#I love this stupid old man *puts him in devastating situations* | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

d-lissa · 11 months

Text

Liveblogging TMA - Season 3 - MAG 86-90

"Sure. If you ignore all the corpses. And the monsters. And the disappearances."

TUCKED IN :

That one makes me think of "A Sturdy Lock". Of course, whatever concept behind it is probably The Darkness, or whatever it is called, but the ... Modus Operandi, if you could call it that, of this one definitely remind me of that other statement. I guess I have my answer as to why the old man managed to survive by locking a room that didn't have a lock.

He probably was actually hallucinating this part, but this is also probably what saved him for so long from the darkness. And after a moment, maybe he got used to it, to the point that believing that the door was locked and that the thing wouldn't ever enter probably was enough of a relief to stop being scared.

Talk about upsetting.

Speaking of upsetting, Tim is bitter, but what else is new, Melanie is kind of awesome in that bitchy way of hers, but what else is new, and Martin is very gay, but what else is new.

But hey, at least Melanie will know things now, which is good. She will make a good spy. Or, well, she would've had if she wasn't probably being set up by Elias to die an awful and painful death.

Cheers.

THE UNCANNY VALLEY :

"She was silent as I left, and seemed as though she was trying to get over some sort of shock."

... Ok, so. First of all, Sebastian Skinner ?

An absolute legend. I stan.

Secondly, I dont think I'll ever be able to hear that circus music without any hint of panic going through my system ever again.

Jude Perry sounds like an ... Interesting character. Was she the one with Agnes in "Burning Desire", maybe ?

Whatever Orsinov and her circus are, they're obviously a part of The Stranger, which is apparently out for Jon now ! How lovely. And their goal is to bring about a ... New World ? Maybe one where their concept rules over it all in broad delight. Something that would very likely destroy humanity.

I guess I know how that apocalypse happens.

Gertrude has obviously worked on stopping it for quite a while, while also trying to destroy the Archive, and she got injured, apparently ?

A new concept came in, called The Devastation, which ... Puts a lot of things in perspective, actually. And it is allied to The Lightless Flame ? The Lightless Flame is the burning, obviously, but then is The Devastation the darkness ?

Until we get more information on each of those, I will keep myself from making a list of what I think each concept impacted which episode.

Georgie is a sweet heart, and with every passing episode, I fear more and more for her life. Meanwhile, Jon needs a nap. A very long one, for a few days at least.

Before he starts doing something stupid like seeking out the burning lady that laughed at the pain of some guy, you know ?

Yeah.

The list of episods probably linked to The Devastation, if it is the darkness :

"A Father's Love"

"Growing Dark"

"A Sturdy Lock" (?)

"Exceptional Risk"

"The End of the Tunnel"

"Police Lights"

"Tucked In"

DIG :

"A hollow space that all eyes point towards. And I intend to reach it, if my fingers don’t give out first."

Oh.

Oh, I do not like this.

Ok, so new Leitner, there's something hidden underneath the Archives, and the calliope disappeared.

Is there anything good happening ever into this whole situation ? Anything ? Not even actually good, but just not with absolutely sickening implications.

Basira is worried and looking for Daisy, and it sounds like she's worried Daisy might kill Jon, which. Fair, if she wasn't so mad at Elias. Actually, I could see her killing Jon just to pose a problem to Elias who seemed pretty adament to keep Jon. Not keep him safe, probably not, but keep him alive in general.

And Martin sounded kind of ... Jealous ? Of Basira ? When she talked about liking Jon and how he was pretty alright and funny when you know him better, so like. I feel like it hit a spot ?

God, I am loving the character work being done on everyone. Like, yes, yes, the horror is good, but it certainly wasn't my favourite aspect of it, and I have been so eager to learn more about who these people are for so long, something that the last two seasons only mostly gave in the finale.

TWICE AS BRIGHT :

"The audience is only safe when the story isn’t about them."

... Welp, guess he did seek out the burning lady.

Alright.

Fuck me, I guess.

I mean, I get it, the man is desperate, and is apparently compelled by his "god" to seek knowledge and information, probably even at the expanse of his health and safety, but still. When I said that his curiosity will be the death of him, I didn't expect it to be so spot on.

But marvelous piece of insight into the lore of the concepts, I am living for it.

Jonathan can apparently compel people to tell him what he wants to know which is just, really amazing and fitting, and also probably explained Daisy's first appearance. And why she'd hate him as much as she does, for forcing her to say all of this that she never intended to mention to anyone else.

Still, I kind of feel sorry for the lack of possible abilities to manifest in the real world, rather than the psychic one, to protect him from literal fire people and just death and danger in general.

Jude had a very interesting tale to tell, as well as what her god is like, The Desolation, while The Eye got a new title in "Ceaseless Watcher", which is fitting too.

I can see why something named The Desolation would pair up with The Devastation. The differences between the two concept are rather rare, as I feel like they are pretty similar, but I assume that where The Devastation just wants to destroy everything, The Desolation just seeks make people feel it, which would quite easily happen through the means of destruction.

So, similar, but not the same, despite their overlaps.

I can't say that the derision Jude feels toward The Eye makes a lot of sense to me. I mean, yes, the thing doesn't act, but knowledge is pretty powerful in and of itself, especially to the people that are willing to use it.

Of course, I guess that it sounds kind of laughable to someone able to burn someone into a crisp at a snap of her fingers.

Next up on "The Misadventures and Tortures of Jonathan Sims", we are to meet Michael Crew. How very.

I guess that the way to worship The Eye is the statements ? Information in general, maybe ? It would explain why Jon feels so compelled to making them, despite knowing that they're not good for him. That this entire situation is not good for him.

I joke about him being a dumbass, but he doesn't really have a choice, does he ?

He just has to know.

Even if it destroys him.

The list of episods probably linked to The Desolation :

"Burned Out"

"First Aid"

"Burnt Offering"

"Section 31"

"Pest Control"

"Recluse"

"Burning Desire"

"The Uncanney Valley"

"Twice as Bright"

BODY BUILDER :

"But when I looked in the mirror I still didn’t see what I wanted to."

Tim is, as usual, the only one genre savy in this entire fucking Archive. Not in the sense that everyone else just doesn't get it, more like they stopped struggling against it. Stubborn. I like that in a man.

Although, it doesn't feel like Martin is really getting what is happening around him. You know, the tapes always recording whenever anything of interest happens, the speculations, the compelment to stay, to the point where you feel miserable when you aren't.

At least Jon is still doing his duties as The Archivist. I guess that keeps him from feeling any of that ?

Jared is back, and I am still confused at whatever the whole deal is with his Leitner. Like, what concept does he follow ? I think it is probably similar to the one behind all of the meat and cannibalism, but I can't even be sure.

I am feeling that body dysmorphia though. What an unpleasant feeling, when your own flesh and skin feels alien to you, when you can't ever be satisfied by what it is, to the point you'll destroy yourself reaching for that perfection that won't ever exist.

Makes for a pretty good horror story, quite frankly.

The quote of the post will be :

"The blanket never did anything"

End Liveblogging.

#tma #the magnus archive #liveblogging #liveblog-tma

2 notes · View notes

tokoyamisstuff · 2 years

Text

Habromania - (n.) delusions of happiness

After losing almost everything, Reiner desperately clings to the last person keeping his sanity together.

Warnings: Yandere! Reiner, Noncon, Mental Illness, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Kidnapping, Cussing...

...Proceed at your own Risk!

Words: ~1500

"Shit, Y/N, I've missed you so fucking much..."

That familiar sting in your chest returned surprisingly, hurting as if your heart was currently doing something it wasn't supposed to do.

How fitting, you thought.

"What are-what are you doing?" You dreaded the answer as soon as those words left your lips.

"Sharing a bed with you as lovers would!" Reiner cheered in response, as if this bizarre situation was the most natural thing in the world.

"You're insane." You wanted to say something like this or even worse, but the words died in your throat. Hopeless, you thought, for all those weeks in this filthy Marleyan prison, you never succeeded to make him see the light.

Whatever accusations you threw at him, they wouldn't reach through to him. So many fruitless attempts to escape, all for naught. You could yell and struggle and cry all you wanted, but in the end, Reiner would take it all with his stupid affectionate smile.

None of it would have any influence on the wall he built around reality, blocking the hopeless situation your fake romance had from the very beginning.

He'd always reassure you - or rather himself - through saying you'd just need some more time to acclimate to your new situation...

...and even if you were really honest in your hate for him, Reiner was certain to make you his again.

It was almost ironic how over the years, pain didn't equal fear or suffering anymore. While witnessing more death and devastation than a human soul should ever bear, it had become more of a steady companion, or an old friend even.

Actually, right now that sensation wasand the only thing indicating that you were in fact still alive, even if your soul longed for a different state of being.

After everything that has happened in your miserable life - the war, the betrayal, the loss. God, simply the whole sheer mass of traumatic events that led to this point made you think to have become unfeeling.

Yet here you were, and it seemed like you were still capable to feel something, anything after all. Even if it's just the same, aching emotion you had grown tired of a long time ago.

Goddamn it, even death would be way easier - the only way to feel nothing at all.

"I love you, Y/N" he ultimatively declared, voice barely above a whisper as his broad frame towered over your helpless self, pecking your tear-stained face. "So, so much."

You bit your lip at his words, frantically suppressing the tears prickling at the rim of your eyes. No way you'd show him, give him the satisfaction of knowing that he still held that much power over your heart.

However, Reiner's mind wouldn't let anything slip, twisting any reaction of yours as input, nourishing his sick delusions.

"Relax" he shooed you for god knows how many times now, taking a deep breath just to savour your scent a little longer. Yet as soon as his hands started caressing sides, the sensation made a sharp chill creep up your spine. "You're safe now."

It hurt so damn much.

Not your past, with all it's undescribable horrors.

Not the fact that you were currently a war prisoner, far away from your doomed homeland.

No, not even the fact that your former lover was about to force himself upon you...

...but the fact that still - against all reason - your heart was screaming for him.

Even in this situation, this all too familiar position you once voluntarily put yourself into, your common sense was the only thing keeping you from succumb to this play.

It hurt how damn good it felt.

The fact that instead of being rough and demanding, the man in front of you was tending to your body with great care.

The way he looked at you with that innocent and lovestruck smile, in contrast to his sick actions. How he avoided to even remotely harm you as he warded off your hopeless efforts to free yourself from his embrace.

Because Reiner might have lied to you about many things - but not about this. Never about his love to you.

It was sweet torture how Reiner would prolong the inevitable, tenderly stroking and roaming every inch of your body while sending sweet affirmations your way.

This was nothing like you to just give in to your fate, yet here you were, limp and mute from exhaustion - both mentally and physically.

Maybe it was alright if you stopped fighting, if you just gave in to this pull towards Reiner that was stronger than gravity.

All of you were forsaken in this cruel world anyway, so why not play pretend as long as it lasts?

Memories of better days, so many unspoken words and dreams of a shared future flooded your brain, causing you to doubt your own sanity as well.

Were you losing your mind as well, slowly and steadily the longer you were trapped in here?!

"Do-on't." Your voice broke off, sore from all the earlier screaming - but it was now or never. Sadly, your strenght was nothing compared to his, so pressing your thighs together only spared you a few seconds. Reiner opened them with ease, revealing your shamefully slick core and placing himself in front of it. "Stop it, please."

Again, Reiner's mind chose to ignore your distraught and proceeded with whatever illogical, unreal act of love he intended. "It's alright, babydoll. It's just me, right?"

Yet something inside of him was wise enough to avoid your eyes as he entered you, his low voice fading into a deep groan that made you shiver.

You clasped the sheets, still fighting against the temptation to just let yourself fall as Reiner started moving his hips in a slow pace, gently pecking your neck and collarbone.

"I love you" he repeated, this time louder and with a voice as firm as never before.

But you could think about nothing else than the burning hate raging inside of you.

Hate for Reiner, making you fall in love with an enemy that is guilty of more things than you wanted to voice aloud.

Hate for yourself, feeding his psychosis with every moan and touch you couldn't suppress.

And especially hate for this world that broke the two of you, and would never allow you to be together.

"Re-Reiner!" A last try to argue ended in you preaching his name, your lends burning under the gentleness of his touch. You closed your eyes, pressed your lids together to dwell in that pure lust, shunning out the soulcrushing reality...

...until something wet hit your face, making you return from your dream.

It was him.

Reiner was wearing his trademark smile as usually, like he'd always do to hide the real turmoil of emotion that has been tearing him up ever since his childhood.

But this one bordered on pure madness. A bizarre grin stretched across his face, with tears simultaneously running down his cheeks.

"I'm so sorry, Y/N, for everything, I-I'm a monster, I know that. I did unforgiveable things, and yet...I can't stop, I can't stay away from you, I-"

Before your mind could catch up on your heart, your arms were already wrapped around him, pulling him in until both of your lips would meet.

Reiner sobbed and moaned into your mouth even as you continued your ecstatical embrace, no intention to ever let go as he rode you through your high.

"Marry me" he urged with his face buried into your neck, still holding on to you as if you'd disappear if he ever let go. "Just like we promised each other back on Paradis."

It can never be. One of you, or even both will be killed. Fate can't be changed just by meaningful words and strong emotions alone.

"Yeah." Your face was wiped clean of any emotion, but you were quick to shake it off and put on a mask again, smiling brightly in his direction. "We soon don't have to serve the military anymore, so we'll finally be able to start a family, right?"

And yet, you laid with him, let him fill you with his seed and catched yourself hoping to conceive a child.

Maybe it would be easier if your mind would just cope by shunning out reality and falling for him once again.

Did you really mean those words, or was it to tame the beast slumbering next to you? Or was his madness really contagious?

All you knew was that being like this, right here in his arms where time stopped and the world couldn't hurt you, was the only place you ever felt right.

Indeed, there was no going back now.

