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horseshoegirl · 25 days

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Set Me Alight: Part 7 - Paint It, Black

📜Life is messy. And complicated. And writer blocky, with a dash of imposter syndrome... I just want to put that out there... Anyway...

Well, the poll won out. You all want to know what Jake said to Midge. This is solely a flashback chapter. I can't say I'm surprised at who you all disliked in the last chapter, though I hope this one will give you some insight into why Midge has held on to this for as long as she has.

Special thank you to @teacupsandtopgun for helping me to write a certain part of this! You can thank her for the puns! And @sarahsmi13s for taking a peak at it!

❗️+18, Minors DNI, Strong Language, Enemies to Lovers, Original Female Character (s), Short OFC, Bradley Bradshaw x Natasha Trace, flashbacks, Halloween college parties, school, angst, sexual themes (overhearing), drunkness/inxotication. I mentioned angst, right? 💀

#8k <- yes, i know

Part 6 | Masterlist | Part 8

*Halloween Four Years Ago*

Giving orders to a football team to put up Halloween directions was not an easy feat. They were kids in a joke shop, only too happy to take every opportunity to jump-scare each other with a spider, a white sheet or slide out from behind a door and shout boo!

Despite the antics, you were grateful for the help. Nat and you wouldn’t have finished in time. And even then, you suspected Nat probably would have given up halfway through, merely deciding to throw Yellow Caution Tape on the walls and call it a day.

You wouldn’t have stopped - even if it became a doomed effort.

Bradley’s friends weren’t what you expected them to be. True, their appearance fit the bill a thousand times over. Tall, broad shoulders and bulging muscles were all the product of hard work - including Bob, who was smaller than the rest, though not by much. Even their mannerisms, from how they acted childish and goofy to how they winked or playfully flirted, everything you saw played into the stereotypical type that was the classic college football jock.

Then you got to know them—really know them—and hated yourself for ever associating them as such.

You already knew Bradley and had met him on occasion. When he stayed over to be with Nat, he was often up before you, and you’d chat with him over a cup of coffee. He always brought her a cup to wake her up when he could, and it always made you smile.

His story was a sad one. His father passed away when he was only two years old, leaving his mom to raise him alone. While he couldn’t regale you with his memories of him, he instead offered you the stories attached to his father’s things: a button-up Hawaiian shirt in pale pastels, a pair of coffee-brown Ray Ban sunglasses, and even a worn Milk chocolate leather-strapped bag he used to lug his books around campus.

Then, his mom passed away in high school, and his father’s best friend took him up until the point decided to leave for school. Bradley chose his words carefully when he spoke of any of them, offering little, and you wondered if the loss was still too much for him to bear.

Or something else had happened, and he didn’t want anyone to know.

But as you helped him blow up a few balloons for the floor, a song from a later decade played through the speakers, and Bradley lit up, producing a smile wider than the nearby Jack-o-lantern. He launched into a story about how much his parents loved music and how his father would play the piano, which alone made him want to learn.

You asked him if and when he did if he’d play for you one day.

Javy Machado, however, couldn’t be more different from Bradley if he tried.

He was just as meticulous as you when it came to detail. The two of you were discussing the best way to tape Velcro to the kitchen cupboards to stick fluff to the sides and mimic cobwebs when you discovered this fact. He was … quietly smooth and persuasive, with a suave smile that indicated he could charm his way into or out of any situation he wanted without needing to flirt or play it thick.

“Angle it like this, Maeve,” he had explained, stretching the piece out. “Principle of maximum contact area equals maximum adhesive stretch.”

You had raised your eyebrows at that remark, which prompted him to chuckle softly.

"Science major," he shrugged with that smile, making your internal monologue stutter to a halt until you went, "Wait... What?!"

He only laughed at your reaction, amused in a way like he’d been expecting it. But it was that look of genuine interest in his eyes that made you ask him properly.

He didn't know what field of science to specialize in, but Javy made all of it sound amazing. From stars to not dirt—it's soil—to understanding how the world worked, he knew he wanted to spend his life trying to figure it all out. If he could throw a ball around and be part of a team with his friends, he considered himself fortunate to do both.

Even if his passion was so far removed from your own, you may have seen some of yourself in his journey, trying to fit in while doing what you loved most.

Holding up a string of lights against the wall, Reuben Flitch told you he was floating through school, waiting for the day he could finally be free. On that day, he’d take over his family’s business. Comparing him to the fractured story of your brother and sister following in your parent’s footsteps never seemed to cross your mind.

Because when you asked what the business was, his face lit up with an enthusiasm you hadn’t expected.

“My grandparents own vineyards," he had beamed. "They've been in the family for generations. I've grown up with the land, the grapes, and the entire winemaking process."

He told you stories of growing up, playing through the vines and rows of trellises, making you long for the rows of apple trees at Aunt Viv's. He also talked about spending time with his grandfather, learning the process of pressing grapes and his grandmother tending and picking the grapes. He spoke about the people, everyone from the gardeners to the people who bottled the wine to his siblings, with whom he'd played hide-and-seek within the cellars.

He told you a business major was worth it, as much as he loathed it, if he could own the place one day.

You hoped he did.

But Mickey Garica and Bob Floyd were... characters, to say the least. It was easy to talk with them, even laugh with them, as the three of you spread tiny black spiders all over the apartment.

Mickey couldn’t stop asking if you could paint him one day, though you imagined it would be fandom-inspired rather than a realistic portrait. The second you asked him about his favourite universe, he launched into a word vomit of praise for each and every one. He spoke of Lord of the Rings, Marvel, Star Wars, Star Trek, and Batman—not DC—as the character deserved to be separated from the rest.

It made you wonder if the one portrait would be enough. Still, you happily humoured him, saying you needed the practice.

He was in Health Sciences, hoping it would be enough to get his foot in the door to become a firefighter. He talked about it so passionately, about being capable of making a difference and saving lives, that you honestly couldn’t see him in any other role.

And given the opportunity, Bob was so full of sass and witty comebacks to the ones you managed to throw his way, you were surprised he was seeking an Anthropology and Archaeology degree. He seemed to have a natural talent for what Comedians had labelled “crowd work.” You honestly would have taken him for a drama major had he not told you differently.

However, once he explained his choice, you understood why. Growing up, having been a Boy Scout, learning about nature, rocks, and life. He wanted to know more about life, history, and how things were.

A visit to an archeological dig site in high school sold it for him. His eyes lit up when he spoke about ancient civilizations, lost artifacts, and all the mysteries surrounding human evolution. He rattled off facts about Neanderthals and cave paintings, which had you urging him for more.

He happily obliged and was encouraging when you offered a few that you knew of.

All of them were so passionate about what they wanted to do with their lives, even Bradley, who wanted to pursue football seriously as a career; you admired all of them for it with your entire heart.

But Jake Seresin was... you didn’t know. Nor did he, it seemed.

Jake was there at your side every time you went back up that ladder, claiming someone needed to catch you should you fall again. You had rolled your eyes, a slight smirk gracing your face, but you let him all the same.

He wasn’t as open as the others, wanting to flirt with you more than anything else. Somehow, you managed to get him talking about football, and when you asked him why he played, he admitted that his father had gone and played at the school. He had been urged to apply, and his family would support him throughout his entire ride.

“Family money,” he said, his tone light when you gawked at him. You didn’t ask what his parents did, but knowing he came from a rich family, you wondered if he didn't want people to know. You certainly didn't. Nat didn’t know, at least not yet.

It prompted him to add his parents weren’t pressuring him into one career or another; they simply wanted him to keep up with the sport. So, he was buying time and taking electives, trying to figure it out, though he would have to make a decision soon.

And it made you wonder, under that confidence, under that layer of charm and ease on his surface, if he was searching for what everyone else in the group had already found. While everyone else didn’t fit the stereotype, you wondered if Jake was attempting to mould himself into it.

How you wished to tell him, he didn’t have to.

But Jake wasn’t a painting you could tear apart or theorize about. And as you pinned that last streamer to the ceiling, you realized over the course of the afternoon, you’d unwittingly developed a bit of a crush on him.

You weren’t stupid. You recognized the signs the second he caught you off that ladder. The second he handed you that shot. He was laying on the charm, the flirty glances, the playful smiles. Even the slight touches on your waist as you leaned back, pining streamers to the ceiling, were waving the red flags in your head.

Jake was either genuinely interested or actively looking for someone to hook up with tonight.

It wouldn’t be you, that’s for sure—not even for someone so charming and handsome as Jake Seresin.

In the last two hours, the guys took turns getting ready first while everyone else finished with the final touches. They wanted you and Natasha to go first, but you vehemently refused, knowing they’d ruin hours of hard work if left unsupervised.

You also wanted to see this through to the end, but you kept that to yourself. You had revealed enough of your quirky, artsy side to them. You did not need to add to it by gushing over the decorations or how the entire apartment turned out, possibly damaging whatever relationship you'd established so far.

People were weird when it came to shit like that.

Jake and Bradley emerged from Nat’s bedroom just as the two of you were headed toward yours. The hallway was already lit in a deep red from the lights now neatly strung up in the corners of the ceiling. Though the sun was beginning to set, shining warm light through your window, you knew the total effect would be entirely eerie when night rolled around. You couldn’t wait to see it.

Bradley was dressed as Indiana Jones: a white shirt, a brown leather jacket, and a fake whip at his side. His outfit was complementary to Nat's Marion Ravenwood, her costume the classic white dress from the first movie you spent a while making. Though she did ask you to take some creative liberties with the design, the dress was more risque than necessary.

The only thing remotely movie-accurate about it would be the puffy sleeves.

You couldn't help but whistle when Jake stepped out from behind Bradley. Instantly perking up at the noise, he let out a sly smirk and straightened the lapels of his deep black leather jacket.

"Danny Zuko, huh?" you laughed softly. "Guess you've got the whole 'bad boy' vibe down."

Jake smirked at you, copying one of the iconic character's signature moves by sliding his hands into his black leather jacket pockets as he strode by. "Only missing my Sandy. You wouldn't happen to know where I could find one, would you?"

You coyly peered at him over your shoulder as you continued down the hall. Unknown to either of you, Nat and Bradley had stopped to watch the interaction, filled to the brim with curiosity.

"Wouldn't know. I'm more of a Rizzo myself. Too much sass and not enough patience for leather pants."

"To get into them or to get out?"

With a glimmer in your eyes and a smirk on your lips, you pivoted to face Jake completely, still walking backwards. “You're quite the smooth talker, aren’t you?”

Jake shrugged, giving off the vibe of, ‘I can’t help my reputation.’ However, you could see the easy grin on his face, and one side of his mouth crooked upwards, making him appear boyish—just like the character he was dressed up as.

It made your heart flutter inside your chest.

“It’s a shame I’m more into the rough-around-the-edges type,” you teased softly, pausing by the corner.

Liar. Oh, you horrible liar.

Jake’s grin didn’t disappear when you saw him press his tongue to the inside of his cheek, arching an eyebrow. Instead, it turned into a knowing smirk.

“Is that so?” he teased.

You flushed, at a loss for words. Jake's teasing gaze lingered, and the lift in the corner of his mouth suggested he saw right through your lie. Your cheeks burned hot.

Jake's chuckle echoed softly down the hallway as you made your escape, somehow making your heart race faster. You didn't dare look back, but you could feel his eyes on you as you turned the corner and down the hallway to your bedroom.

As Jake retreated back into the apartment, Bradley coughed lightly. He exchanged a knowing look with Nat, who had been watching your retreat. He jutted his head once toward you, and Nat replied in kind with a single tilt of her head toward Jake.

They didn’t need to say aloud what they were thinking. They’d talk about what they discovered later, but it wouldn’t stop them from pressing this interesting development further.

When she reached your room, Nat found you already in your robe, sitting at your vanity, brushing your hair. You had already laid out your costumes on your bed earlier in the day, and Nat raced to hers the second she saw it, making grabby hands at the fabric.

"Ahh, it turned out so great, Maeve!" she exclaimed, grabbing the top and holding it up. You glimpsed at her through the reflection of your mirror, smiling when she hugged it to her chest.

“If I had made it any deeper, Nat, you’d be showing off more than just dangly bits.”

She blew a raspberry at you. You giggled, shaking your head.

“You know, I’ve always wanted to do couples costumes. I never thought Bradley would go for it,” she said after a while, standing next to you and straightening her hair in the mirror of your vanity.

“Really?” you asked, concentrating on not poking your eye out with your mascara.

“How else am I going to shoo off all the girls practically clamouring to get with Bradley? It’s a nice way to do it, don’t you think?”

“Maybe. Not every costume as a twin, though,” you said, lowering your hand to gesture to yourself. You hoped Nat would at least acknowledge the effort you’d made or pep you up for a party you'd originally never wanted to hold.

“What about the Danny wandering around the apartment ‘without his Sandy’?”

You dropped your hand from where you had started fixing up your other eye, glaring at her reflection in your mirror. “Really, Nat?”

“What, you don’t dream of a little Summer Lovin?”

You felt your face flush. As if Jake would ever really go for someone like you. “It’s Halloween, Nat.”

“Exactly. It’s Halloween, and it’s getting colder. Maybe you’ve got chills, and maybe they're multiplying.”

You groaned, dropping your head and smacking it against your vanity.

“You’re sure he’s not the one you want?” she bumped you with her hip, grinning.

“Can you stop with the Grease puns? Please,” you squawked.

Nat laughed, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger as she stepped away. "Okay, okay. But if you change your mind, I think Danny Zuko out there wouldn't mind being 'the one that you want.'"

Fingers wrapping around the handle of your hair brush, you didn’t lift your head from the vanity as you chucked it in Nat’s direction. She laughed hard, and you didn’t need to look to know you had missed her completely.

Nat eventually cajoled you into helping her slip into her dress, adjusting bits and pieces of fabric here and there. You sat back down at your vanity as she twirled once in the mirror, declaring she was satisfied. Then her eyes went to the door, and her attention shifted to Bradley and what waited beyond it.

"Are you okay if I go out? Do you need any help?" Nat's voice was laced with excitement, and her eyes gleamed with anticipation of finally having a party as she smoothed down the sides of her dress.

You shook your head, leaning back in your chair. Nat didn’t meet your gaze. "No, I'm good. I only need to touch up my makeup, and my dress is a slip-on," you smiled. "Go make sure Bradley keeps his hat on."

Nat wiggled her shoulders, biting her lip to mute her squealing giggle. The puffy sleeves of her short dress waved with her, and she precariously tip-toed out the door on her high heels. Once in the hallway, she dramatically yelled, "Come and get me, Indiana Jones!"

You stifled a giggle, shaking your head, allowing yourself to turn back to face your mirror.

Staring at yourself, you searched every part of your face, making sure your foundation, blush, eyes, and lips were just how you wanted them to be. You toyed with a strand of curled hair, wondering if what you had done was enough—if all of it had been enough.

Then your eyes came to rest on your costume, so carefully draped across the end of your bed through the reflection in the mirror.

You're not sure why "Flaming June" happened to be your favourite painting, though you supposed it had to do with the girl in the painting so casually draped across that seat next to that fountain. She was curled up almost like a serpent, covered in sheer transparent vibrant orange, the painting's only bright pop of colour.

The painting was supposedly meant to depict nymphs, sleeping Greek nymphs for that matter, or even Victorian society's obsession with beauty. However, you argued differently in the paper you wrote for it.

You cared more about the juxtaposition of fire and tranquillity in the piece than about whatever cultural influence or social construct it had at the time. That one girl was at the centre of the painting, wrapped in sheer, see-through colour. She was meant to be the focus; that much was certain.

Maybe you thought her dress signified the chaos of the world around her, and all she wanted to do was find a moment of peace.

You’d spent countless hours at the fabric store trying to match the correct shade. Once you had completed parts of Nat's, you spent even countless more at your sewing machine, staying up late to make progress on yours.

And each time she asked you to make alternations on hers, the more drastic you made it to be ‘just that much sluttier', the more you thought about what you could do to yours. In the end, the thin straps holding up your dress, revealing bare shoulders and the long slit between your breasts, ending just before your belly button, was all you could stomach.

You held the dress up, contemplating your thoughts. You could do this. You could survive one simple Halloween party - one simple college rager party.

Right?

———

The second the apartment was starting to flood with arriving guests, Jake realized you hadn’t emerged from your room with Nat.

He had been off to the side near a bookcase, talking with Bradley, hoping to stave off the crowd and the rest of the football team for a little longer. He knew they'd want to talk football and strategies for the season, and Jake simply... didn't.

He wanted a night off. He wanted to relax and have a good time. And talking about football wouldn't be it.

