#i promise you men like that will MUCH prefer a blanket statement such as 'all men are as bad as each other' | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

firstofficerwiggles · 3 years

Text

Dress Code, Part 3

Links to Part 1 and Part 2

Pairing: Din Djarin x female reader

Rating: M (T version here if you prefer no sex)

Warnings: SMUT, attempt at romantic smut, but still descriptions of unprotected sex (be safe in the real world, please)

Summary: You and Din are back on the Razor Crest after the party and things get romantic. Confessions of feelings and lots of fluff.

Word Count: ~3800

Author’s Note: This was heavily inspired by Perfect by Ed Sheeran and that’s the song they are dancing to. If you’re familiar with the lyrics, you’ll note that Din uses one of the lines from the song. Also, I don’t really know how the holopads are supposed to work, so I’m treating it like a space iPad that can play music. Again, shamelessly stolen planet names from Star Trek. Also here’s the necklace from the story, in case you were wondering what it looked like.

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

You whisk your cloak off of you again, headless of the cold, wanting Din to see you in the dress again.

“I’ll make you a new deal,” he says, his helmet moving up and down as if he is looking you over. “I’ll take you to some warmer planets and I won’t complain about your clothing, but only if you promise to never wear that dress in public again.”

The dress has served its purpose, better than you could have anticipated. “Alright, it’s a deal,” you tell him with a smile.

“Although,” Din drawls out, “if you want to wear it again when we’re alone together, I’d like that.”

“Wait, so you do like this dress?” You ask the Mandalorian surprise coloring your voice. “It’s just earlier, you seemed so angry about it,” you figured it was too much for him, too risqué for him to really like it.

“Sweetheart, when I saw you in that dress, looking so beautiful,” Din sighs, “all I could think was that I didn’t deserve to see you looking so perfect.”

“Oh Mando, that’s… thank you… that’s the most romantic thing any man has ever said to me.” You feel stunned by his words. You’ve been dreaming of hearing him say something like this to you, but the reality is so much better than anything you could imagine.

His voice gets a little sterner when he says, “But I wasn’t crazy about all those other men seeing you like that too.” Then, more gruffly, he tells you “I am sorry though if I acted like a jealous idiot,” he tips his helmet down a bit, slightly ashamed at his rudeness this evening.

“Mando, you don’t have to be jealous,” you tell him, “I’m not interested in other men. I was thinking about you when I chose this dress.”

“Is that true?” he asks. Din really wants to believe you, but he’s still not sure how a woman like you could ever be with him.

“Yes, it is. I only cared about you seeing me in it.”

“What about Guy?” Din says his name like it’s a curse, “You seemed to like his attention too.” His voice has a teasing tone to it, but you can hear the undercurrent of a need for reassurance in his statement too.

“Who?” you say innocently, “You’re the only man I remember from tonight, Mando.” And you give him the most flirtatious look you have, trying to show him that he’s the only one for you.

“Well, good.” His visor seems to stare at you for a beat before he looks you over again and notes the small goosebumps that have arisen on your arms, “Let’s go up to the cockpit, it’s warmer up there.”

You follow him up the ladder to the cockpit, where it is noticeably warmer, but honestly, you’re so overwhelmed with everything, with him, you had forgotten about the cold. In fact when you look over to your armor-clad bounty hunter and remember how you danced together, you feel heat spreading through your whole body.

Din doesn’t notice the cold either, how could he with the way you are looking at him, eyes full of desire? He had to bring you up here just to stop from dragging you straight to his bunk. When you said you only thought of him when you bought the dress, he felt a primal urge to claim you right then, but he wants to show you how much you mean to him first. He needs you to understand how deeply he cares for you.

You watch as Din goes over to the console where he has a holopad and he switches on some music. Different from the fast-paced dance music of the party, this music is soft and slow. Before he turns back to you, you watch with wide eyes as he takes off his pauldrons, followed by his chest plate, and so on until his helmet is the only beskar remaining. He looks more relaxed now in just his shirt and pants and you feel like you are getting a glimpse of the man underneath the warrior’s armor.

“Will you dance with me again?” Din asks, holding out his now gloveless hand to you. You feel a jolt of energy when your fingers touch his warm skin for the first time as you take his hand. He pulls you in to him holding your right hand up to his chest and then placing his other hand in the small of your back in a more old-fashioned dancing style. You let your left arm wrap up around his shoulder, amazed at being able to feel more of his body without the hard metal in the way. You sway with him to the music, dancing under the light of thousands of stars in the sky, and it’s perfect. You listen to the lyrics of the song as the singer croons,

Baby, I'm dancing in the dark with you between my arms

Barefoot on the grass, listening to our favourite song When you said you looked a mess, I whispered underneath my breath But you heard it, darling, you look perfect tonight

“Mando, I love this song, but I thought you hated it?” you ask astonished, “You always huff when I put it on.”

“I don’t hate it,” he says, “but it makes me frustrated, or it did, because,” he swallows, “well, because it’s- it’s everything I want to say to you, but I don’t know how. And I don’t know how I could ever deserve to be with someone like you.”

“You’re doing a pretty great job of showing me how you feel now,” you reply your eyes shining at him. Yet one thing bothers you about what he said, “But why don’t you think you deserve it?”

“I uh,” he seems a bit awkward and he turns his visor away from your gaze for a moment, “I’m not proud of some of the things I’ve done in the past. I know I’ve made bad decisions; there are choices that I regret.” He turns back to you, giving your hand a squeeze “And you are such a good person, the way you care for the child, and for me, it’s so kind and sweet, I don’t know if I’m worthy of it.”

His words are breaking your heart, how can he not see what a wonderful man he is? “You are perfect to me,” you tell him honestly. “I’ve never known a better man. You show me every day how important the child and I are to you. I don’t know any other man who could protect us so fiercely but then also take the time for stories and blanket forts. Even when you’re annoying me by arguing about my clothes, I know you’re only doing it out of a desire to keep me safe. We’ve all made mistakes in our past, but I see who you are now, who you want to be, and I like that man, I like him very much.”

Din lets out a contented sigh and brings his helmet down to touch your forehead. He hugs you tight against him as he whispers, “Do you really, sweetheart?”

“Yes, I do,” you reassure him softly as you tip your head up and place a kiss on his helmet right where you think his mouth would be.

“I would like to really kiss you,” Din tells you, “but I don’t know how,” he admits shyly.

“It’s alright,” you say, “I understand you can’t remove your helmet.”

“No, I mean, I- I’ve never, um, never kissed anyone… before.” He stammers out. “If you can’t see me, if you kept your eyes closed, I could take off my helmet.” You smile at the hopefulness in his voice.

“You would trust me to do that? Not to peek?” A wave of affection sweeps over you at his willingness to remove his helmet so that you can be his first kiss.

“Yes,” Din replies, “you’re the only one I trust to do this.”

“I promise I won’t open my eyes until you tell me that I can.” You squeeze your eyes shut and wait with anticipation, your heart beating so loudly you are sure he can hear it. He steps away from you for a moment and you hear a soft shuffle followed by a dull thunk. Then you feel him come back towards you as he grasps your hand and brings it up to touch his cheek for the first time. You let your palm graze over the stubble there, marveling at the feeling of finally touching him like this. You gently run your hand across his jaw and into the hair at the nape of his neck, bringing his face closer to your own until you can feel his breath across your lips. Even though you can’t see him, you can feel his nervousness, and so you whisper, “It’s ok, you can kiss me.”

The feeling of your hand on his neck and the sweet pressure of your body against his is almost overwhelming for Din. He looks at your lips, so tantalizing and so exactly what he has been dreaming about for months now, yet he hesitates unsure of himself. But when you whisper those words of encouragement to him, it’s all he needs. He softly touches his lips to yours, trying to move them the way he’s seen in the romantic holoprograms he watched in an attempt to learn how to kiss. It’s a little bit clumsy at first, but you don’t care at all. You tip your head to the side and slowly guide him with your own lips, showing him what you like and parting your lips a little as you do. He follows your movements and when he parts his lips too, you gently slide your tongue inside his mouth and deepen the kiss. He makes the most adorable sound of surprise as your tongue touches his and then he kisses you back enthusiastically. When you finally break apart, you are both breathless.

“I had no idea kissing you would be this wonderful,” Din tells you between breaths, “If I did, I would have taken the helmet off months ago.” You smile, but before you can reply he pulls you back into another passionate kiss. He is a fast learner and his kisses are making you weak in the knees. As Din starts to feel more certain of himself, he lets his hands explore your body. His fingertips graze over your nearly naked back causing a delightful shiver to run down your spine. When his large hands reach your waist, he grips you tighter and brings your hips to grind into his, the sensation making you moan with pleasure. Your own hands entwine into his soft hair, letting his curls swirl around your fingers, and as he kisses you more intensely, you tug lightly on his hair eliciting a groan from him. His lips leave yours but only so he can place hot kisses along your jaw and then down your neck. He reaches a particularly sensitive spot causing you to whimper and he gets bolder still, nipping you and then sucking there to create his first love bite.

“Mando!” you cry out surprised, although secretly you have to admit that you love the idea of him marking you as his.

“Din” he tells you before soothing the bite with a soft kiss.

“What?” you ask confused, it’s hard to think when he’s touching and kissing you like this.

“My name is Din,” he clarifies, “I’d like you to call me by my real name.”

“Din” you repeat almost reverently, honored that he trusts you enough to share his name with you. “I like it, it suits you, Din.”

“I like the way you say it,” he replies warmly and then returns to your lips with another searing kiss. He feels like he could kiss you forever if you would let him. Although you are the first woman he’s ever kissed, he’s had plenty of other sexual encounters in the past, but nothing has ever felt as intimate as this and he’s never felt so connected to another person before.

You feel wonderful in his arms, kissing him just like in your many daydreams. Yet, the reality of keeping your eyes closed this whole time is starting to get harder and it makes you nervous that you might slip up. You pull back from him so that you can ask, “Is there anything I can use to cover my eyes? It’s getting harder to keep them closed and I don’t want to ruin this.”

“You want a blindfold?” Din asks both touched and aroused at the idea. “You trust me enough to do that?”

“Din, you’ve trusted me to keep my eyes shut this whole time,” you point out, “I think the blindfold would just make it easier for me. But, yes, I trust you.”

“Give me a moment,” Din steps away from you and you hear fabric ripping as he tears part of his cape to make the covering. He returns to you and places the fabric around your eyes and head, quickly securing it at the back. Although you keep your eyelids closed beneath the blindfold, you feel a sense of relief with the extra layer protecting his creed. Din hears you let out a small sigh and relax a bit and it makes him smile at the level of confidence you have in him. He takes your hand and leads you over towards his pilot’s chair, “let’s get a little more comfortable.”

You hear a slight shuffling and then feel Din pull you into his lap, guiding your legs until you are straddling his thighs, your knees on either side of his hips. As you reach up to put your hands on his shoulders, you gasp as your hands meet warm skin and you realize he has removed his shirt. You bring your hands down the front of his chest to caress and explore his body. As your fingers discover every dip and curve of his muscular frame, your lips follow with soft kisses that make Din shiver and groan. You work your way back up to his neck and then decide that turnabout is fair play giving him your own love mark. The sound he makes as your teeth graze the base of his throat goes straight between your thighs.

“Can I touch more of you?” He asks with his fingers hesitating near the fastenings of your dress at the back of your neck; even now he’s still respectful.

“Yes,” you tell him between kisses, “touch me everywhere.”

He carefully unhooks your dress so he can ease the straps off of your shoulders. The material falls away, revealing your breasts to his eager eyes. He takes a moment to watch you as you anticipate his touch. You expect to feel his large palms cupping you, but he takes you by surprise as you feel his hot mouth on your skin instead. His lips and tongue drive you crazy as he lavishes attention on each sensitive peak, bringing his hands up to push your breasts together so he can tease both at almost the same time. The divine pleasure makes you groan out his name and push your chest forward encouraging him further. His hands drop down to your hips and he tugs you to him until your hips are flush with his. You can feel the evidence of his desire for you hot and needy against your core. You can’t resist grinding yourself up and down his hard length causing you both to moan.

Din returns his lips to yours and holds you tight to his chest. He loves the feel of your soft breasts against his skin. His hands are eager to feel more though and he drops them from your hips to reach under your skirt to palm your ass. He grips you tightly as he helps you move against him making you cry out his name.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he says encouraging you, bucking his hips up into yours, “want you to feel good, let me help you feel so good.”

The friction is delicious and you throw your head back and call out his name as you continue to grind yourself on his lap. You can feel your pleasure mounting with each pass of your hips, but as good as it is, you know it won’t be enough to get you all the way there.

“I need more,” you tell him, “I need all of you.”

“You can have it,” his voice sounds rich with promise, “I’ll give you whatever you need.”

You slide off of his lap and let your dress drop to the floor followed by your panties. His breath comes out in a whoosh followed by a contented hum and you know he is admiring the sight of your nude body. You hear him unfasten his trousers followed by the sound of him yanking them down out of the way. He reaches for you and guides you back on to the chair, straddling him again. You let out a moan as you feel the tip of him glide over your wet folds. Without being able to see him, each touch feels heightened.

“You’re so wet for me,” Din groans out, spreading your arousal on his shaft. “Not even inside you yet, but feels fucking amazing.”

He positions himself at your entrance and brings his hands to your hips to encourage you to ease down on him. “You set the pace, sweetheart.” You may be the one blindfolded, but he’s giving you the control you need so you can trust him. You slowly lower yourself, letting him stretch you open. It’s been a long time since you’ve been with anyone else and even though you can’t see him, you can tell that he is large. He almost makes you feel like a virgin again.

Din can’t believe how tight you feel around him, it’s better than he imagined. He grits his teeth to keep from driving into you, wanting you to adjust to his size first. Still he can’t keep from begging you, “more, please,” but he holds himself still, continuing to let you be in charge.

You slide down further, spreading your thighs wider until he is fully seated within you. “Din, you feel incredible,” you tell him breathlessly as you gently rock back and forth on his lap, feeling him deep inside you as your internal muscles tighten and release around his cock. It provokes a deep rumbling groan from him, a sound you are eager to hear again and again. You lean in to find his lips, kissing him passionately as you constrict around him again.

“Please, sweetheart, don’t tease me,” he pants out, “Need you to move.”

Wickedly, you can’t resist giving him one more squeeze before you oblige and begin raising and lowering yourself, riding him. You set a steady pace and he begins to move with you, thrusting up into your body with a roll of his hips. As he plunges deep within you, he hits the sensitive spot on the top of your walls every time and it feels fantastic.

“Yes, Din, so good, just like that,” you encourage him, “I’ve wanted you for so long.”

“Me too,” Din groans out, “Dreamed of you all the time.”

Din’s hands dig into your hips helping to guide you each time you rise and fall on his cock. He watches your face, stunned by how beautiful you look and wishes he could see your eyes. The blindfold is worth it though, because now he can pull you to him and kiss you the way he’s always wanted to all the while feeling himself pulse inside of your velvet heat. He only breaks away from your lips to tell you, “So wonderful, never been like this before.”

“Please, Din,” you cry out, the sensations starting to overwhelm you as you chase your climax, the pressure mounting within you. “Yes, sweetheart, let yourself go, I’ve got you.” Din tells you before he leans in and captures one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking hard. It pushes you over the edge making you cry out his name over and over as you dive and fall into sheer bliss. As he feels you grip him even tighter as you come, his thrusts become more erratic and stronger, his control slipping away. He moans out your name loudly before following you into his own release and pumping himself even deeper within you.

You pull back from him slightly, as you both catch your breath and come down from your highs. Din’s hand comes up to play with your necklace, tracing the shape of it on your chest. “I love seeing this on you, especially when it’s all you have on,” he says, “it’s like you’re wearing a little piece of me all the time.”

“That’s how I feel too,” you tell him, bringing your hand up to his “I can feel you with me wherever I go.”

Din kisses you again, softly this time, before telling you, “Wherever you go, I will be with you, if you want me to be.”

“I’ll always want that, Din.”

He brings his arms around you and you cuddle into his chest, feeling more happy and content than you ever have before. You feel him place a kiss on your forehead and then he asks, “Where do you want me to take you next?”

“How about a planet with a warm sunny beach for once?” you grin at him with a sassy smile.

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

The rest of your visit on Alastria passes pleasantly with the child, Davi, and Isa. You introduce the child to sledding and you all have an epic snowball fight for the ages. Isa and you also manage to have a second shopping trip, where you are sure to pick up something special. Although you are sad to leave your new friends, the promise of a warmer climate has you eager for your next adventure.

About a week later, you are landing on the planet Velara near a beautiful coastline with a wide sandy beach. Fortunately it’s very secluded and private with no other people in sight, so it will be perfect for your plans. You ready yourself and the child for your day in the sun, both dressed in new swimsuits all ready for the sand and surf. As Din comes down the ladder from the cockpit, he gets an eyeful of your very sexy beach look for the first time, and although you know he likes it, he lets out a groan and says, “You’re determined to drive me crazy, woman.”

“Yes, but you love it,” you tell him saucily. “Oh, and by the way, I bought you a swimsuit too.” You toss him his own pair of sexy trunks like you’ve thrown down a gauntlet, “You do want to make sure you’re properly dressed, that is, if you’re up for it.”

Din tilts his helmet at you and could swear he’s smirking as he says, “Oh, I’m definitely up for it.”

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

The End! Thank you for reading, I really hope you enjoyed it.

@sleepwithacommunist @im-the-nerdiest-of-them-a11 @rueblogsthings @mackycat11 @tv-zepeda @remmyswritings @dee-rosemary @boomtownboy @mandosboobiez @hoodjarin @haley7242 @mudhornchronicles

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian smut #the mandalorian x female reader #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin fanfiction

129 notes · View notes

datingintampafails · 3 years

Text

Chapter 33: Robert*

Robert* reminds me of Peter*, in which, there’s confusion about names, the vibes are never quite right, and the date is pretty short. Though in this case, although we did talk for a longer time than Peter* and I did, the date itself was even shorter, a whopping 45 minutes.

Initially, Robert* likes me first on Hinge. His profile is not necessarily a slam dunk for me. He looks decent looking, though not my usual type, and has a chain bakery listed as to where he works. I like to think I am not a snob when it comes to careers, I’m pretty open-minded, but I do want to be with someone who has ambition and can have intelligent conversations with me since I am pretty well educated. Basically, someone around my level of thinking.

I decided to give the guy a chance and respond to his like by mentioning that I really like cookies at the place he works. He mentions that we could have a first date there and I responded by asking if he has dates with girls at his work often. He tells me he has only been working there a few weeks, so no. We legitimately talk about the different kinds of cookies for a while, then he moves on to ask me about what else I like. I mention my dog, then share that I space out and have trouble thinking on the spot and ask him about himself to see if it will also remind me of other things I like. He talks about seeing friends and playing video games, adds he “Doesn’t get out much.” Without missing a beat, he asks me what I’m looking for on dating apps. The dreaded question. I ask him to tell me first. My reasoning being, I feel like many men will cater their answers to what you want, instead of telling the truth. He writes me a long answer then gives me a TL;DR (too long; didn’t read) that is maybe ⅔ the length of the original message, so not that short, that says “going with the flow, down for a consistent [friends with benefits] or relationship, whatever happens, just not a one-night stand.” He announces it is then my turn to respond. I tell him I feel more or less the same, as his original longer message, but that I am not as much interested in the friends with benefits thing. Specifically, I say that with FWB, there needs to be an opportunity, or “nahhh.” I say that expectations only bring hardship and lightheartedly say I like to ask super important questions early in relationships, i.e. like my survey/application from way back when, and add “like cookie choices.” He asks me to clarify my opportunity or nahhh and says he is an open book and I can ask him anything. I explain my feelings more, saying that I don’t see the point of sticking around if someone is dead set on not wanting a relationship with me, as well as it is usually temporary and almost like a holding pattern. I ask my most important question, which is if someone wants children or not.

I get a slight argument back from him, regarding the FWB thing, saying that it can turn into more. I argue back, saying that it is still something that needs to be wanted, or at least both parties from the start can think “maybe someday.” He says this and that about the FWB, before answering my question. He says, more or less, he is open to it but it isn’t a necessity for him, however, he definitely doesn’t want kids right now. He asks me how I feel about it and I express I do not want them but would be open to adoption. He says that’s fine with him and quickly says, “Any other questions.” I am not meaning for this to be an interview. I say I do have a question, but that it is more of an open-ended/ statement that can be responded to. All I say for my “question” is the phrase “trump.” I also let him know I am going to sleep soon so we can continue our conversation in the morning. He does not like my question, that is that he says it is too vague and isn’t helpful for political discussions. I tell him that is my point, and that I am looking for him to express his feelings and that I can either oppose, agree, or somewhere in between. He says likely there would be all three. I go to sleep so I do not respond.

He greets me in the morning with a good morning. I greet him back, though I remind him I am still waiting on his opinions. It is a Saturday, so I also let him know I am about to present for a Zoom conference. He says he’s at a rowing camp and on a break from that, then asks me about my conference. He again requests that I be more specific than just “Saying one word.” I tell him about the conference, but regarding the political question, I send an eye-rolling emoji again saying that that is the point of the open forum, that I am looking for a blanket statement of his feelings regarding Trump.

He again asks about my presentation, and how it went, then goes on to give a pretty neutral debate, saying there’s good and bad, though it seems he veers more towards being a Trump fan, which is not my preference. Robert* offers to me that I can ask any questions about his stance. I am thinking, I do not need an invitation, I have a question and I will ask it.

Robert* inquires what I am doing the rest of the night. I say I’m staying in as I am going to Disney World the next day. I ask him what he is going to do the rest of the night, as that is the societally polite thing to do. I am asked AGAIN if I have any questions to ask him. He also says that he “wanted to do something with someone tonight. Chill night in maybe? Not necessarily sexual. Just relaxing, drinking some wine maybe.” My response is “haha sorry i don’t think i’ll be ‘someone’ today,” both calling him out on obviously being thirsty, as well and reiterating I am not planning on going out tonight. He admits defeat, saying that he didn’t think I would be either, but it was “worth a shot to ask.” However, he does say he does want to get together sometime.

Immediately before I can even respond to that, though, he asks me where in Disney I am going tomorrow. I tell him that Monday I could look at my schedule and put together a time and day we could meet up. I also express that I do not want to meet him at either of our places, mostly because of the stunt he had just pulled. I tell him my Disney World plans as well. He says that it is fine to talk about going out on Monday and says that “that would’ve been the plan” to not hang out at either of our places, despite what he had just said earlier about having a chill night in. I call him out on this, reminding him that he had just said something different, his response being, “yes, sorry if that made you uncomfortable. Im horny as all hell but my intentions are good and i can keep it in my pants. I promise.” How romantic. I send a laughing emoji and say that we’ve all been there before. He says he didn’t want to cross the “TMI threshold,” wherein I say that it is difficult to TMI me, but that doesn't mean I won’t be judgemental. His next comment is awkward, as he invites me to judge, but says that he’s “done [his] fair share of crazy/dumb/slutty shit. As [he is] sure [I] have too.” Weird to accuse someone you are trying to woo of being a crazy dumb slut, but okay. I bring up that I had an abusive relationship but that even in that, I wasn’t completely devoid of wrongdoing. He asks if I am comfortable talking about that and is sympathetic. I tell him more about that and he asks for some of the red flags my ex but off that I ignored. For the billionth time, Robert* offers that if I have any more important questions that I can go ahead and ask. I briefly acknowledge he asked again, by saying “lol if they come up organically I’ll ask” before continuing to talk about my abusive ex. One of the things I mentioned was that my ex was very critical about my body habitus, that is, that I was too skinny. Robert* takes it upon himself to say, “ as far as your body, it seems like you have a great fucking body…. As long as you’re not unhealthy idgaf im attracted to you sooooo” then sends two heart-eyed emojis and a shrugging guy emoji. The line he draws is that his “hands are rated E for everyone,” the context being, if someone hit him he would hit back. I explained my body issues some more and that I have stomach issues, and have always been a small person. He misunderstands and thinks I’m talking about having abs or having a fatty stomach. With the context I felt I had given, I sent a bunch of question marks before adding that my stomach issues were internal. He apologizes a lot for misunderstanding and says he is glad I’m in a better situation.