#reiner braun #reiner braun x reader #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #armored titan #reiner x you #reiner x y/n #reiner / reader #reiner / you #reiner x reader #reiner braun x you #reiner braun x y/n #reiner braun / reader #reiner braun / you #self insert #writing

237 notes · View notes

vrishchikawrites · 3 years

Note

Its a prompt! (And dont worry about it, absolutely love reading your writing XD) Okay so dimension travel, so we all agree in a world where WWX was raised in another sect (like Lan/Nie) That he would be absolutely adored by them and everyone, healthy relationships( even Jin Zixuan and Wei Wuxian wouldn't be on a bad term much because no WWX JYL interaction) so! Canon!WWX from post ssc timeline gets transmigrated/summoned to one of these worlds where hes raised by either Lan or Nie so 1/2

They're a bit confused seeing WWX in black clothes, and seeing his gaunt/tired appearance and him being so on guard around them (since he's usually open and loved) that they ask him why is it so? Does he not know Lan Xichen/Nie Mingjue back from whicher place he came from, and Wei Wuxian goes 'Ive met them/we're not close' they ask 'sorry if its a bit personal but who were you raised by?' and WWX replies the Jiangs and cue everyone horrified cuz Jiangs areopen in their heavy dislike of WWX2/2

'It's my fault.' Nie Huaisang thinks as he frantically collects all the materials needed, 'It is my fault, I need to fix this.'

His er-ge was gone. His brother, Da-ge's pride and joy, the shining star of the Nie Clan.

Gone. Just like that.

One minute they're on an easy nighthunt and the next, Wei Wuxian is pushing him away to take an attack straight to his chest.

He knows his brother is gone. His body may be alive, but just barely. He's drowning in his own blood and there's nothing Nie Huaisang can do. There's no cognition in his eyes, that bright silver gaze is dull and blank.

He has to do something.

The ritual may not work. It came with so many warnings that Nie Huaisang lost the patience to read them all the way through. If something goes wrong, it goes wrong.

"Huaisang! What are you doing?!" Da-ge's voice is loud but Nie Huaisang doesn't pay any attention to it. The room is sealed and it would take da-ge some time to break through it.

"Nie Huaisang!"

Good, Lan Xichen is here. He'll take care of da-ge if something goes wrong.

"Huaisang!" There's a loud crash but he doesn't pay any attention to it, "Stop! Don't do something stupid."

"I need to save him. It is my fault, I need to save him!"

"Huaisang!"

There's a bright red flash and it drowns out everything.

---

Miraculously, he survives.

His fledgling Golden Core has shattered and melted into nothing, but he has survived.

And he has done it.

"Does your stupidity known no bounds?" Da-ge demands as Lan Wangji kneels by er-ge's bed and feeds him potent spiritual energy.

Wei Wuxian is alive. His cognition is intact and his Golden Core is stable but he's soaked in Resentful Energy.

"You destroyed your Golden Core, Huaisang! There's no recovering from it!"

"Wouldn't you do the same?" He demands, turning around to look at his oldest brother. He ignores Lan Xichen's alarmed voice and focuses on Nie Mingjue, "Is his life worth less than my Golden Core?"

Da-ge locks his jaw but doesn't reply. Of course, Wei Wuxian's life is worth more than a Golden Core.

"Huaisang," Lan Xichen sighs, "a-Xian wouldn't have wanted this."

"Look at Wangji-xiong and tell me that again." He says bluntly. He is tired and drained but no one can convince him that reviving er-ge wasn't the right choice.

Xichen-ge doesn't reply because no one can look at the devastated expression on Lan Wangji's face and say it wasn't worth it.

Huaisang doesn't feel the absence of the core as keenly as someone else might. He had only developed it during the Sunshot Campaign, after all.

He isn't like er-ge or Wangji-xiong, with their powerful cores and potent spiritual energy. The loss would've been devastating to them but is only an afterthought to him.

---

They realize something is off when Wei Wuxian opens his eyes and looks at them with distant wariness instead of familiar affection. He looks around and is instantly on guard, "Where... Why am I here?"

He looks directly at Wangji-xiong, "Lan Zhan? What are you... Have you brought me here?" He demanded, his expression shifting to something hostile, "Are we in Gusu?"

"Wei-gongzi," Xichen-ge calls for his attention, "I know you're very confused but please don't be alarmed. We're in your home at the Unclean Realm, not in Gusu."

Er-ge narrows his eyes and Huaisang recognizes that expression, even though it has never been directed towards them. A look of cool calculation as er-ge tries to decipher their motives. "My home?" He asks.

Wangji-xiong knows er-ge almost as well as they do. He reaches forward, "Wei Ying, let us explain, please."

It appears that this Wei Wuxian is just as vulnerable to Wangji-xiong as his brother had been because he softens immediately. His body is still tense but he seems to be willing to listen.

"You died in this world, saving Huaisang's life." Da-ge begins gruffly. Huaisang winces at the bluntness but er-ge seems to appreciate it, his sharp gaze focusing on their elder brother, "Yes, this world," Da-ge confirms, "Our didi decided he wouldn't tolerate it and decided to use one of our forbidden rituals to revive you. He didn't read things clearly. The ritual dragged your soul from another world and placed you in his body."

Er-ge's expression is skeptical, "Our didi..."

Wangji-xiong sucks in a sharp breath, "Wei Ying," His brother's gaze moves to his 'best friend', "You are Wei Wuxian, 23 years old, the Head Disciple of QingheNie Sect, the adopted younger brother of Nie Mingjue and older brother to Nie Huaisang. You were adopted by the former Nie-zongzhu when you were six years old."

Er-ge stares at Wangji-xiong in stunned disbelief but there's no denial in his expression.

No wonder, Wangji-xiong never lies. That must be true in his world as well.

"a-Xian," Er-ge winces and looks at Xichen-ge, "You need to rest and recover. Your Golden Core is stab-"

Er-ge gasps and immediately sits up, placing his hand on his chest. He closes his eyes and almost violently summons his spiritual energy.

"Wei Ying!" Wangji-xiong calls out in alarm but his brother doesn't pay any attention, his focus entirely inward.

"I have my Golden Core back..." Er-ge breathes, astonished but his skin goes white and he loses consciousness.

They exchange stunned glances before scrambling forward to check on him.

---

No one can deny Wei Wuxian has changed. It takes a month for his body to recover but his heart is still unsteady. He puts on every appearance of being alright, but Huaisang has grown up with this man. He knows something is off.

It is only when er-ge decides he needs to start training again that things start to become clear. Er-ge has trained all of his life to fight with a Dao. His movements are powerful and aggressive, designed to overwhelm the enemy.

Er-ge's mind, however, is accustomed to the traditional Jian. He seems to expect his movements to be lighter, faster. More agile and less powerful.

The dissonance makes him clumsy and he loses his first fight against Lan Wangji in a long time.

"Wei Ying?" Wangji-xiong frowns, "Your movements."

Da-ge has his concerned scowl on and he grabs Baxia, stepping into the training field, "With me, Wuxian."

This fight is faster and more brutal. Huaisang almost wants to protest but he can see er-ge adjust and adapt quickly.

His eyes gain a razor-sharp focus and his battle instincts come to the fore. "Good," Xichen-ge observes, "He's accepting his body."

Indeed, he is. Against da-ge's overwhelming force, there's nothing er-ge can do but react instinctively. They engage in several bouts and keep at it for over a shichen.

By the end of it, er-ge is exhausted but faintly triumphant.

"Lan Zhan, again!"

"Wei Ying, you need rest." Wangji-xiong says with a shake of his head, "Don't strain yourself."

"Why were you fighting like you wanted to wield a Jian, didi?" Da-ge asks sternly, "You were hesitant and weak in some strikes."

Er-ge grimaces and Xichen-ge steps forward. It has been over a month and though er-ge has seen how much they all care for him, he remains wary.

"a-Xian," Xichen-ge begins gently, "You weren't a part of the Nie Clan in the past, were you?"

Da-ge's scowl deepens at the thought of er-ge belonging to anyone else but them. They had suspected something like this, of course. But they had hoped that er-ge would've still been a part of the Nie Sect if not the Clan.

Er-ge remains wary but sighs, "No."

"Not the Lans," Xichen-ge observes astutely, "Not the Jins either. Were you a rogue cultivator? Or from a smaller sect?"

Er-ge studies him before shaking his head, "I was the Head Disciple of the Jiangs."

"What?" Wangji-xiong asks, his voice uncharacteristically sharp, "Jiangs?"

Da-ge looks furious and Xichen-ge seems pained. No wonder, given how... problematic the Jiang situation is. That family is entirely unsuitable for someone as loving and giving as his er-ge!

Jiang Wanyin is a complex mix of pride and insecurity. He lags behind all sect heirs, though Huaisang is fairly certain their batch of cultivators is particularly skilled. Er-ge and Wangji-xiong are exceptional in every way and Jin Zixuan is barely a few steps behind.

In the face of such competition, skilled but ordinary cultivators can't help but be overshadowed.

Jiang Fengmian, according to da-ge, is a meek little imitation of his former self. The man that pursued er-ge's mother had been strong and wise. He had the skill, political acumen, and grace to be an admirable Sect Leader.

His marriage to Yu Ziyuan ruined him.

And Yu Ziyuan is a nightmare. The one time she met Wei Wuxian, she had left such an impression that da-ge had cut all ties with the Jiang Sect until its Madam apologized to the Nie Sect Head Disciple.

That hadn't gone down well and the relationship between them is still sour.

"Do you want to return to them?" He blurts out, unable to help himself. If Jiangs are this Wei Wuxian's family then maybe-

"No."

They still because that's a very firm no. It is a complete and utter rejection of the very thought of it.

"No."

---

Getting the whole story out of er-ge is like pulling teeth but between Wangji-xiong's pleas, Xichen-ge's gentle questions, da-ge impassioned demands, and his own begging, they manage.

This Wei Wuxian doesn't love them yet but he sees their love for him clearly. That softens his heart and they get to hear every painful, excruciating aspect of his past life.

Wangji-xiong looks furious, da-ge paces, Xichen-ge is pale, but all of that doesn't matter.

He recognizes the look on er-ge's face. He has never seen it on him before, but he recognizes it.

Er-ge expects them to reject him. To abandon him for his 'sins'.

"Well, I don't have a Golden Core. Can you teach me Demonic Cultivation?"

"Huaisang!" Is yelled from almost every direction but he only has eyes for his older brother.

He sees those tired silver eyes study him for a moment before they soften completely, turning into the color of liquid moonlight. "You brat," Er-ge murmurs affectionately, "The thought of you wielding that power is nothing short of terrifying."

"But er-ge! Can you leave me defenseless, just like that? Don't you feel sorry for me-"

"Huaisang!" Da-ge snaps, "Stop trying to manipulate your brother!"

"Really, a-Sang, it isn't right for you to-"

Er-ge laughs. It's familiar, loud, and openly joyous. Silver eyes sparkle as he looks at them, "Don't worry, da-ge, he's a hundred years too early to manipulate me."

Wangji-xiong huffs, "Wei Ying."

"Lan Zhan," Er-ge teases, "How is that you manage to reprimand me by only saying my name? Shall I try it too? Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan!"

"And they're flirting again." He murmurs under his breath, drawing an amused look from Xichen-ge.

"Perhaps we really need to start betrothal negotiations," Xichen-ge says and da-ge scoffs.

"Not going to happen unless you're willing to part with your brother. Mine is my heir. He's not marrying into the Lans."

"Da-ge, be reasonable-"

Huaisang tunes them out and waves his fan in front of his face, his mind whirling.

He doesn't care about er-ge's marriage negotiations. He has bigger fish to fry.

Really, those Jins and Jiangs are getting too bold.

#short prompts #nie!wwx #wei wuxian #nie huaisang #lan wangji #lan xichen #nie mingjue #anti jiang cheng #anti jiang sect

269 notes · View notes

stiltonbasket · 3 years

Note

au of an au for qin su!wwx where wwx is still in qin su's body but it's JYL who gets summoned back in MXY's body.

Jiang Yanli doesn’t know what she was expecting to happen after she died, but it certainly wasn’t waking up a few minutes later in a donkey shed with blood all over her robes.

She’d been stabbed, she remembers. Perhaps they put her in the first sheltered place they could find while the battle was still going on, and somehow missed the fact that she was still alive? Yanli reaches up to her chest and tries to feel her heartbeat; she is somehow very certain that she had died, since the look on A-Xian’s face when the sword went through her chest was--

But the memory remains unfinished, because Yanli’s hands are poking at her bosom, patting over her ribs one by one as she wonders when she became so thin. Her mother always complained about her narrow figure, even as she scolded her for eating so much when she was in her teens--and Madam Jin worried about how difficult childbirth might be before Jin Ling arrived, since her waist and hips were so skinny--but her breasts were never this flat, and her ribs never stuck out this much even when she was a child.

And then her fingers brush over the rounded lump at her throat, and reveal the truth in one devastating blow that brings Yanli to her knees.

This isn’t my body, she realizes, backing away from the bloody array on the ground and into the rickety cupboard standing against the wall. This is a man’s body.

___

Less than two hours after she wakes, Yanli escapes from the Mo estate in such turmoil that she almost forgets to take the donkey with her.

Keep your wits about you, she berates herself, dressing herself in the only set of spare robes she could find before squirming out of the shed’s high window and crumpling into the dust outside. Mo Xuanyu meant to bring back A-Xian, but that means that A-Xian is...

She blinks back tears, dragging the donkey down the road behind her as she reads over Mo Xuanyu’s letter again. The poor boy had been one of Jin Guangshan’s illegitimate sons, Jiang Yanli’s own xiaoshuzi, and Jin Guangyao had exiled him because he had learned the truth about Qin Su being his younger half-sister.

He was behind your death, too, the letter said. I believe he might even have organized Jin Zixuan’s assassination, since he most likely murdered our father, as well.

Jiang Yanli grits her teeth and pushes on. The single long cut in her arm throbs--a cut that will heal only when Jin Guangyao dies, according to Mo Xuanyu--but the sting is nothing to the twenty hours of sheer agony that was giving birth to Jin Ling, who turned out so big and chubby that she spent the first few hours of his life wondering how such an enormous baby could have possibly fit inside her.

How old would A-Ling be now? she wonders. Did Jin Guangyao and Qin Su bring him up, in mine and Zixuan’s place?

Oddly enough, she doesn’t find herself shying away at the thought of bringing Jin Guangyao to justice. She can probably count on Nie Mingjue to do the actual killing, if it comes to it; there was bad blood between the two even before she and her husband died, and quite frankly, she doesn’t blame Nie Mingjue for it.

A-Xian tore the men who killed the Jiang shidis and shimeis limb from limb, and she would expect no less from a man who watched Jin Guangyao kill his brothers-in-arms right before his eyes.

But then, why did they swear brotherhood after that?

It must have been for Zewu-jun’s sake, Yanli thinks wearily, when she finally stops at a river crossing and leads her donkey down onto the pebbly beach to take a drink. Though I doubt that Zewu-jun could have sworn brotherhood with anyone who had Lan blood on their hands, whether he owed them a life-debt or not.

