#management is just pointing fingers and blaming everyone else for all the problems and refuse to fix anything | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

misactor · 1 year

Text

Tantrumania

vignettes from life as a mythical airbag

This year, I turn twenty. It’s odd to think about, since I’m awful at being nineteen, and was even worse at playing the parts of the eighteen roles that preceded it. If I were wholly therapized to my fullest potential, I’d say it’s because I refuse to acknowledge myself as a person in the world, and that any bouts of self awareness debilitate me.

I’ve been to therapy, and it felt like I was talking to a wall. That’s probably a me-problem that could be solved by several more hour-long sessions that run over to match the salt stains down my cheeks, but I don’t think I can emotionally take having to explain myself to yet another woman with rectangular glasses. Instead, I’ll blame my shortcomings on the cracks that have lined my bedroom floor since childhood. I’m pretty sure I lost one of my teeth down there, and there’s probably an evil little fairy that doomed me to an eternity of suffering because of it. Sorry for dropping my incisor in through your ceiling, but I was sad.

Since cutting the umbilical cord that once pulled me taught to the place I grew up, I’ve realized just how bad I am at keeping myself alive. Realistically, it shouldn't be that difficult. You buy food, you sleep well, and you do just enough work to stop everyone you know from whispering about how lazy you’ve gotten. I do buy food — just too much, or not the right kinds. I’ve eaten canned peaches with a fork for the past week straight, and my dinner is usually blackout binged, stopping only when the single guest — my stomach — has decided it can’t take it anymore. We reconcile the table-side insults over porcelain and water, and then I fall asleep with mint toothpaste still stuck under my tongue.

Most babies cry when the cord is cut. I didn’t, and it took months before that dam ever broke. I was a good baby (see: quiet, non-disruptive, and understanding). My mother complimented me on it for years whenever she couldn’t think of anything else nice to say to me. At some point during one of her eulogies to the women she and I were when I was young, I figured out that I really am just like her. We’re both bad at keeping ourselves alive, and the only difference is that I got born into the job of lifetime airbag for the generations that choose to lean on me.

That’s me, the mythical airbag. Always too soft or not enough, too big and never comfortable. I partook in the rituals of longing that have been passed down through frail hands and tinsel wrists, only to fall rattling in my lap, looking entirely out of place. Before meals we didn’t pray to a god or deity, but instead to a figure who all of us knew — nameless, faceless, with butterfly skin, soft lips, and arms that sat like wings at her side.

There are moments when I remember the woman I conjured when I was young. She was tall, thin, delicate — she never had to open her mouth to say anything, and her eyes spoke to the masses, cutting through lens and air. She was me, graduated from the pit of Girlhood, one that I thought I could escape and leave behind simply by going on another year with the promise of becoming prettier held safely in my pocket. I kept her close, prayed to her, and laid her down next to me every night before I slept. I took care of her, watered her, fed her with clippings from magazines and porn sites, and studied the boys who sat next to me in class — following their eyes around the room and keeping a tally of where they landed.

Like all things do, she managed to crawl out from between my fingers and run, just when I needed her to curl in on herself and ready her body to be swallowed. That promise — the one I had made to myself, my mother, her mother, and all of the other women that wanted me to heal the promises that they themselves were unable to keep — had fled from me.

In many ways, that loss was the match that struck up the rest to follow. You get to an age where your baby fat isn't baby anymore, and when people in public stop looking at your parents with disapproval, and instead turn their gaze towards you. No more shirts that show my shoulders, no more pants that show my knees. No more shoes that show my ankles, and no bare wrists until I can wrap two fingers around them and watch the nails overlap. Gone is the person, replaced instead with glass shards that are carefully glued before bed. The cracks are there, but hidden. I’m equal parts girl and craftsman, equal servings of woman and ingenue. The proximity to breakage is exhilarating. I’ve dreamt of being delicate since I was conscious of myself, and if repairing a ravaged body is my way to get there, I’ll take it.

It’s around this same time that I started fantasizing about being kidnapped by one of the men who would brush up against me in the grocery store parking lot. Instead of walking away, I imagined he’d grab my waist and pick me up (see: skinny) and toss me over his shoulder. I’d spend the next days, months, and years locked in his basement wasting away until all that was left was the phrase “you look just like your mother”. She was beautiful, and small, and that would be a triumph. After enough time, he’d see her instead of me, no more girl but woman, and fall in love.

Now, there’s nothing girl left about me, and the fantasy ends differently. We don’t make it to the basement, because he kills me in the car. I let him chop me up and serve me to his friends much later, and I smile while they chew and compliment him on his cooking. It feels good to be desired, and if this is what it takes, I’ll live in his freezer for as long as he wants me to.

Why, exactly, do I hate myself?

I write an anonymous online diary entry in hopes that someone who I know but doesn’t know me will read it. When they do, I hope the person they conjure looks nothing like me but acts and thinks the same.

Fall in love with my shadow, with the spit I’ve left on the sidewalk. Pity the way that I forget to clean up after myself, and leave a carcass when I’m gone. Admire how I taste, remember it while you devour, and don’t comment on how little is left for the rest of the dinner guests afterwards.

Most importantly, if you require your pills pre-chewed by your mother before you swallow, I suggest you look away.

#may artur #misactor #misact #writing #prose #digital diary #substack

1 note · View note

somewhatgreatexpectations · 3 years

Text

Rooftop Conversations (Wanda Maximoff/ Reader/ Yelena Belova)

Hi everyone!

This is a little shorter, but hope you all enjoy!

Summary: Reader shares a complicated history with Wanda. What will happen when Natasha introduces her sister to the problem? Who will reader end up with?

“Y/n.”

The closer you got the tower you called home; the more anxiety began to bubble in your chest. You had been away for over three months now and the entire time you were away Yelena refused to accept any of your calls. Admittedly they were few and far between due to circumstances, but the rare instances when you were able to get your hands on a phone, the other woman would always be miraculously busy.

You didn’t blame her.

Not in the slightest. Still, with every flimsy excuse Natasha gave you whenever you asked to speak to Yelena, you couldn’t help but feel that you were losing a part of yourself. Yelena was woven into your being and being shut off from her was something that was… entirely your fault.

It always made your heart ache though. To know she didn't want to even speak to you. To be away from her. There was so much about her you missed. Like her voice, her laugh, her jokes…

You just missed her.

“Y/n!” You jumped slightly and turned your attention to Steve who was glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. “Everything okay?”

All you managed was a weak nod as you focused back on the world around you. It was something you had to do often over the last few months. “Fine.” You replied, turning to face him as you awaited whatever it was he wanted to say.

“You can stop fidgeting with your necklace. We shut down all the bases. That’s all we could do.” He eventually said.

It wasn’t until Steve pointed it out that you realized that your fingers were fiddling absently with the charm that was hanging from the necklace Wanda had given you before you left. “What are you talking about?” you questioned, your brows furrowed in confusion.

Steve gestured broadly in your general area with one hand, while the other hand remained on the controls of the quinjet. “Whenever you get nervous you start fiddling with the necklace.” His hands returned to the controls as he shifted his attention. “Like a safety blanket.”

Grumbling absently, you folded your hands and looked out the window like a child who had just been caught doing something you weren’t supposed to. “Says the one with the pocket watch.”

In response, Steve shrugged. “Touché.”

You smirked and leaned back in your chair. “That’s what I thought." He chuckled. "Besides, I know we did all we could on the mission. I’ve come to terms with Dr. Wilkerson getting away, without his bases of support though he’s nothing.”

“Is that not what you were nervous about?” Steve prodded.

You shook your head. “I’m worried Yelena is going to hate me forever.” You admitted, your hand once again flying up to fiddle with the charm on your necklace.

Steve whistled lowly. “Still no word from her?” You shook your head again. “All you can do is be honest, kid. Earn her forgiveness. While you may have had good intentions, you lied. Even if it was to protect her. She reserves the right to be angry about it.”

“I know.” You replied. “I agree entirely, but… I don’t want to lose her. I can’t lose her. She-… She means… Everything to me.”

There was a moment of silence. “Do you love her?”

It had been months since you had allowed yourself time to think about the inner workings of your heart, yet the answer remained the same and came with no hesitation. “Yes.”

Steve nodded. “Does that mean you’re over Wanda then?”

The question took you by surprise and suddenly the pendant burned under your touch, like every nerve ending in your body went haywire. Overwhelmed with the thought of the two women that unabashedly occupied your heart. You feebly let your hand fall back to your lap.

Again, silence hovered in the air until, “No.” You replied softly, knowing it was the truth. Knowing you had no reason to lie to Steve.

Again, there was no hesitation in your answer.

“Sounds like you still have a lot to figure out then, kid.” Steve reached over and pat your shoulder sympathetically, “Between you and me though, I always thought you and Wanda would find your way back to each other. You’ve always been like magnets you two.” He admitted. “Natasha disagrees with me. She seems to think that you and Yelena are the most irritatingly perfect match. Her words not mine.”

You narrowed your eyes slightly. “You and Romanoff better not be placing bets on my love life again. You remember what happened last time, Rogers.” You warned with a point of your finger.

Steve chuckled and raised his hands innocently. “No bets were made. I’m just telling you the information.” He paused slightly. “Though I will say if it was a bet, I'd probably win since I did say Wanda would be the one to ask you out originally because you’d be too nervous to even get a word out. You won me fifty bucks that day.”

You punched his shoulder. “I can’t stand any of you.”

“That’s what families do.” You rolled your eyes and chose not to respond as you both distracted yourselves with your own tasks.

Just over an hour later Steve spoke again. “Hope you got enough thinking done because we’re touching down at the compound in five minutes.”

You sucked in a breath as the clouds opened up and the sharp points of the familiar building filled the sky before you.

Suddenly it was as if you blinked, and Steve was lowering the quinjet onto the waiting platform. “It’s good to be home.” You mumbled as you gathered what little you had and walked off the jet with Steve.

Before you could get far, you were met with an armful of someone else causing you to drop everything in your arms to catch the other person.

When the familiar floral scent invaded your senses, you quickly relaxed and held on tighter, relishing in the moment. The comfort that you hadn’t felt in months. “I missed you too, Wanda.” You whispered into her ear as you tucked your chin over her shoulder.

“You have no idea.” Wanda replied as you both held tightly to each other. You faintly heard Steve mumble how he would take your things inside for you, but his words barely registered as you familiarized yourself with the touch you hadn’t felt in months.

Suddenly, it felt like you were grounded again. Like you had been drifting freely and now, being back by her side you felt anchored again. Connected to the world in a way that mattered again.

Sure, you had managed to speak to Wanda briefly a handful of times over the course of your mission, but those sparse minutes were nothing compared to the sensation of actually being in her arms once again.

“It’s good to see you again.” You said leaning back slightly and taking in her every feature, every speck of color in her eyes. This was the longest you had gone without seeing her since the day you both met. “How did you know we were coming back? We wrapped up a few days early, I thought it would fly under the radar.”

Wanda smiled sheepishly back at you, and you couldn’t help the way your own lips pulled up endearingly at the sight. “I may have convinced Tony to program a new feature to FRIDAY that would let me know when you landed.”

A small chuckle of amusement slipped pat your lips. “Yeah? How did you manage that?”

“I may have pulled the Stark missile card.” Wanda answered with a small shrug.

“Didn’t know you couldn’t be so devious, Maximoff.” You teased as Wanda playfully dusted the invisible dirt off her shoulders.

That was when another voice interrupted the moment. “Really? You didn’t?” You turned your head to find the source of the interruption, though from the voice you knew exactly who it was. “I’ve known for a while now.”

Wanda pulled away from you and looked away, rubbing her own arm uncomfortably. “Nat,” You warned. “I just got back; can we not fight first thing?”

Natasha looked between you and Wanda for another moment as if she was contemplating her choices before opening her arms in silent invitation. “Fine, I’ll play nice. Sorry Maximoff.” Wanda nodded in acknowledgment. You suspected she was still terrified of the other woman.

You glanced at Wanda to be sure she was okay before walking over to your best friend and embracing her just as tightly, finding comfort in her embrace. Comfort in knowing that they were all okay while you were gone. That was all you could have wanted. You missed this. All of it.

Regardless of how chaotic it could be at times.

“I assume you didn’t manage to play nice while I was gone. No wonder I stayed away so long.” You said playfully as Natasha pinched you side. You swatted her hand and pulled away in protest. “Is this how you show how much you miss me?”

Natasha rolled her eyes, “Miss you being an idiot? Sure.” She nudged you playfully. “It’ll be nice to have you back though, the compound hasn’t felt the same without you.”

“It really hasn’t.” Wanda agreed, wincing when she saw the blank look Natasha gave her.

You shook your head, “Nothing has changed.” You lightly rested your forehead on Natasha’s, so she could focus on you, so she could hear the sincerity of your next words. “I did miss you, you know? No need to be snappy.”

Natasha finally cracked a smile. “I know, I missed you too.” She lightly nudged your nose with her own before pulling away and ruffling your hair.

You smiled back at her but couldn’t help but look over Natasha’s shoulder a moment later. If Natasha knew you were back, then it was only safe to assume that… “Is- Is Yelena in her room?”

Amusement began shining in Natasha’s eyes. “Couldn’t even go ten minutes without asking about her, could you?” Heat quickly rushed into your cheeks. “She’s on a mission with Clint, should be back later today. Just light recon about a minor disturbance a few cities over.”

“Surprised you let her go without you.” You mumbled, already anticipating the moment of Yelena's return, mentally preparing all the ways you could earn her forgiveness.

“Tony had me on a separate assignment until this morning.” Natasha explained. “Besides, she’s with Barton, they’re both in good company. Safe.”

You nodded, if Natasha wasn’t worried then you had no reason to either. “I-” You lowered your voice. “Will you let me know when she’s back? Don’t tell her I’m here until I get a chance to talk to her, please, I don’t want her to avoid me anymore. I want to apologize. To make it up to her.”

Natasha analyzed you for a moment, analyzed your pleading tone before nodding. “I’ll give you this one shot because I know you only did what you did to protect her... I would have done the same.” She looked over your shoulder before looking back at you. “Now, I think I’ll head inside. We can catch up later. Don’t do anything that will make me have to kick your ass.” She warned.

Before you could utter a reply, your best friend had disappeared into the compound. “She actually talked to me once while you were gone. It was about a mission report, but still, she’s not ignoring me anymore.” You heard Wanda say from behind you.

You chuckled slightly as you turned to face her again, gesturing for her to follow behind you. “That’s actually great news to hear. I miss being able to spend time with both of you.” You leaned against the railing of the landing pad and let the wind traveling through the air be the only sound for a moment.

Wanda mimicked your position, her arms brushing yours, your own pinky shifting slightly to be in contact with hers.

It was like Steve said, there was something magnetic about you both and it felt even stronger after the separation. You couldn’t help but feel like you wanted to be closer. Your free hand raised to fidget with the charm on the necklace nervously.

“Still wearing the necklace, I see.” Wanda noted, her eyes shining happily in the light of day.

A faint blush quickly spread over your cheeks, and you managed a weak nod, your hand once again falling from the charm. “Steve says it’s my safety blanket.”

Wanda’s smile widened. “I didn’t know if you’d even use it since you had given it back to me after we broke up.”

You shrugged halfheartedly. “We’re past that. It represents more now. It represents you.” The sound of Wanda’s breath hitching caught your attention and you couldn’t help but feel your heart hammer in your chest. You just hoped she would change the subject, the vulnerability felt all too much in that moment. "It was nice to have on the mission."

“How did the mission go? I assume well since both you and Steve are back in one piece.” Wanda eventually asked, breaking the charged silence much to your relief. She always was good at reading your wants.

You nodded faintly, eagerly responding to the change of topic. “It did. We shut down every base we set out to, which was all of them.” You could see the happy smile form on Wanda’s lips, and you continued. “We did everything we set out to do except catch Dr. Wilkerson.”

Wanda’s smile fell almost immediately. She knew Dr. Wilkerson was your greatest enemy, your greatest fear. “Are you okay?” As the last word fell from her lips, her pinky moved to rest over yours, as if she herself wanted to be closer. To comfort you.

In response you turned you hand over in silent invitation and Wanda accept the offer immediately, her fingers tangling naturally with your own. “I feel okay, Steve still thinks we can catch him. He won’t get too far… I know he wants to take me back.” Wanda’s fingers tightened against yours. “Don’t worry, without the bases, without his minions? He’s nothing. Powerless. It’s only a matter of time.”

“The day he tries to come after you will be his last.” Wanda said seriously, her eyes darkening at the mere thought. “He won’t hurt you again, Y/n.”

You squeezed her hand, you knew Wanda would never hurt anyone, but her protective nature may change that. You’d never want to put her in that position. “I know, Wands. Don’t worry, Steve and I will find him. I’ll be okay.”

Her lips turned up faintly. “I know, I’ll be here to make sure of it. I’ll protect you, Y/n.”

“And even though you're infinitely stronger than me, I will protect you.” Wanda giggled slightly and you smiled back at her.

For a moment you both just stared at one another, allowing yourselves to get lost in the moment, moving closer and closer until you could feel her breath fan across your lips. You quickly looked away. Not ready to take that step. Not ready to ruin the leaps and bounds of progress you had made with her.

“Now fill me in on what I missed while I was gone.” You said in hopes of brushing over the minor traces of awkwardness that lingered in the air.

That was how both you and Wanda spent the remainder of the day, catching up on everything that had happened in the last few months, the hours slipping away with ease. There was only one thing that could ruin a relaxing evening like that.

And it was the sight of a smaller quinjet landing a few feet away. Your heart began hammering in your chest because the only other ones out on a mission were Yelena and Clint.

The woman that had occupied your mind so deeply was now just seconds away from you.

Except when the doors to the quinjet opened and Clint was the only one to step out, looking battered and bruised. Your stomach dropped at the sight.

You ran over, Wanda following closely behind. “Clint, where is Yelena?”

It was like Clint had just seen a ghost, his eyes widening even more than they already were. “Where is Natasha?”

“Whe-”

“WHERE IS NATASHA!” He yelled, his voice reverberating in the air around you.

Bile climbed up your throat in tandem with the panic you felt squeeze at your chest as the three of you ran into the compound in search of the other woman.

A few moments later you found her lounging in the main room of the compound with a notebook in her hands. Natasha immediately looked up when she heard the sound of panicked footsteps enter the room. “Clint, what-”

Clint quickly interrupted her, his panicked expression making you sick as you anticipated his next words.

“They took her. They took Yelena.”

And just like that, the world stopped.

And that's all folks! This chapter was more of a set-up for the unraveling of the remainder of this story which I now know will be 12 parts total. Sorry for no Yelena in this part. As always, thoughts and comments are always welcome!

Previous part: "Necessary Lies"

Masterlist: "Omen"

Tag list:

@abimess // @helloalycia // @imapotatao // @madamevirgo // @magicallymaximoff // @women-am-i-right @myfavoriteficss // @spicysashimi // @olsensnpm // @natasha-danvers // @xxxtwilightaxelxxx // @7thavenger // @aimezvousbrahms // @yourtaletotell // @purplemeetsblue // @b0mbdotc0m // @cristin-rjd // @trikruismybitch // @hopelesslyfallenninlove // @when-wolves-howl // @b-5by5 // @mionemymind

@sighsam // @simonsbluee // @pxterstrk // @heyyoweveryone // @euphoriaszn2 // @nosense-blog // @stressed-but-a-mess // @tomy5girls // @prentisshoe // @ghostyfacey // @imasimpfornatashamaximoff // @3and30aresoultwins // @gayarchnemessis // @https-sunshine // @donnietarantino // @lezzzbehonesthere // @chaekhan // @cxld-blood // @loomontoia // @ouat2017 // @anxiousgoldengirl // @lostandsearching //@liladoesfanfics // @just-a-normalpersons // @wandamaximoffsrings // @marvelwomen-simp // @hopemikaelslay // @im-in-lesbians-with-u // @paumxmff // @hitchgoonie // @yelenabelovasgf // @psychadelichues // @amourtentiaa // @yeeterthekeeper // @daniescady // @iliketozoneout // @megsi98 // @cyberbonesworld // @liver-casserole // @Andy-aj-rose // @chonisbestmistake // @gaylor-okay // @rwritesstuff // @ithrewmypieforglee //

#wanda maximoff #wanda #wanda maximoff fic #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda marvel #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x you #wanda x reader #wanda x y/n #yelena belova x you #yelena belova x reader

404 notes · View notes

ppersonna · 4 years

Text

half baked - pjm | m

baby we two distant strangers. i know you don't speak my language, but I love the way she's talking to me - love talk, wayv

↳ summary- park jimin gets a job at your bakery, and you can’t help but find yourself annoyingly attracted to the cocky man.

↳ rating- explicit/18+/nsfw

↳ pairing- park jimin x reader

↳ word count- 5.2k

↳ genre- smut, fluff

↳ warnings- penetrative sex, oral sex (m receiving), dirty talk, lightly dom!jimin, sub!reader, slight enemies2lovers, sex in a kitchen, please god don’t fuck in a kitchen its a health code violation, spanking, nipple play, cum play, fingering

↳ a/n- ahHH!HHHHhhh!H! i blame this 100% on @wwilloww for merely putting the idea in my head and i had to take it and run with it. also thank you to @kimtaehyunq my babe/my loml for the amazing banner! i truly do not deserve u but ily so much. and thank you to @chimoona @ladyartemesia @xjoonchildx @taetaewonderland for being the best mf squad a lady could have and beta-ing this for me! i love you all so much! i hope you enjoy silly cocky jimin!

Two cups of flour, one and three quarters cup sugar, 2 cups of butter.