In his mind, it’s now a great time to bring up that we should text or snap. I tell him that Snapchat is “for hoes” if you only talk on Snapchat. Referencing to myself Darren* mostly. He sends me his number and then I text him. The next day, I am off having a day with my friend at an amusement park. He texts me often throughout the day and I respond when I have a chance. My best friend is asking me “who is this one?” and by the time she asks this, I’m honestly getting a little annoyed. She’s still asking about John* and where he is at. “I don’t know what’s going on with him. We’re mad at him right now. He is doing that shit again. I have to play the game, you know?” I describe Robert* as being kind of needy. At one point, Robert* is texting and asking desperately when I’m free and when we can go out. I tell him “I’m still out I’m not focused on that right now” The overeagerness is kind of a turn-off. And as mentioned earlier, we had already agreed to plan things out on Monday, and it was Sunday. He responds “Ok nvm. We don’t have to talk about that. Sorry.” Maybe I was harsh but had to put this guy in his place. I get a barrage of questions about Disney World. I mention I’m wearing my hat like a frat boy. He responds jokingly, “disgusting, how dare you.” I continue the charade by saying “yep I haze the shit out of people.” Next, however, his response is too cringey, “Mmmm haze me frat mandy” and adds “I can go more cringe.” I reply, “no thanks.” I ignore him for the rest of the day and then when I get home I finally tell him 1) I’m home and 2) what days I’m available. He gets irritated as the two nights I am available, are the only nights he is working. I have some friends coming into town the next weekend as well, so I tell him I’m not really available since I want to hang out with them. We go back and forth on what to do then with our conflicting schedules. Finally, we agree upon doing something after my work, but before his work on one of the days, giving us a tight segment of time but that should be enough for more or less a meet and greet. Because he is the one that will have somewhere to go, I tell him that he’s in charge of the planning and logistics because I wanted to make sure he had enough time to get to work.

We chat superficially in the meantime, mostly about video games and a little about past relationships. And of course… more inviting me to ask questions again. He puts me on the spot regarding the date and is trying to make me plan. I put the responsibility back on him. Finally, he suggests a place he had been wanting to try, that is more or less like a juice bar that also does protein shakes, kind of a health shop. Not really my kind of place, but I’m making him do all the planning so I won’t argue. We both independently go on a search for menus/information. He makes a comment regarding finding the menu but no prices. He randomly comments while we are chatting about the place “have i ever said that youre really fucking cute,” to which I just respond “not like in those exact words.” He adds “but yea you are. I humbly brag, “thanks! I know this about myself.” Typical male response is, presumably joking, “ok you’re too cocky” “youre ugly” “gotta bring you down a peg.” To this I just say, “it’s called confidence/not being insecure.” He switches things around saying “i know confidence is sexy.”

I don’t respond to this and get a good morning text the next day and he makes small talk about how we slept and such. It is the day that I have a date with Timmy*, but of course Robert* doesn’t know this. He at one point texts me saying that his morning got really shitty. I ask him what’s wrong and all he says is “I’ll tell you about it later.” I wonder why people do this, like why bring it up if you aren’t gonna talk about it now? It all seems like a sort of test. I do not play these games. All I say in response is “ok.” He adds “if I don’t text you about it remind me.” I don’t respond. He texts me again asking how my work is going an hour-ish later. I say it’s hectic and he asks if I’m on lunch. I send him a message about not getting full lunch breaks. I don’t hear from him for almost five hours, and given his text earlier about his bad day, I figured something could be wrong given how clingy via text he usually is. I finally text him and ask if he is ok. He says he took a nap and asked again about work, making a point that it was better than his day. Enough of the baiting, I finally say snarkily, “yeah you still have to tell me [what happened.” He is hyping it up now, saying “fair warning - its sad” I don’t respond because I figure he would still go on and tell me what happens and it didn’t warrant a response, but then he adds “if you still want to know” a few minutes later. I honestly don’t care too much, “if you want to tell me.” He finally does tell me what happened, and essentially he saw a dog be hit by a car and had tried to help it with someone else who saw the hit but the dog, unfortunately, didn’t make it. I commend him on trying to help and he says that he did the right thing and that’s why his day sucked. I don’t really know how to respond to that, plus at this point, I am getting ready for my date.

I lie to him when he asks me about my night, saying that I am chilling. More small talk to my disgust, and I verify our plans for the next day. He makes a comment about not being able to see the prices anywhere. This seems to be a worry of his for whatever reason, so I tell him that we can do something else and that I am flexible. He is of no help, as all he says about this is “idk what else we’d do.” My response is “ok” and I say I’m going to bed. In the morning it is finally the day of our date and I let him know that unfortunately I forgot to bring a change of clothes with me to work, so I’ll be wearing my work outfit tonight. He makes a comment about how he’s never seen a cute girl not look good in scrubs, and I let him know that today is the day that changes.

During the day, he states he is thinking of driving by to check the prices of the drinks and that he’s also got a back up. I tell him he should do whatever he wants. I look the places up and they are about 25 minutes away from my work. I head on that way once my work is done and I arrive first. I wait in my car until he texts me to ask which car is mine. I get out of my car and grab my things, now realizing I parked next to a puddle of water and got my shoes a little wet. I laugh it off and say oh well. I see who I presume to be him getting out of a car on the other side of the parking lot. He’s wearing a light pink hoodie, a little different but hey, real men wear pink, right?

I approach him and say hello and give him a hug. We get our masks on and walk into the store. Immediately we are greeted by who I can only assume is the owner of the shop. He is bright and happy and gives us his spiel about the type of beverages they have there. Robert* is being very quiet and is very short with the worker, saying he doesn’t know what he wants and I should go first. I try to describe what I’m going for, and the worker says the exact thing on the menu I want is unavailable due to a delayed shipment, but suggests something else to me and I accept with recommendation. I am done ordering apparently too quickly, as my date is still undecided. The owner ends up just asking him if he likes snickers, the candy bar, and he gives a not-very-believable “Yeah” so the owner suggests to him a shake that is based on those flavor patterns. Robert* is asked if we’re paying together and I look to him, he lets out an apathetic, “sure” and it takes all of my energy not to scoff. The owner tells us that they’re giving discounts out if you advertise the location by sharing a photo on social media and I agree to do so, because why not.

Then it gets a little uncomfortable. The owner is trying to be extra personable and make it a personalized experience, so upon receiving Robert*’s card, he starts referring to him using his name that is on his card. The only thing is, the name I know him by is not the name on the card, nor any fort of that name, like a typical nickname. Under my face mask, I smile and almost laugh to myself like, you dumb bitch who are you even out with rihgt now. Additional peer pressure from the owner also leads to us giving him our emails and signing up for their loyalty program, which also knocks off some cents off our drink. When I give him mine, obviously everything is the same, but when he gives his email, his email does have the name that I knew him by in the address, so I figure okay maybe Robert* is a middle name or something. Because we were under one order, there was also some sort of combo discount included as well since he got a shake and, I, a tea.

As we walk away from the counter and take a seat on a couch maybe 10 feet away, Robert* abruptly asks “what do you think the damage is?” Immediately pulling out his phone and checking the receipt of our drinks. “Uh I don’t know…. Sixteen dollars,” I guess. I am honestly put off by his obsession on price. I understand money issues, but it is not appropriate for first date behavior. I am pretty close, as it is somewhere in the mid $15 range. He scoffs at the prices.

Now that we are sitting together, I am noticing really how disheveled and not put together he looks. He has overgrown stubble, too short to be a beard, but definitely not stubble from just the day. His skin all over his face and body is dry and flaky, especially on his ears. Again, I expect a little more from a man who has had days to prepare for this date. I have been sipping my drink for a while, and it is honestly delicious, one of the best beverages I’ve ever had. He asks if I would like to try his drink. “No thank you, I don’t think it would go well with my fruity drink,” I half lie. The major reason why is that I am weird about sharing drinks/food and that so far I am almost repulsed by him and don’t want to share anything with him.

Despite my lack of optimism already, I try my best to be upbeat and give him a chance. I am trying to start a conversation and ask him questions and get to know him more, but he is a brick wall. He’s just staring at me and not saying anything, occasionally taking sips from his shake. Many of his responses are very sarcastic and rude. He actually brings up the ears; he had a very bad sunburn and that’s why they looked like that. Doesn’t explain the rest of his look though, but at least he was aware of that. It is pretty warm in the shop. I already opted to leave my jacket in the car, but at one point he decided to take off his sweatshirt. Underneath was a red shirt with almost like a confetti cake type pattern, of little microscopic dots of different colors throughout. I compliment the shirt, and mention I have one of a similar type of fabric pattern. I am nodded at. I again continue to try and force conversation, but I am still getting nothing.

Randomly he says, “come here” and puts his arm around me, pulling me close. I am extremely confused, as I was getting very negative vibes from him all over. I make my confusion known by commenting about how that was out of nowhere. His only response is, “oh you know.” “No, I do not know. I have no idea what is going on right now.” He only just chuckles and is like “you’re a cute girl.” I furrow my brow in confusion and figure we should get some air and suggest we take a walk. I ran to my car and put the drink in my car as well as my bag, being light, only having my phone and car keys for the walk. We take off and just walk through a nearby neighborhood. We have maybe 10-15 more minutes until he has to get going so he can get to work in time.

Conversation is still moderately forced, but a little better. At one point, we come up to a tree where the branches overhang drastically over the sidewalk. Whereas before I had been walking on the street side, Robert* has swung around and walked into the street, whereas I choose just to duck under the branches, which is easier with me being shorter, although I would not say he is very tall either. I made a comment about not caring and that he could have just “pushed me into the street/out of the way” and continued on, jokingly, about how you have to put a woman in their place. He says “okay noted I see what you like now,” trying to turn it into something sexual, it seems. I pause a moment, becoming much more serious when I say, “you know I’m kidding. I’ve told you about my abusive relationship so obviously I am not a fan of battering women.” In this moment, he pulls me into an embrace and tries to kiss me. I lean away and ask him, “why is talking about abusing women the time to try and kiss me?” He makes an excuse saying that he just really wanted to kiss me. I lie again, making another excuse about why I don’t want to kiss him, “I’m more old fashioned I guess, I’d like to get to know someone a little better and make sure that we are compatible and know each other well before I do anything.” Again, not entirely untrue. For the five hundredth or so time, Robert* says that I can ask him any questions.

I check my watch and declare, accurately, “We should probably head back towards our cars, you need to head out soon.” We walk back to the parking lot, having idle chitter chatter. When we get to my car, it’s perfect timing, as an alarm he had set to make sure he left on time goes off. I start to say our goodbyes and he tells me again that he wants to kiss me. I make a noise that makes my discomfort known, and he says, “well what about a kiss on the cheek?” I say verbatim, “I’ll allow it.” He makes a sarcastic comment, mocking me about “allowing it.” I retorted back saying, “well yeah.” He sticks to his word and only does a cheek kiss, and I’m cringing and can’t wait to wash my face when I get home. Being polite, I ask for him to let me know when he gets to work.

Using my Apple Carplay, I ask my car to text him when I notice he is driving behind me. Though, as all I’m getting is audio, I don’t know exactly what I am texting until I get home later.

(the first two texts of mine are my car texting and not manually)

Immediately, he asks me my feelings about him.

I then offered Venmo him money for my drink, as obviously money was a huge concern for him. He accepts and sends me his Venmo. I sent him the money and let him know so.

And that is that. He doesn’t text me after that.

#dating #relationships #stpete #florida #tampa #tampabay #hinge #bumble #tinder #datingapps #baddates

5 notes · View notes

tsubaki3192 · 4 years

Note

Oh I’d really love to read the aquarium HC’s!!! They sound superfun. And I am curious about the Nicknames with Mitsuhide. An idea for that: MC wants another nickname, one that’s not little mouse and they try out different ones but they all sound wrong and they end up at little mouse again?

Nicknames

[Mitsuhide x Reader]

———————-

Tags: @tsuki-no-usagiii @wingardium-letmefuckyou @unstoppablelinda @zavannahmj

Let me know if you want to be (un)tagged?

———————

Notes: OML I APOLOGISE DEEPLY FOR HOW LATE THIS IS… I SWEAR I DIDN’T MEAN FOR IT TO TAKE THIS LONG-

So, uh, what happened was I started writing, went WAY off tangent to both my original idea and your request, came back to a full circle… Before realising I should’ve just rewritten it altogether… If anyone actually wants to read the other fic, well, I’ll post it xD

I feel like such a shitty author… ALSO I may or may not have been watching Stray Kids “The 9″ season 5 and suddenly had an idea-

–—————

Other comments: So, uh, I think I’ve decided to completely scrap the aquarium headcannons altogether and I’m actually really sorry about it as it was the very first thing I started when thinking about Ikesen.

So I want to apologise once again to @wingardium-letmefuckyou and to everyone else who wanted to read the headcannons, but I truly have no idea how to write it…

….. Okay that’s enough from me, I guess! Here’s the long-awaited fic xD

——————————

“How many times have I told you not to call me a ‘Little Mouse’?!”

Your footsteps stormed against the floorboards as you made your way back to your room, leaving Mitsuhide to stare at your back and baffled at your outburst. Hands clenched in tight fists to your sides, you brushed past an equally (if not more) surprised Masamune before reaching your room and slamming the door shut.

“What just happened…?”

You were livid and that was something new. Usually and normally, you were rather docile and that was one of the many things that had initially attracted Mitsuhide to you. (Your inability to use violence was another, but that perhaps merely further worried him whenever Nobunaga brought you to the battlefield.) Nevertheless, your rambunctious yelling and anger had caught the attention of the many castle’s residents, including a particular mother-like warlord and the right-hand-man of their lord.

“How many times must I tell you to not make her-”

But the flickering expression on Mitsuhide’s face, one of rejection, caused Hideyoshi’s words to falter at the back of his throat. Simply speaking, the said caramel-haired warlord had forgotten just who Mitsuhide’s sole weakness was: You. And he could only sigh, placing a hand on your lover’s right shoulder comfortingly.

——–

It hurt.

It really did.

You weren’t sure what brought it up, nor the reasoning behind your anger, but there was nothing you could do anymore. You had lashed out at him, and that was that. To be fair, it was a lover’s spat of sorts- not that you and Mitsuhide got into that many. You would always come to an agreement of sorts; somewhere in between both your suggestions. More than often, it would be in regards to the time and dates of your… well, dates, so this would be the first time you had ever needed to compromise over the whole nicknames thing.

The truth was, you really didn’t mind what he called you. Yes, you were willing to admit, there were times where the nickname could be considered as condescending but you were also willing to admit that you were also naive in many different ways.

Huffing quietly, you plonked down on your still-unrolled futon and brought your knees to your chest. Your arms, however, had found it’s way to the covers you and he shared, pulling it up and over your nose.

You would be lying if you ever thought his scent didn’t calm you.

Sandalwood. Gunpowder. Cinnamon.

….Well, okay. Maybe the last one was impossible, granted you didn’t know exactly when cinnamon had arrived in Japan but the scent was there nonetheless.

But the pain, guilt and regret from your words was enough to send tears running down your face. Truly, you wished you hadn’t said what you had to him. It was his one day of relaxation; a day where he could fully spend time with you, the only woman he promised he would ever love.

And you’ve just gone and ruined it.

“(Y/N).”

You could hear Mitsuhide’s voice on the opposing side of the door through your somewhat quiet whimpers… Which meant, you had come to learn, he could also hear you. Stifling your sobs, you called out to your boyfriend, allowing him to enter the room. You burrowed your head in the covers, hoping you could hide your tears from him… Even if you knew it was simply impossible.

“My dear, will you look at me?”

Mitsuhide placed a gentle hand on your head, brushing your hair behind your ear and allowing the strands to glide through his fingers. The same fingertips made it’s way to the soft curve of your cheek and down to your hidden chin. His whole palm was on your cheek now, as he gently coaxed you from your hidden position behind the comforter. You abided, sinking into the touch of his warm hands as he gently wiped the hot tears from your cheeks.

“As observant as I am, I wasn’t aware you didn’t enjoy the nickname.”

Prick.

As prideful as the statement was, it succeeded in eliciting a giggle from your lips. Your hands found it’s way out of the blanket and began roughly wiping at your tears, laughing dejectedly at the situation.

“The thing is, I really don’t mind. Really.”

You shook your head, resting your damp forearms against your covered knees and your chin against your forearms. But he just knelt in front of your slightly rocking self, raising his other arm to fully cup your face. Gently placing his forehead against your own, his nose nudged against your own- a rare Mitsuhide Eskimo kiss.

Your eyes had instinctively closed on it’s own, allowing the final droplets of tears to escape the corners of your eyes.

One. Two.

Raising his forehead from your own, he pressed his lips against the corner of each eye.

Please don’t cry.

And again his head rose even further, pressing a slow, loving kiss against your forehead.

I love you.

When he finally removed his lips from your forehead, you rose, stumbling, as you regained the strength in your knees from the tight pull towards your chest. Expressionless, golden eyes watch your stance, offering a single hand when you stumbled. He pulled you towards him as you settled yourself in his lap; his legs now crossed before him.

“My love,” he utters, his low, silken voice soothing your trembling self, “had you truly despised the name, you would have informed me early on.”

Your head bobs up and down, agreeing quietly with his statement. Your arms wound itself around his neck, drawing him impossibly closer. And Mitsuhide could only chuckle, pressing another kiss against your left temple as he inhaled the scent of your hair.

“Now, apologies for the sudden curiosity, but I would like to know the terms of endearment men use in your time-”

His arms rested loosely around your waist, fingers clasped together at your spine. His thumbs however, had found that aching knot in the centre of your spine and pulsed gently to release the discomfort. Your lips fell into that of a content sigh, though he could still sense the racing of your pulse that only continued to rise as he continued to probe about your previous lifestyle.

Anything to hear your melodious voice, right?

But he was serious when he said he wanted to hear the terms of endearment lovers gave one another in your time. Changing names wasn’t a huge issue in his mind- people could easily be renamed, after all- but if this was what you truly desired, he would have no qualms in doing so.

After all, if his princess wasn’t happy, how could he be?

Whether or not you did mind what he called you, you responded to his question rather hesitantly. It had taken a few moments for the names to rise to your mind: You were never one to date often, preferring to seek for a ‘Mr. Right’ before going on a first date. But your friends certainly had been, and so you had recalled the various names your friends had called one another… The generic ones, of course.

Mitsuhide only hummed in response, listening closely to your words as you spoke. He would need to test these nicknames out later, gauge your responses, before continuing on.

And today seemed to be just perfectly set up for him.

————————–

“Mitsuhide, where are you taking me?”

It was a futile question, given the smart-looking grin and the sly look in his eyes as you watched him. It was a futile question, knowing just how stubborn your man could be when he wanted to tell you next to nothing… Or when he wanted to keep it a surprise. And it certainly was a futile question as the direction he was heading in was that same, well-trekked path you usually took to his- and now your own- favourite teahouse. Yet you asked it anyway, hoping for some kind of response; any kind of response from the man who wouldn’t give in unless ordered to.

Even then you just smiled innocently beside him, all signs of your earlier anger- whatever the cause had been- dissipating with the early Springtime breeze. Your smile caught the eyes of the Azuchi citizens, as did your linked hands and the same, slight upturn of Mitsuhide’s lips. Your relationship with Mitsuhide hadn’t exactly been made public to the citizens, but the pleased state of both yourself and he was enough to assume.

And though they found it difficult to trust him, the fact that you were happy was enough.

“Come now, sweetheart.”

Tripping, you swore you had heard him wrongly.

Say what now-?

“Babe, there’s not much longer before we’re there. Did you require any assistance-?”

But you had once again zoned out. Impossible.

Granted you had your suspicions from his earlier questioning, but for him to carry it out… Your giggles and that seemingly painful blush was enough for your lover to press a gentle kiss against your burning forehead with a chuckle.

“My my, Princess. Had I known I would receive such wondrous reactions, I would’ve interrogated you earli-”

You slapped a hand over his mouth as your lips overturned into a slight pout, prompting another chuckle vibrating from that broad chest of his. And before you decided to storm off embarrassedly, you prodded him once in the chest with your alternate hand.

“Damn you, you…. stupid enemy of mine!”

Baffled, Mitsuhide couldn’t comprehend the term. And though he had quickly come to a conclusion that you were highly embarrassed by the pet name, he couldn’t help but grin at the irony of the name you had called him.

‘My enemy’… How fitting…

————————–

“Nooo~… Stop calling me those nicknames already!”

You see, as much as you enjoyed being called these names, there was that dilemma you had foreseen: That furious blush you had first made appear on your face several days ago had not yet faded, thanks to the sudden change in nicknames, and now you were actively avoiding your boyfriend. Naturally, with a man like Mitsuhide and his string of spies, hiding yourself was near-impossible and so here you were in the middle of a War Council, ‘hiding’ yourself in Hideyoshi’s right shoulder- much to Mitsuhide’s chagrin.

Face also buried in your hands, you pressed your forehead against the green haori you made for Nobunaga’s right-hand man. The man in question, however, just reached over his shoulder with his left hand and ruffled your hair comfortingly while Masamune and Nobunaga remained curled in hysterics, though the latter was somewhat closer to Mitsunari’s giggles.

Somewhat.

Ieyasu’s mutters didn’t help either. As grumpy as he usually was, the mild ramblings of “What a waste of time” and “Foolish couples” only spurred on Masamune’s laughter, the latter having had the timely luck of positioning himself beside the porcupine-like male.

“But sugar,” Mitsuhide continued, grinning, “Seeing your face simply brightens my day! Won’t you show it to me?”

“Nooo~”

If anything, your face was now pressed almost painfully against Hideyoshi’s back. As for how out of character Mitsuhide was, both you and he could honestly care less. If there was just one thing you could choose at this moment in time, it would be for your lover to stop calling you those sugary-sweet nicknames he knew you would never become accustomed to.

“Come now, Mitsuhide,” Hideyoshi began, shaking his head with an unmissable frown, “Surely that’s enough teasing?”

And the said male just chuckled, agreeing with the rhetorical question as reaching over to coax you from your ‘hidden’ position with the brush of his fingers to your hair and nape.

“Princess? Will you accept this humble soul’s apology-?”

But if you had anything against it, it was lost to the pearls of laughter and your trembling shoulders from Mitsuhide’s words. Just what part of him had a ‘humble soul’ again? As far as you were concerned, he was the most unorthodox warlord of them all… In his own way. (You had to admit, all the warlords you knew were unorthodox in their unique way.) I mean, how often do you see warlords carry out tortures on their own will? How often do you see warlords tease the way he does?

Mitsuhide was everything but ‘a humble soul’.

“Mitsuhide- love-” you wheezed between breaths of laughter, “Stop. Just stop, okay?”

Slapping your knee, you had unknowingly and audibly labelled your lover with a pet name selected on your own- something only Mitsuhide knew to be a mistake of yours. (You had long claimed yourself to be unable to call him by any other name than his own, after all.) But the other warlords- luckily- hadn’t taken notice, only smiling gently at the sound of your laughter.

Yet you padded over anyway, lips still tilted upwards as a reminder of your earlier fit of giggles, landing gently in Mitsuhide’s lap.

“Welcome back, little mouse.”

Though you had chosen to sit across his lap (rather than in his lap), your arms were wrapped around his neck and your face hidden in his right shoulder. And if it weren’t for the relaxed sigh and your overly-warm breath, he would’ve imagined that crimson blush drifting against his chest as his arms wound around your own. The sigh was one of comfort, he supposed, running his fingers through your hair and untangling what was knotted. Was it perhaps something to do with that old nickname he had brought back?