Her stomach growls, and she searches in the donkey’s saddle-bag for something to eat just in case the owners of the Mo estate had left some bread or fruit there to coax the animal with. Her brief hunt yields a pair of shriveling apples, half-dried but not yet spoiled, so she washes down the fresher one with plenty of cold water and feeds the bigger, drier apple to the donkey.

“I think I’ll call you Apple,” she laughs, as it wolfs down the fruit before sticking its muzzle back into the bubbling stream. “Do you like your name, xiao-pingguo?”

Little Apple takes to the name well enough, and brays contentedly every time she calls it. They rest together by the river for an hour, with Yanli napping in the shade with Little Apple keeping guard; and she starts off again just after noon, hoping to find a main road that might direct her to a town and then towards the nearest cultivation sect.

Jiang Yanli has to admit that Yunmeng Jiang is out of the question: because as much as she loves her younger brother, she highly doubts that he won’t do something stupid if he thinks some nameless Jin exile is pretending to be her. And she certainly can’t go back to Lanling with Jin Guangyao still there, so her quarry will have to be the Gusu Lan clan. Hanguang-jun was friends with her A-Xian, and would surely hear her out for his sake if for nothing else; and Zewu-jun is not as hot-tempered as Chifeng-zun, meaning that Yanli will come to no harm even if Lan-zongzhu doesn’t believe her.

“Xiao-Pingguo,” Yanli begins, stepping over something silvery in the grass as the two of them head deeper into the woods, “how far do you think the--”

Suddenly, her legs go out from under her. Little Apple brays and backs away in alarm, tossing his head anxiously as Yanli struggles into a sitting position and tries to make sense of the fact that her donkey is now over ten feet below her.

“What on earth?” she mutters, biting back one of A-Xian’s favorite curse words as she takes stock of her current situation: trapped inside a net swaying far above the ground, and with no means of cutting her way free from it without breaking her own neck.

“It caught something!” Yanli hears a boyish voice shout, followed by the crackling of someone rushing through the forest and the twang of a drawn bowstring. “Duck, Yu-da-shixiong! I’m going to shoot!”

“You are going to do no such thing,” someone else drawls, with a hint of a sharp Northern accent that reminds her of her late mother. “At least see what you’ve caught, you onionhead. If your stupid nets managed to catch a Lan, you’ll have Chifeng-zun and Hanguang-jun dragging you to Jin-zongzhu for punishment. Chifeng-zun might even punish you himself, since he’s Jin-zongzhu’s sworn da-ge. Do you really want to take the risk?”

“No,” the first boy grumbles. “And anyway, it looks like it’s just--you!”

The sudden dislike in his voice makes Yanli look down, startled, and then the breath flies out of her body as the Jin disciple marches up to stand beneath her.

“Jin Ling?” she asks, her own voice cracking like shattered glass as the Jiang disciple mounts his sword and flies up towards her, presumably so that he can help her climb out of the net. “A-Ling--is it you?”

#wangxian #the untamed #mo dao zu shi #jiang yanli #qin su!wwx #my fic #HERE IT IS #THE LONG AWAITED JYL #*bows #prompt fill #the jiang disciple is yu xihan btw #our boy :')#please reblog guys i am begging

310 notes · View notes

nightingaelic · 3 years

Note

Fallout new vegas companions taking the courier's place in lonesome road (+ cut companions if that's cool with u) (thanks!!)

The problem with trying to adapt Lonesome Road to another character's experience is that so much of its story hinges on the courier's missing past and the former Frumentarius' struggle to make them understand what happened, why it caused a shockwave across multiple lives, locations and generations, and whether to avenge or let go of the harm that was unknowingly done to the Divide. So if you bring the companions into the mix instead of Courier Six, you either have a long-running story of mistaken identity (a hilarious concept, Ulysses being absolutely positive that the companion is the one who wrecked his dream home while they have no idea who this angry, verbose man is), or a drastically different history for the companions themselves. I say let's give that second option a shot, it seems fun and headcanon-y.

Arcade Gannon: While I don't think Arcade would be directly responsible for the destruction of the Divide, I think he would pale at hearing Ulysses' message searching for Enclave agents and would set out to confront the angry courier on behalf of his hidden family. The Enclave remnants are already hunted by the NCR and the Brotherhood of Steel, and the last thing they need is to be chased out of yet another home over something they didn't personally do. He'd accept ED-E's help wholeheartedly and consider turning back every time he ran into marked men or tunnelers, but his own resolve to save his loved ones would urge him to persevere. I think his determination would intrigue Ulysses, enough to engage the young research scientist in conversation if he arrived at the end of the road in one piece, and the courier might even let go of his vendetta if Arcade revealed that he was doing this out of the goodness of his heart rather than a sense of duty. Arcade would cancel the nuke launch, but would seriously consider blowing up the Legion.

Craig Boone: We know the NCR and Legion were fighting over the Divide before the ICBMs leveled the area. But what if that was by design, rather than by accident? Maybe Boone has more skeletons in his closet than just Bitter Springs, and he was part of a strike team that used old Enclave technology to surprise the Legion forces and seal off an access route, a decision based on math and made by men who had never met the people of Hopeville and Ashton that they sentenced to death. It's yet another weight on the sniper's conscience, and yet another debt he feels obligated to pay, so when Ulysses' call goes out, he answers. The usual dangers of the Divide wouldn't slow him down, but the turbulent weather would irritate him to no end. Upon arrival at the temple, Boone wouldn't mince words because he already knows he's guilty of the charge and he knows Ulysses used to walk for the Legion. If he survived the encounter, Boone would take the opportunity to rain the same destruction down on Caesar's troops.

Lily Bowen: There are about 119 years of Lily's life as a super mutant that are unaccounted-for, and we know she suffers from schizophrenia like many other nightkin. Perhaps it was Lily who discovered the Enclave package and unwittingly left it in the home of America's missiles: Perhaps it was Leo. I'm inclined to think it was Leo, who was probably searching for a cache of Stealth Boys in the old military installations across the desert, and who simply didn't care when a new hole in the earth opened up behind him. Lily, on the other hand, cares deeply, and would set out after Ulysses in the interest of making amends where she could. More so than any other companion, I think Lily would be disturbed by the tunnelers and would go out of her way to crush them wherever they popped up. The marked men would earn her sympathy and she would do her best to knock them out without killing them. After doing the same to Ulysses, Lily would cancel the launch and weep over the subsequent loss of ED-E. She would likely bring the little eyebot back to the Mojave and search for a way to fix it.

Raul Alfonso Tejada: We already know that Raul goes to extreme lengths to avenge the people he cares about, so it wouldn't be too much of a stretch to mix his backstory into the story of the Divide. Following the murder of Claudia in Tucson/Two Sun, Raul chased Dirty Dave and his brothers across Arizona and into the town of Ashton before killing them. Unbeknownst to him, Dirty Dave had a package with him that could speak to the nuclear missile silos hidden in the Divide, and the earth crumbled behind the vaquero as he made his way back home. Though he'd heard of the devastation, Raul didn't put two and two together until Ulysses sent out his summons, and because he didn't have anything planned that week, the old mechanic decided to answer the call. He would put up with Ulysses' messages like a good sport until he encountered the man in the temple, where he would refuse to fight until the two talked things out like civil people. I think Ulysses would be surprised at the revelation that the ghoul he had cast as a villain was following his own quest for vengeance and unaware of the package, and would come away somewhat amused by the situation. They would most likely team up to fight off the marked men, and Raul would cancel the launch and take a wrench to the machines to prevent any more "misunderstandings."

Rose of Sharon Cassidy: Let's say one of Cass' caravans delivered a package back in the day. Let's say that package accidentally buried the caravan crew and an entire community along with it. Let's say Cass knows, and that's one of the reasons she drinks. While Courier Six walks the Divide out of curiosity about their missing past, I think Cass would do it as a form of penance in and of itself, with a little desire for self-destruction thrown into the mix. The journey would start out as a bender fueled by self-loathing and the fanciful notion of giving her missing caravan a proper funeral, and by the time Cass runs out of whiskey she's already halfway through the Cave of the Abaddon and punching holes through the tunnelers with her shotgun. She would largely ignore Ulysses' cryptic messages and holotapes, but she'd grow fond of the little eyebot that took a shine to her and would tear after it once the mysterious courier repossessed it. Following the final battle, Cass would cancel the launch, but only at the very last second, just to revel in the fleeting feeling of control.

Veronica Santangelo: I just can't see Veronica knowingly or unknowingly waking up a nuclear arsenal with a careless application of tech, but I can totally see her stumbling upon the aftermath of something her old mentor is responsible for. Father Elijah already has a tenuous grasp on the consequences of his own actions, and we know that the prototype tech that controls the Divide's weather is a Big MT project. Maybe Elijah paid Hopeville a visit to check it out and took his investigation a little too far when he discovered the nukes. This would explain Ulysses' directions to the old man to find the Sierra Madre, sealing his doom inside the casino. But where does that leave Ulysses? Along comes Veronica, following her mentor's trail of destruction, and the courier can't help but guide her along the path, show her the meaning of the wreckage and the danger of pre-war technology when left to the discretion of those with old-world values, like the Brotherhood. Along that line, I think Ulysses would try to test her like he does Courier Six, and would schedule a launch to see what she does. Veronica would cancel the launch and resolve to never tell her brothers and sisters in Steel about the secrets of the Divide. She might dump some water on the consoles for good measure. More importantly, I think she might finally realize that the unchanging family she clings to can only die out, or go down the same path that Elijah did.

ED-E: Given that ED-E is a robot, I think Ulysses would be hell-bent on finding whoever sent the little guy rather than consider that the eyebot saw a package with Enclave markings on it, picked it up of its own accord, and deposited it wherever it next encountered old American symbols. Through its communication with the other eyebots in the Divide, I think ED-E would get the picture about the courier's quest for the responsible party and play dumb for as long as possible. The other ED-E would help conceal the mistake to save its new friend, but Ulysses isn't stupid and would eventually figure it out. But how do you effectively punish a robot? Maybe he would set the nukes to target the Divide again, to send any remaining eyebots to the scrapyard for good, but it's a long shot. If he did, ED-E would cancel the launch, but would join its override system capabilities to its counterpart's and use the combined decryption power to ensure that both eyebots make it through the ordeal unharmed.

Rex: This good boy would never even consider entering the Divide. Seriously, what dog in their right mind would go in there? What cyberdog? No thank you. Still, the idea of a dog being responsible for the nukes and Ulysses continuing to hold a grudge is beyond funny. Maybe Rex was part of a mission for the Legion when he still belonged to Caesar, part of the group that leveled the Divide on behalf of the Bull. Maybe that's why Antony says he was "lost in battle," and maybe he's the only surviving member of that squad. I don't see why Ulysses would hang around the Divide waiting for the dog to look upon the hell he'd wrought, and he would more than likely seek the canine out himself as soon as he heard about the King's new pet. From there, the story turns into Courier Six investigating an assassination attempt on a goddamned dog, and the events of Lonesome Road play out pretty much the same way they were written - plus plenty of asides about how Ulysses is going to way too much effort over a creature that can't comprehend what nukes are.

Benny Gecko: Few people know that Yes Man was actually one of two securitrons that Benny managed to incapacitate and reprogram, and while the head of the Chairmen hid his favorite in the Tops for safekeeping, he sent the other out into the world for some recon and experimentation. Imagine his surprise when Yes Man was able to remotely hack into a nuclear missile silo and wipe out a budding trade community. And who would've thought that test run was going to come back to bite him in the ass, right after he was sprung from the Legion camp? I think Benny would do everything in his power to avoid entering the Divide, but I also think Ulysses would have little patience for him and would actively force the disgraced city boy into walking the Courier's Mile by blocking any other path out of the Mojave. Benny would form an attachment to ED-E, similar to Yes Man, but would complain the whole way and confront his tormenter with little remorse. He would also nuke both the NCR and the Legion if he came away alive, probably with some snarky one-liner about "letting the chips fall where they may."

Vulpes Inculta: Vulpes already has a few scorched-earth badges on his Pioneer Scouts belt (Nipton, Camp Searchlight, etc.), so eliminating the Divide is just another tactic in the grand strategy playing out between the Bull and the Bear. All he needed to do was leave a certain package in town, and the problem basically solved itself. Unfortunately, that deserter of his wasn't buried under the wreckage, and now Caesar has ordered him to assassinate the renegade. The fool keeps announcing his whereabouts every few hours or so, making tracking an easy task, but by the third time he feels eyes on the back of his neck and turns to find nothing there, Vulpes can't help but wonder whether the student has surpassed the teacher. The final showdown of Frumentarii would be something for the ages, a clash of philosophies and loyalties with plenty of verbal sparring between the bullets. If he survived the encounter with Ulysses, Vulpes would definitely nuke the NCR.

Ulysses: This cut companion can't very well face off against himself, can he? Unless... he was the courier who accidentally brought the Enclave detonator that sealed the Divide's doom. Given the weight of this grief, I think Ulysses would similarly force himself to walk the length of the Divide, take in the utter destruction that his own actions had wrought, and reflect on the meaning of one man changing the course of history. When it came down to the final room, the final decision, our disillusioned courier would activate the launch as a way of testing himself, testing his own resolve. Like Cass, he would stare at the machines shuddering to life around him until the very last moment, before shutting the system down for good, smiling under his breathing mask and walking away forever.

Victor: The robot cowboy doesn't really know what the angry man on the eyebot keeps talking about. He certainly doesn't remember delivering a package to a place called Hopeville or Ashton. Why would he? Mr. House is very good about covering his tracks, particularly when it comes to eliminating business rivals. Really, it could have been any old securitron. Nevertheless, Victor rolls merrily along in search of the courier who summoned his master, letting his own optics passively take in the devastated wasteland left behind by bombs that launched 200 years too late. Because of his robotic nature, I think it'd be a lot easier for Ulysses to get the drop on Victor and disable him at the temple, then wait until House sent another envoy or came himself. House would probably lose interest as soon as he got his data, which I don't think would stall Ulysses much: Once he figured out the Strip's owner isn't coming, he'd find some way to get inside the Lucky 38. If, however, Victor prevailed in the final struggle, he would nuke both the NCR and the Legion on behalf of Mr. House.

