sight.

Abruptly, your back twitches in pain and you realize that Mando’s vambrace is digging into your back. You shift slightly, trying to adjust your position without leaving your warm perch. Din mumbles in his sleep, shifting a little bit at your movements, and it causes the hand you slung behind his neck earlier to thwack him rather violently in the back of the head. He shoots to a standing position immediately, and you squeak, clutching onto him like a koala as he nearly sends you hurtling towards the ground.

His blaster is drawn in a second, and your sluggish mind struggles to connect with him through your bond in order to calm his frantic motions. He must break out of his trance before you are able to form a connection, because he suddenly settles back down into the chair with a tired exhale.

“Sorry, you startled me.” He apologizes.

“It’s ok.”

He adjusts you into a more comfortable position, fussing as he tucks you back into his chest. You just hum against his neck, basking in the warmth that he produces. Surprisingly, the beskar itself is also warm, and you note that it must maintain the same temperature as his body.

“We landed a little while ago. The others left to enjoy a night on the town, they won’t be back for several hours.”

“Mmm.”

“Are you even awake?”

“Yes.” You respond as you peel an eye open. The adorable way Din is tilting his helmet to look at your face sends a wave of affection blossoming through your chest. But, as cute as he looks right now, you really want to be asleep.

“Since we have a moment, I want to talk about what happened today.”

That has your attention, and you’re fully awake in seconds.

“I know that we disagreed on a couple things today. And, we have both made implications about our feelings, but I want to lay everything out on the table so it is one hundred percent clear.”

You nod in agreement.

“You and the child will always be the first priority to me. No matter what. Mandalorians value their clan, their family, above all else. You and the kid are my family.” He cuts himself off, voice cracking a little as he tries to continue.

You rush to fill the silence, eager to reassure him of your own feelings. “You and the kid are my family too Din, and I would not have it any other way. I know that you didn’t give me the mission earlier because you were worried about me. And, I know that you had to remove your helmet because there was no other way to locate the little one. I am sorry I didn’t support your decisions. I was bitter and hurt, but I won’t make that mistake again.”

A sound, like that of a choked sob, escapes Din and your heart squeezes in pain. Before you can finish, he cuts you off.

“I’m sorry I made you feel that way ner verd’ika. (My little warrior) I am so sorry, I didn’t even think about how you would feel.”

“No! Don’t apologize, I am the one apologizing to you.”

You are both laughing through your tears, and you clutch at his hands with both of yours.

“I love you Din, I love you so much, and I will always support any decision you make.”

“Ner verd’ika, ni kar'tayli gar darasuum. (My little warrior, I love you) You hold my heart in your hands.”

At that admission, you feel a burning desire to kiss him, but you settle for resting your forehead against his helmet instead.

“I seem to recall that you promised to ‘kick my ass’ once we landed.”

“Stop it, you’re ruining the moment.” You rebuke him as you shove half-heartedly at his chest.

“I think you’re wimping out, ner verd’ika. (My little warrior) You don’t think you can beat me anymore?”

How dare he tease you. The nerve of this man.

“No, I’ll still kick your ass anyways. I hope you won’t be too embarrassed when I school you in front of everyone else tomorrow.” A smug smirk stretches across your face as you finish speaking.

“You’re quite feisty, my dear.”

“Shut up, you love it.”

He grumbles beneath the helmet, neither denying nor acknowledging your statement.

“I never realized you had such a dirty mouth.” The words are directed through your bond, and you can’t help but notice that the tone is a little suggestive. His words have your face erupting into flames.

Your Mandalorian has some real nerve.

Ending Notes: I am actually really happy with how this turned out. Multi-chapter stories are a little intimidating and I admire all of you writers that can juggle several multi-chapter stories at once. I hope that this did the whole un-masking/face reveal thing justice while still staying as true to Din’s character as possible. ALSO, if I messed up any of the Mandalorian culture/lore stuff, please let me know.

#the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #mando x reader #mando x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin fluff #mando reader fluff #mando fluff #mando fic #captainrexforever writes

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rebelrebels · 3 years

Text

draco malfoy blurb , gn reader , fluff and angst — mentions of death , masterlist here

listen to moon river by lena horne. esp during the yule ball recap. this became unintentionally kind of dark towards the end.

your bag lays next to your bed, in which you fell asleep with your arm above your head and the side of your head barely reaching your pillow, spilling its contents out onto the floor. you were so tired from celebrating and bad parties that you just fell onto your bed dramatically and slept soundly.

you wake up from pansy shaking your shoulders violently and her throwing your things back into your bag loudly. you groan at the sounds of bottles full of unknown potions clinking and swishing in the glass vials you stole from the potions room.

"today's the day!" she says enthusiastically. she's in her yule ball dress from months ago for the sentiment, which you helped clean thoroughly because of the dirt from all the times she stepped on the hem.

you merely grunt and shift your position so you lie on your side and stare at the empty bed next to yours as pansy dances around the room in her flowy dress effortlessly.

"this is insane. in a good way," you poke at the ice sculpture carefully, averting your attention from the students waltzing on the dance floor with infatuated smiles plastered all over their faces to the elaborate decorations.

"let's get out of here."

you turn your head to draco with lowered eyebrows out of confusion. "to...where? and why?"

"don't know. just somewhere. do you trust me?"

you respond with a short, "i do."

"so come with me."

"alright. lead the way."

you and draco manage to sneak out of the elegant ball that none of you belonged at by the skin of your teeth. you can't help but feel free as you run into the dark night with draco aimlessly as the snow crunches from underneath yours and his feet.

your heart was pounding.

it was pounding so loud you could hear it ringing in your ears, beat after beat after beat.

the hogwarts castle was still like a secret claude monet painting, beautifully dark with all the secrets it held. the taste of burnt coffee, which draco offered while he was unaware it was burnt and you were too guilty to refuse it, lingered on your tongue as you laughed. he asked you why you were laughing, and you only responded with, "why does anyone need a reason to laugh? you're only 17 once."

"y/n. are you coming?"

your reverie stops abruptly. "huh?"

"to the graduation ceremony?"

"i wouldn't exactly call it a ceremony."

"well, i don't know what else to call it. coming?"

"i guess so."

you slip your robes on and follow pansy into the great hall, where she sits next to draco and you scoot over next to her. dumbledore is seated at the front of all of the tables, where all the professors are seated on his left and right. you notice professor snape is missing, but you pretend not to notice.

was it normal to have shortness of breath around your friend?

you always said "yes" to yourself during the days leading up to graduation. you tricked yourself into believing it was completely normal and maybe everyone felt the way you did about him. wow, were you stupid, you realize. but it felt right.

"we could be at a party right now. i mean, we are graduating in a week." you're seated outside of the bathroom and its half-open door. you light a lavender scented candle you dug out from your bag and place it next to you. "but instead, you're taking a bath in the dark."

draco was busy settling into the warm water of the bathroom's tub when the lights went out. you lighted some candles for him to place around the room.

"i don't like parties."