Ah, he chuckled to himself, I suppose I should question that later. There are more pressing concerns here, after all.

When the warlords were finally dismissed from their posts- granted, with open laughter from Nobunaga at the speed Mitsuhide had exited the room- the golden-eyed kitsune made a beeline to your shared room carrying you princess-style. Sliding the door shut with a talented foot, he settled you down in the futon gently and joined you, sliding a large, calloused hand in your own smaller ones.

“Princess,” he greeted, pressing his lips against your intertwined hands, “Will you look at me?”

Reverting your gaze, your eyes met his own, glittering deep with thought.

“Will the princess grace me with her thoughts?”

Your lips curled into a smile as you stared at the ceiling in wonder. Sure, you were willing to share your thoughts with him, though you supposed some form of teasing was required after everything he had put you through that week.

“And why should I?”

Crossing your arms, you huffed in false irritation though the small upturn of your lips spoke wonders. Teasing him in return was all you had wished for, but your fox-eyed lover had caught sight of that grin, along with that strange sparkle in your eye of the telltale cheekiness. And he played along, intertwining his opposing hand with your own and pushing you gently down to the futon below. His lips fell upon your own, greedily kissing you breathless. Panting quietly as he slowly raised his head, he took note of the sweet blush that had once again made it’s way to the curve of your cheeks.

“I was just thinking about how I’d much rather hear your nicknames for me, rather than the ones from… Well, my time.”

Mitsuhide’s chest just rumbled as his laughter- a true one- echoed through the room and sat up, pulling you into his lap.

“Of course, princess. Anything you ask for, you’ll receive.”

Pressing his lips gently against your forehead, you hummed against his chest in satisfaction. You didn’t need any of that. Any item Hideyoshi or anything else someone had given you was easily replaceable- something you had long since learnt. But it was he, that handsome, fox-eyed man that took your breath away; both literally and figuratively. It was he who managed to steal the one thing you initially weren’t willing to give- your heart- and that, solely, was what made him irreplaceable.

“I’ll never need anything more than you.”

The gentle squeeze around your waist was more than enough to tell you how he felt.

——————-

Bonus:

“Hm… If I recall correctly, you once called me “an enemy”. Care to elaborate? Hm?”

Cackling, your head tilted backwards as you, too, recalled the event. It was unintentional but the so-called term of endearment had suddenly come forth from the depths of your memory, prompting you to announce him as so.

There was no way in hell you would tell him just where you had learnt the name though. That much would be far too confusing for someone who knew next to nothing of modern shenanigans.

“That,” you wheezed in between words, “is a Korean pet name translated directly to Japanese.”

As Mitsuhide’s eyes narrowed playfully from opposite the table, you held your hands up in mock surrender, backing away slowly as he stood.

“I didn’t mean it, I swear-”

But it was far too late. Long, pale and calloused had reached your sides, digging and poking gently as peals of precious laughter left your lips from his form of torture, left specifically for you. Your eyes were shut tightly as tears peered through the corner of your eyes, missing the joyful grin-cross-smile on Mitsuhide’s face.

“I- oh god- I yield! Mitsuhide! I- I yield!”

———————————–

And whether for the better or for the worse, every single time Hideyoshi would proclaim your lover to be a traitor, albeit using the term ‘enemy’, you would snicker quietly, only to soon send yourself into hysterics at the sight of Mitsuhide’s lips curled upwards in that same look of amusement.

And as usual, the warlords glanced at each other utterly perplexed at the sight.

Oh, if only the warlords knew why your laughter was so sweet.

#Ikemen Sengoku #Mitsuhide #My writing #oh god this is so late #T^T #I'm so sorry guys #Request

50 notes · View notes

justjessame · 4 years

Text

The Deal Chapter 3

Waking up in Daryl’s arms made the rest of the shitstorm of our day almost worth it. Almost because that was the day we all nearly REALLY died. We should have LISTENED to Dr. Jenner when he said the doors wouldn’t reopen. We should have listened to the tiny little voice in all our heads screaming that this was too easy, too safe, too good to be true. We didn’t, which is how we all nearly blew the hell up.

Thank God Dad had that fucking grenade. Thank God that Daryl can scare damn near anyone into opening most things up. And thank God that I wasn’t as stupid as Jacqui and Andrea. I think Dale’s made a horrible mistake saving Andrea. She wanted to die? Then let her. I don’t care what he sees in her. I see a problem that’s going to bite us all in the ass sooner or later.

After Dr. Jenner did a little audio visual of the virus that creates walkers, he basically tossed out the fact that the entire building was set to self destruct. The asshole did warn us not to come in, but still, my baby brother and Sofia shouldn’t have to deal with that kind of fucking fear. Wasn’t the fear of dying by a walker bad enough? Now they wouldn’t trust anyone. Asshole. Luckily we made it. With one that didn’t want to live, and a shit ton of us that did.

Daryl decided to ditch the truck, so it was the choice between curling my body tight against his on the bike, or the RV with whiny Andrea and Shane. Difficult choices. Riding away from the wreckage of the CDC, I clutched at Daryl’s hard abdomen and felt him twitch under my touch. “Does this bother you?” I asked in loud enough for him to hear me. My fingers tightened against him and I felt him inhale deeply. “Should I stop?”

“Only if you don’t want me to wreck us.” He laughed back at me. “Feels amazin’, Jess, but dying before we get to experience the entire thing might suck.”

I grinned into the wings on his vest. “I love you, Daryl Dixon.” I shouted, not caring if anyone heard, because we survived and had another day together.

“I love ya, too, baby girl.” He said back, weaving through the roads as we headed for whatever we’d come to next.

HOURS LATER~ CAR CLOGGED FREEWAY

What we came to next was a clogged highway with too many cars and not enough space for the RV to find a path. Daryl and I scouted ahead, must to my dad’s worry, but finding that we could move further was at least worth it.

We came back to relay the information and the decision was made to raid the cars for supplies before moving them out of the way. Of course a horde of the creepy crawlies found us. Carl, being sensible for his age, stayed put under the car Lori hid him under. Sofia, didn’t. Well, shit.

T-Dog had a horrible cut. Daryl was pissed off at the entire situation, and now Dad had run off to find Sofia. Daryl looked at me and I rushed to his side. “Should I go after them?” He whispered when I got close.

I shook my head. “No, Dad will come ask if he can’t find her.” I was sure of it. He’d been right behind her, so he should have found her and be out in minutes. The time ticked by and I was growing worried. I was about to tell Daryl that we should go in, when Dad came out-alone.

“Daryl?” He asked, and Daryl walked to him. I followed. “No, honey, not you.” I started to protest, but Daryl agreed. Well what the hell? “I need Daryl to track her. You need to stay here and keep everyone calm.” What about Shane, I thought.

“OK, Dad.” I looked at Daryl and wanted so badly to grab him and kiss him. And make him promise to stay safe and keep my dad safe. Instead I touched his hand. He nodded at me. “Stay safe.” It was a blanket statement, for the two of them. And then they disappeared back into the forest.

Carol was understandably upset, and Lori and Shane were tiptoeing around one another. I worked to keep everyone calm, and keep an eye on Carl. He was adamant that he should have a weapon, and I agreed with him. Just not on the type of weapon he wanted. He wasn’t ready for a gun, I told him, not yet. Why not find something stabby? And he nearly got eaten to find one. Then Lori and Shane argued about whether he could keep one or not. For fuck’s sake.

A full night and no Sofia. Dad and Daryl returned, Daryl checking on Carol in the RV and trying to maintain some kind of certainty in the uncertainty. I’d found a spacious minivan and when I tucked the seats down, I had a pretty decent bed. I grabbed my sleeping bag from the Jeep Dad was driving and made a nice little bed. I figured Daryl would keep his distance, since Dad and Lori were sleeping nearby, but he surprised me, tapping on the window as I was looking at the stars through the open sunroof. I smiled and opened the hatchback.

“Thought I’d join ya for a bit.” He whispered, crawling inside and over top of me. “Feels like forever since I’ve kissed ya.” His lips met mine and I sighed in agreement.

Soon the van was steamed up, even with the opening in the roof. I was clutching at his back, his mouth hungry against mine. God in heaven, if I died like that, I would have died happy. He pulled back, too soon for my liking, and smiled down at me. Even sweaty and dirty from the road and the swamp, he was the most gorgeous thing I’d ever seen.

“Ya don’t honestly think our first go is gonna be in a minivan, do ya?” He chuckled and rolled off of me to lay beside me. He pulled me against him, so he could hold me again. “Nah, girl, our first time’s gotta be memorable.”

I giggled. “Pretty sure every time will be memorable with you, Daryl.” My head was in the crook of his arm and I felt his lips on my forehead. “What do you have planned for our first time?” I asked, wanting a better version of a bedtime story.

He sighed and shifted so we were face to face. “Our first time should be under the stars.” He whispered, brushing my errant hair away from my face. “Cause they’re the only thing that can compare to how beautiful you are to me.” I smiled, who knew he had a poet’s heart? “So, somewhere with soft grass, even with this damn sleepin’ bag I want ya to have some cushion under ya. A cool breeze, because you’re skin and mine, together, feels like fire.” I nodded, swallowing at the picture he was painting for me. “And I want to see all of ya. Every tiny bit, and I want ya to see me. We’ll need a full moon for that.” I was drifting off as he continued. “We’re gonna need a long night, cause I don’t wanna have to stop for the sunrise.”

I woke up alone and groaned. I hated this nonsense. I heard the others talking outside, so I refolded my bag and tossed it back inside the Jeep. Stretching I felt his eyes on me. I looked up and sure enough, he was standing with Dad, but watching me like he would prey. I smiled and walked over to join them.

Dad kissed my temple almost absently, but included me in the planning. Everyone was searching today. Grid search, I asked, and he confirmed. OK, I thought, we’d all participated in one of those back home. Even Carl had, because Dad was absolutely certain every hand on deck meant every hand on deck. Once everyone had a part, me with Daryl thank God, we started off. T-Dog and Dale were staying back, to work on the RV and to keep an eye on things. Andrea, gun toting idiot, was giving Dale sass for saving her, sass for refusing her gun rights, and sass for everything that her life didn’t offer. I rolled my eyes.

Shane, Dad, and Carl were together and I was worried. That wasn’t a good idea. Not even close. When we heard the pealing of the bells, everyone’s hope grew. It wasn’t what we’d hoped for, the church held nothing but dead inside and an electronic timed bell outside. After we killed the dead and Daryl checked things out, Carol took a moment to get right with God, I thought about how my life could have been if the world hadn’t turned to shit.

Would I have met Daryl? Would our paths have ever crossed? I would have been attracted to him, of that I was certain. Every girl has a type, right? Well, he was definitely mine. I hadn’t dated much, remember I had to fight for summer camp, but when I had, there was a certain roughness to the guys I preferred. Men who weren’t afraid to get their hands dirty. Men who could hold their own anywhere, but also had a softer side. Sure, I was usually one of the few who could see that side, but knowing it was there was enough. So, Daryl would have been my type no matter what, but would we have met? I glanced up at Jesus on the cross and felt the most peace I’d felt for months. And that was my answer. Yes. We would have.

I met everyone outside as we waited for Carol. Shane, my dad, and Carl were going further on, but the rest of us were heading back to the vehicles and preparing for what comes next. Daryl and I rolled our eyes at Andrea’s bitchiness toward Lori having a gun when she didn’t, and I nearly high-fived my stepmom when she offered it to her and told everyone off for being irritable with Dad. I agreed with her, and dared Andrea to come at me.

“If you’d stop being so pissed about being alive,” I glared at the blonde, “you’d realize that you can totally die out here, all alone, and I’d happily leave your ass laying.” I offered, raising my bow as I felt Daryl’s hand on my arm.

She glared back at me and stomped off back in the direction we’d started from. Bitch. Lori looked at me like I was a stranger, but you know what? I didn’t care. We had enough trouble without a bitch with a death wish. Daryl and I kept the group moving and he tried to keep me calm. I was tired of it. Her attitude with Dale, her irritation with the rest of us. And why? Because she was useless in this world? Well, fuck you and toughen up. I kept going, eyes alert even if I was angry. I felt Lori come up beside me, but before she could say a word we heard the gunshot. Fear clutched my heart, a chill ran up my spin and I prayed that I wouldn’t lose one of my family members.

We waited a beat, before Daryl had us crossing a meadow, then a woman appeared on a horse with a baseball bat screaming Lori and my names. We looked up at her as Daryl held her in his sights on the crossbow. She was making little sense, but we heard Dad’s name and Carl’s then Lori climbed on the horse and I ran beside it. I glanced back at Daryl and I knew he understood. My family needed me. God, please don’t take them.

#The Walking Dead #daryl dixon x ofc #rick grimes daughter #eventual smut #slight au #angst

8 notes · View notes

not-safeforsanders · 5 years

Text

Moment’s Silence

“Who view this deed as power’s creed,

is pure authority

a moment’s silence when my baby puts her mouth

on me,”

-Hozier, Moment’s Silence (Common Tongue)

Warnings: Exhibitionism? Ish? nsfw, nonbinary sexes (personal headcanon that Fae can manipulate their sex to whatever suits them at the moment) nonbinary character with a preference for male pronouns

Ship: Moxiety

Plot: Patton had been dodging the topic since he’d met the wonderous Human, afraid that his powers may sway something from Virgil that he wasn’t ready to give. But Virgil has a mind of his own, and it’s already made up.

Virgil loves Patton. It’s a simple enough statement to make when it’s true, and a sentiment shared by almost anyone that comes in contact with the bouncy young fae. He’s beautiful and terrifying. If there’s any one way Virgil likes his men it is that sequence, except Patton only becomes terrifying in the forest, that’s where his powers are at it’s best.

Yet right now, Patton is the one who looks scared, wringing his thin wrists as he thinks cautiously, around him the forest seemed to listen to his silent troubles as Virgil waits patiently for his response. “I’m worried,” The fairy finally sighs, pale lips whispering in a way that’s reminiscent of a gentle breeze through the trees. “I’m worried I might be forcing you, that...that my magic is making you...” He trails off as if the rest of that sentence is too horrific for him to say.

“The fact that you worry is a big enough indicator that you’re not making me, I know some powers are out of your control but...but I know that this is what I want,” A resigned yet comforted sigh ghosts over Patton’s lips as he nuzzles against his partner, his Human, affectionately. The action disturbs the crown of flowers that grow from his skull, and Virgil catches a fallen petal in his palm “I promise,”

The smaller smiles up at Virgil, pale grey irises wide as his long eyelashes flutter, he leans up to kiss him whilst his bony hands drift up Virgil’s arms. Patton looks pale in comparison to anyone, in winter his only competition is the snow. His wings flutter a little with excitement, flower petals falling from the flowers that grow in the folds where his wings meet his back.

He’s full of flowers, Virgil thinks dreamily, the same way he had on the first day he met Patton; he’d never seen someone look so beautiful before. The fae had sat in a ring of roses as they colored themselves to the sunlight, ivy had twisted around his ankles, and thorns had been looping around his wrists. He’d been in such a bad mood that day, but still looking so beautiful. His flowery little angel, well, a demon would probably be more accurate.

As the young fairy takes his hand and leads him, Virgil can feel daisies trying to intertwine around their wrists as they grow from Patton’s skin. He smiles to himself as he’s lead away amongst the trees to a small clearing. “We will be safe here,” Patton hums, a hand pressed to his chest as the trees outstretched their arms and build a protective wall around them.

“I’m always safe with you,”

A giggle echos from the elder’s lips as he blushes “I do hope so, at least,” He beams, his hands drifting up Virgil’s sides before their lips press together again. Virgil pulls Patton closer, his arms wrapping around his thin waist whilst the shorter whines against his lips and arches against him. The elder waves an elegant hand and a blanket falls from the trees to the ground. They both stumble to the ground as Patton’s hands drift up his lover’s shirt, legs straddling his lap as he presses down against the other “You’re so pretty, maybe I’m the one who is enchanted after all,”

“Lies,” Virgil teases, a joke, Patton couldn’t lie even if he wanted too. Sharp teeth nibble at his bottom lip, eliciting a small gasp from him that is easily swallowed in the other man’s grasp. Virgil feels different, from all the other times he had done this with other people, people who were not gifted by mother nature herself. There’s heat under his skin and a tension rippling through his muscles, as Patton grinds down against him, shocks like electricity flow through him. “How are you doing that?”

“Just your mind,” Is the cryptic response he gets, but Virgil doesn’t pay it much mind, instead he rolls his hips up against the other’s as Patton starts to undress him, pulling him up to slide his jacket down his shoulders and shirt over his head. The fairy’s movements are fluid, skilled, nimble fingers pulling at clothing until Virgil is lying back against the ground, naked. Patton settles back into his lover’s lap, grinding himself against the other before lowering himself onto his cock, as his dress bunches around his thighs. A quiet moan slips over the Human’s mouth as he feels how wet the other is and how easily he takes him, a sharp stab of pride as he listens to a creature so powerful whimper and moan because of him.

Patton rolls his hips, hands settling on Virgil’s chest as he moves, curls falling into his eyes over his rose-tinted glasses, quiet noises of pleasure making themselves known in the silence of the clearing. The forest seemed to still for them, the whistle of the breeze and rustle of leaves seeming suddenly quiet in their own pleasure. Virgil’s hands rest on Patton’s hips, thrusting up into him as back arches and his head tilts back, eager to feel as much as possible.

And the Fae man can feel so much at once, shuddering a little as Virgil’s fingers trail under his dress to toy with his clit. Just like that, he’s reduced to a whimpering mess, his pale skin flushing red and sharp teeth gritting at the overwhelming amount of sensation he’s receiving at once.

The build-up is long, panting and uttering sweet little things to each other, Patton has forgotten now how many times Virgil has told him how beautiful he is, how much he loves him. He decides that, yes, this is real, it’s not just his magic that has accidentally leaked into Virgil’s brain. Virgil loves him. A Human loves a creature such as himself.

He can feel Virgil’s energy, can feel it building, and Patton is slowly losing control as he tries desperately to keep his head. He whimpers Virgil’s name, sharp nails running along the Human’s skin as all that energy ripples.

Virgil gasps a little, almost stunned out of his own orgasm as wave-like wind ripples through the clearing, leaving behind a trail of flowers that start to break through the surface of the earth, the trees seem to cocoon them in their own bubble as Patton’s head bows, face twisted in pleasure. The younger groans, spilling inside of the Fae man with a dazed expression crossing his face, leaning back against the ground.

“Oops,” Patton whispers when he finally manages to sit up straighter, looking around at the protective circle of flower beds he’d managed to accidentally grow. “I didn’t mean to do that, I really need to get better control of myself,” He giggles a little, the flowers in his hair are in shades of pink and red and yellow, Virgil feels like something is blooming in his chest.

“I love you,” He mutters and Patton’s expression goes soft, leaning down to kiss him.

“I love you too,”

#not safe for sanders

92 notes · View notes

ashleyswrittenwords · 4 years

Text

How to be a Queen [Part 14]

Summary: Princess Zelda is at a loss. Her handed royal responsibilities have begun to weigh heavily on her and she is eventually backed into a corner. Live a life she loathes or run away from everything she’s ever known? Navigating life is hard, and Link forces her to learn that she doesn’t have to do it alone.

Warning: Nothing to mention.

Part 1

How To Be A Queen

I woke up to warmth that morning.

The kind of heart that makes you ball up tightly to greedily gain more. It starts from the outside and burrows within to warm the heart without being too intense that you want to stray away from the source. With a sleepy nonsensical mumble, I pushed myself deeper into the covers and felt them tighten around me like a cocoon. This is what divinity must feel like.

Against my will, the world slowly felt more real as the sleep slipped off of my subconscious. An odd feeling of being in my bed in Castle Town dissipated as the ground below felt more like a stone slab than a feather stuffed mattress. Then, the sheets around my waist loosened and the warmth slowly faded. My forehead creased in annoyance.

The sound of shifting reached my ears and I roused awake. From the makeshift bed on the ground, I rubbed my eyes and watched Link pack away our belongings. Golden crests cut into the horizon. There was less snow on the ground than the days prior and it gave me hope to remember the place we were heading towards.

“Good morning,” I said scratchily. My eyes were still adjusting, but Link being the first thing I saw today was still rewarding. I doubted I would ever get used to it. He took the blanket from the horse’s back and was folding it, his gaze more on me than the cloth.

Suddenly, I felt self-conscious under his quiet observing. His eyes were vacant, drawn in and thoughtful. I sat up. “Do you need help?”

Link seemed to snap out of his trance and looked away momentarily, “No. No, I’ve got just about everything. You can go back to sleep, it’s still early.”

I sharply gasped as I ripped the blanket from body and the morning chill robbed me of the rest of the heavenly warmth. My coat dangled from Link’s grasp and I tore it from him.

“Tired of the cold already?” He snickered.

I resented the comment, but gladly slipped the coat on. There wasn’t much said between up as we packed our gear and smoldered what was left of the fire. Link helped me onto the horse and paused. I looked at him questionably.

“Let me see your hand.”

I complied, putting mine neatly in his. The bandages were unbloodied this time and my wrist was less bruised. That is to say, it was still an ugly sight. The skin around it was brown and discolored, but it wasn’t as painful.

He tenderly moved my hand upward, bending my wrist and watching my reaction. I swallowed a wince. “We can probably remove the sutures soon. The cuts weren’t too deep. I only hope that the scars will heal if there are any.”

Link let go and took the reins. I examined it on my own, “Scars aren’t bad. Plenty of people have scars.”

The mare started forward as Link did. He looked back at me, an indistinguishable look on his face, “I’d prefer you not have any at all.”

“How boring,” I yawned. “When do you think we’ll be there?”

“A couple days’ time. Once we pass through Hyrule Field it should start getting warmer,” Link said, “We can probably pawn off the coats for extra money and get more suitable outfits for the climate.”

“Do you…” I paused, tracing the upside of my hand, “Do you suppose we could stop at the Temple of Time?”

There was a slight tremor in my voice and I covered it up with a cough.

“Hey,” he started. “I go wherever you go, right?”

Link grinned and I matched it. His eyes stayed on mine for a moment before focusing on the road. I watched him as he walked, resting my elbows on the saddle and my chin in my hands. His heavy coat was resting in his hands and with Link’s back to me, I studied him. He was thumbing something over in his left hand. “Have I ever told you how thankful I am for you?”

The blond man didn’t both turning, “Probably, but it doesn’t hurt to keep reminding me.”

“Well, I am. Very much so.”

His broad shoulders jolted up to symbolize a laugh. I had seen plenty of men. And though that statement wasn’t a proud one, it was true. Suitors were a commodity that wasn’t hard to come by. Father had many advisors that pushed out invitations to dukes, lords, and princes of neighboring kingdoms to socialize with their barren princess. All walks of life had passed through the castle gates and on all accounts it was an awkward affair. I hadn’t a clue who they were and many were decades my senior. Regardless, I felt like I had a decent grasp on the male sex. Due to this, I was sure that Link was objectively beautiful.

Objectively.

An objective statement for anyone with eyes and a male attraction.

A flush crept up my neck as I observed the muscles under his shirt move. What kind of scars does he have? I gulped down my urges and with a hardened will battened down my feelings into a place far removed from the present. This wasn’t… proper.

Right. Proper.

The ride was long and repeating and I constantly wondered how he knew the way. The trees blended into a seamless scenery. It was evident that not many liked to travel in the winter because it was rare we’d pass a couple traders in a day. I had long given up on veiling myself from others on the offset that they’d recognize me. Despite the attempt to comb my hair, it had long turned into a long-tangled mess that I tied up to the base of my head. Stray strands hung to frame my face and I let myself let go to the traveling conditions. Not that there was much of a choice.

Night had fallen and the air was warmer than ever before. The looming cliffs of The Great Plateau was just nearing, and you could see it in the horizon. Now, the sun had long set and Link had managed to kindle a fire.