70 notes · View notes

muzanswifey · 2 years

Note

Oh I absolutely lied, I never told you the reason I needed you to fight people. And plz I promise you I’m not making this up my life is just fucking stupid bro

The current job I work at (lol my retail job not the teaching job) is the first retail job I’ve had. Last May I ended up giving my 2 weeks cause I got a new job that paid better — and just for funzies I’m going to put them on blast.

This new job offer for more money was at fucking Aldi’s. I accepted the job cause…money & it was in the same plaza I was already working. This was the start of the most miserable summer I’ve ever had.

I was treated like absolute dog shit bro. One manager in particular constantly picked on me, made me feel wildly uncomfortable and honestly stupid. The other manager?? The fucking old man store manager? Loved to hit on me and make things uncomfortably suggestive.

I was literally working 50 hours a week!!! Part time!!! On top of another job!!!! I’d be stuck closing with these two men ALONE and stuck there until fucking 1am when my shift ended at 9pm because the store “wasn’t to their satisfaction.”

Fast forward to august — I’d dealt with this job for about 3 months. March 13th of 2021 I had to put my baby to sleep. He was my first dog and my entire world. So having to put him to sleep was literally my worst nightmare & was fucking devastating for my mental health.

Naturally I text my manager and tell him I couldn’t close that night because of what was going on — I was a wreck.

And this man!! Fucking calls me!!! And tells me!!! “Your situation isn’t that serious that you can’t come in. You’re acting very unprofessional and I expect to see you at 2.”

I straight up told him that wasn’t happening. And he said “well someone already called out so I’ll be running the store alone if you don’t come in.”

So I’m in tears!!! On the fucking phone!!! And I lose it!!!

I called this man a fucking coward and piece of shit. Told him he was a bald headed ugly ass mother fucker and the next time I saw him I’d do him the favor of breaking his other hip. 🥴 I finished that rant off by telling him I quit and he can shove the store key i needed to return up his ass. (I still have the store key lmfao)

Now let’s skip to the reason I need you to fight. I got my old job back, they rehired me for higher pay back in September. And we just got a new manager 😀 guess where this new manager used to work!!! And guess who had the audacity to yell at me yesterday 😀😀😀

WAIT ITS THE SAME GUY U YELLED AT ON THE PHONE?!?!?!

9 notes · View notes

heyitsmerose · 3 years

Text

Ateez Reaction to their s/o calling them when they’re in danger (maknae line)

TW: Sensitive content and mentions of abuse

Word Count: 2.6k

Mature Language*

San: (creep at the beach)

(From the perspective on San’s Girlfriend - read pt.1 for Yunho’s girlfriend’s pov)

You and San were at the beach with the rest of Ateez and their girlfriends. It was a nice way to get away from their busy lifestyles as idols and for everyone to just have a day off. You and Yunho’s girlfriend were quite close and decided to go shell collecting together.

The rest of Ateez’s and Ateez girlfriends were taking pictures, building sand castles and having fun, while Yunho and his Mingi went to go get ice cream for everyone.

You were laughing and giggling with one another, collecting sea shells, and comparing one another’s like kids, until two tall men interrupted the both of you.

“Hey ladies! are you here at the beach to have a fun time?” One of them said. You, being the bubbly and friendly person that you were, decided to respond and make conversation.

“Yeah, we’re just collecting seashells” You smiled back at them

“with our boyfriends” Yunho’s girlfriend added

“Hey, it’s alright they’re just being nicee” You whispered back to her

“You never know” she just shrugged back

“Anyways, do you girls know where we can pick up some hot ladies” At this point, you looked a little uncomfortable. Who just comes up and asks you stuff like that?

“There’s a bar up ahead, hope you find what youre looking for, it was nice talking to you” Yunho’s girlfriend sternly said. You were glad to have a stricter mom friend like her, she was quick to take charge. She grabbed your arm and turned the opposite direction, and you gladly accepted.

“Hey, no, no wait up, we just want to talk” The other man grabbed her wrist.

“Let go of me” She sternly said. You tried prying his arm off of her wrist but to no avail. You were starting to get a little scared. It was surprising how she was able to keep her composure

“We need to go back now, let me go!” Yunho’s girlfriend yelled at him. At this point your eyes were watering. This was such an overwhelming and scary situation, not to mention, these men were way taller than you and could easily do anything they pleased. That thought gave you shivers.

The man holding Yunho’s girlfriends arm looked to his friend and his friend then looked at you. He walked closer, and you tried taking a step back. Before you could however, he gripped your chin and neck with one of his hands while the other was one your shoulder. You felt disgusted and at this point, the tears were already flowing out your eyes.

“Let go of me!” You yelled at him, trying to step back, only for his nails to further dig into your shoulder

“Let us go!” Yunho’s girlfriend yelled at the both of them. She then managed to kick and shove the one holding you onto the ground and you were free. You looked back at her with watery eyes, she just nodded at you and told you to call someone for help. Looking at the situation you both were in, you got more overwhelmed and fell to the ground with your phone in your hands fumbling on the dial pad, trying to call someone. You called Yunho, as you were scared for his girlfriend.

[Yunho-yah] You cried on the phone

[Hey, hey, hey, Y/n, what’s wrong]

[We were collecting seashells and these 2 men started talking to us and touching us, please come get us] you tried getting the words out

[What the hell!? both of you stay right there, me and San are coming to get you, don’t worry. Stay on the call with me okay, you’re going to be alright]

[Please hurry, they’re hurting her] You sobbed loudly scared for your friend.

You then looked up to see the one that was holding you before was walking towards you. You tried to stand up, but your legs would not cooperate. The man abruptly pulled you up by your waist as you tried to get out of his grip.

“Already falling for me, eh?” He said creepily

“No, please let me go” you tried saying as sternly as you could, only for it to come out as a bare whisper. He then proceeded to slip his hands under you white sundress, as you tried getting away.

“Don’t touch me please! Im begging you!” you tried reasoning, while sobbing loudly.

“Y/N!” you heard your boyfriend San’s voice and relief flooded in. Yunho kicked the guy holding you and then ran to his girlfriend. As soon as the man let go of you, you fell to the sand crying and sobbing. San crouched down to your level and took you in his arms, sitting you on his lap. You hid your face from him trying to look down, however he grabbed your cheeks and made you look at him. You were surprised to see tears in his eyes too, flowing freely.

“What the hell is wrong with those creeps” San yelled as Yunho and his girlfriend both felt bad for the situation you were in. This man had inappropriately touched you, and you were scared.

You were hyperventilating and flinched at his touch and San had never felt more devastated.

“Baby, follow me okay” He guided your hand to his chest to feel his breathing. Soon enough, you started taking longer breaths and were no longer hyperventilating.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t able to protect you” He said, voice cracking at the end

“It’s not your fault” you reassured him leaning into him further. The last thing you wanted was for him to blame himself.

For the rest of the afternoon, you noticed how two members had followed you at all times, and how San, specifically never let you out of his sight.

Mingi: (kidnapper)

You and Mingi had just started dating, it had been a few months and you were slowly falling more in love with him. None of you had said it yet though. You lived separately and took turns to go to each other’s houses. You always looked forward to your week, when you had to visit his house though. Upon reaching his house, it was like heaven, it smelled like him and you couldnt have asked for more. Today, it was your turn to go to his house and you were excited to say the least.

You quickly packed some gum, extra leggings, your phone and a charger with you. You plugged in your favourite song and began skipping down the streets carefree. It was around 4pm so you weren’t really too worried, however one thing that was weird was how empty the streets were. Shrugging it off, you began humming and walking to his house. It was a few blocks away, so you didn’t mind walking.

After a few turns, you came across an older man, supposedly in his 40s with a young kid. It was quite normal to bring your kids with you on walks around the neighbourhood, so again you just decided to not pay to much attention to it. As you reached closer however, you could hear them arguing over the music, while the older man tried pushing the kid in your direction. You looked away, trying to be less awkward in this situation. The little kid shook their head a few times at the man and he glared at her. She soon ran up to me and tapped your leg.

“Um, miss, I think you’re really pretty, here is a chocolate for you” The little kid gave you a chocolate and ran away back to the old man. He pat her head and they both turned away. You should realised how big of a red flag this was but, just shrugged it off and ate the chocolate. In a few minutes, you started feeling dizzy. Mingi’s house was still around 5 minutes away, so you just decided to call him to pick you up. You called him and he picked up after a few rings.

[Mingi-ah] You weakly said

[Hey Y/N? you usually never call me like this is everything alright?] he replied

[I don’t know I feel light headed, I’m about 5 minutes from your house, and I-] as soon as you said that you fell to the ground due to weakness.

[Y/N! I heard a thud are you alright?]

[No, I can’t get up, my legs and hands feel numb] you whispered

[Okay wait there I’m coming to get you]

[Okay] you whispered weakly, after which you closed your eyes and passed out.

[Y/N, stay on the call with me okay?] he called out to you

[Y/N?] He asked a little louder

[Y/N?!] He was frantic at this point, shuffling heard through the phone.

He tried reaching your location as quick as possible. When he did he noticed a strange man trying to carry you off the ground.

“Listen you bastard, let my girlfriend go!” Mingi yelled at the man pushing him off of you.

You were still out cold, unaware of what was going on around you.

When you wok up, you were in Mingi’s bed with a cold cloth on your head and water by your side. Mingi was also sitting on the bed just looking outside, not realising you had gotten up.

“Mingi-ah” You said weakly

“Oh my goodness, Y/N” he engulfed you in a tight hug not letting go of you

“I thought I lost you, I love you so much”

“I love you too Mingi”

Wooyoung: (break-in)

You and Wooyoung had just fought. It was some stupid reason, however both of you being the petty people you were, didn’t back down and it resulted in Wooyoung stomping out of your shared apartment. You stared at the door as he did, too paralysed to do anything. You had never had a fight this big before. You decided to cook dinner to hopefully cool off, eventually Wooyoung would come home right? You decided to cook dinner for the both of you.

You put something on the stove and left it to cook for a bit while going to the other room to set up the table. While setting the table up, you couldn’t help but regret what happened earlier, you felt guilty for letting escalate so far and let a few tears fall. As you kept setting up the table, you decided to check on the food cooking and once it was done you plated it nicely, adding a heart of sauce to Wooyoung’s plate, and simply sitting at the table waiting for him to come back. After a while, you got tired of waiting for him, and decided to just call him. You called him once, but he didn’t pick up the first time and so you tried calling him again, which he picked up.

[Y/N, I thought I told you not to call me] He said sighing

[I know but I made dinner, and I was just waiting for you to come home] you whispered out feeling guilty for bothering him.

[Alright then, I’m coming home, we can talk it out] he said, you were relieved and happy that you would be able to sort it out, but also nervous to face him again.

[Okay, Woo-] You were interrupted by a doorbell ringing, and you went to go check the door.

[Wait, Y/N who is that?] Wooyoung said

[Isn’t that you?] You asked him back.

[No it’s not. Check through the peephole]

[It’s a random man, do you have any friends coming over?]

[No, they’re all here, don’t open the doo-]

You both were interrupted by a noise on the door, banging. You gasped and spoke to Wooyoung again.

[Woo, I don’t know who that is, and I’m scared, please help]

[Stay on the call with me! Don’t hang up and lock yourself in our room, Don’t come out until I get home!]

[Wooyoung you can’t come home, what if they attack you or something?] You said voice breaking at the end, even the thought of Wooyoung getting hurt was so hard to think about.

[Y/N, are you crying?] He asked lovingly

[No] you replied whispering, not trusting your voice. Wooyoung video called you, and you covered your face.

[Baby, there’s no need to worry, I have Seonghwa and Yeosang with me too, now show me your beautiful face please, I’ve missed you] You looked up showing your tear stained face, gaining a gasp in return

[Why is my baby cryinggg] he whined over the phone. You giggled, and were quickly interrupted by police sirens, suggesting they called the police and were here to save you.

The second you saw Wooyoung outside, you ran out the house into his arms, jumping onto him, wrapping your hands around his neck, and legs around his waist.

“I missed you” you cried into his neck, “I was so scaredd”

“Aigoo, I promise I won’t ever leave you alone again alright? Now let’s go have dinner”

And that promise was definitely fulfilled as her tried to stay with you whenever he could acting clingier that usual fro the next few weeks.

Jongho: (creep at night)

You and Jongho had gone out for a late night stroll as you finally got time to spend with each other. Oftentimes, he was busy with the band, or couldn’t leave the house. At night like this however, you were both content. You were calmly strolling around a park when you decided you go pick a few flowers. Not going too far, you saw these blue and purple flowers that you quite liked and further ventured into the park to get them. Jongho was still on the bench of the park eating some ice cream you had gotten together.

You decided to to sit down and collect a few flowers so show your boyfriend you you made yourself comfortable and sat comfortably. After a while, you heard shuffling behind you and saw a strange man walking towards you. Warning bells ringing in your head, you tried standing up to walk away, only for the man to come up to you and hold you down your shoulder. He was squatting down, so you had to look up at him.

“Excuse me sir, I don’t know who you are or what you want, please let me go” You tried saying as nicely as you could. Despite this however, the man just grinned at you as he inched closer and closer.

“I like the innocent ones the most” He said sneering

At this point, you were scared as hell and were struggling to get out of his grip to no avail. You started breathing heavier and started getting worried, no one was around, what would this creep do?

“What do you want, ugh!” You tried squirming out of his grip, only to be shoved back to the ground.

“Don’t worry sweetheart, I’ll let you go after I’m done” He said wickedly. At this point you had had enough

“Jongho!! Help! Please help me!” You yelled as loud as you could. No response.

“Guess your little boyfriend over there, doesn’t mind either. Now where should we begin?” He asked trying to trail his hands towards your neck, only to get shoved to the ground by Jongho.

“You bitch!” Jongho yelled. Kicking him a few times as well.

“How dare you touch my girlfriend!”

Jongho picked you up and took you back home. Although you didn’t show love to each other physically too much, it was moments like this where you realised how in love you were with him. you were thankful to have such a protective boyfriend.

#ateez x reader #ateez #san #ateez san #ateez wooyoung #ateez mingi #ateez jongho #hongjoong #seonghwa #yunho #yeosang #ateez ff #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #ateez danger #ateez angst #ateez whump

188 notes · View notes

arcadejohn127-9 · 3 years

Note

Can you do a headcannon with the undateables now dateables please?? 😁 with an mc that wears a ton of make up and one day she doesn't cuz she forgot and they are like astounded by mcs looks and compliment them and tell them they don't need to wear so much cuz they are beautiful! Thank you!!!