You know the recipes by heart. In fact, one might postulate that the recipes themselves are the sole contents of your heart.

You live and breathe baking. It is your solace and your truest love.

Which is why it is all nearly thrown into catastrophe when Park Jimin comes into the picture.

It starts on a rather busy day. You’re hard at work in the kitchen, prepping the finished products and presenting them in neat little boxes, when your best friend and co-owner of Wake ‘N Bake, Willow, lets out a frustrated squeal.. You turn your head to find her covered head to toe in flour, making you snort as she shoots you a playfully ominous glare.

“Shut up,” she sniffs as she attempts to pat some fine dust off of her, to no avail. “I only have two hands and about fifty things to do with them at the same time.”

Your lips part to reply something equally sassy when the bell over the front door rings, notifying you of a paying customer. Grabbing a towel, you quickly wipe off cookie debris and throw it at your best friend to do her best to clean off as she follows behind you.

You pause as you take stock of who stands there. A handsome man arrives at the cash register and peers around, presumably looking for an employee. He is gorgeous—ethereal even and looks like someone who walked out of the pages of a magazine. His bone structure screams model, and you can’t help but feel the stirrings of desire for the beautiful stranger.

“Hi! Welcome to Wake ‘N Bake!” Willow sings cheerfully, despite being coated in baking flour.

The man eyes her with a glint of humor in his eye, and Willow’s cheeks turn a hue of pink when she remembers her current appearance.

“Hi,” he speaks. His voice is smooth like butter, and gentle. It makes you feel weak, like you’re warming in the very ovens that your pastries rise in.

“I saw your shop from down the street and I had to stop in. Your desserts look amazing. Is the owner here by chance?”

Your smile fades as he looks around the room for someone else, someone beyond you and your best friend.

Of course.

No one believes that two young women could start and maintain their own business. Everyone assumes that some older, well-off man was at the helm while you and Willow toil for minimum wage.

Your arms cross over your body in clear displeasure.

“We are the owners.”

“Oh!” The man looks surprised but not put off. “Awesome. I was hoping I could… talk to you about, err—… a job?”

His face is sheepish and Willow nearly coos at the sight.

Unfortunately, it appears you and your best friend have warring ideas.

“Yes!” She chimes at the same moment you dead-pan a resounding ‘No’.

Your heads spin to stare at each other—Willow’s eyes wide in disbelief and yours in annoyance.

“We need the help!” She huffs.

“We can do things on our own, like we always have,” you remind her.

Willow gestures to her flour covered clothing in desperation.

“We clearly could use help with how successful we have gotten!”

To your chagrin, she has a point. It might be nice to have someone to help in the front while the two of you manage the kitchen in the back. It would increase your productivity by double what you’re able to do now.

But there’s something about his attitude coming in that rubs you the wrong way. Like, he’s too pretty. Too confident. Too nice.

“What’s your baking experience?” You ask as you turn back to the hopelessly lost, yet ever eager man.

“Oh, err—,” he stutters. “I worked at my friend Jin’s restaurant. That served desserts, too?”

You shake your head in disdain while Willow claps her hands in excitement, a puff of white flour dust pluming into the air.

“Perfect! So you could do sales!?”

“Yeah! I can do sales, no problem.”

You turn your gaze back to Willow who stares at the man like he is her knight in shining armor.

“Willow?! Can I talk to you in the back?”

She knows that tone—the one that tells her you’re not pleased with her decisions. She nods once and politely excuses the both of you from the man before heading back towards the kitchen.

“What in the world is wrong with you?!” She asks the moment the swinging door closed.

“Me?!” You’re incredulous—hands flying in the air. “You’re over here trying to hire the first Joey Hot-Lips who walks in off the street!”

Willow’s anguished face falls and turns into a devilish smirk as she leans back on her heels.

“Aha! You’re attracted to him,” she notes as if she figured out the world's greatest mystery. “That’s why you don’t want him here.”

“What? No!” Your defense crumbles around you. “Did you hear him? He totally acted like he didn’t believe we could be the owners!”

“Oh, come on, that was a simple mistake and you know it! You’re just being protective.”

You ‘humph’ a non-committal response—unable to argue.

You are protective of your bakery. It’s your combined love child with Willow. What started as a dream between cocktails with your best friend became a real brick and mortar reality. You had been through enough trying to open it you can’t help but feel skeptical of anyone trying to get involved. Many tried to discredit your ability to maintain such a successful shop, and you’d rather continue to run it with no one else than see it fall at the hands of another.

“Just as I thought,” Willow hums. “In that case, he’s hired!”

You’re given no chance to reply—the flour-covered girl pushes through the swinging doors and announces to the handsome man that he’s hired and free to start the following day.

“Great! Thanks!” His smile is sincere—blinding and breathtaking, and you hate how much you want to see that smile again.

He leaves as quickly as he arrived, waving goodbye as he exits the chiming door.

“Now, you need to deal with whatever issues you have about letting others into the shop,” she says pointedly, pushing a finger into your arm gently. “And whatever issues you have with wanting to bone him.”

“Willow!” You gasp. “I do not want to bone him!”

“Sure, babe. You think you can fool me but I know you too well. Just try not to fuck him in the kitchen, alright? I don’t need the health inspector up our ass.”

The next early morning starts at 4:30 am, with you elbow deep in cookie dough for a catering order. You’ve nearly forgotten about the new employee starting until the man himself strolls into the back kitchen as if he’s worked there for years.

“Hey!” He says cheerfully, two cups of coffee in his hands. “I got you a coffee. Willow said you’re a nightmare without some in the morning.”

Your eyes narrow at the man. It’s unfair how delicious he looked so early; while you look like a frizzy mess who rolled out of bed and walked into work (which you did), he looked polished and crisp and clean. It’s infuriating as much as it’s glaringly attractive.

“Thanks,” you mutter as you pick cookie dough off your hands and pull off your plastic sanitary gloves. “Every girl loves hearing she’s a nightmare.”

He chuckles behind his steaming cup and places yours on the workbench next to you.

“Those were her words, of course. I’d never call you a nightmare.”

You easily flush, then chastise yourself for allowing him to make you feel so weak so early in the morning.

“To be fair,” he continues. “I don’t even know your name.”

“___,” you sigh as you grab the coffee and bring it to your lips. “And you?”

“Jimin. Park Jimin.”

The first sip of coffee is like a soothing hug. He somehow knew how you took your coffee—two creams and two sugars.

“I didn’t know how you liked it, so I just guessed.”

“Good guess.”

Jimin smirks and looks proud of his accomplishment.

“You seem like the type of girl who likes balance to her sweetness.”

You stare at him curiously over your own steaming paper cup, unsure of what to make of his comment.

“Good morning to the love of my life!” Comes the voice of your best friend entering through the back door.

You roll your eyes in amusement as she teeters in, peppy and perky as she always is this early.

“Oh! Hi, Jimin.” Her cheeks turn a familiar shade of rose as she realizes he heard her. “I didn’t know you were here yet. That’s just a… thing we say to each other every morning.”

“Cute.” Jimin smirks at you, making your stomach lift with unwanted butterflies. “Where do you want me?”

Underneath you, beside you, above you, any possibly way...

You shake your head quickly to push away the sexual thoughts of the gorgeous man taking you from any position. No, you refuse to let your mind wander there.

Willow finishes washing her hands and putting on her apron before she nods to the fridge.

“If you can get the milk, eggs, and butter out, we’ll use you for creaming.”

Your cheeks heat impossibly as Jimin smirks even wider.

“Oh, I’m fantastic at creaming.”

Your hands pause from where they massage dough while you close your eyes and breathe, before lifting to glare at your best friend who wears a faux-innocent look.

“I’m sure you are, Jimin,” she chimes virtuously, before getting to work.

The next few weeks were a haze. You’re so caught up with graduations, birthdays, weddings and major events that your time spent at the shop overtakes your time sleeping, breathing, existing in any way that isn’t baking.

Even Jimin was busy. Despite your initial hesitancy, he was proving to be an excellent third member of your team. He’s a pro at sales—you’re sure his good looks and the mostly female clientele helps—and he pitches in in the kitchen without fail. He even tries his hand at decorating cakes, with only one frosting-based spill. You would never give Willow the satisfaction of telling her outright, but she made an excellent decision in hiring the dazzling man.

But it doesn’t stop your annoying heart from fluttering every time he comes close to you—rubs elbows as he helps you roll out dough or smiles at you from across the workbench as he stamps out sugar cookies. You refuse to allow yourself any thoughts on what it would taste like to lick dough off his fingers or how he would look bending you over the countertop to take you from behind.

You only allow such thoughts at night, safely tucked into bed with your vibrator cranked to the highest setting.

It doesn’t help that Jimin solidifies himself in your life by introducing his handsome and dopey best friend Jungkook to your gorgeous and clumsy best friend Willow. The moment they laid eyes on each other, you knew you were doomed to have Jimin in your life with or without the bakery.

And you weren’t sure how to handle that notion.

Was Jimin flirting with you simply because you were there? He seemed to have no problem flirting with the customers. Sure, the shop has never made more money than when Jimin works his charms and seduces women of all ages to buy the extra cookies, cannolis, and cakes—not that you watched or glared or hated every second. No, of course not. It was for the good of your business and the angry jealousy demon inside you would need to stay firmly locked away.

Except, it’s on a particularly crowded day at the shop that your jealousy gets the best of you.

You’re up front assisting Jimin by boxing and bagging the treats he rings up.

You know he’s flirtatious, but it’s when he goes the extra mile for an extra pretty girl that you lose your cool on him the moment the customers leave.

“Do you have to eye-fuck every single co-ed that walks in this place?!”

Your hands fly up in frustration, and Jimin watches you with a soft gaze.

His silence and knowing smirk makes you continue.

“Seriously? What the fuck was that about?! You’re acting like you’re about to bend her over right here in front of us! Jesus!”

Willow hears the commotion from the back and comes forward.

“What’s going on here?” She asks suspiciously.

You point towards Jimin who maintains his poised demeanor.

“I’m reminding Jimin that work is not a place to sexually engage our customers!”

Willow rolls her eyes as she pulls her apron off and grabs her coat from the hook.

“Whatever, you’re being ridiculous. Jimin’s never been inappropriate. Plus, he’s making us a fuck-ton of money,” she sighs. “You two can close up without killing each other right?” She eyes you in particular.

You cross your arms and huff, glancing at the clock to find you have two hours still until closing. “Why? Where are you going?”

Willow’s annoyance fades away as if it never existed.

“Jungkook is taking me to the Museum of the Printing Press!”

You can’t help but choke a laugh while she pushes your arm.

“Shush! You know how much I love them! And he totally surprised me with tickets!”

Willow can’t shake that lovesick look in her eyes and your heart melts a little. She’s your best friend and you’re thrilled she’s found someone who wants to indulge her in her nerdy fascinations.

“Go have fun, babe,” you smile sincerely. “We can take care of closing. Now, go fuck on a letterpress or whatever!”

Willow snorts and hugs you tight, bids goodbye to Jimin, and exits the store.

Now that your quick anger is gone, you feel sheepish around the man who has yet to reply to your tirade—but you refuse to stick around under his piercing gaze.

“I’ll be in the back,” you mumble under your breath before slipping into the kitchen before he can get any word in edge wise.

You spend the rest of the evening monologuing an apology as you prep ingredients for the next morning and clean your workstations. The shop is closed, doors locked, and Jimin is somewhere at the front of the house finishing his duties.

“‘Hey, I’m sorry for the way I acted’,” you practice out loud. “Hm—no, not humble enough. ‘Hey Jimin, I was a real bitch’, too degrading? Maybe something like, ‘Hey Chim, can I call you Chim? That was fucked up, wasn’t it? Haha.’ God!” You throw your rag down in a huff, frustrated at your inability to form a decent apology.

“You can call me Chim, if you want,” a voice speaks from behind you.

You squeak in surprise and turn around, clutching your apron in your hands as you find Jimin leaning against a wall with a smirk on his face.

“Only my closest friends call me Chim, but I think we’re close enough.”

You swallow hard and nibble at your lip.

“I’m assuming you heard that whole… thing,” you mumble anxiously. His nod confirms that he heard your entire play-by-play of the apology you would deliver to the handsome man.

“Yeah,” he licks at his lips. “You know, you’re really cute when you’re jealous.”

“J-jealous?” You nearly trip over your own tongue. “I wasn’t—, I’m not jealous!”

Jimin begins a slow approach towards you, striding as he keeps his sparkling eyes on yours.

“Oh?” He quirks his head, making his soft hair fall into his face. You desperately want to push it away, cup his cheek, kiss those ridiculously plump lips.

He can tell you’re staring at this mouth and it makes his smirk turn nearly feral.

“So, you weren’t jealous? Not a single bit?”

He inches closer and you can feel your heart tighten in your chest and your stomach twists in on itself in excitement, in nerves.

“N-no,” you whisper, unconvincingly.

“You didn’t want to be the one I was making eyes at? The one who ‘gets bent over the counter’ as you said?”

“I—,” Jimin cuts your words short as he stands a breath away from you.

“I guess if you weren’t jealous, then I don’t have to tell you you’re the one I really want to bend over the counter.”

You’re sure your heart stops beating—positive that it will fall from its place in your ribs into your feet.

“What?”

Jimin cups a hand to your cheek and smiles as he steps even closer.

“If you’re not jealous, then I don’t have to reassure you you’ve got nothing to be jealous over.”

Your lips run dry, throat parched as if you’ve never had a sip of water. Jimin is standing so close to you you can feel the heat coming off of him in waves.

“Jimin—,” you breathe and he continues forward until he presses you against the countertop and crowding you into the metal and wood.

“Tell me you were jealous.”

You gulp, eyes seeking his for an answer, for any information. Is he playing you? Does he know you’re hopelessly attracted to him? Does he find it humorous to tease you when Willow isn’t here to insert herself into your flirting.

“I was jealous,” you admit slowly. The words are hard to release, but once they do, the floodgates open. “I wanted to be the one you flirted with. I was jealous because I want to be the one you notice.”

Jimin smirks, then pulls your face in quickly for a heated kiss.

His lips are just as plush, just as soft as you imagined. They’re puffy and sweet and he tastes like one of the treacle tarts you made that morning. He must have had one with lunch, and you find yourself addicted to the way he tastes with your creations on him. You wonder what he’d taste like with your arousal coating that tender, plump mouth.

He bites at your own lip and tugs, chucking under his breath as you mewl your desire at the slight hint of pain.

“Fuck, you’re so hot when you’re angry like that,” he breathes as he presses his forehead to yours. “I nearly popped a boner while you were yelling at me. I could tell you were jealous, and it made me want you more.”

It’s hard to hear him speak so candidly—it makes you groan.

“Jimin—fuck,” you sigh. “I’ve been attracted to you since you walked into this goddamn place.”

He smirks and snags your lips up in another desperate, yet quick, kiss.

“I know. It’s why you didn’t want me to work here.”

You grumble after he pulls away, tired of the teasing and wanting nothing more than to stop talking and start doing.

“I didn’t like you because you assumed I wasn’t the owner.”

He smiles and rubs at your arms, a softer expression crossing his face.

“No, but I hoped you were.”

It’s silent for a moment and you let his words wash over you as he continues.

“I was attracted to your authority. I could tell you were important here somehow, just didn’t know in what way.”

You swallow your growing guilt. You had clocked Jimin entirely wrong.

“Jimin, I’m sorry,” you start.

“Hey, hey, I already heard your apology, remember?” He smiles. “Although, I could think of a great way to mend the wounds if you’re interested. No pressure.”

His soft smile becomes a devilish grin instantly and your body lights with instant arousal.

“What did you have in mind?”

His lips press to yours again and you nearly lose yourself completely in his embrace. Your arms circle his neck and he holds you tight at your waist, before pulling away from you, yet again.

“I happen to be very good at creaming, if you’ll recall.”

You can’t hold back a snort of laughter, that quickly gets covered by Jimin’s hot lips, one’s he will not pull away from you any time soon.

“You want to, right here?” You ask as he trails a hot line down your throat.

“Yeah, do you?”

You vaguely remember Willow’s threat of not fucking in the kitchen, but find you can’t seem to care an ounce.

“Fuck yeah, I do.”

Jimin needs to hear no more. He pulls you close and kisses you with the remaining amounts of pent-up passion and emotion he feels for you. He’s grown to love the way you take charge, the way you move through the building like you own the place—because you do. He loves the power you radiate and wants nothing more than to make you give up that power for a single night, to him.

“You wanna do this… all the way?” He asks, re-assuring himself that he’s not throwing himself at his boss.

“I want you, Jimin. I want you to bend me over this workbench and fuck me until I’m crying for more. Please.”

He grins and lays a hand on your neck, fingers tracing the gentle lines.

“I might not let you boss me around,” he warns.

“Take control.” Your eyes are blazing with need. It makes him smile, and he gives the moment a slight pause.

“Then, get on your knees and show me just how sorry you are for yelling at me.”

You’re sinking to your knees quicker than you can comprehend. Jimin is almost thrown at how instantly you caved and submitted to him. He watches as your eyes stay fixed on his and your hands work at the button of his tight jeans.

“That’s right,” he murmurs. “Right where you belong. No one else.”

You preen—heart warming at the idea that you’re the only one he wants kneeling before him and tugging his cock out of its confines.

It springs forward, and it pulls your gaze from Jimin’s magnetic eyes. It’s long and thick, just like you suspected all those nights with your vibrator stuffed where he should be. Your mouth waters at the sight and you lean towards it to mouth at it gently—pressing soft open-mouth kisses to the tip.

“Oh, shit,” Jimin gasps. Your fiery mouth feels like heaven on his cock. It’s something he’s equally dreamed about—spent many nights fisting his cock to the thought of you.

You take your time, licking tiny stripes around the head and down the shaft, until Jimin becomes weary of the teasing.

“Please, take it all.” His request is so genuine, so needy, that you’re loath to deny him.

He slips into your mouth with ease, slicked up just enough by your trailing kisses that he slides in and hits the back of your throat in seconds. His eyes close as he feels his cock-head hit the back of your throat—a tighter and more constricting feeling in your already impossibly tight mouth. It feels like absolute bliss, and he’s gasping for air after mere moments of you holding him inside your mouth to the hilt.

He doesn’t need to speak; you know what to do. Your mouth works him in and out, tongue swirling around any open real estate of his cock. His moans echo around the tile of the kitchen walls and he’s sure that the sight of you on your knees with his cock disappearing in and out of your mouth will have him cumming in no time.

He steels himself, makes his body behave because he wants to enjoy this and the way you feel. As good as your mouth feels, he’s desperate to know what it’s like to slide into that cunt he’s spent too many nights dreaming about.

“Oh, fuck,” he whines as you make delicious, slurping noises from the gathering saliva. It’s a wet squelching sound that makes him even harder than what he believes is possible—all blood in his head now completely rushed to his dick for his pleasure.

“B-Babe!” He calls as he feels his balls tightening. He doesn’t want to cum, not yet.

He grips your head by the scalp of your hair and pulls you off his cock that is seconds away from losing control.

“Please, I’ve got to fuck you,” he nearly begs.

You wipe at your mouth with the back of your hand and smirk, licking the tip of his cock teasingly before standing up to his full height.

Jimin’s hands fly to your expensive leggings that you insist on wearing to work while he kisses you. The kiss is feverish, frantic. It’s full of tongue and teeth and desperate moaning against each other as he pushes down the pants and delicate panties, and cups your cunt in one hand.

“Oh fuck,” you whisper against his mouth as the pad of his finger slides against your clit.

“You’re fucking soaked. All from sucking my cock?” He’s cocky and sucks a mark onto your neck as he massages the bundle of nerves.

“Don’t be arrogant now,” you warn with a smile.

He presses his tongue to your ear and licks a stripe and chuckles.

“I think you like it when I’m arrogant. Your pussy sure seems to like it.”

He emphasizes his words by slipping two fingers into your channel and fucks into you, scissoring you open. He cuts off any chance for you to retort by launching his lips back to yours and prowling around your mouth with his tongue.

His fingers are small but fill you so deeply, and you’re sure his hand is drenched with your arousal.

“J-Jimin, please,” you gasp as you pull your mouth away to breathe in deep. “Please, just fuck me already.”

He growls into your ear.

“I thought I told you you’re not in charge.”

He spins you easily until your back is pressed to his chest. He grabs the hem of your shirt and lifts, throwing the shirt away and quickly making work of your bra clasps to join the shirt on the floor.

His hands cup your full breasts and you can’t help but whimper at the feeling of his soft and warm hands. He feels so good against the chilled skin of your chest and he tweaks and thumbs your nipples until they stand perky and erect.

“I’ve always wanted to bend you over this counter,” he muses in your ear as he pulls a nipple harshly. It makes you squeak out at the pain, then moan as the pain turns into a sizzling, pleasurable spike that runs through your veins.

“Every time I would catch you staring at me, I just wanted to fuck your cute little throat until you were gagging around me.”

Your eyes close as he continues his abuse on your perky nipples and whispering his deepest thoughts about you.

“I wanted to lift your cute dresses and eat your cunt until you’re wailing loud enough all the customers can hear.”

“Jimin,” you nearly cry. “Please, fuck me.”

You can feel his hardness lining up behind you, rubbing at your sodden folds to cover his length in your slick juices.

“I like it when you beg.”

He kisses at the juncture of your neck before letting his teeth graze over the spot and bites down—right as he pushes your face down to the workbench and slides his cock into your spread heat.

He bottoms out easily. You’re soaking wet and he buries himself to the hilt in one fluid motion. He groans out loud—stunned by the heat and wetness of your pussy and how tight it grips him.