It was dark now and the only light sources were the fire and the stars themselves. A bottle of alcohol sat beside us and I flinched as he poured it onto my fingers. “I’m sorry,” Link muttered. His eyes were just as intense as the smell. He held a pair of small tweezers in his hand and my hand was in his. Our legs were partially tangled together as he pulled me closer to gain a better look.

“Are you alright? You seem uncomfortable,” Link whispered, looking worried.

I shook my head slightly, “I’m nervous.”

“That’s normal. You’ll feel slight pressure and maybe a pinch. It shouldn’t be painful, Zel. I promise,” he switches his attention to the sutures. Goddesses, I hated the sight. It wasn’t pleasant to see bloodied reinforced thread sticking out of your skin.

The metal of the tweezers was cold against my skin and I watched Link’s face instead of the stitch being cut. He was focused, his face relaxed but his mouth drawn in a fine line. It wasn’t painful, at most uncomfortable when he pulled the suture free. Eventually, he switched to my pointer finger.

“Okay?” He looked up shortly.

I nodded, “Okay.”

His bowed head wasn’t far from mine and his hair hung in front of his face. As he clipped away at the threads, I reached up with my opposite hand and smoothed the hair back. It wasn’t long enough to tuck behind his ear, but this would do. Link looked up, his brow forming the question in his mind.

“I’m helping,” I said indignantly, keeping my hand steady on his head. It was difficult to distinguish if that was the true reason or if it was merely a chance to touch him. The excuse seemed to satisfy him and he went back to his work. It didn’t take long to finish.

“There. it’s not perfect,” he sighed and leisurely threw the excess bandages and the sutures into the fire. My hand dropped from his forehead. Thin pink lines dotted my fingers where the incisions were. “Looks fine to me,” I said.

“I still want you to see a doctor when we get closer to Gerudo Town. Maybe they’ll have something to lessen the scars and a proper brace for your wrist.” Link seemed to talk more to himself while he busied himself with accounting for what was in our small emergency kit, rummaging shortly before drawing it shut and placing it with the rest of our belongings.

I eyed the alcohol bottle, “What kind is that?”

He looked up at me, to the bottle and back with a raised eyebrow, “Some local liquor.” We had gotten it from a passing trader and apparently pure alcohol was difficult to come by, so it was the next best thing. I had never drunk straight liquor before nor anything close to it. The only types of alcohol I had associated myself with was ricewine and champagne.

“Ouch, oof,” I gave him a pained look, “Ow, my wrist. It hurts. Guess I need something to take the edge off.” I shrugged, watching him as I reached for the neck of the bottle. He looked lazily back with his head propped on his knee. Link looked amused, “To take the edge off? Where’d you hear that from?”

“None of your business,” I pursed my lips. In all honesty I wasn’t sure. Most likely my uncle.

He looked cheeky. “Why do you feel the need to make excuses to me?”

I frowned, “I don’t.”

The glass liquor bottle wasn’t too big and it was unlabeled. It was dark and the smell was just as strong. I brought the opening to my lips and lifted the bottle. Once the liquor touched my tongue, I wrenched it away and winced harshly as it burned in my mouth. With a strong gulp, I forced it down my throat with a vehement shake to my head.

“I hate it. I hate it,” tears formed in my eyes, “Hylia above, I hate it.”

Link laughed heartily and took the bottle. “Did it take the edge off?”

“Shush,” I glowered, wiping my eyes with my shirt. “I just wanted to try it.”

“The man probably just came from the Gerudo region. Drinks usually get stronger the closer you get,” he said, taking a generous swig. Link winced slightly, though not having much of the reaction as I had. “That’s pretty bad.”

“You talk like you have experience,” I said laying on my back to get a closer look at the stars. They were brighter tonight. The full moon was rising, casting a white glow on the sky. “Oh, yes,” he laughed breathily and followed by lying down beside me. I pushed down the happiness I felt as he continued to speak, “Years of diligent training for this moment.”

“Is that right?”

“Mmhm, this very moment.”

“And how’s that going for you?”

“Eh,” he shrugged, “Could be worse.”

A series of giggles erupted from me and I held onto my stomach. Calming down only to smile at him. “You’re impossible.”

Link smiled back, his eyes looking for something. Then a flash of worry crossed him, “Is your wrist alright, though?”

“It’s fine, Link,” I smiled wider at his concern. “I was being dramatic.”

“Oh, good,” he let his head fall back to look at the sky. “Good.”

I grabbed the bottle from him and sat up slightly. The next sip wasn’t as bad because I knew what to expect, but it was still awful. The liquor burned like fire down to my stomach and laid back down.

“Hey, Link?”

He seemed to keep up in terms of drinking, “Hm.”

“Can I tell you something?”

“Only if you want to tell me,” he coughed into his elbow.

“And you won’t freak out?”

Link turned to look at me and I met his eyes. “Depends.”

The need to talk filled my mind. To talk about things I wasn’t supposed to. His eyes were prying, already figuring out what I was going to say before my lips voiced it. Link always did that, and I wondered how right he tended to be. It felt… strangely intimate. My lungs filled with air and I slowly breathed out, “I… well, my father is convinced that there is a prophecy that a force from a thousand years ago will come back and soon.”

I watched his reaction and that indistinguishable look was back. “Okay.”

“Okay?” I couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s all?”

“Is that all you wanted to say?”

“N-no.”

He rested his arms under his head and sat waiting, “I’m listening.”

I spoke slowly, nervously. My fingers squeezed down on my right palm. “Impa and Father are convinced that I have some kind of powers from the Goddess that could fight off whatever it is.”

“You?”

My voice came out meek, “Yes.”

“Do you believe that?” His face didn’t give away whatever he was thinking, which was annoying in this situation. It would be helpful to know if he thought I was speaking rationally or a raving lunatic.

“Maybe? I don’t know. It started at Mum’s funeral. They swore they saw light coming from my hand and… at that age who else was I supposed to believe? I was convinced, but ever since then there was nothing. They told me to pray, I did. They told me to study the ancient texts, I did. Eventually I gave up,” I spoke into the air, “It took up so much time that I forgot how to live properly. There’s been no goddess to speak to me. No calamity had happened. I just… this sounds crazy doesn’t it?”

“I pulled the Master Sword at seventeen,” Link said nonchalantly.

I bolted up, “You what?!” My head spun. I knew my tolerance was low, but this was unbelievable.

“How… what… how? Why don’t… where is it? Really?” My words flew from my mouth unintelligibly.

Link peered up, staring at me. A thin smile played on his lips at my reaction. “The King suggested it. They dropped me off at the Lost Woods with a torch and a couple days’ worth of food and left. And, well, I found it.”

“It’s real?” I breathed, sitting back down lamely.

“And rather bulky if you ask me.”

“Where is it? I mean, you never brought it with you.”

He grew uncomfortable and awkwardly laughed, “Under my bed at the castle.”

“Why didn’t I know about this? It’s a rather important detail, Link,” I laid back down on my side, now frustrated.

“I only know that they didn’t want it to be a public fiasco. I don’t know much about that,” he gazed at me, unfolding his arms so our eyesight was even. “I apologize, I should have told you.”

“You didn’t know to tell me,” I brought my heads up, grasping them together. “Do you think it’ll happen? That prophecy? I-I mean, this is a lot. If someone pulled the sword then that means there’s a reason. I’ve read it time and time again. Every time Hyrule faces some type of calamity that stupid sword appears.” And all this time I had convinced myself it was just a fable. From the prophecy to the sword to even the Triforce. I sunk further into my position in the grass, reeling.

“I have as much of a clue as you do. Do you want to know what I really think?” Link was closer than before and the smell of liquor was on his lips. I nodded slightly and he took my right hand gingerly. “I think that,” he placed my hand between his own, “you - Zelda, the princess of Hyrule – are strong, powerful, and undeniably resilient when it comes to what you believe in. If anyone had to rise to the occasion of protecting Hyrule, then I’m sure happy it’s you.”

His fingers traced a triangle on the upside of my palm, “Whether you have the help of Hylia or not.”

Then, he pressed his lips against my hand. My breath hitched. Link’s lips were chapped and warm. The doubt I felt for myself withered and all my thoughts were suddenly preoccupied with the man who laid next to me. And just as quick as it happened, he dropped my hand and left mumbling something about firewood. He left me alone with the ghost of his kiss.

#legend of zelda #legend of zelda: breath of the wild #loz #zelink #zelink fanfiction #fanfiction #how to be a queen #htbaq

16 notes · View notes

zanyanimalstechnologytaco · 4 years

Text

My Hero Academia, the series, the fan media, the community all was a mistake of our time

I hate this show. More than Naruto and more than Fairy Tail. I hate Izuku, I hate Kstsuki, I hate how everyone and everything is just being forced to like everything about them, I hate All Might, I hate the Hero Association, I hate how light hearted and shallow arcs end. And I hate how things ended up with my once favorite character, his ship and everything I ever expected to be better became much worse and theres no male based fan media to or communities that allow my project myself in shouto anymore, seriously hes manly than "Cant stop Sparkling" guy now adays based on all the fan stuff he has about being with deku.

Todomomo was a mistake and Todoroki is a mistake. All bnha ships are unholy and wrong. Bnha is all shallowness and impure GARBAGE. I used to love bnha and was a big todoroki fan. But the more I invested through time in this character, the more i felt alone and isolated from the fandoms intention on shouto being bland fangirl fuel, the more I felt more distant from the character and not even the manga supports my reasons to invest in todoroki whom hori treats like the most shoehorned false hype emo in the show. And that offends me deeply, you got all these characters and the ones that you are expected to take seriously (and live through vicariously) are the most important characters in the show. Deku, Bakugou, All Might, Mineta, Kirishima and even Endeavor are these character and he obviously builds up there hidden character development in abilities and progression, shouto still struggles with his own personal development and is basically the same as he started with the added bonus of jobbing.

Oh and all the hype about him being cool and attractive, just irrelevant blanket statement extra tidbit filler, nothing meaningful but to make shouto explained why hes special, I prefer it if the story elaborates this by "showing" it, which the author just skims through with him and hand waves consistancy with contradiction in other following scenes making him seem like a weaker/dumber from before(ex. Fighting Festival(shouto a top tier student in every respect according to deku) to Stain Fight(Shouto is nothing but quirk reliant) according to Stain). Strongest quirk wise, this is all he has for him but even hes not even the most talented or intelligently trained with it, which makes me wonder of all shouto is just a blanket statement based character that just meant to exist to explore how insignificant he is with all his power and advantages compared to the main duo and other coming of age based events involving the cast. Even his father represents this more than his son.

Todomomo seems to relate to this, but its meaningless, just like everything else shouto has been portrayed by fans, based on how much the author puts his narrative into play which is also meaningless in the grander context of the story. Why make momo and shouto work together in the first place only to not build that relationship in future developments.

That pairing I hate(todomomo), I didnt hate in the beginning only to me because it was the only humanizing aspect todoroki had not related to his family and later the forced shoehorned dynamic with deku and bakugou, it made sense because the two are socially awkward people despite their supreme standing in the class and as first years and yet they both encourage each other by standing firm to overcome their own lack of socialization skills to grow as ideal people and improve socially, which seems to be working for momo now not shouto who's still the brooding loner elitist type(only has friends with elitist characters like friends too) . Now it's a husk and a relic of a potential investment in shoutos own story, I dont give a damn anymore, shoutos has no real anticipating developments to compel him to me, his quirk is boring as fuck since it's just a shooting targeting spammer, he isnt a good character to entertain me from a personal way, he really is a broken record of the same issues with a new idea, his family outside of endeavor and overcooked guy is more boring than him, and god I hate him with deku and bakugou which gives me more a reason to not bother with anything about him specifically since they will always overshadow him as story narrative and progress development narrative types, and I hate those two more. They are really just stand ins as horikoshi escapist fantasies, and both of them get more attention than any character as narratives who pretty much get the most attention in doing the most awesome feats and accomplishments as main roles. The new movie was about that. Shoutos accomplishments center around how he plays second fiddle to that basically instead of exploring the potential of being a pure equal to deku and bakugou, he gets the second in command villains or does something less than them in battles they already excell at in quirk control.

It's all worthless, shouto should not be this popular anything, and eventually this reflects in the popularity polls recently, which I noticed in the west from the previous one, shouto was less recieved by a significant margin compared to the main leads as a third place holder, maybe it shows me that todoroki is losing favor slowly, it makes sense, the author is not doing anything with him that makes people catch interest with the plot about strong heroes and villains getting more relevant as major players, while hes stronger than most the class but not plot relevant with his strength like deku has. Bakugou is like just like deku since the plot focuses on his strength to and is naturally stronger than Shouto via being the more badass and more aggressively driven he gets and thus gets as strong if not stronger and more skilled than shouto out of sheer plot armor. Shouto is just getting hotter and cold, bigger and more raw and unrefined in his power, so he has to control it which is still not as grand as bakugous perfect skills and genius and deku grander scaling in brains and brawn. If I were to make a guess, shouto is just going to to be behind them both as a stronger quirk user eventually and more about being a defensively capable than battle capable like kirishima and ochako, fitting for a major yet minor character, which disappoints me even more since shouto can be more battle creative than both of them if the author didnt have a bias in making deku and bakugou better than him despite having a stronger quirk.

God I hate this series. Theres no likable characters that are relatable or even human, there all shallow power and fanservice fantasies, the only character in class 1s that acts less cartoonish and serves as a stand in audience Surrogate is jirou and tail guy, but they are all about being generic looking compared to the unrealistically attractive guys and girls, the looney toon designed comic relief, and the recycled shonen trope cast. But if anything shouto represents all these shallow functions the most, and it's made him a less than a character too, it made him a sellout fan appeal type with no credibility as a character, which is why men dont like him due to not showing much concern to connect to him as a human narrative, at least the characters compared to him are showing why they(despite acting like shallow cliches) are interesting characters to care about, shoutos thing is telling about how tragically sympathetic his character needs to be as the only important thing about him, not as a part of him as a character to endear towards while he grows and helps build up a leading narrative with his development. His story doesnt help any part of the main lead or rivals growth, or his class, or his own personal objectives for his goals as a hero(being like all might and surpassing all might is a all purpose blanket statement to keep him near deku and bakugou as a power hype, not a individual self defined person). Dragging out objectives(season 1: being anti endeavor on surpassing all might which in the end pledges to learn not to do that and become better, season 2.Learning from the festival and from then on to being able to take endeavors legacy and take his training seriously which compared to deku and bakugou isnt enough to show much, Season 3. Promises to make people depend on him, doesnt happen since hes still the unapproachable person people in his class know him for. Season 4. Still makes promises hes gonna be a dependable hero, still accept his fire side, still be his own hero, things he repeats and fails to attempt because hori is lazy or just doesnt care about showing how much hes changed compared to his mary sue duo. etc) that dont happen and are inconsistent with new story details is why shouto is dead to me. High expectations about him are problematic since the author has agendas that don't involve story relevancy about him compared to the actual leading roles, plus the fan reception helps effect how I feel about shouto to, hes not even popular enough to have drawn pornagraphy with most all the girls and high quality momo hentai fanservice artists and circles, fucking mineta and your average joe otaku faceless male is more likely than shouto instead. That's how much the value shouto means to anyone than just a fangirl targeted audience which is just gay or bishi equivalent to sasuke fanworks and the feminine answer to male targeted audiences of characters like deku, bakugou and mineta, the worst and most common types of shonen stock characters in the series.

I hope this series and all the fans get tired of this shit when it gets eventually cancled. Or maybe it has. I dont really keep up with it anymore.

#shouto todoroki #rant #thisseriessucks #yamamotodoujinisthereason #my hero academia #peoplestopsupportingthisseries #boku no hero academia

1 note · View note

spacemilkies · 5 years

Text

pairing: arthur morgan x modern!reader

summary:

the one where dreams aren’t what you make them,

in fact, they’re quite irrevocably the opposite.

everyone talks about changing the past for a brighter future,

but what are you willing to gamble to make a difference?

l | lll

In a very short amount of time, you’d managed to exhaust yourself mentally and physically. It was becoming abundantly clear that dreams were not as flexible as many made them out to be.

After strain and stress, you tried aimlessly to will away your whims and not the slightest feature gave to your demands.

Somehow you remained in your state of dress and even more unfortunately, you’d been unable to strip a single garment from your cowboy.

It was becoming easier to swallow how this might just be a nightmare after all.

Likely the only thing you were going to be able to.

Clothed and apparently more time sensitive than you were, the man whom you’d come to appreciate by the scruff of his beard, was adamant on uprooting you further then just the floor.

You’d resisted at first when he wanted to lead you out of the house. It had only been a fleeting amount of time, or as best as you were able to reason, but it was your only comfort thus far.

It certainly beat risking whatever elements out there.

Your ‘savior’, as you liked to put lightly was beginning to show signs of irritation, however, as he pulled insistently at your joined hands.

And in a childish show of defiance, you leaned back in objection.

Feisty and annoying were clearly painted on a thin dividing line.

“Look, girl, I don’t have the time. I’ve got other people to look after.”

Bordering on hypothermic, there was little argument to be had that would be convincing on your part. But to not cry out against the prospect of galavanting off with a stranger would breach some sort of violation against nativity. Your core temperature had risen enough degrees to at least factor in some common sense.

“Where are you taking me?”

Even in your disagreement, he’d managed to get you near the threshold before answering. The slow drag of movement was almost preferable to the effort it would have taken to walk there properly.

His voice cracked under the fight against the elements,“A place like this is something we need. So I got to get back to them, to bring ‘em here.”

The spiral of possibilities were too endless got you to grasp coherently as you stood shaking under the weight of them all. With no control and little information, leaving your one ‘safe’ space didn’t feel like the most plausible strategy.

“Wait- were coming right back? Why don’t I just stay-”

Before you could register why he was bending at the knee, he had an arm around yours and had you thrown over his shoulder in the next second. Your head complained louder than your voice as the hazy feeling complied to the weight of a bounder against your skull.

“Oh, god, I think I’m going to throw up.”

That was a lie. It felt as if you hadn’t eaten in days.

It was impossible not to admire his strength as he carried you almost effortlessly, the broad of his shoulder acting like adult heating pack. “We are in need of shelter and I don’t think you would survive long enough for me to return. So yes, we’ll be back.”

Your body sung uselessly as he made the first sunken step into the snow. Everything after that was a series of crunches as the little cabin began to distance itself. As it turned out, it wasn’t solely just a cabin. The further you were away, the more buildings began to appear until a small town of sort rose.

It somehow managed to look aged without necessary years to degrade. The wooden structures looked sturdy but it lacked the reinforcement you knew to be standard in most homes. Even wooden resorts. Not that this place seemed to be popular with the public.

It all begged the recurring question:

“Where are we?”

With a grunt, you were deposited on the back of a horse. Your hands immediately reached for the saddle to balance yourself as you instinctively kicked your leg over to properly straddle the mount. You missed the odd look you received as he situated himself comfortably into the seat in front of you.

All sensibility lost in the storm, you huddled close and squeeze the bareness of your legs as close to the center of heat as you could. His jacket was larger, the length billowing over you like a blanket but in this weather you would need much more.

Your unnamed cowboy waited until the horse fell into an even gallop before answering.

“Somewhere around Ambarino, we think. This wasn’t your destination then?”

Ambarino?

You weren’t even sure what it was let alone find a reason why you’d somehow ended up here. Given the landscape, you were certainly further up north. The peaks of mountains could easily name a few states but you weren’t nearly comfortable enough to confidently place the town. Coming from a warmer more reasonable southern location, there was really only one you could recall from your childhood.

“Is this in Colorado? I mean I was young, but I came here once. Maybe this hallucination is a deeper psychological analysis or something.” you rambled, fully aware of how unhinged you sounded.

The man made it well clear how aware of his lack of understanding was.

“Girl, somethin’ ain’t right with you. I hope your mind thaws out soon.”

There was too much of a mutual agreeance with his diagnostic to be affronted. The disconnect was glaringly obvious yet you couldn’t grasp the tangibleness of it in order to prove your sanity.

As far as anything you could make clear of, it was just the scenic route of a dream you’d be lucky to remember by daybreak.

Despite its frosty script, it had certain charms that would be worth remembering in.

You’d heard of mountain men before. Read about their solidarity and gruff disposition. Of course in those novels, a young maiden often appeared on their doorstep and the two would warm themselves by the fire clothed in another by their skin and furs.

It was unlikely that a similar plot would pan out for you.

With a visible huff, you snuggled closer into his back comfort outside of the chaos of your mind. The biting wind was beginning to burn beyond the limits of what you could imagine. If it wasn’t for the nonsensical backdrop you would have began to consider that it might just not be a dream.

The sun was setting low on the horizon, but nothing had changed.

Where you had expected to see houses, roads and any sign of life,

you only discovered a continuing theme of snow, trees, some rocks and more snow.

You wanted to question the location more but instead another curiosity won out.

“I didn’t catch your name.”

He’d tried to remain quiet the ride thus far. Though part of it was likely due to his hesitance to inspire more madness from your lips. This was a question he seemed more amicable to respond to.

“Arthur. Arthur Morgan.”

You gave your name response, lip quirking when he mimicked it back in his own twang. It was … soothing. Like the warm scratch in just the right place.

You fell comfortably into it, time working heavily against the strength of your eyes as they sliding close. The unchecked weight against his back seemed to alert Arthur as he cut a concerned glance over his shoulder,

“I’m no doctor but I don’t think you should be sleepin’, ma’am.”

Maybe you laughed, the rumble sounded familiar in your throat as you rubbed your face into the cut of his leather.

“ I thought you were tired of hearing me speak nonsense?”

“Better than you being dead.”

There was no doubting the truth in the statement but it as becoming increasingly difficult to get your body to agree. The environment offered nothing stimulating. The sun was long gone and without it, both warmth and the light to make discernible images was gone. All that was left was the darkness of an abyss as you trotted further into it.

Perhaps this was the end and you’d finally wake up on the other side of the tunnel.

Who knows, maybe you’d continue you adventure with the mysterious Arthur Morgan another night.

Yawning around the thought, you settled comfortably into the admission.

You’re started when you feel an insistent pat on your thigh. You realize blankly how you register more of the impact than the way it knocks against the chill of your thigh.

“Hey now, stay with me, girl.”

You correct him with your name quietly but he hears it, latching on to the thin threads of your quick-temperedness.

“Hey, girl. Tell me. If you ain’t a prostitute, what are you and why were you dressed like that?”

If it was his plan to force you hand in defending your honor, you’d risen irritably to the challenge as you fought away the dreads of sleep.

“God, you really must enjoy a nice beating.”

His laugh is scratchy against the storm,” I’ve survived enough of ‘em.”

“Yeah, well you’re in for a life of them if you keep referring to women as sex workers. I’m a student, Arthur and I was sleeping off a hell of an exam which explains my state of dress.”

You were convinced he’d developed a tone of voice just for you. “Sleepin’ on the floor in the middle of winter in an old mining town … by yourself?”

With all the elements lined up- well, not that it made much sense from the beginning.

“Look, whenever I wake up from this dream I promise you, Arthur Morgan, that I will book a very expensive appointment with a psychiatrist to work out my obvious issues.”

You can’t see how gave, but it’s okay, because you’re certain. That you can heat the collision of his brows. He hums something along the lines of sleep. The words are so cohesive with your own desires that it could impersonate a lullaby.

A sleep deprived smile, weak in the edges, curls your lips,“How old are you anyway, Arthur?”

All bundled it has hard to guess and the beard still blurred the lines but he didn’t seem like much of a gap.

“Thirty five.”

You squeeze tighter, knocking off the chill on your nose against the back of his neck. His body rolls in complaint but you’re attached too close to be batted away so easily.

“Huh… maybe daddy issues will be a starting point,” you mused audibly.

“What was that?”

“You don’t want to know.”

Arthur may have called out but it’s lost to the static of the storm. You aren’t sure if it was intentional or not but the horse’s gait had been slowed to a choppy gait, the irritating bump with every step keeping you perfectly unbalanced the peak of unconsciousness.

