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animatedrapture · 3 years

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"𝖐𝖎𝖘𝖘 𝖒𝖊 𝖘𝖑𝖔𝖜𝖑𝖞" — suna rintarou ;

𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: suna rintarō is so much more than his bored eyes, the blunt between his lips, and his tendency to slack off—luckily, you're one of the very few people who know this; especially after he comes home to you sullen after finding out he didn't make it to the olympic players.

𝖙𝖆𝖌𝖘: female reader. fluff—established relationship. angst if you squint. comfort. mention of drug use. like, one swear word.

𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙: 2k

𝖛𝖎𝖔𝖑𝖊𝖙'𝖘 𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖊: in lieu of the influx of toxic stoner!suna content, i offer you a piece of appreciation towards him and all that he is. i was meaning to post this in my new blog but i thought there's so much of you here who would appreciate and need this more. written on a whim at 1AM and didn't proofread so for any errors, gomen. repost because tumblr tagging hates me. cross posted on ao3 under the same username. original post here. this was written before we got information that he actually made it to the olympic team. furudate really told me to stfu, huh?

It's you who find out first that there is truly so much more to Suna Rintarō than his expressionless exterior, sleepy eyes, and bored gaze towards even the most ridiculous situations. It's when his self assured stance dwindled as he walked towards you once upon a time, introducing himself first before asking you for your number.

"My number?" You echoed his request, trying your best not to gawk at his attractive features and six foot two stature towering over you so easily; making you feel oh so small. (Which is funny, given that you were already standing straight on your heels.)

"If you don't mind, 's cool if you say no," he replies, tearing his gaze from you as if he was actually anxious you'd say no.

It's funny, really. It's not every day a famous pro-athlete known for both his good looks and skills walk up to you, asking for your number and actually considering you'd say no to him and his pretty features—in fact, nevermind that he was pretty, it was more the fact that he wasn't so full of himself to actually think you wouldn't say no.

That's what makes you nod your head; your heart already beating right out of your chest as he gives you a lazy grin and his phone to press your number in. When you're done, you hand it back to him and you mentally pat yourself at the back for not visibly trembling.

"Y/N?" He reads your name from the contact information, and good God, did your name sound so beautiful coming out of his mouth. He doesn't wait for your reply anymore, looking back at you from his phone, the lazy smile still across his lips as if he knew it was a heart killer.

"Thanks, I'll text you later," is the last thing he said before he walked away from you.

It didn't take long for you to fall in love with someone like Suna Rintarō—underneath his detached personality also lied someone who was truly passionate with the things he set his mind to, gave his time to. Like you or volleyball or the video game he's been waiting to release for a whole month—it only had to be something or someone who was special enough, then, he would give it his all.

The smoke that filled his lungs occasionally did nothing to lessen your own intoxication of Suna Rintarō and his passions—because every exhale, his dark green eyes would meet yours and oh so easily, he offers you that same lazy smile yet one that was dripping with affection.

"Should you even be smoking that, Rintarō?" You had questioned him before, about the second time you've seen him put the rolled blunt in between his soft lips, inhaling it.

"It's a once in a while kinda thing, you don't actually think I'd sacrifice my career for this don'tcha?" He grins at you, amusement flooding his usually bored eyes — now glazed over with the effects of the weed—from the way he gazes at you with an eyebrow raised.

It's when you realize that Suna Rintarō was independent and knew what he was doing—did what he did with full awareness, full control, full flexibility. It's as if who he was in court was who he was in person as well.

"You're really interesting, y'know that Rin?" You had mumbled against his chest once before, it was at the first few months of dating—he had one of his arms around you with you cuddled on his side, watching a movie from his couch.

"Yeah?"

"I mean—you've always been so good at what you do, huh? But you still work for it."

"What makes you say that?" You can feel him looking down on face against his chest.

"C'mon, don't be silly. You were scouted at middle school and you only got better as you grew up!" You say, finally moving your head to meet his gaze.

But all you get is a flick on your forehead and his low chuckle, "'s not that deep, y/n," he answers.

But you already knew better.

Suna isn't one for words, and no matter how much you insist that he was beyond the description of words, he only rolls his narrowed eyes at you. You find out Suna Rintarō, your boyfriend, was a huge inspiration during your sixth month together when you finally met his little sister.

It's hard to say it wasn't amusing how snarky she was, just as he was to his friends whom you've met a few times before—Atsumu and Osamu Miya, you remember. She's quick with her tongue, easily retorting back to her brother's comments.

"Are you sure you didn't just pay Y/N-san to be your girlfriend, nii-san?"

"Nah, you still jealous I came out prettier than you?" Suna bites back, a teasing grin plastered across his face. His sister only scoffs, looking back at you.

"You can tell me if he blackmailed you to come here!" She attempts to whisper. You're not sure whether you should be worried or continue to laugh, but you do neither as you choke on the drink you were sipping on right as she told you this.

"Shit, Y/N," Suna curses as you cough, your throat burning at the drink's intrusion, but Suna's quick to rub soothingly against your back as he offers you his water, his eyes glazed over in panic.

"You okay?" He asks when you stopped coughing, and you nod in response—throat remaining slightly sore. Suna lets out an aggravated groan, "Be careful next time," he manages to scold you, but oddly enough, his words remain saccharine.

There's something about the way that his little sister doesn't seem the least bit surprised with his reaction that somehow lets you know that perhaps, Suna Rintarō might just be quite the caring brother behind closed doors.

After that, it was when Suna excused himself to take a call from his manager, leaving you with his sister.

"Hey, nee-san, promise you'll take care of Rin-nii? You won't break his heart, will you?" His sister asks, eyes gleaming with something akin to hope, expectation, wonder. It easily takes you by surprise.

"Don't you worry, I'll promise I'll take care of him, promise I won't break his heart," your voice easily softens, nodding. His little sister's gaze remains on you, as if she's assessing you and as if she would easily tell whether or not you meant the words that came out of your mouth.

It makes you hold a breath until she nods slowly, smiling at you lightly just as Suna comes walking back, eyebrows raised, knowing he must've missed something.

"Whatcha girls talkin' bout?" He asked as he slipped back on his seat beside you.

"None of your business, obviously," his sister quickly answers.

They're truly quite similar, it's enough to make you smile and get through meeting his little sister until both of you dropped her off back to the train station.

"What'd she tell you?" Suna nudged you after seeing her train leave.

"Nothing, Rin," you answered with a wide smile, leaning up to place a chaste kiss against his lips—yet just as you pull away, one of his hands has found its way behind your neck, pulling you back to him.

You never thought a kiss could feel so loving before—but it really seemed as if Suna Rintarō had a knack for proving you wrong, over and over again.

It was the day that the Olympic team was announced when you see so much more of Suna Rintarō. Quick like the blink of an eye, or lightning that leaves the thunder chasing it; Suna felt the exhaustion, the pressure, the burnt-out feeling that's been repressed in the back of his head. It comes to him, crashing down like boulders not just on his shoulders but weighing down every part of his body.

Did he lack somewhere? He wonders. Where did that lacking end and start? What could have he done? Was it training, where he spent most of his time now? Suna had end up seeing you less and less since the drafting of olympic players started and you've been nothing but patient.

What was he supposed to tell you? After all the time it has stolen away from you—that he didn't make it?

When he opened the door to your shared apartment, he doesn't look up at you with a relieved sigh as he usually would—he avoids you gaze entirely, he avoids your observing eyes from the couch you sat on, watching him slowly shrug his shoes off.

"I'm just gonn—" he started, about to make an excuse to avoid looking at you.

"Prepared your bath, Rin. C'mon," Suna hears you say but it doesn't sink in his head, watching you take his hand, leading him to the bathroom.

Suna remains silent as he looks down on the bath you prepared for him, warm and inviting.

"Meet me in the kitchen when you're done, okay?" He hears you say, followed by the echo of your footsteps walking away.

You easily understand that Suna Rintarō was more than his talents, his efforts, and every little thing about him when you feel his large arms wrapped around you, his broad chest pressed against your back and his face buried on the crook of your neck. His fresh scent right out of the shower engulfing you and invading your senses, flooding you with him.

"'m sorry, bunny," he mumbles.

"You have nothing to be sorry about, Ri—"

"It's odd, thought I'd pull it off, thought it'd be nothin' if I didn't make it. Don't know why I'm so upset right now," he continues, cutting you off, "Been so patient for me too, bunny. Thought I'd be nice to make you proud, ya know?"

Your sigh comes out sharp from the heavy feeling from your chest, not knowing what to do to make him feel better—like he did with you, always knowing his way around your low moments.

You wriggle out of his arms, making him grumble until you fully face him. He looks back at you with a small frown, eyebrows furrowed, watching your expression.

"I'm always proud of you, Rin. Olympic player or not, you make me so proud," you speak softly, your hands cupping each side of his face.

"Don't even get why it matters to me this much, it's just—" it was your turn to cut him off, tipping your toes to press a lingering kiss against his lips. Suna smiles against your lips, carrying you to sit on the kitchen counter like he always did—knowing you always would have to tip on your toes to reach him.

Soon, the lingering kiss turns slow and passionate—lips softly grazing the other, and it feels more like pouring the heavy weight of love out of your chest and into the other. A kiss so loving, so reassuring, so passionate—the kind that easily takes your breath away and makes your mind go blank. When Suna pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours, breathing heavily. You smile at him because it's all you can do when your heart feels like it's going to leap out of your throat just to offer itself to him entirely—and Suna smiles back at you, pecking your lips before wrapping his arms around you again, resting his chin on your shoulder.

You run your fingers through his hair, hoping it would help soothe him, and then you say, "I promise that you'll make it next year, Rin. I'll be with you now, and I'll still be with you then."

It only makes him hold you tighter, closer to him, "I love you, Y/N."

"I love you, Rintarō. You deserve the world and all the stars in the galaxy."

"'s too bad there's nothin' more I need than you, then."

That's what Suna tells you—Suna, who was smoke in his lungs, dumb videos of the twins to blackmail them with, little mistakes, bored eyes, and lazy attitude. The same Suna who was slow kisses, passion, and genuine smiles reserved for you—the same Suna who gave his passions his all, the same Suna who held you securely in his arms every night, the same Suna his little sister admired. Most of all, the same Suna Rintarō you loved with every beat of your heart, every fibre of your being.

📞 violet is calling... all content featured belongs to ©️ animatedrapture. do not plagiarize, repost, or modify.

#suna x reader #suna rintarou #haikyuu x reader #suna #haikyuu #suna rintaro x reader #haikyuu imagines #rintarou suna #suna fluff #haikyuu fluff #suna Rintarō #;cloud #IM SO PRESSED!!!#so anNOYED!!#GODDAMN HAD TO REPOST

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rintarhoes · 3 years

Text

“KISS ME SLOWLY” — suna rintarou ;

𝖙𝖆𝖌𝖘: female reader. fluff—established relationship. angst if you squint. comfort. mention of drug use. like, one swear word.

𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙: 2k

𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: suna rintarō is so much more than his bored eyes, the blunt between his lips, and his tendency to slack off and you’re one of the very few people who know this.

♡: repost (: this was written way before it was announced that suna was a part of the japan olympic players so.

It’s you who find out first that there is truly so much more to Suna Rintarō than his expressionless exterior, sleepy eyes, and bored gaze towards even the most ridiculous situations. It’s when his self assured stance dwindled as he walked towards you once upon a time, introducing himself first before asking you for your number.

“My number?” You echoed his request, trying your best not to gawk at his attractive features and six foot two stature towering over you so easily; making you feel oh so small. (Which is funny, given that you were already standing straight on your heels.)

“If you don’t mind, ’s cool if you say no,” he replies, tearing his gaze from you as if he was actually anxious you’d say no.

It’s funny, really. It’s not every day a famous pro-athlete known for both his good looks and skills walk up to you, asking for your number and actually considering you’d say no to him and his pretty features—in fact, nevermind that he was pretty, it was more the fact that he wasn’t so full of himself to actually think you wouldn’t say no.

That’s what makes you nod your head; your heart already beating right out of your chest as he gives you a lazy grin and his phone to press your number in. When you’re done, you hand it back to him and you mentally pat yourself at the back for not visibly trembling.

“Y/N?” He reads your name from the contact information, and good God, did your name sound so beautiful coming out of his mouth. He doesn’t wait for your reply anymore, looking back at you from his phone, the lazy smile still across his lips as if he knew it was a heart killer.

“Thanks, I’ll text you later,” is the last thing he said before he walked away from you.

It didn’t take long for you to fall in love with someone like Suna Rintarō—underneath his detached personality also lied someone who was truly passionate with the things he set his mind to, gave his time to. Like you or volleyball or the video game he’s been waiting to release for a whole month—it only had to be something or someone who was special enough, then, he would give it his all.

“Should you even be smoking that, Rintarō?” You had questioned him before, about the second time you’ve seen him put the rolled blunt in between his soft lips, inhaling it.

“It’s a once in a while kinda thing, you don’t actually think I’d sacrifice my career for this don'tcha?” He grins at you, amusement flooding his usually bored eyes—now glazed over with the effects of the weed—from the way he gazes at you with an eyebrow raised.

It’s when you realize that Suna Rintarō was independent and knew what he was doing—did what he did with full awareness, full control, full flexibility. It’s as if who he was in court was who he was in person as well.

“You’re really interesting, y'know that Rin?” You had mumbled against his chest once before, it was at the first few months of dating—he had one of his arms around you with you cuddled on his side, watching a movie from his couch.

“Yeah?”

“I mean—you’ve always been so good at what you do, huh? But you still work for it.”

“What makes you say that?” You can feel him looking down on face against his chest.

“C'mon, don’t be silly. You were scouted at middle school and you only got better as you grew up!” You say, finally moving your head to meet his gaze.

But all you get is a flick on your forehead and his low chuckle, “’s not that deep, y/n,” he answers.

But you already knew better.

Suna isn’t one for words, and no matter how much you insist that he was beyond the description of words, he only rolls his narrowed eyes at you. You find out Suna Rintarō, your boyfriend, was a huge inspiration during your sixth month together when you finally met his little sister.

It’s hard to say it wasn’t amusing how snarky she was, just as he was to his friends whom you’ve met a few times before—Atsumu and Osamu Miya, you remember. She’s quick with her tongue, easily retorting back to her brother’s comments.

“Are you sure you didn’t just pay Y/N-san to be your girlfriend, nii-san?”

“Nah, you still jealous I came out prettier than you?” Suna bites back, a teasing grin plastered across his face. His sister only scoffs, looking back at you.

“You can tell me if he blackmailed you to come here!” She attempts to whisper. You’re not sure whether you should be worried or continue to laugh, but you do neither as you choke on the drink you were sipping on right as she told you this.

“Shit, Y/N,” Suna curses as you cough, your throat burning at the drink’s intrusion, but Suna’s quick to rub soothingly against your back as he offers you his water, his eyes glazed over in panic.

“You okay?” He asks when you stopped coughing, and you nod in response—throat remaining slightly sore. Suna lets out an aggravated groan, “Be careful next time,” he manages to scold you, but oddly enough, his words remain saccharine.

There’s something about the way that his little sister doesn’t seem the least bit surprised with his reaction that somehow lets you know that perhaps, Suna Rintarō might just be quite the caring brother behind closed doors.

After that, it was when Suna excused himself to take a call from his manager, leaving you with his sister.

“Hey, nee-san, promise you’ll take care of Rin-nii? You won’t break his heart, will you?” His sister asks, eyes gleaming with something akin to hope, expectation, wonder. It easily takes you by surprise.

“Don’t you worry, I’ll promise I’ll take care of him, promise I won’t break his heart,” your voice easily softens, nodding. His little sister’s gaze remains on you, as if she’s assessing you and as if she would easily tell whether or not you meant the words that came out of your mouth.

It makes you hold a breath until she nods slowly, smiling at you lightly just as Suna comes walking back, eyebrows raised, knowing he must’ve missed something.

“Whatcha girls talkin’ bout?” He asked as he slipped back on his seat beside you.