Bradley had said something to Jake, but he hadn’t been paying attention. He was too busy searching the gathering pods of people for your face. Why, he didn’t know. But he was eager to find out.

Bradley snapped his fingers in Jake's face, startling him from his search. "Earth to Jake!"

Jake shook his head, focusing back on Bradley. "Sorry, what?"

Bradley raised his eyebrows under the rim of his fedora. "What's going on in that head of yours?"

Jake regarded him for a few seconds before finally looking down at his drink, bringing it to his lips, admitting, "I'm just looking for Maeve."

As Jake took a drink, Bradley grinned. "She's probably still getting ready. Nat said her costume was based on her favourite panting."

Jake didn't even look up from his drink when he asked, "What's her favourite painting?"

"Why? You looking to make a good impression?" he said, still grinning.

"Fuck off, Man," Jake snapped, taking another swig to finish his drink. Bradley only laughed, now shaking his head. He would have let Jake simmer in his ask, but this was you. He had to give Jake at least a decent running chance.

"It's Flaming June, the chick in the orange dress. It's a brilliant costume idea. She made it herself."

Of course, you would have made it yourself, Jake thought.

"Surely you came across that painting with your 'rich upbringing.' Nat was practically force-feeding information down our throats a few seconds ago to ensure we recognized her costume. It’s some Freddie Luigui piece. I don't know."

"I know it," Jake snapped. "I've seen it before."

Jake was pretty sure he had, maybe once at one of his father's fundraising parties, though he actively searched his mind, trying to remember what it looked like.

Bradley remained silent, slouching against the bookcase and crossing one leg over the other. He narrowed his eyes at his friend and tilted his head.

"Why the sudden interest in Maeve? She isn't one for..." Bradley trailed off, searching for the correct word. Just as Jake was about to ask him what he meant, Nat's approaching heels on the hardwood floor stopped them both.

She stopped at Bradley's side, red solo cup in hand, looping her arm through his. "What are you two handsome boys gossiping about over here?" she giggled at her boyfriend, her chin plopping lazily down onto his bicep. "See any snakes in the crowd, Indy?"

Bradley pulled his face back into a grimace, reciting the famous line. "Snakes. Why does it always have to be snakes?"

Jake rolled his eyes at their banter, placing his empty cup on the table between them. Nat giggled, tilting her head back, indicating to Bradley she wanted to be kissed. He complied without protest, leaning down, pressing his lips to hers in an overly dramatic display merely to piss Jake off.

"Get a room," Jake groaned, mocking a wrenching noise. The couple separated, turning to Jake with amused smirks. "You've heard and seen far worse, dude."

Jake shuttered, the unwanted memory of walking in on Nat and Bradley from weeks ago flashing through his mind. Sharing an apartment with Bradley had its moments - some good, some decidedly less so. It made him wonder if Maeve had to put up with the same shit he did.

“Where’s Maeve?” Jake asked Nat, ignoring Bradley's remark. "I haven't seen her yet."

Nat opened her mouth, about to tell him you were still getting ready, when she caught sight of a flash of orange stepping out from behind the corner of the hallway. You came into view, your head angled down, mindful of stepping on your dress as thin streams of transparent fabric trailed behind you at your sides.

Javy let out a low-toned whistle from somewhere in the room, and heads turned, one by one, as you took your final step into the apartment.

“Damn girl, you clean up nice!”

Lifting your head, you were surprised to see eyes on you. Javy glided forward to greet you from where he had been standing at a nearby table, and you smiled at him, though a little weary. Deep down, you knew his comment was meant to be a compliment. But something coarse, like sandpaper, rubbed against your heart at the remark, lingering longer than you would have liked.

“What? Not bad for a fine arts major?” you joked somewhat deprecatively, though your voice held none of it.

Javy held out his hand, and you grabbed it, allowing him to lift it above your head. With a pump of his wrist, he urged you to spin under his arm several times, letting your dress fan out. You giggled as he urged you, though you wobbled on your heels. The dreaded things were Nat's only contribution to your outfit, and you were severely regretting it.

He let you go, thinking you had your footing on the last, slowed spin. But when you came to a stop, you were on the verge of falling over, your head dizzy, and your legs unbalanced.

To his credit, Javy tried to reach out and steady you, already regretting the step he took back. However, before he could, another pair of hands, one on your hip and one taking your hand, steadied you.

Jake’s hands were firm on your skin, pulling you close as you lost your balance. You fell into his chest, head tilted back, half falling over. And looking up at his face, seeing the amused grin on his lip, you drew in a sharp breath at the sight.

"Letting me make a good first impression?" he quipped.

“By catching falling women?” you laughed breathlessly, bringing your free hand to his chest. If you had let your hand stall slightly longer than necessary, you would have never admitted to it.

“Seems noble enough,” he replied, helping you to stand. Though he might have let go of your hand, he didn’t let go of your waist. “Or do you make it a habit to test the reflexes of every guy you meet?”

You couldn’t resist the playful jab. “Only the ones who seem like they can handle it. And the pretty ones.”

Jake's grin widened, and he even risked sneaking a quick peek at your lips, letting them rest there for a few seconds before his eyes roamed the rest of your body.

"Flaming June, right? Frederic Leighton's Masterpiece."

You blinked in surprise, letting out a small gasp. You honestly expected to tell people what your costume was, not just some girl in some random orange dress. Jake's knowledge of the painting, let alone his identification of it so quickly, was scoring him some major brownie points.

"You know your art," you commented nonchalantly.

He shrugged, "I might know a thing or two. I always had a thing for the classics. By the way, it suits you."

You practically preened under his gaze. "Thank you," you said, a shy smile creeping onto your face. He beamed at you in return.

Yes, you might have a crush on him. But for the first time that day, you figured it wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

—-

This was a bad idea - Oh, this party was such a bad idea.

Believing you were having a good time and actually having a good time were two separate things. You certainly felt one of those things. As the night went on, and with each drink you tipped back, alcoholic or not, regret built in your stomach.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting. Maybe you were seeking reasons where there initially were none, allowing Natasha’s suggestions to slowly chip away at your resolve until you finally gave in. Maybe it was the promise of letting loose, to embrace the spirit of Halloween with all its creative potential.

Maybe it was the promise of making new friends. Of getting to know people outside the art department. Natasha had told you to mingle. She wanted you to mingle, and yet... you didn’t know where to start.

You didn't expect Nat or Bradley to coddle you, but they could have introduced you to a few people besides the core group before things had gotten this bad. You didn't dare approach Javy or Rueben, who played beer pong and chugged beers back like it was nobody's business. They were off doing their own thing, and you didn’t want to intrude.

Mickey and Bob had gone home earlier in the night. Bob proclaimed he had a midterm to study for, and Mickey wanted to go home anyway so he could call his family in peace. You strongly suspected he wanted to watch Halloween movies instead.

Rocky Horror sounded like a wonderful idea right about now.

You couldn’t hang around Nat and Bradley all night, either. And nobody from your art classes would even dare set foot inside a party where nearly half of its guests were from the sororities.

You knew that. While you did extend the invitation, you told them you wouldn't blame them if they didn't come. They had looked at you with such disregard you wondered if they were seeing you through newly polished rose-coloured glasses. And standing up against the wall next to your bookcase, like an insipid wallflower, you could hardly blame them for it either.

You couldn’t introduce yourself in a place where you were the outsider, even within the walls of your own home. Soon after the first few attempts, that realization settled deep into your chest. And you couldn’t help but feel like you had done this to yourself - an attempt to be part of something like this, even if just for a night.

But Jake… Jake was still here. At least, he should be. He had been by your side for the beginning of the evening, talking to you about what projects you were currently working on over another drink—not whiskey—after you had started to hiccup while putting up decorations.

After he recognized your dress, you weren’t ashamed to tell him. You had launched into the ideas and thoughts behind two paintings and one sculpture, an old table that you were trying to turn into an elemental-type sundial. You told him about the zodiac signs you had already burned into the wood after sanding it down and how each was placed in its own little section as it related to its element.

You had reached halfway through your thought process when you realized how lost you were in your explanation. You froze mid-sentence, blushing harder than the colour of your dress.

"Sorry," you had said. "I ramble when I get excited about my art.”

But Jake’s interest hadn’t waned. If anything, it urged him to ask, “How did you find something you're so passionate about? Creating things... making art?"

His question had made you pause, though not over what to say but merely how to say it. “It was my voice when words fell short or my escape when the world grew too loud.”

You caught a glimpse of something in Jake’s eyes—a flash of longing, a momentary crack in his confident demeanour. What followed was a slight nod. It was there, and then it wasn’t, as if he’d accidentally revealed more of himself than he wanted. Then he caught himself, suddenly straightened his spine, and continued the conversation as if that brief lapse in judgment never happened in the first place.

Ten minutes later, he excused himself to get another drink. And you hadn’t seen him since.

You scanned the room for him, hoping to spot that black leather jacket among the sea of people. But it was impossible. Under the dim, eerie glow of the lights, each costume blurred into the next, and the crowd swallowed any hope of finding him.

Reaching for whatever mixed drink Nat had made you earlier off the table, you pushed yourself off the wall, weaving through the throngs of people, figuring you might as well try to see if she knew where he had run off to.

Liquid sloshed over the rim of your cup onto your hand as you dodged a zombie here, a fairy there, and music pulsing like a heartbeat through the packed room. Laughter and snippets of conversations swirled around you as you scanned the sea of faces, both masked and not for Nat.

Glasses clinked, a witch cackled, and the scent of spiced pumpkin mingled somewhere in the mix with the tang of alcohol and body sweat. By the time you spotted her leaning heavily against the kitchen Island, red cup in hand and her laughter too loud, eyes slightly unfocused, you knew the night had taken its toll on her sobriety.

She was too preoccupied with telling a bunch of people a story to notice how you quickly launched the contents of your cup into the sink behind her. You extended your arm when you were close enough, looping your arm around her waist. Her arm came up at the same time, sliding across your back to pull you close.

Nat tilted her head back onto her shoulders, glancing at you with happy eyes. "Maeve!" she whined tipsily.

Given how far gone she was, you were surprised at how accurately she pronounced your name. She bent slightly, still holding her red Solo cup in her hand, to hug you tight, her face smooshing into your neck.

“It looks like you’re having the time of your life,” you snorted. She nodded against your skin, biting her lip in a smile with a happy, drunken snigger. She lazily pulled back to meet your eye, and you smiled at her.

“Have you seen Jake around?”

Nat paused, her gaze flickering around the room as if she'd genuinely forgotten about him, though she didn’t lift her head off your body. "Jake? Oh, I haven't seen him in a bit,” she slurred slightly. “Why? Do you two likeeeeeeeeeeeeeee each other? Is Jake going to make you scream grease lightin’?”

You reached for her red Solo cup and pried it from her hand. “Okay, yup, you're cut off.”

“Nooo,” she pouted her arm a dead weight as she tried to take it back. Her hand hit the bottom of the cup, and liquid shot up, once again covering your hand in whatever type of alcohol Nat managed to mix together. You could only sigh.

“Here comes the fun police,” she muttered under her breath. “I thought you’d be off doing your own thing.”

Well, that fucking stung just a tiny bit.

“I’m not going to be the one who cleans up your vomit tomorrow morning, Nat.”

“I’ve only had,” she held up her hand, widening her thumb and pointer finger probably further apart than she thought, “this much to drink.”

“Ahm...”

Luckily for you, Bradley appeared, having seen what was going on. He looked amused yet concerned as he slid between the gap of the island and Nat to observe his girlfriend babbling nonsense on your shoulder. “What’s happening here?”

Nat made another grab for her cup, but Bradley gently intercepted her, taking her hand into his before she could even grasp it.

“That,” you offered.

“I think it’s time we get you to bed, love,” he suggested, wrapping an arm around her waist. You let him take her, happy for him to bear her weight.

Nat leaned into him, mumbling something incoherent, a mix of protest and agreement. Bradley spared a glance at you, silently thanking you in your unspoken agreement. You nodded, watching as he sandwiched her to his side and carried her off towards her room.

It always seemed like one of you was always taking care of her. At one point or another.

After getting rid of Nat’s cup, you felt the sticky residue of both of your spilled drinks on your skin and felt the urge to run to the privacy of the bathroom to wash it off. Stumbling down the hallway, blusters on your feet finally making themselves known, you let your hands casually slide along the wall. The music from the party faded into a muffled, dull noise as you walked.

You wanted to smile at the lights. The red eerie glow along the top corners of the ceiling only reached not even halfway down the wall, plunging the floor into a dark abyss. You clumsily stuttered through it, unable to see anything below your waist.

It was exactly as you pictured it, and yet you couldn't bring yourself to manage the slightest grin.

The bathroom door was down at the end of the hall slightly ajar, with the red LED light illuminating its edges from behind. You zoned in on it like a wobbly arrow to a target, tired and completely done with tonight and everything about it.

You reached for the curved handle, about to push the door open, when a high-pitched giggle came from behind the piece of wood. You shot your hand back like you had been burned, and with a quick turn of your heel, you plastered your back up against the wall.

You immediately knew what was happening behind that door, and it made you throw up in your mouth just a little.

Ugh, I’m going to have to disinfect the hell out of that bathroom tomorrow.

The next voice you heard, however, made your heart drop into your stomach.

“You like that, don’t ya, sweetheart?”

You didn't want to believe it, but you had to see for yourself. Leaning forward off the wall, you peered through the crack in the door, only to spot a black leather jacket taking up most of your view—the same black jacket you had complimented Jake on earlier that day. It was a stark contrast to the red glowing light above him, and something snapped in your heart and recoiled back as one slender bare leg in beige fishnet stockings wrapped around his.

There was an overly drunken and seductive 'ahm,' forcing you to glance over his shoulder at the girl he was with—her costume was a bejewelled Taylor Swift outfit to match her long blonde hair.

You swallowed your bile and adverted your gaze, pressing yourself back up against that wall, out of sight and hidden completely from view.

You knew this was a possibility; Jake was merely looking for a hookup and nothing more. You had considered it all afternoon. Yet, you couldn’t help but feel utterly hurt at the sight.

"I mean, Nat's pretty clever befriending that girl.. what was her name, Maeve?" the girl snickered.

"I know. It sounds like something out of those weird fantasy books everyone loves." A whimper from his companion followed Jake's breathy and muffled laugh.

At the dig, your hand went to your chest, your heart thudding painfully under your palm. The realization they had been talking about you, about Nat, made tears flood your eyes.

You didn't understand it. Or maybe you did, and you were too blinded by the possibility of someone like him, someone like Nat, Bradley, Bob, Mickey, and Rueben, to beat the fucking pyramid scheme and care about someone like you.

What other explanation was there except the fact you had been blinded by those who proved to be the exception? Blinded by the fucking elementary school crush cause he had flirted, smiled, joked, and maybe even showed some half-decent interest in you. Clearly, the second he figured out you weren’t going to hook up with him, he sought his sights on someone else.

Jake wasn’t trying to mould into the stereotype. He was the fucking stereotype.

"Even her costume," she sneered. "Like, who the fuck dresses up like that for a college rager Halloween party? You're supposed to dress up slutty."

You couldn't speak, staring down the front of your dress to what you had thought had been a risky enough slit. You couldn't even breathe.

"You kidding me?" he laughed lowly. "Bradley was practically screaming at us what she dressed up as. I'd have no fucking clue what she was otherwise. I'd guess some random Greek Godness obsessed with that awful shade of orange."

Your hand slid up from your chest, around your throat to feel your harsh, rough swallow. Only it didn’t stop there, suddenly finding yourself wrapping it around your entire mouth, stifling any noise wanting to escape. Through shaky inhales in and out of your nose, you fought hard to stop yourself from crying over this.

Over him. Over a fucking jock who would say anything to hook up with a girl. Only to get his dick wet.

But you couldn't prevent the tears from welling up in your eyes, or from one finally spilling over, dropping down your cheek only to stall there, or how the hand covering your mouth curled up around your cheekbone, only to stroke away the tear.

You refused to look back at the door through the crack, so you fixed your gaze on the darkness consuming the ground. And as you lowered your hand, you caught the ugly black smear marring your skin.

How could you not? Standing in the glow of that red hallway light, it was the only thing you could see.

The artistic irony hits you like a freight train. Here you were, dressed as the girl in your favourite painting. Her dress had been the only bright shade of colour in the entire painting, and you, standing in the top half glow of bright red LED lights, had failed to notice what had been staring you in the face all along.

Orange was muted by red, and black bled through all. The only thing about you that stood out the entire evening was this tiny black mark scarring the back of your hand—black tears from smeared mascara.