You think you hear him call out to you again but the voice feels distant. Arthur shifts in your arms, and this time you know it’s his voice but it’s directed away. All at once the white noise collided with the cream of wood and the displeasure of horses treading through the snow.

The build up of frost takes a few blinks to flake away before take in the small caravan lumbering towards you. Arthur slowed to a halt, allowing them to roll closer. The familiarity of conversation makes it easy to assume this was the group he’d been determined to get to.

“And who is this?”

Even at such a close proximity, its difficult to make out features of the man referring to you. If Arthur senses your apprehension it’s muted against the urgency of the new parameters as he carefully pries open the ring of your arms.

He vaguely explains your predicament as he guides you off the horse and carries you to the nearest wagon. Before you’re able to comprehend the newly familiar loss of his warmth, you’re immediately surrounded by limber hand ands as women tuck various clothing and blankets around you.

The voices rang from different pitches and tones, but you’re too exhausted to try and piece them into something explainable. They throw more questions at you than you have the answers to give.

“Honey, what are you wearin’?”

Too far to reach yet close enough to provide the presence of comfort, you position Arthur hovering near. “Let’s worry about that later. Get her warm.”

The most distinguished touch is that of hands weathered like leather from age. It gives the familiar prickle of a grandparent with the odd firmness of an ox as they try to tear away the comfort of Arthur’s coat.

You find yourself fighting back, clinging to the material for reasons other than warmth.

“Best you give this jacket back to Mr. Morgan, dear.”

When another answers in your stead, you decide that Arthur’s voice is like cinnamon when compared to others. A distinct spicy aftertaste to discern it from the others, and just enough warmth to bite away the chill of discomfort.

“That’s alrigh’, Karen. Let her keep it, I got somethin’ else to do the job.”

Everyone seemed concerned about- everything outside of your sluggish desire for sleep. They were unsatisfied with your tight lip, but weren’t able to give them what they wanted anyway.

You only wanted one thing and at this point you were convinced that it would be the one remedy to solve it all.

Tucking your face into the pillow of wool, you sought it out from the one provider who help where needed.

“Hey, Arthur, can I sleep now?”

You’d lost him in the chaos awhile back, but suddenly he was everywhere.

The voice in your ear.

The hands at your hearth.

The weight on your shoulders.

“Yeah, girl. Just make sure you wake up when I call.”

Notes: I don’t know why I spend so much time pregame but I do and regret it every time. But it only took two chapters this time so we’ll roll into the familiar storyline with the next one. Thank you so much for all the positive feedback. This chapter is a bit more slow paced but I want to build everything one piece at a time.

#arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 imagines #arthur morgan #rdr2 headcanons #red dead redemption 2 imagines #rdr2 #rdr2 writing #as usual i will run through it again for mistakes

168 notes · View notes

wolves-on-caffeine · 5 years

Text

Love bites

Whats this? A fic for you? Yep!

Hope you enjoy!

Warning: blood, agrument at end

Logan was hungry, very hungry.

Normally he kept his hunger under control, but he hadnt been able to eat and was starving.

He was desperate.

So when he saw a hooded figure walking alone past an alleyway, he grabbed them.

“Sorry.” Passed logan’s lips as he shoved the hoodie sleeve up and bit into the strangers wrist.

Logan removed his fangs as quickly as he inserted them and spit out the blood. “Whst the fuck is that?!”

The hooded figured held their wrist. “Shouldnt i be asking you that?”

Logan looked at the guy- yes that was a guy- and had to take a second to compose himself. He was….quite attractive.

“Well yes, under the circumstances that would be expected, but in my defense, i am starving and would rather not taste your blood agian. How do you live with such…such…horrid blood in you?”

The guy stared at logan in disbelief. “Ok so..your a vampire im guessing.” Then crossed his arms.“and uh, rude,much? Im anemic.”

Logan ran the definition through his head quickly, and proceeded to take out iron supplements. “Take oen of these, wait are you on medicine alreasy? probably not with how your blood taste, ill make you a doctors appointment, i will,need your name.”

Hooded guy just stared at him. “No.” He gave a smirk.

“What do you mean no?” logan was confused, wouldn’t a human want to have good blood?

Hooded guy shrugged. “ I mean im not taking medicine, and im not going to a doctor. One, I’m broke, two, what are you going to do to make me? Bite me?”

Logan shoved the supplements at the hooded guy. “Name?”

“And im going to tell you, why?”

Logan gave a smile, “because i have your wallet?” and to prove so, he held it up.

Being a 200+ year old vampire means your good at pick pocketing.

“What? How did you- nevermind.” Hooded guy held out his hand for the wallet.

“Im Virgil. Virgil Bloodgood.”

Logan gave the wallet back and made a face.

“That is the most ironic name ever.”

_______

It had been a month since Logan bite Virgil, and yes, he did find a decent meal after words, but he visited Virgil every day.

Crawling through his apartment window, logan asked. “Did you go to your appointment today?”

Virgil looked up from his place at his desk, doing homework (logan found out he is a college student) and adjusted his hoodie.

“Oh my god Logan, can you not just use the door?”

Logan stood and and closed the window behind him. “I would, but you refuse to invite me in…luckily windows do not apply to that rule.”

Virgil just groaned and rolled across the floor in his chair. “No, i didnt go. You can’t make me.”

Logan sat on his bed. “Did you atleast get the cookbook I bought you?”

“Ah yes, "how to be delicious” the cookbook. Wonderful choice. Tell me, do you get this involved with all your meals?“ Virgil played with his bangs as if he didnt just imply the biggest insult of the century.

Virgil? Just a meal? Virgil who Logan, a vampire, has to force to sleep semi normal hours because he won’t sleep? Virgil who wears long sleeves and hoodies and socks and has 20 blankets on and is still cold? Virgil who dyed his hair purple and looks so adorable? Who shows Logan shows and ‘memes’ of the new world he doesnt understand?

Logan hadn’t know virgil long, but he is way more than 'a meal’ to Logan.

Of course, Virgil does not know that, nor need to know that.

"I only wish for you to be healthy. Your blood taste horrible, and it would not kill you to go to the doctors once to get meds and supplements to help. Also, if you ate atlleast normally instead of maybe once a day, I would back off a little, but if you insist on eating only once a day then it should at least be beneficial to you and include iron or -heaven forbid!- a actual food item instead of snacks and chocolate-”

That rant did not end soon.

______

4 more months and Logan and Virgil were friends(?) In a way at least.

Now Virgil was still stubborn about helping himself, but he was at least eating Proper meals, so long as logan made them (if you want me to eat, i don’t cook-ok, i’m cooking) which lead to logan moving in so he could cook when the sun was out.

But convincing Virgil lead to some….funny situations.

“Virgil, you need to eat! I made high iron food.”

“Not hungry.”

“Virgil, you need to eat.”

“Fine ill eat.”

“Rally? i thought it would be more of a fi-”

“If it is covered in garlic.”

“…You disgust me.” And Logan carefully put garlic on it.

___

Another time: Logan had been opening the curtains so Virgil could get some sun (he stood at the side, dont worry) and Virgil hissed and hid under hai bed.

“Oh my god Virgil, im the vampire, get out and enjoy the sunlight.”

“No, you can’t make me. Sunlight evil.”

“Althought i agree with that last statement, you need vitamin D.”

“Logan, I swear, if you want me to get vitamin D so much, ill go to the sunniest beach on the sunniest day in swim tunka just to avoid you.”

Logan laughed at him. “Please Virgil, no offense, but you? in a crowded beach? ” he laughed.

Virgil glared from the bed and moved to sit in the middle of the sun beam. “Ha, now you can’t touch me.”

Logan gave a fond smile to the back of Virgil and nodded. “Oh well”

_____

“I swear Logan, if you try to take me out to get sunlight in that sun hat of yours, i will go into the hall of mirrors and leave you there.”..Logan, who was wearing a daunting floppy sun hat so he could spend days with virgil outside, shook his head.

“Common misconception, but new mirrors show relections of vampires. It was only old mirrors that had silver backing to make it reflective that wont show reflections.”

Virgil had a evil look growing on his face. “Really now?” And went to the computer.

Logan walked over and looked,over his shoulder.“what are you looking up?”

Logan read the screen and gasped. “You wouldnt dare.”

Virgil grinned and hummed as he hit a picture. “I can afford that.”

“Virgil dont you dare hit that button!”

“Aaaaaand bought!”

That was how Virgil became the 'only’ proud owner of an antique silver backed mirror.

_____

Despite all the agruments, they did get along pretty well.

______

“Logan, what happened to the french in the 1800s?”

“Virgil, just because im over 200 years old doesnt mean i know everything.”

“Ok yeah but what happened?”

“Oh well what happened was-” and Virgil had an essay so good his teacher had him stay late to ask if he cheated. And he didn’t! Technically.

______

“Virgil, you forgot to do laundry again.”

“Oh shit, sorry, I forgot. You need your red polo tonight don’t you?”

“Don’t worry about it, i just wanted to inform you that i took care of it and you need not to worry about it. Also.” Logan threw a blandly at Virgil. “I put this in the dryer for a while. You enjoy when they are warm, do you not?”

Virgil cocooned himself instantly, and snuggled into the warm blanket.

“Your the best lo. What can i do to thank you?”

Logan gave him a smile, “maybe….go,to the doctors,tomorrow?”

Virgil,groaned but sighed. “One appointment! No,more.”

____

“Ok, so i say the meme,,you tel me what it means. Ready?”

Logan gave a determined nod. “Yes, i am ready.”

“Yeet.”

“To throw something, or a way to agree or show excitement.”

“Two bros.”

“Refers too two men who were in a hot tub at a large distance, who are not gay. A tragedy.”

Virgil laughed a bit. “Ok ok.. Free sha vacka do.”

“Fresh avocado spelled wrong, a 'mood’ if i am correct.”

Virgil gave Logan a high five. “You’re doing good, Logan!”

Logan smiled at Virgil. “Why thank you Virgil.”

_____

Virgil knocked on Logan’s door at 4 am.

Logan,opened in second, wide awake.

“Virgil? You should be-”

“Asleep? Yeah, but my room is cold, and I have a test at….3 pm today so I’m worrying.”

“Ah yes…may i ask how i am suppose to help?”

“Let ms sleep in your bed with you.”

Logan couldn’t fight the blush. “W..what?”

Virgil walked in and laid on his bed, messing up the perfect sheets as he did so. “I’m cold. Cuddle me.”

Logan stood at the door blushing. Ok so..sleep deprived Virgil is brave, no filter Virgil. Got it.

“I hate to disappoint, but i do not have a body heat to warm,you with,”

“Oh my god, are you going to cuddle me to not?”

Logan slid into the bed beside Virgil obediently and blushed. Virgil, as promise,d cuddled up to Logan and managed to get back to sleep.

Logan could not sleep. Not with the cuteness beside him, instead he carefully planted a kiss to the human’s forehead and smiled.

_____

“Are fangs sexy to vampires?”

Logan was..not expecting that. They were watching Steven Universe, when did fangs pop up?

“I..im sorry but..how did you come to this question?”

Virgil shrugged,sliding into the blankets more. “I’ve kinda been thinking about it for a while..cause you are pretty hot and..fangs add to that. So, as a human, i find fangs hot. But like..do other vampires find fangs hot?”

Logan stared at Virgil. He thought Logan was hot? Well perhaps…

“Well vampires do tend to see fangs as..flirtatious or..intimate…. I..personally..do prefer…flatter teeth myself.”

Virgil blushes and Logan could see the tip of a smile behind the blanket.

“Oh, ok.”

____

2 more months an Logan finally confessed. It was…messy.

Virgil and Logan had been having an argument over his need to have more iron, but it was..getting out of hand.

“I don’t want,to fucking eat that!”

“I know you like this food, you said this was your favorite and it is high in iron!”

"Why can’t you fuck off about my iron!“

"Why can’t you just eat without complaint for once!”

Virgil had grabbed Logan’s tie and pulled him down to eye level. “Will you stop treating me like I’m a fucking farm animal your waiting to chop up and eat! Quit treating me like your fucking meal!” Virgil had let go and backed up a bit, glaring daggers at the vampire.

Logan had to process everything. The argument, the closeness, the tie pulling,

'Your fucking meal!’ Rang in Logan’s head.

Logan grabbed Virgil by his hoodie and slammed his lips onto him, ignoring the tiny drops of blood he got from his and Virgil's lips alike (it was crushed kiss, fangs got in the way a bit)

Breaking the kiss, Logan glared. “You haven't been 'just a meal’ to me! Your sarcastic and honest and fucking gorgeous! You make my heart beat and my head spot working! I want you to eat and take care of yourself because i want you to be healthy, not so I can drink your blood! I love you Virgil, why can’t you see that!”

Virgil’s small squeak is what broke Logan out of it. He let go of his hoodie and backed away quickly, shock on his face.

“Virgil I..i am…"he took a breath, trying to force himself calm. "I apologize, my actions were not…they were uncalled for and I am Sorry I did that-”

“Did you mean it?”

“What?”

“Did you mean it when you said you loved me?”

Logan blushed and steeled himself, trying to prepare for the worse. He gave a nod. “I..I do love you Virgil…in a…romantic sense.”

Virgil seemed to relax a bit and rubbed on his bleeding lip. “Well…it would have been nice to be asked first, but….I’m glad.”

“Huh?”

Virgil walked over to Logan and grabbed his tie, gently pulling him in closer and giving him a soft kiss.

“Love you too.”

I loved this! Thank you so much!! I always love receiving fanfic, especially from you. ~S

#sanders sides #logan sanders #virgil sanders #vampire au #fan fic #submission

162 notes · View notes

supersleepygoat · 6 years

Text

The Family Business: Part Three

Pairing: Sam x Reader x Dean (No Wincest)

Summary: The Winchester brothers run a large criminal organization. Your father’s gambling problem prevents him from paying what he owes to the Winchesters. He offers the brothers you as compensation. Now, Sam and Dean have to figure out what to do with you.

Word Count: 6,364

Warning: Angst. Hopelessness. Violence. Blood. TW: Miscarriage.

A/N: Please heed the warnings. if this is triggering please do not read.

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

You are standing on the mattress looking down at the boys who are asleep beneath you. They look so peaceful. They are getting some much-needed rest. They spend most of their day dealing with business and being the hardened criminals the underworld expects them to be. Meanwhile, they spend most of their nights keeping you company. They enjoy the freedom of letting go. When they are with you, no one makes demands on them and no one tells them no. Your bedroom is their sanctuary. So, there isn’t much time for sleeping.

You usually love seeing them in this peaceful state. Under normal circumstances you would let them sleep. You would go down stairs and start making them breakfast or at least some coffee. But, today isn’t like any other day.

You start jumping on the bed. You wake up your sleeping mobsters with as much noise and jostling as you can muster. “Wake up!” you encourage Sam and Dean with a high-pitched squeal.

Dean is the first to gain his bearings. He soon recognizes that there is no threat. But he still isn’t too pleased when he realizes you are waking him up for no apparent reason. He grips your ankle and yanks you off your feet. You fall back onto the mattress and finally stop your incessant jumping. “What the hell are you doing? That is no way to wake up two very grumpy and heavily armed men!” Dean informs you with great annoyance.

“You’re not armed,” you look up at him with confusion. They know better than to bring weapons into your room. They know guns scare you and so they promised to check their firearms at the door.

Dean rolls his eyes and lifts his pillow to show you that he keeps a switch blade underneath it.

“What the hell? How long has that been there?” You ask as you sit up. You have been here for four months, how have you never noticed he keeps a knife in your bed? “Get rid of it!” You demand. It’s not the first time he’s brought a knife into the bedroom but it is the first time he’s concealed one.

“No way. Some people sleep with a security blanket to keep them safe. I prefer something a little more practical,” Dean informs you as he switches the blade open. “I got to do what I got to do to keep my pet safe,” Dean purrs as he crawls toward you with the knife between his teeth.

“Get that thing away from me!” You squeal with half-hearted resistance. You can’t help a fit of giggles that tells Dean how insincere your protests actually are.

“Are you two done? Some of us have a meeting in…” Sam looks at his watch and groans, “three hours. And, I would appreciate one more hour of sleep before you start begging for attention. Didn’t you get enough last night?” Sam asks as he narrows his eyes at you.

You know he is warning you to settle down. But, that’s not going to happen. Not today. You give him a wicked smirk and push Dean off of you. You scramble back onto your feet and resume jumping.

“That’s it,” Sam lunges forward and pulls on your hips so you crash onto your knees. “You asked for it!” All sleep is gone from his voice and replaced with unadulterated arousal. He pulls you closer to him so you are bent over his knee. You bare ass sticks up to him and he raises his palm.

“You’re in for it now, Pet,” Dean assures you as he settles into a seated position to watch the show.

You look back up at Sam over your shoulder. His hand is still raised and ready to crack. But he’s waiting for you to beg for forgiveness. He loves hearing you ask for mercy. Then, he loves not giving it to you.

“You wouldn’t spank a pregnant woman, would you Sam?” You ask as you bat your eyelashes with exaggerated innocence.

His eyes go wide for a moment before they dart over to gage Dean’s reaction. He isn’t sure he heard you correctly. Dean sports the exact same dumbfounded look on his face. So, Sam knows he heard it to.

Sam pulls you off his lap so you are sitting between the two brothers. “What did you just say?”

“I said I’m preg-” but you don’t have time to finish your statement before Dean attacks you. He rolls you onto your back and claims your mouth in a searing kiss. You smile against his lips and wrap your arms around his neck. This was the exact reaction you were hoping for. You were hoping they would be as excited as you are.

Dean pulls away when he remembers Sam is probably itching to congratulate you too. You both sit up and look at Sam. Your wide smile fades when you see he has gotten out of bed and started dressing himself.

“Sam?” You ask with hesitation. Your voice catches his attention. There is an unfamiliar detachment behind his eyes. You haven’t felt this kind of distance since your first night here. Your chest tightens with dread. You thought he wanted this. But, he leaves the room without a word.

Dean is as surprised by his brother’s actions as you are. “Wait here, kid.” Dean kisses your forehead and follows his brother out of the room.

You know you should stay put. Eavesdropping on the brothers has never ended well for you. But this isn’t a game. You have to know what’s wrong, what you did wrong.

You crawl out of the bed and throw on the robe they bought you last month. You peak your head around the door and can hear shouting from downstairs. You tiptoe closer to the railing to hear better.

“What the fuck did you think was going to happen? She’s not on the pill. We’ve never used condoms. And, we sure as hell don’t pull out. I’m surprised it took us this long! You said you wanted this!” Dean shouts at his brother.

“How are you fine with this? It is one thing to talk about it. It is one thing to use the idea of ‘breeding’ during sex as a fantasy. But, it is a whole other issue when you come face to face with it in reality! We can’t have a fucking kid!” Sam yells at his brother. Sam’s fear is coming out as venomous anger.

“Why the hell are you just realizing this now? If you didn’t want this, you shouldn’t have emptied yourself inside her every fucking night for the past four months! You can’t fuck her and refuse to deal with the consequences. She’s our responsibility!” Dean is frustrated with his brother’s immature reaction.

“No! She’s not,” Sam shouts. “She was never supposed to be an added responsibility in our lives. She was supposed to be a stress relief. Nothing more, nothing less. Now she is becoming nothing but a burden. She’s gotten comfortable here. She’s talking back more often. She even makes demands now. I’m starting to believe she thinks this is her home and we actually care for her.”

“We do!” Dean’s anger is boiling his blood. “I know the idea of a kid freaks you out. I’m freaking out too. But, you cannot look me in the eye and tell me you still only see her as your play thing. We weren’t supposed to care for her, but we do. There is no going back. Now more than ever.”

“No, she is a burden… now more than ever,” Sam refuses to admit he cares for you.

At some point during their conversation, you crumbled onto the floor. You grip onto the banister to give yourself some much-needed balance. The brothers have never told you that they care for you. You just figured it was because they weren’t good with words or don’t like talking about their feelings. But they would show you in other ways, or at least that’s what your delusional mind forced you to believe. Maybe it was all in your head. The false belief that they actually care about you was a comforting lie you told yourself. You had to believe it so you could accept all the things they do to you. Under the pretense of love, you would feel less used.

You hear the front door slam shut and you flinch at the sound. A second later, Dean comes storming up the steps. He stops dead in his tracks when he sees you on the floor.

“I told you to stay in the room, Y/N. You weren’t supposed to hear that,” Dean whispers as he scoops you off the ground. He brings you back to bed but does not get in with you. With the way you are looking at him, he knows you are expecting him to say something, anything. But he can’t. His mind is a jumbled mess and he cannot pull out a single coherent thought. He leans forward and kisses your forehead. Then, he’s gone too.

You spend the rest of the day in bed. You don’t know if Dean left or if he’s still here but just avoiding you. Night is falling outside your window but neither brother comes for you. You wait up half the night but no one comes.

As expected, you wake up alone. It is the first time you’ve woken up alone in four months. There is always at least one brother next to you. But, now you have no one. Your stomach growls and you realize you forgot to eat yesterday.

“Shit,” you groan. You’ve never had to worry too much about taking proper care of yourself before. Before, if you forgot to eat or didn’t get all your food groups, it was always just you who bore the consequences. But now you are caring for two. You have someone else to worry about. This is your responsibility. You will not let yourself fail at this. You can’t. Your self-pity needs to take a backseat. There are more important things to handle.

You peak your head into the hall to make sure the coast is clear. You know you’re allowed to leave your room. But, you don’t have it in you to face either brother right now. You’re about to take a step forward when you hear Sam’s bedroom door open. You all but jump back into your room and stay out of sight. But to your surprise, Sam doesn’t come out alone. A beautiful blond woman comes out soon after him. She grabs his hand so he turns to look at her. She cups his cheek in her palm. She then pulls him forward so she can leave a kiss on his forehead.

That’s all you need to see. You close your door and hide in your room until you can guarantee they are gone.

Thick tears threaten to spill over but you wipe them away before they have a chance to fall. You can’t let yourself do this. In what universe did you expect exclusivity? They told you time and time again you are their pet. Why didn’t you believe them? You built up the delusion that this is a real relationship. In reality, they only keep you around because your willingness to please is convenient. You satisfy their needs when they don’t have time to find someone better. You’re useful to have around the house. You itch their scratch and polish their shoes.

Convenient, that is all you are. That is all you’ll ever be.

They have every right to find other women. They don’t owe you anything.

You were only naive enough to believe that when they said they wanted to breed you, it meant something more. But it was only a game. You have been living in a bubble for the past four months. You misunderstood their kindness for affection. You misinterpreted the fact they hadn’t killed you yet, as proof they wanted you around. Are your standards for love really that low?

You don’t know who that woman is. All you know is that she was invited into Sam’s personal bedroom. That is something you have still never been privileged to. You let out a sad laugh. Why are you just now seeing the red flags?

Sam exits his room after he had a long talk with his mother. Mary follows close behind and tugs on his hand. He turns to face his mother as she cups his cheek in her palm. She then pulls him forward so she can leave a kiss on his forehead.

“This will all work out, I promise,” she assures him. Mary is legendary for her ruthless iron fist. She ran the family business alongside her husband for over three decades. She never shied away from getting her hands dirty. She is who Dean modeled his brutal work ethic after. But, what most people would never expect from her, is how warm she is toward her sons. She is a mamma bear that will protect her boys with ferocity, yet behind closed doors is as sweet as a doe.

“Thank you for talking me off the ledge. Thank you for understanding.” Sam gives his mother a sad smile. He is a little ashamed that despite all he has accomplished, he still needs to talk to his mother about girl troubles. If anyone saw into their private lives, the Winchester boys would lose all credibility as hardened criminals.