“Oh, holy shit,” he gasps as he gives himself and you a moment. His hands grip at your waist, one hand coming to rub the tender skin of your supple ass.

“Jimin, fuck, you’re so big,” you whine.

He brings his hand up, then slaps it down on your ass hard, hard enough that the crack echoes around the large kitchen. You cry out in delight, in pain, as the reverberation of the stinging wraps around you.

“Fuck, you take me so well, princess,” he whines as he sets a pace. Your ass meets his hips and claps with each thrust, and he punctuates every few pumps into you with another hard slap to your ass. He wants you screaming his name, crying out for him loud enough that the neighbors know who he is.

He’s relentless in his pumps—gripping your hips tight as he fucks you deep and senseless. Your eyes roll back into your head at how well he works your body. Your tits rub raw against the wood of the workbench and you’re weeping fat tears of pleasure as Jimin continues his plight.

“God, I’m gonna cum, baby,” he warns. “Cum on my cock, princess.”

You slide a hand down to your clit, eager to add the ultimate piece to what makes you unravel. He grins and pumps into you harder, slaps your ass repeatedly until he knows it’s going to leave bruises.

“That’s right, baby, rub that pretty little clit,” he urges. “God, I can’t wait until you you sit on my face and let me eat this fucking cunt for hours.”

You blubber a response of desire, nearly begging him for more and more, as you swirl your fingers around the tight bundle. You’re peaking towards the summit of your climax, ascending to a point you’ve never gone before.

“Fuck, Chim!” You scream. “Gonna cum!”

Your warning falls on deaf ears—you’re cumming and pulsating around his thickness instantly and Jimin moans mix with your own to create a symphony of pleasure.

“Good fucking girl,” he coos. “Your cunt is so good to me, baby. Mmph—let’s frost this cake, now.”

Instantly, he’s groaning as he pulls his cock free from the vice-grip of your cunt and jerks himself twice to completion, allowing his hot seed to splatter against the tender flesh of your ass where he’s left a clear print of his hand. The warmth soothes the battered skin and you shake your ass teasingly as he continues to stroke himself through his climax.

“Ohhhhh, my god,” he breathes as he finally comes down from his high.

Your face is resting on the cool surface of the wooden workbench as your breathing slowly settles back to normal.

“That was fucking good,” you whisper with a smile. Jimin bends down to press soft kisses to your spine, before grabbing a towel to gently clean his cum off your beaten ass.

“Willow’s going to kill you for fucking me in the kitchen,” he warns with a laugh as he kisses the same spot he came on.

“It takes two to bake a cake, buddy,” you tease.

He laughs and brings a hand down to your untouched asscheek, making you squeal with delight.

“That’s not how the saying goes, but sure, doll.”

The next morning, you’re hard at work making a five-tiered wedding cake with Willow at your side, when Jimin throws open the door.

“Good morning to the loves of my life!”

Willow chokes on her own air while you hide a giggle behind your cake covered hand.

Jimin approaches the pair of you while she splutters and gasps.

“What?” What happened last night after I left?”

Your cheeks heat and Jimin wears a face of pure cockiness.

“Oh my god,” Willow gasps as her eyes open wide, snapping your tender ass with her rag. “You did NOT fuck in my kitchen!”

taglist - @preciouschimine @nyamjinnie @unicornnomore @bangtansbun @theneighborhoodfangirl @cyberbunny21

#bts smut #bts jimin #bts park jimin #park jimin smut #bangtanarmynet #jimin smut #bts fluff #bts au #bts alternative universe #bts jimin smut #heartsforbtsnet #ficswithluv #bangtan smut #bangtan jimin #park jimin #bts imagines #bts fics

2K notes · View notes

the-enamorando-deity · 3 years

Note

Oneshot where Sara Lance and Ava Sharpe take care of a badly wounded and unconcious Reader? Fluff and Angst please 🙏 ❄

i need this to happen like rn

sara lance x ava sharpe x reader

no warnings i don’t think???

Sunken Like Steel

This was entirely Nate’s fault. Or at least, that was what you were going to tell everyone, if and when you woke from whatever had taken away your consciousness. In reality, it had absolutely nothing to do with Nate whatsoever. If anything, he was the first one in the water, turning to steel to sink faster to reach you before you vanished to the depths.

He got you out with help from Mick, your waterlogged clothes doubling your weight. It wasn’t an accident you ended up in the water, though, nor was it an accident that you’d been wearing so many layers. The Legends, yourself included, had been facing a portal maker the last week or so, and every time he threw you across time and space, you ended up in the most freezing cold places, usually the tip of an iceberg or the desert at night.

This time you were prepared for him, but something had changed in his methodology. He’d set off a bomb in the centre of your group, portal-ing himself somewhere safe, leaving you all to feel the blast. What he hadn’t counted on was you diving for him from behind, getting caught in the middle of the blast, but still managing to fall into the tail end of the portal.

There lay the problem, as he appeared on the dock of a nameless river, with you falling from the sky not far behind him. He went to fire at you, but noticed you were unconscious as you plummeted towards the water. You hit it with a sickening splash, sinking slowly to the bottom as he watched on. Rather than wait any longer for your irritating team to show up, he ran, leaving you to drown.

Sara and Ava had split up the team to search as many locations as possible, Zari making Gideon check for any residual portal energy from the past few minutes. There were only three options, and they immediately moved.

Ray, John and Ava wound up at a bar in Taipei, while Zari and Charlie found themselves in a lion den halfway across the world. Mick, Nate and Sara had appeared at the dock just as you hit the water, and the man you had all been hunting was gone.

You didn’t wake up when you were pulled from the water, but Sara managed to get the water from your lungs using her lifeguard training from summer camp. You don’t know how they got you back to the ship, but Mick later let you know that Sara didn’t let go of your hand the whole time.

Ava refused to leave your side from the moment she sat down, not even wanting to move her eyes away from you. She and Sara both blamed themselves for everything, not even letting themselves sleep as they watched you lay there, unmoving. Gideon couldn’t determine if you would wake up at all, which only made them want to leave you less.

The others all came to check on you, but found only silence from Sara, and the most basic of reports from Ava. They were too worried to eat, until Nate insisted that it wasn’t what you would want. They needed sleep too, as it had been days, and they were also starting to stink up the room.

He agreed to watch you, but Sara wouldn’t let go of your hand. ‘I swear, Nate, that dude better be dead by the time we get to him, or he’s going to wish he was.’

‘I know, Sara. Come on, I’ll let you know if anything happens,’ he assured them.

Ava and Sara left together, exhausted beyond words. They felt guilty for leaving you there, knowing that although you loved the team, your connection with them wasn’t as strong and you might panic. They didn’t know how hard you’d hit your head, if you’d remember anything, but they couldn’t do much else.

Surviving on caffeine had only exhausted what was left, the sugar highs and lows taking a toll that you would never wish on anyone. Ava’s head leaned on Sara’s as they walked, holding each other up as always, something you hoped would never change. You had heard them arguing before all of this, their opposing views on taking down your current fugitive sparking a fire that wasn’t going to be easy to coax down.

And yet, it seemed that all it took for them to stop was for you to choose a third, unexplored option, ready to risk your life to prove a point. Tensions had been high recently, some close calls making everyone doubt themselves. Sara tried to argue in Ava’s favour, while Ava almost completely shut her out, insisting that all their approaches were wrong, and that they needed more time.

Sara’s impatience led to them having a blow up in front of the team, only to have you confront them later on and tell them how ridiculous they were being. They almost didn’t listen, until you proposed an experiment, but refused to tell Ava the parameters no matter how many times she requested.

‘Okay, so,’ you started, in the middle of the room before them, ‘Ava’s usual approach is assess the situation, listen to your team for information, observe the area for emergency exits and possible ambush locations, hydrate to prepare for participation, and attack for summation.’

You had tried so hard not to laugh at the eye rolls you got from the pair, but it had stopped them from being against each other for a moment.

‘Sara is usually run in headfirst, die, get brought back to life, do it again,’ you grinned, watching her stick up her middle finger. ‘But, she has since adapted since leading the team. Instead, she now uses herself as bait, leading out all attacking parties, so we can surround them, or get surrounded on purpose, because we work outwards and strong.’

She looked a little chuffed with that, nudging Ava with her elbow all proud, before growing suspicious. ‘Wait, what’s the point of this?’

‘There’s a third option,’ you smiled, holding up your arms. ‘Gideon, show them the Y/N Approach Simulation.’

Ava and Sara left the room in agreement that you should never be in charge of anything ever, and that maybe each other’s approaches weren’t so bad apart, but together, they could adapt and make every situation winnable.

If only they hadn’t doubted themselves this time, the situation something neither had thought about before, and were so unprepared for, they panicked. But then they knew, thanks to you, that there was always a third option, even if it was terrible and stupid.

You didn’t awake until after they’d returned, hair messy and still damp from their shower, Ava falling asleep on Sara’s lap as she laid there. Sara’s fingers ran through your hair as she sat beside you, your cheeks twitching as your eyes began to open.

‘Hi, sleepy head,’ she cooed, a tired smile on her face. ‘Babe, Y/N’s awake.’

Ava bolted upright, flustered as she turned to you. She threw her arms around your neck and kissed your forehead softly, then grabbed your chin as her expression turned serious.

‘Do that again, you better hope you wake up a million times faster, because this was super not cool,’ she ordered, before smiling and sitting on the bed beside you.

You both turned to look at Sara, who had gone rather silent since you had awoken, only to find her gently snoring away, asleep between you and Ava, hand still curled in your hair. Ava held your hand and looked between the pair of you, grateful her girls were still safe, and now under her watchful eye.

‘Ava?’

‘Mm?’

‘This was all Nate’s fault.’

‘Of course it was, sweetheart,’ Ava nodded sarcastically, giving you that look she gave Sara when she tried to lie. You needed to work on your bullshit, it seemed, but Ava was just glad the humour you had used to endear yourself to them was still very much intact.

taglist: @marvelfansince08love @mymarvelwomen @imnotasuperhero @natasha-danvers @veteranwerewolf95 @monihaswritersblock @natasharomanoffswife @xxxtwilightaxelxxx

#asks #anon #❄️ anon #fanfiction #request complete #sara lance #ava sharpe #sara lance x reader #ava sharpe x reader #sara lance x ava sharpe #avalance #sara lance x ava sharpe x reader #white canary #dc #legends of tomorrow #lot

208 notes · View notes

amlovelies · 3 years

Text

Kindling

big thanks to everyone on discord for your help and feedback on this one 💜. Julia and Cyn rescue some hostages and then make out in an alley 😉

fandom: fhr pairing: Julia Ortega/f!sidestep (Cynthia Basri) rating: M, death/violence mention as well as some mild spice words: 2.9k read on ao3

Even without your telepathy, it’s easy to know where to go. The craned necks of passersby and the distant sound of sirens all point towards Los Diablos’ latest disaster. Ortega had been frustratingly vague in her message, no information, just an address and a ‘come quick’. Not that you really need details. There’s nothing else you’d rather be doing.

There had been a time when you had to work to slip behind the barricade unnoticed. Back when you were still an unknown vigilante, as likely to be a nuisance as an assistance. When you had to amplify your usual projections: ‘don’t notice me’ and ‘there’s nobody there.’ It’s still uncomfortable letting them drop, feeling the moment when you are seen, when you are recognized. Feeling little excited exclamations of ‘Sidestep’ and ‘hero’ in the minds around you.

Uncomfortable, unfamiliar, but also real. You spend so much of your time hiding, just a ghost in a crowd, dancing at the edges of life, but not now. Not when the officers give a respectful nod in your direction. Not when they look at you like someone who matters, like someone who can help.

You allow your mind to expand, to scan the city block around you as you take in the scene. Brushing over the crowd, you sense nothing to be concerned with, just morbid curiosity and anxiety. A customer is worried about their favorite teller. Exclamations that this is a nice neighborhood, things like this aren’t supposed to happen here. Never mind that they have no idea what ‘this’ is, they’re just irritated at the disruption to their daily routines.

You know the moment Ortega notices you by the lift at the edge of her mouth. She throws a smile in your direction that makes your stomach knot before returning her attention to the officer in front of her. You still don’t know what to do about this new thing. Fuck, you shouldn’t even call it a thing, that makes it too real. So what if you’ve been kissing, so what if you’ve let her see your face? You’re sure it’s just a passing fancy on her part, a new way to stave off boredom, and you are too stupid and selfish to stop it.

She nods at your approach, and you take the opportunity to listen in. An established routine, it’s happened more than once that the LDPD failed to give the Rangers crucial information. Sometimes it was simple incompetence, like an officer in over their head who was unable to recall the right details. Not always though. Not everyone has such an appreciative viewpoint of the Rangers, and some have a real problem with having to play second fiddle to a woman. Want to see her knocked down a peg or two (or in that case, nursing a couple broken ribs).

Even if she hadn’t asked, you would have checked. Would have let your consciousness spiral out, gentle fingers touching lightly against the minds around you, getting a fuller picture of the situation. It’s too ingrained a reflex, your primary role, reinforced in endless hours of training. Always meant to be a fly on the wall, not a part of the action, only there to report and monitor. Not anymore. You are so much more now.

Seems like a botched robbery. The ringleader is a fire boost, Pyradical, and he has at least two modded goons with him. That’s more firepower than the LDPD can comfortably deal with. It makes sense they called the Rangers in. You’ve heard the name before. He’s new on the scene and young. Early twenties or so, another desperate kid taking a chance with the boost drugs and looking to get rich quick. He was blamed for the robbery of La Brea Jewelers last month. Nasty. Last you heard, the security guard was still in the ICU recovering from the burns, but that had been a solo job. He’s getting more daring.

Ortega gives you a look as the officer mentions hostages, and you switch your focus. A year ago, this would have been outside your range, but not now. A deep breath as you push your consciousness out to toward the darkened bank. Heat, intrusive and suffocating, blazes across your consciousness and your lips pull back in a snarl in response. You change direction, not trusting yourself to touch the knotted maelstrom of Pyradical’s thoughts. Even that brief connection was enough to make your muscles tense and bunch.

The hostages are easy to pinpoint, beacons of terror and despair. The officer had said four hostages, but you only count three. Did they separate the hostages? Or is this an inside job? You need more information so you let your consciousness dip down, no longer a light brush, but letting yourself connect with one of them.

You rear back almost instantly as the scent of burning flesh fills your nostrils. A steadying hand on your shoulder keeps you from wobbling.

“You okay?” Anathema asks. Her brow is furrowed until you give her a small nod. Her frown returns, however, as you relay what you had seen in the teller’s memories. The branch manager was dead, Pyradical holding a flaming hand to his face when he refused to input his half of the vault combo. You need to move quick.

It’s a simple plan: you and Anathema will sneak around back and focus on getting the hostages out. Ortega will create a big showy diversion and keep Pyradical busy. Getting attention is what she does best after all. Power has been cut to the building, so you don’t have to worry about any alarms. Anathema rubs her hands together and you grimace as the sharp scent of acid fills the air. You’ll never get used to the sound of metal bubbling as she presses her palm against the lock. You close your eyes and focus on the minds inside. The world narrows down. Narrows down to just this building, you feel yourself settle into your body. Awareness focused, reflexes honed, like an arrow ready to be fired, listening and waiting to react.

The mod guarding the back door goes down easy. He had no hope of dodging your punch to his throat. Especially not when his brain is telling him you’re still a foot out of reach. He goes down and you keep moving.

It’s stuffy inside, warm even for Los Diablos. Sobs, muffled and hopeless escape from behind the teller line, but no sounds of alarm. You step over the prone body and into the dim interior of the bank, Anathema following close behind. Any second now Ortega and her distraction should arrive.

Glass shatters as her familiar form crashes through the front window. A roar of surprised anger erupts and chaos descends. It takes an effort to ignore the sounds of the fight, the fizzle of Ortega’s mods and flesh hitting flesh, you have to ball your fingers into a tight fist as you resist the urge to join her. Orange and white light paint the walls in bright flashes as you draw closer to the hostages.

You catch an intention and roll to the left as a bullet narrowly misses you. Before you exit your roll, Anathema is already moving, her fist flying towards the shooter’s face.

You trust her enough to turn your back on the fight. The hostages look dazed, eyes unfocused and tears staining their faces. The fear rolling off them hits you like a wave and you strengthen your shields. You make quick work of the zip ties binding their ankles and wrists. One of them begins to bolt, fear clouding his judgment. He’s only focused on the safety promised by the daylight shining through the shattered window, not one the flames shooting from Pyradical’s hands.

It’s a good thing you’re quick, hands flying out to grab the back of his jacket and pull him away from the danger. Heat billows in waves from the lobby. Even through your mask, your eyes burn from the acrid smoke as cheap décor goes up in flames.

Ortega’s voice taunts from the lobby. You can’t make out the words, but you know the tone. As long as she’s laughing things are under control.

It’s easy enough to soothe the hostages, just a gentle brush against their minds, a promise of safety, of making it out of here alive, to trust, to be ready. A firm command to their minds and they follow you out the door.

You lead the hostages to the waiting hands of the paramedics who are waiting with shock blankets and oxygen masks. Your objective completed you turn back to the building. Smoke pours out the shattered window mixing with the omnipresent Los Diablos haze. If you don’t end this fight soon the whole building is going to go up.

You’re nearly to the building when Ortega leaps out the window.

“Get down!” she yells. Not that you are given a choice as she barrels into you. The wind is knocked out of your lungs as she tackles you to the ground.

“What the fuck—” but the words are lost in the explosion that shakes the ground.

Your ears ring. Ortega’s lips are moving, but you have no idea what she’s saying. Probably some dumb quip.

This is not the time or the thing you should be focused on, but she’s so close. It feels different. Different now that she’s kissed you. Different now that you’ve felt her lips against yours. Fuck, you want to feel them again.

You should focus on the fact that there was just an explosion, but instead your whole world has shrunk down to the weight of her body pressing you into the ground. The concrete is hard and painful under your body. There’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

“Was that really necessary?” Your voice has none of the steel you were hoping for. It’s a gulping flustered thing.

“Better safe than sorry,” Ortega says with a wink. “Besides, I’m quite comfy.”

“Really? Is that all you think about?”

“Only around you,” she says as she presses her lips down against yours. Even with the mask in the way, you can’t help but gasp. She doesn’t need her mods, or even to touch your skin to leave you feeling electrified.

And then she’s up, all movement and action, turning back to the burning shell of the building. Anathema emerges, one of the goons in tow, and you breathe a sigh of relief as Julia surges forward to help her. Smoke rises in thin tendrils from her suit, and there are patches where the fabric has burned away to reveal her pale freckled skin underneath. Skin that is untouched and undamaged despite being caught in the explosion.

Pyradical is dead, going out in a blaze of glory rather than allowing the Rangers to bring him in.

The hostages are shaken up, but physically fine. The goon you’d left unconscious by the back door is carted away in the back of an ambulance, the other in the back of a cop car. He’s lucky to be alive. Anathema shielded his body with her own during the explosion. Not that he’s feeling particularly grateful right now.

The action is over and you let yourself slip into the background. Anathema has already left, back to HQ for a shower and change of clothes. Ortega holds court answering questions and smiling for the cameras. You should leave, head home, but you can’t bring yourself to yet. Not with the glances Ortega keeps shooting you.

At last satiated, the press leaves, and with them the rest of the crowd. It’s oddly peaceful. The fire from the explosion has long since been put out, though smoke still hangs in the air. The surrounding area is almost empty, now that the excitement is over, people go on with their day.

You fall into step with Ortega as she walks to where her motorcycle is parked. It’s a natural instinct to envelop her in your projection, to let her pass unnoticed as well. A young woman nearly walks into her, and Ortega shoots you a questioning glance. You shrug, she should be used to this trick of yours by now. It’s just easier to wrap you both in a bubble of anonymity. To not have to worry about sharing her with the public.

Her smile turns wicked, and something in your stomach flutters, twists, knots. You don’t have the language to describe the things that smile does to you. You can’t read her thoughts, but you can guess her intentions. This is when you should dodge, should step to the side, distance yourself. You don’t. You let her grab your hand and pull you into the dimness between two buildings.

Her hands are quick, nimble, as they roll up the edge of your mask with ease. As if it was a regular practiced movement, and maybe it is becoming one. How many times have you let this happen now? You’d have to stop her if she tried to remove the whole thing, but she doesn’t. Only your mouth is exposed, and only for a moment, before she captures your lips in a kiss.

This is so much better than that ghost of a kiss during the fight, so much better when you can feel the brand of her lips on yours. A small sigh escapes you, and that’s all the invitation she needs to deepen the kiss. Her tongue darts out, teasing and quick; one hand grips the back of your head. Her nails scrape against the nanoweave of your mask as she angles you exactly how she wants you.

Oh, this is foolish. This is playing with fire and knowing that you will get burnt, but not caring. You have so many scars already, what is one more?

The kiss breaks and she pulls back. You chase her lips, wanting more, needing more. Another drag, another kiss, you’re used to wanting things that will end up hurting you.

“You’re too damn tall,” you huff. You need her closer, but you don’t trust your footing balancing on your tip toes. Your arms wind around her neck as you attempt to pull her down to your height. She concedes bending down to kiss you again. She chuckles against your lips, the reverberations traveling down to your toes and sending a shiver down your spine.

Before you can protest, her hands move to your waist, and she lifts you with an ease that draws a surprised squeak out of you, one that is cut off as she captures your lips again. Your legs wrap around her waist as if by instinct, pulling her flush against you. Nothing but your skinsuits between you. You trust yours to stop a knife, a bullet, but now it feels so insubstantial. Unable to protect you from hungry press of Ortega between your thighs as she holds you pinned against the brick wall of the alley.