"I would have guessed an orange," the girl snickered, quickly followed by a mewl. "Though she practically blended into the wall, I couldn't see her with the lights."

Lips plucking on skin echoed off the title and out the door, and Jake drew in a ragged breath as he agreed. "She did blend right into the fucking wall, didn’t she?"

Your eyes burned. The girl giggled.

“How long do you think this one will stay? She seems… different, to say the least.”

Jake sniggered. “Seriously, you think Natasha Trace is hanging around that girl out of the goodness of her heart?”

His laugh was so full of malice that it was nothing like the ones you had heard pleasantly filling your ears earlier.

“Everyone knows after what Nat did, she needs an image clean up. Playing the saint, befriending the weird loner art girl, giving her the best friend badge?”

“If she thinks she’s got a place in the big leagues, she’s in for a rude awakening,” the girl murmured. “Pathetic. People like her don’t belong with people like us.”

There was a pause. “It’s just like Natasha, though. She always needs an audience, something to validate her feelings. It’s brillant really.”

Jake's agreement was a silent blow, his next words the dagger. "Nat's smart. She knows how to play the game. Maeve's just...convenient."

Convenience. The word echoed in your mind, bouncing off the walls of your already crumbling self-worth.

“Give it a year. Trace is going to drop her the second the next new shiny person comes along. And everyone is going to forget about the little art girl she used up and discarded. Or she’ll become the most hated girl on campus.”

Without your back up against the wall, his words might have made you crumble into that dark abyss.

“Can we stop talking about her now?” the girl whined. “I thought you promised to get me off.”

Jake chuckled lowly, the sound morphing into a low, predatory growl. “You brought her up, sweetheart. But don’t worry—I’m all yours now.”

You pushed yourself away from that wall, stumbling down the dark hallway to your bedroom out of instinct, refusing to subject yourself to any further torture. But just before your door, you fell into the wall, your shoulder throbbing as you slouched against it.

The world around you swirled, leaving you consumed by one thought—and one thought alone.

That. Fucking. Asshole! How dare he! How fucking dare he!

To hear Natasha be demeaned, your friendship demeaned and used as a stepping stone in pursuit of a meaningless hookup... anger boiled under your skin. You didn’t care what he or what they had said about you, but Nat?

If Jake thought he’d succeed in sweet-talking you, to play you like a puppet on a string, just as he assumed Nat had been doing, he had another thing coming. If he was going to talk shit about your friendship with her, you’d show him just how spineless you could be.

Oh, he’d wish he’d never caught you off that fucking ladder. Wished he had never met you and flirted with you, obviously a ploy to find someone to hook up with. You gagged at ever having a crush on him in the first place.

But as you leaned against the wall, trying to steady your swirling thoughts, doubt wormed its way into your mind.

What if he was right?

What if your friendship with Nat was just a convenience, a way for her to maintain her status or recover from her sorority fallout? You knew nothing of it, nothing more than what she told you. There could be more to the story, things she hadn’t revealed, things nobody else had either.

No, you shook your head, trying to dismiss the thought. Nat had been there for you in ways no one else had.

Jake was just an asshole. Plain and simple.

But then another thought sucker punched you in the gut.

You couldn’t tell anyone else what he said. You wouldn’t be responsible for causing that type of drama within a friend circle, one that long before you ever showed up. They never would have believed you anyway, and Nat… she worked so hard to get out, escape the rumours and gossip, to put it behind her. She didn’t need to know about this.

You had no choice but to carry this burden alone. It was a lonely decision, but perhaps loneliness was a small price to pay for the semblance of harmony among friends—or so you tried to convince yourself.

But Jake. You could no longer give a rat’s ass about Jake. If he wanted to attack Nat, then fine. You hit him right back. That much you could still do.

Whatever had possessed Frederic Leighton to name the piece you currently embodied, “Flaming June,” whatever possessed him to gift that girl with fire in her name, that fire was suddenly born in you.

A flame that sparked and kerosened your soul to burn, hot and bright. It was a wildfire that rushed under layers of skin and ignited every nerve, ending with a ferocity you never knew you possessed. It was born to protect what you had found - Nat, Bradley, Bob, Mickey, Javy and Rueben. And that fucking asshole would never be allowed to put you down, Nat down, like your family did, ever again.

Pushing yourself off the wall, you stepped into your bedroom. Slamming the door, the lock clicked hard into place.

It never opened the rest of the night.

NOW YOU KNOW....

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penvisions · 9 months

Text

of beskar and kyber {chapter 2}

Pairing: Din Djarin x Force Sensitive! Reader (the Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader)

Summary: You come to realize that as much as you want your freedom, your new captor is someone you are afraid to run from.

Word Count: 7.1K

Warnings: mentions of narcotics, reader was drugged previously, withdrawal, insinuation of past SA, insinuation of sexual favors, mentions of past torture (not detailed), mentions of past trauma (not detailed)

A/N: this chapter is brought early to you by the various albums of tool, copious amounts of coffee, and the buzzing of excitement to get this out to y’all. it’s a very intimate glimpse into reader’s internal monologue and i sincerely hope y’all enjoy this. it was very very fun to write and put down in concrete scenes ♡

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist

The sounds of heavy breathing were harsh in the quiet expanse of the desert. The sun beating down suffocating rays that made sweat build up along your hairline and on the skin underneath your lightweight tunic. The fabric was old and frayed, from what you were beginning to think was a few years since you had donned it for travel. It was larger on you than it had once been, the weight you had lost during your captivity obvious. You ran the last few yards between where you had been trying to keep up and the figure that had just been rushing at a fast pace but now lay motionless.

You slid to a stop on your knees beside the fallen form of the Mandalorian on the rocky terrain that made up the desert planet. His body having landed on a heightened outcropping of softer gravel that was the base of a jutting rock formation.

The drugs were still waning from your system but not enough for them to have tricked you into seeing the absolute absurdity that was the unconscious man laid out before you giving chase to the Jawas as they fled the scavenged mess of his ship. After they had sought refuge on their giant crawling fortress and began to flee the scene in haste.

For someone who came across as so put together and focused while on a hunt, he had run off after the small beings with no thought. Granted, you’d be pretty upset too if you had traveled so far for work only to come back to your ship, your home, being scavenged beyond use. But it had been rather comical to witness a lone figure chased after such a large structure that was speeding away into the desert, until he had gotten injured. Until you realized what it meant.

Electric shocks sparked over him in disjointed waves as his armor whined at a low timbre. The wiring charred because of getting electrically shocked by so many guns at once thanks to the Jawas. They were small creatures and the electroshock weapons they carried allowed them to gain an even hand in the cutthroat world of scavenging and trading. He wasn’t making any noise himself, but you could hear the modulator picking up his faint breathing and displaying it for you. You glanced toward the horizon, seeing the crawling fortress that carried your way off this planet with it disappea from view.

Your hands were still contained in the binders fastened around your wrists, the mechanics of them too strong for you to break. But you weren’t too confident you’d be able to get out of them if you were at full strength, even with the Force. You had a feeling they would send shocks themselves, if tampered with beyond general jostling. With bated breath you hovered your open palms over the helmet, trying to get a sense of what to do, your skin felt the coolness of the metal despite it being in the sun as long as you have been.

Gaze wandering over the man’s form, you took in how broad he was, how solid. His armor surely lent him more than protection, the plates strapped carefully to his body allowing him to appear bigger than he was. But as you took in the width of his shoulders, the stockiness of his legs, you were beginning to think he was a wall of a man even beneath the armor. You felt your face flush as your thoughts wondered about him, unsure where the fascination was coming from. He was just another captor of yours, granted he had been contracted. Maybe that was why.

Because he was a professional, seen as someone of high value and skill in his field. Someone you knew your dearest mother would’ve requested to receive your tracking fob to ensure your return to her.

You wondered what the final trigger was, for her to reach out to the Guild. If you took the Mandalorian’s words as fact, which you felt like you could, then you had been ‘missing’ for five years. Out of those five years, your memory of time was warped. Your entire sense of what had happened and when was jumbled up and would take you serious time to try and decipher.

You recalled overhearing talk of an arrangement for you to be relocated, both you and your mother, to someplace that could offer more complete protection. To someone who could provide you with a life that was still caged and corralled but in a way that would seem like you weren’t. You had heard the term ‘betrothed’ that despite an addled state had triggered the sense to run and immediately began planning a way to escape in earnest. You wouldn’t be sold for some man’s amusement and posterity. To be a boasting point of someone’s accomplishments that were only brought on by money and status.

Memories of landing on Tatooine, of finding affordable supplies and as updated a map as possible flooded your mind’s eye. You had purchased everything needed to set up a small moisture farm for yourself, in order to live off of and provide for yourself in such a desolate place. You hadn’t been too keen on settling in the desert, preferring the rich shrubbery and canopy of leaves forests provided. The deep greens of plant life and the scent of rain in the air when storms approached on the horizon, but you had decided it would be too predictable. Too easy to track you down to a planet that appealed to you. With a sigh you reigned in your thoughts.

You looked over to the small green face of your other companion peeking out from his pod, worry in his large eyes and the droop of his adorable ears. You sucked in a breath before chancing digging your fingers into the material of the Mandalorian’s cloak that created a wrapped cowl around his neck to find a pulse. His skin was warm underneath your fingers, the softness of the man beneath the armor a little dizzying. His pulse was weak, but it was there, you removed your hands and marveled at the sensation his skin left on yours as you settled down beside to wait for him to rouse.

Shivers moved your body as chills traced heavily over your skin, withdrawal hitting you full force after not having anything forcefully injected into your veins in over twenty-four hours. The hinge of your jaw was sore from the force you were clenching it shut with, the pain reverberating from the crown of your head too much to handle. You don’t know what type of sedative they had kept you on but now that it was wearing off after however many consecutive days of it, your body was beginning to struggle without it.

You don’t know how long you sat beside him, it must’ve been a few hours at least judging by the movement of the sun from overhead to well into its descent of the day. You kept checking his pulse, which had gradually grown in strength.

Relief flooded you when you noticed the change from his breathing being labored to even once again. Bound hands hovered over the rip in his sleeve from being cut, and you focused your concentration on the injury he had closed up hastily the night before. After a few moments the jagged, irritated skin smoothed out and it was as if he had never been injured to begin with.

You checked his pulse again, worried your healing would have spiked it and were about to remove your hand from within the fabric around his neck when one of his own shot out and gripped it crushingly tight. The Mandalorian jolted up from his laid out position, a string of grunts sounding through his modulator. His legs opened wide to help stabilize himself and he turned his helmet to face you.

His breathing was a little on the heavy side as he took in your form, your face a twinge red from being in the sun all day. Some of the flush from a fever you were sure that was beginning to take over your immune system. He took in the floating pod behind you, still occupied by his other quarry. Your hand twitched in his hold and he looked down to where he had it in a tight grip, his gloves encompassing the entirety of it. The creak of your bones beneath his grip had him dropping your hand and turning to face the trail left in the wake of the traveling fortress.

“How long was I out?”

You were slightly taken aback by his question, unsure if he was really initiating conversation with you. You rubbed at your aching hand, his phantom grip still on your skin.

An answer quietly followed, not wanting to enrage the man who had willingly run after the remnants of his ship in such a haste. Because despite how absurd it had been, it told you a lot about him. How he was willing to give chase, to hunt in the very depths of his core. He was devoted to it. It was who he was, it made him a challenge you had to acknowledge you couldn’t overcome lest you try to run yourself.

And while that terrified you, it also made you feel a swirl of emotions that you couldn’t name. You had spent nearly your entire life on the run, in hiding, keeping to yourself and keeping a low profile. But now that he had your tracking fob, now that he knew about the price on your head and taken on the responsibility of your capture, you doubted he would ever stop his pursuit. He took things personally, a way to prove himself. And while you prided yourself on your ability to hide, you knew he would find you because he was devoted to the chase. It would fuel him should you give in to your baser instincts and attempt freedom.

Even if you could get to your hideaway home here on planet, it wouldn’t matter a dank ferrick thing. Off world was the only option. But it was too bold of one without any bearings.

“A few hours, jatne vod.”

“You were touching me.” He moved to sit up straighter, stretching the muscles in his back with the motion. He stood from there, leaning down to reach for the tops of his boots with a deep breath. He stood at his full height and began to walk back in the direction of his ship. You fell into step behind him, the Child’s pod floating beside him. “Don’t do it again.”

“Apologies, jatne vod. I caught up just in time to see them all fire on you at once. That and the fall from the ship worried me.”

“Worried. Worried you would end up trapped out here with no way off world.” His tone was flat, stating rather than questioning. You both knew he was correct in his assumption of why you hadn’t run off. Why you had stuck by his side as he had laid unconscious. You didn’t say anything, there wasn’t anything to say. He was reading you as if you were projecting everything plainly for him. If he noticed the way you were literally shaking as if cold despite the sweltering heat, he didn’t comment on it.

“I healed that nasty cut you had on your arm, and I didn’t have to touch you to do it.”

You weren’t sure why you felt the need to tell him, he may not have even felt the injury any longer, but you recalled the way he had breathed so heavily when he had discovered it. The rough tissue from the fast cauterization of it had bothered you, the idea of a scar marring his skin had bothered you and weren’t sure why the thought had upset you enough to prompt you into healing him. No response was given but the helmet was aimed at you. The darkness of his visor captivated you, rooting you in your spot. You tore your gaze away, unable to take the direct attention.

You weren’t sure your chills were solely from withdrawal having caught a glimpse of him in action…

His ship was…for the most part just a frame. The basic structure of the ship was intact, but everything that could be pried from the frame had been taken. The area around where he had landed was littered with parts the Jawa’s had left behind in their haste to flee the scene. It was an older ship, surely the parts were valuable for them to have taken nearly everything they could from it. You remained quiet as you approached it for the second time that day, behind your captor and fellow captive. Sparks intermittently lit up the interior of the ship, the gaping holes in the hull and siding allowed for you to see as well as hear them in the quiet of the desert.

Sounds of things slamming and an attempt to start the engines had you walking towards what was left of the ship. You hesitantly stepped up the ramp and into what was once the hold space. Wires hung from everywhere, the source of the sparks that still flew every so often as power found no way to transfer and run the various mechanics. You looked around and took in the bare bones of what was once a pretty ship. You spied the Mandalorian seated just inside a small doorway that led to what had to be his sleeping quarters. His shoulders were slumped, his helmet hanging low as the man gathered his thoughts.

A small hand touched the back of your ankle and your head snapped down to see the Child had climbed out of his pod and followed you both up the ramp. His touch hadn’t elicited the same nauseating and painful effect as it had done at first. Which allowed you to conclude that he had been trying to show you that he remembered you, from long ago and that he was trying to connect with you when reunited. He had used the Force to try and push his thoughts into your mind, though he was clumsy with it and had flooded his own emotions of a time past into you along with them.

You leaned down to help him scramble over a large chunk of the hold space wall that was dented and on the floor with a gentle hand on his back. He stopped in front of the Mandalorian just as a deep sigh fell from the man’s helmet, the Child babbling up at him as if in response.

Words didn’t leave your lips, knowing what it was like to have the place you called home and returned to at the end of the day decimated. Both in the literal and metaphorical sense. When you had first returned to your home planet of K’ath, you had faced the same desolation he was most likely experiencing. Your home had been destroyed and for a fleeting moment you thought you had taken too long to return from training and that your mother had fallen victim to the obvious attack aimed at you. Turned out she had relocated with the help of some kind people that helped her to raise you, to a smaller and more secluded part of the inland area.

Without a word, the Mandalorian reached down to pick up the Child and held him to his chest as he walked past you and back down the ramp. You watched as he carefully placed the small figure securely into his pod, making sure that the blanket in there was flat for him to sit atop it. You felt something flutter in your chest at the sight and tears sprung up in your eyes at the softness. You weren’t sure if it was because you missed when the touch of your mother had been soft toward you or if you were moved at seeing such a formidable man taking the time to ensure the comfort of such a small being. Emotions confusing you more than you already were at the way things were unfolding, you turned around quickly so they wouldn’t be seen by your captor.

“Move it.” And with that you followed them both back into the expanse of the desert, wiping the cuffs of your tunic underneath your eyes.

It was nightfall the next day when you stopped walking, the journey long and tiring on an empty stomach and no water. A complaint didn’t leave you, not one to bring up the impossibilities of your captor sharing however he was keeping himself nourished. His suit must’ve held some sort of food or drink because every so often you would see his hand reach up to the bottom of his helmet. The previous night when he had stopped for a few hours, he seemed to have been taking sips from a small pouch you hadn’t seen before.