I'm sure you didn't mean it for it to be like this, but this ask has a "I got stuff that's internalised" vibes and so I'm going to make this a teaching moment.

To Everyone who follows, wearing makeup or not is up to you - how much you wear is your bussiness. Besides, what is considered 'alot' could be a natural look depending on how many products you use.

I personally don't use foundation or concealer, my face is spotless and smooth and I incorporate my eyebags into my eye looks. But there's still the amount of eyeshadow I use as contour, actual eyeshadow, eyeliner guide and even to add more vibrance or odd colours to my lips. I also use eyeliner. Which doesn't seem like alot but its full face look.

Your makeup is your business and you shouldn't shame those who do wear it or those who don't nor should you rely on a man or woman to tell you when you look good. Your always look good, period. The trope of girls who stops wearing loads of makeup turns out to be naturally pretty just links to a mindset that people who do wear makeup only wear it because their ugly or trying to hide their true appearance.

Which is stupid because unless you're going out your way to do face morph looks, makeup is used to enhance features you already have. It just helps to bring attention to how pretty your features are.

"they don't need to wear so much because they're beautiful!" You don't stop being beautiful when you put makeup on. Again how much you wear and what you do with your appearance is your bussiness.

But I think that's enough of me going on, let's actually get into this.

Diavolo:

"ah, what a surprise, you're not wearing your makeup today, did something happen?"

He looked at your curiously

You dissmivley waved your hand, smiling

"Oh-! Yeah- I forgot to do it this morning and didn't want to run late for class, that's all."

"you look stunning might I add without it, it's a refreshing change - that sounded rude...I didn't mean for it come out like that."

He immediately looked guilty

Hand over his mouth realizing his words, he his lips pursed

It looked like he was internally beating himself up about it

You decided to be nice, patting his shoulder, seeing he didn't mean for it come out like that

"You're right, I am stunning but yeah, I get what you mean, it's new and I look good without it but I also good in it! It makes me feel good and lets me show off my favourite features."

You used your hands to shape and point out said features

Diavolo intently watched your hands but still had a guilty and apologetic expression

"I see, forgive my rudeness I never intended to imply anything, I'm glad you have something that makes you feel confident and happy."

"it's okay, Dia, perhaps I can do a look on you aswell? Show you the appeal."

Diavolo could be a child at heart and he almost squealed

He has been interested by your makeup ever since you've arrived

But instead of letting himself show his full excitement he nodded, grinning

He was aware of his butler's eyes on him aswell as Lucifer's

"I'd be delighted to."

Barbatos:

"I had a feeling I'd see a surprise today, it appears it was you, is there a reason you've decided to not do your usual look?"

"it sounds silly but just forgot, I was so tired this morning I'm pretty sure I dreamed doing my routine and couldn't tell the difference."

You laughed at yourself, gently scratching your cheek

You were embarassed by how easily tricked you were by your tired mind but you couldn't really blame yourself

You haven't been sleeping much so after finally getting the best sleep in your life you were bound to get groggy

He smiled, tilting his head to the side

His eyes looked as if he was scolding you

"thats abit alarming, get your needed sleep though the change isn't uninvited, you're very pretty."

You could tell he meant no harm by his words

But you've dealt with situations similar to this where the person was being very passive aggressive

It made you feel bitter and have a need to explain yourself

"I'll be sure to sleep, thanks but this isn't going to be a permanent thing, I'm very much happy with my usual look! Makes me feel more pretty~ I don't think there's such a thing as being too pretty."

You both chuckled at your end statement

"Fair, I do not control what you do but I advise you stop spending so much with asmodeus, you're starting to sound like him - I have actually done makeup myself, perhaps you'd like to see some examples? I'm intrigued if you have any feedback or tips I could use."

"asmo is just truthful! But on a serious note, I'd actually love to see that and feel honoured you'd want my feedback! You better not back out on this."

Solomon:

"I almost didn't recognize you, what a stray from your usual look, it's very off brand - I'm afraid viewers might be displeased."

You couldn't help but smile

He was using an inside joke you two made

After refering to one of the years as a season you two started making a few jokes about it

But it became a habit and now you two just had a thing were you pretended you were self aware TV characters

"Oh no! We can't have the ratings go down! Haha- I don't look that different, don't be ridiculous, I think it's just your eyes old man."

You poked the side of his face, near his eye

He frowned, he let you have passes on calling him old due to favouritism

But still got grumpy when you joked and brought him his age

You did only say it to tease and if he got genuinely upset or mad about it you'd immediately stop

"I'm not old, just wise - just for that your fanbase has shrunk but sadly, your good looks will bring them back."

You had a light blush on your cheeks, waving your hand

Acting as if you've swooned for him you leaned against his shoulder

"you're so kind yet so mean~ but I'm sure they'll prefer my normal form than this one, I kinda feel naked without my makeup - it's almost shameful."

"don't say that so loud, who knows who'll turn up naked, I'd rather not experience that today."

You bursted out laughing

Meanwhile he looked like he was experiencing Flashback'

Simeon:

"I like the new look, it's very natural! but is that makeup or your actual-"

"My face is bare, I forgot to put it on, not really bothered today."

His slender finger was pointed to your face, squinting to see if he could see

You almost wanted to laugh but you just lazily shrugged your shoulders

"oh! You're still look just as beautiful, I can't believe I couldn't tell, ever since I saw your more extra looks I've been looking into makeup and I saw people could make it look like they weren't wearing any."

"Thanks but don't worry, I'm not Insecure without it or anything, just really enjoy it! - oh? You're looking into it? Is there any looks you like specially, some people are really amazing at looking extremely natural or being really artistic - it's amazing."

He nodded

"pardon me then, I didn't mean to imply anything I just saw how much bad press was around it all and wanted to say incase but yes, I'm extremely intrigued by high light! It's so sparkly!"

He looked apologetic before his expression turned into one of awe and inspiration

You smiled, happy to see he was interested in something you were already passionate about

It was good to see him wanting to learn and gain interest

"You're sweet Simeon but this human is very happy! I see~ let me do your makeup later or a day you're free, I can give you my extra shimmery high light to really make those cheekbones of yours pop!"

His eyes were sparkling so brightly

Grinning from ear to ear with excitement

"I'd love to! Please, I want you to show me all your amazing ideas."

Luke:

"Your face is different, you're not wearing makeup!"

"And your face is still childlike, you're correct though, I forgot to do it."

You both pouted at each other, glaring

The moment quickly ended as soon as he started to speak

"oh, I thought this was going to be a thing now....you're pretty, why do you wear it? You don't need to especially the amount you normally wear."

You frowned

Annoyed no one has taught him about this kind of thing and how what he was saying was rude

Mentally noting to speak to Solomon and Simeon about this

But you couldn't be too mad, he was a child

You decided to make this a reaching moment for the young angel

"Well you see Luke, anyone can wear makeup even if they're super confident with their features or super Insecure, it makes people feel good and extra attractive or it can make you look dead and gross - really up to the person - and I'm just someone who really likes wearing makeup and alot of it, what may seem like alot to others could be basic to others, it's all about your personal touch and wants."

"I see....I'm sorry I didn't really understand-"

He looked absolutely devastated

Ashamed and guilty and extremely apologetic

"It's okay, I know you're still learning about these things - hey, how about I do your makeup and we can see what you like?"

You lifted his puffy hat, ruffling the messy hair beneath it

He didn't even swat your hand away

He was too excited and relieved by what you were saying, he jumped up and down as his hands turned into fists

"Really?! I'd- I'd like that, I'll go ask Simeon if you can come over and do it for me! Maybe we can try out your kind of style?"

"Sounds perfect, now go ask~"

He hastily rushed off to find the older demon

You watched from slight afar him asking permission but gave simeon a 'we need to talk' look

#obey me #obey me shall we date #gamingclubpresident #aracadejohn217 9 #obey me mc #obey me simeon #obey me solomon #obey me luke #obey me barbatos #obey me diavolo #obey me imagine #obey me headcanon #i do what you ask but also not

126 notes · View notes

writings-of-a-hufflepuff · 3 years

Text

Never Mess With a School Teacher

Fandom: The Mandalorian

Collection/Series: Western AU- Putting Down Roots

Pairing: Sheriff Din Djarin x Female Teacher Reader

Writer: @writings-of-a-hufflepuff aka @hufflepuffing-all-day-long

Rating: M

Warnings: Violence, oh my god, the violence. Also swearing, derogatory language. Threat of violence towards kids, but no actual violence, all violence is actually centred on the adults.

Summary: He curses himself for getting so complacent, soft, it shouldn’t be this hard to chase down a thief. The thief should never even have made it to the steps of the schoolhouse, let alone inside. Luckily for your kids, an angry school teacher is worse than a pissed off sheriff.

Notes: Someone said they wanted angst...well, I have delivered angst and fluff, hurt and comfort in one piece.

Archiveofourown

Generally speaking Din’s job as sheriff had been pretty quiet and tame. An easy job. Navarro did not get a lot of crime and generally speaking the only people in his cells were the few regulars at the saloon who always got a little bit too indulgent with their alcohol and then started fighting over whichever girl they’d both decided they wanted that night. He hadn’t dealt with a murder, rape or assault his whole time here. He hadn’t dealt with major crime, not even horse theft. His life had become relatively...domestic and safe, compared to his previous. He’d gone from hunting down some of the most dangerous criminals around to simply wrangling a couple of drunks on a night and the occasional robber who tried his hand at a petty crime.

He liked to think he was a competent sheriff, that part of the reason for the quiet was that he was just that good, the truth was in a small mining town nothing much happened. So he’d never had to worry, not about Grogu or about you or about the little ones you taught or any member of town. You were as safe as you could be. Navarro was probably one of the safest places around, it made his job as sheriff a damn sight easier that’s for sure.

“Osik! Kolar! Get over here!” Which is why he’s feeling a little more winded than he used to when he runs through the centre of town after a lousy thief waving a gun in one hand and a bag of stolen credits from the mayor’s office in the other. He can feel a stitch pulling in his side and his knees don’t feel like they used to.

He hasn’t had to run like this in a couple months, not since moving into town and perhaps he should have been going on daily runs because he’s feeling his age all of sudden. It shouldn’t be this hard to catch up to the guy, he’s not even that fast and he runs like a donkey’s shebs, all arms flailing about and no sense of his own centre of gravity. If he could just reach him then he’d be easy to tackle to the ground. Din was at least twice his size and even with that damn cattleman revolver being waved about he’d be easy to take on. But, of course Din’s getting old and of course he’s been complacent, not been working himself as hard as he should have been. Of course he feels like he’s about to bust a lung just from running for 5 minutes. He feels older than his years all of a sudden and can’t understand how he used to chance criminals down all the time with success.

He pushes his legs even harder when he realises the direction the thief is going in, “Haar’chak!” He hasn’t sworn this much in months, but he recognises the path towards the school and it’s the middle of the day. School is in session and he wants to just grab the guy before he causes more trouble. He has images of you standing at the front of class, radiant and warm, turning to fear as the man storms in. The thought makes him try harder.

“Get you’re fucking no good ass back here! Boy, don’t make me shoot you!” He’s reaching for his gun at about the same time as the schoolhouse comes into view and Din can feel all the blood draining from his face, fear gripping his heart tighter than any lasso at the thought that you’re in there, the little ones are in there and this di’kut is about to go storming in with a goddamn gun.

“I said don’t make me shoot you!” He’s got the gun out now, his trusty pistol, not his preferred rifle, but he’d left that in the sheriff’s office in a rush after hearing yelling and a commotion he wasn’t used to. He’s never leaving it behind again he decides, this has been a wake-up call, he’s gotten lazy, complacent, too soft. This town has damn near domesticated him. He needs to keep himself in shape and his wits about him if he wants to be a decent sheriff. Maybe he’ll telegram Cara, get her to come back him up as deputy or Paz, whichever wants the quiet town life more.

He hesitates because of his recent domestication, his increased softness of heart...because if he shoots he’ll put a bullet in your schoolhouse and he knows it could go straight through, could hit one of you inside. But, mostly because he knows how much you care about that damn schoolhouse and he can’t bring it in him to damage it knowing you’d be devastated. Paz would laugh at him if he saw him now, tell him he needed to pull his trousers up and get on with the job. He’s never been very good at that. He curses kicking a rock nearby as the thief runs straight through the schoolhouse door with you inside.

He’s panicking, he can feel it well in his chest, clutching at his throat and he’s not sure what to do. If he storms in it’ll be a mess, little kids and you, all at risk, but if he stays outside he can’t do a damned thing. He can’t begin to imagine how you’re feeling in there, probably panicking, the kids are probably scared, that’s soon confirmed by the terrified little screams he can hear. There’s a panic inside and it just swells his own until he feels like he’s choking.

“Come out! Leave them the hell alone, boy! Do not test me!” They’re empty words because he can’t do a damned thing, but if that thief lays a hand on any of you he isn’t going to bring him in warm, he’ll be in a jail cell, cold, waiting for the coroner to come and collect him. That he’s certain of, a single hair out of place, a single bruise or mark and that man won’t be breathing for much longer.

--------------------

“It’s a well known fact that we’re all acted upon by a force we call gravity! Now gravity-” The door to the school slams open with a supreme force that shocks you so hard that you jump from your place at the front of the class, chalk falling from your hand in a perfect demonstration of the force you’d been discussing. The children react in an instant, jumping from their feet then all clamour towards you like a stampede of panicked animals and it is all you can do in that moment to grab the yardstick you use in mathematics and occasionally in science and hide it behind you.

He’s wild looking, the man who storms into your school. Bulging big eyes roaming over the lot of you with a snarl, almost foaming at the mouth with aggressive energy, gun clenched tightly in one hand. He’s red in the face, huffing and puffing from running from god knows where. You can hear Din outside, he’s cursing and blinding, you can hear the panic, you can taste your own on the back of your tongue like a sour candy, like cough candy, the ones your father used to love and you used to hate so desperately.

“Now, sir, I-”

“Shut up!” It’s in this moment you realise that you cannot deescalate this situation, this man is like a wild dog, he is ready to bite at the slightest sound or provocation and the children are your main concern.

Panic gives way to anger, that bitter resolve, that feeling of indignation at this man’s brazen act. That he felt he could come into your domain, your space, that he could threaten you and your children. That he could point a gun in their direction. It’s the gun that angers you the most, it’s not pointed at you, like any sane person would do, it’s not pointed at the one adult in the room, but at Jerome who is shaking so hard you can hear his teeth clattering together. He’s barely a boy of fourteen, not a threat in the slightest.