Adrenaline from the fight is still coursing through your veins. Your very blood transforms into an electrical current, dancing through your veins and grounding you on the feel of Ortega’s lips. You wonder if this is how she always feels. Your fingers knot in her hair, pulling it out of her careful braid. The small curls at the nape of her neck wrapping themselves around your fingers much like how your limbs are wrapped around her.

You should stop this, eventually you will have to stop this, but that thought is a small voice compared to the screaming of your body. A voice drowned out by the groan Ortega makes as you nibble on her bottom lip, and her grip tightens on your thigh. For a few moments the rest of the world ceases to exist. There is nothing but this moment. You don’t think, can’t think of anything but her. Her hands and her lips and the blood pounding in your veins. You thought you felt alive during that fight? There’s no comparison.

Eventually, the kiss breaks, and she rests her forehead against yours. You both are breathing heavy; your pulse is a wild erratic thing. A softer kiss this time, not quite a peck, still letting herself linger, but the frantic need of a few moments ago has dissipated.

Your legs wobble when she sets you back down on your feet. From the smug smile on her face, you know she notices. You wish you had a sharp quip at the ready, but you’re still too drunk on her.

At least pulling your mask down means she can’t see your facial expressions.

You walk back to the bike in silence. She’s closer than she needs to be. Her hand keeps brushing against your arm. Gentle, accidental touches which you know are no accident at all.

“Come back to HQ with me?” she asks as she climbs onto the bike. “I’ll order pizza and you can keep me company while I do paperwork?”

You don’t have to read her mind to know she isn’t thinking about paperwork. Not with the way her eyes trail over your body. Letting you know she is looking, appreciating.

“Only because I’m hungry,” you lie as you take the helmet from her outstretched hand and climb behind her.

“Don’t worry,” say says with a wicked laugh, her hand squeezing yours where it rests on her waist. “I’ll make sure you’re satisfied.”

#fallen hero #if: fhr #lovelieswrites #julia ortega #fhr ortega #oc: Cynthia basri #fic: cynthia basri #ship: you'll be her ruin

40 notes · View notes

oddaodd · 4 years

Text

Her Eyes

· Tommy Shelby arranged marriage imagine ·

warnings : arranged marriage.

(Heapings of fluff and a pinch of angst if you squint)

Y/n never imagined her family would have the nerve to marry her off as part of a deal between the one Thomas Shelby and her father, who had insisted that he couldn’t properly trust the Shelbys if they weren’t united as a family, but there she was, standing outside the church ready to meet the man she would spend the rest of her life with. Her father was a powerful man with many important connections and despite Thomas’s desire to never marry again after grace, he found himself having to accept to the deal. When he fist saw her, scarcely some hours before their wedding, he was intrigued by her beauty and kind eyes, but he put on a nonchalant facade as he introduced himself to the woman whom he would have to live till death do them part.

“Thomas Shelby” he outstretched his hand.

She stared at him for a bit “y/n” was all she managed to say as his rough hand wrapped around her soft one with a firm shake. There was something about him, almost like dream she couldn’t quite place. He was a very alluring, almost hypnotic man and she felt oddly drawn to him just a few seconds after first laying eyes on him.

“Lets get this over with, shall we?” He monotonously said, breaking her out of her reverie before stepping into the church.

The first few months were really hard because Thomas refused to let her get close to him, both emotionally and physically, Grace’s memory still freshly lingering around him. Y/n however was determined to turn their marriage into something more than just a business deal. She would play with Charlie, she would bring Tommy tea whenever he was at home, and she always tried to get him to smile which wasn’t easy, but after a lot of persistence, slowly but surely Tommy let her in. Truth was, despite the circumstances he was somehow glad he met her. Thomas never thought he would find a match to his wit but there she was. They could spend hours and hours just talking as time unsuspectedly passed by. She was an unusual person to say the least, smart, kind, caring, prim and proper, sometimes ladylike, sometimes not, and with very expressive eyes. That’s the first thing he noticed about her when he saw her for the very first time, the pool of mixed emotions in her eyes before their wedding, she didn’t look perfectly sad, but she didn’t look perfectly happy either. He found himself enthralled by her eyes and in the end they were what made him relent to her subtle yet kind acts of affection. She found herself quickly falling for him and he too did for her, although he would never admit it to anyone least of all, to himself. Their relationship grew to become something along the lines of a friendship and she always made sure to give him space not knowing quite sure if he reciprocated her feelings or not, he was a difficult man to decipher after all.

One night he came home to find her sitting in the grass out in the garden all by her lonesome just staring at the sky and his stars. As soon as she saw him she invited him to join her. He sat next to her under the quilt, but he couldn’t bring himself to look at the stars when she was sitting next to him. He had had an overly tense day and seeing her there, toying with the grass between her toes and a quilt over her shoulders, just enamored by the night sky made all his worries disappear for a while. . Thomas had learnt a lot just by looking at her, she was brought up to be the perfect high society lady, but when she was alone or with him or Charlie she could really be her own carefree self, knowing they wouldn’t judge her and he felt glad he had become one of the few who could see her like that. She felt his stare and turned round to look at him, she could feel her cheeks going red when their eyes met and in the heat of the moment, she leaned in to kiss him. A tiny pang of insecurity poked at her insides when he didn’t immediately kiss her back, thinking that she might have had misread the look in his eyes, she pulled away, but he stopped her by placing both his hands on either side of her face and looking into her eyes where he could see a strange strain of vulnerability before kissing her. Hesitantly she kissed back and they became so entangled in each other that everything around them became non existent. He made love to her that night with the stars as witnesses and after that, their relationship flowered into something else.

Time passed and they grew closer and closer together. She earned the trust of the rest of the Shelbys and soon enough she felt like a part of the family, even more so than with her own family.

Every year Y/n´s family held an event to “ rejoice with friends and family” as they put it, but y/n knew it was more of a “I´m richer than you” parade to which all of her family’s friends and relatives were invited to. Knowing that her mother would make a fuss if she didn’t attend, she and Tommy found themselves in y/n´s family home one Friday evening, dressed in the heights of fashion, drinking the most expensive champagne money could buy and sitting through her mothers inquiries about their married life. Y/n´s mother was relieved that y/n had married after all, her biggest fear was any of her daughters not living up to the standards according to which she brought them up to be.

“So, Y/n dear, are you with child yet?” Her mother asked in feigned sweet tone.

Y/n choked a bit on her champagne, not expecting her mom to blatantly ask that. Tommy turned to look at her and after taking a drag of his cigarette replied with a serious face“Not yet Mrs. Y/l/n”

“Oh but you are planning to aren’t you?” Her mother insisted.

“Not at the moment mother” y/n chimed in a bit too harshly for both her and her mother’s liking. Tommy grabbed her hand underneath the table with his free hand to reassure her a bit, but it did little to put out y/n´s feelings of discomfort “and anyway, why does it matter to you? You already have plenty of grandchildren from my sisters” she said this time with a politer tone.

“All im saying dear is that you are not getting ny younger and I would certainly not blame Mr. Shelby here” her mother said pointing at Tommy “ if he were to decide the deal he made with your father isn’t worth enough to put up with a woman of your likes” she finished before taking a sip of her glass of champagne and looking over at the couple to asses their reactions.

Y/n opened her mouth to say something, but she couldn’t find the words she needed. Tommy took her silence as an opportunity to get his word in after another long drag of his cigarette “with all due respect Mrs. Y/l/n, I think we are way past the business part of this marriage”

Her mother gave him a forced smile indicating that she didn’t believe a word of it before replying with “of course you are Mr. Shelby”

Tommy smiled at her mother in reciprocity before putting out his cigarette and turning to look at y/n “ Let’s dance, love” he said.

They made their way to the dance floor and swayed to the music “Now I know why you weren’t exited to come” he said looking down at her, trying to lighten her up a little. She barely nodded, too consumed in her own thoughts, her mother’s words ringing In her ears. She would be lying if she were to say it hadn’t occurred to her before, that the distant nagging thought of Tommy only pretending to enjoy her company for the sake of not having another problem to deal with hadn’t kept her up some nights in the past.

“Let’s just go home” she mumbled into his chest.

And so they did and for the next few days Tommy could see that she was a bit distant, sure she always smiled and acted like everything was fine, but no matter how well she acted, Tommy could see right through it, all because of her eyes. She was a proud woman and he knew she would never admit her mother’s words had gotten to her.

One day she was working on some of the flowers she had planted across the property as Tommy approached her. He must have been very silent for when he called her name she gave a little jump.

“God you scared me” she said with a laugh, wiping a bit of sweat of her forehead “Are you in a habit of startling unsuspecting gardening women?” She teased.

“Only on you” he replied looking down at her.

She could see there was something in his mind, but she wasn’t quite sure what it was so she stood up shaking some of the dirt that had collected on her dress before loosely wrapping her arms around him so that she could still see his face and inquired “ What can i do for you dear husband?”

He raised his eyebrows and his mouth curved up ever so slightly. She smiled at him knowing she was the only one who could get him to smile and waited for his response.

“Marry me” he said in all seriousness.

She gave him a coy smile “ But we are already married” she said doubtfully, not knowing what had brought Tommy to request such thing.

“Aye, but i want you to be my wife knowing that I married you for you, because I love you , not as a part of a business deal” he earnestly said before producing a small golden ring with a tiny orange opal from his coat pocket and grabbing her hand (that was covered in dirt) in his “ So, Y/n will you marry me?”

She wasn’t sure what she was expecting but it wasn’t that, it was the fist time Tommy had verbally proclaimed his love for her. Her eyes welled up in tears, a whirlwind of emotions raging inside in full display. Tommy brought one of his hands to her face to wipe away the one tear that did dare to fall. “Of course I´ll marry you Thomas Shelby” she said grabbing his hand in hers and looking at how he, with his other hand effortlessly slipped the ring on her finger before chuckling tearily and crashing her lips on his. They had a small ceremony right there on the garden that same weekend, saying their vows in front of the Shelby family. Unlike their first weeding, everyone seemed happy and even though it wasn’t an “official” wedding, they both knew it was the one that mattered.

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby one shot #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby one shot #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders one shot #tommy shelby fluff #thomas shelby fluff

906 notes · View notes

yandere-sins · 3 years

Note

this isn't from the alphabet thingy (so if youre only doing requests for that rn feel free to ignore this!!) but could u maybe write something for a reader who spends the entire academy phase pining for dimitri and then after the timeskip when they've maybe already buried their feelings, dimitri goes yandere for them maybe?

Thanks for requesting! :3 Let’s go!

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

This much should be okay, right?

Even though you had this nagging feeling in the back of your mind, it wasn’t like you two were doing anything especially strange. Dimitri just... held you. A little too awkward and a little too tight, sure, but after all, he went through, could you blame him? Five years ago, this would have been a dream for you, and even though the world around you turned into rubble and dust, you couldn’t ignore the soft flutters in your stomach now that your wish was fulfilled.

You, too, needed comfort after all that happened.

Back at your time in the monastery, you had only ever dared to glance at the prince. Admired his diligent and firm way of thinking and talking, but also the soft smile and tender laugh falling off his lips. Every day you swore it would be the day you’d approach him, reach out to him. Yet, every day you hesitate, watching the chances you had, dwindle away and so did Dimitri. More and more did he start to distance himself from you and everyone else, for that matter. He may had his struggles - and you, for one, would have loved to be his confidant back then - but he never let them on, even if they were written on his face in pain. Only as things started to become more and more convoluted did something inside him break, vanishing all the light from his eyes and cladding him in somberness and hatred.

Dimitri was nothing like his former self anymore. If he spoke - and he did so rarely - it was hard listening to him, painful even. Before you stood a broken man, someone whose heart had been ripped out and trampled on before reviving him. You didn’t want to be the one pointing out his flaws, not when he was so important in the upcoming battles, and you were thankful for his presence. But he also wasn’t the man you fell in love with anymore, that much you had to realize for yourself.

And yet, who’d have thought that of all people, you were the one he’d let close. Dimitri had stopped talking to so many of your comrades. Stopped eating and moving, spending hours inside the cathedral, and not rarely did you wonder what his mind did in times he stood dead still.

Perhaps, something about the lost reality Dimitri embodied at this time was what made you take extra care of him. You, who got back so much strength from seeing the Blue Lions reunite, have both the prince and Byleth back from the presumed dead, just couldn’t abandon the boy- or rather, man you once loved. Even when he hissed and screamed about you at first whenever you approached him, it soon made space for more silence, and you calmed down, knowing you weren’t one of his victims-to-be.

All you did was bring him food and told him about the news around the monastery. When you took heart and approached him more closely to get his cloak, carefully pulling it off his shoulders with only an exasperate sigh falling off his lips, you almost jumped for joy, even though the garment was stinking abominably and washing it was more challenging than fighting in battle. But it was all worth it for the moment when you returned it, Dimitri adjusting it with daggers shooting from his eyes at you, only for him to mutter a quiet ‘Thanks’ as you left again. To you, this was the highest praise you could have received all your life.

So now that he decided to hold you, you couldn’t refuse. In the end, you didn’t know what happened to him or what he truly was thinking. But in these uncertain times, everyone could need someone to hold and rest their head on. Even a presumed monster like Dimitri, or maybe, especially Dimitri, needed it. You didn’t want to assume anything or think too highly of yourself, but perhaps your dedication of not letting him decay like he did before was the reason he chose you for a change of mind.

Nothing would ever be the same as it was, and you weren’t the naive teenager anymore you had been before. The teenager who still believed that nothing bad could happen in this world and Dimitri was a literal saint sent from the goddess. But your body wasn’t lying either, hands shaking as you returned his embrace, putting them on his back carefully, scared you’d make him disappear if you touched him.

Of course, nothing like that would happen just from your touch, and you took a deep breath to calm yourself. The happenings of the days... they still weighed heavily on your mind too. But how hard must it have been for Dimitri if you were already suffering? Another fight, another important soul perishing from the world. The head of house Fraldarius may not have died in vain, as his last breath was used to put some soul back into the empty, murderous shell Dimitri had been. So how much must the former prince be suffering right now that he’d chose to trust in your company instead of anyone else?

“Thank you,” he whispered quietly. It was only you and him and the wind howling around you two on the balcony you two had retreated to, but he still spoke as if his words were only meant for your ears and no one else.

At first, it had surprised you greatly when he approached you himself, smiling nonetheless. You were almost convinced you died; otherwise, how could you explain the change of heart he had gone through?

“For not giving up on me. I am thankful that you were there,” his voice sighed into your ear, and you felt the heat rise into your face. Luckily, the armor you two wore for protection also protected your heartbeat from giving away how fast your pulse was racing right now. “N-No problem,” you managed to croak out, scolding yourself for the ordinary answer you gave. It could have been your moment to say something epic! Something groundbreaking! But no, it was humble at best.

“I’m glad Your Highness is finally looking up again, even if what happened had been a tragedy too.”

Biting your lip, you thought to have overstepped with your words as Dimitri pulled back. But in the moonlight shining down on you two, you felt it rather than saw, as his hand cupped your cheek, the leather of his glove warm and soft. “Yes, I can finally see clearly again. I know now what’s important and where my priorities are. I thank you from the bottom of my heart for showing me.”

The kiss that followed was timid at first but changed into unreserved and unstoppable quickly. Part of your brain knew that leaning in and accommodating Dimitri was a mistake, something a teenager might have done, but it had been five years since you felt this way for him. The war wasn’t over, and a love story like this was only true in books, so there was always a chance for it to end in tragedy rather than joy.

But right at this moment, it felt like the world was restored to normality. As if his kiss could defeat all the evils and banish them away. Even if your love had laid dormant for so long, Dimitri was poking at the embers, stoking the fire inside of you. Perhaps, you hadn’t been over him as much as you thought five years ago when he was captured and vanished not long after. Maybe you had just ignored your heart, hoping that one day it would stop aching, but never abandoned your love for him.

“Please don’t leave me.” Opening your eyes faintly, you could see the reflection of the moonlight shining from his. His gaze was wide and adoring, but in it laid so much more than what you could hope for. In fact, you weren’t sure if those feelings you noticed in Dimitri’s eyes were feelings you wanted him to experience when he looked at you. “Not tonight,” he continued, “Never.”

Fear, desperation, desire. It all flicked through his gaze, his lips continuing to play with yours roughly. He sucked and pulled, his tongue slipping in the first moment your lips opened in a gasp for air. It was an amazing experience, yet, a part of you felt like he was devouring you. All these things began to make your head spin uncontrollably, his words being questioned over and over. What did he mean? What did he want? You didn’t want to confront him with wrong assumptions, but you also didn’t want to let him down. It was all so much - too much - to bear, and yet you simply didn’t want him to stop and go away.

“Of course!” you sighed into the kiss. “Anything you wish for, Your Highness.”

“Ah,” he whispered back, pulling you into an even deeper kiss. “The Goddess is merciful with me today. I’m so happy! I am so--”

Your body noticed it before your mind could register what happened, a harsh flinch jerking through every muscle. It shook you awake, slapped away the clouds that had fogged your brain, as you felt the pain coming from your lip. The taste of iron spread over your tongue, and you cocked your head away, reaching up at your lip only to find something hot and wet coating your fingers. Too thick to be saliva. Too red in the moonlight to not be blood.

As you went to question what happened, Dimitri’s lips crashed back down onto yours. An assortment of stings made you close your eyes tightly, drumming your free hands against his breastplate. You wanted to like his kisses, but not if you were bleeding and put in a tight spot with his harsh movements.

But you didn’t need to voice your uncomfortableness nor fight him as he quickly pulled away again. With a sense of horror, you noticed your blood on his lips, his tongue flicking out without ever looking away from you, to lick off the red color decorating him. “--happy! We’ll be together forever, right?”

You had no answer for him as he waited for your reply. This much, it should have been fine. It should have been fine to follow him into battle, to fight for him, and to celebrate his success. Even after all these years and the heartache you experienced before, it should have been fine to fall in love all over again, to care for him and accept him closer, right? Right?

Then why did it feel so dangerous to be in his arms, your lips trembling as they tried to heal the wound he just marked you with?

192 notes · View notes

starr-fall-knight-rise · 3 years

Text

HASO, “Ash.”

A couple people were showing some interest in other Alien characters aboard the ship, and I thought I would give you all some insight into that. I hope you enjoy, and I hope you all have a great day.

“You have ruined this family.”

“What have you done!”

“The war is the only thing left for you now, so make yourself useful and die.”

Etium slowly lifted his head from the computer where he sat staring blankly at the accounting spreadsheet on the screen. Beside him, the other two Tesraki’s chairs were empty. He sighed, and slowly turned back to the accounting. They had likely finished their half of the books hours ago, leaving him to sit in the darkness alone with his own strange thoughts. His four fingered hands clicked at the keys of the human made keyboard,

He was good at typing, pretty fast for someone who was missing two requisite fingers, but he was nothing in comparison to the others.

He was nothing in comparison to most Tesraki.

Etium was slow when it came to doing the books, repeatedly checking every line and ever string of numbers for any possible mistake that could have been made. The process took him hours longer than it should have, but finally he stood, pushing back his chair and hopping down to the floor. The human ship whirred softly in the distance. It was a comforting sound, but he had always found some measure of comfort in humanity.

Etium had been hit the hardest by the huminization phenomenon. It didn’t surprise him all that much. He had fought side by side with humans since the Drev war, and the changes in him had taken a long time to develop. They ran deep now through his body as sure as his blood. WIth skills honed in human war, and being one of few survivors, he was quick to react to sounds, followed movement more easily, and could read body language better than almost any other alien he knew.

Dr Krill wasn’t even as good as he considered himself.

That’s what war did to a person.

He reached up to his torn ear and shivered at the smell of smoke that seemed to waft up from his fur. He could never get the smell of ash out of his head no matter how hard he tried.

Etium knew there was something wrong with him, but he kept that to himself. The others tended to avoid him, and that was alright. He was friends with the Finnari, and while they were a bit sensitive, he supposed that was ok. He didn’t need anyone asking questions about what he was doing and why he was there.

He ducked through one of the maintenance corridors, and into the hallway behind the rec room.

He could hear humans and Drev talking and laughing on the other side, but when he passed through the next door, he found the hall opened into a large-ish storage room that was lined in boxes and crates. Inside was what remained of the Omen crew. Tesraki, Finnari, Celzex and Yeb. They had a little place here for those aliens who found it difficult to constantly interact with humans.

Yeb was a bit of a special case as she seemed to hop between both without much trouble. She lounged on one of the crates, her tail swishing back and forth against the box below her, bright green fur along her back, waving slightly in the air currents.

Etium leaned against the wall making no noise, and interacting with no one.

He wouldn’t have minded hanging out with humans, and drev, but….. Every time he did he just couldn’t shake the smell of smoke.

Why was he here?

Because he had seen a human boldly risk his life for two wounded alien soldiers.

Etium remembered the red sky above and the ash covered ground beneath. He remembered the wounded Rundi soldier at his side as the creature stalked towards them from the darkness. He remembered the flash of blue, and then an animal howl as the human came charging from nowhere.

When he closed his eyes, he could still hear the blood curdling scream of pain the human had given off as his limbs were ripped from his body.

He shook himself trying to shake the smoke away.

“Clan is more important than anything else.”

Etium lifted his head, arms still crossed over his chest.

“Then mean nothing.” Yeb was saying, “My parents abandoned me in an ice cave when I was just a cub.”

“Not our fault your species is defective.” Lord Avex was saying.