“None of your business, obviously,” his sister quickly answers.

They’re truly quite similar, it’s enough to make you smile and get through meeting his little sister until both of you dropped her off back to the train station.

“What’d she tell you?” Suna nudged you after seeing her train leave.

“Nothing, Rin,” you answered with a wide smile, leaning up to place a chaste kiss against his lips—yet just as you pull away, one of his hands has found its way behind your neck, pulling you back to him.

You never thought a kiss could feel so loving before—but it really seemed as if Suna Rintarō had a knack for proving you wrong, over and over again.

It was the day that the Olympic team was announced when you see so much more of Suna Rintarō. Quick like the blink of an eye, or lightning that leaves the thunder chasing it; Suna felt the exhaustion, the pressure, the burnt-out feeling that’s been repressed in the back of his head. It comes to him, crashing down like boulders not just on his shoulders but weighing down every part of his body.

What was he supposed to tell you? After all the time it has stolen away from you—that he didn’t make it?

When he opened the door to your shared apartment, he doesn’t look up at you with a relieved sigh as he usually would—he avoids you gaze entirely, he avoids your observing eyes from the couch you sat on, watching him slowly shrug his shoes off.

“I’m just gonn—” he started, about to make an excuse to avoid looking at you.

“Prepared your bath, Rin. C'mon,” Suna hears you say but it doesn’t sink in his head, watching you take his hand, leading him to the bathroom.

Suna remains silent as he looks down on the bath you prepared for him, warm and inviting.

“Meet me in the kitchen when you’re done, okay?” He hears you say, followed by the echo of your footsteps walking away.

“’m sorry, bunny,” he mumbles.

“You have nothing to be sorry about, Ri—”

“It’s odd, thought I’d pull it off, thought it’d be nothin’ if I didn’t make it. Don’t know why I’m so upset right now,” he continues, cutting you off, “Been so patient for me too, bunny. Thought I’d be nice to make you proud, ya know?”

Your sigh comes out sharp from the heavy feeling from your chest, not knowing what to do to make him feel better—like he did with you, always knowing his way around your low moments.

You wriggle out of his arms, making him grumble until you fully face him. He looks back at you with a small frown, eyebrows furrowed, watching your expression.

“I’m always proud of you, Rin. Olympic player or not, you make me so proud,” you speak softly, your hands cupping each side of his face.

“Don’t even get why it matters to me this much, it’s just—” it was your turn to cut him off, tipping your toes to press a lingering kiss against his lips. Suna smiles against your lips, carrying you to sit on the kitchen counter like he always did—knowing you always would have to tip on your toes to reach him.

Soon, the lingering kiss turns slow and passionate—lips softly grazing the other, and it feels more like pouring the heavy weight of love out of your chest and into the other. A kiss so loving, so reassuring, so passionate—the kind that easily takes your breath away and makes your mind go blank. When Suna pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours, breathing heavily. You smile at him because it’s all you can do when your heart feels like it’s going to leap out of your throat just to offer itself to him entirely—and Suna smiles back at you, pecking your lips before wrapping his arms around you again, resting his chin on your shoulder.

You run your fingers through his hair, hoping it would help soothe him, and then you say, “I promise that you’ll make it next year, Rin. I’ll be with you now, and I’ll still be with you then.”

It only makes him hold you tighter, closer to him, “I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you, Rintarō. You deserve the world and all the stars in the galaxy.”

“’s too bad there’s nothin’ more I need than you, then.”

That’s what Suna tells you—Suna, who was smoke in his lungs, dumb videos of the twins to blackmail them with, little mistakes, bored eyes, and lazy attitude. The same Suna who was slow kisses, passion, and genuine smiles reserved for you—the same Suna who gave his passions his all, the same Suna who held you securely in his arms every night, the same Suna his little sister admired. Most of all, the same Suna Rintarō you loved with every beat of your heart, every fibre of your being.

📞 violet is calling… all content featured belongs to ©️ animatedrapture. do not plagiarize, repost, or modify.

#suna x reader #suna rintarou #inarizaki #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff #suna rintaro x reader #suna fluff #suna angst

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zi-i-think · 4 years

Note

Asfgh okay literally completely get you with the late Harry potter obsession and the Fred Weasley love. Was wondering if I could request a fluffy X reader one-shot where she's in slytherin/house neutral and tries to confess to Fred by going "well the guy I like is ginger, tall, sporty" etc and describes him perfectly and the dumbass thinks she's talking abt George and tries to set them up? Maybe w a cute ending where he figures it out? Thank you and have a lovely day!!💕

Assumption

AN: I was so excited to write this cause it was just such a cute idea. Hope you like it!

Pairing: Fred Weasley x gn! slytherin! reader

Word count: 1,800+

Warnings: Swearing

Summary: Fred doesn’t get the hint when y/n basically confesses that they have feelings for him and sets up a date between the reader and his brother.

Y/n didn’t get nervous easily. They were usually quite confident, actually. Which is exactly why these newfound feelings for a well known Weasley were leaving them flustered and uncomfortable.

Y/n had always been friends with the twins, despite being in different houses. The trouble they caused and pranks they’ve pulled together made memories none of the three would forget. But y/n’s crush on the oldest of the two was starting to get in the way. Whenever they saw Fred in class or in the halls, it was like someone let loose a swarm of butterflies in their stomach. It was annoying, leaving them to resort to the only thing they considered reasonable. Avoiding Fred at all costs.

It wasn’t like y/n enjoyed spending less time with her friends. I’m actuality, it was lonely. Quiet. Uneventful.

Sitting in the library, y/n started out the window, looking out to the courtyard. They were supposed to be writing a potions essay, but two ginger heads caught her eye. The twins were hastily walking across the yard with mischievous grins. Likely planning another scheme.

A sigh fell from their lips as they rested their chin in the palm of her hand. Longing to chase after them and demand to be included. But the smile on Fred’s lips made those damn butterflies explode in y/n’s stomach yet again. And they stayed put in their sea and instead diverted their attention to their potions textbook and parchment.

Y/n stared at the pages. And stared. And stared. But they couldn’t bring themselves to read the book. They’re mind fixated on their situation.

What to do? That was the question. I can’t keep avoiding him. I miss my friends. What if…?

The thought of confessing came up. It wasn’t a terrible idea. Y/n supposed that if he felt the same, perhaps that darn giddy feeling would start to get more comfortable. And if he didn’t, well, then they’d just have to get over it. Easy peasy. Right?

Y/n rolled their eyes at their thoughts and sucked in a breath. Forcing themself to get back to the essay. After all. They shouldn’t be spending so much time worrying over a silly crush. Not when they had classes to pass.

Y/n didn’t see Fred until the next day as they walked to breakfast. The ginger was weirdly without his twin as he caught sight of his friend. Immediately, a smile formed on his lips as he jogged over to catch up with them.

“Well look who it is.” He laughed, wrapping his arm around y/n’s shoulders and pulling them to his side. Y/n jumped in surprise at the sudden intrusion. They knew exactly who it was just by the sound of his voice.

“Merlin, you almost gave me a heart attack.” Y/n scoffed in a playful manner and shoving off the arm around their shoulder. His touch was already making Y/n feel nervous. “Where’s George?” They realized that only one twin was present.

“Forgot to do his Charms homework. Trying to finish it up now.” He chucked, shoving his hands in his pockets as he walked beside his friend. “We haven’t seen much of you lately. Care to explain?”

“You know. Trying to get schoolwork done.” Y/n shrugged their shoulders.

“That’s rubbish.” Fred chuckled, looking over at them with a curious look. But, y/n stayed silent. “Come one. You can talk to me.”

The thought came up again. Tell him the truth. So with a deep breath, y/n looked up at them and the two slowed their walking pace. “Alright.” They sighed with a nod. “Just promise that what I’m about to tell you won’t change anything.”

Fred furrowed his eyebrows and he only got more confused. “That’s awfully suspicious, but I promise.”

Y/n pulled Fred off to the side of the hall and took in a deep breath. “So, I’ve sort of been crushing on someone.” They started nervously.

Fred smiled widely and leaned his side on the wall. When y/n said that his interest was piqued. “Oh? Go on. Do I know them?”

“Yes, actually. Quite well, I’d say.” Y/n smiled, also leaning into the wall. “He’s tall, confident, incredible quidditch player too.” They listed.

“I don’t suppose he also had red hair and a knack for pranks.” Fred continued and y/n nodded softly. A knowing smirk grew on his face now. “I know exactly who you’re talking about.” He pointed.

“You do?” Y/n looked at him hopefully. Holding in a tiny breath.

“Of course I do.” He said confidently. Y/n grinned and straightened their posture, not really sure what to do now. “You know what. Be by the Great Lake tonight at 7:30.” He planed as walked backward, heading to his original destination.

“O- Okay.” Y/n agreed with a light laugh, trying to suppress just how happy they were. Fred sent them one more grin before finally turning around and heading off.

A blush crept onto y/n cheeks and they quickly covered their mouth with their hand. That uncomfortable, fluttery feeling stuck around. But now it wasn’t unwelcome.

A cold breeze swept by making y/n shiver and pull their jacket closer to themselves. They kept a small, excited smile as they walked towards the lake. Winter was quickly approving and the sun hung low in the sky. Its golden rays reflected off the water.

No one else was at the lake yet, leaving y/n alone as they waited for Fred. Taking a seat off to the side and leaning on a tree, y/n tossed stones into the water, occasionally looking back at the path, knowing he’d be coming down any moment from now.

Another stone plopped into the water just as the sound of crunching leaves grabbed y/n attention. “About time you showed up.” They called out before turning around and seeing a person they didn’t expect. “George?”

“Y/n?” He asked back, just as equally confused that y/n. “What are you doing here?”

Y/n crossed their arms over their chest and tilted their head. “Well, you’re brother told me to be here.”

George sighed and he shook his head. “Fred also told me to be here.”

“That makes no sense.” Y/n scoffed. A visible frown on their face as they tried to understand what they did wrong. Did Fred not want to break their heart so he sent George over instead? No, that’s not it. “Why would he-?” Y/n stopped midsentence, as they thought back to the conversation from before.

George still looked confused, raising his brows as he waited for y/n to continue with their sentence. “Well?”

“George, where might I find your brother?” Y/n asked him in a curious but also anxious tone.

“Gryffindor common room, most likely. Why?” He answered.

Y/n started walking back towards the castle with haste and George followed close behind them. “I need you to get me into the Gryffindor common room if you don’t mind.” They said, with a hoping look. The twins have given y/n the password before, but considering that it’s been some time since last joining them in the common room, y/n seems to have forgotten it.

“Alright, but do you want to tell me what this is all about?” The younger twin continued to try and cure his confusion.

“Your brother is an idiot.” Y/n answered simply and plainly.

George shrugged in agreeance. “Well, maybe you want to tell me something that I don’t already know.”

The Gryffindor room was usually pretty lively, especially on weekends. Upon entering the room full of Gryffindors, George and y/n were immediately greeted with warm hello’s. Y/n was never unwelcome from the Gryffindors, not for being a Slytherin. They were seen in the Gryffindor common room almost daily.

Fred looked over at the two and paused in his conversation with Angelina. Leaning into the armrest of the couch he shrugged. “You two are back early. How was the date?”

“Date?” Y/n scoffed. They sounded amused, but the look they gave him was pure annoyance and disbelief.

George’s face twisted in a sort of disgusted look. “Is that what that was meant to be?”

“Honestly Fred are you that dense?” Y/n grumbled. All of their intentions to speak to him and clear up the misunderstanding were starting to diminish.

The oldest twin furrowed his brow. “Well I thought-”

“Right, you never seem to think do you.” Y/n grumbled. The common room around them got significantly quiet as the curious students listened in to the bickering. Y/n glanced at the numerous eyes on them. “Forget it. It doesn’t matter.” They sharply turned around, walking out of the Gryffindor room and back out into the hall.

Fred stared after them for a moment, not quite sure where he should go after them. “Well?” George got his attention. “Aren’t you going to go talk to them?”

The ginger nodded quickly and scurried off the couch and out into the halls. Y/n was already walking down the first set of stairs. “Y/n! Hold up.” He called and jogged down the stairs after them.

Y/n picked up their pace and clenched their fist. “Fred, I’m really not in the mood.” They replied with an annoyed tone.

“I noticed. I just wanted to help.” He finally caught up to them, and when he did, y/n stopped in their tracks to glare up at him.

“So you set me up on a date with your brother when I didn’t even know about it?” They snapped.

“I told you to be there. I assumed that you know what I was saying.”

“Well, you obviously assumed wrong. In that entire conversation, you assumed wrong.” Y/n stared up at him as they gathered the courage to be upfront and to avoid letting the older twin assume wrong again. “I was never talking about George, Fred. I was trying to confess that I like you.”

Fred stood there in disbelief for a moment. “You- You like me?” He said in a question.

“Yes.” Y/n huffed. “You’re just too damn thickheaded.” I relieved chuckled left teh ginger’s lips, only making the Slytherin glare at him even more. “Think this is funny, do you?”

“I’m just relieved.” He confessed. His hands went up to cup y/n’s cheeks and they didn’t move. Instead, they just stiffened at the touch, the fluttering feeling entering their stomach. “I never wanted you to go on a date with George, I just wanted to make you happy.”

Y/n scoffed, but their face softened and a smile grew on their lips. “You, Fred Weasley are-”

“An idiot?” He finished, stepping even closer to the Slytherin. “I know.” Y/n looked up at him with a sparkle in their eye.

“Well? Are you going to kiss me yet or are you just assuming that I don’t want one?” Y/n teased. Fred smiled widely as he leaned down to finally press a soft and longing kiss.

The nervous feeling that y/n felt slowly disappeared. They didn’t feel uncomfortable or flustered. But they still had that giddy feeling. And the fluttering butterflies never left.

#Fred weasley x reader #Fred Weasley #Harry Potter #fred weasley x slytherin!reader #fred weasley x y/n

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inkedtae · 4 years

Note

#6 Jungkook Fluff ... smut if you want, but fluffy fluff

➻ prompt from dabble drabble

⤑ #6 “Baby, could you be happy here with me?”

⤑ word count; 1.9k

⤑ rating; pg

⤑ warnings; swearing

➻ le playlist

a quick drabble before i call it a night. enjoy!

Time stood still amongst the dust and cobwebs. The attic preserved generations of forgotten family ties as rays of the setting sun seeped through the dirty windows. Jungkook sang a quiet tune, his angelic voice bouncing off the old wooden walls. He had his back to you, sifting through old letters and age-stained documents. He tsked to himself, slightly quirking his head to the side, and set whatever he was looking at aside.

You pushed yourself up on the landing from the ladder, the old floors creaking beneath your feet. That sweet melody of his ceased and he turned to the noise. His eyes crinkled as he smiled at you over his shoulder before turning back to the birth certificate in his hand.

“Did you find it?” you asked, tip-toeing your way between ruined furniture and abandoned knick knacks. A little toy car hid from your line of sight and you stepped on it, squealing in surprise at the little squeak that left it. You froze in your place, trying to lean over the stack of books that blocked you for seeing what the hell that was. For all you knew it could’ve been a mouse or something of that nature.

Jungkook, about to answer, turned back to you, concern washed over his face. He chuckled to himself when he saw your terrified expression. “Babe, it’s just a toy,” he smiled, taking two big steps around the mess that kept you too apart. He held his hand out for you and you took it, letting him guide you to where he was previously standing. There was very little space by that particular box he was looking through, your bodies pressed together when you finally reached him.

You looked up at him, eyes wide as you took in his features up close. “Hi,” you giggled. Puckering your lips, you only just reach up to peck the little dot beneath his lip.

Jungkook breathed a chuckle, warm air fanning over your face. He kissed your temple, smiling down at you. “Hey,” he replied, “how are things downstairs?”

You shrugged, before turning your body to box, picking up the letters he set down to go help you. Your new position forced him out of the way. He chuckled to himself and quickly adapted, positioning himself behind you. His arms wrapped around your waist, the side of his face pressed to yours as he read the letter over your shoulder.