You wait, wait as he takes steps closer and closer, drown out the sound of Din’s panic outside, drown out the sounds of your own children, the adrenaline making you feel like your skin is buzzing, like you’ve touched an electric circuit, but there’s no electricity in the schoolhouse at all. You’re shaking, that’s just how much energy is buzzing within you, you’re shaking like a leaf on a windy November day and you can’t physically contain it, stop it.

When he’s mere feet from you, you lift your chin defiant and angry, mouth opening in a tirade of angry words, as you rush forward in what you’re sure would be a stupid act if you weren’t so desperate for him to ignore the children and focus on you.

“How dare you come into my school and threaten my children!” It’s almost a scream, you’re so angry, so scared, that you don’t even think when you pull the yardstick from behind your back and swing with both hands for the hand holding the gun. It connects and for a moment he fumbles, you’re sure the gun will fall from his hands, but he catches it at the last second.

His hand comes up, “You bitch!” and clocks you across the face with the butt of his gun. One hit, hard enough for your ears to start ringing. You can feel blood drip from your lip which stings as it splits itself open, your teeth clatter together and by some miracle you stay on your feet, swaying back and forth. The children have begun to cry behind you and you can hear the sounds of roaring anger from outside. Din’s voice, clamouring louder than you’ve ever heard it.

“You lay a hand on her and you’ll wish you never came to this town!” It’s too late for that you think, he’s already laid that hand and if Din doesn’t get to him first you’re determined to deal your own blows.

The yardstick is ripped from your palms and you’re sure for a moment that he’ll simply throw it away, out of reach but he doesn’t. Whatever anger he is feeling boils over and the slab of wood hits you in the stomach, the ribs, the back. A hit to the face has your nose bleeding, your jaw feels like it might be broken and your only thought is ‘stay up, stay standing’. Your only relief is that the attention is on you now and not the children.

“Nar’sheb!” You spit it out, the pronunciation is awful, but the one insult that Din had taught you tumbles from your lips, hoping to keep his attention on you, hoping the provocation gives Din some time to think, to plan. Even, if you feel like he might actually kill you, like he’s capable of it.

“What the fuck did you just say to me?”

“I said shove it, you filthy nerfherder!” It’s enough of a push for him to grab you by the front of your blouse and pull you forward, one arm coming underneath your neck, hand gripping your jaw painfully tight, especially with how broken it already feels, no doubt his fingers are going to leave bruises, while the gun is pressed to your temple.

The fear comes back in full force this time as you hear the children crying louder at seeing you being abused, seeing a gun to your head. But you know you have to be strong because they are your children and you have to protect them, that’s your job, it’s your duty. So you’re almost relieved when he spits at you.

“Let’s go see that sheriff of yours, huh? He seems mighty concerned for you.” It relieves you because you’re beginning to move inch by inch towards the door and you know the older kids will take the younger ones out the back door, usher them quietly out of the schoolhouse and to somewhere safe. You can breathe easy because even if you die today those children are going to be safe, you’ll have done your job. The most important one. Keeping them safe.

He sees you first, you’re blinded by the light blinking at the midday sun, but, Din? He can see you clear and bright and he has never been so angry in all his life. Your lip is busted open, blood running down your chin, staining your white blouse, there are bruises over your jaw, your nose is leaking more red and he can see by the way you carry yourself that your ribs hurt. The thief’s dirty hands are on you, one clutching your jaw so tight that he can see the indentations his fingers make even from a distance away, the other holding that damn cattleman revolver to your head. It makes him want to beat the guy black and blue, forgoing guns, just give him his bare hands and he’ll ring the guy's neck. Just let him go absolutely feral on the man, let him tear him apart. Din clenches his hand tighter around his gun, the other tightening into a fist, he widens his stance. If it is to be a fight then that’s fine, so long as you’re not in the middle of it.

He looks scared. That’s the first thing you think when you see Din. He looks scared and angry, his gun is pointed but you know he won’t trust himself to shoot it, his brow furrowed, wet eyes, and teeth biting into his lip hard enough to bleed. He looks raging and scared and wild. This is a side of Din you have never seen, you are so used to the calm, the quiet, gentle Din. But, this Din doesn’t scare you, it fuels your fire again, that this man would make Din feel like that, that he would make this kind man scared and angry. You can feel that rage welling up, shaking you physically. He thinks you’re scared, you can tell by the laugh and little comment ‘oh don’t be scared now’, that he whispers into your ear, his breath hot against your skin, making you shy away in disgust. It crawls over your skin in a most unpleasant way.

“Now, Sheriff, i’m going to make you an offer that I wouldn’t refuse, not if you want this pretty little thing to come out in one piece that is.” That name angers you even more, how dare he condescend you, how dare he call you that, it’s worse than being called a bitch or a cunt or any other number of derogatory names.

You don’t even give him the chance to make his offer. You slam the pointed heel of your boot into his foot, hard as you can, before bringing an elbow back into his stomach and using what little you know about the centre of gravity to off balance him and shift him over your head and in front of you. The gun goes flying and your hands reach for the heavy metal pail you keep in front of the school house for collecting water, thanking God that you’d decided a cast iron one would do better than tin as you heft it over your head and across his face with a ringing smash and a crunch of bones.

You stand over him, chest heaving, “You come near my children again and I will kill you, do you hear me! I’ll show you what a pretty little thing like me can do, sir!” For good measure your swing the pail down again, the man groans and far from being disgusted with your show of violence, you feel better than you have all week at knowing the threat has been dealt with.

You look up breathing heavy, blood dripping from your lip to see the children had made it outside, watching you with wide eyes, almost as wide as Din’s, but not quite. The gun is slack in his hand and he is watching you with a heat you’ve never seen before, it makes you swallow hard.

Din’s sure he’s in love. That’s what he thinks it feels like as he watches you, your chest heaving in anger, your features twisted from their usual soft and delicate countenance. This is love, this feeling like you’ve reached into his chest and grabbed his heart in your bare hand. You are the picture of a mother bear protecting her cubs and that part of him that is deeply Mandalorian cries out for you, cries out to grab you and hold you close. You are in that moment more Mandalorian than he is, mandokarla in every sense of the word. You have the spirit of a true mandalorian, the spirit of a mother, strong, brave, prepared to do what needs to be done. Undefeated. The man beneath your feet groans and it spurs him to action.

Pulling handcuffs from the back of his belt, Din closes the gap between himself and the thief. He’s rough as he rolls the man onto his front, pulling his arms far behind his back and locking them together. He knows he’s rougher than he needs to be, but the man’s lucky. Lucky that he can’t bring himself to hurt him more with you stood there.

“You’re lucky I don’t put a bullet in your head right now, osi’kovid. I should kill you for what you’ve done.” He means it too, he wants to just do it, but he knows it’s not right. Not when the man is incapacitated, unable to defend himself. Not when the little ones are watching on, many of their parents having made their way through town at the sound of the disturbance, clutching at the little ones with relief and shock.

“Then why don’t you, big bad sheriff?” Din hauls him to his feet roughly, presses his mouth close to the thief’s ear not wanting the others to hear him.

“The only thing keeping you alive right now is the woman standing in front of you. If she wasn’t here I'd tear you limb from limb. You’re lucky she’s there.” He means it too. He won’t hurt him, not like this, because he knows you wouldn’t approve, because he knows no matter how angry you are you’d never be okay with him hurting an unarmed, handcuffed man. But, god if he isn’t close to snapping. All that panic has turned into anger, anger which he focuses on the man as he roughly drags him towards the cells.

You think you weren’t supposed to hear it, the threat, but you did and it is both scary to see him like this and a mite attractive. Your gentle sheriff is showing a harsher side than you’ve ever seen and it should shake you to your core, make you distance yourself, but it doesn’t. Did you not just show the exact same side of you? Did you not just consider beating the man to a pulp yourself? All because you loved your children, wanted them safe. You think this anger from Din is a reflection on how much he cares for you and the children, how scared he had been and it warms something inside of you. Your chest aches with a longing that you don’t understand as you watch him roughly walk the man away.

“Are you alright, Miss!” It’s Mr Hewitt, concerned for your welfare, but you just wave him off and make your way to the children, hand clutching at your ribs.

“I’m perfectly alright, Mr Hewitt, don’t you worry about me!” The children, for the most part are with their parents, all of whom have congregated after commotion drew their attention and word spread quickly through town. They’re crying into their mother’s skirts and their father’s trouser legs and it breaks your heart. They should never have had to witness or experience that, it should never have happened.

“Children!” Their heads snap up instantly, ever attentive to your teacher's voice; they watch you with focused eyes even while they hiccup and sniffle. “I think we’ve earned the rest of the day off, don’t you? Go home, rest, play and I shall see you bright and early tomorrow morning!”

Truth is you need to sit down. You can’t even begin to think about teaching right now. So sending them home seems your only option.

Parents smile at you, wish you well, tell you to look after yourself as they escort their children home. The only little one left is Grogu who runs towards you with panicked eyes, and despite the pain you kneel on the ground in front of him. The little one wraps his arms tight around your neck before pulling back, little hands patting over your cheeks and hair, as if imitating an adult checking your injuries. It brings tears to your eye because in that moment you’re reminded of what could have happened, what could have been lost. It’s not fear for your own life that has tears falling, but fear for him, for all the little ones and their youthful innocence.

“Cabur...cabur” It’s said to you, little hands framing your face, big brown eyes serious as he looks up at you. It isn’t a word you know, mando’a you are sure, and it’s not a word you’ve ever heard leave his lips before. A quiet child he had only recently begun to start talking and often in one or two words only.

That’s how Din finds the two of you. You’re kneeling in the dirt, skirt stained probably beyond repair, blouse bloody, face bruised and cut. Grogu is in your lap, your arms wrapped around his little chubby body, his hands cupping your face as he says it over and over again. ‘Cabur’. Guardian. Protector. It warms him from the inside out, that his ad, his son sees you as such, that his son cares about you so much and that you care about him just the same. He has no doubt that you were prepared to die for those children and it scares him and warms him in equal measure.

You hear his footfalls, dirt and gravel crunching under well worn boots, spurs clinking lightly as he comes to crouch next to you. Warm fingers reach out to gently graze your jaw, taking in the dark mottled bruising and deep swelling.

“What does it mean?” Wide eyes turn on him and he can’t help but smile softly at you, moustache twisting upwards at your curious nature, always so eager to learn, always wanting to engage more with the world around you.

“Protector, guardian, cabur’ika.” You wince slightly when he presses around your nose, checking to feel if it is broken. It’s not, but it will swell and bruise along with most of your face. The blood has stood spilling from it and that reassures him that it isn't too serious. It still hurts to see you like this, to see you hurt in any way.

“Ika?”

“Little.” He can already see your brows furrowing, lips setting into an offended scowl as you glare up at him. At the diminutive suffix, not fully understanding the nuances of mando’a yet.

“Little!”

He laughs at your offence, not because it’s funny because it does not mean what you think it means, “It’s a...a familiar term. It’s not because you’re little.” He hopes he makes sense. He doesn't call you a little protector to make fun of you or tease you, but because it shows familiarity, closeness. You are becoming part of his clan without realising it and the familiarity feels good to show. Just as when he calls Grogu, Gro’ika.

“Oh.” The annoyance metals from your features as quickly as it came and he continues his prodding of your skin, carefully assessing your injuries. Your jaw isn’t broken, he tells you, but it is badly bruised and he tells you to talk less in class, although he gives you a look that says he understands that is unlikely to happen. A gentle finger pulls your lower lip from between your teeth, you hiss, but he’s gentle as can be when looking at the split lip. Badly split and still bleeding red over your chin and blouse.

Din rises to his feet, offering you a hand, “Let’s get you clean up, cabur’ika”. He helps you stand, Grogu letting go and sliding from your lap to instead hold your skirt hem as the three of you walk.

Din wraps a strong arm around your waist to help you walk, your pace is slow, careful and it takes longer than it really should to get across town to your small house. It’s not much, just 2 rooms; the main living area with your kitchen, wash basin, tub and a bedroom separated from the rest. But it is home. Cosy, he thinks, like you. It screams home, lived in, a place to live, not just rest your head.

He eases you onto your settee, propping up pillows behind your back as he urges you to lay down. He even plumps a few in his hands like a mother hen, clucking around you as he unlaces your boots and gently pulls them off to make you more comfortable, grabbing a throw and tucking it around you. He’s filling a washbowl with water from your tap, the one luxury you have, being a plumbed-in kitchen sink.

“Din...you don’t have to do this.” He should be dealing with paperwork, probably writing a telegraph for someone from a local prison to come and collect the man currently in the jailhouse. He shouldn’t be here with you, he has better things to do.

“Yes. I do. Someone needs to look after you, cabur’ika.” You watch him grab salt from the side mixing it in with the water, just enough to help keep your wounds clean. Watch him decide which cloth on your countertop is the best to use. He feels the fabrics, which is too abrasive, which is softest, gentlest, before deciding on one and dropping it into the washbowl.

Grogu is sat by your fireplace watching as his buir shifts you slightly so he can sit on the edge of the settee, washbowl placed on the ground. His fingers are gentle as they rest underneath your chin and urge you to look up at him, calloused but soft on your skin, careful of any pressure that might hurt you.

The salt water stings, but the cloth is soft and he hushes you quietly at every hiss or groan of discomfort you make. Carefully cleaning your wounds, wiping the dirt, sweat and blood from your skin.

“It’s okay, Cyar’ika. I’m sorry….i’m sorry.” It’s more than just a sorry for the temporary pain of cleaning your wounds, it’s more than just sorry that I am causing your wounds to sting. There is a deep pain in his voice that strikes you to your core and you shift, hands wrapping around his wrist as you sit yourself up despite the pain in your ribs.

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for, Din. Listen to me,” you tug on the wrist, pull it towards you and hold him to your chest, urge him to look you in the eye. You can feel the guilt rolling off of him in waves, “You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s not your fault.”

“You wouldn’t be like this if I was better at my job...I got complacent, lazy, I should have been able to catch him before he even got near the schoolhouse! You shouldn’t have ever been put in that position, you and the little ones…” It’s the break in his voice, the tears welling in deep brown eyes that has you wrapping your arms around his head and pulling him to rest his cheek on your chest. Rubbing circles in the back of his neck, twisting dark curls between your fingers.