The burg lifted his hands in an attempt to keep the piece, technicolor wings flickering behind him, “Not now, all of you we must remember that as different species we all have different beliefs and needs. He pressed his hands together. The Burg do find clan very important, but it was for our survival for the longest time. There are plenty of other species that don’t need such things, like the Vrul or the Gibb for example, who are solitary creatures.”

The group of three finnari huddled close together and nodded.

They wouldn’t be likely to argue, they hated conflict and tried to keep the peace as much as it was possible.

He glanced over to the side surprised to find Waffles, the dog, lying with her head on her paws, around her neck, the snake creature Jeffery hung like a boa scarf.

He supposed she had any right to be here like the rest of them, she wasn’t human and neither was the snake. Though neither of them were classified as sentient and didn’t have the intelligence to speak. Waffles licked at her paws and Jeffery lifted his head turning to look at the speakers as if he was listening intently.

“This is not about biology, this is about the facts. There is strength in numbers, and numbers can win out over force anyday. Humans are the best example of this and you all know it. They managed to survive on a death world by making packs.”

Lord Avex did have a point, but lord Avex was also known for being an egotistical asshole.

That was sort of the defining feature of Celzex.

The furry little creatures were very proud, and very loyal, so they were both a blessing and an absolute pain to have on your side.

Most of the time they just liked causing problems for the sake of causing problems.

“There is nothing wrong with a solitary existence. My species has been living as single occupants inside a distanced society for a very long time.”

Lord Avex snorted, “Might I also point out that you society is a fascist Authoritarian dictatorship recovering from a pandemic crisis and refuses to join the GA to control their own citizens?”

The hair on the back of her body stood up, “Oh like your planet is any better. Roving warring clans who eat their own children.”

“Please, Peace.” THe burg was saying.

“You have no place in this. The burg have lived under a corrupted monarchy for ages.”

Etium sighed and closed his eyes.

Apparently, he had sighed much louder than he intended, and when he opened his eyes the entire room was looking at him,

“You got something to say.” Avex growled, “Anything to offer from a corporate capitalist hellscape.”

Etium pushed himself off from the wall, “No, I have nothing to say.”

Avex bristled, and when he did he got even fluffier, “I don’t think we are done here. I want to hear what you have to say.”

Etium sighed, knowing that he wasn’t going to get out of this one, “I think that all of our societies suck, they just all do it equally.”

The room bristled, but he kept going. He had stuck his foot in it and now he was going to have to deal. He looked at yeb and Avex, “Both of you are true about the other, same with the burg sorry to say.” He nodded over at the winged creature, “But think about it, all of us suck in some way or another,. My species destroyed our own natural habitats in the name of progress, He looked at the Finnari, No cohesive leadership, and a societal wide inability to make decisions. The Vrul live under a corrupted communist system and the Rundi are all politicians, so guess where that leads us. The Drev are a fractured group of clans bent on killing each other for no other reason than the fact that it is honorable. And don’t even get me started on humans, they are the worst of us all, since they can do everything we can and more.”

He sort of expected the uproar that followed, but kept his head low to avoid having to deal with it. He brushed a hand through his fur, attempting, mostly to brush the ash from it, and despite being able to feel it with his fingertips, he saw none break loose.

The room grew louder and louder until a sharp bark broke the silence.

The room went very quiet very suddenly.

He turned to see waffles had risen up into a sitting position, her hackles raised.

She growled low in her throat , and the entire room calmed down very quickly after that, Jeffery opened his mouth and turned his head like a periscope around the room.

Waffles slid back onto the floor and rested her chin on her paws ears sticking straight up as she sighed.

The room was only slowly able to return to its former discussion, though everyone remained mostly quiet.

Etium slumped back against the wall. He could see the other Tesraki across the room staring at him. He tried to ignore them for the most part, he didn’t really fit in with them to any sort of degree. He didn’t blame them.

He wasn’t particularly good with finances.

He didn’t have to be though, most humans were pretty poort at it too, so any ability whatsoever was considered good. That was another reason why he was here. If he was slow and ok at handling money, then he was going to be fine. If he tried to work anywhere else as a Tesraki….

He'd be fired

Or disowned…

Etium quietly slipped from the room, out and down the hallway. He knew where he was going, and followed his own memory down through the hallways until he came to a door. He knocked once.

“Come in.”

The door slid open and he stepped into a room lit by soft yellow light. Dr Adric was sitting at his desk, skin glowing a pale yellow in the dim lighting. He looked up, and when he smiled his teeth flashed white.

“Etium, it is good to see you. I didn’t expect you till our session tomorrow.”

Etium wandered into the room glancing down at the diagrams on the wall, and the large books on the shelves beside the desk. “Do you want me to leave.”

“No, of course not, take a seat.”

He did and stared up at the ceiling with a sigh.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Etium was quiet for a while, but finally opened his mouth to speak, “I can still smell the ash sometimes, Feel it in my fur when I go to bed. It…. doesn't really bother me most of the time, and I know it’s not real, but it certainly feels that way.”

Dr Adtric leaned on his desk and nodded, “Did you know somatic hallucinations are extremely common In Tesraki.”

He rubbed his fur, “Really?”

“Yes, at least one in twenty report small things. Feelings of items brushing over their fur even when nothing is there. If it starts to bother you, come to me and we will look into helping it. Otherwise just remember the exercises I taught you.”

He shifted in his seat and absently looked at the wall, “So if Somatic hallucinations are common in Tesraki….. Than what about everyone else?”

Dr Adric smiled at him. His expression, both charming and calming at the same time. He had an eir about him that just seemed to make things slow down and relax. It was a nice feeling to have.

“Well both Vrul and Gibb are prone to psychosis with obsessive and grandiosity characteristics. Most Vrul I know could be classified as having some sort of anxiety. Rundi are commonly seen with OCD. Celzex presents with characteristics of Antisocial personality disorder. Finnari can commonly be seen with dependent personality disorders. Both the Drevb and the Starborn, have a high rate of narcissism. In the case of the starborn, they have a 100% rate at this time…. Though to be fair we only have one starborn”

Etium couldn’t help but smile just a little. “Humans have all of those things I guess, since you have a name for all of them.”

“Yes. Though, I would say that I work most closely with Post Traumatic Stress.”

“Like what I have?”

“Similarly yes, though yours presents differently.”

“That’s what the Admiral’s dog is for? He said she was a PTSD dog.”

“That would be correct.”

Etium leaned back in his seat and stared out the window behind Adric. The man said he presented with listlessness, difficulty concentrating, and emotional detachment. He didn’t have flashbacks or stress associated, which is why he couldn't be entirely diagnosed, bu7t the two of them were pretty sure whatever he had was similar. They had thought about depression on one or two occasions, but he didn’t have trouble getting out of bed, or doing things that he enjoyed. He just got listless and distracted a lot.

Adric thought it might be an entirely different issue from what humans could get, but as of yet, there wasn’t enough research to determine that. They were working on it in their own right now, and he had been feeling a little more present, but he still wasn’t really there yet.

He hoped that soon he would be out of the rut he was stuck in.,

“Have you managed to tell the Admiral, like we had been talking about.”

Etium picked at the fur on his arm, “He seems…. Too busy to talk to me and I…. well I don’t know what it would accomplish.”

“I think it would be good for you to talk to someone who experienced the war.”

Etium sighed, “I didn’t really do much in the war. I sat there and just… was scared. The humans did everything.”

“I think you might find there are humans that feel the same way you do. I encourage you to talk to him. Knowing the man myself, I have no doubt that he will be accepting of your story.” He held up his hands, “I don’t want to push you, but I do encourage you to let him know.”

I think it would be good for both of you

203 notes · View notes

mareebird · 3 years

Text

If The Sun Should Tumble From The Sky Sylki; T+; 1.8k Words

Link to Ao3

The Ark collapsed, rending the sky with pink fire. The sound was deafening, and then there was no sound at all, and Loki stood transfixed. He wondered, once again, if he’d deluded himself. Had he really thought they might make it? Believed they had a chance? Had fighting his way to the massive ship been an act of desperation or pure insanity?

Haltingly, his breath caught up to him, as he gathered himself from the brain down: his neck, his chest, his belly, his legs; Loki came back together piece by piece, and then he could finally move.

He turned and saw vacant air where Sylvie had been, and his blood ran cold. Loki kept turning, circling the street, his eyes pointed down before he dared to look up. The possibility that she’d already been crushed by a chunk of the planet was, unfortunately, entirely possible. He’d just seen hundreds die at once. The two of them were going to die, too. What if he was already alone?

But no rocks had fallen on the little plaza where he stood and Sylvie wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Loki’s eyes narrowed on the way they’d come, the trail they’d blazed. He began walking back. There was no other way out. If she’d gone this way, he’d find her. And if he didn’t, then maybe it was for the best that she finished her life in some semblance of peace, without him.

Loki passed the rubble beneath the building he’d thrown back into place and stopped for a second, knowing he didn’t have a second to spare, but the feat deserved a moment of brief reflection.

“How the fuck did I manage to do pull that off?” Loki muttered, reflectively.

Then, it was through the bar. The cloak Sylvie had dropped wasn’t anywhere to be seen. It was possible she’d picked it up as she passed, Loki theorized, but maybe someone had scurried it off into the alleyway, keeping warm during their last few minutes of existence.

The air was neither warm nor cold, actually; damp, but somehow light, like walking through mist. Although breathing too deeply caused Loki to cough, so maybe what he felt was the ash in the air.

A single, lonely drink stood on one of the bar tables. Loki picked it up and threw it back, not caring what it was as long as it did the job. He tossed the glass over his shoulder as he went outside and down the steps. He could see the entrance tunnel, now. The fires in the trash cans were still burning. The city would be flattened before anything else put them out.

That was when he saw Sylvie’s footprints for the first time—the only markings leading out of a city where everyone else had been rushing in. Loki followed the trail down the hill, into the valley of the mine. Finally, he saw her, sitting on a large piece of debris that had cracked into two, staring in the direction of the falling planet, although not actually looking at it. Her gaze was falling somewhere else. Somewhere beyond.

Loki sat down on the other piece of rock, realizing that he was selecting the spot where he was going to die. And that Sylvie was sitting where she was going to die. And it was all his fault.

She looked noble, sitting like that, facing the falling planet with her chin tilted up. An Asgardian quality, possibly.

A deep ache in Loki’s chest began to spread outward.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

She had every right to hit him—again. Every right to draw the sword on her hip and run him through. Instead, Sylvie nodded. There was no anger in her gaze, at least none directed at him, just resolution and grim acceptance of her fate. She’d known she’d been playing with fire. She’d wanted to burn down the TVA. Exploding along with it had always been a risk.

Loki had to turn away for a moment, as looking at her quickly became agonizing. It had never been his intention to bring them here. In reality, he hadn’t really known what he was doing. He’d seen an opportunity, made up a plan, and pushed EXECUTE on the TemPad.

He’d only wanted to put distance between himself and Renslayer. Taking Sylvie along hadn’t been accidental, but it was secondary to his plan—although when he’d dropped through the Doorway and onto that bed, and realized that she was beside him, Loki’s first thought was that he’d done something right . Safely hidden within an apocalypse, they’d be free to talk, and talking to Sylvie was, somehow, going to solve all his problems. One way or another, it was going to get him in front of the Time Keepers.

But now, Loki couldn’t think of a damn thing worth saying.

“I remember Asgard,” said Sylvie. “Not much, but I remember. My home, my people, my life…”

His eyes flicked back to her, locking in, now unable to look away as she calmly shared the story of her life—a surprisingly short tale for someone who must have been born the same time as he, though what did Loki know? And maybe the story wasn’t short, it was just heartrendingly succinct: a life spent running. A sad, lonely life, narrowly escaping death after death, teaching herself how to grow up, how to use magic. Entirely self-taught. Alone. Surviving among the damned and the doomed.

No attachments. No family. Just Sylvie.

Loki shook his head, sick to his stomach as thought about his pampered life. For centuries, he’d had a family, a home, and whether they’d ever truly been his seemed like a moot point, in light of his approaching death. He’d had good things at his disposal. He’d had comfort. He’d never actually wanted for anything, even if none of it had satisfied him.

Though he supposed that meant, ultimately, that he’d only been as lonely as Sylvie.

A sizable rock landed in the pool of mining refuse water before them, sizzling and smoking before it sank. There were so many rocks above them that it was impossible to see the stars. The pink sky, which Loki had thought rather beautiful before, had bled out all it’s loveliness.

And yet, Loki couldn’t help but marvel at the drama of everything unfolding, fire-trails of meaning in the midst of chaos, of death arriving in slow motion. Every other death in his life had been sudden and swift, though time was little more than a construct now.

Loki’s brow tightened. How could the TVA watch this moment unfold again and again and treat it like plastic spinning in a snow globe? Something to toy with, or to set on a shelf?

He wondered if Mobius was looking for him, or if he had deluded himself into thinking the man cared. Even if he had, surely all that good will had dried up once he saw Loki run through the Doorway after Sylvie. Not that Loki could blame him for that, he supposed. It had just been...difficult to watch the betrayal splash across Mobius’s face.

Though it was possible he’d imagined that, too, Loki conceded; maybe Mobius had never trusted him. But Sylvie had. After ruining her plan and getting into a drunken brawl and breaking her TemPad, she’d still voiced her trust, as though her understanding of his motives was instinctive and innate. They’d become a team without realizing it.

“Do you think what makes a Loki a Loki is the fact that we’re destined to lose?” asked Sylvie, interrupting his thoughts.

Loki almost chuckled at that. Almost. He was beginning to think what made a Loki a Loki was that they were the only beings capable of understanding one another.

“No,” he said, after a moment. “We may lose. Sometimes painfully. But we don’t die. We survive.”

It wasn’t an attempt at comfort. They were going to die. Imminently. Mobius wasn’t about to burst out of a Doorway and rescue them. The TVA had no idea where they were, and even if they did, perhaps it was better to die here, somewhat free. Not alone.

Death and failure weren’t the same thing. Sylvie hadn’t lost, she’d left her mark. She was noble and brave, and Loki was glad to have met her on the last day of his life.

“I mean, you did,” he said. “You were just a child when the TVA took you, but you nearly took down the organization that claims to govern the order of time. You did it on your own. You ran rings around them. You’re amazing!”

The pitch of his voice shot up with exuberance as Sylvie turned her gaze away from the falling rocks and upon him. She looked as though she might cry, her puckish, pretty face contorting as the words rose to his lips faster than they could move. Loki could feel himself smiling. His swelling sensation in his chest was physical, too.

It was as though something good within him was lifting up and spilling out, and for once, there was no reason to hide it.

Loki hadn’t realized how close they’d drifted toward one another until her hand touched his arm. He looked down, startled to his core. Her fingers were clammy. She smoothed them across his skin, soft as a feather. He hadn’t realized Sylvie could be so gentle, nor had he realized it about himself.

The muscles in Loki’s belly fluttered all at once. At once, he lifted his eyes, only to be distracted by a pair of enormous rocks finally breaking the atmosphere and crashing into the mountainous wall of the mine. It exploded in fire, pushing the dirt like a wave crashing toward them.

Instinctively, Loki reached for Sylvie’s little hand. She took it and held it tightly.

This was it. This was the end.

But Loki had already seen his end. He’d been killed so many times that he’d lost track. What need did he have to see it again?

He wanted to look at Sylvie instead. If he got to choose the last thing he saw, he wanted it to be her, bathed in pink light.

Loki reached for her other hand and she allowed him to take it. He didn’t feel he deserved someone to hold on to, and especially not Sylvie, but maybe he didn’t deserve death, either. Sylvie certainly didn’t.

He wanted to kiss her goodbye.

But he dared not move. From the corner of his eye, he began to see the dust closing in. They only had seconds. Looking at her was enough. His heart thundered, full of terror and some sort of delusional hope.

And he counted himself among the lucky, the impossibly fortunate, that his last moment alive should be such a perfect one.

That was when a pair of Doorways opened.

And Mobius rushed out.

#loki #sylvie #loki series #loki spoilers #one shot #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #loki fic #mcu #don't care if i'm sticking my neck out #i love them #i wanted to write about them #sylki

45 notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years

Text

A Place Like This 2

Warnings: this short series will include dark elements including noncon, possible violence, mentions of mental illness, and other explicit content. I’m not your mother, curate your own consumption.

This is dark!Lumberjack!Andy Barber and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start asking questions but you might not like the answers.

Note: I’m a filthy liar and this is gonna be obv more than two parts and I dunno what I’m doing.

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Your office was the room across the hall from Andy’s, just beside the bathroom and furthest from your mother’s.

You had a routine; it helped you keep on track. You woke up, had a coffee and a small breakfast, and climbed back upstairs to begin your work. At noon, you took a break, you went for a walk or just sat on the porch with your mother if she wasn’t in her room. You returned to work and later in the afternoon you came down to remind your mother about her pills. Then you started dinner as the day was in its final decline.

Andy only changed that slightly. He woke earlier than you did and was on his way out as you got up. He came home around dinner time and you left a plate for him in the oven if he was late. He was quiet, he ate, and went upstairs. The first week went by as such. You almost pitied him for living in what seemed a crowded isolation.

Then the weekend came. Like the other lumber workers, he had those two days to himself. It would be the first real test of your arrangement.

You woke at your usual time and went down to make your coffee. You only wrote for a couple hours on weekends. Breaks were good. You measured the grounds into the percolator and filled it with water. You turned on the decades old stove and turned as you heard the old stairs groan.

Andy appeared in the door. He wore jeans and a thick knitted sweater. His hair, overgrown and shaggy, was pushed away from his face, his beard a shade darker and starting to puff out from its length. You suspected that as a lawyer, he never looked so unkempt and yet even now, he still managed to look refined.

“Hate to be selfish but you think there’s enough for me?” He crossed to the table and sat.

“Should be,” You rubbed your hands together. You wore an old sweatshirt with a grizzly on the front and your old faded jeans with the bleach stain on the knee. Unfashionable but warm. ‘“Cream, milk, sugar?”

“Black’s fine,” He said as he scratched his chin. “I was thinking today I could stock us up on wood for the fireplace. Since it’s snowing now, it’s better to get it done before the winter is really here.”

You squinted at him and played with the frayed cuff of your shirt. “So, you got a lot of snow in the city?”

“Not as much as here, I’m sure.” He let out a long breath and you saw the cloud in front of him.

You paused and listened for the rattle of the furnace. “Fuck.” You pushed yourself away from the counter. “I gotta light the furnace.”

“Where is it? I’ll do it.” He offered. “Since you made the coffee.”

“You sure?”

“Think I can handle it,” He stood. “City boy and all.”

“Basement door’s outside. It’s a pain but this place is old and not very well put together.” You said. “There’s a lighter in the drawer.” You pointed at the counter. “Thanks. Oh, and the key too. Hanging by the door with the green tag.”

“Alright,” He crossed to the door. “Think I’ll figure it out.”

He disappeared down the hall and returned with his big boots. He put them on before the back door and unlocked it. He tramped down the steps as the door clattered behind him and you listened to his crisp footsteps.

You wrung your hands as you thought. Nice enough, you surmised, but evasive. Maybe he wasn’t running from some heinous offense but he was trying to get away from something. You could tell by the way he always seemed to direct the conversation, especially when it turned on him.

You heard the sudden rumble of the furnace and the vents hissing. You turned as the percolator began to shake almost in tandem and the small glass knob bubbled with brown coffee. You took it off the burner as the basement door squeaked and the jingle of the key accompanied the snowy steps across the yard.

Andy kicked off his boots and slipped through the back door. He hung the key and he shook the snow from his hair and smoothed it back. He left his boots on the mat as you poured two mugs. He approached and you slid one to him. He took it with a soft thank you.

You added milk to yours and sat at the table as he did the same. You regretted it almost immediately. You should've taken it up with you and hid in your office.

"Any plans today?" He asked. You blinked and he rested his palm against the hot mug. "Sorry, it's none of my business."

"Nah, nothing planned," You replied. "So you just plan on chopping wood on your day off?"

"Not much else to do up here. It's nice. Mindless." He shrugged.

"You have a lot you don't want to think about?" You wondered.

His jaw ticked as he eyed you and his lips curled slightly.

"Don't we all?"

"You'd have to to come all the way up here from wherever you're from." You commented.

"Hmm," He chuckled under his breath. "You'd make a good prosecutor. You don't miss a lot."

"I'm a writer. I write about people, so I gotta study them closely."

"I thought you wrote about animals."

"That's what I'm paid to write about but… I have my own projects." You lifted your mug and tasted the rich brew.

He sucked his bottom lip in as his thoughts wrinkled on his forehead. "Uh huh," He uttered carefully. "Guess that's true then."

"So… is it too much to ask why you ditched being a lawyer?" You asked.

"You do anything long enough and you get bored."

"And you never did anything else? Never got married?" You prodded.

"Well, what about you?" He challenged as he hooked two finger through the handle of his mug. "Not many fish in this pond, huh."

"Touche," Your lips slanted, "You definitely are the lawyer type."

🍂

Later that day, after you gave your mother her second round of pills, you ventured out into the forest that skirt around the old property. The snow was only just past your ankles, the powder fell in spurts but didn’t seem to get much deeper. When you were met with a block or an impasse in your writing, you always came out to the trees to clear your mind. You were done for the day but you had a long week ahead of you.

You kicked the snow of a fallen tree by the river and listened to those critters not yet in hibernation in the blanket branches above. You thought about the man staying in the room next to yours and the answers he would give you; the questions you were too afraid to ask him.

He wasn’t telling you everything, perhaps he didn’t owe you everything, but the lines in his forehead, the crinkles beside his eyes, the depth of his irises as they watched you. There were things you needed to know about a person and you feared you didn’t know enough about this stranger you’d invited in. You had been too intent on the money, on your own keeping.