“Oh no,” Mary gives her son a humourless laugh. “Don’t think for a second you or your brother are off the hook. We don’t traffic in girls! I raised you better than that. I’m not happy how you met this girl. And, I’m sure as hell not happy you kept her from your father and me. But… you care for her. What happened, happened. We can only look forward. And from what you told me, the future is bright,” Mary beams at the thought of a grandchild. She never thought her boys would give her one. They were always too focused on the business. She never pushed the issue because a part of her knew it would all work out in the end. She just never imagined, the mother of her grandchild would be her sons’ willing prisoner.

“I know. I see that now. I freaked myself out. It’s been hard enough keeping just her safe. A lot of people want to see Dean and I suffer. What are we supposed to do once we have her and a baby to protect? Our enemies will come after them. And I-”

“Slow down!” Mary can see her son starting to spiral with worry. It is the same worry that caused him to have such a dismissive response to your news. She doesn’t want him falling down that rabbit hole again. “You and Dean are not in this alone. In case you forgot, I raised two boys in this life. And, they turned out pretty damn good. Aside from their new habit of accepting girls as payment for a gambling debt,” Mary says under her breath.

“It’s not a habit! We did it one time!” Sam defends his and his brother’s decision.

Mary levels Sam with a glare. She’s never accepted her sons’ bullshit excuses and won’t start now. “Regardless, your father and I know what to do. We can help. There are things you can do that will send the message that your family is off limits. It’s not going to be pretty, but I know you and Dean can handle it. Now…” Mary puts on a hopeful smile, “Can I meet her?”

Sam smiles and shakes his head. “Not right now. Soon, I promise. But I think we need to talk to her first. We have to get this straightened out.”

“Fine,” Mary relents. “I’ll wait. You go talk to your girl and make things right. Then, get her to a doctor! We don’t even know how far along she is. We don’t even know if she knows how far along she is.” Mary smiles at her son. “This is a good thing, Sam. I could tell by the way you were talking about her, you want this. I know it is scary. But, you’re allowed to admit that you want this.”

Mary leaves without asking which brother is the father. She also doesn’t ask how this little arrangement works. She’s knows better than to ask questions she doesn’t want honest answers to. Her sons have always been close. She doesn’t need to know how close they have become.

You wait for what you think is more than enough time for Sam and his friend to be gone. You creep down to the kitchen and freeze when you see Dean there.

He was happy when you first told him. But, he hasn’t come to see you since then. You don’t know if his brother had changed his mind in the meantime.

“There you are!” Dean lets out a sigh of relief when he sees you. “You haven’t come out in a while. So, I was going to bring you something to eat,” Dean says as he holds up the tray he was planning on bringing you. On the tray is a plate with a colourful heap of fruits and vegetables. Also, at the corner of the tray is a little daisy he must have picked from your garden. “Don’t get mad about the flower. This one had already fallen off the stem… I didn’t pick anything,” Dean assures you. He knows you don’t like it when people pull living things out of the earth for no reason.

You are about to assure him that you appreciate his sweet gesture. But, your growling belly interrupts you and signifies how enticed you are by his plate of goodies.

He puts the tray down and hardens his stare when he hears your stomach. “When was the last time you ate?” Dean asks.

You shrug with shame. You don’t want him to know that you let your insecurities prevent you from taking care of yourself, and your new addition.

“Christ,” Dean reaches forward and drags you over to the kitchen table. He sits down on the nearest chair and pulls you into his lap. “Eat,” he demands like you are a stubborn child.

Dean doesn’t have to tell you twice. You dig into the assortment of healthy snacks Dean laid out for you. As you eat, Dean runs his hands through your hair and rubs your shoulders.

“I’m sorry I was gone yesterday. There is something I had to take care of. Trust me, I would have preferred to stay here with you.” He leans forward and kisses your shoulder. “But there is something going down tonight. I only just got back an hour or so ago. But I promise once things settle down, I’ll be around more. I’ll always be here for you,” Dean assures you.

You turn to face him and try to stifle your tears of relief. “I’ll be here for you too,” you say in return. You know they won’t talk to you about business but you want them to know you’ll always be a soft place for them to land. You return your attention to your food. You pick up a radish and look at it with skepticism.

“What, you don’t like radish?” Dean asks as he notices you slow down.

“No, it’s just… I thought I read somewhere that pregnant women should avoid eating raw sprouts.” You try and remember the long list of rules that come with pregnancy.

Dean doesn’t respond. He simply takes the piece of produce from your hand and throws it over his shoulder. “There, now it’s gone. Keep eating,” Dean encourages you. He doesn’t know what else to say. He now realizes he has a lot to learn about what you should and shouldn’t be allowed to do in the upcoming months. He has this fear that he will do the wrong thing and accidently hurt you or the baby. He only wishes Sam was here to help him remember all the dos and don’ts, Sammy is always good with that kind of stuff.

You giggle at the mess he made behind him. The protective glint in his eyes fill you with warmth. You feed him a baby carrot and he rests his hand on your stomach.

“Dean, I-” you stop talking when you see Sam enter the room. You sink further into Dean as you avoid meeting Sam’s gaze. You don’t want him to notice the sorrow that brews in your eyes at his presence. He has every right to disregard you and be with other women. You are his. He is not yours. But, it hurts all the same.

Sam walked into a domestic display of momentary happiness. He hates that his presence ruined it. Your shrunken shoulders show that you fear his reaction. Plus, Dean is leveling Sam with a fiery glare. He is silently threatening Sam to even try hurting you again. But, that’s not why Sam is here.

Sam walks over to where you and Dean are sitting. He crouches down and rests on his haunches in front of you. At this level, he can see the tears pooling in your eyes. Sam reaches up to cup your cheek and Dean’s arms tighten around you in an instinctive act of protection. It kills Sam that Dean thinks he needs to be your amour. Sam would never hurt you, not again. He sends his brother a reassuring look. The look tells Dean that Sam is here to make things right. Dean nods and loosened his grip over you. Sam holds your cheek and forces you to look up at him.

“I owe you an apology, Y/N.”

That catches your attention. It is the first time Sam has ever called you by your real name. Dean has plenty of times, but never Sam. He smiles when you finally meet his gaze.

“I’m sorry,” he completes his apology. “I have no excuse for how I reacted. And, for what you overheard me saying,” Sam lowers his head with shame. Dean told Sam you were eavesdropping on their fight. It was bad enough knowing those spiteful lies spilled from his lips but it killed him to know you heard them too. “I didn’t mean a single word. I won’t bore you with why I did and said those things but I need you to know-”

“No, please.” You interrupt him. “I want to know. I want to know what I did wrong. I want to know how I pushed you to say those things. That way, I won’t do it again. It will help me be better. I want to be better for you,” you plead.

Despite everything, you cannot quell your desire to be good for him. This goes beyond not wanting to break their rules. This isn’t just about pleasing them. You have the delusional hope that if you do as you are told or listen well enough, they will grow to care for you. You’re hoping one day they will want you in the same way you want them. You know they could never love you. But you’ll settle for anything they are willing to give.

Sam’s eyes narrow with confusion. “Baby girl,” he pulls you off Dean’s lap so you can sit with him on the floor. He wraps his arms around you and you melt into his touch. “You did nothing wrong. You understand that, right?” When you don’t respond Sam turns you in his hold. “I need you to understand that.” The idea that you are blaming yourself for Sam’s idiocy breaks his heart. Over the past four months he has gotten used to the feelings you brew within him. But it never fails to surprise him how deeply you can break him with one sorrowful look.

“I understand,” you try convincing everyone that you believe your own words.

Sam isn’t quite persuaded by your lackluster response. But he doesn’t push the issue right now. He will make you believe it later. For now, there are more pressing concerns. “Mom was here and she-”

“Your mother was here?” You interrupt him again. You look around the disordered kitchen and you know for a fact that the rest of the house is in just as much disarray. You cringe to yourself at the thought of Mrs. Winchester seeing the mess. You don’t want her to think you can’t take care of her boys or their home. “Did you tell her I was sick last week? I mean I now know it was morning sickness that lasted all day, but did you tell her that? You told her that I usually keep this place clean for you guys, right?” you ask Sam with widened eyes.

“That’s what you’re worried about?” Dean asks as he scoops you out of Sam’s arms and forces you to continue eating, everything but the radishes. “Most people hear our mom’s name and they run for cover. But you’re worried that she can’t handle a little dust?” Dean laughs as he steals some of your dip.

“No… it’s just… I know she already wouldn’t approve of me. I know my father is no friend of the Winchesters. I know what people think of my family. She probably thinks I’m just your kept whore. So, I don’t want to make it worse by-”

“Hey!” Dean stops your rambling by giving you a deep growl. “Do not say that shit. Don’t even think it.”

“But I-”

“Dean is right,” Sam says as he gets off the floor and pulls up a chair in front of you. “You don’t say those types of things about yourself. No one disrespects a Winchester. And, you’re a Winchester now.”

“That means, you’re not allowed to talk shit about yourself anymore,” Dean finishes his brother’s thought.

“I – I’m a… I can’t be…” you too stunned to form coherent sentences. They can’t be serious. They couldn’t actually see you as family. You don’t deserve their name. You rest your palm on your stomach and look down to regain your thoughts. They must only be saying this because of the baby. You are only a Winchester as long as you bear their child. This can’t be about you. They can’t care about you for your own sake. “Wait,” you perk your head up as you push those thoughts away. “Is your mom a pretty blonde about this tall?” You raise your arm to the appreciate height.

“Yeah,” Sam answers. “We we’re talking upstairs in my room. Why?”

“No reason. I just think I saw her in the halls is all,” you say as you understand the woman Sam was with was only his mother. With that realization, the tightening in your chest starts to fade. You feel stupid for being jealous but at least he never knew you were.

“You saw her and she didn’t attack you with questions or drag you to go pick out paint colours for the nursery?” Dean asks with surprise at his mother’s inaction.

“I said I saw her. She didn’t see me. I’m sneaky,” you wink at Dean as your feeling more comfortable joking right now.

“Oh really? Does that mean you have been getting yourself into trouble without us knowing?” Dean starts bouncing you on his knee as he tickles your sides.

Your fit of giggle is broken by Sam’s booming voice. “Dean! You have to be careful with her!”

You are surprised by the genuine worry in his eyes. You get off Dean’s lap to go sit with Sam. You nuzzle into him. It is a silent reassurance that you are fine, you can take it. You’re not breakable.

“We have to get you to the doctor,” Sam says as his hands land on your stomach for the first time. He can almost feel a spark of hope trail up through his arm and pierce his heart.

“Dude, relax! She can handle being tickled for like two seconds,” Dean rolls his eyes at his brother’s sudden overprotectiveness.

“That’s not what I meant,” Sam gives his brother a look of unadulterated annoyance and it makes you giggle. “Mom said we should get her to a doctor. We have to know for sure that this is happening and everything is alright.” Sam shifts you in his arms. “How do you even know, sweetheart? You haven’t even been able to take any home pregnancy tests.”

“Well, I am late. Really freaking late. Then the nausea hit and then the tiredness. But aside from the little things, I just kind of know. I know it sounds stupid and it’s totally unscientific. But, I just don’t feel alone anymore. I guess I could be wrong but I don’t think I am. I can feel it.”

You weren’t wrong. You sit in the backseat of the Impala and look at the sonogram the doctor printed for you. Although you had a feeling it was true, having the evidence in front of you makes it all the more real.

Nine weeks. Your web-footed alien is nine weeks old. The doctor showed you a diagram of what the little freak would look like up close. Dean called your fetus ‘creepy looking’ but Sam slapped his shoulder to shut him up. You couldn’t help but laugh and agree with Dean. Luckily, it will be a lot cuter when it comes out.

The weight of how unprepared you are for this responsibility hasn’t hit you yet. You’re fears are kept at bay by the boys’ reassurance that everything will be fine. You believe them. You’re in this together. You will help each other through it. Three against one, those aren’t bad odds.

“Sam,” you say as you lean over the front seat.

“Hey! Sit back and buckle the hell up!” Dean demands with a booming voice when he sees you in his periphery.

“We’re at a red light,” you defend your actions.

Dean doesn’t need to respond. You see his fiery glare in the rear-view mirror and do as you are told.

Once you’re settled, Sam turns around in his seat. “What did you need, baby girl?”

“I lost it again,” you say as you hold up the sonogram. The thing inside you is barely the size of a golf ball and the grainy picture is damn near impossible to read. Sam is the only one who can see it clearly. You have already asked him a dozen times to point it out to you, but you keep losing it.

Sam doesn’t seem to mind the fact you are constantly bugging him. He is showing great patience with you. You can only imagine he will be same way with your baby. That thought makes you smile as he directs your gaze to the swirly smudge of grey that is your future family.

“Please! It only happens tonight! It won’t take long, I promise!” You plead with Sam and Dean as they force you to get ready for bed.

“I’m sorry, baby girl. We can’t. We’ve got business to take care of tonight,” Dean informs you.

“Then I don’t mind doing it alone. I’ll just be on the front lawn. I won’t go anywhere else,” you promise them. A little while ago, you planted some Angel’s Trumpets in your garden. It was difficult convincing them to let you plant such a poisonous flower. But, after you showed them pictures of the delicate bud, they gave in. But the truly special thing about these flowers is that they bloom at night. And, you figured out that they will probably bloom tonight.

“We can’t let you sit out there all on your own,” Sam reminds you of the reasoning he gave you the first time you asked them. “We’ll be hosting a meeting in the study, we won’t have time to come check on you. And, we can’t be distracted during the meeting.”

“If you’re out there, we won’t be able to focus. It will be dark and you’ll be alone. We can’t risk it,” Dean reiterates his brother’s stance.

“Don’t you trust me?” You ask a little hurt by their unwillingness to even let you onto the front lawn alone. You thought you were passed this.

“We trust you,” Dean reassures you as he pulls you into his arms.

“It’s other people we don’t trust,” Sam informs your as he moves in behind you. “There is a new deal going down tonight. You don’t need the details. All you need to know is that it is going to piss some people off. And, we would feel a lot better knowing that when it goes down, you’re safe up here in your room.” Sam kisses the back of your shoulder.

“We’ve had a busy day,” Dean directs your attention to the sonogram that now sits on your nightstand. “You need to rest and we need a little piece of mind. Just for the next little while,” Dean implores you.

“Fine,” your relent with a dissatisfied groan. “But you owe me,” you say before you can stop yourself. You cringe as you await your punishment for talking back.

To your surprise, the boys simply nod and say they will make it up to you. You expected them to tie you to the bed and make you wear vibrating panties. You expected they would make you sit in that position until they finished with their meeting. That’s what they did the last time you got snippy with them. But maybe the new baby is making them a little more lenient. You don’t know how long their agreeable moods will last, but you are hoping it will last a little while longer. Especially, for what you’re about to do.

The boys kiss you goodnight and leave you alone in your room. You change back out of your pajamas and wait a few minutes. You creep into the hall and tiptoe down the stair. You walk past their study. The door is shut and you can hear angry voices from within. That means, Sam and Dean will no doubt be occupied for the next long while. You have plenty of time to get in and out before they even know you were gone.

You slip out of the house and sit on the lawn. The dewy grass gets your dress wet but the slight discomfort will be worth it. You’ve always loved these flowers. When you were a kid, your mom would take you to the botanical gardens downtown. Angel’s Trumpets were always your favourite. Your mom would take you there at night so you could watch them bloom with the other enthusiasts. You didn’t find out until you go older, but she did it to get you out of the house. Your father would often keep the company of unsavoury visitors. It wouldn’t be unusual for him to get roughed up by the people he owed money to. She didn’t want you getting caught in the crossfire. She used to protect you back then. But as you go older, that changed.

You rest your hand on your belly while you wait. You will do better for your child. You will give this baby a better family. You will protect him or her, always. You make a silent promise of eternal safety and unyielding protection.

But as fate would have it, your vows are short lived.

Just as the ivory flowers begin to bloom, you hear tires screeching as a wild car rounds the street corner. The car peels past your home. Orange flashes of light and loud cracks of gunfire illuminate the darkened yard. You dive down onto the lawn and make yourself as flat as possible.

Once the driver believes enough damage has been done, the car speeds away. It was over as quick as it began. You stay curled into the ground in a state of shock. You crane you neck and look back at your flowers. Most have been destroyed by bullets. Except for one, one perfect Trumpet dangles above you. But it is not a perfect ivory as the others are. It is splattered with red and dripping the deep colour onto the soil. It is bleeding.

As the obvious realization that flowers don’t bleed washes over you, you uncurl your body. Then, the pain hits you. Your yellow dress is now turning red. The redness is spreading at an alarming rate from the perfectly round hole in your side.

Your first instinct is to call for your boys. They will be mad at you for disobeying them, but they will help you. You go to scream but nothing comes out. Your voice bleeds out of your open wound. You look up at the Angel’s Trumpet and wish they could be played. You pray for an angel to sing a warning call to your boys on your behalf. But that is a fruitless hope. No angel will save you. You will die if you wait around for the angels, your baby will die. You have to save yourself.

You try to push yourself off the ground to make it to the front door. You are only able to crawl a few feet before a cramp in your lower belly cripples your movements. The pain is worse than the gunshot. It is worse because you know that kind of pain can only mean one thing. More blood starts seeping out of you. Except this time, the blood paints your thighs with the stain of death.

You let yourself sink back into the grass as the pain envelopes you. Your body starts to shiver from the fear. You know it’s too late. You failed. You failed before you even got a fair chance. You wanted to be better. If you listened to Sam and Dean, their baby would still be alive. They will never forgive you. You will never forgive yourself.

Your tear stained cheek presses against the grass and you wait. You’re not waiting for your boys to come save you. You’re waiting for the angels.

Forever Tags:

@phonegalhelp

@mogaruke

@arses21434

@spn-ficfanatic

@winchestersister55

@itstuesdaytoo

@andkatiethings

@coltcas

@jackles-jadalecki

@iliketowrite02

@hobby27

@jaremish

@85natalie

@chocolateturtlepeanutopera

@atc74

@bumber-car-s

@bojabee

@trumpettay

@jessieray98

@waywardrose13

#supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #spn #spn fanfic #dean winchester #Sam Winchester #sam x reader #dean x reader #sam x reader x dean #dean x reader x sam #angst #trigger warning #tw: miscarriage #supernatural angst

196 notes · View notes

relatablyreid · 5 years

Text

Medical Attention - SR & LA

Sniffling and various coughing was audible from the kitchen, and Luke felt so awful. His handsome man was ill, and aching. He sounded like he was suffering in the worst possible way, and he just wanted to help his lovely man. There was only one reason preventing him from doing much, and that was based off of his respect for Spencer and his preferences. Since the start of their friendship, he’d always respected the way Spencer preferred things to stay. Even down to shaking one another’s hands. Obviously at this point in their relationship, they’d passed that boundary and many others in regards to physical contact and Spencer’s germaphobia.

Spencer didn’t really like a lot of help with things like this, and it often caused him extreme guilt and paranoia when he was being helped. He wanted to be able to prove that he could help himself, and that he had a lot more of an easier time taking care of himself than others may have suspected of him. Though, the way he was drifting through the hallway, leaning on the doorway and fully only making it to the bathroom because of the ability to lean against something.. hadn’t been making him look any more capable than the next guy. He coughed a bit with every few steps, and sneezed twice on his way there. After the sneezes came violent coughing, and a whine. He was making his way to the bathroom because of the obnoxious nausea that came with each cough. It forced him to have to leave the bedroom, and the awful bed he’d been trapped in all day. Normally at the end of a day or the beginning of a rough morning at the Behavioral Analysis Unit, he’d want to be in bed and home. This was a period of time where all he wanted was to be outside of the room, and house. Free, and able to enjoy nature and work and seeing his colleagues. Whom he missed so very much. Texts from Emily, from JJ, from Rossi and especially Garcia had him emotionally touched because they all wanted him to feel better. Garcia wrote a whole essay just about him taking care of himself and feeling better. Considering his physical and mental health state had been in a hole recently due to how sick he’d been, it warmed his heart easily and brought tears to his eyes to see how much his team cared about him.

“Hey, baby.” Luke whispered, placing his hands gently on each of Spencer’s hips from behind, and slightly guiding him. So gently, that the change in direction or exact tilt he was walking at was barely noticable. It was just to make sure he got to the bathroom safely, and without him stubbing his toe or slamming his foot into something. The last time he’d done that was earlier this morning, and he cried for ten whole minutes over it. The pain must have hit him physically in a way that effected him so poorly in an emotional form, and he sobbed his heart out. Even curled up on the floor for a moment, to mourn his previously fully functional and fine foot.

“I’m.. gonna puke, I.. I hate this feeling.” Barely above silence did the weaker male attempt to reply, with a sniffle to top off the warning in his statement.

“That’s alright, amor. I’m here.” Luke said softly, keening to Spencer’s hips and the way of which is wavering movements were made. Just trying to steer him safely. Once they’d entered the bathroom, from the spot where Luke’s hands were, he could practically feel something rumbling around in there. He sort of figured that Spencer wasn’t going to be able to keep down the toast he’d tried earlier. “Here,” Luke stood beside and allowed Spencer chance enough to sit on the floor. As Spencer had sat there, Luke placed a hand in his hair and moved it out of his face. Tucking the loose strands behind his ears, as best as he was capable of. The hard part was making sure it all stayed back and behind his ears, because Spencer developed a tendency of puking projectile and viciously. The coughing arose after the puking, and he gagged at the smell of his own vomit. Who wouldn’t, it always smell great going in and gross coming up. It made Luke sort of wish that it could have been leaving him in a less painful way. Puking left Spencer crying, whining, groaning, with an inconsistent sore throat and various other patches of dryness and a fiery feeling.

When he felt the food leave his stomach, and his belly empty, he whined out from the back of his throat. Leaning against the wall besides the toilet, he held his hand to his forehead and clenched his eyes. It sounded so bad, like an awful bass drum thumping and he knew he should lay down.

“I-I didn’t want it to come to this, I didn’t want to have to go and lay down, I’m so exhausted though,” Cried the poor defeated man. Except Luke promised he wouldn’t make Spencer feel weak, or incapable of caring for himself. Luke stood like a shadow behind Spencer, so he could get himself standing again and if he stumbled, Luke was there. Of course, Spencer reached both arms and hands up towards Luke’s, gripping them to pull himself up. He stumbled a bit towards Luke, leaning against his chest for a moment.

“I.. I hate.. just want to be.. feel better,” Repeated Spencer as he made his way right back to the bedroom. Spinning slowly around and to the door, Luke placed his hands on Spencer’s hips to guide him back to the bed. Then, made sure he was able to climb up into the bed and safely so. He pulled the covers up and tucked Spencer in, making his way to the kitchen. He got an all around pill, an over the counter one. The famous Advil Cold and Sinus one, and popped it. He squeezed the pill liquid out for the drink he was giving Spencer. Spencer wouldn’t take a pill, or physical medicine unless it risked his life with the other option being certain death. He really wouldn’t even bother if it did threaten his life. Luke wished he would for his own safety and health as well as benefitting his bettering. Yet Luke understood where these fears came from, and why Spencer was so concerned when it came to medicine or drug usage.

“I brought you some juice, to hydrate you a little and then maybe we can rest? Is that alright mi cielo?” Luke checked, making sure Spencer would be feeling better even if it was only a little for a short period of time. He just wanted to soothe some of the stress on his partner’s shoulders.

“Sure.. I hope, I hope you know that.. I love you, and, and thank you.. so very much.” Spencer reached a hand to Luke’s, to hold onto it and make sure he was genuine and showed how thankful he was to Luke. He took the juice and he sat up a bit using his other arm. He just needed to prop himself up enough to prevent choking on the juice. Especially with his clogged throat, and nasally passages. Taking a small sip, and then gulping down the rest through a few seconds, he managed. He handed the glass to Luke, and it was placed right beside his bed. Spencer let his arm that held him up drop from under him, and he laid back down on the bed.