“Are they still arguing over how to properly tape a box?” he asked. You could hear the smirk in his voice and, without even having to look over your shoulder, you knew that his eyes were sparkling with amusement.

You shook your head. “No, your dad’s cleaning up the mess in the living room now,” you replied. “And your mom gave me and your brother an earful about how to properly pick out pretty plate settings for special dinners.”

Jungkook sighed, kissing your cheek tenderly. “I’m sorry,” he chuckled. You could tell he was feeling bad for forcing you to stop by his grandmother’s house with his family before your planned trip to Tokyo. “I promise the moment we find that stupid music box, we’re gone. We don’t even have to stay for dinner.”

You froze, turning your head to look up at him. “You put me through six lessons of plate picking and now you wanna deprive me of a meal?” you jokingly asked. He chuckled, looking down guiltily at the letter. You knew he was wanting to change the subject, to slip away from the question quietly, and that only made you laugh harder.

You kissed his cheek when you settled down a bit, catching him by surprise, then giggled. “I’m just teasing you, kookie. You know I really like your family. Your dad always grumbles things under his breath about your mom. And when he thinks she’s not around, he’d teach us the real way of picking plate settings.”

Jungkook laughed, shaking his head. “Yup, that sounds like him. Has she caught him yet?”

“Nope,” you smiled, “but your brother and I came up with a signal so if she does neither of us will miss it.”

His face didn’t reflect the same excitement as yours, eyes slowly turning vacant as if he was lost in a trace. Your smile wavered a bit as you gazed up at him. You bit your lip, wondering if you had maybe said something offensive, or taken this whole teasing his parents thing too far.

“Do you like the house?” he suddenly whispered, tightening his arms around you. Your back was flush against his chest now and he rested his forehead on yours.

You nodded, voice caught in your throat. His eyes looked so lost, searching for something within your gaze. “It’s been in your family for generations, right?” you whispered.

“Hm,” he hummed in agreement. “The entire Jeon line lived in this house at one point. My mom used to make us stay over the summer.”

“So you’ve been up here a lot,” you murmured only to have him shake his head.

He licked his lips, flickering his gaze down to your mouth before continuing, “only once before when I was ten, I think. My grandma wanted me to place a box of her things up here. I put it right here,” he said, glancing at the box before you. “It was early in the morning. I saw the light hit something shiny in there so I opened the box and found the most beautiful music box. It was placed over a pile of letters and photos. I wanted to open it, but she called on me at the bottom of the ladder.”

You listened carefully, letting his sweet voice lull you into this dream-like memory of his. “Why’s this music box so special to you?” you quietly questioned. You had been wanting to ask him that question since he brought it up two nights ago when he announced your detour.

He kissed each of your cheeks then the tip of your nose, making you blush. “This place has a certain charm, don’t you think?” he asked instead.

You were too flustered by his tender kisses to fight him on the topic change. “Charm seems to be a Jeon family trait,” you teased, biting your lip.

He chuckled, nudging his nose against yours. You laughed along with him, that vacant look resurfacing.

“Baby, could you be happy here with me?” His voice was barely above a whisper, only just reaching your ears. The husk in his voice sparked wild nerves up and down your spine, making you all but shiver against his strong embrace.

“Yes,” you breathed, gaze flickering down to his lips.

He smiled then pressed his lips to yours. The kiss was the most gentle you've ever shared, his precious lips softly pushing upon yours. You were still gasping for air when he pulled away, remaining in the trance of his kiss with your eyes still shut.

“I asked my grandma about the music box when I came down,” he continued the tale, picking up where he left off. “She told me that it was an heirloom, passed down from father to son when the son met the woman he loved. My parents had returned it to my grandmother when they were moving to a smaller place, wanting to keep it safe here.”

He tucked his face in your neck, peppering your skin with little kisses. “ I asked my dad about it a few days ago,” he muttered against the crook of your neck. “He told me it was still somewhere up here and that they were coming here over the weekend so I could come look for it then if I wanted to.”

You inhaled sharply as he sucked on that particular spot, licking the little mark when he was done, and kissed it. “What exactly are you trying to tell me, Jeon?” you basically gasped, eyes fluttering open.

“That I love you, baby,” Jungkook replied with very little hesitance. He met your gaze again and you finally realized what that look was, that vacant, dazed look he’d been holding this entire time. It was admiration; the look of a goofy, dorky man in love.

You smiled, a little giggle escaping you. You were about to tell him that you loved him too, when a strangled bird’s call sounded.

Jungkook’s face contorted with disgust as he looked around the attic for the source. “What the fuck was that?”

“The signal!” you shouted, quickly turning around to make your way back to the ladder.

In the midst of the excitement, you seemed to forget how little space there was for the two of you to move at the same time and you ended up tripping over your own feet, reaching for the box in front of you while Jungkook reached for your frame, trying to catch you before you fell.

The piles and bounds of letters and loose documents spilled out, a small little white box, tumbling out with them.

“Fuck, are you okay?” Jungkook asked, pulling you up. He had his hands on your hips, looking up and down your frame to make sure there weren’t any cuts or little bruises you collected from your fall.

You pushed his left hand away so you could bend down and pick the dusty little box. Jungkook fell silent beside you. Even covered with a thick layer of dust and dirt, it was still beautiful. You wiped the grim off with your finger as you stood back up, examining the tiger lily painted on the top. You looked up at him, silently asking to open it.

Jungkook smiled and nodded, eager to see what was inside too. You unclasped the gold hook and gently pushed it open. The soft, dream-like tune echoed in the room and you snapped your head up at Jungkook, immediately recognizing it. “How did you-”

“I didn’t,” he quickly replied, looking just as shocked as you did. “My grandma used to sing that to me all the time when I’d visit,” he explained.

The choked caw of a bird returned, louder this time, cutting over the sweet tune.

“Of all the signals to come up with,” Jungkook smirked. “You picked the sound of a dead bird?”

“It’s a dove,” you corrected.

He rolled his eyes, muttering a little “whatever” under his breath. You ignored him, about to walk back to the ladder when he suddenly picked you up.

“You have no idea how to get through here, babe, let’s not kid ourselves,” he chuckled as he carried you to the exit.

You descended down first, looking up at him. He was looking down at you, waiting for you to fully land on your feet before following. His eyes redirected to the right for a moment as a smile played on his lips. “What?” he nervously chuckled. “You’re missing the scolding.”

You reached up and pressed your lips to his softly, just as he had done to you earlier. “Thanks for the music box,” you smiled.

He looked up at the ceiling, trying to fight off a smile. “When did I say it was for you?” he teased as you descended down the ladder.

“Because I’ve been holding it since we found it and you hadn't asked for it back at all.”

He jumped down the last few steps, turning to look at you. He bit his lip to hold back his grin but it only made him want to smile even more. “I would like it back no-”

“Too late; it’s mine,” you declared, running away from him.

“(Y/N)!”

“Jungkook!”

#jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook fluff #bts jeon jungkook #bangtanfairygarden #bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts jungkook #jungkook fluff #requested

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scullysexual · 3 years

Text

A Jewel Beneath The Moonlight [Reposted Anniversary]

If you’ve get to read the first chapter, you can read it on Tumblr. Alternatively, you can also find it on AO3 along with this chapter.

@today-in-fic @mypanicface @impulsive-astrophile @enigmaticxbee

- - -

Chapter Two.

The accommodation is located on B-deck, easy enough to find. Phoebe and Mother get stopped along the way, a conversation proceeds in the middle of the hallway between the two women and some other people Mulder doesn’t care to remember the name of. His father shakes his head leading Mulder away.

“They’ll come when they’re ready,” Bill says as they continue to walk to their rooms.

And the rooms are nice enough; mahogany furniture, floral tapestries covering the couches and chairs. The bedroom is large: a walk-in wardrobe Phoebe should hopefully be happy with. He touches the pillows and his disappointment comes when he finds they are feather. He places it back down.

What’s a bit of lack of sleep for a week?

In the mirror, he catches the reflection of the safe. Spinning around on his heels, he walks over to it, pulling it open. His hand strokes the inside feeling the cold iron. It’s of decent size, enough room to place valuables. He looks to the carry-on he’d brought on with him, an idea in his head. Reaching into the bag, his fingers gripping hold of the old leather book. Pulling it out, he places it inside the safe. With a bit of manoeuvring he manages to fit it in and is still able to lock the safe afterwards.

Few people know about that book, a few more know about his talent that comes with it. Phoebe knew about the talent but not the book. His parents know briefly of his talent but again, not the book. The book is his and while he is in no way ashamed of his drawings- in fact, if one were to turn the first page they would be met with a very innocent drawing of his sister, however a bit further on and they’ll find the not-so-innocent drawings. It was those he wanted to keep secret.

“Fox!” he hears Phoebe’s clear-cut voice break through the air. Sighing, his moment of peace over, he double-checks that the safe is shut and locked and exits the bedroom to see his dearly beloved fiancé and the mutt she holds in a cage.

Mulder groans.

“Did you really have to bring that thing, Phoebe?”

Phoebe looks at him as though he’s just told her she wouldn’t be eating dinner for a month.

“Of course I had to bring her Fox,” she says in utter disgust. “Did you just expect me to leave her behind?” She takes the Maltese out of its cage, giving the cage to one of her maids before she holds the animal up.

“I know you don’t like the cage, sweetie. You can stay out of it from now on.” The dog begins fussing in her arms and Phoebe gasps. “Tuppence needs a potty break,” she hands the dog out to Mulder. “Take her.”

Mulder stares at the hairball currently in his face. “Can’t you take her?” he asks, careful to use the word ‘her’ rather than ‘it’.

“I can’t. I need to unpack.”

“I can do that.”

Phoebe looks at him like he’s grown another head.

“No, you’ll just put things in the wrong place.”

Mulder sighs and accepts his punishment.

“Alright, where’s the leash?”

Maybe it shouldn’t come as a surprise that the doggy pooping area is the third class deck but it does. He had looked for an actual area originally but there didn’t seem to be one that existed, he just followed the crowd in a sense and saw another dog doing its business down there.

He lets the dog get on with it, lets it take its time too, maybe it’ll wander too far to the rail and fall off the ship, but Mulder doubts he’s that lucky.

His attention moves away from the dog to the people. A man and his daughter who sits on the rails, her back against his chest, an arm securing her so she doesn’t fall off. The father points to the islands in the distance. Mulder can’t hear the words but he imagines that she’s telling her the names of them, maybe stories about who those people were. Maybe the man knows who the people were.

A second man, older than the first, sits on a bench with his eyes shut and lets the breeze ruffle what little hair he has.

Mulder’s eyes move to another little girl who kicks a ball over to a red-headed boy. The boy picks the ball up, turning his face to the sky and Mulder watches as he balances the ball on his nose like a sealion in a zoo. The little girl laughs and as does another girl with the same red hair as the boy. Mulder finds himself drawn to it and drawn to the girl, a genuine smile breaking out across his face for what feels like the first time in a long time, his stomach twisting and heart folding in on itself all in a good way as he stares at her. Whatever this feeling is, he likes it.

“How old you do think that boy is?” a voice beside him asks. Mulder startles, never even hearing the man approach. “Fifteen? Sixteen?” Mulder moves his gaze back over to the red haired boy. “When I was fifteen, my father sent me off to boarding school.”

“You envy them?” Mulder asks. Most people he’s met in his life scorn them, question how they could live like that. A change in tune is a nice welcome.

“A little bit. Makes you wonder what experiences he’s had this far.”

The boy turns and Mulder is taken back slightly by the gash on his face.

“He’s experienced a good punch if that cut is anything to go by,” Mulder laughs. He stretches his arm out towards the man. “I’m Mulder,” he says.

The name strikes no recognition with a man for which Mulder is absolutely grateful for.

“John Byers.”

Similarly, the name does strike any recognition for Mulder either. The two shake hands just as the dogs wander over. Mulder opens the gate, attaching the leash back onto Tuppence.

“I’ll see you at dinner, then?” Byers calls as Mulder makes his way back inside.

“Yes, you will.”

Dinner turns out to be a dull affair, minus the bit of drama beforehand: Phoebe’s hissy-fit at not “having anything to wear”. Mulder had got back to the room to find that everything had been packed away. The walk-in wardrobe he thought Phoebe would be fine with only has enough room to fit half her clothes into. She’d cried that she wasn’t prepared to live out of her suitcase for a week. Mulder had compromised, given up the small area he’d reserved for his clothes to fit the rest of Phoebe’s. Now his clothes reside in his father’s room.

All in all, the whole debacle had delayed them by thirty minutes.

Other than that, the dinner itself was a dull affair. Mulder was continuingly zoning out throughout it, his thoughts entirely focused upon the girl on the deck. Who was she? Why couldn’t he think of anything else? Why did he feel what he felt? What did he even feel?

“Fox…Fox…” he swears he hears his Mother saying.

It’s Phoebe’s sigh of annoyance that forces him out of his reverie.

“He’s doing that thing again, Mother.”

“Fox!” his father barks. Mulder looks to his father, dazed for a moment and fully aware he has no idea what conversation is going on. “Mr Skinner is speaking to you.”

Mulder looks towards the bald man, only now realising that he had joined their table.

“I’m sorry, Mr Skinner,” Mulder apologises. “You were saying?”

“I was just congratulating you and Miss Green on your engagement,” Skinner tells him.

Mulder smiles and reaches for Phoebe’s hand on the table, clasping their fingers together. Not showing anything is amiss, Phoebe smiles.

“Thank you, Mr Skinner,” Mulder says. He looks to Phoebe then. “My only wish is for this week to hurry so I can soon make Phoebe my wife officially.”

He brings the hand he holds to his lips then, placing a gentle kiss to the top of it. And Phoebe sincerely smiles at him.

Mulder’s never hated himself more.

Just as they’re finishing their third course does the conversation change once more. Mulder pays no mind to it, he nods when he’s expected to and that is all.

“You’re old friend Bill,” a man from the farther end of the table shouts over. “Spender- is he on the ship, do you know?”

“I saw his son before,” says Phoebe. “He didn’t look too happy.”

“You remember Jeffrey, don’t you, son?” Bill asks Mulder.

“Yes, he was in my Psychology class at Oxford,” Mulder answers simply before going back to his soup.

The man at the end of the table pipes up again. “I never saw the point in educating yourself on those types of subjects. Seems a waste of time.”

“Fox has a special knack for reading people, don’t you?”

Mulder nods. And I can read you people better than you think.

Dessert is on its way when the conversation changes once more. The man at the end of the table telling everyone, once again, that he has an opinion to make.

“Would anyone else sleep better knowing we weren’t sharing a boat with steerage?”

Mulder’s stomach twists.

“Mother and I saw some wandering down our hallway earlier. How they managed to get up there, I have no idea.”

“Maybe they were just lost, Phoebe,” Mulder says as gently as he can, the anger seething beneath.

“Whatever they’re excuse, a crewmember soon shouted at them to leave and off they scurried off.”

“Like rats in the woodwork, back down to the basement were they belong,” the man at the end of the table gruffly laughs.

“I’m sure they won’t be an issue anymore,” says Father.

Done with the conversation and dinner all together, Mulder denies dessert as its served.

“I just feel a bit sick,” Mulder says when questioned.

“You might have caught something off the docks earlier,” says Phoebe reaching up to touch his forehead. She looks to the gathering worriedly, “He is burning up.”

Mulder brings her hand away. “I’ll see you later on,” he says and with that he leaves the table, no kiss, no hug, no form of intimacy at all, he just leaves.

The breeze is welcomed from the hot and stuffy dining room. For all their visitors at the table Mulder hoped the man he met earlier- Byers- would have joined them. It would have been nice to know someone thought the same things as him.

He makes his way to the back of the ship, away from on-lookers and those who would judge him, happy to find the stern empty.

He walks over to the rails, feeling the cold oak between his fingers as he looks out to the darkness around him. His mind drifts back to earlier, to the father and daughter and he finds himself beginning to climb the rails.