"draco."

you whip your head around when you hear no answer and see water overflowing onto the bathroom floor. you repeat, "draco?" and decide to go inside before some very careful and panicked thinking.

you see draco with his head under the water, eyes closed, and if he weren't in an overflowing bathtub you'd think he was sleeping. but you fish him out by the shoulders rather forcefully and close your eyes halfway so you don't see him completely naked and vulnerable, which probably isn't something you should be worrying about.

"draco!"

he opens his eyes, gasping loudly and brushing his drenched hair back and shivering. "is something wrong?"

"what's wrong is that i thought you died!"

"i just...went to sleep. accidentally."

"oh, that's a load of—"

"—and i think that's enough. help me get out?"

you grudgingly help him get out, still with your eyes half-open as you help him dress, navigating your way through the wet bathroom and extinguished lavender candles. you end up smelling like a mixture of smoke and grass (and also end up not sleeping at all out of anxiety).

draco looks paler than ever with dark circles under his eyes and unkempt platinum blonde hair. when pansy leaves to go to the gryffindor table, you scoot over next to him and rest your hand on top of his. he pulls away immediately, which only worries you more.

you get up, shoes clacking against the floor as you rush outside. you can sense him following you and you finally stop in front of the tall wheat field. they all sway with the light breeze, which reminds you of pansy earlier.

"y/n. we need to talk."

"does it have to be on the day we leave hogwarts forever?"

"now or never."

"fine."

you turn around, facing draco. you can't help but pity him.

"i'm in love with you, y/n."

and at that exact moment, streamers and banners popped out of nowhere at the hogwarts castle and you could hear dumdbledore's booming voice, the loud clapping and laughing of other seventh years, teachers congratulating them.

and you finally feel at peace.

#draco malfoy #draco lucius malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x fem!reader #draco malfoy x female reader #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy au #draco malfoy reader insert #draco malfoy requests #draco malfoy rp #draco malfoy x gryffindor!reader #draco malfoy x ravenclaw!reader #draco malfoy x slytherin!reader #draco malfoy x hufflepuff!reader #draco malfoy headcanon #draco malfoy blurb #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy fanfiction

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marvels-writings · 4 years

Text

Love is Trust

Maria Hill Masterlist

Requested by Anon: 22, 34, 35 with Maria hill. Preferably from hills POV where r breaks up with her. maybe a few time skips in there. heavy angst

22: “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I’m never going to do this again!”

34: “I don’t want to fight anymore.”

35:“Our time here is over.”

Word Count: 2,559 (long and angsty)

A/N: I could have written a simple, 1k word fic for this. But no, my imagination had to go wild and make me spend an entire two days writing this, was it worth it? Of course.

Daydreaming is an almost thing. You never know what different reality you might imagine. For Maria, a reality she was imagining was better than the one she was living in. Being distracted from that reality almost made her angry until she noticed who had brought her out of the daydream.

Natasha ran her thumb over the back of her palm as it rested on the coffee table. Green eyes scanned her features sympathetically. The brunette had no doubt she could see the exhaustion and hurt written on her face.

The sunlight from the windows in the kitchen hit her back, keeping her warm. But she still shivered, feeling cold all the time. Chest heavy, almost like she was carrying it around like a weight.

“What’s going on?” Natasha asked, pulling over a chair and sitting down in front of her, elbows leaning on the table. The redhead’s hand had slipped out of hers, waiting for her to speak.

“As if you don’t know.” Maria scoffed, leaning back in her chair, the hoodie sleeves over her hands. The hoodie she wore, navy blue and oversized, still smelled like you. It was almost the last thing she had left to remind her of you, except for the ring in the hoodie pocket.

“I only know what you’ve told me,” Natasha stated, watching the brunette and sighing. Maria didn’t respond, staring into the space ahead of her blankly.

“Which is that you and Y/n decided to end your relationship after almost 3 years.”

Three years, three years often sounded like a long time. It was a long time for most people, but it felt so short. The three years of happiness and being with you all over. Maybe if she could turn back time, it would be easier than trying to make things right.

“Natasha, this isn’t your business,” Maria said, inhaling sharply and beginning to get up, the rin gin her pocket heavier than ever. The redhead glared at Maria, gesturing to the seat, the brunette sat back down.

“As your chosen family, it is.” She shrugged, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms.

“What happened?” Natasha asked, waiting for the story to spill from Maria.

To Maria, it didn’t feel like a story anymore. It was like a dream, a nightmare almost. Her worst fears playing into her reality and destroying her life. How she wished it was a bad dream, and she could wake up in your arms, safe and loved. It was a hope she was past having.

————

“I don’t want to fight anymore,” Maria said, running her hands through her hair, leaning back against the couch in your shared apartment. You sighed and propped your elbows against the kitchen counter, leveling your girlfriend with a glare.

“You think I do?” You spat, watching the brunette wince at your harsh tone. It wasn’t a tone you used often, it was the kind of tone you used when you were annoyed with someone or you hated them. Maria was neither of them, but it was starting to seem like it.

“Where do you keep going?” Maria asked, forcing her eyes to stay open.

Exhaustion was creeping into her, but she refused to fall asleep. It was well past one in the morning, Maria had started asking you where you had been almost all night. But you refused to tell her, making her even more adamant and irritated.

“What, what do you mean?” You stuttered when you noticed her say ‘keep’. Maria was surprised you hadn’t expected her to see you take your car and head out into the city, almost every week. The way you hid your phone and kept a few more secrets from her.

“I mean, where do you keep going once a week without telling anyone?” Maria asked, stepping forwards and meeting your gaze in front of the kitchen counter. Your eyes left hers, darting nervously around the kitchen as you stepped back.

“It’s not important.” You waved her off, licking your lips.

“It is if you don’t tell me,” Maria said, watching you from the front of the kitchen counter. The first time she had asked you about this, you had easily distracted her from it. But she needed to know, your hidden secret was always in the back of her mind, feeding off of her insecurities.

“Maria,” You sighed, walking back to the counter and taking her hands in yours. “it’s not important.”

Your touch distracted her almost instantly, your warm fingers dancing along hers intoxicating her. Maria knew far too well what you were trying to do, you were trying to distract her from this, again. Her insecurities threatened to spill forth, maybe it was time she told you why she was so scared.

“Are you,” Maria licked her lips, pulling away from you. “are you cheating on me?”

“NO!” You shouted, voice loud and eyes wide in shock.

The way you denied it made her almost believe you. There could be other reasons you kept sneaking away, none came to mind. The most obvious one was that she wasn’t enough for you. There was something in her hoping that was the case, so it wouldn’t be entirely her fault you left eventually.

“God, no, I couldn’t.” You ran your hand through your hair in disbelief before moving forwards to take her hands. Maria slid away, watching you carefully.

“You know I could never do that.” You said, pleading for her to believe you. One hand remained in your trouser pocket, fidgeting with a small box. Maria assumed it was a small gift for her since you’d been gone too much, she didn’t think much of it.