There was a smattering of structures up ahead, surely the destination he was seeking out. There were lights on in the alcove over the entrance to a typical structure most lived in on desert planets. Equipment to farm moisture from the air. There was a beacon of some sort that jutted out tall on the landscape, a figure tinkering away at the top of it. As you approached, the figure spoke.

“I thought you were dead.”

The shuffling sound of the Child fidgeting in the pod urged you to reach down for him. The hard gaze of the Mandalorian weighing on your back as you did so. You carefully lifted him underneath his armpits, the rough fabric of his clothing against your fingers as you lowered him to the ground where he immediately began to play with a small frog-like creature that had been minding its own business. It was a rather endearing sight, the small coos falling from him prompting a soft smile to grace your features.

“This is what was causing all the fuss?” The figure that you could decipher now, that of an older Ugnaught, climbed down and stood beside the Child, watching as you and the Mandalorian did.

“I think it’s a child.” The Mandalorian glanced over at the Child as he played with the frog-like creature, chasing it around the open area with small steps and gurgles. The man was standing with a foot atop something as he leaned over his knee slightly and messed with the cuff on his left arm that was emitted an even electronic glow up and down the entirety of it. You suspected his back was hurting him and he was subtly trying to stretch it out. That fall from the Jawas fortress must’ve hurt, as he had landed directly on his back onto the rocky ground.

“It is better to deliver it alive then. And who might you be?”

You just shook your head and bowed your gaze as the Ugnaught approached you. You were sitting down beside the pod, not sure where the Mandalorian preferred you but positive he would be unhappy if you weren’t within his range of immediate sight.

“Another quarry, to be taken back alive. Directly to the person who contracted the Guild.”

You didn’t look up as he walked away from you, going about his business.

“My ship has been destroyed. I’m trapped here.”

“Stripped. Not destroyed.” The Ugnaught corrected evenly as he piddled around his workspace before going to stand beside the armored man. A tool was handed over. “The Jawas steal. They do not destroy.”

“Stolen or destroyed, makes no difference to me.”

You scoffed lightly at the nearly petulant tone of the Mandalorian’s voice. At the movement of his helmet toward you, you huffed and tried to cover it with a cough. Though it wasn’t much of a performance as the noise deep in your dry throat had been too much stress. Your fake cough quickly delved into a fit of very real coughing. You waved off the Child as he approached you with drooping ears and wide eyes, plaything momentarily forgotten. The Ugnaught set down a pouch beside your feet, silently offering you what was inside it. You gingerly took the pouch, not drinking from it yet as you tried to wait for what he wanted in exchange for it.

“That is yours to keep, you must stay hydrated here on Arvala-7, it’s an unforgiving planet.”

You sputtered around the sip you had taken, trying to hold what little of your dignity you had left and not spit out the precious water in your shock. Surely you were just exhausted and your body strung out, mishearing what the man had to say. The sip you took glistened on your bottom lip as you stared from him to the Mandalorian just beyond him, both of them watching you as you struggled to swallow the water in your mouth like a fool.

“Wait, we… we aren’t on Tatooine?”

“No.” Such a simple word, a simple statement, but it tilted the axis on which you stood. Altering the very understanding of what was going on that you had just begun to grasp at over the last few days. You were standing quickly, mind moving a mile a minute as it tried to process the new information.

“….what- what planet are we on?”

“Arvala-7.”

“Oh.” You felt dizzy, vertigo rocking your entire body and making your knees buckle to try and right it back on track. Your knees hit the ground hard, and your palms followed as you tried and failed to catch yourself. A panic settled over you, you weren’t even aware of what kriffing planet you were on. Shame bubbled up and settled hard in your throat, making it hard to catch a breath. Gasping in breaths only made the vertigo worse and you felt yourself crumble completely on the ground, your vision spinning and your senses not comprehending anything.

“They- they drugged me and moved me across the fucking galaxy and I had no idea.” You muttered, face pressed into the cool sand of the ground now that the sun had set completely. You felt the heavy gaze of your captor but it was too calming a sensation to relinquish the way you laid on the ground, the coolness of it on your heated face. Shame flared up again, stronger this time and making your entire body warm, overwhelming you. “I-I don’t…no. No.”

You pushed yourself up roughly, standing on shaking legs and walked away from the two men and the Child. You were vaguely aware that the Mandalorian made to follow after you, but soft words from the Ugnaught stopped the man in his tracks. You staggered around the main part of his small abode, away from the sounds of their voices, needing a second to gather your swirling thoughts. You leaned back against the side of the building and let your body slink down it to settle on the ground. Bringing your knees up to your chest you crossed your arms atop them and laid your head down, face hidden.

“Give her a moment. She’s been through a lot if the stories about the compound are true. There’s nowhere for her to run.”

“Running isn’t the problem. She might kill herself.”

“She won’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I have spoken.”

“The Jawas are protected by the crawling fortress.” He went back to repairing his cuff, the Child’s sounds picking back up as he resumed playing. “There’s no way to recover the parts.”

“You can trade.”

“With Jawas. Are you out of your mind?” Incredibility genuine in the man’s modulated voice carried in the air over the building and you spared a curious thought mid mental breakdown as to what exactly his problem with the small species was.

“I will take you to them. I have spoken.”

“Hey! Spit that out.”

His raised voice made you jump, even though it wasn’t aimed at you and he couldn’t even see you.

Between a literal child and…the mystery of who you were beginning to get on his nerves. Each fob was a job but the two that had activated upon landing. He took each job seriously, wanting to devote all that he had to them individually, but he didn’t have that luxury this time around. Both of you needing transport within sensitive time frames a little too much to be easy with how much trouble was occurring since securing you both. Things happening in too quick a concession for him to come up with a solid plan, especially in the wake of losing his ship.

You traveled through the night, a storm breaking and rain poured down upon your little group as you crossed the terrain. You, the floating pod, and the Mandalorian were settled on the transport that was being pulled along behind the blurrg that the Ugnaught was guiding. The blinding lightning and the subsequent boom of thunder had you curled into yourself, but you disguised your discomfort with the storm as trying to shield yourself from as much of the rainfall as possible.

It was well into the following day when you spied the structure of the crawling fortress that the Jawas called home. The Ugnaught directed the blurrg closer to the stationary structure. It appeared to be that they had stopped in order to access their recent scavenges. Small sunshades were propped up and items were strewn all around them, their figures milling about and taking stock of what they had. A wave of sound flowed through the air to your approaching group as they spotted you in the distance.

The Mandalorian removed the rifle from his back and held it at the ready. Wariness at seeing the Jawas again evident in the tension that you could feel coming off of him in waves. The Ugnaught held up a hand and shouted out a greeting to them from atop the blurrg as you cleared the remaining distance and came to a stop within the shade of their giant structure.

They raised their own weapons, ushering more of their people to make almost a blockade to protect their wares.

“They really don’t like you for some reason.”

“Well, I did disintegrate a few of them.”

“You need to drop your rifle.”

“I’m a Mandalorian. Weapons are a part of my religion.”

“Then you are not getting your parts back.”

A deep sigh left him as he weighed his options. You watched as he ushered a tight ‘fine’ and placed his rifle beside his feet, close to you directly on the transport. He stood from his seat and stood on the ground, a small motion of his hand directing you to follow suit. You stood and stepped down off the transport to stand just behind him, a few feet of space between you.

“And the blaster.”

You watched as the armored man clenched his fists, aggravation obvious. The Ugnaught approached the Jawas, speaking in their native tongue as he did so.

You turned back around at a soft cooing sound and helped the Child down from his pod once again with careful hands. You placed him on the transport, hoping he wouldn’t try to hop off, he seemed content to stand there and watch the flurry of motion. The Mandalorian was suddenly in your space and causing goosebumps to sprout along your arms as he leaned so far into your space that your arms nearly brushed as he tossed his blaster onto the transport.

All three of you settled into a seated semi-circle, Jawas mirroring you a few feet away to create a full one.

“They will trade all the parts for the beskar.”

“I’m not going to trade anything. These are my parts. They stole them from me.” He pointed a gloved finder at them, his tone hard as he spoke. You remained still, back straight as the armored man leaned back on one hand slightly, one of his knees bent up to rest his pointing hand on. He was close, too close and your nerves felt like they were on fire as you silently watched on. Instincts urging you to put distance between you.

He attempted to speak to them in their native tongue, his words clumsily fumbling from his modulator. It was an odd thing to hear, his low voice sounding unsure as he spoke. Shrill laughter sounded from all around as the Jawas poked fun at his lack of ability in their language. That only angered him further and he flung out the arm he had been leaning on and flames erupted from his cuff. You startled, drawing the attention of the Jawas even as they scrambled about in panic.

The Ugnaught reigned in the commotion quickly, asking what else they were willing to trade. When the main one talking with you pointed past the three of you and toward the transport you felt the need to move. Before you could blink, you were waving away two Jawas that had approached the Child, the Mandalorian shouting at them to get away from his as well. The prickle of their eyes focused on your figure set you on edge.

More words were exchanged before the Jawas surrounded you in a rush of swirling black cloaks and glowing eyes. Your anxiety sparked as you felt small hands begin to reach out for you, but you didn’t move. You stood perfectly still despite the flurry of movement around you, continuing to shield the Child from them, the feeling of small hands patting at places on your body over your tunic.

You had the fleeting thought of using the Force to push them all away from you at once and make a run for it, but the glint of beskar out of the corner of your eye held you still. You were sure if you were in better health you would attempt to despite your earlier musings. But the truth of the matter was that you were stranded here just as he was without his ship. The desert was unforgiving to those who had no supplies. You knew from experience…

The Ugnaught was quick to respectfully usher them away with sharp words, oblivious to the loop of revelations running in your mind.

“What are they saying? She has nothing on her.”

“It’s not about what she has, it’s about what she is. They claim to have heard of the favors she’s done at the compound and want the same. In exchange for the parts you need.”

“They weren’t favors, I gained nothing from what those guards did to me.”

Seething aggravation dripped from the words you spat out without thinking. Your lips curling back in an ugly grimace as you did so, catching the two men still seated off guard. You hadn’t shown such emotion in front of either of them, only a glimpse of it as you had asked the Mandalorian to kill you just a few days before. But that had been desperation, not the white-hot fury that you carried with you for those that had kept you captive and tortured you.

It fell silent. Tension pulling your muscles taught as you prepared for this new captor to turn you over in order to get back what was rightfully his, what was stolen from him. You schooled your face into a mask, not willing to let them see the way you felt about it, about being used and traded as if you were credit, as if you were nothing, despite your outburst.

The Jawas watched you intently, their glowing eyes raking over your body. You remained in your spot between the Jawas and the transport. There was a hush of movement before you felt hands grasp your shoulders, the Mandalorian having stood and crossed the small space in a few strides. His touch shocked you, not having expected him to do such a thing, especially after his strict orders of no contact.

“She is not for trade.”

“They claim they do not want to keep her.”

“That’s even worse.” Large hands guided you back the few steps toward the transport. He held a hand resting steadily on the backs of your shoulders to help you to step up onto it and waited until you were settled by the Kid’s pod before leaning down to speak to you in a low tone that couldn’t be picked up by anyone else. The modulator masking any emotion in his low tone.

“I will not trade you for parts, you are not mine to do so with.”

You pressed your lips into a firm line, resisting speaking lest it be the wrong move. Of putting yourself in a situation that wasn’t playing out. If he were to trade you for parts, you’d have a better chance at besting the tribe of Jawas. But the issue of travel once again was the one thing tripping up your freedom. The helmet’s visor tilted slightly as he watched you for a moment, reading the things your face and posture were giving away despite you trying to reign them in. You didn’t like that while seated on the transport and him standing beside it put you at an even eyelevel.

“You have something to say.” You just nodded your head once, still hesitant to speak, he had been so harsh all those days ago, continued to be so, and you didn’t want to see what he would do if you disobeyed. You had been quiet since he had raised his voice at you, only speaking when he spoke to you as you quickly figured out how to best interact with him. “You may do so.”

“My saber, they would trade you anything you wanted for the saber. It’s highly valuable.” You nodded to where it was fastened to his utility belt, the metal of the handle glinting in the sun as it decorated his frame, nestled in with the rest his belongings.

“Beskar and kyber are not to be traded to those it does not belong to. If it is anything like beskar is to us Mandalorians, I will protect it as if it were my own until we are to part. It remains with those who value and respect it.”

The visor of his helmet was no longer trained on your face and his back was to you as he walked back to where the Ugnaught was speaking with the Jawas. You just watched, shocked at both his actions and his words.

You were silent as a trade was established and your group was ushered into the crawling fortress. The cramped spaces designed for the smaller forms of the Jawas had you leaning low as you settled into a seat while it spurred into movement.

“You run, and I will give chase. Do not forget that.” The Mandalorian’s warning chilled you as you knew all too well that he was speaking the truth. You stood beside the pod ramrod straight, not wanting any movement to make him suspect you were foolish enough to give in to your instincts. You nodded once to signal that you understood him, that you would remain out here and wait for his return. “Do not interfere, I need the credits and you are to be returned unarmed.”

All was quiet as his figure disappeared into the cave you had approached after leaving the crawling fortress, the reflection of the light on his helmet dimming until the entrance was pitch black once again.

You don’t know how much time passed but it could’ve have been long, before the faint sounds of blaster fire decorated the air. The body of the Mandalorian came flying out of the cave suddenly with a shout. You watched as he landed with a sickening thud into the thick mud that had resulted from last night’s storm. Some of it splattered up from the force of his landing.

You fought against the urge to run toward him to see if he was okay when a loud roar echoed through the air from the entrance of the cave. You saw the damaged plate of his chest armor bent and nearly falling from his downed frame. The sound hit you deep in your bones, it settled heavily into your stomach and froze in your spot. You reached for the saber that wasn’t attached to the waist of your tunic and you felt utterly exposed.

You could only watch as a large shape emerged from the cave. As the sunlight settled over it, a rather large mudhorn was revealed to be the culprit. Beside you, the Child cowered in his pod, ears drooping low as he tried to shy as far into the interior of the pod as possible while still being able to peer over the lip of it. You reached out a hand to rest atop it, prepared to throw it away should you need to.

The scene unfolded before you, the fight the Mandalorian tried to put up against the angered beast. But he was at a disadvantage, the creature far larger and far stronger than he was. His rifle jammed, allowing the mudhorn to charge him and fling him into the air once again with a hard hit of its ivory. The rifle flew from the man’s grip, splattering into the mud in much the same fashion as he did. The creature set its sight on you and the pod, altering its charge.

You scrambled to put more distance between you and scaled the outcropping of rock behind you while the Mandalorian hit the panel on his cuff and directed the pod to fly away out of the direct line of the creature. Its horn connected hard with the rock formation you were clinging to, the force of it jolting as you tried to keep your hold.

Deeming you too high a target, the creature turned on its heel and set its eyes back on the downed Mandalorian. You watched from your perch as he got dragged and thrown around again and again, still fighting against the creature after every avenue seemed to prove pointless in overpowering it. Another particularly harsh fling had him crashing into the ground and when he didn’t move to get up you found yourself climbing back down to the ground.

Before you could think to do anything, the creature was rearing itself to charge him again. As it neared him, the Mandalorian managed to get up onto his knees and held out a small dagger in front of him. A frown pulled at your lips as you realized that was all he had left to defend himself. He struggled to get a steady hold on the small weapon, his head bobbing and his arms shaking. He bowed his head and held the dagger out in front of him with both hands as the creature closed in on him.

Your breath caught in your throat at the sight. You clenched your eyes shut and flung a hand out but concentration left you in the wake of blinding panic. Across the clearing, the Child did the same motion, mimicking you as he too clenched his eyes.

When sounds of the creature struggling finally wedged into your tunneled ears, you looked up with a gasp to see it being held steady in the air. Your head whipped around toward the pod, despite the distance it was obvious that the Child was using the Force to restrain the creature, effectively stopping it from killing the Mandalorian. Shaking off whatever he was feeling at the sight, the Mandalorian stood and slowly approached the floating, struggling creature. He spared a glance at you and then the Child when you nodded your head over toward it.

The Child seemed to lose his concentration, becoming overwhelmed with using the Force and he collapsed back into the pod. The mudhorn’s figure settling back onto the ground shook the clearing. All was still for a moment before the Mandalorian ran toward it. With a quick movement, he dug the dagger deep into its neck, collapsing as he did so.

It was quiet as he stood back up. Looking over the downed creature and twisting the blade in further before removing it completely.