His heart is in this throat every step. Mulder never considered himself afraid of much, if he was dared to do something he’d do it but maybe it’s the fact that he’s alone that scares him. Whenever a dare in involved there’s always at least another person, someone to catch you if you fall, someone to pull you back when they get too scared but out here it’s only him- only him, the ship, and the sea and if he falls that’s it.

He thinks about how that little girl must have felt. Was she scared at first? Did she refuse to sit on the rail for fear of falling? Was it only when she felt her father behind her, arms around her chest that she felt safe, that she knew she wasn’t going to fall?

“I hope you’re not considering jumping?”

Mulder startles, almost losing his balance in the process. He grips the rails tighter, wondering if this was such a good idea after all.

A nervous laugh falls from his lips.

“I wasn’t until you nearly made me.”

“Sorry,” the woman says. A woman’s voice. “I just saw you climb up there and got a wee bit nervous, that’s all.”

Mulder twists slightly so he can see the person. As he turns, he almost falls again when he realises who’s standing there.

The red-headed girl from earlier.

“Maybe you should get down,” she says, face a full display of concern. She edges closer slowly. “It’s a long way down if you fall off.”

She leans against the rails just as he’d done earlier.

“Maybe I like the risk,” Mulder says, a façade of a fearless smile appearing across his face. Really, he was shitting bricks.

“You won’t like the fall,” she says, her voice serious, no hint of the playfulness he’s trying to have. “It’ll be like hitting concrete and if you just so happened to survive that, it won’t take long for the cold to get ye.”

Mulder looks down into the water directly below him.

“How long we talking?” he asks.

Her answer is quick, ready like she’d been prepared to answer all along.

“Thirty minutes for the hypothermia to kick in, one to two hours before you die.” The facts all out, she turns sombre and concerned once more. “Not exactly a quick death if that’s what you wanted.”

Gaining her point, he begins to twist on the rails, back to the sea as he jumps down.

“There,” he says, dusting himself off. “No harm done.” He looks down at her, realising just how much he towers over her. Phoebe is tall for a woman, almost his height in heels, but this girl…Mulder estimates she not much taller than 5’4.

He stretches out his hand, curious as to why the universe has thrown her in his path for a second time that day and even more curious to know why she knows so much about cold water.

“I’m Mulder.”

She ignores his hand, an eyebrow shooting up. “Mulder? I’m not entitled to a first name?”

Mulder laughs nervously again, throwing his arm to his side. “You don’t want to know it.”

She regards him, as if wondering whether he is worth an interest in or not.

“In that case…” she draws out. “I’m Scully.”

#a jewel beneath the moonlight #chapter 1 #updated #anniversary repost #i write

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nomadmilk · 4 years

Text

Why the God Isn’t Bored on Midgard - Loki x F!Reader Drabble - 9

Summary: With Ragnarok decimating Asgard, Thor and Loki and their people return to Earth searching for refuge. Everyone else has seemed to settle, except for Loki - the God of Mischief and Chaos - who isn’t willing to live the domesticated Midgard life, and getting utterly bored out of his mind… Until he discovered you.

Word Count: 2K

Warnings: Rated M/18+. Loki in a sex shop. Thirsty friend. Strong mentions of Dom/Sub, and bondage implications.

Author’s Note: He could have just conjured up some toys if he wanted to, right?

Here are the other parts to the series: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 8.5 Part 9

Walking around the shop was good enough to stop the tremble in your legs; standing was becoming difficult since you and Loki started being more than just roommates and living together.

If you weren’t sorting out stock in the back, your leg muscles would start feeling like jelly. If you weren’t reorganizing the bra and lingerie sets on the displays, you could feel your knees start giving in. And the worst, if you weren’t doing anything at all, the dull pain of your joints would start setting off all those things at the same time.

It made you slightly flustered, as it was a constant reminder of Loki, and his stamina.

Your colleagues were suspicious. You had just finished your starting weeks, and you were working harder than they’ve ever seen you before. The manager of the day had given you a few more tasks out of your request, and you even insisted in any extra training you could do today. They doubted it was to get a promotion, since you just began working there, so they assumed it was for a needed raise.

But, little did they know what you’d been doing. It was good that they didn’t know; you knew how fast workplace gossip spreads.

On the other hand, that didn’t stop them from bombarding you with questions.

You were asked to man the till with the staff member you had grown closer with, and she had been prying you for the past fifteen minutes in between re-labelling the desk products and serving customers.

“What’s up with you?”

You were in the middle of placing some money in the till, thanking the customer with a receipt. “What do you mean what’s up with me?”

She relaxed, leaning forward on her elbows and glancing up at you by your side. “I mean, is there something wrong? You seem to be flying through the shelves today.”

“Me?” You pick up the labeller, changing its words, and placing new stickers on some mini vibrators. “I-I’m just working as normal. And, no, there’s nothing wrong… I’m just getting along with my day, y’know?”

Your legs were beginning to twitch.

Having sex with Loki felt like you had been waiting for it since he arrived in the apartment for the first time. It felt good. The whole night felt so good. You felt ridiculous when you woke up this morning, finding out that your entire lower region was shaking. Despite it all, you still had a life to live, and you couldn’t be distracted with Loki and sex, especially at work.

“You sure?” She asks.

“Yup.” You continue stamping on labels.

She looks at you, up and down. “Uh-huh.”

About to remark her nosy attitude and tone, you’re interrupted by another customer.

“Excuse me.”

Both of your eyes snap up to see Loki.

“Loki!” You gasp, dropping the labeller. Your colleague swears under her breath. “Uh – I mean – Hi, sir, how can I help you?”

His irises seem greener and more iridescent than ever as he squints at you, questioning the address. He’s dressed in his usual smart casual wear; a buttoned shirt with the collar loosened, black fitted trousers and, telling by the slight click on the ground as he shifts, his signature raven wingtips.

As always, he out dressed everyone in the room.

From the corner of your eye, you could see your colleague recover from the jump, picking up the labeller that had clattered to the ground, and shoving it away in a shelf underneath the till. She rapidly straightened up, entranced by him. When you took a quick glimpse around the store, there were a few ladies that were peering, or more so ogling, his way.

Loki knew how handsome he was already. But the awed gazes gave his smirk an egotistical accent.

You roll your eyes.

Although you were surprised by Loki’s appearance, you were confused as to why he was here at your workplace. You and him rarely see each other, intentionally or accidentally, outside of the apartment, anyway. So, what was he doing here?

As if he had read your mind, he places his basket in front of you. “May I have a bag with these?”

“Of course.” You reply. Reaching for one of the pink bags, your colleague snags one from under the desk and preps it for you. She grins widely at you, eyes flitting back and forth from both you and the tall god.

Clearing your throat, you focus on the till screen as your hand attains the first item out of the basket; lube.

“That’s a good brand.” Your colleague chimes, gulping. “…Are you Asgardian, by any chance?”

“Yes, I am.” He responds. The scanner beeps. “I’ve been told that might help ease things in a little better.”

The lube bagged, you could practically hear your colleague’s thoughts scream as she looks at you. You clench your jaw, death glares telling her to control herself.

Regardless of the annoyance, you blush slightly, knowing fully well how blessed Loki’s lower regions were, and what they were capable of.

But you wanted to remain professional, so you resumed scanning his items like the customer he was.

You pick up the next product; a restraint kit.

Heart stopping, your death glares turn to Loki. He bares his teeth, watching the glow of your embarrassment as you hesitate to read the contents.

“Wow.” Your colleague chimes in again, gawking a little at the same box. “Are you – uh – into bondage?”

Legs beginning to tremble, you try to keep them still by locking your knees. You scan the box, and it’s bagged.

Loki nods, poised. “It’s just something my darling and I are interested in exploring. She’s unsure, but I’m hoping these will win me her favour.”

Your friend was still enthusiastic. “We have novice packs, actually, if the two of you have just started? The one you got is the advanced pack – spank paddles, bed binds, and all.”

“Oh?” He glances at you. “Yes, I did see the other packs, but she did express interest in being tied up, so I thought I’d buy the pack that might, uh… Maximise the experience.”

If there was an opportunity to kick Loki, you would have taken it, but the stupid desk was in the way. He knew what he was doing; the smirk, the composure, you’d seen it before, and it was getting easier to spot it every time. Despite it all, the most infuriating thing every time, was how he could do it all with such a courteous demeanour.

Even though your sense of work ethic overrode your reactions for the time being, you were still feeling your palms and neck sweat a little. Your views on his behaviours had changed, and instead of finding them extremely aggravating, it was starting to turn you on.

“Okay.” Your friend nods, impressed. “… Would you be interested in our ‘Dom and Sub’ line?- Oh!”

A dark rosewood lingerie set was held in your hands by the hanger. Searching for the tag, you find its size before the barcode; perfect to fit you. Upon closer inspection, the set was held together by strings of red, and patches of beautifully patterned mesh.

Your eyes widen; there were cuts, providing an opening for your intimate parts.

“Do you have this in any other colour?” Loki asks, pointing at the set as you scan it.

“I think there might be more at the back.” Taking the opportunity to escape, you answer, setting the lingerie aside. “Let me just-“

“Oh, no, I’ll do it.” Your colleague winks, rubbing your shoulders and pulling you back before zipping off. “I’ll even get the matching suspenders and stockings, if you’d like?”

Loki tilts his head, approving the offer. “That would be wonderful.”

You sigh, dragging your eyes to Loki.

You lean over the counter to shout-whisper at him. “What are you doing here?”

“You wanted to know more about me, Y/N. I’m just providing you with more information.”

“Like, what?” You grab the scarlet bra and panties and shake it at him. “This doesn’t tell me anything about you. It just tells me that-… That you like this stuff.”

Loki frowns in confusion. “Yes, exactly. I thought you’d look gorgeous being ravished in it.”

Conflicting emotions of arousal and rage beckons to act on one or the other. Loki had a knack of being able to say the right thing, even if it was the wrong place and time, and still get away with it.

You let go of the garment, flopping it onto the surface.

You take a deep breath. “Loki, I-I never asked what your kinks were.”

“But I like knowing yours.” His lighthearted exterior fades, but there’s a twinkle in his gaze. “You need to stop blushing, my love. You’re giving me too many thoughts.”

Words echoing, you freeze. Your heart seemed to tremble underneath his gaze, and his velvet voice had taken yours away.

Using the back of your palms, you feel the heat of your cheeks.

Your colleague returns, hearing her footsteps behind you and being beside you again. She arranges the new colors of the garment in front of him. “Here you are.”

Like a switch, his false kind smile is back, and his laugh is refreshing. “Wow, thank you for this.”

“Okay, so the wine-reddish one you have is the ‘Little Lust Red’, but we also have this navy blue one here – it’s called ‘Baby, be my Daddy Blue’ – Or this one-“ – she surveys the tag of the third – “- it’s ‘Good girl for my Highness Green’, this one’s kind of special – it has some pearl detail, as you can see.”

Did she have to say the color names out loud?

You try to evade the conversation, concentration back on the till screen, as if it was of any importance. Your foot taps repeatedly on the tiled floor, ignoring Loki’s agonising scrutiny of the lingerie before him. You made the mistake of glancing at the pretty sets, then checking Loki, thumb pressed on his bottom lip in thought.

Loki looks at you, dressing and undressing you in them in his mind, one by one. The red would be stunning on you, although the blue had a shade of innocence on you that made it more gratifying to ruin, but the green… The string of pearls served as a replacement of cloth for your most intimate and sensitive area. And the thought of the beads brushing your clit, with it’s cold and smooth surface, was making Loki think of your warm body indulging in all the senses and stimulation he could give you.

“I’d be delighted in taking all of them, if I’m not being too greedy.” He says.

Your colleague, beaming from ear to ear, scans them for you, folding and stashing them away in the bag with the rest. “Amazing, I’ll just pop that in there for you…”

Your colleague glances at you, signalling for the total cost and receipt. On autopilot, you make the transaction with Loki, letting your colleague do most of the customer service chatting for you.

You stare at the bag in his grasp. The lingerie sets were gorgeous, and it wouldn’t take a lot of convincing on Loki’s part to make you wear them; lace was a fabric that you grew to enjoy the texture of, and their design made you curious to see how they’d frame you and your physique.

You wondered how Loki would react once he saw you in them.

“Pretty cool names, huh, Y/N?” Your colleague nudges you. “I was curious as to what he was, and I had to think it up on the spot-“

“Wait- wha-“ You blink, turning to her. “What do you mean you made them-“

She was glowing. “I wasn’t sure, but I had to know!” She peers outside the shop door, even though the God of Mischief was no longer within sight.

You follow her, trying to make sure she stays inside. “Had to know, what?”

She raises a brow at you. “He’s definitely hot, and definitely a Dom – total, total Dom! – God, I’m jealous.”

“Jealous? Why?”

“Whoever he’s screwing tonight – She is going to be spoilt rotten.”

#loki #Loki Laufeyson #loki fanfic #drabble #loki (marvel)#loki odinson #loki x reader #loki x you #Roommates #Shopping #🐄🗂TheNomaArchives

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lady-of-nightmares-and-heartache · 4 years

Text

Writing To Your Memory (Mando x Reader)

Summary: It’s been two years since you left. Not a day goes by that you don’t regret it. A reunion may be closer than you think.

Pairing: Mandalorian x Reader

Rated T: Violence, Mentions of mental health, mild swearing

Word Count: 3.931k

It’s been two years since you left. Not a day goes by that you don’t regret. You miss the Mandalorian. You try to keep busy, try to keep your mind and your heart distracted. But ignoring your problems doesn’t make them go away. You should have learned that lesson the first time.

You had been traveling with the Mandalorian for a little over two years, helping with bounties when needed. It was a good life. In him, you found a trusted acquaintance within the first month of working together. A month later, you were friends. Then that friendship turned into something else. Unfortunately, neither of you ever had the chance to give it a name.

Mando was a good guy, even if he didn’t think so himself. He always had your back, and encouraged you when you needed it most. One night, on the RazorCrest, he had stumbled upon your secret. You had a knack for writing.

You don’t know when you had picked up the hobby, but it started by keeping a catalog of supplies and what bounty you had caught that day. Then it progressed into something bigger. You wrote about the Guild and the New Republic and the fall of the Empire.

When Mando saw you furiously scribbling away at some parchment in the cargo hold, he was surprised at the concentration openly displayed on your face. He cleared his throat, alerting you to his presence. Your face flushed in embarrassment. He held out his hand, clearly gesturing for the paper. You handed it to him and sat there in silence as he read your work. You couldn’t stand the silence anymore so you had to ask.

“What do you think?”

He glanced at you, and you stared at your reflection in the visor.

“This is really good, Cyar’ika. You should do something with this.”

That got you thinking. Everyone hates the Empire, and everyone knew that even though the Empire was “gone”, Imperials and Loyalists still remained.

After discussing your crazy idea with Mando, you decided that you were going to out the remaining Imps. You and Mando went to all corners of the galaxy for bounty hunting anyway, so this wouldn’t be interfering.

You wrote articles and tips anonymously about the information you had gathered on your targets and spread them throughout cantinas and markets alike.

The New Republic caught wind of your work and thanked whoever was writing these immensely. Within three months, two Moffs, fifteen stormtroopers, and various other Imperial officers had been apprehended either by the New Republic or vengeful citizens.

All was going well until a massive bounty was placed on Anonymous (that’s what they called you before they knew). Despite Mando reassuring you that nobody would find out, eventually someone did.

You were on a hunt with Mando, looking for a big bounty that would fuel the RazorCrest for weeks. It was a relatively easy takedown and Mando knew you would want to head towards the Cantina to drop off some of your work. You had been writing less and less these days, because of the risks, but that still didn’t stop you. Mando offered to take the bounty back to the ship and that you could meet him back there when you were done. You agreed, and made sure your comm was handy just in case.

You left the Cantina with ease, and didn’t think you had been spotted. You thought wrong. Rounding the corner, you jumped as the barrel of a blaster was pressed to your temple.

“So you’re the girl that’s been giving us so much trouble? I have to say I expected… more.”