“You did everything you could. You are not at fault and I will not have you blame yourself for something you had no control over. You are a good sheriff, Din. You are so good. Please don’t blame yourself for this, darling.” You scratch careful circles into his scalp with your nails, rub soothing lines over his neck and under his jaw, whisper gentle reminders that he is the best thing to happen to this town. That he provided you with a school. That he has made this town safe. That he is not at fault for this. But, you know, deep inside you that he will carry this moment with him, that he will not forget what happened and what could have happened. This guilt will weigh heavily on him, and will follow him.

“You could have been killed. The little ones could have been hurt.” He has always been a man of emotions, quiet emotions, but emotions nonetheless. You’d known from the start that he had a protective streak, that that extended especially towards children. That the mandalorian in him, his upbringing, urged him to keep them safe as much as your own duties did.

“But they weren’t. Keeping them safe is my job, Din. Don’t add it to your worries.” But, they weren’t his responsibility. When they were in your schoolhouse they were yours. The last thing you wanted was him to take that responsibility onto his shoulders when he already had so much, that guilt. It was your responsibility to protect them and while scared and shocked, none of them had a hair out of place or a scratch on them. They were okay.

“You could have died, cabur’ika. You could have died.”

“I know. I know,” It hits you. Like being trampled under horse hooves and the wheels of a carriage, like the yardstick to your ribs, full force and winding as you finally understand. You could have died. You could have died.

It is your turn to cry as your breathing becomes uneven and your mind tries to make sense of the fact you nearly died today, just doing your job, just in your schoolhouse. That there is so much you have not achieved, so little you’ve seen or done and you could have lost the chance to ever do. “Din…” You’re clutching at him, fingers digging in his back as he pulls you tighter to him.

There is a moment where he worries that you cannot breathe, that the force of your tears will choke you in his arms and so he holds you tighter, barricades you in his arms. Walls shielding you from the world. He brings a hand to the base of your neck cupping it to tilt your head up as he presses his forehead to your own. A comforting gesture, a keldabe kiss, he wants you to feel safe again. Wants to impress upon you your importance in his life even if he is not ready to say it yet.

He can feel your breath evening out with the gesture, your lungs relaxing as his presence comforts you. It pleases him to know he can calm you. He is the only thing present in that moment, not what happened, not the wild eyes of your assailant, not the fear, not the kids, not the room around you. Just him. His warm forehead pressed into yours, gentle, but firm enough to ground you. Large hand cupping the back of your neck, the other arm wrapped entirely around you to keep you close.

It is a little movement behind your back and two small arms wrapping around your back, unable to truly wrap around you fully that bring you back into the present.

It’s a little voice saying ‘Cabur’ into the fabric of your blouse, little hands gripping at you, trying to soothe you that makes your heart ache in an entirely different way. You pull back from Din, enough so that you can reach around you and pull Grogu into your lap, between the two of you, shielded by you both. It should scare you, how it feels like you have your entire world on your settee, how it feels like family. It should scare you what you would do for Din, for Grogu. What you would do to keep them safe, happy, healthy. Instead it warms you, to know that you’ve found somewhere to belong that isn’t just a schoolhouse and a classroom.

“It’s okay, Ad’ika. I’m okay. I promise.” You run a hand through his dark curls, boop him on the nose to make him smile and feel a true smile creeping on your face even if it hurts. You’re not lying either. You’re okay. You will be okay. With this little child who cares for you deeply, with his father who is always there to look after you, you know you are okay and will be okay.

“Ori'haat,” Din says to you, lifting your eyes back to him and the soft little smile playing at the corners of his mouth, “I swear. You said you wanted to learn more.”

“Or-e-haht?” You are back to your little game. The one where he tells you a new word and you try to pronounce it, but the unfamiliar words twist wrong in your mouth, coming out butchered to his amusement. He enjoys it, you know he does. It is easy to see because his eyes always twinkle with humour and his face softens, some of the harsh lines fading away.

“Oh-ree-haht.”

“Oh-e-haht?” You always concentrate hard and it is this fact that makes your mispronunciations cute, copikla, rather than frustrating. He does not mind you making mistakes because you try earnestly to correct them and always practice the words till you have it right. He enjoys teaching you because he enjoys hearing his language from another person, enjoys the familiarity, the homeliness of it.

“Oh-ree-haht!” This time it’s Grogu who announciates it, loud and clear with a little grin on his sweet little face as he looks between you and his buir as if waiting for praise.

“Very good, Gro’ika,” Din ruffles the boy’s curls before turning his eyes back to you. The boy preens under the praise, little grin growing in size as he sits between the two you. How he always manages to get it right on the first try you don’t know, you’re a little envious of the boy's knack for seemingly everything. He is a quick learner in school and out of it.

“Oh-ree-haht?”

“Jate, good.” You smile proud of your efforts and shift a little in your seat, ribs pulling and causing you to let out a pained breath. It's going to be sometime you think before you are fully back to how you were, without pain or bruises. You have yet to look in a mirror but are sure that you look terrible.

“Would you like to stay for dinner?” You extend the invitation, knowing you don’t want either of them to go just yet, even though Din probably has things he needs to do and it is selfish to ask him to stay when he has his duties to get on with.

“You’re not making dinner, cyar’ika. I’ll make it.” He untangles himself from you, grabbing the washbowl to empty in your garden. The view of you with his son cuddled up to you makes his heart warm, even with the mottled bruising and cuts across your features.

“Din…”

“I will not argue about this with you, i’m taking care of you and you will rest, cabur’ika.” His tone brooks no argument, demanding for the first time, truly, that you listen and do not fight him on this. You should be resting, not standing cooking dinner. You are in too much pain and he would sooner tie you to your bed then let you hurt yourself in an effort to be the hostess.

With a heavy sigh, you conceded defeat. “Okay, but I’m not happy about it, Din Djarin.”

“I know.” He says with a smile.

--------------------

Mando’a Translations:

Nar'sheb - contemptuous comment, like saying shove it.

K'olar! - get over here!

Cabur - guardian, protector

Cabur’ika - lit. little guardian/protector, but the ika shows familiarity, making this more of a pet name, friendly term.

Haar’chak - damn it

Shebs - butt, ass.

Di’kut - idiot.

Mandokarla - having the *right stuff*, showing guts and spirit, the state of being the epitome of Mando virtue

Osi’kovid - shithead

Ori'haat - I swear

Cyar’ika - sweetheart, darling

Jate - good

Copikla - charming, cute, typically not used for women, but for animals and children. But honestly, I think the reader wouldn’t be offended like a typical mandalorian might by being called copikla.

Ad’ika - Little one.

#din djarin x reader #din djarin / reader #din djarin #the mandalorian #the mandalorian reader insert #reader insert #readerinsert #western au #putting down roots #din djarinxreader #din djarin/reader #female reader #female identifying reader

182 notes · View notes

jeonqqin · 4 years

Text

man up. [m] | pt. 5

h. jisung x reader | netflix rom-com au

— ❝Even with classes, annoying brothers, and an unrequited crush, you still figured your first year of college was going pretty well. Until you managed to get your first boyfriend, and suddenly your brother and his stupidly attractive best friend were attached to your hip for the whole damn ride.

or alternatively;

Why did Jisung care about you so much, and had his eyes always been that pretty?❞

WORD COUNT: 4.7k

CONTAINS: brothers best friend au, teen rom-com au, sorta crack fic, love triangle au, college au

WARNING: future smut, language, very brief mention of past child abuse (they were pushed and got hurt), panic attack

a/n: I have no idea how this chapter got this real? THIS IS SUPPOSED TO BE A STUPID SILLY FIC

▸ request

CHAPTERS: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 +

blog masterlist | ⟲ fic song

—UNEDITED

“Just fucking leave me alone Jisung.”

“Hyunae, hold on—”

Jisung sighed, his palm rubbing harshly into his eye to soothe the sting of oncoming tears.

He was both devastated and relieved after his night with Hyunae. Granted, he hadn’t gotten any sleep whatsoever last night, but it was done, he really did it. Minho said he didn’t have the balls, but he fucking did, so fuck Minho.

“No! Just… get out.”

But there was the other side of his mind that was screaming at him for ruining a relationship that he put so much time into. It kept asking him why. Why did he do it? What pushed him to end it?

The true answer stared him in the face, but just as he had done for his whole like, he denied it.

“I knew this was going to happen anyway. I was just waiting for you to open your fucking eyes, Jisung.”

It had nothing to do with you. Why would it?

There was no romantic feeling between you and him, none at all. So there would be no reason for him to break up with his girlfriend on your accord. But he couldn’t ignore the way you ran out of the diner, and how terrified he had been all night with the absence of you. You hadn’t called him or Felix to let them know that you were fine, so of course he was worried, pacing back and forth around his girlfriend’s dorm until she snapped at him. It was possibly the worst timing for them to get into a fight, but it was also an opportunity for Jisung to just say it.

He wanted to break up.

He wouldn’t be quieted or controlled anymore.

He was no longer going to listen to her bicker with his friends over the smallest things.

Jisung had officially grown a backbone.

And that had nothing to do with the comment Hyunae made after you left. A comment that she had no place to make. She was the one in the wrong that night, but he was the one being scolded and cursed at. It was always him that was at fault in the end, no matter what happened or how it happened. It was always stupid Han Jisung.

Stupid stupid Han Jisung.

To say that his dormmate was surprised to see him after months of never sleeping in his assigned bed would’ve been an understatement. But thankfully Haechan didn’t ask any questions about why Jisung’s eyes were puffy or what he was doing showing up so late at night. Jisung respected that about the normally eccentric boy.

That night he hadn’t been plagued with nightmares of his now ex-girlfriend, but a memory of his childhood, leaving his chest feeling heavy the next morning. He remembered how scorching hot the summer sun was on the back of his neck as he sat idle on the steps of his best friend’s house. He could hear the screaming and yelling of Minho’s cracking voice, another—deeper—baritone booming over it. Jisung has always wondered how Minho could be so brazen, staring into the eyes of every new man that walked into his house.

Minho never really talked about it, but Jisung had picked up enough over the years to know that your dad was no longer in the picture, and that caused some conflicts between Minho and the men that he thought was trying to fill that position. Jisung never met your father, as he was barely six years old and hadn’t yet met Minho, but he grew to learn how much Minho idolized the absent man.

Jisung remembered the loud thud before the crash of something breaking. He also remembered the way his neck heated and legs trembled. But he would do as promised and wait for his friend to walk out the door so they could hop on their bikes and just get away. Minho always asked Jisung to wait for him while he planned a confrontation.

It was taking longer than usual.

Jisung met Lee Minho when he was eight years old, during an attempt to catch frogs in a small pond in the neighborhood. His family had just moved into the area and Jisung was too shy to really approach any of the children in the houses around him so he opted to play on his own. His brother was too old to play with him, and he honestly didn’t mind.

He got used to it and learned to entertain himself.

Minho approached all high and mighty, asking why Jisung was trying to catch the frogs in his special frog hunting spot, but was cut short by the smaller boy apologizing profusely and stumbling over his feet to stand. Only to find himself landing on his ass and soaking his green cargo shorts in mud. Minho had barked a laugh, his mouth opening to say something, but slamming closed as a frog jumped up and collided with Jisung’s cheek, nearly scaring the life out of the already petrified boy. Minho had then jumped into the pond with giggles falling out of his lips as Jisung laughed alongside him despite the tears falling down his face.

The night ended with your mother peeling leeches from both of the crying boys, and you making them a poorly executed cup of hot (lukewarm at best) chocolate to get rid of the sting.

Why you thought that was going to help—Jisung didn’t know.

Though, Minho still drank it in one breath and thanked you for making the pain go away with uneven sniffs. That was the first moment Jisung witnessed Minho suppress his feelings on your accord, and it certainly hadn’t been the last. Jisung didn’t blame his new friend at the time though, since he found himself eager to gulp down the drink to witness the same toothy smile you sent to your brother—but only directed at him.

It was worth the small stomach ache.

“Don’t touch him! Don’t you fucking dare touch my son.”

The voice or your mother rang clear as a bell in Jisung’s head, the usual calming tone was missing and urgency was all he could hear at that moment. The air only read “get away” as he continued to listen carefully to what was happening behind the closed door. He had listened to many fights, but even after knowing Minho for three whole years none of them had escalated beyond shouting.

Jisung’s instincts tried to kick him into gear, but he still sat there, his loyalty outweighing his better judgement.

The argument shifted between your mother and the man, Minho’s voice suddenly eerily absent. Jisung felt his heart pulse for his friend, his mind wandering to only the worst scenarios and his eyes welling up with irritating tears. But his gaze stayed unwavering, locked on the swaying tire swing he and Minho had put up themselves earlier that summer.

The door swung open, letting the voices be heard clear from the kitchen. Jisung’s head swung around carefully to watch as Minho rushed outside, his face bright red, almost unnaturally so. He left the door open, not even bothering to close it behind him.

“—he tripped. I didn’t know he was going to fall, honey. I’m sorry—”

“If you ever lay another hand on my child, you will never see the light of day again.” Your mother’s voice threatened, plaguing Jisung’s young mind.

“I would never purposefully hurt Minho—”

Jisung had shut the door, turning on his heel to follow his friend.

Minho had been fuming. His cheeks red—though one more red than the other, but Jisung wouldn’t once ask about it—and drenched with fresh tears, his hand furiously whipping it all away.

Jisung watched as Minho punched and kicked at the trees and flower beds in the backyard, making a mess of the once tidy space. But he just let his friend go, not saying one word to the boy. Jisung knew that he would be acting like a baby in Minho’s situation and was baffled by his friend’s strength. Minho was Jisung’s hero back then, and he sometimes missed that feeling when he took the time to reminisce.

It was only when Minho was somewhat calmed down, that you walked out to check on your brother. Your eyes were rimmed with red and your hands fisted the fabric of your shirt.

Every fight, you were always there to catch it all; a bystander like Jisung.

And despite his state—a steadily swelling cheek and a darkening welt on his forehead—Minho still pulled you into his arms to comfort your hiccuping form. He denied every worry and question that fell from your wobbly lips, and Jisung had a sense of dejavu each time.

It had been a rinse and repeat process for years; Minho would cause trouble and get into fights, and he would console you each and every time you showed any worry.

Neither you or Minho spoke about it, but Jisung knew that it was only Minho’s way of trying to protect you. With your dad gone, Minho moved to fill that gap, just trying too hard without a complete understanding of the line he shouldn’t cross.