“Do I know?” Maria asked, almost lying through her teeth. Of course, she knew you would never cheat on her. Her insecurities had gotten the best of her.

“Why are you doubting me?” You asked, tilting your head to the side slightly.

Maria’s eyes widened minimally as she stepped back, stuttering over her reply. She tried to compose herself. To try to get any sort of semblance to lie to you. It wasn’t working, you were seeing right through her.

“Maria,” You caught her attention, blue eyes barely meeting your gaze. “what aren’t you telling me?”

The brunette fidgeted under your scrutiny, deciding her biggest regret might not be her mistake, it might be telling you. At least she could be happy about being honest, even if there was nothing else to be happy about.

“About 2 weeks ago, I thought you were cheating on me.” Maria began, sighing as the events ran through her mind, wincing as her regrets flashed through her. “I went to a bar by myself.”

Shutting her eyes tightly, willing the memories away, wishing they weren’t true. More than anything she wanted her worst regret to be wrong, maybe a bad dream, anything else but a reality. There was nothing she could do to undo this, to undo her worst regret.

“I got drunk, too drunk,” Maria said, eyes flitting up to you. Your eyes watched her intently, betraying no emotion. “I wanted you to feel how I was feeling.”

Maria went quiet, fear filling her, eyes boring into yours. Her eyes were somewhere you could easily get lost, they were familiar and known. Now, they felt strange, unknown, almost as if they were betraying you.

“What did you do?” You asked, fear dripping into your voice.

“I cheated on you,” Maria confessed, almost like an apology. An apology for betraying your trust and doubting you. Though, she doubted anything she said could make you feel better.

If anything, she remembered the long nights you spent talking together about your worst fears. She had confessed she was terrified she was going to die alone, you had easily assured her that would never happen if she trusted you. You had confessed your worst fear was not being enough for someone, your worst fear was that the person you trusted most decided you weren’t enough for them.

Maria expected you to yell at her, throw things, cry, anything but what happened next. Eyes wide and teary, you chuckled and pulled the box you had been fidgeting with out of your pocket. The box was navy blue and velvet, her name engraved in an elaborate cursive font on the front.

You chuckled, there was no humor in you anymore. It was pained, breaking you to make any sort of reaction. Maria wanted to rush forwards to apologize, to try to fix what she had broken. But you didn’t give her a chance as you fidgeted with the box.

You had been planning to propose to her, her insecurity about being cheated on was because you’d been trying to surprise her by proposing, by putting her worst fears to rest. Instead, Maria had made your worst fear come true.

“And here I was,” You set the box down on the counter, a single tear falling from your cheek onto the box. “wanting to spend the rest of my life with the woman I wasn’t enough for.”

Pain filled your words, enveloping Maria and suffocating her, weighing down on her chest like weights.

“I’m sorry,” Maria whispered, rushing over to your side of the counter.

You backed away from her quietly as she reached out for you. Tears continued to slip out of your eyes as you made no motion to stop them. Every single tear showing how badly you were hurt, how badly Maria had hurt you.

“I’m sorry!” She shouted, almost begging for you to forgive her. But she knew there was nothing she could do to make you forgive her.

“I’m never going to do this again!”

“You never should have in the first place.” You murmured, still backing away from her. Your back hit the countertop as you cowered into yourself even further. Maria winced and backed away, trying to give you some space.

“Y/n, I never would have if I didn’t think you were cheating on me,” Maria said, trying to make an excuse, say anything to try to make less of her mistake.

“This is my fault now?” You scoffed, crossing your arms defensively. Wiping the tears away from your face in vain as more tears began to slip down.

“No,” Maria sighed, reaching forwards to take hold of your hands, to bring your comforting touch back. “that’s not what I meant.”

You pulled away, hurt as you shuffled to the other side of the kitchen. Feeling less cornered, your tone rose angrily. Your face hardened, despite the tears clinging to your skin like oil, you looked furious.

“I don’t care what you meant Maria.” You hissed, voice beginning to rise. It was almost as if the gravity of the situation came back to you when the brunette looked at you. Your voice softened and more tears fell.

“I gave you everything I had and I still wasn’t enough for you.” You said, shutting your eyes and turning to face away from her, steadying your breathing. The truth in your tone hitting Maria in the chest, pain flooding her, washing away any hope of reconciliation she had.

“You might as well take the ring,” You reached forwards and took her hand, slamming the velvet box into it. Your hand slipped away from hers, maybe for the last time. Confusion was clouding your features like you didn’t know what the right thing to do was anymore.

“my life was something I was willing to give to you.” You stated, moving towards the door and grabbing your coat. The apartment was yours, yet Maria was the reason you were leaving.

“Y/n, no,” Maria reached forwards to take your hand, but you were already out the door and running into the rain outside. You turned around, a sliver of hope-filled Maria, maybe you would let her apologize and bring you inside.

The rain-soaked your clothes and hair as Maria still stood in the doorway, unsure if you wanted her close. The water mingled with your tears, washing them away, making you wish it could wash your pain away too.

“Our time here is over.” You stated, sniffling as you turned on your heel and went towards your car. Shoulders drooped as rain-soaked your clothes, half expecting Maria to chase after you.

Which she did, the brunette ran after you, she still wasn’t fast enough to catch you. By the time she finally caught up to you, you were in your car and driving off. Maria was left, the rain drenching her clothes, mixing with the tears that were starting to slip down her face.

You left her because of what she had done. The mistakes she had made caused you to leave, you were ready to spend the rest of your life with her. If only you would come back, she could tell you that the answer would have been yes, it would always be yes.

Walking inside, she picked up the ring set down on the kitchen counter and picked it up, examining it. The velvet was soft to the touch, the engraving perfect and elaborate. She opened the box to reveal a silver ring with a sapphire stone in the center, surrounded by smaller sapphires weaved into it.

The light glinted off awkwardly from the inside of the band, causing her to pick it up and look on the inside. There was a small engraving, it read

“Love is trust, I love you”

Her mind betrayed her, showing her the memories of when you’d asked her what love meant to her, just before she told you. To Maria, love had always been trust, to trust the person with every single part of you and trust them not to leave.

She loved you, more than anyone she had ever loved before. Now, after breaking your trust in her, she wasn’t sure if you loved her anymore.

————

“What are you planning to do now?” Natasha asked, watching the brunette play with the box in front of her. She hadn’t opened it after that, hoping she could find you and make things right again. But it was as if you’d disappeared, no one could find you. Not even her, and she had spent days trying.

Almost a week had passed since she had last seen you, felt your touch dancing across her skin like a flame. The warmth she missed, more than anything, it always felt too cold now. Even when she was in your shared bed, comforted by all the blankets around her, she felt vulnerable and cold.

“I don’t know,” Maria said, clenching her jaw as her fingers ran over the engraving again.

“Do you want her back?” Natasha asked, knowing the answer before the question left her lips.

“More than anything,” Maria answered instantly, she sighed and put her hands around the ring box, her hands getting warmer the more she held the box, she hadn’t let go of it even after you left.