“Are you tired, and do you have any interest in sleeping now?” Luke checked, and Spencer nodded. “I’m pretty tired, is that alright if we rest baby?” In Luke’s mind, he figured that it had been an exhausting and draining day. Not only physically but mentally, and likely emotionally as well. It was sort of tiring for Luke, in terms of being so consistently worried and anxious for Spencer and his safety or health. So in the gentlest and most caring way, Luke wanted to see if Spencer had his last fight with this illness and whether or not he was willing to rest himself now. The key to getting an easy escape from any sort of cold or sickness was a decent rest.

“Yes.. please, please.” Spencer sounded like he was damn near crying for it. Desperate for some sort of sleep and a beneficial rest. Knowing that this would help him, he tucked the blankets nice and close to his neck and head. The windows were becoming less of an issue, as the sun faded from the sky. The curtains were drawn to the perfect levelling, and it hid the men from the bright lights.

“I love you, mi cielo. I’ll always be here, to take care of you even if you can do it yourself.” Luke encouraged, and he rubbed the shoulder of the tough hearted and struggling male. He kissed all over Spencer’s upper shoulder, and he continued to do so until his partner had fallen asleep.

#sick spencer reid #helpful luke alvez #i just did this to assure me sore self

3 notes · View notes

k-p-p-d · 6 years

Text

Binding: The Transition

Summary: The contract has been signed, sealed, and delivered, and moving day is finally here at last.

Length: 3.7k

A/N: I’m so excited because y’all are finally getting a good glimpse at the Pets and their dynamics! I have a favorite Pet but it’s ONLY because they were the first one I had fully conceptualized. But shhhhhhh, I love all 3 so much!!!

1 | 2 | 3

Upon execution of the contract, the ‘Pet’ shall have twenty-eight (28) days to transition into the estate. All necessary expenditures incurred during the transition period shall be covered and/or reimbursed by estate as needed. Such expenditures include lease fees, storage costs, etc.

Dia sighed heavily as she surveyed her living room. Despite her apartment’s compact layout (some would call it “cramped,” she preferred “cozy”), it was her home, filled to the brim with precious memories and maybe far too many little knick-knacks than her shelves could handle. It had served as her own private oasis when work had become too stressful and overwhelming, and her fortress of solitude when she had needed to just hole up in her fuzziest blanket as her heart healed from the damaging and disappointing dissolution of her previous relationship. She sighed. Yes, she was excited--exhilarated, even--to move onto this new and promising chapter in her life; but with this page turn came the bittersweet ending of a chapter in which she’d undergone great growth. She turned around slowly, eyes catching on everything she owned haphazardly clustered together in little piles in every corner of the room, a tower of boxes standing sentry next to each pile. “This is really happening,” she mumbled in disbelief as she stooped over to to grab a roll of packing tape before plopping down next to a random pile, “I’m really doing this.”

As she began to pack away her things, she let her mind wander back to that fateful afternoon. She had felt completely blindsided by the icy control Junmyeon had exerted so smoothly over the situation. She’d sat there shell-shocked, her mind replaying the previous moments on a continuous, slowed loop as she tried to understand what in the hell had just happened. He had let her think she was calling the shots, that she was the one leading him in the most intricate of tangos rather than the messy two-step she’d so clumsily stumbled through. It was a brilliant, masterful display, one that had left her craving more. So much more, in fact, that she didn’t even let Chanyeol finish his glass of wine. (She’d felt guilty about it, but she’d reasoned it wasn’t all that rude considering he was her driver so he couldn’t risk being even the tiniest bit inebriated since her safety and wellbeing were his prerogative. That was her excuse and she stuck to it.) She remembered the way Rebelle had smugly smirked at her when she handed over her copy of the contract, which now proudly bore her signature. Admittedly, her bratty side had wanted to withhold the contract if just to wipe that smirk off the attorney’s face, but she was already so weak for a man she barely knew and Rebelle was right: She was the only one standing in the way of her own happiness.

Happiness…

God, she didn’t even really know if she knew what happiness felt like anymore. It’d been so long since she’d last truly experienced it. Thinking back, the last time she felt an inkling of pure happiness was the night she’d stumbled across Seungcheol’s profile. At the time, he had seemed like the perfect match for her. He was intelligent, charming, sensitive, understanding, honest, humble, and endearing with a streak of pride that allowed him a certain amount of commanding swagger. Being with him in the beginning was very much a rose-tinted scene out of a movie. It was just so perfect. He gave her the space she needed, never demanded too much of her, was more than attentive to her. And yet….Yet he couldn’t seem to really give her everything she really needed. Yes, she would be the first to admit she didn’t quite know exactly how to articulate to him what her true needs were because she was still discovering what they were. However, as time stretched on, his attention waned and the handful of needs he was satisfying dwindled one by one until she was filled with resentment and anger. She resented him for not seeing she needed more of a commitment than their part-time play and undefined relationship nor for giving her the chance to ask for more. He’d just assumed she was okay with how things were going when she wasn’t. She had wanted things to work between them, she really did; but seeing him that morning with a warm body that wasn’t hers lying beside him…. That was when the festering sore of her resentment scabbed over with her anger. She was angry at him for so easily tossing her aside for someone else, and she was even angrier to see the sparkling collar encircling the ungrateful bitch boy’s delicate neck. She would have clawed Jeonghan’s eyes out if she hadn’t just gotten her nails done.

As much as it tore her apart to walk away from him, she didn’t regret it. Nor did she regret all the time spent with him. She’d learned valuable lessons from that painful time and had come to better understand herself as well as her needs. She only regretted things could have ended more amicably; but even that was a very small regret, one easily overshadowed by her reproach for them. Still, she supposed that if things worked out between her and Junmyeon, she could at most send them a fruits basket. After all if it weren’t for them, she might not have ever been granted a chance to find her happiness again.

She smiled to herself as she finished taping the last box. Standing up, she brushed off her knees and looked around at all the cardboard towers crowding her living room. “Wow,” she mumbled to herself. This was really it. She was really doing this.

Her reverie was broken when the annoying shrill of her phone pierced the air. Wiggling the buzzing device out of her back pocket, she answered it without glancing at the screen, “Hello?”

“Is this Dianna Baptiste?” a soft voice lazily drawled through the phone, its lisp catching on the end of her last name.

Dia’s mouth ticked downward slightly in confusion as she answered the stranger, “This is she. May I ask who’s calling?”

“Good afternoon, Miss Baptiste. My name is Oh Sehun and I’m responsible for coordinating your move into the Kim Estate. I’m calling to confirm tomorrow’s schedule.”

“Oh! Alright, yes. You’ll have to forgive me, I wasn’t expecting your call so I might be a little scatterbrained. I actually just finished packing,” she confessed with an airy giggle.

“That’s quite alright,” he responded evenly. “Have you had a chance yet to review the proposed itinerary?”

Dia blanched, “Itinerary? I don’t think I received one…?”

“It was delivered by courier 18 days ago.”

Well shit, Dia thought to herself. “Oh… Um, hold on a moment, please.” Tucking the phone between her cheek and shoulder, she scurried over to her entryway table to rummage through the cluttered pile of mail she routinely dumped on it near daily.

“If you can’t find it--”

“No!” Dia exclaimed triumphantly as she snatched up the envelope in question. She took a deep breath and calmly reiterated, “No, no. I’ve found it. It just got lost in the chaos of everything I suppose.”

Sehun congratulated flatly, “Wonderful. Now, if we could please discuss it.” Despite his upward inflection and polite phrasing, it was clear that Sehun’s patience for this interaction had already grown thin.

Brat, Dia scowled. Reaching for her letter opener, she quickly opened the envelope to fish out a sleek, leather portfolio which proudly wore the embossed initials of her new Daddy at the very center. A shiver went down her spine as ran her thumb along the silver characters before she carefully slid the starched paper out to give it a cursory glance when she heard Sehun sigh on the other end of the line. Right. Two could play this game of fake politeness. “Yes, let’s begin,” she countered in the sweetest, fakest tone she could manage.

“Excellent. First, we need to confirm tomorrow works for you; based on your previous statement concerning the progress of your packing, I believe that it will. Is that an accurate assumption?”

“Yes, it is,” she answered, wisely choosing not to make a quip about the age-old adage of people who make assumptions (though she was certain it was something the brat needed to hear).

She could hear a checkmark being scratched onto paper over the other’s line. “Mr. Kim has requested you be totally moved into the estate by noon, hence why we have tentatively stated the arrival at your apartment will be 5 AM. Does that time work for you?”

Normally, she would have fainted at the thought of being up before the sun on a Saturday, but she knew herself well enough to know she’d be too jittery to sleep past midnight considering this new adventure would begin in a matter of hours. “That’s fine. How many people will be helping me move? I’d like to at least have coffee and maybe a small breakfast ready for everyone to kick off the day.”

Sehun hummed thoughtfully. He was never one to turn down anything free, especially food and double especially coffee; and if she was offering...technically it wasn’t against the rules. “That will depend on how many trucks you’ll need to help you move.”

Glancing back at her living room, Dia quickly tallied up the boxes and guesstimated how much space each would take up in a truck. “One truck will suffice, I believe.”

Sehun could have squealed; less men meant more food for him. Maybe this Dianna lady wasn’t so annoying after all. “Then you’ll need to prepare for four.”

“Great! Do you happen to know if any of the crew have any food allergies or maybe how they take their coffee?”

Sehun’s lips betrayed him and twitched upward into an impressed smile. How responsible and considerate of her. Yeah, she definitely wasn’t annoying… Well, for now at least. “As far as I’m aware, no one has any food allergies. Two prefer iced Americanos--one will ask if there’s an espresso shot in it but I strongly advise you not to get an espresso shot--and another takes it black, but be sure to have plenty of extra sugar and cream on hand because he will ask for it when he’s halfway through. And I-- the last one doesn’t really like coffee so if you could manage to pick up a choco bubble tea for him that’d be great. If not, it’s fine--”

“No, I’ll be sure to get it for him,” Dia assured. “It’s the very least I can do since they’re working so early on a Saturday.”

Sehun tapped out a brief message to his crew notifying them that he had so graciously secured a source of nourishment for the following morning’s laborous activities. While his tastebuds leapt at the thought of the free meal, his heart felt the tiniest bit bad for her wallet so he decided to extend the professional courtesy of asking, “Would you like for the estate to cover the costs for preparing breakfast and coffee?”

Dia chuckled, “If this is your way of telling me to cook a big breakfast, then you don’t need to worry. I don’t mind buying everything.”

“Are you certain? This would count as a necessary expenditure per the contract.”

“Yes, I’m certain.” She lowered her voice to conspiratorially whisper, “Between you and me, I want to keep my tab at zero for as long as possible so he’ll be more likely to buy me something I know I can’t afford.”

Sehun lowered his voice too, “Smart move.” Clearing his throat, he checked off a couple more items on his list and began, “Once the truck is loaded, which should be no later than 7 AM, your belongings will be transported to the estate while you will be escorted to a furniture gallery where you will be able to choose what furnishings you would like to have in your suite. We’ve allotted the hours of 8 AM to 11 AM for this; however if you arrive before or after 8 AM, the time block will be adjusted to give you a minimum of three full hours but no more than three and a half to make your selections. Do you believe that is an adequate amount of time?”

“Um,” Dia nervously fiddled with a loose curl as she struggled to wrap her brain around what Sehun had so calmly disclosed, “what exactly do you mean by ‘suite?’”

“Ah, yes, your quarters in the estate are equivocal to that of a master suite in a normal home. You have the bedroom, of course, in addition to a private full bath ensuite, a dressing area, and a sitting area, as well as even a small kitchenette and breakfast nook. I also believe you have two full walk-in closets in the dressing area but I don’t have the exact floorplan in front of me now to confirm it.”

Dia gasped, “Holy shit, that’s...wow....”

Sehun couldn’t help the bemused chuckle that floated out of him, but chose not to further acknowledge her shock. Instead, he repeated, “Do you believe that three hours or so will be an adequate amount of time to choose the furnishings for your suite?”

“Well,” Dia rubbed the back of her neck as she shifted her weight to her other hip, “I’m not really sure, honestly. I haven’t actually gone furniture shopping since I was in college. And even then, it was only to pick out bedding and some curtains, my ottoman too at most. I’ve just collected everything else over time, I guess.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll be assisted by one of Mr. Kim’s favorite interior designers. His name is Kim Heechul; have you heard of him?”

Had she heard of him? Dia could have laughed in Sehun’s imaginary face. Of course she’d heard of Kim Heechul, everyone had heard of Kim Heechul: Self-made design and architecture mogul, personal interior designer to the most elite of the elite, and professional tea connoisseur. You weren’t anyone unless Kim Heechul knew you, and now he would know Dia. She swallowed and took a deep breath, willing herself to play it cool and not fangirl over the phone let alone tomorrow when she actually met The Kim Heechul. “Yes, I’ve heard of him.”

“It’s okay if you fangirl,” Sehun snickered, “he loves it when his ego is stroked.”

Dia deflated into a nervous pile of bubbling excitement but somehow managed to keep her voice even as she followed up, “Good to know. I’ll be sure to keep that in mind tomorrow.”

Sehun nodded, “Good. In the back of the portfolio, there should be a section about dedicated to this portion of your day tomorrow. Please be sure to fill out the consultation forms as best and as detailed as you can; you’re limited on time here and while he can create miracles out of nothing, even the great Kim Heechul can only do so much in such a short amount of time. So the more you give him on that form, the better he’ll be able to help you.

“Now, once you’ve finished selecting your furniture, you will have several appointments you will need to attend, most of which will be fittings--”

“Fittings?” Dia interrupted. “But I’m bringing all of my clothes with me?”

“Yes, fittings,” Sehun repeated. “You may wear your clothes around the estate and to work during the duration of your relationship with Mr. Kim. However, he has certain...tastes, shall we say, when it comes to fashion and such so you will need to have a separate wardrobe for the occasions he specifically requests for you to wear certain things. Additionally, I’m sure you’ll find that his style and tastes align well with your own so should you choose to upgrade your everyday and professional wardrobe, your measurements will already be on-hand for the seamstresses, tailors, and stylists. The others all have upgraded wardrobes as well so you shouldn’t feel ashamed or guilty if you choose to upgrade your own when the time comes. Not to mention, the jewelers still have to make your collars which require your exact measurements and matching you to the most flattering gems and metals. You’ll have a small part in designing your official collars that you will wear once your trial period ends. Mr. Kim, as well as the others to a certain extent, have already given their input on them, but since they’ll be yours and yours alone to wear, your input is necessary too.”

Collars.

Her very own collars.

Dia’s heart stopped--full stop, completely ceased--before it snapped back into action and kicked into overdrive as the reality of Sehun’s words crashed down against her chest like a leadened vest, forcing her to click the volume of her phone up to the highest level just so she could kind of hear over the sound of her blood rushing past her ear. “I-I’m...collars?” she sputtered, completely unable to really process the word.

Sehun frowned slightly at her trepidation. “Yes, collars. Are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m-- Well, honestly and to be pretty blunt about it, I’m pretty damn shook right now. You saying all of that about collars-- my collars made everything just so real,” Dia rambled as she slowly lowered herself onto her sofa, tucking her legs under her to make herself small as if to better hide from the massive, Junmyeon-shaped shadow of change looming over her. “Like...I’m really doing this. This is really happening tomorrow.”

“Yeah, it is,” Sehun assured her softly. “Listen, I know it sounds like a lot because it is; but you’ll get through it, step by step. This isn’t the first time myself or anyone in the estate has gone through an acquisition. Tomorrow will be hectic, there’s no other way to get around that. But I think you’ll find it pretty fun and interesting, and that’s mostly on account of my crew. I won’t say too much about the guys who will be doing the actual moving because I am a firm believer they truly are an indescribable experience; but just know that despite how incredibly loud and wild they can and likely will be, they’re remarkably careful so nothing of yours will broken. And I’m certain you remember your driver, Mr. Park: He’ll be the one to take you to all of your appointments tomorrow. Despite how intimidating he must’ve looked to you at your lunch, I promise you, he’s just an overgrown elf with the heart of a puppy. I’ll be with you all throughout the day tomorrow to help guide you until you’re completely moved in. Just don’t fall for my handsome face because that will be very hard to explain to Mr. Kim.” Dia giggled and Sehun smiled, “You laugh, but I’m quite serious. It’s happened before!”

“I don’t doubt it one bit!”

Minki was unamused.

Tired and unamused. The absolute last thing he needed to be doing right now was figuring out how to escape his room after his partners kidnapped him despite knowing how incredibly busy his day--which, uncoincidentally, happened to be the busiest day the estate had seen in a little over a year--was going to be. He’d been up long before the sun had even stretched its arms as it sleepily pushed the moon out of the sky and he still had so much to do. He needed to coordinate with Heechul’s team for the entirety of the afternoon, have a final consultation with the stylists and jewelers in less than 2 hours, double-check the kitchen staff had everything necessary for the evening’s meal, quadruple-check the main room was in pristine condition, and practically micromanage all the men in his life to ensure they would all be ready for the evening’s main event. It was a lot for anyone to handle, but damn it, Minki was nothing if not efficient. He would get everything done with enough time to spare to even sneak off and get a proper manicure without the tabloids catching him.

But first…

He sighed discontentedly as he mulled over the clothing options hanging before him. Everything would look incredible on them but they needed to wear something to make a lasting impression on her.

Setting his phone aside, Yugyeom struggled to keep a smile off his face as he attempted to casually ask, “What time is she supposed to be here?”

Minki noted the excitement brimming just under the barely calm overtone of the younger’s tone. Rather than commenting on it, he simply shrugged, “If you had looked at the itinerary, you would know.”

“I did look at it and I saw the estimated time. I know you know the actual time of her arrival, which is why…” Yugyeom dragged out the last word as he slinked forward to envelope the smaller man in tight backhug, dipping his head down to hook his chin over Minki’s shoulder to whisper in his ear, “I’m begging you to tell me the exact time.” He slid his hand down to wrap around the trimmed waist concealed (much to his annoyance) by one of the many oversized, fluffy sweaters that remarkably resembled all the ones missing from his closet. “Pretty please,” he purred sweetly, “pretty baby, will you tell me?”

“You’re horrible at begging,” Minki quipped before pushing his way out of the hug.

“Even worse at seduction,” Taeyong snickered behind his hand from where he was lazily reclined on Minki’s plush bed, amusedly watching the scene before him unfold.

“You’re both so unfair,” Yugyeom scowled at them before plopping down onto the bed. “All I wanted to know was what time she’d be here so I could look my absolute best and make a good impression on her before you both scare her off!” he whined pathetically, kicking his legs in the air and pouting extra hard for good measure.

Taeyong rolled his eyes and pushed himself onto his elbows so now he could rest his chin on the youngest’s shoulder, “We all know I’d be the last one to scare her off. But Minki…” They glanced at the man in question before dissolving into a puppy pile of laughter.

“Say another word about me and I’ll shove my stiletto through your entire Studio Ghibli collection and your Abuse Brown records,” Minki calmly threatened without a single glance toward them, his eyes too preoccupied with carefully inspecting the trio’s outfits for the evening. Everything absolutely had to be perfect.

After all, they were welcoming home Daddy’s (new) little girl.

--Admin Lily

#exo scenarios #got7 scenarios #nct u scenarios #nct 127 scenarios #nu'est scenarios #nu'est w scenarios #exo sehun #got7 yugyeom scenarios #nct u taeyong #nct 127 taeyong #nu'est ren #nu'est w ren

56 notes · View notes

joonsgalaxy · 6 years

Text

I got tagged in a few tags, so here they are! (thank u for tagging me!! <3 )

I’m going to tag a few people at the very beggining. if you want to do any of these tags, i encourage you to do so, it’s fun! (if u haven’t already done them, of course lol)

@sevenbangtanbabes @eris0330 @pdfmin @peacheseok @wastedkookies @dat-town @andromedaneedsoxyjin @def-initely-soul @seokjinscheonsa

777 wip challenge

Tagged by @dat-town

the rules: go to page 7 of your wip, go to the seventh line, share seven sentences, and tag 7 more writer-bloggers to continue the challenge.

this is from my magic!AU drafts:

‘What happened?’ Yeri questions, puzzled. Her eyes skim up and down, taking in your whole form, which undoubtedly looks hysterically comical with all that dirt dusted upon.

You glance at Yoongi seeking for some help, for some kind of hint, but he’s completely useless. He simply stares wide-eyed.

‘Um I—

I want to make a potion to make Kevin fall in love with me so I sort of needed to steal this plant from you.

‘I always thought this flower looked beautiful so I wanted to take a sprout and replant it at my place?’

Tagged by @andromedaneedsoxyjin

Gender: female

Star Sign: capricorn

Time: 8:50 pm as i’m typing this

Favorite Bands: nothing but thieves, catfish and the bottlemen, the 1975, years and years; bts, seventeen, monsta x, day6, the rose, pentagon, red velvet, k.a.r.d and a bunch of others the list goes on and on lmao

Favorite Solo Artists: Sunmi, Jessi, Hyuna, joji, Harry Styles

Song Stuck In My Head: Pentagon - Shine

Last Movie I Watched: “Game Over, Man!”

Last TV Show I Watched: “GLOW”

When Did I Create My Blog?: June 2017

What Do I Post: fanfics

Last Thing I Googled: the word “faint”. i wanted to make sure i knew the correct spelling lmao

Do I Have Other Blogs?: Yes, because i have no life. here

Do I Get Asks: sometimes, when i post something new :>

Why Did I Choose My URL: long story short: kyut because of sungkyu, but like cute. tea because of taehyung, but like tea, y’know. so it’s like cute Tae, or cutie, or whatever idk lmao

Following: 175

Followers: 238

Favorite Colors: i dunno

Average Hours Of Sleep: 8

Lucky Numbers: i never noticed particular numbers helping me so idk lol

Instruments: i’d been learning to play a piano for a year, when i was like thirteen, then stopped

What Am I Wearing: a flannel shirt from a thrift shop men’s section and leggings for running. what an odd combination lmao

How Many Blankets I Sleep With: one

Dream Job: i dunno :(

Dream Trip: to Canada probably

Favorite Food: kimbap i guess, or rice in general in any dish lmaooo

Nationality: Lithuanian

Favorite Song Right Now: Pentagon - Shine; Monsta x - Jealous; Shawn Mendes - In My Blood; Alina Baraz - Electric (feat. Khalid); Hoya - Angel; oh and 5 Seconds of Summer - Want You Back

Tagged by @def-initely-soul

Name: kyu

Gender: female

Star sign: capricorn

Sexuality: i wish i knew lmao

What’s your current wallpaper: bts ot7 in dubai

Have you ever had a crush on a teacher? i don’t think so

If you could be somewhere else right now, where would you be? in a little colourful cabin in the mountains

Coolest halloween costume? i don’t celebrate halloween i’m lame

Favorite 90s show? The Simpsons lmaoo

Who was your first kiss? i pretty much always reject boys when they try to kiss me lol so i haven’t had like a proper first kiss yet

Have you ever been stood up? no

Have you ever been to Vegas? nope

Favourite pair of shoes? sneakers with platforms or thick soles or whatever you call those things lol, because i’m quite short and they make my legs look nice

Favourite fruit: blueberries, but they’re berries, lmao i don’t have a favourite fruit i guess

Favourite book: Just one look by Harlan Coben atm

Stupidest thing you ever done? so i had promised myself that i wouldn’t go study philology and literature and guess what i did lmao i went to university to study precisely that :)))

Element Tag

Tagged by @seokjinscheonsa

RULES: Bold the statements that apply to you, italicize your aspirations, and tag nine people!