Or maybe you were paranoid. You were starting to sound like your mother when she claimed the birds were listening to her and taking the messages back to the monsters of the forest. When she had barricaded herself in her room and refused to come out for fear you were one of them in disguise. The day it had all fallen apart.

Your nose was numb and tingling. You pulled your scarf up over your face and turned back. The snow was crisper now. The temperatures fell with the sun and that happened quickly in the winter. The sky was a dark grey as you came back to the house, the chimney billowed up toward the quarter moon and a soft amber light shone between the curtains of the front room.

You dusted your boots off before you stepped inside. The voice didn’t stop as you took off your coat, scarf, hat, and gloves. You slid your boots off and listened. The scene was unexpected as you peeked into the front room.

Your mother sat with her favourite blanket over her legs before the fire. A fresh stack of wood sat beside it, the basket full of split logs as well. Andy bent to poke at the embers and send up sparks as he got the fire going higher.

“So, this book you’re reading,” He said as he set the poker aside. “Did she get away yet?”

“I don’t think she’s gonna,” Your mother replied as Andy stood and brushed off his jeans. “I don’t think that’s what the story’s about.”

“That’s too bad.” He looked up and his eyes met yours. You moved so that you stood in the doorway. “But I guess that’s truer to life. Not everyone gets their happy ending.”

“Well, I’ve been taking my time because it doesn’t have an ending. Yet.” She explained. “I’m waiting for her to finish.”

Your blood went cold. You crossed your arms and cleared your throat.

“What book is this, ma?” You asked.

She looked around the chair at you and blanched. Andy sat on the sofa and you pushed yourself away from the door frame. Your mother shook her head.

“I told you not to read my stuff.” You grimaced as you came closer. “It’s a first draft. Unfinished, unedited. It’s… personal.”

“From what she says, it’s pretty good regardless,” Andy offered. “Can’t blame her for her curiosity.”

You looked at him sharply and sighed as you dropped your arms.

“Whatever. Just don’t look at it again til I’m done.” You reprimanded. “Please. I’ll give you a look when I’m ready.”

“Dunno why it’s such a big deal. You write for the magazine all the time.” She grumbled.

“Because this isn’t an article on leaf fauna, ma,” You rubbed your cheek. “You already eat?”

“Just about to. Andy put a casserole in the oven.” She smiled. “Never knew a man who cooked. Your father, he couldn’t even salt his own eggs.”

“Mmm,” You sniffed as the smell of the burning wood melded with another more savoury scent. “Well, thank you, Andy. That was considerate. I’m sorry I waited so late, I was a bit distracted.”

“No problem,” He shrugged. “Really, the least I can do.”

You glanced between him and your mom. She hadn’t been this awake in ages. Her meds usually had her napping until dinnertime and asleep just as quickly after. She was vibrant and more friendly to this man than people she’d known for decades. You felt as if you’d walked in on something.

“Well, let me know. I’ll be upstairs.” You backed up. “There’s some strudel left from yesterday we can have for dessert.”

You left them and stopped at the bottom of the stairs as you looked back into the front room. Andy’s voice droned as he spoke to your mom and as she chuckled his eyes found yours. They narrowed for just a moment before he turned back and smiled at the older woman.

Nice enough, you presumed, but why didn’t you believe it?

🍂

The next day, you watched Andy through the window. The snow was thicker, a harbinger of the storm that had been brewing for over a week. He crossed to the trees, his boots barely higher than the blanket below. He sank down with each step. Only a fool would venture out as the windows billowed and flung the snow errantly.

You tore yourself away and pulled the curtain shut. You crept out into the hall and listened. Your mother slept late that day and when you gave her her pills, she’d just rolled over and fallen back to sleep.

You neared the door of Andy’s room and your hand hesitated on the knob. You took a breath and twisted it. You entered and were struck by the man’s smell; of his sweat and the deodorant that always lingered around him. The bed was made and the room barely looked lived in.

You walked slowly to the closet. Flannel shirts and jackets hung within above a single suitcase.

You felt a pang of guilt. Had you not just chided your mother for her snooping? You bent and unzipped the bag. It was empty. You checked the pockets; empty too. You stood and slid the door back into place. You went to the bed, the table next to it with the drawer that didn’t quite shut all the way and you wiggled it open.

The bible your mother left in there as if it were a hotel and pack of smokes. You’d never seen Andy smoke, never even smelled it on him. You took the carton and flipped open the top. Inside, a folded picture. You tiptoed to the window and looked out. His footprints faded into the trees.

You slid the photo out and opened it with shaky hands. It was Andy, shorter hair, trimmed beard, smiling, his arm around a dark-haired woman and a young boy in front of them. You folded it quickly and pushed it back behind the sticks in the pack. You placed it as you had found it and forced the drawer shut.

Was he running from his own family? Or maybe, what had happened to them?

You fled his room and closed the door guiltily. You were only more confused than before. You descended the stairs and hastily pulled your coat from the hook. Your hat was pulled on carelessly and you tied your boots without thinking. You pushed your hands into your gloves and angled yourself out the door. It was fucking cold; the fleece lining of your coat made little difference.

You grunted as you forced your boots through the snow and followed Andy’s tracks as they filled with a new layer of powder. You weren’t sure what you were doing, why you were doing it. What could he be doing all the way out in the woods which would be incriminating?

You went on, even as the questions floated in your mind. You followed his large boot prints, placing your feet in them as you followed his path. You came to a stop before the river, the overturned tree showed where someone had brushed aside the snow. The tracks veered off away from the log and you looked around.

You were forced back into an upright trunk, the breath knocked out of you as Andy pinned you with his arm across your chest. His eyes seared into you as he leaned his weight into you and you gasped for air as you smacked his shoulder.

“Why are you following me?” He growled.

“What? Andy, let me--” You gasped, barely able to breathe, the snow clumping in your lashes. “And--”

“Hmm? I see you watching me. I see the way you look at me.” He hissed. “I help you, help your mother and what? What do you think I am?” He grabbed your chin, his hide glove rough against your skin. “Am I that villain you write about? Is that what you think?”

“No, I…” You smacked him again and again. “I was just---” He let off just a little as you gulped for air. “There’s a storm. You shouldn’t be out here--”

“You think I can’t handle a storm?” He snarled. “You’re not a very good liar and trust me, I’ve known a lot of liars.”

“Let go of me.” You pleaded. “Jesus Christ, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I followed you, okay? I was just… curious.”

“Uh huh,” He turned you and forced his arm around your neck as he bent you over. You kicked as he dragged you through the snow towards the river. “WHat do you think? I’m hiding some big secret like one of those books you read?”

“Let--go,” Your feet slid through the blanket below. “Stop! What are you--”

“You think I’m what? A criminal? A murderer!?” He pulled you up and spun you away from him. You stumbled backwards as you faced him.

Your boots slid beneath you and you hearth the hard thunk of your sole against the the ice. Thick but not thick enough. You held out your hands as you looked down at the river coursing below the brittle surface. Your heart raced in your ears. You tried to take a step forward but he was at the bank, watching you.

“Ah ah,” He raised his hand. “You stay where you are.”

“What are you doing?” You pushed your feet apart. “Andy--”

“Terrible accident you falling through the ice like that. There’s just so much snow, you can’t really tell where the water begins.” He smiled and tucked his hands in his pocket as you heard the slow crack beneath you. “Your mother will be devastated.”

You swallowed as your eyes wetted and you looked between him and your feet. You lifted your boot and the snap below you had your heart in your throat. You plunged into the freezing water with a shrill shriek, your arms flying up to grab onto the ice.

The frozen sheet broke as you tried to latch on and you kicked as the water soaked your coat and dragged you down into the depth further. You flapped helplessly and spun in circles in the waves. The water filled your lungs and you choked and you stared up through the frigid foam, the blurry shadow staring down at you.

The cold bit deep into your flesh and your limbs weakened the more you struggled. The water smothered you and your body spasmed in the thralls of finality. Your eyes rolled back and the dark water flowed around you in welcome.

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #dark andy barber x reader #dark!andy barber x reader #andy barber x reader #fic #series #a place like this #lumberjack au #au #lumberjack #Defending Jacob #dark fic #dark!fic

314 notes · View notes

gusu-emilu · 3 years

Text

thermal scheming

Ship: Jiang Cheng / Nie Huaisang

Summary: When Jiang Cheng joined this camping trip, he didn’t realize it would mean sleeping in the same tent as Nie Huaisang. Now it’s nighttime, and Nie Huaisang won’t stop complaining that he’s cold. Apparently he expects Jiang Cheng to do something about it.

Modern AU, Sharing a Bed (except it’s a sleeping bag) - read on AO3

* * *

“Jiang Cheng.”

Good grief.

He ignores the voice, instead focusing on the chirping of crickets in the forest outside the tent walls.

“Jiang Cheng.”

He opens his eyes. He is lying on his back in his sleeping bag, hands folded over his chest. His fingers dig into his knuckles in irritation.

The cramped tent space was pitch black when he closed his eyes a few minutes ago, but now there’s a faint, cool light coming from the screen of a phone. He furrows his brow at this unwanted brightness.

“Jiang Cheng.”

“What?”

“I’m cold.”

It’s really too unlucky that his tentmate is Nie Huaisang, one of the chattiest people to come on this camping trip. Sure, not as bad as Wei Wuxian, but at least his brother he can hit over the head and be done with.

Yet after so many years, Jiang Cheng still hasn’t figured out how to handle this babbler that he now shares a tent with.

“Jiang Cheng, I’m cold.”

“The hell you telling me for?”

“So that you feel bad for me.”

Jiang Cheng finally looks over at the sleeping bag next to him, where Nie Huaisang is huddled in a ball. Only his eyes and forehead peek out from under the covers. Jiang Cheng ignores how endearing the sight is.

Jiang Cheng scoffs. “Not gonna happen.” He turns away and closes his eyes again.

It’s a lie, though. For some reason, lately it’s been difficult to bring himself to brush off Nie Huaisang.

He hasn’t enjoyed the skittish young man latching to his side during the camping trip, coaxing him to eat sweets at breakfast and pointing him to every bird they see on the hiking trips and nervously brushing shoulders with him at the sight of just about every other wild animal. Or telling him absurd stories that force him to hide his laughter, or deliberately sabotaging him in card games and spikeball, or pushing him every time he lies on the hammock.

No, he hasn’t enjoyed the attention.

But he hasn’t made much effort to stop it.

Well, it’s only because he’s too tired. Camping wears Jiang Cheng out, especially with this crew of imbeciles. Even though he didn’t originally agree to come on the trip, now it’s him doing all the work—setting up the tents, cleaning the boats, cooking dinners. Everyone else is as lazy as Wei Wuxian.

Except for the few times that Nie Huaisang actually volunteered to help Jiang Cheng, even though he normally refuses to raise a finger in manual labor.

But that’s probably because he was scared of angering Nie Mingjue.

“Jiang Cheng? Can’t you have some pity on me? It’s freezing!”

“It’s not that cold,” Jiang Cheng snaps. It’s summer, after all. The nights are chilly, but not unbearable.

“You’re not cold?” Nie Huaisang asks.

“No.”

Why is Jiang Cheng even bothering to keep up the conversation? His entire body is heavy, longing for sleep. Today’s lengthy canoeing trip has sapped a lot of his energy.

“Er…what are you wearing?”

Jiang Cheng’s eyes snap open. He looks over again at the mousy figure cocooned in the sleeping bag.

Nie Huaisang’s eyebrows dart up. “Well, um—it’s just, if you’re not cold, I’m wondering how—”

“I’m in sweats,” Jiang Cheng says flatly.

“Ah, hm. Well, you see, I’m only…” He lifts an index finger out from under the covers. “I’m only wearing a T-shirt and boxers.”

“Then put on more clothes and stop complaining.”

The entire sleeping bag wriggles. “That’s the problem! I left my backpack in Da-ge’s car!”

“So go get it!”

Nie Huaisang shakes his head, but half of his face is hidden by the sleeping bag, so Jiang Cheng just sees a pair of eyes floating back and forth like haunted lights. “No, no, I can’t wake up Da-ge!”

If they continue this whisper-shouting, they will wake up the entire campsite anyway.

Nie Huaisang lowers his voice to speak slowly and melodically, like he’s singing one of Wei Wuxian’s stupid campfire songs. “Jiang Cheng…do you have a sweatshirt I can borrow?”

Why didn’t he just ask this instead of dragging Jiang Cheng through an entire saga before getting to the point?

“No. I only brought two hoodies, and you can blame Lan Xichen for dropping one of them in the mud when I just asked him to hold it for five seconds. I’m wearing the other.”

“Oh. Well, that’s unfortunate.”

Finally, silence. The sound of nothing but peaceful crickets.

Nie Huaisang should be done now.

“Jiang Cheng?”

Apparently not. He sighs. “What now?”

“Can I have the hoodie you’re wearing?”

For a disturbing moment, Jiang Cheng actually wants to give it to him.

It’s precisely because of that thought that now he must refuse. “Just steal Nie Mingjue’s car keys and get your own clothes.”

Nie Huaisang groans. “But I’ll be even colder if I go outside! And I’ve spent so much time warming up my sleeping bag with the tiny bit of heat my poor body has left. By the time I get my stuff and come back, my sleeping bag will be cold again, and I’ll have to start all over!”

Jiang Cheng rubs his temples. “How long could it possibly take? Two minutes? Your sleeping bag is not going to get cold in two minutes.”

“Yes it will! And then I’ll be so sad!”

Jiang Cheng rolls on his side with his back to Nie Huaisang and pulls the covers over his ears.

Everything his tentmate is saying is completely idiotic.

Yet Jiang Cheng is feeling something…soft about it.

Disgusting. Maybe if he clenches his fists hard enough it will go away.

“Er, can you…Can you come in my sleeping bag and keep it warm while I go get my backpack?”

Jiang Cheng bolts upright. He grimaces at this horrifying request. “Absolutely not!”

Nie Huaisang finally lowers the covers to fully expose his face. As if showing his little nose and chin would make Jiang Cheng any more likely to agree.

“Please? You’re already sitting up now, you might as well do it. Please? Please?”

“No!”

The sleeping bag squirms again. “But if you don’t keep it warm, then when I come back with my sweatshirt, it won’t even matter because I’ll be even colder than I was before!”

Jiang Cheng pauses. If he gives Nie Huaisang a reason to complain for longer, even if it’s a ridiculous, obviously made-up reason, then Jiang Cheng will never get to sleep.

His lip curls with distaste at what he’s about to do—crap, is he actually about to do something this humiliating?—and a strange fuzziness fills his chest.

“Fine. Better be quick,” he says through clenched teeth. He intended to have an edge in his voice, but somehow it’s barely there.

“Thank you so much! Oh, thank you! You’re the best!” Nie Huaisang scampers out of the sleeping bag and waits in front of the door flap of the tent. He crosses his arms and shivers as he stares at Jiang Cheng expectantly.

Muttering curses to himself, Jiang Cheng crawls over to the empty sleeping back and slips inside.

He catches a grin from Nie Huaisang before turning his head away in shame. He hears the zipper of the tent open, then the sound of quick, fading footsteps.

This sleeping bag is, in fact, colder than Jiang Cheng’s. Maybe Nie Huaisang wasn’t exaggerating as much as it seemed.

An odd satisfaction swells inside Jiang Cheng at the idea of his body heat keeping Nie Huaisang warm.

He nearly chokes.

What is he thinking?!

He clenches the covers tight in his fists.

It hasn’t even been thirty seconds when Nie Huaisang scurries back into the tent. Jiang Cheng repositions to look up at him. He’s still only wearing a loose T-shirt and boxers, and in his hands there are no car keys, no backpack, and no sweatshirt.

“What are you doing back already?”

“It’s too cold outside!”

Suddenly, the covers lift, then fall, and there’s a body pressed against Jiang Cheng.

Nie Huaisang.

In the same.

Sleeping bag.

As him.

Panic.

Sheer panic courses through Jiang Cheng like a lightning strike.

“Hell no! Get out!” He shoves the body that’s squished into him, but there’s no room for either of them to move.

“It’s my sleeping bag!” Nie Huaisang says.

“Yeah, but now I’m in it!”

“So stay in it!”

“Are you out of your mind?!”

Jiang Cheng tries to force his way out, but the sleeping bag only opens on one side—the side Nie Huaisang is blocking—and now their limbs are even further entangled.

He pulls his arms away and tries to slither out the top, but that only makes his hips rub into the body next to him, and that is not okay.

“Jiang Cheng, please just keep me warm,” Nie Huaisang whispers as he tucks his hands into his chest to avoid touching Jiang Cheng again.

Jiang Cheng stops squirming. Every one of his muscles becomes rigid.

He is grateful that Nie Huaisang’s slender fingers aren’t groping him anymore, but his entire person is still snuggled into the same sleeping bag.

Jiang Cheng shifts his jaw back and forth trying to squeeze words up his throat. “Take my hoodie instead,” he manages to choke out.

Nie Huaisang’s drowsy eyes drop their gaze, as if hiding. “Well. Um. Would just your hoodie be enough, though?”

“…You’re not getting my sweatpants.”

A breathy laugh tickles Jiang Cheng’s neck. “That’s not what I meant.”

Then what does he mean?

This is the most confusing situation Jiang Cheng has ever been in. How do the two of them even fit in the sleeping bag? Why is there a dizziness churning in his head? Why are his hands itching like he wants to put them somewhere—on someone?

“This is weird.”

Nie Huaisang’s eyes wander up to meet Jiang Cheng’s. He looks like a puppy. “Do you want me to let you out?”

His throat closes up.

He should say yes.

Why can’t he?

Nie Huaisang leans away. “I’m, um, I’m sorry,” he says with a hint of dejection. He fiddles with the flap of the sleeping bag. “Here, let me—”

“Don’t be dumb.”

Some kind of restraint breaks inside of Jiang Cheng, as if a net around his thoughts has been cut loose.

Nie Huaisang stops dead. “Huh?”

Jiang Cheng fumbles over what to say next. Strange feelings are flooding into him, but he can’t decipher them. He decides to just block them out, as he usually prefers to do when it comes to emotions.

“If you freeze in the night, your brother will kill me,” Jiang Cheng says with as much authoritativeness as he can muster. “That’s the only reason I’m staying here. You got that?”

Nie Huaisang wriggles back onto his side to face Jiang Cheng, gaping at him in wonder. His hands are still clutched into his chest trying not to make contact, but they end up nudging against Jiang Cheng’s torso anyway.

“Yes, yes, I’ve got it, I’ve got it perfect!” Nie Huaisang’s head bobs up and down, then rests on the cushion next to Jiang Cheng’s shoulder.

They remain motionless like this until Jiang Cheng is about to explode from the awkwardness.

Nie Huaisang lifts his head an inch. “Er, Jiang Cheng?”

“What?”

He rubs his chin and smiles sheepishly. “I’m still cold.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I’m not, I swear!”

“I’m already in the same sleeping bag as you! That’s enough! What more do you expect me to do?”

“Hmm,” Nie Huaisang hums as he trails a finger along Jiang Cheng’s shoulder.

Jiang Cheng’s entire body freezes at the touch.

“I don’t know,” Nie Huaisang says. “I really don’t know.”

The feathery touch creeps up to his collarbone. Jiang Cheng flinches, then it slinks down to his bicep, teasing him, encircling him. There is a devilish glint in Nie Huaisang’s eyes that Jiang Cheng has never seen before.

“Can you think of something, gege?”

His brain shuts down.

All he’s aware of is a fire growing in his belly.

It urges to consume. To blaze everything into in cinders.

Jiang Cheng’s breath deepens as he struggles to regain control of his mind and extinguish the fire inside him. That finger is creeping up to his neck again. He grabs Nie Huaisang’s wrist to stop the unbearable touch.

They lock gazes. The devious look on Nie Huaisang’s face disappears into nervousness, as if he realizes that he’s pushed Jiang Cheng too far.

This entire trip, Nie Huaisang has been pushing him too far.

“You’re cold?” Jiang Cheng growls.

Nie Huaisang gulps. Jiang Cheng’s eyes hungrily follow the movement of his Adam’s apple.

“J-J-Just a little bit…”

A hand slowly snakes down to Jiang Cheng’s waist.

The flames inside Jiang Cheng erupt with desire. “Turn around.”

A flicker of uncertainty crosses Nie Huaisang’s face. Then the corners of his mouth twitch with delight, and he shifts his position, twisting the fabric of the sleeping bag, until he is facing the other way.

Jiang Cheng wraps his arms around Nie Huaisang and hugs him close, pressing Nie Huaisang’s back tightly into his chest. Nie Huaisang intertwines his arms with Jiang Cheng’s and melts into the embrace.

“Still cold?”

“Not at all.”

Jiang Cheng leans forward to hover his lips over Nie Huaisang’s ear, fighting the urge to nip at it with his teeth.

“Then I better not hear you say it again.”

Nie Huaisang shivers.

Satisfied, Jiang Cheng closes his eyes and holds Nie Huaisang tighter.

Jiang Cheng is not sure how long they stay like this.

At first, loud thoughts batter around his mind. Anger for allowing himself to become so vulnerable. Cravings to explore Nie Huaisang’s body with his hands. Memories that suddenly have a different meaning, reaching back to the first day they met as teenagers. Anxieties about what they feel for each other now, six years later, as they cuddle in the same sleeping bag.

Jiang Cheng has not felt this many emotions at once in a long time.

How…how did this even happen?

But after a while, it becomes peaceful. Jiang Cheng’s heart stops racing, and Nie Huaisang’s breaths slow down. The steady rise and fall of Nie Huaisang’s chest is soothing, comforting.