A deep roar sounded from the mouth of the cave again, sending a trill of panic over you. One of them was enough of a challenge. Two of them would mean the death of the Mandalorian and subsequently you and the Child.

“Jatne vod, ogir's shol'shya!”

Sir, watch out, there’s one more!

Your shout was loud and sudden, voice harsh with panic. The already exhausted and beaten man had no more weapons, yours had been tucked into his belt, but you didn’t see it on his person anymore. The probability of it being lost in the mud somewhere from when he had been flung about like a ragdoll.

You rushed across the clearing before the cave as a second, larger, angrier mudhorn exploded out from the entrance at incredible speed. You reached out a tether with the Force, trying to hone in on the kyber crystal that you could hear faint whispers from. You were just stepping in front of the man still in front of the first downed mudhorn when the handle of your saber flew to you from the depths of the mud.

He rushed from the fallen body of the dead mudhorn and ran toward the pod in an attempt to protect the now unconscious Child.

A split second later the mudhorn made a curdling roar as you reached a hand out to shove the creature back a few yards, getting it as far from the two recovering figures as you could muster. Rushing after it without another word. It was already back up and rushing toward you, angered at having been tossed in such a way, at seeing the corpse of its partner off to the side.

You dropped to your knees and used the slickness of the mud to slide entirely underneath its charging form. Reaching up you engaged the saber, the white light of the blade searing a deep cut above you across the entirety of the creature’s underside.

The creature fell to the ground, dead. And you let darkness take over you as you collapsed beside it, the saber falling from your shaking arms.

The Mandalorian watched from where he was kneeling heavily on the ground in front of the pod, his knees digging into the thick mud. Both you and the small being in the pod were passed out, the foreign powers you both had used draining you. That was two quarries that had decided to save his life despite the circumstances, two debts he now owed…

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scene dividers made by the lovely @cafekitsune

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aquagirl1978 · 8 months

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Rescue Me - Jin Grandet x Reader (Ikemen Prince)

A/N: Part of the Late Summer Rendezvous hosted by @xxsycamore - this is a gift for my dear friend @randonauticrap, I hope this little bit of Jin brightens your day!

Pairing: Jin Grandet x Reader

Prompt: sexy life guard

Tags: NSFW; Minors- DNI

The summer rays were warm on your face as you relaxed in your chair; the sun, high in the sky, shined down on you as you read your book and sipped iced tea. Digging your toes in the sand, you turned the page, anxious to see whether love would bloom between the heroine and her love interest.

A group of small children ran by, laughing and shouting, causing you to put down your book for a moment. Oh, to be young again. Your gaze followed them down the beach, your eyes lingering on the tall lifeguard tower.

Seated atop the tower like an eagle perched in his nest, dressed in red swim trunks and dark sunglasses, was a man. A very handsome man with broad shoulders and sculpted abs. You watched as he blew a whistle and called to some people to not swim so far out.

Oh, how you wished he would blow that whistle and call out to you.

You’d come running to him, your body wet from swimming in the ocean. Pressing your palms on his bare chest, you’d watch with lidded eyes as drops of water, glistening in the sunshine, trickled down his chest. He’d tease you for getting him wet like that, and maybe, if you were lucky, he’d grab you by the wrist and take you somewhere more private.

You glanced further down the beach and saw an outcropping of rocks. “We can stay hidden there,” he would say, as he held your wrist firmly in his large hand, his thumb pressing on your pulsepoint, as you panted, trying to keep up with his long strides in the sand.

Peals of laughter broke your fantasy, your eyes quickly finding the source of the sound. A flock of teenage girls had surrounded the lifeguard’s tower and were loudly chatting with him. The lifeguard was friendly in his responses, his eyes, however, were locked on the ocean.

Picking up your beverage, you took a long sip, the cool liquid refreshing on your tongue, however, doing nothing to temper the heat growing inside. Biting your lip, your mind wandered once more, allowing those long, strong swimmer’s arms to wrap around your shoulders.

“You should be punished for distracting me while I’m working.” His tone was serious, but the way he looked at you – garnet eyes aglow with wicked mischief – told a different story. Holding his gaze, you remained silent, waiting for your punishment.

He dipped his head towards yours, capturing your lips in a fiery kiss. Your wet body pressed against his as the tip of his tongue probed open your lips, seeking entrance into your mouth. Moaning softly, your tongues met, twisting and twirling, as he hands began to wander down your back.

His fingers would easily pull down the straps of your bathing, allowing your breasts to spill from the tight fabric. You could feel the smile in his kiss as he cupped one breast in his hand, his thumb massaging your nipple. The roar of the ocean grew louder, masking your moans, as the water splashed around your ankles.

Tearing your eyes away from the lifeguard's tower, you reached for your book, desperately needing a distraction. You focused your eyes on the words on the pages, following the escapades of Mitch and CJ and friends. Of all the books you owned, why did you pick the one book you owned about lifeguards?

You picked up your glass, now only half-full, although you would need enough iced tea to fill an Olympic-sized pool to quench your thirst this afternoon.

The whistle blew once more; your head turned to find the lifeguard flying off his post, running straight into the water. The water slowed his movements as a small crowd stopped to watch as the lifeguard scooped the young boy in his arms, swiftly returning to the beach. He brought the boy to his tower, where he offered him a dry towel and a brightly colored lollipop. A frantic couple came running; reuniting with their son, they thanked the lifeguard profusely for saving their son's life.

"Just doing my job," you heard the lifeguard say before popping a blue lollipop into his mouth. This one here truly was the complete package – strong, handsome, kind, and a hero.

He was also soaking wet, head to toe. He ran a hand through his hair, pushing his damp bangs free from his face, his breathing only slightly heavier after his heroics.

The book fell from your hands and into your lap; there would be time to finish the story later.

"This is good," he'd say, stopping when the water reached just below his shoulders. Scooping you in his arms, your bodies free of your bathing suits, he pulled you close, your legs wrapping around his waist. Your body shivered with excitement as he plunged a finger inside you, quickly adding a second. Tilting your head back, the water helped keep your body afloat as he continued to finger you.

His name was but a whisper on your lips as he entered you, your hands slippery as your nails tried to dig into his back. Was it the water? The position, maybe? Or perhaps the thrill of making love at the beach? Either way, your senses were heightened, enhancing your pleasure.

It wasn't long before your bodies melted into one, the state of your bliss euphoric yet ephemeral.

The skies turned a shade of cotton candy pink as the sun started to set; the lifeguard blew his whistle one more time, marking the end of his shift. You watched him leave wistfully as you packed your bag. It would be dinner soon, time to head home.

With your bag slung over your shoulders, you made your way to the parking lot. It wasn't hard to find your car as most had already left for the day.

After tossing your bag into the trunk, you slid into the front seat next to a handsome, familiar face, a long, white tee shirt covering some of his red swim trunks.

"Hey, babe," Jin said, greeting you with a kiss on the cheek. "Ready to go home?"

Tagging: @redheadkittys @alixennial @rhodolitesroseforclavis @kissmetwicekissmedeadly @chaosangel767 @queengiuliettafirstlady @queen-dahlia @ikehoe @ikemen-writer @talfollowingstuff @kpop-and-otome @kisara-16 @altairring @lucyw260 @lordsisterxotome @umi-adxhira @bellerose-arcana @yarnnerdally @crypticbibliophile @tele86 @nightfoxqueen @melodiousramblings @wendolrea @aceuuuu @randonauticrap @aria-chikage @nightghoul381 @itsjudesfault @maries-gallery @xbalayage

#late summer rendezvous #ikemen series #ikemen prince #ikepri #jin grandet #ikepri jin #ikemen jin #ikemen fanfic #ikepri fanfic #otome #otome games #otome fanfic

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ikeromantic · 8 months

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CinderAlice pt. 3

The winner of the IkeRev 1K AU story poll was Cinderella! Featuring the Black Army guys and Alice as Cinderella. 1700 words Pt. 3/4

Part 1 Part 2

Alice left the heat and light and noise of the ballroom to take a break on one of the patios, where a small, beautiful garden glowed under the light of the stars. It was quiet out here, and she was alone. Well, almost alone. There was a dark gray cat perched on the rail, watching her with curious intensity.

“Aren’t you a pretty one,” Alice held her hand out to the cat. After a moment, the kitty sniffed it and then pushed her head beneath Alice’s fingers. “You must be a princess kitty, living in the palace. Do you have a tiara when you’re not on break?”

“A collar, actually.” The voice along with a smoky laugh came from the lit doorway behind her.

Alice turned her head to see who’d snuck up while her attention was on the cat. All she could make out at first was a silhouette. Broad shoulders, thick messy hair, slim hips. Then he moved closer, and in the dim light she could see his features more clearly. He wore a uniform like the palace knights, but somehow more refined. It was his striking, emerald green eyes that drew her attention though. He looked oddly familiar, especially in profile. “I-is this kitty yours?”

“Yeah. Her name is Belle.” He walked over and petted the cat as she twined around his outstretched hand. “She doesn’t usually warm up to strangers. You must be special.”

She wasn’t able to hold his intense gaze and looked away into the garden. This knight had a strong magnetism, a draw that made her feel a little tipsy when he complimented her like that. Alice hoped he didn’t notice. “Well, I did hold my hand there for a bit. So we got introduced properly.”

“That’s important.” The man nodded and suddenly held his hand out to her, to shake it. “I’m Ray.”

Alice took his hand and looked up at him again. He was, she thought, really handsome. A classic masculine beauty with natural charm. And his hand was warm and calloused and she could feel his thumb brush across her knuckles in a gentle caress. “I -”

A figure burst through the opening from the ballroom, clearly rushing. “There you are!”

“Luka?” Alice turned, half-stunned. It was definitely her neighbor, but he was wearing a proper suit and his hair was clean and pulled back, decorated with a lovely little clip. “What are you doing here?”

Ray released her hand with a chuckle. “Looks like you have a fan.” He smiled. “I’ll catch up with you later.” And then he left, back to the ballroom where he disappeared into the crowd.

Luka crossed the space between them and took hold of her shoulders. “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” Alice replied, flustered. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

He dropped his hands and looked away. “I saw you leaving in that strange coach. I was . . . worried.”

“Well . . .” Alice wasn’t sure how to respond. It was sweet for him to be worried, but his expression right now looked more sullen and a little embarrassed. “Thank you. For checking on me.” She paused, then added, “You look really nice, all dressed up.”

“You too,” he murmured.

She felt her heart squeeze in her chest at the compliment. “I wore the earrings you gave me.”

Luka glanced up, his eyes wide. The tips of his ears turned pink. He didn’t say anything.

Alice stared back at him, a fluttering sensation in her belly. She waited, but he only kept looking at her, his face going redder with each passing moment. “Uhm. I should . . . get back. But thank you again for checking on me. It was really sweet.”

As she turned to go, he reached out and caught her hand. “Wait. Please.” He took a shaky breath. “Would you dance with me?” His voice was rougher than usual, as if his throat constricted on the words.

“Here?” She looked around the porch. It was dark and quiet here, and smelled of blooming flowers and summer grass. Kind of romantic, she thought.

In answer, he took her hand and pulled her close. He set his other hand at her hip, and began to slowly move with the music. He wasn’t as skilled a dancer as Sirius, nor as wild and energetic as Fenrir, but there was something gentle and sweet in the swaying steps he took her through. They stood close, almost touching, palms pressed together.

Alice found she could not take her eyes off him for the entire dance. This was a Luka she didn’t know.

When the song ended, he stopped and let go of her hand. “I wanted to tell you -” He began, but a loud clapping and cheering from inside the ballroom interrupted him. They both turned to see what the commotion was.

A palace servant stood on the royal dais. “The Prince will now have his first dance.”

“Oh! Luka let’s go watch,” Alice said excitedly and hurried back into the ballroom where she quickly lost him in the crowded press of people. She wanted to memorize the moment she saw the Prince and watched him dance with one of the beautiful noble ladies at the ball.

A few moments later, the crowd on the other side of the ballroom opened and a man in uniform stepped forward. A familiar looking man, to Alice’s eyes. “Oh my . . . that’s Ray!” She clapped a hand to her mouth as she watched the nobles bow to him when he passed. She felt like such an idiot. She wanted to go hide somewhere, but she was frozen to the spot, watching him walk into the now empty dance floor.

Ray’s eyes scanned the crowd as he looked for the lucky woman that would be his first dance partner for the night. And then they stopped. The crowd around Alice parted as he moved toward her.

Alice could only watch in a sort of shock. This was too much, she thought. It was entirely impossible.

“Care to dance?” Ray leaned in, a mischievous grin on his face. “I promise I’m at least as much fun as Belle.”

“I - I . . . yes?” She let him take her hand and lead her out onto the dance floor. Everyone was watching and Alice felt horribly self conscious. But the music started and Ray had hold of her hand and her waist. His grip was warm and reassuring and there was something so relaxed about him that she couldn’t stay tense.

“You know, you’re a pretty good dancer,” Ray told her. “But I haven’t seen you at any ball before this.”

Alice nodded. “It’s my first.”

He laughed. “You must be a natural then.” His eyes almost seemed to glow as he studied her face.

“I wanted to apologize for earlier. I didn't realize who you were and I should have.”

Ray’s nose crinkled. “No, it’s kind of nice just getting to be Ray for a change, and not The Prince.” He spun her around and caught her against his chest. “Besides, I like the way you say my name.”

“Thank you. Ray.” She smiled up at him, feeling a rush of heat in her chest. Her smile felt so wide it almost hurt, and her heart thudded in her chest. “It was really great, getting to meet you. And Belle!”

“I feel the same way.” He dipped her down, his face coming so close to hers that she could feel his breath on her cheek. “I would like to get to see you again. But you know, I didn’t even get your name.” He pulled her back to standing with a grin, a question on his lips.

Before he could speak it, the bell tower struck the first chime of midnight. Alice’s eyes went wide. In just a few moments, her beautiful gown would turn to rags and she would be nothing but a serving girl again. She scrambled from his grasp as the tower struck the second chime.

The gathered crowd gasped as she pushed through them, running as fast as she could for the door. The third chime struck. The fourth. Alice darted past the door guard. The fifth bell rang. The sixth. Behind her, shouts and the sounds of pursuit.

As Alice fled down the stairs, she lost a shoe, but there was no time to pick it up. The seventh chime sounded. She leapt into her waiting carriage to the echoes of chime eight. By chime nine, the horses were moving and the coach rattled along behind them, leaving the palace and everyone from the ball behind.

“Just in time, sweetie. I was really getting worried there.” Seth appeared in the seat beside her. “Did you have a good time?”

“I did.” She sighed, glancing back at the empty street behind them. “I got to meet Sir Godspeed and Sirius and even the Prince. And Luka came!”

Seth giggled. “You will have to tell me all about it. I’m not surprised you got so much attention! I’ve half a mind to take you away from all this and keep you to myself. You are just too cute.”

Alice wasn’t sure if he was teasing or serious, but she decided to assume it was a joke. On the ride home, she told him all about it. How much she’d enjoyed dancing, how beautiful everything was . . . but she didn’t tell him how her heart had raced or the silly romantic thoughts that crossed her mind.

The next morning, breakfast was a loud affair. Druzilla and Anastasia chattered on about the ball and who they danced with. Druzilla was sure she’d caught the Prince’s eye because he smiled at her. Anastasia disagreed, because clearly he was looking at her. And of course, both of them discussed their theories of the mysterious woman that fled the first dance with the Prince.

Only Lady Tremaine was quiet, her steely gaze following Alice everywhere. Later in the day, the Lady even came to Alice’s tiny room and tore it apart, searching. She wouldn’t say for what. But she found nothing. Still, she had her revenge for crimes unproven, and gave Alice even more work that week. Scrubbing and polishing until her hands were raw and red, and her muscles ached.

Alice didn’t mind. The memories of her night at the royal ball floated through her mind. Music and beauty and the kindness of the people she’d met. It made her hope for something better, and more, to believe one day that something might be hers. Often, she found her thoughts drifting to one, special someone and remembering their touch. One day she might see them again.

Part 4

#ikemen revolution #ikerev au #ikerev ray #ikerev luka #ray blackwell #luka clemence #fanfiction #fanfic #otome #otome guys #fluff #follower celebration

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imjustasimpxd · 2 years

Text

Masterlist

Title : I’m Here Now

Pairing : Tanjiro Kamado x reader

Summary : During a brutal fight with a demon, Y/n and Tanjiro struggle to defeat their enemy. To make matters worse, the demon soon reveals a dangerous blood demon art that gives him an advantage over the two swordsmen. Will they be able to be able to defeat their opponent? Or will the two become yet another victim to fall into his trap?