You grit your teeth and tried not to cry. You were going to die right here and never get to say goodbye.

Then you remembered the commlink in your pocket. You turned it on, praying to the Maker that Mando would hear it.

“You’re just mad it took you this long to figure out that I was behind all of the papers.”

Whoever held you captive slammed your back into the wall and you let out a wheeze. You saw your captor and realized that he must’ve been an Imperial Officer when the Empire was at its peak. Your only thought was to keep him talking.

“You’re an Imp?? How did you find me?”

He smiled coldly. “I enlisted some help. Stormtroopers and Bounty Hunters get along marvelously if the price is right.”

That’s when your brain decided to register the three troopers that flanked him. Working with the Guild and long as you have, you figured the building you were pinned against and the surrounding area was probably littered with bounty hunters.

Suddenly you wish you hadn’t used the comm to contact the Mandalorian. You wished in vain though, because not a moment after you thought it, your knight in shining armor made a grand entrance and came in guns blazing. Everyone around you dropped and he grabbed your hand.

“Cyar’ika, are you alright?” Besides the ache in your back and ribs, you were fine. You nodded your head.

Once he verified that you were mostly unharmed, he pulled you back towards the Crest and you both took off running. You’ll never forget what happened next. For some reason the Mandalorian turned his head over his shoulder and the next thing you knew you were being shoved to the side. You couldn’t even collect your bearings before you heard three consecutive shots in a row. You whirl around panicked, and see Mando unmoving on his side, his blaster a few feet in front of him.

You dive for the blaster and shoot the approaching mercenary right between the eyes. Rolling the Mandalorian onto his back, you try to assess the situation the best you can. You know you heard three shots fired, and two of the three are accounted for on his breastplate.

It feels wrong to be touching him while he’s unconscious, but this is a potential life or death situation, so he’ll just have to forgive you. As you run your hands along his sides your fingers tingle with the contact. How many times had you thought about doing this? You are abruptly ripped from your thoughts when your right hand is suddenly warm and sticky and the Mandalorian lets out a low groan.

You can’t help him here, so you drag him another hundred yards until you get to the RazorCrest. You use the second to last bacta pad and place it on his wound. You monitor him throughout the night, but you’ll soon find out it’ll be another week before he wakes up.

That week consists of the worst days of your life. With no one to talk to, and the chances of a recovery getting slimmer with each passing day, you get stuck inside your own head. You cried yourself to sleep every night. You prayed multiple times a day, and you had never prayed before that. You were an absolute mess and replaying different scenarios in your mind made everything worse. By day six you had worked out three things.

First, this is all your fault. You decided to get involved in a risky business and Mando paid the price for it. Second, you think you might be in love with him. Lastly, you can’t stay here with him. It’s too dangerous with this big of a bounty on your head.

So you made the decision to leave him as soon as you knew he’d live. You couldn’t figure out how you would tell him, so you decided to leave a letter for him.

It said:

Mando,

If you’re reading this, I am long gone by now. With a bounty as large as the one on me, I’ve come to realize that it’s no longer safe nor practical for the two of us to travel together. I know you’ll be fine with the Guild, as I’ve never been much help in a hunt anyway. I’m doing this because… because this is what I want. I know you’re the best hunter in the parsec but please, don’t go looking for me. Lastly, be mindful of your side, you’re very low on medical supplies. The last bacta patch is underneath this letter if you haven’t already seen it.

Be safe,

Cyar’ika

You weren’t going to sign the letter at all to be honest, but it seemed too impersonal not to. Cyar’ika was a nickname for you that he used often, even though you never knew what it meant. At the end of the seventh day he wakes up, just as you’re about to leave. Luckily for you, he’s disoriented so he doesn’t catch you in your lie.

You place the letter and the bacta patch on the pilots seat. You look around the cockpit one last time. You sigh, and head back down to lower the ramp. You hear his voice just before you step out.

“Cyar’ika?” his voice his raspy with disuse. Your heart clenches.

“Yeah, I’m right here.” You fail to stop your voice from shaking.

“Where are you going?” Then he winces. “What happened?”

You return to his side on the make-shift medical table in the cargo hold. “You got shot and you’ve been out for a week. I’m going to get more medical supplies and paper.” The lie burns your throat.

“Mmm.”

You assume he’s already losing consciousness again. You turn to leave but suddenly find that you can’t. Your heart is heavy and your eyes water. You stand there for a long time before you kiss his helmeted forehead. You whisper an apology and leave the RazorCrest for the last time.

———————————————————————

Life got harder without him. You continued searching for Imps and assisting the New Republic in any way you could, without being identified. You picked up a new alias, hoping it would throw others off your scent.

You had signed off your work with a new, permanent alias ever since you left the Mandalorian. Eventually the toll of life alone, and on the run had severely impacted your mental health. You were always on edge, and always felt as though you could combust at any minute.

One day as you were passing through a market, a medium-sized notebook caught your eye. You paid the merchant more than it was worth probably, but you immediately took it to your dinky ship.

You sat down and opened the book, and began to write. You didn’t know what you were going to write until the pen hit the paper. Then it just flowed right out of you.

It was a letter. To the Mandalorian. You updated him on your life, and had a one-sided conversation of sorts. When you filled up two pages, you dated the top, and signed off at the bottom. You wrote a C out of habit, then stopped. Bracing yourself, you wrote out Cyar'ika.

A single tear rolled down your face, but you already felt much better than before. So it became a habit. You wrote to him when you had bad days. You wrote when you were bored, you wrote him countless apologies and explanations and you wrote to him about how much you missed him and that you fucked up but it was too late. You filled up three notebooks with ease, and stashed them away when you finished them. Slowly, the guilt of what you did so long ago began to lessen with every page you filled.

———————————————————————

The Mandalorian looked for you for months. As talented as he was as hunting, you were equally talented at covering your tracks. Still, he didn’t give up going from planet to planet until he could find you.

He was just about to leave for the next planet when he overheard some mercenaries complain that the bounty for the anonymous writer was withdrawn.

That meant one of two things. You were dead, or you were already handed over to the Imperials. Mando’s heart dropped. He returned to his ship and slammed his fist into the wall.

He had fucking lost you. You were gone and he lost everything. He allowed himself ten seconds of grief and pure rage. When time was up, his emotions turned off. What was left of him was a stone cold shell of a bounty hunter.

He returned to Guild work as usual. What else was left for him to do? Even though he hated droids, you’d be hard pressed to spot the difference between them and him. Pick up jobs, hunt, cash-in, repeat. He became the highest producing bounty hunter within a year.

Landing on Nevarro, he met with Greef Karga as usual for the exchange. This time instead of pucks however, Karga sent Mando directly to a client for a more lucrative bounty. When he gets there, his jaw clenches at the thought of taking on a job for Imperials. The Client shows the real Beskar as payment and he can’t refuse.

“All we can offer you about the bounty is the name and tracking fob,” the Client rasps.

“That’s all?” Mando wasn’t happy.

“Your target is Carella Scarshea. I trust you’ll make quick work of this.”

The Mandalorian pocketed the tracking fob and left the Imperialist lair.

It takes him a week to find the planet that his target is currently residing on. He enters the atmosphere, hoping to be in and out. Right now he can only think about how you would be helping him out on a job like this.

———————————————————————

You’ve had to move around more and more once a new bounty was placed on your head. At least the alias would keep them busy for a while. You stopped on Coruscant to shop for a few things before you could move on to the next planet.

In the market, you bought a few more notebooks, knowing you’d fill them up in no time, and brought them back to your ship. You should have left right then and there, but to be honest, you were getting tired of space travel. You decided one last walk around the city wouldn’t hurt.

You passed by a small jewelry stand and perused some of the items. A delicate Mythosaur pendant was on display. You remembered that the Mythosaur was the symbol of the Mandalorians and you smiled sadly.

You purchased the pendant anyway, and stuffed it in your pocket. You felt a shift in the air and tensed up. You backed away from the merchant and turned around very slowly, the sense of imminent doom rising. Oddly enough, no one was there that seemed out of the ordinary. Regardless, you were unsettled. You rushed back to your ship. If you had been paying attention, you would’ve clearly realized that someone was onboard.

A blaster was pressed against your back.

“Carella Scarshea?” A modulated voice asked.

You put your hands up and nodded your head once. The man instructed you to turn around and slowly back up against the wall. You turned around and your heart nearly stopped. You were staring into the visor of a Mandalorian.

———————————————————————

The Mandalorian found his target’s ship and waited for her to return. Luckily for him he didn’t have to wait long. Something must have spooked her out there because she came barreling into the ship. He took the opportunity to point his blaster at her back before she made it to the cockpit.

“Turn around very slowly, and then back up against the wall.”

She didn’t say a word, but hesitated before doing as she was told. When she turned around and he saw her face, he felt as though he was in the vacuum of space. It took him entirely too long to holster his weapon.

It was you. You were alive. He kept running it through his head. You were alive, you were alive, you were alive. And you were standing right in front of him after these two years that felt like a lifetime.

He was only brought back from his dazed stupor by your voice.

“... Mando?” you whispered.

He suddenly came back to life. He grabbed your wrist and tugged you towards him. His other hand reached out to the underside of your jaw. Cupping your chin, he tilted your head up to look at him. Staring at his visor, your vision became blurred by unshed tears.

He must have noticed, because he then enveloped you in a bone crushing hug.

Maker, you missed him.

———————————————————————

Now that you had been reunited, you moved back into the RazorCrest. You and Mando hadn’t talked about the elephant in the room yet, but the tension was palpable. You still hadn’t unpacked your belongings. You stared at the boxes.

“You plan on disappearing again?”

Mando’s question came out more bitter than he intended, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care at the moment.

You look up to see him leaning against the door frame, his arms folded across his chest.

“That’s not fair-” you begin to protest, but Mando cuts you off.

“Isn’t it though? You lied the last time I saw you, and all I got by way of an explanation was a note!”

His voice rose as he spoke. You heard the modulator crackle as he took a deep breath.

“You do not get to tell me what’s fair.”

The anger you had expected. In fact, you were surprised that he had openly welcomed you back when he found you on your ship. You hadn’t expected to feel defensive over your decisions, but you did. You rise from your crouched position by your boxes.

“You know what’s not fair Mando? That you almost died because of me! And if you thought that I could stick around and not drown in guilt you’re wrong.”

You let the words flow, raw emotion that you had suppressed for years finally seeing the light.

“Every minute that I stayed, you were in danger. I left because I had just figured out that I loved you and I knew it wasn’t a good idea to stay after I almost lost you!”

The Mandalorian tensed and your brain registered what you had just admitted out loud. You clapped a hand over your mouth and immediately ran off of the ship.

Mando couldn’t have followed you if he tried. He was rooted to the spot. You had just said you loved him. And like an idiot, he stood there and said nothing. Which is probably why you tore off.

Mad at himself, and at you, he slammed a fist into the wall. One of your few boxes tipped over with the vibration that rattled the ship. Five or six notebooks had fallen out. Frustrated, he bent over to pick them up. The last one he grabbed had opened, so he naturally took a quick glance at the front page.

He was very surprised to find that there was another letter addressed to him. So, he read it. He was stunned to find that the entire notebook was filled with what were basically diary entries, but they had his name on the top. He quickly read through other notebooks and saw that they were all filled up too.

“Holy shit,” he whispered aloud.

The last notebook had only one letter in it.

It said:

Mando,

It’s been a long time since I wrote the very first letter that started this whole mess. Honestly, knowing that you aren’t dead because of me isn’t as comforting as I’d hoped it would be. But, I’m in too deep now. I miss you a lot. Everyday is hard without you. Anyway, I made a decision today. This is the last collection of letters. While writing to you has really been the only thing keeping me going as of late, there has to be more to my life than this. I don’t want to forget you, by any means. But thinking about you and “talking” to you everyday is painful. I second guess myself a lot. I don’t know if I’ll make it to the end of this notebook. I’ve had a couple close calls and I’ve been really out of it mentally. After this, I have to try and move on with my life. But I’m allowing myself- no, I deserve time to process and pretend everything is going to be alright and go back to normal for a little while.

Be safe,

Cyar’ika

P.S. (I finally figured out how to spell my nickname!! Maybe you can tell me what it means someday.)

———————————————————————

You ran out like that because you panicked. You didn’t mean to say all that right now. Or ever, actually. But you blurted out that you loved him after not seeing him for years, and you definitely did not want to see his initial reaction. So you ran like a coward.

After berating yourself for the better part of an hour, you went back. You owed him an apology. Walking up the ramp, you hoped that he was still on the ship. You were very surprised to find that he was close to where you left him, with one of your notebooks in his hand. You swallowed thickly, wondering just how much he had read. He angled his head towards you, almost questioningly.

“You’ve been writing these letters this whole time.” It wasn’t so much a question as it was a surprised statement. You nodded your head, suddenly exhausted. You walk over to him and plop down on the ground by his side.

“I was really stupid,” you sigh dejectedly. Mando was quiet for a moment, your words hanging in the air uncomfortably. You took his silence as an agreement with your self-assessment.

“I understand if you hate me,” you say quietly. You close your eyes. Maker, you must seem pathetic. You are very confused when you hear a huff of repressed laughter come from the Mandalorian.

Instead of sitting shoulder to shoulder with him, you swivel around so you face him. You raise an eyebrow.

“What’s so funny?”

The Mandalorian reaches across his chest and tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. You shudder.

“Cyar’ika, I could never hate you.” His voice somehow sounds lower, like he wants to tell you a secret.

“Oh?”

He runs his thumb down your jaw. Then he opens the notebook and places it in your lap. He points at the page.

“You want me to tell you what it means?” he asks. You nod your head eagerly.

“It means sweetheart in Mando’a.”

You feel heat rising to your cheeks, and suddenly you feel breathless. He’s been calling you sweetheart for so long.

“Why didn’t you say anything earlier?” you question.

He counters you with a “Why didn’t you?”

You begin to laugh out loud. “We’re both idiots, you know that right?”

“Right,” he scoffs. “At least we know now.”

He stands up after you both sit there in silence for a long time. “I think it’s time we moved on to the next planet, and put everything else behind us… if you still plan on staying, that is.”

You stretch out your hand, gesturing for him to help you up. His gloved hand takes yours, and you immediately intertwine your fingers with his.

The stress and uncertainty of recent years fade to the back of your mind. You’ve never been so sure of anything in your life.

“You won’t be able to get rid of me even if you want to,” you smiled cheekily. Then you add on, to let him know that you’re serious.

“I’m staying.”

And for the both of you, that was enough.

#angst #mental health #writing #the mandalorian #reader #kinda inspired by Hamilton

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lovelycevans · 4 years

Text

bucky barnes - 1930s

y/n/n = your nickname

fem! reader

swearing, blood, and guns

2175 words

=====

1936

age 16

waiting for your twin brother steve to come home all battered up with cuts and bruises late at night wasn't a surprise.

when he wasn't home for dinner that was when you'd sit by the fire and wait for him.

you were always the one to fix him up after getting beat up.

today you thought was no different, after dinner, you sat down in front of the fire, knitting a scarf for steve since he had a knack for getting himself sick when you heard the familiar sound of footsteps on the front balcony, you had simply gotten up and went to grab the medical kit.

walking into the salon and seeing your brother with his best friend half-conscious, may I add, was a little bit of a shocker to you.

"oh finally" steve heaved, james had a hand across his back and was, like I said only half-conscious, but he looked up at you and flashed a smile, blood pooling in his mouth.

"what happened?" you had said rushing over to the two boys, grabbing james by the arms and forcing him into the bathroom.

"steve bring a chair here will you?" you said pushing james onto the counter, he's much too tall for you to reach his face, even while sitting down.

a moment later steve appeared in the doorway with a dining room chair in his arms, his face almost turning purple, with the heavy chair.

"now steve will you tell me what happened?" you asked once again while examining james's face before pushing him into the chair.

"he got into a fight, three against one may I add, held his weight for a while but eventually started getting a bit sloppy" steve stated standing in the doorway, leaning on the doorframe.

you had started cleaning the blood of his face, lips pursed.

he wouldn't take his eyes off of your face while you were cleaning his face.