“You know,” Nie Huaisang says. “I was never cold in the first place.”

Jiang Cheng pulls away in surprise. “What?”

“Mmhm. I was just pretending.”

Pretending?

Jiang Cheng should be furious about being tricked, but somehow he’s grinning instead. “You little gremlin.”

Nie Huaisang spins around to face him. He pokes Jiang Cheng’s cheek. “No, no. That’s not right. You think I’m this sneaky all the time? Only for you. It should be ‘my little gremlin.’ Come on. Say it.”

“You’re out of your mind if you think I’m saying that.” He tries to scowl, but he can’t stop smiling.

My? As in ‘mine?’

Something warm fizzles inside Jiang Cheng at this thought. He hates the feeling. He hates it so much.

Nie Huaisang pokes him in the cheek several more times.

“Stop.”

Now both of his hands are drumming over Jiang Cheng’s torso.

“Stop it!” Jiang Cheng laughs as he snatches Nie Huaisang’s hands and forces them to hold still.

Nie Huaisang sighs and drops his head onto the pillow, as if admitting defeat. His eyes are round and innocent, drawing in Jiang Cheng like they have their own gravity.

Then a foot pokes Jiang Cheng in the leg.

“Hey!” Jiang Cheng shoves his own feet into Nie Huaisang. “You wanna die?!”

Nie Huaisang smirks, the devilish twinkle returning to his eyes.

“Yes please.”

* * *

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this fic, you can be a supportive sibling like Jiang Yanli by liking, reblogging, and visiting me on AO3!

#i don't even know why i wrote this #sangcheng #mdzs #jiang cheng #nie huaisang #the untamed #cql #mdzs fanfic #mdzs fanfiction #the untamed fanfic #the untamed fanfiction #emilu fics #emilu creations

71 notes · View notes

kotorilovesalpacas · 4 years

Text

Before I Go - Part 2 (Bakugou Katsuki x Reader)

A/N: so a lot of ppl asked for a part two of this and i debated writing one in the first place, so here it is!! it’s still a little angsty and i’m sorry if it isn’t great but i wanted to end it on a little happier note

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

Warnings: angsty but has a happy ending, slight mentions of harm, makes my heart hurt

Part 1 / Part 2

When you woke the following morning, instinct was the first to kick in, making you want to head to Bakugou's room so you could both start your morning with one another. But the sore ache lingering in the back of your throat reminded you of the events that had transpired the previous day.

Instead, you stayed in bed, your eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. You heard soft footsteps moving around in the halls. Soft laughter seeped through the floor as everyone met in the common room, musing about what was for breakfast.

You stayed there until everyone had left, presumably thinking that you were taking the day off sick. Only then did you emerge and stumble your way to campus, your heart feeling as though it were completely weighing you down. The lessons faded together, sounding like a mere cacophony of noise fighting against the ringing in the back of your mind.

It was hard not to glance over at your now ex-boyfriend, wondering if he was looking at you, too. Was he thinking about you? Did he even care how much he had hurt you? Did he even realise?

When lunch came around, you didn't head to the cafeteria with everyone else. You just couldn't act as if everything was okay, when your whole world was crumbling around you. Instead, you headed outside to eat by yourself under the shade of a tree, where the wind could wipe away your tears gently.

"Y/N," A voice called out to you, "what are you doing out here?"

You glanced up to find Izuku rushing towards you. His green eyes were narrowed, brows knitting together as he frowned at you. If anybody was going to realise that something was off, it was going to be Izuku. You should have realised that you wouldn't be able to hide your pain from him.

"I just wanted to get some fresh air." You lied, praying that your quivering voice wouldn't give you away so easily. "What's up?"

"I'm worried about you. You really think you can hide this from me?"

You sighed, "Of course not. It doesn't mean I won't try."

"Something happened with Kacchan, right?" Trust him to hit the nail on the head. He sat himself beside you and you felt a sense of comfort just from having a friend beside you. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I can't." You breathed, knowing that if you even attempted to cast your mind back to the previous day, you would only break down in neverending sobs. "He just... he said some really horrid things, Izuku."

"I'm sure he didn't mean them," Izuku said softly, trying to meet your eyes with a soft smile.

Your eyes darted upwards for a brief moment, but the sight of his kind eyes only brought you to tears. You ended up spilling all of the details to him, and he simply sat beside you, holding you close to him as you choked your way through the story. His head rested upon yours, your lunch now forgotten on the floor as tears cascaded down your neck and soaked into the collar of your shirt.

"I'm so sorry, Y/N. Even if he didn't mean it, he should never have said those things to you." Izuku muttered, disdain laced into his voice. His hand rubbed your shoulder, trying to let you know that he was there for you.

At some point, your tears had stopped. But your chest was burning, your face covered in sad streaks; a dead giveaway of your true feelings. There was no way you could go back to class in such a state.

Izuku was kind enough to pass on a message that you were feeling unwell, so you returned to the dorms and hid away in your room. When you got back, you sent him a text to let him know that you were grateful.

You managed to return the next day, but it had become painfully evident to everyone in the class that something had happened. Bakugou couldn't look anyone in the eye. You refused to speak to anyone. He spent his entire week hiding out in the training room, adding more burns to a growing collection on his forearms. You sought comfort beneath your bedsheets, where your cries were muffled and the pillow caught your tears.

A week passed in this fashion, with your classmates discussing how they could help in hushed whispers when they thought you couldn't hear. As much as you appreciated their concern, you didn't really want other people to involve themselves in your problems.

As you were hiding away in bed one evening, your eyes staring at your phone screen blankly, a knock disturbed you. Your eyes gazed over to the doorframe, wondering if you had misheard; surely someone wouldn't be visiting so late.

Before you could even respond, a voice called out to you, "Y/N, I know you're in there. Let me in please; we need to talk."

Just the sound of his voice made your heart wilt. If you hadn't already cried yourself dry, new tears would have sprouted behind your eyes. You shifted beneath your bedsheets, dragging your feet as you made your way over to the door.

Your hand paused on the handle, "I don't know if I want to talk to you right now."

"Please." Bakugou's voice took on a tone that you had never heard before. There was a slight quiver in his voice, his words laced with pain. For the first time, he sounded vulnerable.

Your heart ached for the boy that you loved. Against your better judgement, you pulled open the door. His hair was dishevelled, there was a sheen of sweat covering his forehead. You could see the burns dancing upon his forearms. Instinctively, you reached out, brushing your fingertips gently across his skin.

"Don't do this to yourself anymore, Bakugou." You pleaded with him, finally meeting his crimson gaze after so long. Though his eyes usually hid how he felt, you could see the guilt in them.

"Can I come in?"

You nodded, stepping aside for him. You closed the door behind, allowing the two of you some privacy.

"I'm not even sure where to begin... Everything I said to you... It was awful, and I wish I'd never fucking said it. I'm such a goddamn asshole. I was so selfish and so angry." His words seemed to blend together; he was just fighting to spit them out. Bakugou knew he should have planned what he wanted to say beforehand, but he had so many feelings that everything came tumbling out at once. "I can't believe I could hurt you like that, Y/N. I'm so fucking sorry. Nothing I say will ever make it up to you, and I know that, but I really hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me."

You murmured, "I just wanted to help you, Bakugou."

"I know. I know you did. But I was so hurt, and so angry, and so frustrated. Not only getting taken like that, but putting you and everyone else in danger when you came to save me. If something had happened to you, I would never have forgiven myself." He looked back at you, his arms hanging by his sides.

"And I'll never forgive myself for letting you be taken."

"But it wasn't your fault, Y/N."

"It wasn't your fault, either."

Both of you paused at that. Without even knowing, you both had been blaming yourselves. You felt that you had let him down by not being able to get him back. He felt that he had let you down by putting you in danger.

You spoke, "We shouldn't blame ourselves for something that the League of Villains chose to do. What happened is on them, and nobody else."

"I know." Bakugou's eyes turned to the floor. You could see that it was so hard for him; he usually liked to have control over his situations. He hated to think that there was something he couldn't fix, or something he couldn't do. "I know I need to stop blaming myself for All Might's retirement, but it's so hard."

"I know."

"It just overwhelmed me, and I lashed out at you." The corners of his lips turned down in a frown. As much as you wanted to punish him, you know that you both had suffered enough. Your hand grasped his, interlocking his fingers with yours. "I don't deserve you, Y/N, and I never will."

You pulled him into a tight hug, the tears finally spilling down your cheeks. You buried your face into his neck, finding comfort in his familiar smell of burnt caramel mixed with a tinge of sweat. His entire body felt so tense, but it seemed to melt away as you embraced him. His shoulders seemed to shake against yours and you knew that he was crying, too.

"I love you so much, Bakugou Katsuki." You breathed, pressing a kiss to his neck softly. You felt his fingers dragging across your back, trying to pull you ever closer to him. "You mean the world to me and I hate to see you in pain."

"I love you too, Y/N. I only ever want to protect you." He whispered, his voice heavy with his tears that he had fought so desperately to hold back. As much as he would have accepted your decision if you chose not to forgive him, he was so glad that you had.

"Listen, why don't you make yourself comfortable and we can watch a movie?" You suggested, finally pulling away to show him a big smile. You wiped the tears from under your eyes and he nodded, his head turned to the floor to hide the tears on his cheeks. "I'll grab us some snacks."

He mumbled, "Thank you."

With a nod, you made your way over the door. You paused, glancing over your shoulder as you asked, "Before I go, do you want anything?"

#bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugou angst #bnha #bnha angst #bnha bakugou #mha #mha bakugo katsuki #mha angst #fluff #katsuki x reader

150 notes · View notes

votederpycausemufins · 3 years

Text

Alright, time to work on tying up loose ends ish. i think there’s like... 2 chapters left after this? idk, I’m still writing!

@petrichormeraki @helleborusangel

While most everyone wanted Grifter dead, the fact that he was the only way to free Xannes made them keep him alive. They did manage to get the Listener to let him out, but at the same time, he let his own family out as well before disappearing with them. Fortunately as they left, the world rolled back, undoing all the damage as well as leaving Grian rather grumpy that his hard work was gone.

Shortly after that, everyone had to keep Grian and Techno apart when the avian tried attacking him for being near Grum, who to Grian’s annoyance seemed perfectly fine around the warrior. He reluctantly accepted it, only to get piled on again as he tried to make a second nest.

Xannes hacked them all out of the castle, at least those he could. Kristen and Joe followed on their own a few moments later, everyone soon at the quartz mansion. Grian was immediately after as many blankets as he could obtain, Tommy laughing, but quickly helped out.

Kristen stayed for a bit, long enough to officially say hello to Grian once he was lucid enough, but stayed longer after Grum clung to her leg and refused to let go. Eventually she relented and got pulled into Grian’s blanket nest, Grum running off to drag Techno in next.

“So… how have you two been?” Kristen asked, before correcting herself. “Besides this whole mess that got me involved.”

“It’s been pretty pog since I found Grian. We didn’t even know we were related until, what? A week ago?”

“I’m sorry. I honestly had no clue.” Kristen apologized, but Grian shrugged.

“I don’t blame you. I ended up in a world that death didn’t seem to exist in, at least not really. People who died showed up as ghosts. So even if I did remember your job, I wouldn’t have blamed you there. Then there were the Watchers, and then apparently Zed’s been dealing with things in Hermitcraft. I- are you two related?”

“Yes, we’re siblings.” Kristen replied, shocking both Grian and Tommy.

Zedaph, who was nearby, stepped closer. “Why do you look so shocked? I thought you knew, or at the very least I thought Grian knew.”

“Is that why you acted so casual when you asked me to kill myself?!” Grian balked, making Kristen whip around to look at Zed.

“You asked him to what?!”

“It was for a game! I asked a number of hermits to see who could kill themselves the fastest for a prize! Honestly, I don’t see what the problem was since he started Demise a year later.”

“That was sort of my last shot to find anyone. I thought so much death would make Mum show up.”

“Well, as far as I know, she wasn’t even showing up for Phil after you left, so not like there was much hope there.” Tommy shrugged, though he said it in a joking manner. It still made Kristen frown before Tommy elbowed her. “Hey. It’s fine. I mean, we’re meeting you now and not before we found each other again, so that’s pretty pog too.”

As the two of them chatted, Grian managed to find some paper and ink and started putting together a quick family tree before handing it to Techno to fill in the blank of Fundy’s mom. “Alright, so Wil, Techno, Tommy and I are the kids of you and Phil. Wilbur’s got Fundy with someone named Sally?” Grian quickly looked to Techno who nodded. “Sally. Mumbo and I built Grum and Jrum, meanwhile Techno and Tommy don’t have any kids.”

“Yeah I’m still looking for the ladies.” Tommy jokingly boasted, getting some chuckles from those nearby.

“And I don’t see the point in relationships.”

“Aro, got it.”

“I prefer fireworks. I don’t need arrows.”

Grian stifled some chuckles before continuing. “You’re siblings with Zed, who’s currently with Impulse and Tango, which I’m not going to go further into for my own sanity. And then you and Dad are immortal or something, so who knows about your parents.”

Kristen nodded. “Good, but you’re forgetting your uncle.”

Grian showed off the chart. “What? No, I’ve got Zed there with Impulse and Tango. If you’re going with the misconception that Worm Man is related, I’ll have you know that Poultry Man has assured me that’s not the case. Plus Zedaph has an interview with Worm Man and they are definitely in the same place.”

Kristen half nodded. “Oh, I’m sure that’s very much the case. However, I’m talking about Phil’s brother.”

“Mum, I’m glad to meet you and everything, but could you have waited like another week to drop that on us too?” Tommy asked as Grian looked like he was on the edge of a breakdown.

“So, should I not mention he has-”

“Nope! Not now! And we’ll ask dad ourselves.”

“I was just a hermit a week ago. I was technically still an orphan. I had the hermits as a family. Now some of them are really my family. Why? Why? Why is this happening?”

“Okay G, time to go to bed.” Tommy said, pulling one of the blankets out of the nest and throwing it over Grian’s head, hoping the darkness would kick in Grian’s parrot brain and get him to calm down.

It was just at the right time too, because the door opened with Phil coming into the building. “How’s everyon- Kristen?!”

From there, all of the family currently in that world - other than Zedaph - ended up in Grian’s blanket nest. They chatted a bit before Kristen eventually had to leave, though she made sure to let all of them know how to call her if there was an emergency. Zedaph finally joined to take her place, getting glared at by Grum of all people. “You doing alright there?”

“I’m upset I didn’t know you were my uh… great uncle?”

“Grunkle has a better ring to it.” Zedaph smiled, but Grum just pouted and crossed his arms before being pulled into a hug from Grian. “But yeah, I’m sorry Grian. I can’t believe I never noticed you didn’t know.”

“No, it’s fine. I had a crazy enough story with my family growing up, what’s five more.”

“Five?” Phil asked, raising an eyebrow.

Grian started counting on his fingers. “Finding out that Tommy was my brother, the whole situation Techno caused, finding our Zedaph is related to me, finding out you’ve got a brother, and then Mum mentioning there was more to that.”

Phil sighed. “Oh, she told you about that? Okay first off, we’re half brothers, so that’s normally why he’s left out of things. Plus, he’s been doing his own thing for a while. I haven’t really heard from him since his letters about Minecrack.”

Grian paused, processing that new information before grabbing one of the blankets and screaming into it, Grum patting his dad on the back.

“Is he okay?” Phil asked, making Zedaph shake his head.

“Some of the hermits used to live there, so one of them might have met your brother. Sorry, half brother.”

“Ah, good to know.”

Grian slowly put the blanket down. “Okay, obviously talking is just making things worse. How about we all shut up for like… ten minutes while we still have some peace? I’m scared if we try much else, something else will come out of the woodwork and make things worse again.”

“Ugh, normally I’d hate not talking,” Tommy piped up with an agreeing groan. “But for once, you’ve got a point.”

“For once?!”

Tommy didn’t say anything else, just mimed zipping his lips up, locking them, and throwing away the key.

Grian woke up, glad it wasn’t from a nightmare. He, Tommy and Grum were the only ones left in the nest from before, but he smiled upon seeing the empty space had been given to Tommy’s friends. Ranboo seemed to have been dragged in based on his awkward position, likely by Tubbo and Michael who seemed much more comfortable.

Looking around, it didn’t seem anyone else was in the room, voices coming from elsewhere in the building. Grian carefully moved Grum closer to Tommy, the bot happily clinging to the teen instead. He then pulled himself out of the nest, doing his best not to wake anyone in the process.

He was glad to see everyone looked calm and nothing immediately seemed concerning. The closest thing was what looked like a living diamond walking around, but the fact that no one else was concerned made it less worrying. “So, who’s the new… person I think.”

Phil looked over to where Grian was standing now. “His name’s Skeppy. When the world got repaired, the people that weren’t already revived showed up. It also fixed my wings.” And he let one of them open up so Grian could see.

“Good to know. Nothing bad’s happened yet?” Grian asked, and Phil shook his head. “That’s good. Once Grum and Tommy are away, I’m going to be taking them home. I mean, unless Tommy wants to stay, because he might want to see people again, but Grum still needs repairs. Plus I need to talk with Mumbo about something I found out.”

“Anything bad?”

Grian shook his head. “Not necessarily, just something we need to be aware of.” Then Grian was quiet for a while before speaking up again. “You know, ever since I found it again, I’ve been taking care of the castle.”

“You mean… back in-?”

“Yeah. The place I grew up in has way too many bad memories attached. Evo’s gone and my building world is lonely. Hermitcraft is the closest thing I have to a home, but being able to take a break and go back there helps.”

Phil smiled. “Well, you’ll have to show me what you’ve done with the place.”

“Yeah.” Grian smiled. “I’ll try to visit with Tommy plenty. I’m sure you want to stay here now that it looks like things are calmed down. I’m sure you’ll want to visit us, or at least someone will, so I’ll look into that.”

“Just don’t go silent for eighteen years.” Phil joked, making Grian whack him in the back of his head with a wing.

From there, the two of them chatted, catching up. Both of them avoided the more unfavorable topics, which was a bit tricky, but they managed. At least they did for a while. “Hey… I’m sorry. I know I screwed up with Tommy.”

“Can we not talk about that?” Grian said, ruffling his feathers. “Enough has happened. I don’t want to talk about serious stuff right now.”

“Well who knows when we’ll get another chance.”

Grian sighed. “Fine, but I’m making it quick. Since you’re not going to be around, I’m just trusting you’ll maybe do better. I can check in any time I want, so just know if you screw up, there’s a good chance I’ll see it. There’s a good chance I’ll break down your door if I heard more stories from Tommy, but for like the next week or so, you’re safe. Is that good enough?”

Phil hesitated for a moment before responding. “Alright, sure.”

As soon as he responded, Grian went back to the other room, glad to see Tommy was awake. When Grian replayed the options to Tommy, the teen thought it over before deciding he would stay behind for a little bit at the very least. He didn’t want to disappear while Ranboo and Tubbo were both asleep. Grian made sure Tommy still had NPG’s old comm so that he could call for Grian to pick him up again.

Grian carefully picked Grum up, the bot clinging to his chest, then he opened a portal to take them home.

Grian was glad that the repairs ended up being mostly his job to fix. The redstone seemed unharmed, save for right near the trident wound and Grum’s buttons. Technically the buttons themselves were mainly aesthetic anyway, but some redstone was close by so they needed to be careful.

Once everything was fixed, they plugged Grum in to be safe and then Grian started explaining what he had learned. Mumbo was surprised and excused himself briefly to try contacting people for information. For the most part, he was able to get help, but in terms of whatever glitch the bots had, the information was too vague for anyone to get a good guess.

Grian got Xisuma to take a look, but unfortunately the admin couldn’t figure anything out. Neither could Xannes, but that was affected by NPG wanting to go home soon and check in his aerbunny.

With no other options, Grian was ready to use his Watcher magic, but he was quickly interrupted. Suddenly Grifter was there and threw himself into Grian’s arms, leaving the Watcher struggling to hold his double up before just dropping him. “What are you doing here?”

“Hiding?” Grifter answered innocently. “I kinda messed up, though Dad did too.”

“What did you do?” Grian growled as Grifter stood up and dusted himself off.

“Okay, so dad wanted me killing Nightmare. That’s cool, I did that. He just kinda let it slip his mind that he didn’t tell Punch. So now until Dad talks him down, I’m hiding here! Also watching for spies. Who knows where they could be hiding.”

Grian half groaned, half sighed. “How do I know you’re not going to destroy the place?”

“Uh, because that would make it obvious I’m here, duh. Look, just tell me what you want and I’ll do it. I mean, if it’s something other than leaving. I’m sticking here because if I get seen here, he’ll assume it’s just you. Wait, I’m going to need to get out of my new look. That’s no fun, I really like th-”

“Okay shut up for like five seconds. I don’t have the patience for this today. You said there was something of a glitch with my kids. Tell me what it is or fix it or something and you can stay for a bit. If you cause any trouble, you’re out though.”

“Oh yes of course!” Grifter responded, hugging Grian. “Okay, so the problem is kinda pretty simple. They aren't completely connected to this world so other data is being used to check where they’re from. If everything’s just within this world, it’s fine, but it fucks up their respawn if it’s not.”

“That’s… that’s it?”

“Yup! Just tell your admin and I’m sure he can- OH FUCK! Gimmie your bowwwww!” Grian suddenly started doing his best to climb Grian, having little luck with them being the same height. Grian did his best to keep his balance before seeing what exactly was freaking his hels copy. Nearby, a chicken had walked into view, and apparently that was the problem.

Grian gave a deadpan look before killing the chicken, which immediately calmed Grifter down. “You were scared… of a chicken?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I said he could be sending spies!”