Warning : Angst, mentions of blood and decapitation, fluff near the end.

Word count : 2,700 words

author’s notes : reblogs are appreciated!! I appreciate all feedback on my writing so that I can know what you guys liked and what you think I should improve on😊

disclaimer : this is a work of fiction and should in no way, shape, or form, be taken seriously.

“Tanjiro!!”

Your voice pierced through the air, eyes widening in shock as you witnessed your friend struggle to fight off the demon before him.

His limbs were shaking, movements slower than before due to the numerous injuries he received. Even the gentle smile he had shown you earlier seemed to wither away, replaced by a horrified expression as he stared down death itself.

“Get out of here! Now!”

Tanjiro shouted back at you, using what little strength he had left to encourage you to retreat. Praying you’d find a safe place to hide instead of remaining here, where danger was lingering.

In all honesty you wanted to run, the demon before you was frighteningly strong, one of the deadliest you’ve ever encountered. You knew that staying here meant there was a chance you wouldn’t make it out alive, and that very thought shook you to the core..

…but you had to do something.

You couldn’t remember what had happened earlier, why your memory was so clouded to the events before Tanjiro jumped in front of you and spared you from the demon’s grasp. But none of that mattered now, because all you saw before you was your friend in danger, his life dangling on the chance that you’d rescue him.

You couldn’t just stand by and watch. You refused to let him be devoured without putting up a fight to rescue him.

“Flame breathing..”

Your hands quickly reached for your sword, feet sliding across the ground to assume a powerful fighting stance.

“Second form..”

Your sword unveiled from its sheath, exposing its glittering colors under the moonlight as you moved it into position.

“Rising Scorching Sun!”

You shouted, your blade bursting with flames as you sprinted towards the demon.

“Let him go!!”

You screamed, rushing at his feet and slicing the bottom of the demon’s heels. Due to his immense strength, your blow across his feet didn’t do much besides annoy the demon, however, you succeeded in pulling his attention away from Tanjiro.

The demon loosened his grip around your partner, allowing a wave of relief to settle in your stomach once you saw he was still okay. Tanjiro may have been in bad shape, he may have had multiple injuries lining his body, however, he was still breathing. He was still alright, and keeping him that way is the only thing you cared about.

“Fine then, let’s wrap this up.”

You mumbled to yourself, quickly retaking your stance on the ground and using all your force to jump through the air. Since the demon was so large in size you hoped to use that to your advantage, landing on one of his broad shoulders and moving to strike.

It was all going exactly how you planned. Your weapon was nearing your opponents neck, aiming to sever it from the place that connected it to the rest of the body.

So close.. the tip of your blade was only inches away from the demon’s flesh, but that’s when the unexpected happened…

“Y/n no! Don’t look into his eyes!”

Tanjiro tried to warn you, but it was too late. As the demon turned his head towards you, his eyes emitting some sort of hypnotic ray in your direction, everything seemed to change…

Tanjiro was no longer in front of you, nor was the demon you were about to strike down..

Instead your eyes quickly widened to a more disturbing image. The body cowering behind your sword, moments away from being decapitated was no longer the demon.. Instead it was a little girl, one you recognized to be your sister…

“Please! Don’t kill me!!”

She screamed, her eyes full of terror as she witnessed your blade nearing her neck, only seconds away from piercing through her flesh.

You gasped at the mere sight of it, quickly lowering your blade to prevent any harm from coming to the sibling trembling in front of you.

You quickly took a step back, your mind both overwhelmed and confused at the sight unfolding in front of your own eyes.

What was happening? Why did everything change? Where were Tanjiro and the demon? Why was your sister here instead?

You had no answers, no clue to explain the disturbing situation before your eyes. But what you didn’t know is it was all because of the demon’s blood art. It allowed him to cast a powerful spell onto his enemies. He used hallucinations to divert their attention, showing his opponent’s a image of a false situation and displaying it in a way as if it were reality. He used his art to distract his rival, confusing them with whether or not what they saw was real and using that to his advantage. Once he had his enemy under his spell, he would strike, killing them before they even had the chance to return from their hallucinations.

But you didn’t understand.. You didn’t realize the sibling you saw before you, the one you almost beheaded, wasn’t real…

That sister of yours wasn’t actually here, but you retracted your sword regardless, resulting in something smashing against your ribs immediately after.

That’s when the scenery changed yet again. Your sibling was nowhere to be found and that image you saw seconds ago was now wiped from your sight to replace with something more terrifying.

You glanced around, finding Tanjiro within your field of vision once more, however, the demon now held you within his grasp as well. His large fingers tightened around your body as he cackled at your stupidity.

“I can’t believe you fell for that again!” The demon taunted you.

“Wait! Again? What does he mean again? This happened before?” You mumbled to yourself, taken back by the train wreck of confusion that seemed to hit you like a pile of bricks.

Your breath quickly halted in your lungs, the flames that previously surrounded your blade now extinguished. You yelped loudly as the demon began to squeeze you in his hand, straining the muscles inside your body more and more with every second.

“Y/n listen to me! Whatever he shows you it’s not real! You have to kill him now!”

Tanjiro shouted, his limbs weakening from the position the demon was holding him in.

As his words rattled in your ears, that’s when everything started coming back, when you suddenly began regaining the memories of the first time you were put under the demon’s spell.

You remembered aiming for the demon’s head, but suddenly seeing a different person in front of your blade. Last time it was your father, this time it was your sister…

Both times it caught you off guard, making you stop in your tracks and become vulnerable to the demon’s attacks. That’s why Tanjiro jumped in front of you, allowing himself to get in harm's way while you were stuck under the demon’s spell. All the memories came rushing back in an instant, making you aware of the situation before you.

“He’s right! I remember now!” You thought to yourself. “It’s just an illusion! They’re not really here!”

You felt stupid. You let your emotions get the best of you by believing the illusion, thinking it was really the faces of your family members that you witnessed and refusing to kill them because of it.

If you hadn’t let your guard down and fallen under the spell, If you would’ve simply kept your emotions in check and killed that demon from the start, then maybe none of this would’ve happened. Maybe the person who trusted you more than anyone else wouldn’t be inches away from being eaten alive.

The sole reason you both were in this mess right now is because of your own foolish actions. You should have known better, you should have been stronger…

But regardless of your inabilities, none of that mattered anymore, because this was your chance…

Your chance to make things right and rescue Tanjiro from the clutches of death. No matter what it took, you had to repay him and save him before it was too late. Just like he did for you earlier when he jumped in front of you, getting himself stuck in the chokehold he was now struggling to escape from.

You quickly gripped your blade, regaining that tight hold around it and lifting it in the air once more.

“No! I won’t let you win!”

You yelled, using your sword to slice through demon’s arm. His severed limb plummeted to the ground, allowing you to escape from his grasp and regain your footing on the ground below.

Despite your talented strike, the demon’s arm grew back surprisingly fast… however, it didn’t matter, because you were faster.

“Flame breathing.. third form..”

Your body rotated to assume a fighting stance once again.

“Blazing universe!”

You shouted, this time jumping higher into the air and positioning your sword over your head. You yelled loudly as your body came charging downwards, aiming for the kill once more… but unfortunately, the demon’s eyes caught yours again; using his blood art to change the scenery before you.

“Y/n wait! Please don’t!”

Your eyes widened to reveal your mother behind the sword this time. Her cheeks damp with tears as she pleaded for you to spare her life.

You paused for a moment, feeling your heart drop at the way she looked at you. Her face was etched with an expression of betrayal, her eyes leaking with tears as she watched you approach with the weapon gripped in your hand.

“No! This isn’t real! It’s not really her!”

You reminded yourself, tightening the grip on your sword and aiming for your mother’s neck.

“It’s just the demon! Don’t give in!”

You repeated over and over again, hoping the reminder would stick in your brain and prevent you from being fooled a third time.

You gritted your teeth, moving your blade behind you to make the finishing blow. But just when you were about to go through with it, the scenery changed for the last time…

The person waiting to taste your steel blade across their neck was no longer your mother…

Instead, it was Tanjiro…

Your limbs froze, your heart stopped beating in your chest. Even your breath seemed to restrain itself in your lungs, as you stared down your best friend. The same one your blade was about to diminish.

But Tanjiro was with you earlier… Was this really him? The same Tanjiro who was being attacked a moment before?

You glanced at your sword, then back at him, wondering what the right choice to do was.

Was Tanjiro actually about to die by your hands?

You didn’t know what to believe anymore. Your grip on reality seemed to slip away so easily the moment your eyes met with his.

“Y/n please…”

His voice cried out in agony, the desperation that laced his tone made your skin crawl.

“Don’t kill me…”

He spoke, his eyes begging for you to let him live, to spare him from the pain you were about to inflict on him.

The very sight of it made your body shiver, tears pooling in your eyes as you realized what you were doing, how you were about to kill him…

His cries filled your ears, shattering your heart into pieces as you watched the way his hands trembled.

You couldn’t do it… How could you? He meant so much to you. He had always been there for you, yet here you were ready to end his life in an instant..

You began lowering your blade, about to fall for the demon’s art a third time, however, you suddenly recognized something.

The smile on his face.

It wasn’t joyful or gentle like it should be. Instead, his lips formed into a smirk, almost like he was mocking you…

That’s not like him…

Suddenly it all came rushing back. This wasn’t real. This wasn’t Tanjiro standing before you was it?

No, it was the demon, right?

But wait… how could you be so sure? As the demon’s strength only increased by the minute, it became harder to differentiate reality from illusion.

The only way to truly know if he was real or not was to cut off his head…

But were you able to take that chance? To risk killing your best friend just to find out if this was still an illusion or not?

No… you had to know. No matter what it took, even if it really was him, you had to find out…

“I’m sorry!”

You shouted, tears draining your eyes as you clenched your teeth, rotating the grip on your sword and lifting it behind your back in preparation to swing towards him. You quickly closed your eyes, resisting to give in to any temptation to stop before proceeding to violently fling your blade in front of you, hearing the edge slice through flesh.

And just like that, your blade severed the demon’s head…

When your feet hit the ground, you looked up to see your true opponent before you, his body turning to ash as he did all he could to stay alive. He yelled in your face, cursing you for defeating his demon art and finishing him off with just one swing.

But, despite his antics, you only stared at him in return. Letting no words leave your mouth as you waited for his body to disappear completely.

Once it finally did, an exhausted sigh released from your lips, letting the built-up tension escape from you as you placed your sword back into its sheath. When you stood there, silently taking a minute to recollect yourself, you heard a voice behind you call your name.

“Y/n…”

You turned around to see Tanjiro staring at you, his skin bloodied and bruised like it was before you started fighting the demon, signaling to you that it really was him this time.

Your breathing quickly slowed as you gazed at him, relived to find out that your earlier encounter with him was truly just an illusion.

“I’m so happy you’re alive!”

Your eyes instantly burst with tears, your voice cracking as you spoke due to the sheer joy you found in knowing he was safe.

“I thought I killed you back there!”

You began crying, the pure gratefulness of his survival becoming all too overwhelming to keep inside. Your body, too weak to stop it, sunk to the floor as you began sobbing. Feeling your uniform drench in tears as you attempted to recover from the trauma you were just subjected to. Your throat was already burning from all the yelling you did in battle, but now, as your cries seemed to only increase in volume, the fire you felt sprinting down your throat sent jolts of pain jerking at your vocal cords.

As those past images flashed in your head once more, it felt like this nightmare would never end. But then suddenly, you felt a comforting touch settle upon your shoulder.

“Don’t worry it’s alright.”

Tanjiro’s voice entered the air softly, his tone as reassuring and comforting as always.

“I’m here now.”

He explained softly, his hands reaching around your back and pulling your body against his to embrace you in a gentle hug. As your head rested against his chest, feeling his heartbeat pounding next to your ear, it caused one last tear to slide down your cheek. But this tear was joined with a smile, one that grew profoundly as you lifted your hands to his sides, wrapping your arms around him as well.

No matter what happened, no matter how brutal things got for either of you, he was always here, making sure you were alright. Even in the face of death, he was always putting you before himself, like when he told you to run instead of staying behind to rescue him.

He would fight any enemy, topple any obstacle, as long as it meant you were safe.

Your heart pumped a little faster when you felt his hands rub along your back, doing his best to comfort you in any way he could. Your grip around him soon grew tighter as you reveled in his comforting touch, your body finally having the chance to relax after such a harsh battle… and all because of him.

Masterlist

#tanjiro kny #tanjiro angst #tanjiro fluff #tanjiro x reader #tanjiro x you #tanjiro kamado #kamado tanjiro #demon slayer #tanjiro kimetsu no yaiba #kny angst #kny fluff #kny tanjirou #kny tanjiro x reader #kny oc #kny rengoku #kny kyojuro #kny fanfic #kny fandom #kny tanjiro kamado

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ketchum-jai · 7 months

Text

Prompt Exercise

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Characters: Katsuki Bakugo and Ochako Uraraka

The evening is calm - leaves that are various shades of red and orange fall from the tall trees, sweeping across the ground that’s covered in brown and yellow grass and sticks by the brisk breeze. The sun is beginning to set, causing pink rays to illuminate the partly cloudy sky.

“Dadeee...” A young boy’s shrill voice makes it all the way to the top of the small hill where a man in his early to mid twenties, sits on top of an extra-large, burgundy blanket spread out underneath him with his left leg fully extended in front of him while the other one is folded up. With his lips curled down into a slight frown he hollers down at the boy, “Whadaya want, Toshi?”

Toshi’s face beams as his eyes that are the same fiery red as his light up in excitement. “I finally got my quirk, daddy. Wanna see?” He smiles wide from ear to ear exposing the few missing teeth in the front.

His eyes widen a bit; blinking a few times while his toned abs tense up, and his abdomen feels like it’s twisting and turning into a million tiny knots, and his hands that are laying flat by his sides clench into tight fists. He feels small fingers that are smooth and warm gently brush the back of his hand, and intertwining with his much larger fingers, then a warm palm rests on top of it. He looks to the right and gazes at a pair of big, auburn eyes that soften when his face begins to melt.

“Ochako.” He says in a breathless voice.

She gives him a small smile making his muscles relax a bit as she spoke in that cute, bubbly voice that he adores so much. “I know I should’ve told you as soon as it happened, but...” She pauses then looks down at their son as he waves up at them from the bottom of the hill. She smiles, waves back at him with her free hand, then places it firmly on her growing baby bump. She tells him in a much quieter tone, “I just didn’t know how you would’ve taken the news, given everything that’s happened and why-”

He huffs then snarls, “Damn Ochako, did you really think I’d be bothered by the fact that my own goddamn kid got his quirk? Do you think I’m a bad dad or something?”

She gasps then shakes her head profusely. “No,” she states firmly, “It isn’t like that. Kacchan-”

He scoffs, snatching his hand from underneath hers then spits out bitterly, “Ah, don’t fucking call me that!”

“Oh please, don’t act like that nickname bothers you so much. I’ve been calling you that for years.” She says teasingly, furrowing her eyebrows with a sly grin spread across her face.

He scowls then turns away from her and mumbles to himself with his arms folded over his strong chest. “Whatever. Don’t play with me.”

“What was that?” She asks, pretending not to hear what he just said.

He nearly chokes on his own spit then coughs before answering subtly, “Eh, nothing. I love you.”

“Mmhm, that’s what I thought you said,” She sneers, scooting closer to him and wrapping her slightly chubby arms around his broad shoulders.

He sighs; his mind suddenly wandering back to the time when his quirk first manifested. He was the coolest kid on the block because none of the other kids who were starting to get their quirks had one that compared to his. Everyone was amazed by him and thought he was so awesome; including Deku - the poor kid admired him so much he allowed himself to be bullied by him. All because he was born without a quirk, Katsuki thought it was fine to treat as if he wasn’t a person deserving of basic human respect. Now look at him - Izuku’s the number one hero, while he had to settle into life as a working man, husband, and father. All because of his quirk backfiring on him and nearly killing him.

That same quirk that garnered him so much attention growing up. The same quirk that made it possible for him to be ranked second in his class when he attended UA. He had such high hopes and was on the protectory of being a top hero; despite that nerd being chosen by All Might himself. He was supposed to have been number one; but nope, all because his heart exploded because his supposed upgraded hero costume couldn’t handle the intensity of his explosion quirk. It was a miracle his heart was even able to be restarted in the first place; and sadly, a second chance at life meant he had to abandon his dreams and pursue a normal life.