"this might sting," you said lightly putting a pad with some special cleaner made so cuts won't get infected. he hissed when it came in contact with the cuts on his face, flinching away.

you had just placed your hands on your hips.

"do you want help?" you asked with a sharp tone.

"fine, fine doll, just get it over with," james said coming back to his original spot, behind him, steve had raised his eyebrows, looking at his best friend and sister, james made eye contact with him.

he had just rolled his eyes.

"shut up steve" james called at steve. you had furrowed your eyebrows and had grabbed james's jaw.

"don't move" you had ordered, putting bandages on the cuts, once again james's eyes were locked on your face.

"hey y/n is there any leftovers?" steve asked.

"yeah, there should be enough for the both of you, today we had potatoes, peas and chicken by the way" you answered staring attentively at a cut on james's lip.

around 25 minutes later you were finished. you washed your hands and James just sat there staring at you.

"will you be staying the night james?" you asked.

"I told you doll, call me bucky," he said standing up, coming over to the sink. "and yes, if that's ok with you"

you had just rolled your eyes, drying your hands at his nickname.

"it's fine with me but you should ask steve, and where did 'bucky' come from james?" you questioned walking out of the bathroom, he trailed after you like a lost puppy slouching.

"James 'buch'anan barnes, y/n/n, buch goes to bucky," he said with a slight smirk, he knew you hated that nickname.

he had followed you to the kitchen, where steve was eating some dinner at the counter, turning in his chair as you entered the kitchen, james went to sit beside steve while you finished doing the dishes.

a couple of minutes later you have finished the dishes and the two boys were finished their dinner.

"now if you'll excuse me, im going to bed, you should too, we have school tomorrow." you stated drying your hands with a washcloth.

james's eyes followed you out of the room after you left, steve had started chuckling.

james's eyes looked steve up and down, "what's up with you?"

"doll? really?" steve said still laughing, "you are so smitten with my sister" he said with a smile etched across his face.

"w-what! never!" james defended

"mate, chill, i know for a fact she likes you," steve said standing up collecting their plates and putting them beside the washer.

"she does?!" james asked eagerly.

"well... im pretty sure she does" steve added.

"come on mate, dont get me winded up like that" james grumbled.

the next day at school

i don't know how school was back then, so i am going with highschool

today you felt like dressing up so you put on your favourite dress, it was a nice dusty rose with flowers on it, you had adored it.

walking in the halls was a fun experience, people stared, as per usual, james was kinda a social icon while you and steve were not.

james had waved several times to other people, you had turned to go to your locker, where your friend, susan banks was waiting for you.

you hadn't even noticed james and steve following you.

susan's eyes widened at james walking with you, she knew he was friends with your brother but didn't know that the two fo you were friends.

james also still had cuts on his face.

"heyyyy doll?" james groaned making his way over to your locker, "what's your first class?"

"biology" you simply stated.

steve piped up before james could answer "I have math"

susan responded "oh same! we should walk together!" at the offering steve blushed, while walking towards the math room.

"you're stuck with me doll, I have biology too" james said slinging his arm over your shoulder

people stared more than ever, you tried to keep your head down but james held his head high, smiling like a maniac.

in-class james sat right beside you at the double desk you have for biology

"may I say y/n/n you look absolutely ravishing today" james stated resting his head on his hand staring at you, your cheek flushed a light pink at his remark, still staring at the board you answered.

"gee thanks james, wish I could say the same for you" you said with a hint of sarcasm.

he puta hand to his heart.

"ouch, y/n, and please, call me bucky" he offered as class was starting.

throughout the class, james would keep his eyes off of you, people noticed that the one and only, bucky barnes was staring at y/n rogers, his best friends sister.

when the bell rang you slipped past james and made a beeline for English class, which you shared with steve.

you had almost crashed right into steve while he was turning a corner looking for you so you two could walk to class together.

"oh my goodness steve! i am so sorry!" you said steadying his shoulders.

"I'm good, I'm good!" he piped up,

you both started walking towards English class.

"soooo how was biology with bucky?" steve asked with a suggestive tone.

"it was fine, bit of a starer but other than that, it was fine"

steve raised his eyebrows

"he was staring at you?"

"yep"

steve suppressed a smile.

"not surprised. he has the biggest crush on you" steve said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"what!" you said stopping from walking, cheek a furious red, "he does not!"

once again steve just raised his eyebrows and kept on walking.

lunch

lunch was a fun time, you sat with susan and steve, who passed flirty remarks back and forth, so your eyes just wandered over the lunchroom and they landed on Annabelle Rusnak, a pretty, rich blonde girl flirting with james.

it looked as though he was flirting back, your heart sank, you should've never gotten your hopes up.

you stared at the scene, you were pretty good at reading lips so you could see james calling her doll.

to be honest you kinda liked the nickname, it was sweet, but now it had lost its meaning.

you had adverted your eyes when he looked your way, staring right in front of you, pretending to zone out.

"hellloooo?? earth to y/n?" susan said waving her hand over your face.

"yes?" you answered slowly reconnecting back into the world.

"are you ok? you were zoning out?" susan asked with a concerned look on her face.

"oh yeah I'm fine" she didn't look convinced, but kept on eating.

when the bell rang for everyone to get ready to go back to class, once again you had stood straight up and made a beeline for your locker.

"hey doll" a firmilar voice rang in your ear.

"will you stop calling me that?" you asked with a sharp tone, not missing a beat.

he looked taken aback.

"o-oh okay" he stuttered.

he stood beside your locker before saying, "I should go"

after school

you were sitting on your bed doing homework when you heard two familiar voices in the room beside yours, you knew eavesdropping was impolite and rude, but you didn't care, you put your ear to the wall and listened.

"I think I really like her" you thought was james

"who?" steve asked, "you have girls left and right waiting for you, which one?" he asked with a chuckle

"Annabelle of course!"

your heart fell again, tears started to well up in your eyes. you needed some air.

you left your room, grabbing your coat and decided to go for a walk to the library.

"mom! dad! I'm going to the library!" you yelled closing the front door.

at the library you someone you didn't expect to see, Zachary Fluterson.

you had always thought he was cute, he was pretty popular, but also very sweet, he loved to read which you admired.

upon your entry he looked up, his cheeks flushed a red colour then he immediately looked back at his book.

you walked towards the human anatomy section, you had always liked to read about the human body, and its mysteries, you wanted to be a doctor.

you had settled down on a couch near where Zachary sat at a table, a couple of minutes later he came over to you.

"um h-hi," he said with his hand behind his back standing in front of you.

"hi" you replied back

"I'm Zach"

"I know, we go to school together, you're in my math class"

"oh yeah, uh, I was wondering if, um, maybe you wanted to maybe, go to a film together?" he said head down, fidgeting with his fingers.

you slightly raised your eyebrows, when he saw that you did that he started talking again.

"oh my gosh, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to, I just always thought you were pretty! I'm so sorry" he said walking away.

"no wait!" you said standing up and grabbing his arm. "i would love to go to a film with you"

"really?"

"yeah! you're pretty too" you added with a smile.

he smiled back.

"um, its pretty late and dark, mind if i walk you home?" he asked

"i would like that"

on the walk home you talked about anything and everything, it was nice, when you and him made it to the doorstep, you both stopped.

"thanks for walking me home"

"no problem"

"can we talk about the details for the movie tomorrow?"

"sure"

you smiled and walked inside, closing the door, then leaning on it, sighing.

"where were you?" steve questioned sitting on the couch with james

"at the library"

"who was that?" james asked

"nobody"

"pretty sure that was somebody" steve chimed

"fine, it was Zachary Fluterson"

steve started laughing, you scowled and started walking towards your bedroom, taking off your coat, steve got up and jogged over to you, james following him.

"what were you doing with Zachary?" james asked quietly

"well he asked me to a film, then walked me home" you said walking into your room then closing the door

steve looked to james who had his eyebrows furrowed, they then walked back into the salon.

"james, are you staying for dinner?" Mrs.Rogers asked James.

"oh no mrs.rogers I should get going now"

"bye bucky" steve said walking him out.

on james's walk home he realized something.

he was in love with you.

2024

Age 40

bucky woke up in a cold sweat recounting the events that occurred 80 years ago, little did he know y/n rogers was alive.

when steve woke up he did a search to see if his twin sister was alive, he found out that a couple of years after he went into the ice she went missing and her body was found a couple of months later.

fuck hydra

nobody knew that she was in training to be a new winter solider.

wattpad: AnnabethJacksonplz

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #y/n #marvel #1940s #hydra #Steve rogers x reader #wattpad

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searchingwardrobes · 4 years

Text

Happy birthday, @onceuponaprincessworld ! You are a lovely presence in this fandom, making beautiful picsets often for no other reason than your love for a particular fic. You have supported me and encouraged me personally as a writer, as you often do for so many. I hope your day is wonderful!

As I was contemplating your fic, I was inspired by this song by Grace Potter that plays at the end of Tangled. Tallahassee, of course, is one episode with massive Tangled vibes. A line in this song reminded me of Killian’s line in that episode that everything they need is right in front of them. So here is an alternate ending to that episode. I tried to make sure the character of these two is still intact, especially at this point in their relationship, but I did take dramatic liberty with the plot and dialogue of the episode. I hope you enjoy it!

Summary: There is a treasure in this room that you need but don’t want. Find it, and the way out will be revealed to you.

Rating: G

Words: 2,700

Also on Ao3 and part of my Fandom Birthday Playlist

Tagging the usuals :@snowbellewells @jennjenn615 @kday426 @let-it-raines @teamhook@kmomof4 @bethacaciakay @profdanglaisstuff @resident-of-storybrooke @thislassishooked @tiganasummertree@whimsicallyenchantedrose @snidgetsafan @delirious-latenight-laughs @winterbaby89 @distant-rose@shireness-says @xhookswenchx @optomisticgirl @spartanguard @branlovestowrite @welllpthisishappening @hollyethecurious @stahlop

It's so easy to make believe,

It seems you're livin' in a dream

Don't you see that what you need

Is standing in front of you?

Everything we need is right in front of us. Emma grinds her teeth at the thought of the pirate’s words. She’s surprisingly gotten over the shock that he’s Captain freakin Hook and has gone straight to complete irritation. Tying that bandage with his damn teeth. Seriously, this guy is so full of it she’s surprised his shoulders can support the weight of his head. She huffs when she sees him lift a gold coin and smell it with a rapturous expression.

“How long do you think giant knock-out powder lasts?” she snaps.

“I’ve no clue,” he replies casually.

“That’s my rush,” she clarifies through gritted teeth.

“Ah, right you are,” he agrees brightly, tossing the coin aside. She’s honestly surprised that he agreed with her so easily.

What happens next is a chaotic blur. Emma sees the tripwire a moment too late, and then the floor is falling beneath their feet. The drop isn’t a long one, but piles of coins, mounds of jewels, and gold knick knacks of all shapes and sizes rain down with them. Her shoulder colliding with the floor doesn’t hurt quite so much as the metal pelting her from above. A hand grasps her other shoulder, and cool metal brushes her bare skin where her shirt has ridden up. Her eyes fly open as the muscular chest pressed against hers registers.

“You okay, love?” Hook asks, his brow creased with surprising concern.

Emma blinks and scrambles backwards, rubbing at her sore shoulder. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Hook groans as he struggles to his feet, massaging his own arm and rolling his shoulders. He looks up at the hole above them with a grimace. “I evidently triggered a booby trap.”

“Ya think?” Emma snaps.

Hook offers his hand to help her up, but she slaps it away. He frowns, his blue eyes turning thunderous. “So this is my fault.”

“Well for a pirate you’re not very good at sneaking into a treasure room.”

“Maybe I would have been more observant if someone wasn’t nagging me to hurry up.”

“You’re not taking any of this seriously!” she’s practically shouting now, her fists clenched tightly.

“Oh believe me, lass,” he retorts, stalking towards her in a predatory way, “I know how serious the situation is. Breaking trust with Cora isn’t something a man takes lightly.”

Emma refuses to back down, even when he comes chest to chest with her. She lifts her chin to meet his gaze. “Or maybe you’re playing us.”

He shakes his head, and Emma almost swears that she sees hurt in his eyes. “You still don’t trust me.”

Before Emma can reply, the ground beneath them begins to shake. More treasure sprinkles down into the hole they are in. Emma reaches out instinctively to steady herself, grasping Hook by his biceps. Very toned biceps, actually -

Get a grip, Emma! Now’s not the time!

Hook’s hands come up to steady her as well, and he leans forward and says in a low voice, “It’s the giant.”

Emma glances up at Hook, and she isn’t sure if her pounding heart is from fear or the amazing bright blue eyes staring back at her. She swallows, then whispers, “Should we try and hide?”

The pounding stops, and a shadow falls over them. Hook presses his eyes closed and sighs. “Too late.”

“Humans after treasure again? After all these years?” a voice above them roars.

Emma turns and tilts her head. She is surprised by two things. One, the giant she had thrown the sleeping powder at earlier isn’t the fearsome monster she had assumed he was. Now that she can really look at his face, he seems more like an ordinary man who just happens to be extremely large. If she isn’t mistaken, that even seems like loneliness and sorrow in his eyes. Two feelings she is much too familiar with.

The second thing that surprises her is the protective posture Hook is assuming, wrapping his right arm around her and pulling her a hair closer while lifting his hook in front of her. Completely unnecessary, of course, but . . . huh. He really is an old-school gentleman.

Emma pushes her way out of Hook’s loose embrace, despite the warnings he hisses at her under his breath. She locks her gaze with the giant above them, hoping she hasn’t read him wrong.

“Look, we’re not here to hurt you -”

“Oh, so knocking me out earlier was what? An accident?”

Emma shakes her head. “Sorry about that -”

“What are you doing?” Hook mutters behind her, but she waves at him to be quiet.

“We heard that you weren’t exactly friendly, so we thought that sleeping powder was our only option. We heard wrong, didn’t we?”

The giant narrows his eyes. “No, you heard correctly, and don’t try to charm your way out of this. I fell for that once. I won’t do it again.”

Emma searches his face carefully. “Humans betrayed you, didn’t they? That’s what really happened here, isn’t it?”

“Victors are the ones who get to tell the stories.”

“Exactly!” Emma agrees. “The war, it wasn’t the giant’s who were the bad guys, it was the humans. They invaded. And now . . . “ she bites her bottom lip as she looks into the giant’s eyes again, “you’re all alone.”

The giant’s face goes soft for a moment, but then his jaw clenches. “I’m still not gonna trust another human.”

“Listen, the way I see it, we could have killed you before when we used the powder, but we didn’t. Aren’t you wondering why?”

“I’m listening . . . “ the giant mutters hesitantly.

“It’s because we’re only here for one thing. We’re just looking for a magic compass. That’s it. We put you to sleep, we get the compass, we’re out of here. That was it. I swear.”

“What do you need it for?”

Emma takes a deep breath and answers with complete sincerity. “To get home to my son. He’s in another realm, and I only just got him back. This compass is my only chance. Please, help us.”

The giant looks at her for a long, silent moment, then he turns away from the hole. Emma glances at Hook, who regards her with an arched brow. Only a moment later, the giant is back.

“Catch,” he tells her, tossing something into the hole. Emma reaches up and grins when a golden compass falls into her open palms.

“You’re amazing,” Killian whispers over her shoulder, “bloody brilliant, lass.”

She turns towards Hook, unable to keep the broad grin off her face. She’s surprised to see his own lips turn up into a genuine smile, his gaze upon her and not the ornate compass in her hand. Flustered, she quickly turns away from him to look back up at the giant.

“Thank you! So, so much! Now could you, um, get us out of this hole?”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible.”

Emma frowns. Had she read him wrong this whole time? She’d been so sure . . .

“Why ever the bloody hell not?” Hook cries out next to her.

“Hook,” she whispers in a warning tone.