“But I broke her trust.” She mumbled, opening the box as a tear slipped down her cheek. A small gasp left Natasha at the sight of the ring.

The brunette pulled it out, playing with it, running her fingers over the smooth stones resembling her eyes. Marriage is a promise to spend the rest of your life with someone, it must have been terrifying for you to get this ring made knowing she might say no.

“But love is trust,” Maria read the inscription with a sigh, fingers turning cold as more tears fell. “she doesn’t trust me anymore.”

A/N: Please don’t let my sanity go to waste and comment/reblog/send me an ask!

Tag List: @capcarolsdanver, @versdan, @lesbian-girls-wayhaught, @lovebotlarson, @dhengkt, @hstoria, @natasha-danvers, @veryfunnyal, @xxxtwilightaxelxxx , @ophelias-heart , @never-didbefore , @justarandomhumanhere, @the-most-unicorn-of-them-all , @thatssocamryn , @lesbian-x-blackwidow , @wlw-imaginesss , @hcartbyheart , @summergeezburr , @imnotasuperhero , @a-stressedstudent , @aaron-despair , @rooskaya-yelena , @thewitchandtheassassin , @wannabe-fic-reader , @izalesbean, @higherfurther-romanova let me know if you’d like to be in any of my tag lists!

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lovetenya · 3 years

Text

𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬: 𝐲𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰

pairing: tenya iida x gn! reader

warnings: angst. anxiety. paranoia. self doubt. unkind words. non-explicit mentions of physical pain & scarring. implied death, but i don’t elaborate. lying. worrying.

word count: about 1.8k

author’s note: nobody writes any iida angst, (barely anyone writes for him at all) and as a vehement lover of angst, i thought i’d fill that gap. i love tenya, i really do, but i love to think about him in this way just as much as i love to believe he’d be the perfect other half. nobody is perfect, not even ingenium.

loving tenya iida is yellow.

it’s the color of the petals on the soft yellow daisy bouquet that he surprised you with on the night of your first anniversary. although it wasn’t a last minute purchase (how could he forget the best day of his life?), he still wasn’t exactly sure what to get.

what kind of object can symbolize a love so encapsulating?, he thought. there is no tangible item that could possibly show how i feel.

he picked up the familiar flowers from a shop on the corner that the two of you had walked past before on a date. it was one of the first ones, and you pressed your face against the glass to get a better look at the delicate flowers inside.

he caught himself in his romantics when he thought that none of them were prettier than you. nothing was or ever would be better than this moment, where you were on your tip toes in an attempt to see more flowers. that day, he insisted on buying you a small bouquet of yellow daisies, and thought it would be sweet to indulge and revisit the memory.

the week before your anniversary, he made you promise not to execute any elaborate celebratory plans.

“honey, you know that I’d rather do nothing with you than anything with anyone else,” he said. and he was serious. he would rather sit together on the couch half-listening to a documentary (because you can’t keep your eyes off each other) than go out to dinner, where he couldn’t let down his guard.

although he liked to think that his work made the world a safer place, he couldn’t help but feel paranoid whenever you were out in public. how could he be sure that someone in the restaurant didn’t want him dead? how could he be sure that they wouldn’t kidnap and kill you just to make him suffer? if he couldn’t be sure, was it worth the risk?

he’s an iida, after all. with their striking looks and long hero legacy, it’s not exactly easy to blend in in a world whose wellbeing depends on your greatness and ability. there’s a great sense of pride in coming from a long lines of heroes, and his parents were much less than thrilled to receive the phone call that tenya was in the hospital following the incident that rendered his arm “useless”. they weren’t happy to see that he chose to leave his arm that way as a reminder of his dedication.

when they figured he was out of earshot, they asked questions.

did the doctors check for any mental ailments?

will he ever be able to use his arm again?

why didn’t they amputate?

what kind of hero accepts a physical wound and doesn’t try to heal?

what kind of hero goes after a villain on their own?

are you sure he’s cut out to be a hero?

tenya isn’t proud of the publicity his family got following the incident including a certain self-proclaimed hero killer. he isn’t proud of the wary stares he gets from his classmates. he isn’t proud of the violence he’s been forced to commit. he isn’t proud of any of it, really, but he doesn’t regret his actions; not for a second, not even when he’s painstakingly rubbing scar balm into his shoulder, hoping that at least the scars would fade.

the pain, which seeped deep into his muscles and pricked at his bones, was more than just a cosmetic concern. he couldn’t care less about a scar, but with his limited movement capabilities, he knew he’d never be able to teach his sons to throw. the doctors didn’t have to tell him that. but, of course, they did. he knew what it all meant. he saw through their sugarcoating and attempts at softening the blow. they should’ve known better.

although he’s now your tenya, he was a hero first.

before there was you, there was responsibility. before there was love and devotion, there were hero duties and combat instincts. they’re ingrained into his mind, refusing to be ignored. even when things seem fine, he can’t help but make sure. he couldn’t live with himself if his laziness were to cause someone else’s pain. that isn’t what heroes do. when you’re in public, he’s constantly scanning the room and won’t sit with his back to a door or window, because he needs to be able to see who’s coming and going. he has to make sure that everything is fine. he has to make sure everyone is safe, and everything is put-together.

he has to be strong, because there are thousands of people counting on him. he has to be strong, because evil doesn’t rest. he has to be strong, because... if not him, then who?

the day of your anniversary, you texted tenya while he was at work.

you: i hope you have a great day, my love! i can’t wait until you get home so we can celebrate! <3!!

tenya: I can’t wait either! I love you very much, sweetheart. See you later.

he came home with his arms full of the bouquet of flowers, and almost teared up at the sight of the dinner you had set up for the two of you. you always considered every worry, every caution, every gut feeling of his, and he appreciated that more than he’d ever be able to express. no words did it justice.

you’re more than his other half, you’re his everything. you’re everything he needs, everything he can’t be, and more.

you surprised him with an at-home dinner date, where it was perfectly safe and calm, and there were no people hiding in the shadows. music softly played in the background, and the daisies looked perfect on the table.

it’s okay, tenya, you reminded him. you’re home now.

yellow is tenya’s birthday present, or the envelope holding it at least.

there are only so many thoughtful gifts you can give before the inspiration simply runs out, and you have to go bigger. you have to look forward, and think of what will really leave a mark on someone’s life. you only have so many chances to get it right.

one year, for his birthday, you got him the deed to a recently-discovered star and named it after him. a star for your star. your guide in the dark. your light in unimaginable darkness. your ever-present warmth.

many years later, when tenya is long gone, his star sparkles a little brighter.

through the telescope, he seems to be waving hello.

golden yellow is the promise ring that you have no idea how tenya afforded.

you insist he take it back and that neither of you are ready for the commitment, but he refuses, of course.he’s never been more ready for something in his life. he tells you,

“i got it for you because you’re worth it.

every day with you is worth it.

i never want to spent another day of my life without promising to love you every second of every day.