“And… those are chickens?”

“Yes! Of course!” Grifter exclaimed like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Grian wanted to sigh in exasperation, but then he realized that this was good news. If for some reason Grifter acted up, well, a certain hero could help save the day.

“Alright, maybe this might not be the safest place for you here, but you can stay.”

“Why? Why isn’t it safe? Are there lots of spies?”

“Oh, we have the worst one yet. His name is Poultry Man. Have you ever heard of him.”

“I have! I thought Xannes was lying! He’s really real?!” Grifter asked, trembling, making Grian have to hold in laughter.

“Well, he hasn’t been around for a while, but who knows? If - you said Punch? - if he’s looking for you, Poultry Man might show up.”

“Oh no! Do you have anything to stop him?”

Grian couldn’t help the sly smile that got onto his face. “Well…”

Grum watched as Mumbo looked through a bunch of books. He had gotten fixed up, but his daddy said there was still something they needed to figure out, so Dad was out doing that. But he had left a while ago and sitting in one place for a long time was getting boring. “Daddy, how much longer do I have to wait here?”

Mumbo jumped slightly before looking up from his book, which just made Grum frown. Obviously he had been forgotten about. “Um, well, I suppose that depends on what your dad does.”

“But I’ve just been sitting here for ages.” Grum crossed his arms.

“I know, but apparently there’s a bug in your system and until we can identify it, we want to keep you safe. You’ve already been through a lot, I’m sure you don’t want anything more happening.”

“But Daddy I-”

“Grum, this isn’t up for discussion.” Mumbo cut the bot off, who flinched back at the harsh tone. “I know. I don’t like it either. But sometimes the harder options are the better ones.”

Grum was quiet again, just thinking. Mumbo started to look at his book again, but then the bot spoke up once more. “Is it about Console? Or my chat in general?”

“What?” Mumbo looked back up, confused.

“Well, Jrum’s not here, so it has to be something that’s just me, correct? That would likely involve when the admin was using me as a console or the fact that I have gained a chat like Techno, Phil and, based on conversation, Dad.”

“Oh, you mean MFDD? At least I’m still pretty sure that’s what we said it was. I’d have to go digging for my old books again. And Grian might have them at this point.”

“What’s MFDD?” Grum asked, tilting his head.

“It’s the abbreviation for the condition we’re pretty sure Grian has. But it’s a condition that last I checked, was still in a sort of odd state, and I’ve been in Hermitcraft since school, so I’m not updated on it.” Mumbo glanced over to Grum, who just looked confused. “Right. Well, the simple version is that’s what the real name of your Dad’s ‘chat’ is. MFDD. But based on what he told me, that’s not what you have.”

“Oh. Wait, I don’t?” Grum asked, sounding worried and slightly panicked.

“Don’t worry, it’s fine. It’s nothing bad. I’m sure we’ll need to get it properly diagnosed, but the fact that you seem to have what’s like… multiple people in your mind and they can sometimes be in control, along with the fact that it happened after… stressful events. That all likely means it’s DID. Which essentially means you have multiple personalities.”

“And is that good or bad?”

Mumbo rubbed his mustache. “Well, I don’t think it’s necessarily good or bad in and of itself. I wish I knew more about this… In short, it’s at the very least not bad. Or at least not bad if you don’t let it be bad.”

“I still don’t understand.” Grum frowned, leaving Mumbo to try and figure out some other way to explain.

“Hmm… It’s. Uh… Well let’s see. Well it… no that wouldn’t make sense. It’s… Oh! So, when you’re building, say you make a house. And the house has a bunch of rooms. It’s all one house, but there are different rooms and um… well each one has its own person.” Grum nodded along, mostly understanding. “And well, you own the house even though others live there. Because you own the house, you’re in charge.”

“But sometimes I’m not. Like Console and Eyes decide to be in charge or I let them.”

“Well, sometimes something… happens. Like maybe you’re busy… cooking? And so if you’re doing that, someone else gets to be in charge. Or maybe you just want to… sit on the couch?”

Grum’s digital mustache twitched in thought before he nodded. “Okay, I think that makes sense.”

Mumbo nodded, turning back to his books before sighing, glad that what he made up on the spot worked.

“Mumbooooo! I’m back! I figured out what’s wrong! We need to take the boys to Xisuma!” Mumbo jumped from Grian arriving, then was confused to see two of him.

“Why is Grifter here?”

“Long story, it’s fine for now, we need Xisuma. Let’s go go go!”

Mumbo just stared for a moment before sighing and shrugging before going to get Jrum. It didn’t seem like anything bad was happening, so there was a fifty fifty shot it really was fine. Maybe less since there were two Grian’s involved, but it was something Mumbo came to expect with Grian in general.

#hermit!tommy au #hermit!tommy #hc x dsmp #grian #watcher!grian #grian xelqua #avian!Grian #tommyinnit #xisuma #xisumavoid #evil xisuma #mumza #mumza as death #zedaph #philza #technoblade #grumbot #hels!grian #mumbo jumbo

26 notes · View notes

classic80sand90smovieloves2 · 4 years

Text

Meeting and Dating Severen

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

- You first met Severen at the sleazy bar you called your place of employment. You were serving a booth their drinks when he and the others made their entrance. And oh what an entrance it was.

- As per usual, Severen started to make chaos the moment he walked in, talking/laughing loudly and nearly getting himself into a fight. You really didn’t want to go over and serve him but you were the only there besides one other bartender and the man was conveniently MIA.

- So you swallowed down your feelings of dread and maneuvered yourself behind the bar.

- The rowdy man straightened himself out upon your arrival, a Cheshire grin spreading across his face as he focused his sights on you.

“Well ain’t you a pretty little thing.”

- Against your better judgement, a small smile spread across your face. He was much more handsome up close, and when he was behaving himself properly.

- There was an undeniable attraction growing between the two of you, especially on his part. He acted the same as he always did with women but there was something different about you, something special.

- Lets make things clear, none of these vamps know how to do things conventionally, especially not Severen. You don’t have a romantic start to your relationship, you have a frightening one.

- Shit hit the fan not long after you poured the unusual patron a drink. Like a rational person, you plastered yourself against the wall and watched with wide eyes as him and the others dealt with the other occupants of the bar.

- Once they were finished, Severen hopped down on your side of the bar, throwing his arm around your shoulders and calling you cute.

“I think we should keep her.” He grinned, twirling a piece of your hair between his bloodied fingers.

- You were obviously afraid; as one should be, but a part of you was weirdly accepting of the situation. It was as though what you’d experienced was so unreal that your mind decided to rationalize it as though it were normal.

- So when Severen began to lead you out of the bar with them, throwing a pointed look at his companions as they opened their mouths to argue, you just let him. And when he pulled you into the rv with them, talking your ear off and blatantly flirting; you let him do that too.

- Don’t blame yourself too much for your questionable decisions, you’ll find out soon enough that the two of you are mates.

- Since your new friends burnt down the bar, anyone who was aware of your existence thought you were dead which made things particularly easy for Severen.

- For better or for worse, the two of you grew close very quickly and soon enough he decided to shoot his shot. He announced that he would “watch you” as everyone went out in search of a meal.

- While the two of you were walking, he began to ramble on about how you made a good team and how it “only made sense” for the two of you to get together.

“So what do you say?” He grinned at you cockily.

- He kisses you for the first time once you agree, letting out a “well come here then” before he swiftly pulls you in and lays one on you.

- And thus, the chaotic vampire found his one true love.

- Pda? I mean you aren’t in public all that much but he’s constantly hanging all over you so I suppose that’s pretty much the same thing.

- Whenever you are in public, he’s making sure everyone knows that you’re together by keeping his hands on you at all times. He’s very proud of his girl.

- Bear hugs. He’s constantly pulling you in and wrapping his arms tightly around you. He’s going to squeeze the life out of you one day; you’re sure of it.

- Hugs from behind. They’re mainly an excuse for him to grind against your backside.

- Dancing together.

- Holding hands.

- Sooo many pet names; sometimes you’re sure that he’s forgotten your real name. You aren’t complaining though, it makes everytime he calls you your real name even more special/ powerful.

- Affectionate name calling. He can’t explain why he enjoys having you call him an asshole but you should know that he does.

- He likes picking you up, typically by your clothing before he decides that he wants to hold you close.

- Bloody kisses. You better get used to the taste.

- Be wary when he tries to flatter you, especially in excess. He typically has an ulterior motive when he starts to bombard you with compliments.

- He’s constantly teasing you. There is never a time when he isn’t poking fun and trying to get a reaction out of you.

- He’s an annoying ass yet sweet at the same time. He gives off crackhead older brother vibes most of the time. He can mess with you but is ready to tear someone a new one if they try doing the same.

- Witnessing him kick a door down then slide out of the way and hold it open for you with this innocent little doting boyfriend smile. It’s kind of amusing to see how quickly his attitude shifts when you’re involved.

- He’s constantly stealing things for you. You learn not to ask where he gets them from since it’s either a store or someone who’s no longer breathing.

- Causing chaos together. Want to steal a car? Want to start a fire? Want to go completely ape shit? He’s got an anarchist mind and he’s ready for a partner in crime; literally.

- He’s always trying to make you laugh. It isn’t hard for him which never fails to give him an ego boost. He boasts about how you find him hilarious to the others both when you and when you aren’t around.

- Getting to see all his neat little gun tricks. He likes being able to impress you.

- He may or may not get turned on when you handle his guns. Be prepared for more than a few innuendos and instances of him tearing off your clothes.

- He would absolutely feed on you if given the chance. He’d call you delicious before pressing his bloodied lips to your cheek and calling you “a doll”.

- He can clean up surprisingly well. You were genuinely shocked when you saw him all dressed up for the first time.

- Falling asleep on him in the rv.

- The two of you don’t exactly have a bed 90% of the time so you just have to try and cuddle however you can. A lot of the time, you’ll be sitting on his lap with him pressed against your back.

- You’ll have to change your sleep schedule if you want to spend any length of time with him. You being tired sort of kills the mood, even if he finds sleepy you adorable.

- You’re sort of used as a clothing rack. His sunglasses? On you. His jacket? On you. His rings? On you. Its both for “safe keeping” and because you look cute in them.

- Occasionally helping him lure in his victims, or being called a sweetheart when you refuse to.

- He’d find your morals both sweet and exasperating. He enjoys how innocent and kind you are but also yearns for you to be a little evil once in a while.

- Whenever you’re out on the town, he’ll either drag you to the bar with him or you’ll sit with the others in a booth while he does his thing. You‘ll most likely prefer the latter, you might not want to be in the line of fire when he starts causing trouble.

- Playing with or watching him play pool. He likes to wink at you whenever he catches you watching him closely, usually before he makes a perfect shot.

- He curses like a sailor. You can’t remember how many times you’ve had to scold him or slap his arm because he was being completely inappropriate in the worst way possible.

- He also uses insults like they mean nothing. He’ll either call you something or call someone else something which usually tends to start some trouble.

- You pretty much have to keep an eye on him at all times since you know it only takes him a few seconds to completely destroy the peace in the room or wherever else he is. As fun as it is to see him go crazy, sometimes it’s best to not let him get to that point.

- Joking threats. He likes playing up his vampirism, trying to make you a little nervous and enjoying the subtle acceleration of your heart. Even so, he’s the only one that’s allowed to scare you.

- He’s very protective of you even though he; oftentimes, tries to hide it with humor. He tries not to make a big deal out of things until he really has to though occasionally something will really set him off. You’ll be able to see the mirderous intent in his eyes, the twinkles leaves them and they just go cold as his smile drops.

- Anyone that tries to flirt with you is immediately plotted against. It isn’t uncommon for him to kill people that he thinks are trying to get with you. Jesse’s had to hold him back a few times when the group can’t afford a body on their hands. So yes, he’s extremely jealous.

- He claims you with one of his rings, making sure you know exactly what you wearing it means.

“This here,” he takes your hand roughly. “This here means that you’re mine, darlin. Dont you forget it.”

- A sick part of him likes when you get mad or jealous at/over him. Seeing you get all vicious and vindictive makes his day.

- You don’t expect it but he’s fairly good at easing tension. The only problem is that he rarely wants to ease tension. It really just depends on what’s going on, sometimes he’ll want to fight and sometimes he won’t; particularly when it comes to you.

- He’s got a wicked temper and no patience for complaining or anything of the sort. You’ll certainly have your fair share of fights, especially if you plan on staying together for a “long time”.

- He tries to make you smile when “pleading” for your forgiveness. He tries to “cute” or bother his way out of trouble when he manages to really piss you off. You can never really stay mad at him for that exact reason.

- You get a lot of teasing/joking ‘I love you’s’ but you get a few more earnest ones as well. You cherish them since they’re few and far between.

- There’s a part of him which doesn’t want to turn you, keeping you soft and warm, but another part of him couldn’t bear to see you get hurt or imagine a world where you’re not by his side. So he’ll most likely put off biting you for a while before he finally bucks up and does it.

- He’s ready to spend the rest of eternity with you so believe me; he isn’t letting you go anytime soon.

#severen imagine #severen headcanons #severen headcanon #80s movie imagine #80s movie headcanons #80s movie headcanon #80s imagine #80s imagines #near dark headcanons #near dark headcanon #near dark imagine

195 notes · View notes

lilhawkeye3 · 4 years

Text

dead man walking

Character: Commander Fox.

Summary: Everything crumbles once Fives dies.

Trigger warnings: depression, suicide. It’s not happy.

A/N: please don’t read this if you’re having a bad day.

AO3 Link

~~~

His heart may keep beating the first time he pulls the trigger, but his life ends then.

~~~~~

He can only remember flashes of what happened that day, little snippets of the moment his world finally crumbled. The shout of his brothers, the shaky words of a dying vod, the recoil of his blaster.

He can’t remember, but no one lets him forget.

~~~~~

It starts out small, at first. Murmurs and whispers from visiting battalions and the shiniest clones in the Guard.

Murderer.

Brother-killer.

It’s followed by cold looks, by orders followed to the bare minimum, by shoves and tripped-up feet as he walks in the halls.

He manages to take it all without flinching, until the day one brother sneers back at him and calls him CC-1010.

“You’ve no right to a name, to call yourself a vod, 1010.”

The words fall from the lips of a drunk 501st trooper the Guard had picked up for disorderly conduct. Fox leaves his cell without a word to inform Rex that he has a wayward trooper.

~~~~~

Rex finds him in his office. He signs a form to collect his man, and leaves Fox with a brutal right hook and cracked jaw.

Stone finds Fox hours later sitting with his head in his hands and his back against his desk, mumbling about how he deserved every bit of it.

~~~~~

It’s no surprise the Chancellor finds out.

His words, while sympathetic on the surface, leave oily trails in Fox’s mind. They find his cracks and fill them with poison, saying how sorry he is to hear of Fox’s recent difficulties, but neither side can be blamed. The troopers, who are such basic, animalistic creatures that they would attack one of their own, or Fox, for completing his sworn duty to defend the Republic.

Fox can only stand there and listen to it all—

~~~~~

He leaves the office with a hazy mind, not truly recalling the events of the meeting, but feeling more beaten down than before.

~~~~~

She is the only good thing in his life.

Riyo holds him protectively in her arms as he shakes under the weight of it all, despite her being much smaller.

She accepts him despite not knowing what’s wrong. He can’t spill all his burdens onto her. They’re his to bear, to continue to roll up this incline even if they slip from his fingers before he reaches the top. This is his punishment, not hers.

He’s failed her, even if she refuses to hear him say such a thing.

He shouldn’t be near her. Shouldn’t let her touch him. She’s so pure, so precious— he can’t let his sins taint her light.

She says she loves him, but he knows that’s not true. A thing like him isn’t something anyone can love.

He allows himself to kiss her forehead one last time before he leaves while she sleeps.

~~~~~

There is a call to 79’s to break up a fight on his patrol. When he and his squad arrive, it is to find the matter at hand was him. One of his Corries stood up for him, and it was all downhill from there.

Fox remains outside while his squad handles it. If he goes in, he knows he’ll only make things worse.

All he ever does is make things worse.

He looks up as an armored figure approaches him. He doesn’t have time to register anything about them, other than it’s unmistakably a fellow clone trooper, when their blaster is drawn and a searing pain shoots through his shoulder. He falls to his knees as the shot is followed by two more: one to his right hand and one to his left thigh.

He’s left on the cold ground.

~~~~~

He comes to in the medbay. He wishes he hadn’t.

What a waste of resources. It could have been used on someone else.

“You’re awake.”

He turns his head to find Wolffe sitting beside him. His face is unreadable, but his brown eye burns with fury.

Fox doesn’t say anything. He simply returns to staring blankly at the ceiling.

“Vod—”

“Don’t call me that.” His voice is raspy, unused. When is the last time he spoke to anyone outside of his shifts? “I’m not a brother. Not anymore.”

Wolffe is silent. Maybe he’ll leave him alone now.

“Who did this to you, Fox?”

His smile is like broken glass. “Didn’t you hear? I did, of course.”

“We both know you didn’t shoot yourself.”

“Not yet.”

Wolffe’s growl draws Fox’s gaze again. “That’s not karking funny, Fox.”

“You know what is funny?” Fox laughs brokenly. “That you’re here. Rex broke my jaw. Bly blocked all transmissions from me. Cody was in a conference call and didn’t once acknowledge me. Just said, ‘Commander of the Guard.’” His eyes are tired as he meets Wolffe’s. “Bet you’re here so you can tell them they still have a disappointment in the batch.”

Wolffe sighs as he runs a hand down his face. “Fox... I lost a battalion of men. All of them, except for two. I heard them cry out to me as they were slaughtered one by one in what should have been their saviors. I listened to them scream as they were murdered, as they listened and watched their brothers die around them.” Here he leans forward, his hand reaching up to clench Fox’s uninjured shoulder firmly. “I can hear your screams too, Fox’ika. I will not sit and do nothing as I listen to a brother dying. Not again.”

Fox flinched and tore his eyes away from his batchmate, finding a fixed point over his shoulder to stare at instead. “You’re too late.”

~~~~~

The Chancellor calls for him once he’s released.

Fox idly wonders how broken he truly is when he finds himself back in his office, not able to coherently remember if he ever made it to the meeting.

~~~~~

Only his fellow commanders in the Guard interact with him now outside of what is required for duties.

A part of him wonders why Stone keeps asking when he last ate. It doesn’t matter anyways.

He’s not sure why Thire counts the hours he’s been awake. At least in the waking world, he can bury himself in work. When asleep, he’s left to the mercies of his ghosts, the ones that whisper that his time is far overdue, that he’s only causing more problems being alive.

He knows they’re right. It’s only a matter of time, he supposes.

~~~~~

So he writes.

He’s never been one for writing, thanks to all the reports he’s had to draft, edit, review and sign off on. But... he’s a clone. He’ll have nothing left to his name anyways besides these words. It’s selfish, yes, but it’s all he has left.

So he writes.

He writes to Rex about all the memories he has of them whispering quietly at night on Kamino, dreaming about their lives when they finally got to see the stars. He wonders where it all went wrong— probably somewhere at the start. He tells him that he’s one of the best commanders out there, even if he never formally received the rank yet.

He writes to Bly, saying that while he isn’t worthy of love... Bly is. He shouldn’t let it slip through his fingers.

He writes to Cody, outlining the lack of memories he has about the Chancellor. How he thinks he’s investigated something, but can never remember what. Files mysteriously erasing. Men sent on missions that didn’t exist. His blaster— it should’ve been set to stun. He gives him one last mystery to solve, knowing Cody won’t accept any weak, mundane attempt of an apology.

He writes to Ponds, even though he’s long gone. It’ll go to his general, because Fox knows his brother still lives on in him. He asks if he’ll be forgiven, if there’s an after where they’re all waiting for him. He asks if they’d welcome him, even if he’s broken and can’t remember what he’s done anymore. He says he’s glad Ponds had a General who cared, because he was glad that his brothers were taken care of even if the universe punished him with the Chancellor’s oily words in return.

He writes to Stone and Thorn and Thire, and says he’s sorry he couldn’t help them. He tried to keep the weight off their backs as long as he could... and he now had to pay the price. He tells them he’s proud of them.

...He writes to Riyo, his starlight, the one who taught him of a different type of love. He says he’s sorry. He hopes she keeps shining bright for everyone around her to see. He tells her how every smile, every laugh, every crinkle of her eyes in happiness gave him something to keep living for, if only for a while. She’s the most precious thing in the world, and he’s sorry to have ever burdened her with his inconsequential self.

He writes to Wolffe.

Well, he stares at the datapad for countless minutes, and then he writes to Wolffe.

He gives Wolffe every bit of spark left within him. He gives him every happy memory, every trying moment, ever second of calm he’s ever had. He tells Wolffe how everything went wrong, how his mind had betrayed him just as he’d betrayed his brothers, how he didn’t know who he was anymore. He tells Wolffe of the reason behind each scar and tattoo on his body, how his hair had become peppered with gray, how he’d done his best to live up to the name Wolffe had given him.

He thanks Wolffe for being his vod. He tells him he’s proud, and to keep fighting.

~~~~~

When he’s finished, he sends his words out across the galaxy. Maybe one of them will read his final thoughts, and keep him alive in theirs, even if he doesn’t deserve it.

He sets the datapad on his desk and reaches for his blaster.

The cold durasteel against his temple is fitting, he feels. It matches the emptiness within him.

~~~~~

after.

#commander fox #star wars the clone wars #drabble #foxiyo #commander wolffe #captain rex #commander cody #commander stone #commander thire #riyo chuchi #unhappy ending #angst and pain #no comfort #hawk's rambles #i’m tired #dead man walking

234 notes · View notes