“I would if I could, believe me,” the giant explains, “but this trap was enchanted years ago, before I was even born, by an enchantress. The only way out is to solve the riddle.”

Hook groans beside her. “What riddle?”

“There is a treasure in this room that you need but don’t want. Figure out what it is, and the way out will reveal itself to you.”

“Are you serious?” Emma rubs at her temple.

“Afraid so,” the giant sighs, “but I’ll bring you some dinner in the meantime.”

Emma frowns up at him. “Thanks. I know it isn’t your fault.”

The giant gives her a sad smile in return. “My name is Anton, by the way.”

“Emma Swan,” she tells him.

“Captain Killian Jones.”

Emma turns her head towards her companion in surprise. He’s even bowing to the giant, the drama queen. She had honestly forgotten that he had given them another name - Killian Jones. His real name. Not Hook.

It suits him, actually.

*****************************************************

Emma tosses aside a string of pearls as she curses under her breath. On the other side of the room, Hook matches her frustration with colorful language of his own. Her jaw clenches so hard her ears almost pop and anger surges through her. She mindlessly grabs a velvet pouch of jewels and hurls it against the rocky walls of their prison.

“We’ll find a way out of here, Swan, I’m sure of it,” Killian tries to encourage her, but he doesn’t sound all that convincing.

“I told Mulan to chop the beanstalk down if we weren’t back by sundown.”

Hook shakes his head, his eyes blinking. “You what?”

Emma rubs her face wearily. “Don’t act so surprised, you’re a pirate. I had to protect Mary Margaret. One of us has to get home.”

Killian’s eyes look thunderous. It’s surprising how often in the last half hour she’s thought of him by his given name.

“I thought we already had this conversation.”

Emma tilts her head. “It really bothers you that I don’t trust you?” What the hell did he expect?!

“What the bloody hell did I expect?” he asks rhetorically, his entire body deflating.

Emma’s jaw drops. Either he seriously has mind reading powers, or -

“Anyone hungry down there?”

They both look up at Anton, who’s grinning down at them. Yeah, definitely not a flesh eating monster. She and Killian affirm that they could indeed use some sustenance, and Anton sends a bucket down on a rope. When Emma grasps it, a thought comes to her. She finds Hooks eyes on her, and he shrugs as if to say, “it’s worth a shot.”

Emma sets the bucket on the ground, and then Killian springs with surprising agility onto the rope Anton is still holding. Yet before he has climbed even a foot up the rope, a pulse of magic emanates from it and he’s sent flying backwards. Anton can’t help a small chuckle as Hook groans and struggles to his feet.

“I should have warned you not to try that,” the giant laughs.

“I’m glad you find it so entertaining, mate,” Hook growls.

Emma shakes her head as she reaches down to help Killian up. “Thanks for the food, Anton,” she calls over her shoulder.

“Wish I could do more,” he tells them as he pulls up the rope, “but enjoy the meal.”

“You don’t hesitate to take risks, do you?” Emma asks Hook as she kneels down next to the bucket of food.

“Well,” he says amiably, “as you said, I am a pirate.”

Emma nods as she takes out thick ham sandwiches, grapes, wedges of cheese, and two jugs of ale. “Yeah, I guess a cautious man wouldn’t make it on . . . what do you call it? The high seas?”

Killian raised a brow at her as he tossed a grape into his mouth. “You don’t know much about piracy, do you?”

Emma settled onto the cold stone floor with a sandwich clutched in her hand. “Nope. Just what I’ve seen in movies.”

He tilts his head at her in a way that reminds her of a curious puppy. “Movies? What are those?” He so sincere, so completely clueless when he asks, that it’s almost endearing.

“It’s like . . . a play, but the people aren’t actually there. They take . . . pictures that move and project it on a huge screen.”

Killian’s eyes widen. “Incredible, and they say your land has no magic!”

Emma can’t help but smile at his awe over something that to her is so commonplace. They fall into an easy silence as they eat and drink. Emma polishes off her sandwich, and after a swig of ale, her gaze drifts once again to the tattoo just peeking out of his shirt cuff.

“Tell me about the tattoo.”

He startles, and she isn’t sure if it’s from the question itself or the silence she has broken. His jaw clenches as he looks down at his wrist, and she knows he won’t answer. Again.

“You loved her, didn’t you?” she says softly.

Killian simply nods.

“And she’s the reason you need to get revenge on Rumplestiltskin?”

He sighs. “Aye, but I don’t really wish to relive that pain at the present.”

“I get that.” Emma munches a few grapes. “Besides, it’s not like you’re the only one with an ax to grind with that guy. I can fill in the blanks, believe me.”

Killian chuckles sardonically at that, and they both fall silent again.

“You know I can’t let you kill him though, right?” Emma adds. “I mean, as the sheriff I have to uphold law and order and all that.”

He studies her so intently, that she as to look away. “You weren’t always on the right side of the law. Were you, Swan?”

Emma’s head snaps up at that. “How do you do that?”

He shrugs. “I may be a pirate, but I’m not stupid. Orphans don’t get the easiest lot in life. I would wager that you did what you had to in order to survive.”

Emma narrows her eyes at him. “I get the feeling this isn’t just something you picked up from a bunch of lost boys.”

Killian rubs at the back of his neck and a light blush stains his cheeks. “Well, perhaps I’ve seen it in the mirror as well.” He shrugs and laughs as if it’s of no consequence, a casual air she knows from personal experience is a defense mechanism.

“Oh,” is all she can manage to say.

They finish off the rest of the food and the ale. They really should get back to figuring out that damn riddle, but she feels drowsy from the meal. She pulls her knees up to her chest and studies Hook’s profile. She bites down on her lip before breaking the silence once again.

“I admit, I have been in love.”

He turns to her, eyes widening slightly in surprise. A small smile lifts his lips, but it isn’t teasing or self-satisfying. It’s just understanding. “I assumed as much.”

Emma sighs and rests her chin on her knees. “It’s hard for me to love. It was even hard at first with Henry. I see my parents- they want me to love them, but it’s hard. I need to try I guess.”

She glances at Killian, and his eyes are piercing in their intensity, but this time she doesn’t look away. He’s an orphan too, and it makes her feel as if perhaps he understands. He’s a pirate, he’s done things that she’s sure are horrific. She knows she can’t fully trust him, at least not yet, but that doesn’t mean he was wrong before. They do make quite the team, and he really does seem to have an uncanny ability to read her.

“They need to be patient,” he finally says, voice low and warm. “Maybe what you need is not someone begging you to love them, but someone who will wait patiently until you’re ready.”

Emma feels a gasp lodge itself in her throat as his words sink deep and take root. The air feels charged, but not with the sexual attraction she’s felt earlier. Before she can analyze it, the room rumbles beneath their feet, the walls shake, and a crack runs down the length of one wall with a loud clap like thunder. Dust and debris rain around them, but when it clears, light pours through a cavernous hole in the far wall. They both scramble to their feet, laughing with joy.

“What?” Emma asks. “How?”

“I don’t know,” Killian laughs, “but don’t question it, love.”

With the compass clutched in her hand, Emma races out into the sunlight on Killian’s heels. What happened in the cave has her mind whirling with so many questions, the main one surrounding the riddle they had unknowingly solved. What treasure did she need even though she didn’t want it? Or was it Hook’s treasure?

She pushes all of those thoughts aside as they scramble to descend the beanstalk. Sundown isn’t far away . . .

She's a girl with the best intentions

He's a man of his own invention

She looked out of the window

He walked out the door

But she followed him

And he said, "What'cha lookin' for?"

#cs ff #cs canon divergence #tallahassee #fandom birthday playlist #for onceuponaprincessworld #on her birthday

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eliz1369 · 6 years

Text

HijiChi Week Day 3 - A Problem of Poetic Proportions

The lazy heat of the afternoon filled the garden as Souji found the perfect spot to lay down under one of the trees. Just enough sunlight peaked its way through the leaves to be pleasantly warm, instead of boiling hot. It would have been the perfect place to take a nap, but he had other plans.

Laying back, he pulled a small book out of his sleeve and turned it over in his hands as he grinned.

Hijikata had done a much better job hiding his haiku collection this time and he’d had to waste three whole distractions before he’d finally found it hidden in a stack of expense reports.

Now with Hijikata off chastising the Baka trio for stealing his brushes to paint Sano’s stomach the previous night—and subsequently breaking them in their drunken stupor—Souji finally had some Hijikata-free time in which he could pursue the Oni no Fukucho’s latest additions.

Flipping to where he had left off last time he’d had the book, Souji was surprised to find only one new haiku.

A beautiful flower

To be admired, but never held

Accusations fly

He frowned at the words. By no means was he any kind of expert, but this seemed bad even for Hijikata. It started off fine, but the accusations part seem both oddly specific and completely out of the blue.

He sat up as he read it over again. Flowers weren’t an unusual theme for Hijikata, his absurd plum blossom one was just the tip of the iceberg, but something about this felt off to Souji.

What had happened in the past few weeks that would cause Hijikata to write this?

Normally he never bothered to figure out why Hijikata wrote his haiku, because normally they were either obvious enough to tell exactly what he was getting at, or so vague as to be indecipherable… and this was frustratingly neither.

“Okita-san?”

He looked up to find Chizuru standing on the engawa. She gestured to the small tray in her hands as she asked, “Would you like some peach slices? I was going to take them to Hijikata-san, but um…”

She trailed off and Souji knew she was trying to find a delicate way to say “scaring the living daylights out of three grown men” (or at the very least Heisuke).

He let a razor edge creep into his smile as he snicker and said, “You mean threatening life and limb of a certain trio? Don’t worry, they’ll probably only lose a finger or two, maybe a toe.”

“Okita-san! That isn’t funny.”

She frowned at him with the odd censure she sometimes got, like she wasn’t afraid of him at all. Despite that, she smiled as she sat down and placed the tray next to her, clearly expecting him to join her.

Not that he would ever say no to a sweet treat. Chizuru had a knack for only picking the sweetest fruit. Unlike Shinpachi, who somehow managed to always come back with fruit so green it was completely inedible.

Tucking Hijikata’s book back into his sleeve, he got up.

Besides, maybe she would know what Hijikata was getting at with his little poem. The plum blossom incident was largely due to her after all. [1]

“Ne, Chizuru-chan,” he said as he sat next to the tray and picked up a slice of the sticky fruit. “I’ve got something I don’t understand. Think you could figure it out for me?”

She blinked in surprise at the question, but nodded. “Um, I can certainly try. What is it?”

He recited the haiku and waited, watching for the slightest flicker in her expression as she thought it over.

“Well… Flowers do bruise when you touch them, and they last longest when you leave them on the stem…” She frowned as she chewed on her lip. “That brings up thoughts of the shortness of life… Or maybe something is out of reach?”

Souji stole another piece of fruit as Chizuru nodded to herself, really getting into her analysis. It was amusing how the normally quiet girl could really ramble when it came to poetry.

“The flower might represent something the author finds beautiful but can’t bring themselves to touch. And maybe the accusations are because touching or being near that thing is forbidden or would harm it, so the haiku could capture the conflicting desire of both loving and fearing for something or someone-”

“Or maybe it means that theft of private property is wrong.”

Chizuru jumped and let out a squeak at the all too familiar voice behind them.

Souji lazily took another bite of peach as he looked up at a thunderous Hijikata and said innocently, “I don’t know what you’re talking about Hijikata-san.”

“Yes you damn well do! Give my back my book!”

Chizuru glanced nervously between them, but Souji wasn’t about to admit to anything. Hijikata didn’t know the book was in his sleeve. All Hijikata would know was that he had been reciting his most recent work.

Deciding to try and learn a bit more, Souji said, “What did you mean by accusations, Hijikata-san? Is there a flower out of your reach?”

Hijikata’s face remained impassive except for a slight twitch at his temple and the very briefest flicker of his eyes toward Chizuru.

Oh, so it had something to do with her, did it? Something in the past few weeks had caused Hijikata to write a haiku about Chizuru…

All at once everything clicked into place and Souji let a devilish smile creep across his face. Any number of snarky comments were on the tip of his tongue, but he kept silent. This was too good to risk spoiling.

“Yukimura,” Hijikata’s voice was slightly strained as he broke Souji’s gaze gestured sharply down the hall he had come from. “I believe Gen could use some help with lunch. Heisuke is unable to assist him at the moment.”

Chizuru nodded and scurried away, leaving the tray of fruit behind and clearly eager to escape the tense atmosphere.

Once she was out of earshot, Souji said tauntingly, “Hmm, Hijikata-san wasn’t touching a flower he shouldn’t, was he?”

“Not another word, Souji, or I swear I will cut your fucking tongue out.”

The telltale twitch was back, so Souji didn’t say anything about the faint blush that accompanied it. Instead he just smirked as Hijikata turned away and stormed back down the hallway.

Only once the Demon was gone, did he allow himself a quiet laugh. It seems the feared Oni no Fukucho was developing a soft spot for a certain little geisha. And if the last line of the poem was anything to go by, they must have made quite a scene leaving Shimabara.

He picked up the last piece of peach and popped it into his mouth before getting up and walking over to the spot he had vacated upon Chizuru’s arrival. There was just enough time to sneak in a quick nap in the sun before lunch.

As he settled back onto the soft grass, Souji promised himself that one of these days, he was going to wheedle out of everyone exactly what had happened the night Chizuru-chan went undercover.

[1] Ugh... Like most things I go looking for, of course I can’t find it now. However, I distinctly remember reading a short story (possibly drama cd?) where Souji tricks Chizuru into saying what she thinks of Hijikata’s plum blossom poem and Chizuru hilariously astounds them all (especially Hijikata) by actually making some kind of metaphorical sense out of it.

#hijichiweek 2018 #day 3 #haiku #hijikata toshizo #yukimura chizuru #okita souji #did you really think I could go without writing about him?#neither did I lol #I kind of have a headcanon #that souji actually knows almost nothing about that night #because no one will tell him anything #especially hijikata lol

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saorbrid-blog · 7 years

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Every Wednesday I share a review of a book. The book is chosen for me weekly and I cannot refuse the book, I have to read it and I have to review it. And I love doing it. A couple of weeks ago I was handed Marie Kondo’s ‘The Life Changing Magic of Tidying’. Considering it is, in its own way, a self-help book, it was an interesting one to review. Where normally I’d discuss themes, characters, writing styles and my personal feelings towards a book, this time I was a little stuck as there was nothing I was given to observe, analyse or discuss besides Marie Kondo’s actual method of tidying, so why not? I reviewed the book and the review can be found here, this post is my experience with the KonMari Method.

Prior to reading her book, I checked out goodreads to see what others had been saying about the book and I found some of the reviews hilarious – I too was slightly disturbed at the thoughts of my socks having self-esteem issues because I ball them up! As I began reading her book I felt a sense of anger towards Marie Kondo – her writing style was so persuasive. She was convinced her method was a gift from above and her confidence and assurance really bothered me initially, there’s something about self-assured people which just really gets to me. (I’m not jealous..)

Anyhoo, I began to find myself nodding in agreement to the parts where she discussed the different types of hoarders and how, even though you could spend an entire day cleaning and rearranging, the room/house will still end up messy within a week – for as long as I can remember I would spend hours or days working hard on perfecting my bedroom. Growing up we moved quite a bit, so I’ve tried perfecting at least 6 bedrooms of different shapes and sizes, but within a week my floor would be buried under a pile of clothing, shoes and books. Whether it was a box room (like the one I’m in now) or the huge one with the 7 wardrobes (I miss that room), I always found a way to make my bedroom look like the aftermath of a tornado.

Under my bed, before the gutting began.