every time you wear this ring, you’ll be reminded of how much i love you.

i saved for months, anticipating this very moment when i’d get to promise myself to you forever.

i promise, you deserve it.

you deserve everything, and i can’t wait to give it to you.”

and you did deserve it. and you deserve him, in all of his glory. forever.

the harsh bruises littering his chiseled body are yellow at first. they turn purple, eventually, before they fade away completely. their sting, however, is more than just the pain of broken blood vessels. they’re a concrete reminder that tenya isn’t untouchable. he isn’t invincible. he’s human, and he bleeds red.

the bruises come when his instincts send him in the wrong direction, when he dodged too late, or when he couldn’t seem to land a kick. he tells you that they’re from when he “tripped going down the stairs” or when izuku “accidentally punched him too hard during a training session.” (lies.)

yellow is the embarrassment you feel when you confront izuku, pleading with him to be more careful with tenya, and he tells you that he couldn’t have possibly caused those bruises, because hasn’t seen iida outside of class in weeks. nobody has. he’s been training more than usual, and hasn’t been at group dinners.

yellow is the sickness and guilt you feel at the realization, because you recently teased iida for not getting his homework done. he smiled weakly, pretending like it was just a foolish slip-up. it was so unlike him, you couldn’t help but poke a little fun.

“ooooh!!! class representative iida tenya, professional stick in the mud, didnt complete his populations analysis essay on time??? somebody call the news outlets!!! or an ambulance, because i think i might die from shock!!!”

he couldn’t blame you for your ignorance, because he liked that you didn’t know. you didn’t know how tired he was. you didn’t know how hard he was pushing himself. you didn’t know how hard he was working. you didn’t know how close he was to breaking. nobody did, and he liked it that way. nobody wants to see their leader falter, or hesitate, or fail, so he didn’t let them.

while he didn’t like to make you wait, he especially didn’t like to make you worry, and he figured the best way to do that was to keep it all in. he was supposed to be an upstanding hero, worthy of admiration and inspiring greatness in all, but at the end of the day, your opinion of him mattered the most.

in his mind, he was supposed to be your hero. and he tried, with every fiber of his being, to be your everything.

he was supposed to keep you safe, not keep you up at night, wondering if this morning was the last time you’d get to kiss him goodbye. he’s supposed to come home to you, and he promised, even though he couldn’t be sure, that he would. he didn’t want to lie about that.

his lies are yellow. they’re made with hope of protecting you, with keeping you safe from the evil swirling through the world.

what you don’t know can’t hurt you, right?

...right?

they’re made with intentions filled with sunshine and his golden gaze when you’re supposed to be studying, but the temptation is too strong.

his intentions are filled with the colored pencils scattered on the floor of his dorm room from when you sketched each other for the first time.

they’re filled with honey coated love, first sweet and satisfying, but eventually leaving you with a sore throat. they leave you feeling his love, but also his lies.

and through it all, you still love him, maybe even to a fault.

even when he’s yellow.

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f0rever15elf · 4 years

Text

I’m Sorry

Pairing: Marcus Pike x f!reader Rating: T Word count: 1,961 Warnings: Alcohol mention, swearing, drinking/getting drunk alone, angst, verbal fighting, no beta

Summary: All couples fight eventually, but this time leaves you questioning your relationship with Marcus

A/N: This is a fic for the following anonymous request: “ Hi!! I was wondering if your Pedro requests are still open? Cause if they are I’d like to request a Marcus Pike or Frankie Morales piece, where they like get into an argument with you and it’s like super angsty, but y’all make up in the end ((: “ I hope you enjoy it dear!

Masterlist | Ao3

“You absolute CHILD!” you shriek as you slam the door open, storming into the home you shared with Marcus.

“Oh, I’m the child?! You’re the one throwing a temper tantrum!” Marcus slams the door closed with just as much force as you slammed it open.

“Yes, Pike. You’re the child! I cannot believe you right now.” You wheel on him, stabbing your finger against his chest as you glare up at him. “Do you even realize how fucking embarrassed I am right now? I’m never going to be able to show my face at a work function ever again all because you decided to turn into a little green-eyed monster! Child!” Marcus snarls, grabbing your wrist to pull it away from his chest. His grip was firm, but even in the heat of the anger and jealousy you could see bubbling in his eyes, he was still gentle enough to not hurt you.

“And what would you have had me do, huh?! Just let your ex sit there and cozy up to you like that? He had his hands on you and his eyes hadn’t left you all freaking night!”

You yank your wrist from his grasp, absolutely seething. “We’re coworkers! We have an image to upkeep as far as being cordial with each other, especially in front of share holders! Marcus, there were investors there, and your little outburst has put every single deal involving them in jeopardy!” You rip your shoes off, the uncomfortable heels not aiding your mood in the slightest. “All because you got jealous of my ex. All because you couldn’t stand to see me being friendly with someone who use to be in my life. I have never done something like that to you! Not when your high school sweetheart left you flowers. Not when Lisbon sauntered her happy ass into your office, perched herself on you desk, and FIXED YOUR FUCKING HAIR!” Marcus’ nostrils flare as he towers over you, his voice low when he speaks again.

“Don’t bring them into this, this isn’t about them.”

“Oh like hell it isn’t! You know why I didn’t care about those two? Cause I was confident you wouldn’t do anything to hurt or betray me. Because I fucking love you and trust you! But apparently you don’t feel the same way, if your self confidence is so low that you can’t stand to see me laughing with my ex without deciding it’s an appropriate time to throw hands!” That was a low blow, and you knew it, but you were so angry the words were out of your mouth before you could stop them. The two of you stand there in the living room, shoulders heaving as you pant for air. You could hear a pin drop, and the tension was so thick it felt suffocating. Slowly, the anger fades from Marcus’ eyes, replaced only with pain as his expression shifts. You cut him deep with that comment, you know you did, and it hurt to see that pain in his gentle eyes.

“M...Marcus…” Your voice is much softer now as you reach for his hand, but he takes a step back out of your reach, shaking his head.

“Don’t,” he whispers, turning and grabbing the car keys from the bowl as he all but runs from the house. You stand there frozen, hand outstretched as you listen to the sound of the car engine starting followed by the tires squealing as he tears out of the driveway. Tears brim in your eyes, spilling over as you begin to tremble.

What have you done?

The minutes turn into hours as you sit in the dark of your living room, waiting on your Marcus to return. An empty wine bottle sits on the coffee table next to a second nearly empty one. You swirl the pale liquid in your glass before bringing it to your lips to down the rest of it. Your once manicured nails have been bitten down to the nail bed, a nasty habit of yours when your anxiety gets the better of you. A habit that hadn’t reared its ugly head since the day you met Marcus… Two in the morning and he still isn’t home and you’re getting worried. You had messed up, and big time. You know how much Marcus struggles with his own confidence after how Lisbon had treated him. You know that, and you still felt the need to fling it in his face. Words said out of anger, words you didn’t mean...you couldn’t take them back now, no matter how much you wished you could.