He hates his job as a police officer. Yeah, he works with heroes catching and arresting the bad guys that aren’t dangerous enough to warrant seeking the aid of one and showing up to the scene after the fight’s been over with. But he adores his wife and and loves their son and unborn daughter. Despite his dreams being shattered it warms his heart knowing she gets to live hers.

“Daddy!” Toshi cries again while jumping up and down in excitement breaking Katsuki from his thoughts.

Ochako releases him from her embrace, allowing him to stand up on his feet, and he holds out his hand to help her up. She takes it and slowly stands up then they make their way slowly down the hill hand in hand. The wind started to pick up a little and Katsuki pulled Ochako closer to him as they made their way down to the tiny boy. She smiles warmly at him while snuggling closer to Katsuki and pulling her oversized pink flannel closed over her black, fitted jumpsuit. Their child is truly a perfect blend of the both of them; those sharp, crimson eyes obviously comes from Katsuki, but the wild, spiky, auborn colored hair is all her. Toshi is cheery and bubbly like Ochako most of the time, but if he doesn’t get his way he becomes hot headed and stubborn like him. Toshi loves dressing like his dad, and today isn’t an exception. They both are wearing a pair of loose-fitted, dark blue jeans; a black t shirt underneath a red bomber jacket; and a pair of crisp, white high top sneakers.

“Look what I can do!” He says while holding up his right hand and touching the tip of his middle finger with his thumb.

Katsuki’s face remained expressionless until Toshi snaps his fingers causing a loud, popping noise along with what looked like tiny orange and red particles. Huh? Did Katsuki see that right? “Explosion?” He asks Ochako. She chuckles a little bit before answering him, “Not quite...I don’t think. I would say it’s more like fireworks.”

He gazes back down at the boy as he continued snapping his fingers on both hands causing a frenzy of sparks to appear along with that loud popping and cracking noise. Interesting; it does remind him of fireworks, and apparently this is explosion combined with zero gravity. His lips curls up into a small smile as he watches the boy show off his quirk. The way Toshi’s eyes gleam with joy warms his heart.

“See daddy,” he stops snapping his fingers and they both notice the tips are black and red, “now I can grow up and be a police officer like you.”

Ochako gasps then turn to see tears well up in her husband’s eyes. He’ll deny it happening later, though. Katsuki scoops him up in his arms and holds him tight. Toshi wraps his arms around his neck and tells him, “I love you daddy. You’re my hero.”

#anime #anime and manga #fanfics #fanfiction #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bakugou katsuki #urakara ochako #bnha #cute #headcanon #wholesome #creative writing #writing prompt #fic prompt #katsuki x ochako

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endlessly-cursed · 2 years

Note

💜 + thunderstorm for Judespar?

Jude and Caspar had been out for most of the afternoon of their day off and had promised one another to enjoy the day and not think of work.

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. It wasn't very sunny, but there were rays of sunshine. But the moment the smell ran through her nostrils, she opened her eyes "It will rain soon."

Caspar, lost on his own thoughts, looked back at her "What do you mean?"

"It just smells like water, and the smell is strong and the clouds are grey and covering the clouds. It will soon rain."

He frowned but smelled the air and made a face "You have a point."

Jude smiled teasingly "I'm a lawyer, Caspar. I always have a point."

He chuckled and grabbed her waist, kissing her cheek and bringing her close, smelling her perfume again that he so adored. Jude rested her head on his chest and tiptoed to kiss his cheek as well, and he gladly dipped down. A small, perfect red print of her lips appeared on his porcelain cheek and he smiled. For now, he wouldn't take it off.

"How is Joseph these days? Not much of a handful, I hope?"

Jude smiled "He's been great! Growing every day and lately prefers to be with my mother. Traitor," she mumbled and he laughed.

"Even better." He smiled.

She stopped and frowned, looking at him confused and offended "Why is that better, exactly?"

He smiled and kissed her forehead "Because I get more alone time with you. Don't get me wrong, I adore Joseph, but we have few us moments..."

Jude softened and placed her hand on his cheek "If you want me alone, you only need to ask, chérie."

He smiled at started to get closer to her, his eyes on her lips, and she did the same, meeting him halfway. They cared little that they were in public, Jude had becomed somewhat accustomed to Caspar not being afraid to show her off in public as his girlfriend, but her heart still raced at the thought.

She threw her hands on his broad shoulders and he placed his hands on her lower waist. She tiptoed again to have more purchase, more height. So lost in one another, they didn't notice people leaving and when they separated, the thunderstorm had begun and already soaked them both.

Caspar was quick to take off his jacket and placed it on Jude's shoulders and ran for a few minutes before they stopped behind a bridge, safe from the storm. When he looked at her, she was smiling at him fondly "What?"

"Nothing. I just... this reminds me of our first kiss."

Caspar smiled fondly at the memory "If I recall, I gave you my jacket as well."

Jude bit her lip and smiled bashfully "When I miss you and you're not there, I confess I put it on and smell it. It smells like you... and rain."

He melted inside, smiling widely and kissing her forehead. She hugged him and hid her face on his neck. They broke apart when Jude caught a chill and he placed his hand on her forehead "Are you cold?"

"Not if you give me a kiss..."

He smiled and gladly kissed her chastely, and she pouted. He chuckled and kissed her again, and he deepened it this time. Despite being soaked and the thunderstorm being relentless, they just focused on one another. His kisses were keeping her warm anyways. Soon, she was placed gently against the wall, only breaking apart when they needed to breathe.

Jude lost track of time in Caspar's arms. How much time had passed by now? Minutes, hours, years. She did not care. Not now. Here, on this bride, pinned against the wall and with the incredible man that Caspar Brokenshire was, she did not care.

Caspar whispered her name and was to kiss her again when a car honked, breaking the spell they had been put followed by the driver's "Get a room!" rather impertinent comment.

Caspar cleared his throat, embarrassed by that, and Jude tried not to laugh "Ahem. We should get back. Your mother will be waiting with Joseph..."

She nodded, and when they came back and had to endure Adrienne Dubois' scolding speech, they tried not to laugh. When she finished, she sighed "...And I won't even ask for your giggly faces, that are red and with your lips swollen!"

When she left, both of them burst into laughter.

#asks #fbawtft #halloween asks #oc: jude dubois #caspar brokenshire #jude x caspar #judespar #halloween prompts #sky 🖋️

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casspurrjoybell-21 · 5 months

Text

Pirate Chains - Volume 2 - Against Tides

*Warning Adult Content*

Chapter 6 - Pirate compromise - Part 1

Nyx

I swan my was out of the lake and coughed up the water that I had inhaled.

I turned around, wiping my hair out of my eyes.

"You crazy, crazy pirate," I yelled at Agenor who was circling around my feet like a shark.

I yelled again hoping he'd hear me from under the water.

But it looks like making me jump off of a cliff was enough as he grabbed my feet and starting dragging me back into the lake.

I tired to swim back to the surface but he held my waist and brought me against his chest.

When I saw him I forgot to breathe.

Under the crystal water of the lake, his aura looked heavier and stronger.

With his long, black hair forming a halo around him and his silver, grey eyes that looked straight into mine, he looked other worldly.

His smirk widened when I stopped struggling and he pushed his thick, wet lips onto mine.

I couldn't close my eyes though, I keep them open to take in every detail and every move his muscles made.

We slowly floated to the surface and I broke our kiss to breathe but a few seconds was all I got when he crushed my lips again with his.

I obeyed and surrendered without hesitation.

My mind was so relaxed after all the over-thinking and fear and confusion I had felt over the last few days.

He told me he hadn't slept with anyone else.

Agenor wasn't the type of man to lie, simply because he didn't need to and I believed him completely.

I love him... a sedated feeling that for once was not blurred by confusion, takes complete control over one's soul and I let it.

I couldn't remove my eyes from his.

I reached to move a strand of hair from his face and ran my fingers through it.

"I love you, Agenor."

The once cocky smirk became a sweet smile.

He held onto the collar around my neck and I felt it move a little.

"What are you doing?"

He didn't answer though, he just gave me a reassuring smile.

Soon I felt a cool breeze against my neck and saw his hand pull back taking the leather collar with it.

I held my naked neck in utter surprise.

"We are here alone, Nyx. Nobody to be afraid of. No one to bother us."

I watched as he swam to the bank of the small lake.

He removed my necklace from his neck, untangling it from his long hair.

He attached it to the collar and set them both on a small grey rock away from the water's edge.

I caressed my neck, enjoying the feeling of freedom and I looked up into the clear blue sky.

I closed my eyes and felt the hot rays of sun combined nicely with the cool clear water.

I felt blessed and I silently thanked God for easing my pain and clearing my confusion.

My quite prayer was interrupted when strong arms wrapped around my torso.

I laid my head back and rested it on his broad shoulder.

Agenor held me close and I relaxed, allowing my legs to float on the soft waters.

I smiled as we swam around, one arm dragging me with him and the other arm moved through the water.

If there were a heaven on earth, this would be it.

"I knew you would like this place," he murmured, before he dipped his lips into my neck.

He kissed and sucked on my flesh.

I shivered, my neck being sensitive after being covered all these months.

I tried to pull away but of course the bastard laughed and then bit me.

"Awe."

I tried to free myself and as soon as I did I took my revenge by splashing him in the face again and again.

He laughed harder with my determination to try and beat him with water and when I didn't stop, he looked at me playfully and I knew I was in trouble and that he was up to no good.

He lunged towards me but luckily I was able to dodge him and swim away, which was a bad idea as I knew how much he enjoyed a chase.

We kept on swimming around chasing each other around the small lake.

He caught me countless times and it didn't take him much for him to do so.

One pounce was enough for him to reach me.

I giggled as he dove and tickled my feet.

I tried to do the same, I dove and chased after him under the crystal clear water.

He was obviously faster but I eventually got him because he had to turn to avoid the rocks at the edge of the lake.

I grabbed his foot and went to tickle him but he swam towards me and gave me a peck on the nose.

I smiled at him forgetting how precious the air that I held was and most of it escaped with the smile, so I immediately had to resurface to breath again.

Agenor joined me and on our way up he held me by the waist and as he ascended he left small kisses on my chest.

A spark traveled up my spine and I could feel my skin burning with eagerness.

I cupped his face.

"Who knew you could start a fire, underwater."

The smirk I got as a reaction, warmed my heart.

I leaned in and our lips joined in a luscious kiss, followed by a hungry bite to my bottom lip.

"You seriously have a problem with biting. What are you, a wolf?"

"Hahaha... actually, I've been told I was a tiger."

He swam towards me and when he closed the distance between us he lifted my chin and lowered his head until our lips brushed together.

"More like a silver, eyed panther."

I couldn't hold back the smile that broke free nor the blush that evaded my face when I remembered the night that I had called him that.

He chuckled and leaned in to lick my ear and add...

"I missed touching you, so much."

Both of his hands went around me an cupped my backside.

"Agenor..."

"Hmm..."

His hands squeezed harder and I felt the blood rushing faster through my veins.

I tried to breathe and cool down but when both of our hard members touched, I pushed him away.

"We can't do this."

"Why not?"

"Because we are outside. Obviously."

"So?"

"So. I'm not doing indecent things on a mountain, maybe filled with bad people looking on."

He chuckled at my comment with a teasing smile on his handsome face.

"Bad people?"

"Yes. The thieves and cruel people you spoke of earlier."

"The one you should be worried about, is here," he said, pushing his groin onto mine and I groaned at the sweet friction, despite the fabric of our pants getting in the way.

He took advantage of my surprise to rub against me again.

The arousal started climbing to my head and my breath accelerated.

I opened my eyes to find him lustfully gazing at me.

"I can't go any further here... we shouldn't do indecent things in the open..." hearing my words, he halted, then looked away and sighed.

He looked annoyed and I didn't know if it was because he was too excited to stop or that he was fed up with me.

I was always a bit uptight.

My cousin, Haven always said so.

He also said I should loosen up.

I couldn't or more correctly, I didn't know how to be more easygoing.

And now Agenor must be thinking the same thing.

Maybe if he was with someone else, they wouldn't have a problem with what he was asking.

NYX: 'There you go again, Nyx. An other thing you can't do.'

"Hey."

I looked up to find him looking at me with a raised eyebrow.

"Don't."

I looked at him questionably, until he tapped his finger on my forehead and added...

"Don't let that brain of yours lead you to frown like that. I forbid it. Okay?"

I look away uncomfortably.

I felt embarrassed that he can read my thoughts so easily.

He's right of course... he is... he's Agenor, the smart charming man that I love.

I rub my forehead a little and nod.

"Sorry."

He chuckled and whispered into my ear...

"There's something you should know learn about being a pirate. It's called compromise."

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mayhemandtrouble · 8 months

Text

Wedding Bells Chapter

Full story with detailed tags of Ao3

The ceremony was scheduled loosely for morning, when gentle rays would be scattered through the leaves of nearby trees. Rey could hear her friends in the courtyard, with Rose taking charge of decorating as though she were tending to a fleet of ships. It was sweet. Last night, after a few drinks, she’d asked Rey if she and Finn ought to come to Naboo. Rey hoped they would.

“Ben, you’re supposed to be leaving!” Rey laughed, coming back to the moment as she felt his strong arms around her from behind.

“In a minute.” Ben smiled, gently coaxing her towards the refresher.

“What’s that?” She nodded towards the thin box while he picked up her brush. She’d suspected he would want to tend her hair himself. It had become a private ritual between them, with Ben allowing himself to care for another and Rey allowed herself to be cared about.

“Open it.” He teased, gently running the brush over his lover’s brown silk hair. Coaxing out every tangle before Ben began to section off slender bits, starting at her crown and working down.

“Oh… oh Ben.” Rey breathed out slowly as she caught sight of what lay inside the box. Three pieces, to be precise. A bracelet, done in bright, silver metal that seemed to shimmer in the light. Simple enough but with a winding floral vine and embedded pearls for the center of each flower. Beneath were two copies in miniature, omitting the pearls. One for her, one for each of the twins.

“You should have-” Rey tried to turn her head but Ben kept her looking straight in the mirror with gentle pressure of his hands.

“Stay still. Besides,” Ben kissed the back of her neck lightly. It felt like so long ago that he had done this through their connections, trying desperately to win her trust only to break her goodness. “A man gets to decorate his love.”

“Mmm, but you’ll be left out when we all wear them.” She teased, knowing that warm purr in his voice. Ben was happy. That knowledge alone warmed her from the inside out.

“Silly Flower.” Using his teeth, he yanked the sleeve of his right arm down a little. Displaying a matching, if darker toned, piece already on his wrist. Far broader, it lacked the trailing the vine and pearls while keeping the floral images - carved directly into a dark metal so that the lines shone like stars in the night. “I intend to keep you where I can see you, even when I can’t reach you.”

Foolish sentiment, he knew. But even if he had to stay within the walls of Varykino forever, Rey would have to step out. He would not allow their marriage to become a cage for her. It was a trinket to bind the family, and to help him remember why he’d stepped back from the abyss.

When Ben stepped out of their bedroom, it was after drying several sets of happy tears from Rey’s cheeks. No doubt, she would be trying to think of something to present him with in the coming days. That was simply how they were, and he was grateful for it. Once fully into the hall, he noted his Mother lingering in a nearby doorway and smirked.

“Waiting to make a last plea for her sanity? She won’t run fast in her condition.”

“Her sanity is long gone.” Leia snorted, striding over to her son. Between his style and her own, the man was dressed in accordance with his family station. A black tunic, made of a textured weave that drew the light across, with a cape attached at the shoulders in a matte black. More of the same fabric draped across his broad chest as a sash. Trousers in black linen, with a stripe of gun metal silver running down the outside of his legs. A nod to Han’s blood stripes, though Leia knew better than to reference it aloud.

“Agreed.” His smirk grew, along with the smile lines around his eyes. Leia had spared no expense, where Rey would let her indulge, and one could read the significance of the day in how she dressed. The sides of her hair had been rolled into beautiful ropes of strands, with Grandmother’s silver hairpieces secured along the back of her head. At the base of her neck, the length was braided and curled around itself, interwoven with ribbon that was embroidered with precious metals. Catching the light subtly but beautifully.

“Stand still, or you’ll make me wrinkle your tunic. Rey won’t care, but I will.” Leia fussed, seeming to pull a wide black belt from nowhere and securing it around her son’s waist. Each movement confused him and sent the immense swathes of her draped gown fluttering. She had selected rose colors, with wide silver accents that gathered the material of her sleeves several inches below her wrists. Entirely impractical and entirely wonderful.

“Mother-”

“It’s tradition, Ben.” Hushing him with a scolding tone, Leia fastened the belt neatly under his sash. She took only a moment to step back to observe the effect before adding her finishing touch.