AIR: I have small hands • I love the night sky • I watch small animals and birds when I pass them by • I drink herbal tea • I wake to see dawn • The smell of dust is comforting • I’m valued for being wise • I prefer books to music • I meditate • I find joy in learning new truths from the world around me

FIRE: I don’t have straight hair • I like to wear ripped jeans and overalls • I play an organized sport • I love dogs • I am not afraid of adventure • I love to talk to strangers • I always try new foods • I enjoy road trips • Summer is my favorite season • My radio is always playing

WATER: I wear bracelets on my wrists • I love the bustle of the city • I have more than one set of piercings • I read poetry • I love the sound of a thunderstorm• I want to travel the world • I go to sleep past midnight most days • I love dimly lit diners and fluorescent signs • I rewatch kids’ shows out of nostalgia • I see emotions in colors not words

EARTH: I wear glasses • I enjoy doing the laundry • I am a vegetarian or vegan • I have an excellent sense of time • My humor is very cheerful • I am a valued advisor and to my friends • I believe in true love • I love the chill of mountain air • I’m always listening to music • I am highly trusted by the people in my life

AETHER: I go without makeup in my daily life • I make my own artwork • I keep on track of my tasks and time • I always know true north • I see beauty in everything • I can always smell flowers • I smile at everyone I pass by • I always fear history repeating itself • I have recovered from a mental disorder • I can love unconditionally

#feels weird to talk so much about myself but #it's kinda fun #thanks for tagging :>#tag games #aboutkyu

5 notes · View notes

jarienn972 · 7 years

Text

The Right Place - Chapter Four

Just discovered that this chapter didn’t post over the weekend as I thought it had so trying again. This chapter has Emma spending time trying to process what she’s learned so far while she waits for Killian to fill in the blanks. For anyone wanting to read ahead, Chapter Five is already posted on FF.net and AO3 and here are the links to the earlier chapters here on Tumblr:

Prologue/Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three

Note: AO3 lists the prologue as Chapter One so the numbering on that site is a little different than how I have them set up. Sorry for any confusion.

Tuesday afternoon, Portland Medical Center

Deputy McCallen dropped Emma off in front of the hospital entrance approximately an hour and a half after they'd left – or roughly half an hour later than she'd promised her son, but neither of her boys seemed upset with her. Henry still had his earbuds in, fully engrossed with whatever he was viewing on his phone while Killian remained motionless on the bed, and now that she knew more of how Killian reached this moment, her curiosity was only heightened. He'd been stranded with a damaged sail and most likely had attempted to contact her once he'd purchased the rope necessary to repair it – thankful that she'd made him take a couple of 20 dollar bills with him as merchants here weren't as likely to have accepted his doubloons.

She had contemplated everything Jean Scott had told them about the robbery as she rode up in the elevator – about why Killian had come into her shop; about how he'd been interrupted before making his phone call home – assuming that's what he'd been heading outside to do. All of it left nearly two hours still unaccounted for and what happened next was still a mystery to them. She wanted to see the security video that McCallen had referred to hoping she might pick up on some nuance that the deputy wouldn't have noticed.

And she couldn't help but think about her interaction with Deputy Aaron McCallen. His mannerisms stuck her as odd, but earnest. How many modern investigators still used a notepad and pen for case notes? Emma used electronic devices whenever she could or simply committed the information to memory until she had a moment to record it. She may have been born into a fairytale kingdom but she'd been raised with technology and she fully embraced it. McCallen, on the other hand, for such a young investigator, was either very old school or very inexperienced. He certainly seemed diligent enough, although perhaps a bit reserved. He'd seemed almost embarrassed to ask about the significance of Killian's jewelry – not that she was able to give him the whole honest answer, but either way, he'd been hesitant to touch on any personal subjects. Of course, most investigators probably wouldn't take Emma's more cavalier approach. It just worked for her.

"Hey, Kid," she'd announced as she stepped through the doorway. "Sorry we got back a little late. Any changes while I was gone?"

"It's okay, Mom," he assured her as he yanked on the cord to his earbuds, removing them. "Nothing changed here. Hope you and the deputy were able to get some new info though."

"We did. We've got a better idea of how Killian ended up here in Portland and we know for certain that he did voluntarily allow himself to be taken hostage to protect a shop owner."

"So what happened?"

"According to the store owner's account, the bowline on the mainsail broke. Killian apparently didn't have enough rope onboard to fix it and had to take a ferry from an offshore island to a shop on the harbor. He was waiting for the ferry to head back when someone tried to rob the place. Killian offered up doubloons from the Jolly Roger if they'd leave the woman running the place alone, but right now, that's all we know," Emma sighed as she lowered herself onto the chair next to her husband, reaching over to grasp his hand as she sat down. "We know that two men were involved, but they wore masks the whole time so the store owner couldn't identify them. Maybe he saw their faces after they took him hostage or maybe he overheard something he wasn't supposed to so they tried to kill him? We just don't know what went on after he left the store with a gun to his back except that he didn't get shot, he got stabbed instead."

"I'm sorry, Mom. He'll wake up soon and then you'll be able to ask him."

"I hope so," was her crestfallen reply and her son decided to change the subject there before the room became any gloomier than it already was.

"Now that you're back, do you mind if I head downstairs to the cafeteria to get some lunch? I'm really getting hungry…"

"Sure," she replied having not even realized that it was nearly 1PM now, the thought of food not even crossing her mind.

"Want me to bring you something?" Henry offered.

"No, that's okay. I'm not really hungry right now. I'll get something later…"

"Okay, then. I'll be right back." She watched her son as he headed out into the hallway, disappearing behind the pulled curtains and almost instantly found herself struck with the same sensation of loneliness that Henry had felt earlier. After two days without her husband close to her, without hearing his voice or being able to gaze into his sparkling blue eyes, she longed to get lost in his smile once again and yet all she was able to do presently was simply stare at his unconscious form as he lay there so still and so silent. This wasn't where they were supposed to be. They were supposed to be at home in Storybrooke dealing with the latest dwarf crisis or sitting at Granny's having lunch with her parents – anywhere but here in a Portland hospital room where despite the nurse's earlier cautious optimism, Emma still found herself fighting off the lingering apprehension that she might be planning for a funeral.

That horrid thought was quickly chased from Emma's mind as a nurse appeared in the still open doorway carrying a tray covered in supplies, startling the sheriff for a moment as she hadn't heard anyone enter.

"I'm so sorry to startle you, Mrs. Jones," the young nurse who'd been at the desk earlier when Emma arrived apologized. "I just came in to change the dressing on his wounds. I'll only be a couple of minutes…"

"No need to apologize," Emma responded. "I guess I zoned out for a moment. I'll get out of your way here…" She stood up, placing Killian's hand gently back at his side as she rose. The nurse drew the privacy curtain around the bed in case someone else were to walk into the room and sat her tray atop the rolling table that had been pushed over to the foot of the bed. Emma retreated back toward the window as the nurse attended to her husband assuming the young woman wouldn't want an audience.

"It's okay for you to stay," the nurse insisted. "As long as you're not overly squeamish, I might even be able to use your assistance. This is sometimes faster with two sets of hands," she paused as she realized that her choice of wording might have been offensive, but Emma didn't react to the faux pas so the young woman completed her statement. "Or I could page an orderly if you'd prefer…?"

"Alright, I'm open for pretty much anything. Just let me know what I need to do," Emma replied as the nurse unwrapped the blanket from around Killian's shoulders which allowed her to at last see the patch of gauze taped across the lower portion of his chest and upper abdomen. As the dressing was peeled back, the dull red sutured surgical incision became visible, stretching several inches across the lower portion of his rib cage toward his sternum. Despite having been stabbed in the back, it appeared that surgeons had chosen to go in through his chest for easier access to repair the damage. After a brief inspection, the wound was rapidly and expertly re-bandaged and once that task was completed, the nurse quickly checked his IV and his breathing tube before turning to Emma.

"I need to check the wound on his back now. If you wouldn't mind helping for a moment, I can finish this easier with him still in this position. If you don't want to though, I understand and I can lay him down instead."

"I'll be happy to help. Just tell me what I need to do."

"I just need you to support his weight while I lean his upper body forward a little to access the other incision. If you could come over here…," the nurse motioned toward the opposite side of Killian's bed so Emma skirted around him as instructed. "Okay – now just place your hands on his shoulders as I sit him a little more upright and steady his weight…" The nurse brought her right hand alongside Killian's jaw as her left hand slid behind his back and gently pushed him forward just a couple of inches. She cradled his head in place while Emma supported his torso, gradually allowing his head to tilt forward as well. "Good," the nurse stated as she pulled her hand away from his neck, freeing it up to dress the other wound. "Just a minute and I'll be all finished." She had already removed the old dressing and tossed it onto the tray with the rest of the used gauze and just as swiftly as she'd bandaged the wound on his chest, she tended to the smaller but decidedly more ragged incision at the middle of his back. "There – all done." The nurse smiled as she repeated the gentle hold of his head while lowering her patient's body back against the mattress.

Emma kept her hands at his shoulders until he was returned to his original position on the bed, her head now filled with theories about the type of knife used to stab him. The wound had been delivered with an upward thrust with a blade long enough to pierce completely through his chest cavity so they clearly weren't looking for a pocket knife nor could this injury have been made with the dagger Killian often carried inside his boot. This blade had to have been longer than that, but certainly narrower than a sword. A kitchen knife maybe? Or maybe a fisherman's boning knife?

She finally pulled her hands away as the nurse brought the blanket back up around his shoulders finding herself wondering how much longer they would keep him wrapped up like that. She wasn't really certain what normal body temperature was for a roughly three hundred year old pirate, but clearly the hospital was looking for something closer to the standard 98.6 and he must not have been there yet.

"Everything looks good right now," the nurse spoke up while pushing the privacy curtain back into place at the head of the bed, bringing Emma back around to the present. "His wounds do appear to be healing properly which is a very good sign."

"Thank you," Emma replied with a gracious smile, not that it was really necessary. The nurse was doing her job, but Emma still felt a need to express her appreciation for all that had been done to keep Killian alive, even long before the hospital staff had even known his name. The nurse reciprocated the smile, silently acknowledging the sentiment as she gathered up all of the supplies and trash onto her tray, leaving Emma alone with her husband once again.

"I will find whoever did this to you," she whispered her promise to his ear as she returned to the chair by his side. "I just need you to wake up and give us the rest of the story." Her eyes damp and glistening with tears, she reached over to caress his cheek, her fingertips brushing lightly against his right ear while the pad of her thumb tenderly explored the barely yellowing bruises around his eye noting that his right eyelid honestly looked as though he'd simply smeared it with the smoky kohl he still used as liner. "Hope you left at least one of them with a matching black eye." Her thumb drifted lower across his cheek, then paused to trace the cloth surgical tape which secured the breathing tube in place. She wanted more than anything to help him, but out here - out in what Storybrooke residents still referred to as The Land Without Magic – she didn't have the ability to heal him and that fact was only augmenting her frustration.

Her burgeoning angst was tempered though when she felt her phone vibrating in her pocket. Retrieving it, she discovered that the caller was her father whom she'd promised to contact when they had more information so she couldn't really ignore him.

"You won't mind if I talk to my dad for a moment, will you?" she asked Killian aloud, fully aware that he wouldn't be able to argue. "Hi, Dad," she answered the call. "Sorry I haven't gotten back to you sooner, but it's been a pretty busy day so far… No, there hasn't been any change since Henry messaged you. He's still unconscious and definitely still critical, but the nurse we talked to earlier sounded fairly optimistic… Who knows?" She paused while David replied and then continued with the minute amount of new information that she had: "So Henry told you that I rode over to interview a witness with a Cumberland County deputy, right? …Yeah, it gave us a little more insight about what happened. Killian apparently let himself be taken hostage during a robbery at a convenience store down on the harbor… He had some problems with one of the sails, I guess – won't know for sure until he tells us himself… No – two robbers wearing ski masks were involved and at some point after they took him hostage, he got stabbed and ended up in the Atlantic. That's it so far… Yeah, most of it sounds like he was in the wrong place at the wrong time…"

Emma was listening to her father's next response after she'd given him the highlights of Jean Scott's story when the sight of an ever-so-slight twitch in her peripheral vision garnered her attention. The nearly imperceptible motion of Killian's pinky finger almost went unnoticed as Emma practically dismissed it as an involuntary muscle spasm. It was only the sound that followed it that stopped her conversation entirely – a strangled, guttural cry that emanated from Killian's throat as though he were being choked.

"Dad – I'll call you back. I've got to go." She didn't even wait for him to say goodbye before disconnecting the call - returning her full, undivided attention to Killian who seemed to be desperately gasping for air, unaware that the tube blocking his throat was performing that task for him. Not yet entirely conscious, he raised his hand to his throat as though he were trying to remove whatever he imagined was choking him. "Killian – it's okay…," she spoke in a soft, gentle voice trying to reassure her husband as his eyes flickered open in semi-lucid panic, but not even the sight of his wife or the serene timbre of her voice put an end to his wheezing and clutching at his throat. "Killian – listen to me – you're okay. Just relax… You're safe…"

He'd come to slowly – his mind a disoriented, discombobulated mess as he struggled to find his bearings. The smell of disinfectant assaulted his nostrils first as his fingers shifted around to explore the surface beneath them – something made from smooth cloth. One eye opened scarcely a slit, immediately squeezing closed again as the bright overhead light attacked his retina. No - too bright… He tried to take in the sound instead, listening for clues even if he wasn't yet conscious enough to be aware of what he was doing. He couldn't identify most of the noises – strange, alien cacophony to his ears, but there was something familiar…? A voice…? Emma's voice…? Was she really here? Could he get her attention?

He wanted to shout to her but he found he had no voice. Why didn't he have a voice? He struggled for lucidity as his conscious mind returned, instantly fully aware of the extreme discomfort he was experiencing. His chest ached and burned, his eye throbbed and his throat felt strange – obstructed? Now he was getting agitated – he couldn't call out to Emma because he was being choked. His hand flew to his throat, desperate to claw away whatever hand was wrapped around his neck, but there was none there but his own. What black magic was this? He tried again to cry out to his wife, but the sound only came out as a strangled growl from the back of his throat while his eyes flew open, landing on the wondrous sight of her face framed by her golden locks, but even her calming words weren't enough to quell the feeling that he was drowning all over again. At least if he were to die this time, his final vision would be her face rather than a deserted island cove.

Emma found herself not knowing how to help him, grateful to see the face of the nurse who'd left only minutes earlier return to the room after being alerted by the monitors indicating a sudden spike in Killian's heart rate and blood pressure.

"I think he's choking," Emma tried to explain what she'd witnessed as the nurse brushed past her.

"He's trying to breathe on his own," the nurse replied. "Take his hand and hold on to it so he doesn't try to pull the tube out. It's not uncommon for patients just coming around to panic with a trachea tube in place, but he could do permanent damage to his throat if he keeps fighting it and tries to pull it out." Emma wrapped both of her hands around his and pulled it away from his neck, squeezing as tightly as she could to prevent him from escaping her grasp. "Mr. Jones?" the young woman called out to her patient in an attempt to draw his attention. "Mr. Jones, there's no need to panic. There's a tube in your throat helping you breathe. I know it's annoying right now, but I need you to relax and not fight it…" His gaze shifted slightly from Emma to the nurse, but there was no recognition or focus – just a wide panicked stare. "He's not coherent enough to understand and I'm worried he's going to hurt himself… Hang on…" The nurse had already retrieved a syringe from the pocket of her scrubs and after removing the cap, pushed the hollow needle into some sort of portal attached to the IV tubing. They must have been anticipating this very reaction, Emma thought as the contents of the syringe were emptied into his IV. After a few adjustments to increase the speed of the IV drip so the medication would reach his bloodstream faster, the nurse spoke up again. "This sedative will take effect pretty quickly, but it doesn't last very long. It will help relax him so he doesn't hurt himself while I page the doctor. This is a really good turn of events," the young woman insisted.

He couldn't get his vision to focus. He could still hear the voices – one that sounded like Emma and another he didn't recognize trying to say something to him. His eyes caught a glimpse of the speaker – a woman, but brunette, not blonde but her words weren't making sense. Everything was twisted and garbled in his head but his concern was that he still felt something blocking his windpipe. Why weren't they helping him? Why would Emma stand here watching him suffocate and do nothing? He struggled for clarity, yet he could feel the pull of the darkness lulling him back into sleep. He didn't want to relax but the drug now coursing through his veins was exerting its hold and he gradually surrendered to it.

It took less than a minute for the drug to make its way into his system and Emma could feel his fingers go limp between hers as his eyelids began to droop. Now both anxious and excited, she clung somewhat frantically to his hand as the nurse scurried back to her station to try to locate his doctor. She wasn't thrilled that he'd needed to be sedated so soon after waking but understood that the panicked semi-conscious pirate could have inflicted serious injury to his windpipe or vocal cords had he managed to yank the tube out. The positive note was that he was regaining consciousness and if all went well, it was hopefully only a matter of time until Killian could fill in the missing pieces and help them track down his assailants. It also meant that he was one step closer to getting well and returning home but she found her thoughts interrupted yet again as the nurse returned with a middle aged woman clad in a white lab coat over a floral print dress whom Emma assumed was the doctor.

"We'll just need you to step outside for a few minutes," the nurse politely instructed as another person wearing hospital scrubs – presumably another nurse – entered with a tray full of supplies, none of which were even slightly recognizable to Emma. "The doctor just needs to run a few tests. It shouldn't take long and don't worry – he'll be fine."

"Of course," Emma replied cordially, managing a half-hearted smile. She didn't really want to leave, but she certainly could comprehend that she'd be in their way so reluctantly, she lowered his hand back to his side and backed away slowly, not taking her eyes off her husband until she reached the doorway. She would have remained there had the second nurse not followed her, pulling the door closed as Emma was forced out into the hallway.

"What's going on?" came the voice of her son behind her. Before turning to face him, she tried to conceal the forlorn expression she'd been wearing. He took a sip from the beverage cup he was holding as he awaited her response, but he didn't miss the fact that something was upsetting her.

"Hopefully it's something good," she replied. "Killian started to wake up."

"That's great!" the boy exclaimed, but his excitement was dampened when his mother didn't seem to emote the same. "That is a good thing, isn't it?"

"I guess – well, yes – it is a good thing, but he started to choke on the breathing tube trying to breathe on his own so the nurse had to sedate him so he wouldn't try to pull the tube out himself. Maybe it wasn't actually choking, but that's sure what it sounded like…"

"But it's not serious?"

"The nurse didn't make it sound like it was, but when she got back with the doctor, I got shushed out of the room, so I really don't know…" her voice cracked with the reply.

"Well – what does your gut tell you?" he asked her point blank, trying to remind her that her instincts were rarely wrong.

"I guess my gut says he's going to be fine," she laughed, thankful for the kick in the pants to bring her head back from the doldrums. "I just hate that I can't wave my hand and magically make everything better…" With the deputy on guard duty seated within earshot, Emma halted herself before anything else on the subject of magic escaped her mouth, certain that Henry would know precisely what she'd meant.

"It's going to be okay," he reassured his mother once again.

"And that's what I keep telling myself, Kid," she wrapped her arm around his shoulders once again, actually thankful that he'd defied her orders and tagged along so she'd have his support. "But since we're stuck out here for a few minutes, how about you help me find the vending machines? I think I'm in need of some chocolate therapy…"

Returning approximately twenty minutes later, Emma broke the last section of her chocolate bar in half as she strolled up to the re-opened door to Killian's room popping a portion into her mouth and handing the remaining one to Henry who carried her cup of hot chocolate. While it simply wasn't the same without whipped cream and cinnamon on top, it was the best she could find in this floor's vending area. She took a tentative peek inside before entering, hesitant at what might have transpired in the past few moments. The room was once again quiet and one distinct change caught her attention – a clear plastic oxygen mask now covered his nose and mouth. He hadn't yet awakened from the hasty sedative but watching him breathing entirely on his own was a welcome development.

The redheaded nurse, Jackie, if Emma's memory served her correctly, was busy hanging a new bag of fluids and making some adjustments to his IV, unfazed by her audience. She completed her task and picked up Killian's chart from the nightstand where she'd left it, making a few notes before tucking it under her arm.

"I try to sneak away to get some lunch and I miss all the excitement," Jackie said with a heavy dose of sarcasm, although the smirk on her face was clearly intending to set a lighthearted tone. "I see Kelly took good care of your husband while I was gone. The sedative she gave him should be wearing off soon, but don't be surprised if when he comes around that he still isn't able to speak. His throat will probably still be a little irritated, both from the breathing tube and from whatever volume of sea water he tried to inhale."

"Knowing Killian, he won't stay quiet for long. He'll probably be quite determined to make himself heard," Emma said with a snicker.

"I'll bring in some ice chips which will help soothe some of the irritation and he can have small sips of water. We'll see how he does this afternoon but be prepared for a lot of coughing and even possibly vomiting. He still has some water in his lungs that his body will try to expel. It doesn't help that the supplemental oxygen can dry out his throat even more, but he needs it so make sure he keeps the mask on as much as possible so his levels don't start dropping. We don't want to have to put that tube back in."

"I'll try my best, but I'm fully prepared for a battle. He can be a stubborn ass when he wants to be," Emma laughed as the nurse headed toward the door with a grin on her face as well.

"I'm on until four today. If you need me, just press that call button down there by his right hand. I made sure to place it where he could reach it himself if necessary."

"Thank you," Emma said, noting the location of the controller that housed the call button as well as the adjustment levers for the bed as she settled back into the chair beside her husband, not even noticing until her backside hit the seat that the uncomfortable molded plastic chair had been replaced with a wooden one that featured a padded upholstered cushion. It was as if the hospital staff had prepared for her to be sitting there for some time. Henry made his way back to the room's other chair by the window, but that one was still the plastic variety which didn't really concern the teen. He would have been happy to park himself on the laminate tile floor if necessary and if he'd had his choice, he'd stay here with his mom as long as she needed him, but he'd promised to return home to Storybrooke tomorrow where he would likely find himself grounded by his other mom.

All of the day's activity had Emma worn down so she shifted around to find a comfortable position in this new chair, finally leaning in as close as she could to her husband, her shoulder resting against the sturdy plastic railing on the side of the bed. She wanted to get some rest, but instead she found herself staring at Killian and noting all of the changes that had occurred since he'd first begun to regain consciousness. The head of the bed had been lowered to a less severe angle and he was no longer shrouded with the heavy blankets. He was now dressed in a standard pastel green hospital gown and covered with a crisp white sheet and a pale blue lightweight blanket both of which were pulled up to the middle of his chest. She could tell that the gown hadn't been tied behind his neck so they could easily lower it to access the bandages as needed. His right arm lay atop the covers – again likely for ease of access to the IV but his blunted left arm had been modestly tucked under the covers as though they were attempting to spare him any embarrassment or indignity.

For the first time that day, she found herself wondering how her husband had managed the foresight to bring his artificial hand. While McCallen hadn't mentioned the prosthetic he'd been wearing, Emma now realized that he must have had the gloved wooden hand or perhaps he hadn't been wearing one at all – although Jean Scott likely would have commented on something having been amiss had he strolled into her shop missing a hand or if he'd been wearing a hook at the end of his left arm. Based on Jean's own commentary, she'd spent plenty of time gawking at Killian but she hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary so his hook must be back on the Jolly Roger – wherever she was moored at the moment.

Emma sighed loudly, overwhelmed with unanswered questions and an absolute mess of conflicting emotions. She was so thrilled to have found him, but simultaneously festering with anger at the men who'd put him here – not to mention the frustration that was reaching a boiling point over those missing hours. How had he gotten from Jean Scott's store out to that island? If he'd been taken out into the bay with a destination of Peaks Island, his abductors must have had a boat. Were they not able to locate the Jolly Roger so they just disposed of him or had he gone on the offensive and ended up failing miserably? All she really knew was that he'd been stabbed in the back – and not likely by accident - and he'd nearly drowned. Had he jumped overboard and somehow swam to she shoreline or had his captors dumped his wounded body into the ocean and he merely washed in with the tide? Did he really ever plan to lead them to his stash of doubloons or was he deliberately leading them astray in an attempt to escape – feeling safest at sea? There was so much she needed him to tell her because conjecture wasn't getting her anywhere. All of the answers lay within Killian Jones.

#cs ff #cs fanfic #cs fanfiction #captain swan ff #the right place

8 notes · View notes