A fresh round of sobs bubble from your throat as your hand flies to your mouth in an attempt to hold them back. Marcus is the best thing to have ever happened to you, how the hell could you do something like this to him, no matter how angry you were. You rub your eyes, looking like a raccoon from the smeared makeup, before you stagger to your feet. You wanted Marcus. You needed him. You needed him here, at home, where you could apologize until your voice goes hoarse and it still wouldn’t be enough.

The world spins around you, the two bottles of wine catching up to you as you stagger through the living room before falling to your knees. You cradle your face in your hands, sobs wracking your chest. Please come home Marcus, please come home. You don’t hear the key in the lock over the sound of your sobs, but when you feel the rush of air from the door opening, your head snaps up, bleary eyes searching desperately for the love of your life.

“Marcus?” you whimper, barely audible.

“Oh, love...what did you do?” he murmurs as he shuts the door before coming to your side, cradling your cheek gently. Desperate hands reach out to grab his shirt, now wrinkled and untucked from his pants, his jacket missing and sleeves rolled to the elbows.

“I-I’m s-s-sorry Marcus!” you wail, collapsing against him. His gentle arms wrap around you and he sighs, resting his head on top of yours. “I s-shouldn’t h-ha-have said wh-what I did! I was wr-wrong and c-cruel! P-please d-don’t leave m-me!” you plead, trembling against him.

“Leave you? Darling, I wouldn’t do that to you.” He leans back and tilts your chin up to look at him, paying no mind to the black splotches your makeup leaves against his once crisp white button down. His thumb traces along your chin before his hand moves to cup your face, running his thumb along your cheek bone. “You smell like wine...how much have you had?” You shake your head, ignoring the question as you continue to cling to him, your sobs slowing.

“I love you and I d-din’t mean what I said,” you whimper. “Don go again, p-please don g-go again.”

“Sweetheart, I’m not going anywhere, I just needed to cool down. Calm down, you’re going to make yourself sick.” He brushes your hair from your face as best he can before pulling you back against his chest, slowly rocking you in the middle of the floor. His hand pets your hair gently, soothingly as the remaining cries slowly abate. “Let’s get you to bed, love. Alright? We can discuss this more in the morning.” You mumble something unintelligible against his chest as he helps you stagger to your feet, guiding you to the bedroom. He carefully sits you on the bed, helping you undress down to your bra and underwear, removing your jewelry before going to get a warm cloth, helping to wipe your face. Finally, he hands you a glass of water which you stubbornly refuse at first. “Baby, please? For me?” You crumble, taking the glass and chugging it. He smiles and takes the glass back before gently laying you down so you’re slightly elevated.

When he joins you in bed you roll to snuggle against him, soaking in his warmth as he wraps his arms around you. The last words from your lips before you slip into unconsciousness are a very slurred I’m sorry.

The light of the day streaking across your face is what wakes you in the morning, and you groan as you come around, your head absolutely pounding. Your eyes feel like they’re full of sand and you can barely open them. Every joint in your body hurts and your mouth tastes like sandpaper. Slowly sitting up, you see a glass of water sitting on the nightstand next to two pain pills which you quickly take, downing the whole glass. As you dig the heels of your palms into your eyes in an attempt to dull the ache, last night comes rushing back to you and a wave of intense shame washes over you. A quiet rustling draws your attention to the door, and you seem Marcus peeking in. He gives you his gorgeous smile, one you feel you don’t deserve as he comes in.

“Good morning beautiful,” he whispers, knowing your head is probably killing you.

“Hi, Marcus…” He takes a seat on the bed next to you, taking your hand.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like shit...for a few reasons.” You look down at your connected hands, yours fitting so perfectly into his. “I’m sorry.”

“Want to elaborate on that?” He asks gently, lifting your face to look at him. There is a pained light in his eyes still that grows when he sees the shame and sadness in your own.

“For everything. For yelling, for that low blow, for...for getting drunk alone, for accusing you of bullshit and...and I…” you begin to tremble, his hand on your face the only thing keeping the tears at bay. “And I was so terrible to you and I’m so sorry, Marcus, I’m so fucking sorry.” Your voice is barely above a whisper as his hand leaves your face to place on the back of your head, pulling you against him. He smells as he always does, like cinnamon and coffee and his fresh aftershave and you use that smell to ground yourself.

“I’m sorry too, love of my life. I shouldn’t have behaved that way at the banquet, and I’ve already taken measures to mitigate what damage I may have done.” You shake your head, pulling back to look up at him.

“Screw the deals. They’re temporary.” You reach up to cup his cheek, your heart swelling as he leans into your touch. “You’re the one I’m in love with, the one I want to spend forever with. Everything else can burn to the ground, I just need you. I’ll always need you.” He smiles at you, that pain in his eyes fading as he watches you for a moment before leaning in to press his lips gently to yours. When he pulls back, he brushes your hair from your face before pressing his forehead to yours.

“We both acted like a couple of fools last night. Let’s put it behind us, ok? We’ll move forward and be better.” He takes your hand and places it over his heart. “It’s yours, completely and totally. I trust and love you with everything I am. I’ll be better, for you. For us.” Your eyes prickle with tears and you sniffle before leaning up to kiss him again.

“I love you too Marcus, so much. You’re my everything. I’ll be better for you, because you only deserve the best.”

He grins, placing a kiss on your nose. “Hey, that’s my line.”