Jisung had no idea why he had that dream, but the heavy weight in his chest began to push him in wanting to see Minho.

You couldn’t tell if you were having a good morning or not.

The date with Chan had gone incredibly well, that was for sure. He was sweet, such a gentleman, and the time you spent with him wasn’t at all boring by any means. He was absolutely perfect.

So why were you panicking?

Of course, there was the initial fear when you woke up in the morning to see that your little make out in his car wasn’t so little after all, and that your neck looked as if someone had tried to maul you. And the more makeup you piled over it barely made a difference, so the fact that you told Chan that you would go over to the apartment in the morning so he could show you the track he had put so much effort into, wasn’t exactly as exciting as it had been last night.

At the apartment you could run into Minho—or Jisung.

God, you completely forgot about Jisung.

You hadn’t seen him in a few days for classes, the small break in your school schedule being a true blessing, and you suddenly felt guilt crawl up into your chest. The situation with Hyunae wasn’t necessarily his fault, and you realized that after a few days to yourself. They were dating, of course they were going to act like a couple. You were simply being a big baby about a bit of PDA.

He had a girlfriend.

Right, why were you so worried about a few hickies when he had a girlfriend?

Why were you even bringing up that fact that he had a girlfriend when that didn’t even matter?

Why were you still so terrified that you had visible evidence of Chan’s lips on your neck when Jisung wasn’t in love with you and you weren’t in love with Jisung?

Why did you feel so guilty?

Staring at the purple marks on your neck had your mind flickering back to the moment when you first saw Jisung with the same little round spots on his own collar. Back in your first years of secondary school when Jisung basically lived at your house, him and Minho stopped paying much attention to you. It was a phase in your brother's life where he was getting into too many fights with his peers, and spending less time with you. And when you were that age you were pretty butt-hurt about it.

Jisung and Minho had just returned back from a party, one that you hadn’t received an invitation to—not that Minho would allow you to go anyway—and they trampled up the stairs at two in the morning without a care in the world or a second thought about you nor your mother that were trying to sleep. How your mom managed to stay sleeping that night was beyond you.

And with your brother’s room right next door to yours, it was impossible to get back to sleep, their loud excitement too much for the thin wall between you to block out. So, you peeled your covers off your body and stomped into their room to give them a deadly glare and a good smack to the backs of their heads.

Grumpily, Minho apologized and promised to be quieter, but Jisung simply smirked and tugged you down onto his lap to coo at how cute your puffy and tired face was. It was around the same time of your life when Jisung learned to push back his anxieties and began gaining self confidence, since that was something he desperately lacked when he was younger. But with confidence came the flirting.

He chalked it up to “sibling like teasing” but you couldn’t deny the massive crush you had on the boy back then. So the feeling of his skinny arms wrapping tightly around you and his (then blonde) fringe ticking your cheeks, was almost too much for your poor heart to take.

And then you saw the red spots lining his neck and momentarily froze, confusion haunting your train of thought and throwing you for a loop. You weren’t stupid, you knew exactly what those were, but for some reason, it didn’t occur to you that Jisung would ever get them.

But there they were and it had definitely punched a small hole in your heart that night.

You were all adults now though, surely they knew that you were bound to grow up sooner or later. It would be ridiculous if they decided to throw a fit now, right? You were in college for god sake, you were allowed to have a boyfriend.

Or—a Chan. Whatever you and Chan were, you were allowed to have it dammit.

So why was your hand shaking as it lifted to grab the door knob?

Amongst your inner turmoil you hadn’t heard the heavy step of Jisung walking up the stairs. He was so exhausted that he hadn’t even noticed you until he was scaling the last few steps of the three story apartment complex. He paused for a moment as he watched you hesitate at the door, your eyes glued down on your hand.

A sudden wave of so many emotions rushed through him at the sight of you in a baggy sweater that fell around your thighs, the black spandex of your shorts peeking out from underneath. Even from behind, Jisung could tell that you were tired, your hair all messy and cute. His heart swelled in his chest.

Of course you would be the one to dissolve all of his stress. He should’ve known.

With a deep sigh, Jisung felt himself smile. He ascended the last few steps and sidled up behind you, eyes heavy from lack of sleep. You still had yet to notice his presence, and that had him chuckling under his breath. Your obliviousness was going to get you killed.

Jisung slid his arms around your waist, only feeling you flinch for a second before you were relaxing back into his chest. He didn’t have room for any confusion, as he was too elated to actually hold you again. He couldn’t remember the last time he could just walk up to you and grab you without there being a fuss. Jisung missed you.

Jisung took the opportunity to lean his jaw against your shoulder and tuck his face into the fabric of your sweater, only holding you closer. Your body wash had always been his favorite, not too intense that it had him nauseous, but sweet and soft enough to tempt him into placing a line of gentle pecks along the expanse of your skin—

That settled it, the break up was officially driving him insane.

With a sigh and a curt laugh, you closed your eyes and leaned your head to the other side. Jisung’s eyes widened for those few moments when the invitation was right there in front of him, and some sick part of him wanted to scatter marks over the soft plane of your skin. In his daze, he wondered what kind of noises you would make if he bit down and made a mess of your pretty collar; if you would beg and whine or release little breathless gasps. He was right there—so damn close.

His tongue ran along his bottom lip at the thought.

What was happening to him?

“I’m sorry for just standing out here. I must look crazy.” You breathed, hands wrapping around his forearms.

Jisung huffed a laugh, nudging your shoulder with his chin, just enough to shift your sweater off to the side. “No, you—”

Both of you froze at the same moment—complete different reasons why.

The warm body behind you wasn’t Chan.

Your mind was screaming at you to get away, telling you that you shouldn’t feel so comfortable with Han Jisung pressed intimately against your back. With his hands gripping your waist and chin resting on your shoulder where some other man's lips had kissed you, where Chan had—

Jisung saw the angry purple bruises before he could process the rest of what he wanted to say. They had been hidden behind the strategic collar of your sweater, and he suddenly felt a wave of an emotion that hadn’t risen to the surface for years climb up into his chest.

He quickly unraveled himself from you, face flushing red as he took multiple steps backwards, his back colliding harshly against the door of the apartment across from Minho’s. Jisung couldn’t care less about the sudden pain that rocketed up his spine, his attention locked onto the massacre on your clavicle.

Speechless, Jisung could feel his chest tightening and breathing quicken within his ribcage. Everything was so much worse than it had been before. At least he had a form of relief from breaking things off with Hyunae, now all he could feel was the crippling weight of your eyes on him. He felt completely exposed and dejected.

He couldn’t breathe.

“Ji—” You attempted to lean forward and grab his arm, brows pulled into a worried frown.

He felt stupid.

“I—shit. I’m sorry,” he whispered, shrinking away from your reaching hand and hurrying past you to shove his extra key into the lock, twisting it open faster than he had ever done in his life. It was a miracle that he could even get the key into the hole with how badly his hands were shaking.

Stupid stupid Jisung.

Jisung barely registered the confused concern that flashed across Changbin’s face as he sped past him, his sights set solely on the last room on the left. Slamming the door behind him, Jisung couldn’t help but feel like he was dying, his chest aching and body suddenly warm.

“Sung?” A groggy Minho lifted from under his sheets, his chest bare and bedhead wild. “What the hell?”

“I’m so stupid,” Jisung rasped, tugging at the collar of his shirt and collapsing back against Minho’s desk chair. “What the hell is wrong with me?”

“What happened?”

But Jisung could barely hear anything over the sound of his heart beating, the echoing drum in his skull.

Minho frowned, lifting from his bed and pulling a shirt over his head in order to cross over to his best friend. Jisung looked absolutely exhausted, heavy-lidded eyes staring out at nothing as his hands raked through his gelled hair, ruining the style he had probably spent his whole morning on.

It had been years since Minho had seen Jisung in such a state. There had been brief moments where Jisung got uncomfortable going to crowded parties or big lectures, but there was nothing small about how he was acting now.

A brief memory of a crying boy covered in mud and soaked to the bone flashed through his head.

Minho sighed, rubbing a palm over his face as he took a seat on the floor beside the desk chair that Jisung had claimed. Minho’s hand moved up to pat Jisung’s knee, “Well, Sung… Let’s get over this bitch together, okay?”

You felt your face pale as you took a slow step into the apartment, closing the door behind you. The look of fear that Jisung sent you was heartbreaking, his eyes wide and jaw clenched so hard that you knew for sure that it had to hurt.

“The hell happened out there?” Changbin asked, tone stern but confused.

You cringed, feeling your face heat up.

“He…” You debated telling him—perhaps he already knew? Either way, it wasn’t your place to say anything. The last thing you wanted was to get even further on Jisung’s bad side.

What did you even do to set him off?

“He what, Y/n? What happened?” Changbin placed down the cook utensil that had been gripped tightly in his fist.

It felt weird to see Changbin distressed, as he was usually the calm during the storm, keeping a level head even when things took a turn for the worst. But you figured you’d be the same way if you just saw one of your best friends in such a state and not have any prior knowledge of the situation.

“He started freaking out,” you finally said, voice low. “I’m sure he’ll be okay.”

But you really weren’t sure, and it was easy to tell that Changbin didn’t believe you.

“Are you sure you want to leave it at that, Y/n?”

Your lip wobbled for a quick second as your eyes locked on something off to your right. It was difficult to sit still under the heavy gaze of Changbin, but really, there was nothing else you could say. You wouldn’t tell him anything that could reveal too much, and if that meant you would have to endure his interrogation with sealed lips, then that was what you had to do.

You nodded slowly, “Mhm.”

Changbin’s eyebrows rose in shock, his arms moving to cross over his chest. “Seriously? You’re not going to tell me why Jisung just ran in here breathing like he was in fucking labor?”

You nodded again, more sure than the last time.

“He’s with Minho. He’ll be fine.”

“You’re just going to be super cryptic and annoying then.” Changbin said, frustration clear on his face. “No explanation at all.”

“Sorry.”

He looked at you as if he didn’t believe you, but you honestly were. You knew how shitty it felt to have people you care about hide things from you, since you went through a whole phase of it with Minho—hell, he still hid shit from you half the time. But if anyone was going to tell Changbin what was going on, it was going to be Jisung.

Because there was no way in hell that you were going to break all rules of trust and tell someone that Jisung suffered from panic attacks.

Granted, he used to get them all the time when he was young, therefore they were less of a secret and more of a “who possibly didn’t know?” type of deal. A lot of things set him off, and the fact that his parents completely uprooted their lives every two years didn’t help. Thankfully, they had gotten the hint and decided to hold off on moving until Jisung was out of school and ready to go off on his own.

But it had been a long time since you witnessed one so bad, and you didn’t want to share that secret with anyone. You knew Changbin was one of the most trustworthy people you knew, but it wasn’t your news to spread.

Changbin’s eyes scanned your form for a moment, his gaze only pausing on your neck for a fraction of a second, and if you hadn’t known what he was looking at, you wouldn’t have noticed anything different.

“Fine.” He said, spinning on his heel and returning to the small kitchen. He was frustrated and you felt bad about that, but he would hopefully know soon enough.

And like clockwork, the bathroom door then opened, Chan emerging with damp hair and thankfully fully clothed. It wasn’t the time to get distracted by his incredible body, you’d probably just feel even more guilty if that was even possible.

“Y/n,” Chan chimed, voice full of life and excitement as he all but blinded to your side like an excited puppy. Though, his cheery nature wouldn’t be enough to raise your spirits—if anything he dampened them further, even more guilt gnawing at your chest.

He grabbed your limp arms and rugged you forward, nearly pulling you into his chest. You felt your brows furrow and your head tilt away as he leaned forward to place a kiss on your lips, only to miss and land on the side of your head. Chan immediately pulled away with blinking eyes, his pretty lips open in slight surprise.

You cringed.

The universe was really against you today, huh?

“Is something wrong?” Chan asked, voice full of concern.

What a perfect guy.

You nodded, lips pulling in a tight line. “The morning has just been a little crazy…”

Eyes flickering up they landed on Changbin, who was already glancing your way, his own gaze skipping back and forth between you and Chan. Though, without a word he turned back to whatever breakfast he was cooking.

“Anything I can do to help?”

Leave—

You seriously wanted to punch yourself in the face. It wasn’t Chan’s fault for what happened, and you couldn’t ever think that. He was just caught in the middle of some messed up situation that wouldn’t have even happened if you just kept your stupid heart in line. Maybe if you had never met Jisung, everything would’ve turned out fine.

Because that would’ve solved all of your petty problems.

“No, Channie,” you managed to send a smile to the boy. “But we should probably get out of here before things get worse.”

Chan nodded, carefully lifting his hand to cradle your jaw.

“Okay. No problem.”

You sighed as he gave you the most patient smile you’d ever seen. Your guilt only grew.

Could things get any worse?

As if answering your question, the door to your brother’s room swung open and quietly shut after your grey haired sibling stepped out. His face was set, jaw squared and brows furrowed.

It was the same face that he went into every conflict with. That was the same expression he wore every time he threw a punch or when he used to pick fights with your mother’s old boyfriends. Minho was angry—with who, you weren’t yet sure.

But he didn’t miss a beat as he stepped around Chan and took his place in front of you, his calloused and scarred hand reaching up to the neck of your tousled sweater. You didn’t even bother to pull away or wiggle out of his reach, you just kept your unwavering gaze on Minho’s face as he tugged your collar down to expose the patches upon patches of bruises that spread lower than most would consider to be modest.

Minho kept his gaze down, refusing to look up into the wide eyes of his baby sister. He didn’t believe it when Jisung began babbling about hickies and teeth marks on your skin, his head in his hands as he finally came down from his inner panic. But there it was, clear as fucking day.

Minho wanted to spin around and sock Chan square in the jaw, but there was something deeper seeded in his chest that kept him from doing so. He bit the skin on the inside of his cheek inside, his mouth filling with copper as he dropped his hold on your sweater and spun around. He met eyes with Chan for only a moment, getting a hard look back as he bumped past and back into his room. This time the door had slammed behind him, all caution to the wind.

You expected yelling and screaming, a fight you were willing to endure and take. Minho was your brother—as much as he wanted to fill the hole that your dad left empty—he was just your older brother. He could scream and punch things, but you weren’t a baby anymore. What you hadn’t expected was complete silence from him, it was almost worse than him screaming…

No, your mind flickered back to the way he refused to even look into your eyes, it was much worse.

678 notes · View notes