Before beginning the transformation, Kondo recommends you imagine your ideal lifestyle (there’s a higher chance you’ll rebound if you don’t, apparently), once you’ve visualised that ask yourself why you want to live that kind of lifestyle and when you figure that one out ask yourself why a couple of more times.. “Before you start tidying, look at the lifestyle you aspire to and ask yourself: ‘Why do I want to tidy?’” So that’s exactly what I did. What kind of lifestyle did I want? A positive, relaxing and feminine one. Why? I want to meditate in a peaceful surrounding, somewhere I can light candles and read a book or listen to music and draw, somewhere I can blog and study and research, somewhere I can access my clothes/make up/jewellery without searching through bags and baskets and boxes. Why? To have my own space. Something just for me, a haven. Why? I’m independent and enjoy my own company, my mind tends to race

Clothes EVERYWHERE (never mind what was stowed away in the hot-press and attic)

quite a lot and as many of you who read this post will know, I can’t always control the ups and downs of my life, and really I need somewhere where I know I can wind down undisturbed, but also somewhere that can bring me joy – Then I looked around at the 3 metre x 3 metre room cluttered with everything from shoes older than my siblings to books older than my parents, as well as bags upon bags of clothes – with a decent amount still unworn and with their tags.

Basically, the KonMari method summed up is this: If it doesn’t make you happy, throw it out. Treat everything as an individual. Feel your clothing, feel your books, and unless it “sparks joy” and you firmly believe it will be used again in the future, discard it. Don’t just dump it though, you must thank it for serving its purpose in your life. I thought I’d feel ridiculous as I did this, but I knew much of what I got rid of would be going to charity so I thanked my old possessions for serving their purpose in my life and wished them luck in fulfilling another purpose in someone else’s life. I’ve read some fairly harsh opinions regarding the method but when you think about it, it makes a lot of sense. Keep what makes you happy! By donating the rest you’re sure they will bring joy to someone else.

The KonMari Method begins with the visualisation, then categorising your belongings (sort by category, not location!). Belongings should be categorised and then sub-categorised if needed. The categories are as follows: Clothes, Books, Papers, Miscellaneous items and Sentimental items. Begin to clean by category, clothes first. My bedroom was littered with everything everywhere, I had clothes in bags, boxes, drawers, under my bed, stuffed under things and it was much the same for every other category, nothing really had its own designated area.

Things were left in the most random places.

I spent 4 hours powering through my all my belongings, putting any miscellaneous items I found in one bag to sort out later, same with any sentimental items, electricals, make up, etc. I was really surprised at how much I’d gotten despite the lack of music playing, which I would normally play loud enough for the neighbours to hear as I tidied my room but KonMari says no. Focus. By half 10 I was lightly banging my head against the wall as I sat under a pile of clothes, books and bags of rubbish, at 11:05 I managed to clear a path from my door to my bed – I wasn’t getting this done in one go.

I was working the day after I began to tidy, so I didn’t get the chance to continue it until half 6 that evening. Luckily, I got to start off with the papers which pretty much all went into the bag for rubbish. By this time, I had accumulated 2 large bags of bin-worthy rubbish and 3 bags of clothing donations. Next came the misc. items – Komono, as they are referred to – miscellaneous items are anything from CDs, DVDs, passports, stationary, to buttons, cables and make up. The exact range is as follows: This was the category I enjoyed the most, I had soooo many little knick knacks all over my room, some I kept out of guilt, some because I am a hoarder. A horrible, dirty hoarder. They all pretty much went bye-bye anyways. Sentimental items came next – this wasn’t so enjoyable. I won’t lie, a lot of the belongings I had in this category I kept. I can be quite a big softy at times and ended up spending over an hour just going through old photos, letters, notes and gifts and reminiscing. Swear I didn’t cry over how tiny my little brothers and little sister used to be! Though I kept most of what was in the ‘sentimental’ category, I organised them well in a photo album which I can now proudly display!

Finally, I got the chance to store my belongings (discard first, store later). I couldn’t get over how easily I found places for what I had left, now everything I own has its own home in my bedroom and, with exception from a few books, they’re all visible.

‘Appearance’ Area

My clothes, make up and jewellery are all stored within reach of each other – my ‘appearance’ area. My shoes are all together, my blog folders, iPad, laptop and printer are altogether at my desk – my ‘blog’ area.

blogging/shoe area

My books are stored under my bed in two drawers, one for study books (psychology, Italian and self-help books) and one for my Spirit & Destiny magazines, stationary and some novels. Sentimental items are stored on my top shelf, a few more books I’d use more often on the second and candles and cutesy decorative things on the bottom shelf. That’s it – that’s my bedroom.

Before & After

Before, I had clothes balled up on top of each other and about 5 items per hanger, I tried to designate drawers for sub-categories but I never stuck to them until now. Now I have one item of clothing per hanger, separate drawers for underwear, socks, pyjamas, tops and bottoms – and they all fit! Did you know you’re folding your clothes wrong? Yeah, Marie Kondo explains a really good theory as to why we stack them on top of each other when really, we should be stacking them beside each other vertically. It really is way easier to access them. Also, rid yourself of trackies. Loungewear is now considered taboo. Oh right.

Socks also have a specific way to be folded. Do you ball yours up? I did, I always have. Even when I had odd socks, I’d ball them all up together until I found their missing partner. Of course that’s the wrong way to do it though, to store your socks you should put them lying flat on top of each other and roll them from the top towards the toe, storing them upright to leave you with a little swirl (like a cinnamon bun!). Balling up your socks causes the elastic in them to stretch which is why sometimes they roll down. Kondo noted in her book how she longs to tell students she sees with their limpy socks how they should be storing them, so for everyone’s sake just roll them up instead of potato-balling them. By the way, was I the only person who stored my socks and undies together? ‘Cause now I have a separate drawer for my socks and tights and I feel really pretentious but I love it. Tell me I wasn’t the only one who stored them together.. and if there are people out there storing them together – stop. Trust me. Being able to say ‘my sock drawer’ makes you really cool.

How To: Store your socks!

step 2

step 3

cinnamon swirl!

It has been over a month now since I cleared out my room and I’m absolutely delighted to say it’s still just as clean as it was the day I completed it, vacuumed and all. The first thing my Mam noted about it was how bare it was – which is exactly how I wanted it, I just wasn’t fully aware of it. The brightness in my room now is unbelievable, it’s unfortunate positioning left it with a lack of natural lightning but with the light-coloured furniture and bare walls I can make the most of the daylight. Since I was a teenager I had a need to fill up my bedroom walls with posters, quotes, concert tickets, pictures of friends and family and so on, I carried this need with my in this bedroom, behind my bed are some of my favourite photographs hanging up pinterest style, and facing across from where I sleep in my bed was a wall filled with tickets, signs, and political declarations. I still have my photographs up but in time I could replace them with the kinds of pictures which belong on a vision board (therefore this will be my vision wall, always gotta get one up on everyone else..). My opposing wall is completely empty however, bar two decorative quote thingies my Step-Dad picked up for me when I wasn’t feeling the best. I think this wall was the biggest change in my room, it has a calm influence on my bedroom now.

In total, I filled 5 45-litre bags for donating to a local charity and 3 45-litre bags of rubbish. I won’t deny the touch of separation anxiety I felt in the days following the clear out, wondering if I’d been too strict with what I discarded or not but if I genuinely miss an item that much I’ll just go source another one. Thankfully there’s nothing I’m missing, and a couple of days ago I filled a plastic bag with some more donations of bits and bobs that I was unsure of whether I was ready to let go of yet or not.

I wasn’t lying about the bags 🙂

A part of me still feels like it isn’t going to last, it is genuinely the perfect room for me and I’m fully in love with it, every time I use something I put it back where it belongs and I may or may not have taken to thanking my shoes after a day of wearing them..

Testimonies included in the book state how the tidying has improved people’s lives, I have felt a lot calmer recently and have been more productive with things that I pushed to the bottom of my to-do list – such as fixing up my poor car which has been sitting out the back untouched for over a year! Hopefully not much longer until she’ll be road-worthy again! (Would this be something you’d be interested in following along with? Let me know!) I made jokes in my review about OCD, but I genuinely recommend this method to everyone. Most of her steps are listed on pinterest, if you just search “KonMari” you’ll find all you need. From my experience, if I had to describe the KonMari Method in one word, it would be ‘relief’. I have a brand new bedroom, the one I have always wanted with a unique space for blogging, a beautiful candle display across from my bed, a proper home for my shoes and a perfect blend of happy yet calming colours. Pity I’m planning on moving into my own place in the near-ish future, but at least then I can apply the method to my own home, having it on point from day one!

So I decided to apply the 'Kon Mari' method to my bedroom... Every Wednesday I share a review of a book. The book is chosen for me weekly and I cannot refuse the book, I have to read it and I have to review it.

#featured #Kon Mari

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scullysexual · 5 years

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titanic au | multichapter-au | au | multiple parts | historical au | msr | mature | ao3 | wc: 2,060 | 2/13 |

For Mulder, a wealthy English-bred socialite who’s had everything given to him since birth, the Titanic is shipping him off to a prison, a life he no longer wishes for or wants. For Scully, an Irish stranger from the lower class, it offers a new life, a future she can truly envision in America. What if the universe put them on the same path to achieve those dreams at the cost of life?

@today-in-fic

- - -

A Jewel Beneath The Moonlight: Chapter Two.

What’s a bit of lack of sleep for a week?

In the mirror, he catches the reflection of the safe. Spinning, he walks over to it, pulling it open. His hand strokes the inside feeling the cold iron. It’s of decent size, enough room to place valuables. He looks to the carry-on he’d brought on with him, an idea in his head. Reaching into the bag, his fingers gripping hold of the old leather book. Pulling it out, he places it inside the safe. With a bit of manoeuvring he manages to fit it in and be able to lock the safe afterwards.

Few people know about that book, a few more know about his talent that comes with it. Phoebe knew about the talent but not the book. His parents know briefly of his talent but again, not the book. The book is his and while he is in no way ashamed of his drawings- in fact, if you were to turn the first page you’d be met with a very innocent drawing of his sister, however a bit further on and you’ll find the not-so-innocent drawings. It was those he wanted to keep secret.

Mulder groans.

“Did you really have to bring that thing, Phoebe?”

Phoebe looks at him as though he’s just told her she wouldn’t be eating dinner for a month.

“Of course I had to bring her Fox,” she says in utter disgust. “Did you just expect me to leave him behind?” She takes the Maltese out of its cage, hand it to one of her maids before she holds the animal up.

Mulder stares at the hairball currently in his face. “Can’t you take her?” he asks, careful to use the word ‘her’ rather than ‘it’.

“I can’t. I need to unpack.”

“I can do that.”

Phoebe looks at him like he’s grown another head.

“No, you’ll just put things in the wrong place.”

Mulder sighs and accepts his punishment.

“Alright, where’s the leash?”

He lets the dog get on with it, lets it take its time too, maybe it’ll wander too far to the rail and fall off the ship, but Mulder doubts he’s that lucky.

A second man, older than the first, sits on a bench with his eyes shut and lets the breeze ruffle what little hair he has.

“You envy them?” Mulder asks. Most people he’s met in his life scorn them, question how they could live like that. A change in tune is a nice welcome.

“A little bit. Makes you wonder what experiences he’s had this far.”

The boy turns and Mulder is taken back slightly by the gash on his face.

“He’s experienced a good punch if that cut is anything to go by,” Mulder laughs. He stretches his arm out towards the man. “I’m Mulder,” he says.

The name strikes no recognition with a man for which Mulder is absolutely grateful for.

“John Byers.”

Similarly, the name does strike any recognition for Mulder either. The two shake hands just as the dogs wander over. Mulder opens the gate, attaching the leash back onto Tuppence.

“I’ll see you at dinner, then?” Byers calls as Mulder makes his way back inside.

“Yes, you will.”

All in all, the whole debacle had delayed them by thirty minutes.

“Fox…Fox…” he swear he hears his Mother saying.

It’s Phoebe’s sigh of annoyance that forces him out of his reverie.

“He’s doing that thing again, Mother.”

“Fox!” his father barks. Mulder looks to his father, dazed for a moment and fully aware he has no idea what conversation is going on. “Mr Skinner is speaking to you.”

Mulder looks towards the bald man, only now realising that he had joined their table.

“I’m sorry, Mr Skinner,” Mulder apologises. “You were saying?”

“I was just congratulating you and Miss Green on your engagement,” Skinner tells him.

Mulder smiles and reaches for Phoebe’s hand on the table, clasping their fingers together. Not showing anything is amiss, Phoebe smiles.

“Thank you, Mr Skinner,” Mulder says. He looks to Phoebe then. “My only wish is for this week to hurry so I can soon make Phoebe my wife officially.”

He brings the hand he holds to his lips then, placing a gentle kiss to the top of it. And Phoebe sincerely smiles at him.

Mulder’s never hated himself more.

Just as they’re finishing their third course does the conversation change once more. Mulder pays no mind to it, he nods when he’s expected to and that is all.

“You’re old friend Bill,” a man from the farther end of the table shouts over. “Spender- is he on the ship, do you know?”

“I saw his son before,” says Phoebe. “He didn’t look too happy.”

“You remember Jeffrey, don’t you, son?” Bill asks Mulder.

“Yes, he was in my Psychology class at Oxford,” Mulder answers simply before going back to his soup.

The man at the end of the table pipes up again. “I never saw the point in educating yourself on those types of subjects. Seems a waste of time.”

“Fox has a special knack for reading people, don’t you?”

Mulder nods. And I can read you people better than you think.

Dessert is on it’s way when the conversation changes once more. The man at the end of the table telling everyone, once again, that he has an opinion to make.

“Would anyone else sleep better knowing we weren’t sharing a boat with steerage?”

Mulder’s stomach twists.

“Mother and I saw some wandering down our hallway earlier. How they managed to get up there, I have no idea.”

“Maybe they were just lost, Phoebe,” Mulder says as gently as he can, the anger seething beneath.

“Whatever they’re excuse, a crewmember soon shouted at them to leave and off they scurried off.”

“Like rats in the woodwork, back down to the basement were they belong,” the man at the end of the table gruffly laughs.

“I’m sure they won’t be an issue anymore,” says Father.

Done with the conversation and dinner all together, Mulder denies dessert as its served.

“I just feel a bit sick,” Mulder says when questioned.

“You might have caught something off the docks earlier,” says Phoebe reaching up to touch his forehead. She looks to the gathering worriedly, “He is burning up.”

Mulder brings her hand away. “I’ll see you later on,” he says and with that he leaves the table, no kiss, no hug, no form of intimacy at all, he just leaves.

He makes his way to the back of the ship, away from on-lookers and those who would judge him, happy to find the stern empty.

His heart is in this throat every step. Mulder never considered himself afraid of much, if he was dared to do something he’d do it but maybe it’s the fact that he’s alone that scares him. Whenever you do a dare there’s always at least another person, someone to catch you if you fall, someone to pull you back when they get too scared but out here it’s only him- only him, the ship, and the sea and if he falls that’s it.

“I hope you’re not considering jumping?”

Mulder startles, almost losing his balance in the process. He grips the rails tighter, wondering if this was such a good idea after all.

A nervous laugh falls from his lips.

“I wasn’t until you nearly made me.”

“Sorry,” the woman says. A woman’s voice. “I just saw you climb up there and got a wee bit nervous, that’s all.”

Mulder twists slightly so he can see the person. As he turns, he almost falls again when he realises who’s standing there.

The red-head from earlier.

“Maybe you should get down,” she says, face a full display of concern. She edges closer slowly. “It’s a hard long fall if you fall off.”

She leans against the rails just as he’d done earlier.

“Maybe I like the risk,” Mulder says, a façade of a fearless smile appearing across his face. Really, he was shitting bricks.

Mulder looks down into the water directly below him.

“How long we talking?” he asks.

Her answer is quick, ready like she’d been prepared to answer all along.

Gaining her point, he begins to twist on the rails, back to the sea as he jumps down.

He stretches out his hand, curious as to why the universe as thrown her in his path for a second time that day and even more curious to know why she knows so much about cold water.

“I’m Mulder.”

She ignores his hand, an eyebrow shooting up. “Mulder? I’m not entitled to a first name?”

Mulder laughs nervously again, throwing his arm to his side. “You don’t want to know it.”

She regards him, as if wondering whether he is worth an interest in or not.

“In that case…” she draws out. “I’m Scully.”

#txf fic #titanic au #i write

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