You giggle softly, cuddling into him as he lays you back down to get a few more hours of rest. It’s all ok, you think. It’s all going to be ok. You still have your Marcus, and that is all that matters.

~~~~~

Tag Lists: Permanent : @ahopelessromanticwritersworld, @tangledlove27, @paintballkid711, @lose-eels, @adamdrivercouldchokeme

Tag list is open! Fic Requests are open!

#marcus pike #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x you #the mentalist #my fic #pedro pascal

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lucky-sevens · 4 years

Text

mechanisms fanfiction recommendations

this began as a compilation of my own works for my about, but i decided to recommend some others as well!

i have kept this list to 20 of other people’s + all of my own, because i have a lot of mechanisms fanfiction saved and didn’t want to go overboard! in addition, i’ve made sure that everyone i draw from is a different author, vs. several by the same person, for the sake of variation and giving more people a spotlight! i’ve also made sure everything is complete, which sadly means i’ve left out a few of my favorite longfics. i’ve also tried to have a decent balance of album-focused things vs crew-focused things.

a note; i’ve tried to have a variety (of both genre and length), but my tastes skew towards angst and longer oneshots, so that’ll be a lot of that sort of thing. (please mind the tags on some of these fics!) this is also all sfw, as i’m a minor, but it’s not all gen.

edit: i copy-pasted the summary from each of these works over to this post!

no matter what you do it won’t go away by AssyEr

Brian coming to terms with being made of metal.

Hatter and Hare Top 5 Gay Moments!! [NOT CLICKBAIT!!!] by shella688

Majors Hatter and Hare grinned at each other as they shook hands.

Then, all of a sudden, the grins faltered slightly as a realisation went through both their heads.

Oh no, the realisation went. He's cute.

Date Night: New Midgardian Prison Edition by OnceAndFloral

The Mechs cordially invite Lyfrassir to date night in their prison cell. And by "cordially invite" I mean "orchestrate an elaborate scheme".

eternity will see her dead by Garecc

Rose Reds are made to die, and eternity will see them dead, sent off to another bitter end.

cold as numbers by alderations

Ivy starts at the beginning.

Every morning, Ivy starts at the beginning. Rubbing alcohol, scalpel blades, sensations that should be twisting and cutting and crushing, if the words could coalesce into feelings. A subdued voice, a cool hand on her forehead. She is Ivy Alexandria. She starts at the beginning.

beat inside your heart by zinabug

Jonny and Nastya sibling oneshots part two. (Note from @lucky-sevens- they all function on their own.)

And Sew by fracnkie

The benefits of teaching your Toy Soldier to do the following: sew, do makeup, how to cure a sore throat, and how to shoot a plasma blaster.

Ashes To Ashes, Dust To Dust by CloudDreamer

It was the two of them against the world. But then the two of them against each other, and that seemed so much harder than fighting all the worlds combined.

Wayfarers by Oblivion_Wanderer

Nastya and Lyf meet in the cold of space; Nastya adrift after leaving the Mechanisms and Lyf fleeing from the destruction of the Yggdrasil system. Each feeling lost in their own way, they decide to travel together.

No Heart To Break by meteornight

The Toy Soldier was not real. It could never be real, not if it had any say in the matter. The widow had said that the toy was real, that it had once been a real man with a real heart. The toy knew that was a lie, for if it was a man, why would she treat it like a toy?

is it piety is it purity is it virtue by consumptive_sphinx

“Percy’s blunt, not stupid,“ Mordred says when Kay asks why they’re even friends, “and anyway she’s great, she never calculates anything, she just says stuff and makes everyone else deal with it. I could never be brave enough.”

This is because Mordred absolutely does calculate every word that comes out of his mouth, except sometimes when it’s two in the morning and everyone except him and Galahad and Percival has gone to sleep and he can argue as passionately in favor of peace as he wants with the only two people who won’t call him a traitor for it, and while he doesn’t not appreciate this trait of Percival’s, like hell is he going to admit to his real reason.

orpheus, the soldier, and the short-billed dowitchers by alexsandr

orpheus finds rest with an unexpected friend.

No Violins Allowed by Alienea

Lyf had been having a very peaceful and fulfilling few decades, at least in terms of work fulfillment and being able to afford to bail out of the system at the very first moment anything happened.

So of course that was when the Mechanisms appeared over the horizon.

Labyrinthine by DuskDragon39

Your story is a labyrinth.

Your story is built along wandering lines and windings so vague that you, its architect, cannot trace your way out. It is your scream at its center, your pain that fuels it.

(Or: Daedalus and the stories they tell about him.)

Baking With Goggles (Safety First!) by eminorseven

Marius tries to justify bringing Jonny and Tim to the kitchen. Brian daydreams. Jonny stabs many walnuts. Tim gets locked out and explodes things.

Typical baking stuff.

Surprising Salvage by OddmentsAndTweaks

A normal boring morning is made infinitely more exciting by the prospect of a ship boarding. The Mechanisms prepare for chaos and murder and some really good violence. What they get is one very defiantly defended ruined vessel and a morning no one expected at all.

I wanna stay here with you by SnailArmy

Loki and Sigyn get to be wives, in stolen moments.

As It Was by i_am_made_of_memoriies

Jonny walked down the corridor, his steps burdened by an invisible force. His face was passive, and where there was usually manic glee, there was only a hint of curiosity–someone was trying to enter through the airlocks, and he was going to kill them.

Nastya returns to the ship formerly known as the Aurora to find the mechanisms at the end of their time.

burned out from a joyride by spiralingcosmos

ashes has a nightmare; as a result, they make a new friend.

In Which Nastya Is The Narrator Of The Deaths by nonbinary_frog

(Note from @lucky-sevens: There is no summary included, but I feel like the title works well enough.)

---

my heart in your hands

How Jonny d'Ville's mechanization came about.

i’ve got a map of your eyes (but i’ve never seen your face)

That’s not the real Rose. All the memories and feelings were merely planted in her head.”

“Very true.”

“And given the effective age difference, it’s unlikely they’ll have much of a life together, not to mention the massive amount of trauma they’ve both endured.”

“Absolutely.”

“Not only that, but everyone else they’ve ever known or loved is dead and they’re trapped on a planet full of corpses in a vast interstellar empire that is going to suffer the most horrendous power vacuum and associated bloodshed the galaxy has ever seen. Oh, and they’re both known war criminals and will likely be on the run for the rest of their lives.”

“Like I said. I love a happy ending.”

-Ever After

the death of a phoenix

You are Ashes O'Reilly, and you are twenty-three, and you are dying.

an exercise in futility

Post-Lashings.

ballast

The Aurora doesn't have a daemon, but that doesn't mean she doesn't have a soul.

marching ever through the black

Whoever’s uniform you wear No loyalties to hold or share No burning hate, no bitter fear No heart to break, so shed no tear

TMA Is The Mechanisms’ Podcast (series)

The Magnus Archives is a podcast distributed by the Mechanisms, a crew of immortal space pirates roaming through the galaxy having fun, violence, violence, and violence. They have an inane distaste for laws, and so refuse to put their podcast under any kind of copyright law whatsoever. Today's episode was cowritten by Ivy Alexandria and Nastya Rasputina and performed by Jonny d'Ville. It was produced by the SS Aurora and directed by Jonny d'Ville- well, no, but sometimes he wants to be in charge of things and the other Mechanisms don't find it worth arguing about. To comment on episodes, make donations, and view links, images, and show notes, simply throw yourself into space and the Mechanisms may or may not find you. Probably best if they don't. Thank you for listening, though why you choose to spend your time like this is beyond the Blogbot's understanding.

thank you for reading! i’d highly suggest trying these!

#the mechanisms #the mechs #my posts #compiliation post

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mikrowrites · 4 years

Text

numb

Poe Dameron x Reader

TROS SPOILERS!!!!!!

The final battle against the Final Order is here, and Y/N Dameron for the first time realizes how numb she is.

Warnings: mention of major character death, adult situations, war, crash, angst, a decent amount of fluff, mostly really sad

Y/N rubbed at her eyes, red rimmed and raw from her tears. She walked aimlessly along the dirt paths of the rainforest that housed the Resistance, desperately fighting off memories flooding her head.

Leia was gone.

Y/N was not a Solo, or a Skywalker for that matter, but a young girl who needed a mother. Perhaps, in a coping matter, Leia found Y/N to try and heal the hole left from her son. They became close, the woman taking her in and training her in the Resistance to be a pilot even rival to Poe Dameron.

Oh, and Poe Dameron the hotshot pilot. The hotshot pilot she married little more than a year ago. Y/N fiddled with the cold silver chair around her neck, the ring resting against her chest.

The Resistance would move out at dawn, going to fight Palpatine and the Final Order, and Y/N felt... nothing. Fear, excitement, anger, determination... nothing crossed her conscience. She continued her trek as she reached her assigned X-Wing. Her dear one had been destroyed on the Raddus, but this one was a sight for sore eyes.

Y/N ran her fingers along the ship, ducking under the wings and circling around it. There was something comforting to her, flying. The rush and adrenaline of the fight, the hum of her ship’s engine. Y/N found such a euphoria in it, like a drunk recounting his joys.

“Y/N?”

The girl turned to see her husband emerge from the greenery, stopping feet away from her. Poe looked as hurting as she was, his raspy voice still laced with grief. “Hey.”

“Tomorrow. You... you doing okay?” Poe questioned, his hands retreating into his pockets.

Y/N gave him a tight lipped smile, leaning against the X-Wing. “It’s a funny thing... I don’t know.” Poe looked at her in confusion, his head tipping ever so slightly as his eyebrows furrowed. Y/N elaborated. “Ever since we’ve come back from the mission, ever since we heard that—I don’t know, I just... I feel... numb.”

Poe finally began to step forward, taking her arms in his. “I get it. It’s a lot.”

Y/N nodded. “Now what we’re doing in just a few hours... it doesn’t even seem real. That this is it.”

“Y/N, we’re going to win.” Poe insisted, pulling her away from the ship and wrapping her in a tight embrace, the two pilots ever so slightly swaying as they held each other. Poe rested his stubbly chin on Y/N’s head. “We’re gonna win. And then, we’ll buy a house. A nice, small one. We’ll have a proper ceremony, go on a nice honeymoon, help the reconstruction. Maybe a couple kids. We’ll be happy. You’ll see.”

Y/N nodded into his chest, closing her eyes. She let the sound of Poe’s breath, the sounds of the forest, and the clatter of Resistance members rising from sleep carry her.

“I love you so damn much, Y/N.” Poe breathed, fear flooding his mind.

“I love you Poe. Always.” Y/N murmured.

The two pulled slightly away, Poe lightly grasping Y/N’s chin with his calloused fingers, guiding her mouth to his as they deepened into a kiss, Y/N wrapping her arm around Poe’s shoulder as she ran her fingers through his curly hair. They kissed like they never had before, neither one wanting to even consider the fact it could be a goodbye.

When their lips finally parted, Y/N rested her forehead on Poe’s. They endulged in each other’s bliss, a true smile finally creeping on Y/N’s face. She looked up at Poe, wrapping her wrists around his neck.

“We’re gonna win.”

——————

When the electricity from Palpatine hit Y/N’s X-Wing, she let out a yell. Her screens became scrambled, the ignition cutting out and the ship falling from the sky.

Y/N calmly began flipping switches, pressing at buttons because her ship had fallen out of the sky numerous times before and everything had been fine, right?

“Shit...” Y/N cursed under her breath, her body stilling when she realized that she couldn’t do anything. Her ship was plummeting and all Y/N could do was sit back and wait for the impact. Her breathing began to quicken.

The coms in her helmet were static, oh Lord, did Y/N want nothing more than to hear Poe’s voice. She began panickingly pushing the thrusters, igniting the hyperdrive, crying out as she wanted to do anything, anything to live. Tears began to run down her cheeks, the ground coming closer and closer.

But the closer the terrain came, the more empty Y/N felt. The more her fear and distraught faded away. She was numb.

And perhaps that was the best thing for her to be.

Seconds before her ship hit the ground, her comm burst to life.

“Y/N? Do you hear me? Y/N? Honey?”

And in her numb state, Y/N allowed a smile to cross her face as the shrieking of metal cut through Poe’s sweet voice.

The X-Wing was crushed into the ground, flames licking the ship.

Y/N’s head jerked forwards, a scream erupting from her mouth as the ship skidded, coming to a halt. She had never felt such unimaginable pain in her entire life. Everything hurt, and Y/N couldn’t help the raw screams bursting from her throat.

After a couple minutes the pain seemed to numb, Y/N staring through the cracked glass in her cockpit. Flames and smoke obscured her view, Y/N beginning to close her eyes.

Suddenly a hand reached out, grasping her uniform, tearing off her helmet. Y/N felt herself pulled from her cockpit, her eyes refusing to open but more cries escaping her lips as pain once again shot through her body.

Y/N took wheezing breaths, her ears ringing and the world sounding like it was underwater. Someone was saying something fast, pulling at her jumpsuit and seemingly looking at injuries.

Finally Y/N eased her eyes open, the world blurry and unfocused. A figure she couldn’t make out was kneeled over her, still saying unintelligible things and holding her. Y/N narrowed her eyes, her sight slowly coming back for a moment before everything went black.

A face. A man. Who she had rivaled, reconciled, married, fallen in love with. Tears cascaded down his face, fear surging and evident in his face. Y/N murmured Poe’s name before everything faded away.

——————

Y/N let out a dry gasp, her eyes flicking open as she was suddenly pulled back to consciousness. She took several ragged gasps, looking around.

She was in a sterile room, mostly white. It was simple, consisting of the bed she laid in, a window with white curtains, several cabinets, and lots of bacta equipment. It didn’t take a genius to see she was in some kind of hospital.

Y/N slowly sat up, removing her blanket and throwing her legs over to the side of the bed. She shakily stood, using the bed for support and stumbled to the window, gripping the ledge.

The glass was pushed open, revealing a shining city scape. Resistance banners hanging on every building flapped in the breeze, a smile crossing Y/N’s face. She could hear the distant music and see people celebrating, dancing in the streets. They had won.

Suddenly there was a crash behind her. Y/N supported herself on the window ledge, turning around.

Poe stood in the doorway, transfixed upon Y/N. Water, some kind of green-blue glass, and alien flowers littered the floor in front of him.

The two stood, looking at each other, as Y/N gave him a smile. “Hey.”

“Hey.” He breathlessly responded, still frozen. “You—um—the uh... the doctors said that you might not wake up.”

Y/N huffed out a breath, feeling tears threatening to escape the corners of her eyes. “You won?”

Poe finally smiled, deflating as if a hundred bricks had been removed from his shoulders. “Yeah. We did.”

The man couldn’t help himself, walking over the mess on the floor and rushing to Y/N, pulling her into his arms. Y/N felt his body shaking, her shoulder becoming wet.

“I thought you were dead. I heard your screams through the comms, I pulled you out of the ship and Y/N... you were so hurt. You looked bad. You were in so much pain and I—“ Poe choked up for a minute, recomposing himself. “You were out for two weeks. They said they did everything they could, and you... you might not... I thought I lost you.”

“Never.” Y/N responded. “I’m here. It’s okay.”

The two held each other like they had weeks before, when war was raging and Y/N was numbed to everything around her.

Except now she wasn’t.

Y/N Dameron was so full of love.

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