Ben looked down when he felt a slight tug at the belt. As his mother’s hands withdrew, with a quiet smile on her face, he stared at what she had left behind. His saber, not as it was when he presented it to her, but how it had been before his fall. She had repaired it, quietly and on her own, removing the crossguard and cleaning the metal where the vents had blown. Now it shone in the morning light and when his ungloved fingers traced it, all he felt was her warmth.

“It’s family tradition for me to outfit you with a sword for your wedding day.”

She spoke quickly and Ben smiled. If that was the story she wished to tell, it was a good one. It was true, technically speaking. He was her heir, the only descendent of the Royal House of Alderaan. And with the Rhindon Sword destroyed along with the planet, something else would have to suffice. Though it certainly didn’t have to be a lightsaber, lovingly restored to the last time he’d been strong with the Light.

“Thank you, Mother.” Ben stooped and kissed her forehead lightly, before he was shooed along so that Leia could help Rey with her veil.

“You look beautiful.” Leia couldn’t help a smile of motherly pride at Rey. She had opted for a dress that was relatively simple, by the current planet’s fashion standards. White satin, whose full skirt flowed in waves along her figure, angled with a shorter hem in the front to display a cream lining to the skirt. A neatly tailored bodice, and the entire thing was modestly accentuated with the pearls, gems and beadwork that they had removed from Padme’s veil.

“I feel like I’m about to trip and ruin the dress.” Rey scrunched her face in self-deception. She wasn’t wearing heels, plain white flats and she rather felt her ankles were spilling out of them, but still. Rey wasn’t used to formal attire at the best of times.

“You won’t. And even if you do, I’ve learned that nothing gets ruined beyond repair.” The older woman chuckled, noting the newly acquired bracelet on Rey’s wrist. She’d had to arrange those for Ben, of course. It had been nothing short of wonderful to see him so particular about each detail of a gift for Rey. “Sit down, let’s get you finished.”

“Should I wear cosmetics?” Eying Leia’s face in the mirror as Rey sat before the vanity, her own features felt plain for the occasion. She rarely contemplated the pigments, but seeing Leia’s perfectly adorned face brought the question back to the surface. She hadn’t expected Leia to pause in unpacking the veil, looking over at Rey for a long moment before answering.

“Do you want to wear them?”

“Maybe… just a little, for today. I don’t have any so could I…” She hesitated. This was the sort of thing one learned with their parents, Rey supposed. If they wanted to use the powders and creams at all, and how to use them. Or with their friends as children and teens. It wasn’t supposed to be something you learned from your husband’s mother on your wedding day.

“Let’s see if you like it.” Leia smiled. It was only a brief walk back to her own room and Leia returned with a large, cream toned case. Upon opening it, Rey swore there were more colors inside than she was aware existed in the entire galaxy. Small pots of barely tinted liquid, tubes of brillant scarlets and sweet pinks, pans of varying sizes and tones - the purpose of each alluded her.

With absolutely no concern as to if it delayed things, Leia took her time. Showing Rey as her Mother had once taught Leia, with the pair settling on a barely there shade of dusty pink for her lip. A little shimmer on Rey’s eyelids that Leia skillfully blended out and a hint of mascara. The effect was subtle, and Rey found she more enjoyed the time spent with Leia than the impact of the pigments. Sharing a warm smile with her mother-in-law in the reflective glass while Leia settled the veil into place.

Rey had decided to do nothing to damage the family heirloom of generational fabric - leaving the opaque white veil as it was, so that it covered her hair and draped down her back in soft waves, echoing the hem of her dress. What they had done instead was to remove much of the opulence, leaving a scattering of beads along the fabric and having them skillfully placed along the dress. Spread over a much larger surface, they created the impression of having stardust scattered along her clothing.

“One last thing.” Leia watched Rey turn to admire herself in a long mirror, the moment bittersweet. The poor girl should have her own family here with her, Han would have loved to see this too. Hated ceremonies but loved a party and he’d have been so proud of Ben. Well, she simply had to do the role of four and Leia Organa was used to taking on a challenge.

“Hmmm?” Rey glanced over in confusion, particularly when her mentor produced a thin silver metal belt, presumably from her large sleeves.

“On Alderaan, the Royal Heir would wear a ceremonial sword during their wedding. You’re both my heirs, so I expect you both to look the part.” Leia’s firm words didn’t tolerate objections, her fingers fastening the belt into place just as she had for Ben. Inspecting Rey fastidiously before she clipped an unfamiliar saber hilt to Rey’s new accessory. It was comprised mostly of a metal with an oddly rose gold hue to it, with raised stripes of silver metal down the length and rings at either end. “There. It will serve you well.”

“Leia, this is yours.” Rey’s voice faltered, her fingertips tracing the cool metal reverently. “I can’t…”

“You most certainly can and you will. Better it goes with you than to sit around gathering dust. My fighting days are behind me and I never cared for the thing anyway.” Dismissing every objection Rey could possibly muster with a smile and a shake of her grey head. Music began to float in through the open windows, increasing Leia’s smile. “Let’s get moving, before Ben decides I’ve kidnapped you.”

As Leia took Rey’s arm, there was a sense of correctness to see her saber at Rey’s hip. She wouldn’t tell them the reason she had set it aside, a premonition that her son’s death would be tied to her own path as a Jedi. Everything that they had done to try and circumvent fate for Ben had only made things worse. It was time to trust.

Chewbacca could barely believe what he was witnessing. The smile on Ben’s face was shockingly gentle as he reached out for Rey’s hand. Drawing the bride from Leia’s side to his own, under a small awning that was positively laden with flowers. Rey hadn’t expressed much in the way of wants or preferences, but she’d asked for flowers. So Chewie personally decorated the stupid metal arch himself - only because he could easily reach the top, mind you.

Rey looked stupidly happy as well, gazing up at Ben. They exchanged vows that were similar to the ones Chewie had heard Han and Leia offer each other. The similarity hurt, thinking about how much Han wanted to be there for his son.

The smuggler turned General would plan their missions around making sure they were back in time to take care of Ben. And increasingly, Han simply didn’t go on them anymore - preferring to spend time with his son. It had broken him when Ben rejected them all, broken him in a way that Chewbacca didn’t know Han could be broken.

They’d gone back out, trying to make believe like nothing was wrong. Like Han’s son simply didn’t exist, was dead, or would be coming back - whatever was easier to process in the moment. Leia buried herself into work with a fervor Chewie had never seen, watching in dismay as his family began to drift further apart.

And then there was that smile. That soft smile that crinkled the skin by Ben’s eyes as he looked down to Rey, promising her a softer forever than he himself had any right to. And despite it all, Chewie wanted to believe it. Hating himself for it, Chewbacca wanted to believe that Han Solo’s son could find a way to be happy in a quiet life with Rey and their children.

If anyone had asked Poe Dameron if he ever planned to raise a glass with Kylo Ren, he would have broken their jaw just for having the nerve. It was hard not to though, when the asshole looked so damn pleased just to stand next to Rey during their little afterparty.

There were gifts, of course. One doesn’t come to these sorts of things without them, and Leia seemed to be making up for lost time in spoiling the couple - regardless of how many times Rey protested that they simply didn’t need all this. And Kylo had quietly set Rey up in a comfortable chair, bringing her the wrapped parcels one at a time. Poe had seen barghests and hounds with less pathetically obvious devotion. He’d have to stop teasing Finn about being wrapped around Rose’s little finger - Rey barely had time to notice her glass was getting low before Kylo filled it again.

“Not what you expected either?” Finn’s voice was low and to the side.

“Still hate him.” Poe snorted, lifting his glass and emptying it in a quick swallow.

“Feeling’s mutual.” If anything, watching the domesticity made Finn more angry with the former Supreme Leader. If the leaders of the First Order were capable of such tenderness, where the hell had it been during Finn’s life - when he was only a few letters and numbers without a name.

“She’s happy though.” Poe finally spoke, with a begrudging tone and Finn nodded. They didn’t have to like it. They didn’t like it. But for Rey’s sake, they had to support it. At least unless the brat returned to the Kylo Ren that they knew.

If Rey heard the murmured conversation, she gave no sign of it. The wounds created by the First Order, and by Kylo Ren, were poorly healed and would take time to recover. Meanwhile, the growing children demanded Rey be uncharacteristically selfish. She had to take care of herself, to accept Ben’s doting and for once wasn’t hurrying to run ahead. His fingers sliding over her hair - the precious veil tucked aside for the next generation - felt warm as sunshine.

“Rose, is this…?” Rey couldn’t hold back a shameless giggle as she revealed the box hidden by colorful wrapping paper. The paper itself was wadded into a ball and tossed gently to the ground, where the porgs began to peck at it. Trilling as they bounced and waddled after it while it rolled again.

“Yup! The new mod kit we were talking about before you left. It’s technically for the newer models but I figured we could retrofit it to the Falcon. Plus, I met a guy during one of the last missions - this is one of the deluxe editions. We could use it to program the ship speakers to blast dance music, or lullabies.” Rose’s smile was as wide and infectious as her friend’s.

Picking out a wedding gift for General Organa’s daughter-in-law and Kylo Ren’s bride had been difficult at first. Nothing seemed good enough for the former, and she kept coming up empty when thinking about the latter. Nothing that was usual seemed to quite fit the bill. Finn, a little surprisingly, was the one who reminded her that the gift was for Rey. After that, it was simple.

“Fantastic!”

Ben admired the way her green eyes lit up, how her smile seemed larger than life. Thinking about her working on the Falcon was strange, uncomfortable. He’d never escape from the damn ship. Sighing in resignation, he shook his head and exchanged the unwrapped parcel for another. Anything to make her happy, keep her laughing. Including biting a raw spot on his cheek to make sure he didn’t say anything that would start a fight and ruin the day for her.

“This one’s from me.” Finn spoke up, quickly crossing the floor with a grin. “Well, from all of us but I came up with the idea.”

“And you’re sure fast to take the credit, buddy.” Poe smirked openly, seemingly indifferent but also sliding in closer to see how she reacted.

The box itself was nondescript, once deprived of its celebratory wrapping and bows. A simple brown gift box, the sort you’d buy at any number of stores throughout the galaxy. Once Rey removed the lid, her lips curved into an amused smile.

“Sand?” Lifting the container, Rey held it up to the light. It was a lovely piece in and of itself, a clear crystal orb with veins of gold, silver and copper running through. Small enough to fit in the palm of her hand and completely sealed, it was filled with sand with just enough empty space that she could watch the grains tumble about.

“From Jakku. So you’ll always have a bit of home.” Her first friend rubbed the back of his neck, watching her eyes. Rey was either going to love this or hate it. Finn was fairly certain she’d love it, but still. It hadn’t exactly been easy to get on short notice but Poe could get his hands on anything with a proper fire under his ass.

“Oh…” Rey’s voice trailed off, cupping the orb with both hands now. Home, her first home. Where she last saw Mother and Father, where she’d been born and they’d protected her from Grandfather. With tears in her eyes, Rey looked up to the three of them. “Thank you… so much.”

“Thank you.”

Every head in the room turned to Ben when he spoke. Apart from his vows, Ben had been exceptionally quiet. Creepily so, to Rey’s three friends. Now, the only two words he’d spoken carried the weight of the world. Especially as he took the gift with such care, making sure to place it on a nearby mantle where it would be safe.

He couldn’t say he particularly cared for the thing, but Ben well understood the desire for relics of one’s past. Brushing his thumb lightly over the crystal surface, he wondered briefly if her parents would have approved of him. He’d have courted her relentlessly no matter what, but it was oddly warming to think they might have. A pleasant thought to consider as Ben made his way back slowly, watching his newly appointed wife open yet another gift from Mother.

#reylo #reylo fanfic #fluff and angst and smut #reylo smut #angst with a happy ending #unplanned pregnancy #reunite the dyad #redeemed ben solo #star wars fanfic #fluff and smut #happily ever after #general leia #ao3 link #ao3 fanfic

1 note · View note

sweetdreamsbuck · 2 years

Note

Congratulations again, my love! I thought I’d pop in and make a request!

Number 12 on list two with our boy, Buck… in any style of writing you’d like! ⛄️

snowfall, softly

beefy lumberjack!bucky x f!reader

warnings: EXTREME FLUFF! beefy lumberjack!bucky is a damn warning discretion advised. suggestive language

prompt: 12. tucking their hands into the other's pockets (bella baby, thank you for choosing this prompt i was hoping someone did xo) listen to 'Snowfall' by Tony Bennett while reading this xx

join in on my holiday season & 1k+ sleepover!

a/n: i don't really know what this is. but i'll be writing way more for beefy!lumberjack bucky because i'm in love with him and i've developed an unhealthy obsession and au surrounding him so yes this is for a fic prompt but also not at ALL lmao. i literally have a two page doc just talking about random ideas about him soooo enjoy xo. this isn't well edited, all mistakes are my own

There's nothing quite like color in the winter. Every vivid tone and each dull hue— all the pigments the earth had to offer seeming to blend together, finally at peace after a day of being overshadowed by the fervor of the sun.

Nature is theatrical like that and you always admired it for all its arrogance. Competing all day long for the spotlight, colors coming and going as the world kept turning; the sun boasting, its rays shone defiantly against each and every reflective surface in hopes of finding its match. It never seems to.

The colors of winter always pulled you in, but it wasn't until recent you learned just how mesmerizing those colors could be.

Watching Bucky return home, trudging his heavy boots through packed and dense trails of snow, his tools and heavy garments appearing featherlight after a long day of working in the lumberyard— although you know all too well the stress and weight that he carries from them.

It's a sight you never can seem to get enough of. A vision full of new hues, all singing and dancing around in the intoxicating aura of Bucky.

Bright and lively and full of unspoken sadness— the winter sun, working hard to keep the earth warm enough to see another day. There's a serenity and a strong calmness, glowing in a soft cast against the fields of snow covered trees. Bucky seems at peace there, brilliantly on display. They share a common likeness after all.

The flush of his rosy cheeks after a day of facing the unforgiving sun in the unbearable cold always manages to fill your heart with such warmth. Even the sun seems to be captivated by him.

Your giant of a man, angelic and tinted with the pinkest of pinks— the picture of frosted beauty. An intimate portrait of the man you've quickly come to love.

The winter brings a fresh new meaning to understanding Bucky. Getting to know who he was the last few months had been a dream, but you never could've been prepared to see him in this thrilling light.

A man of consistency, Bucky's routine is always the same: wake up, go to work, send you pictures that make him think of you accompanied by sweet messages throughout the day, come home to his shed and spend some time decompressing while working on only god knows what, then come inside to spend the rest of his day with you. But in the winter, beautiful new additions seem to bloom sprightly even in the chill of the darkest months.

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

You'd met in the spring at the opening of a quaint new bookstore in the middle of town. His timid smile, broad shoulders, tussled locks, and dark spicy scented stature warmed your heart even there in the quickly warming spring months. An accidental slip of footing granted the moment when you tripped on an overturned rug and found yourself crashing hard into the arms of a man you'd just scolded yourself for ogling over. Your hands had quickly found themselves catching the pockets of his windbreaker, the speed of your fall causing you to frantically try and grasp onto the first thing you could find. His pockets. You wouldn't have known it then, but that was the first moment he ever felt his heart throb erratically in his chest at the sight of you. His usually brooding and towering frame scaring anyone in his immediate path, but not you. You couldn't help but cling to him— albeit being mostly to stop you from face planting— but the smile you awarded him when meeting his eyes to thank him for saving you from your embarrassment caused a color to awake in him like he never knew before. And a new action to yearn for— you clinging to him from the pockets of whatever he was wearing.

A few dates in, you'd learned everything and anything— yet not enough about the man you found yourself head over heels for. You'd learned that when his dad died, his father had passed down the only thing he owned; instructing only that Bucky could do whatever he wanted with the lumberyard and miles and miles of forest, as long as he kept the family business alive. So Bucky had built himself a small cabin and a work shed in the seclusion of his vastly wide ocean of trees and far spreading hills. His very own bittersweet little world inside the forest floor. One you've since learned to find the utmost comfort and security in after meeting Bucky that unforgettable spring day.

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

Some new things had been recently added to his usual routine. Now he'd bring home fresh wood for the fireplace he'd built that was nestled cutely between layers of a brick wall. Bucky would walk through the door carrying deliciously aromatic cinnamon-scented pies that the sweet patrons of the yard had supplied him with as a token of their thanks for his hard work; helping keep the people of the town warm throughout the winter spell. He'd come home bundled in the softest fabrics, ones that made him look large and ethereal even through the chips of wood and grime that messily cling to them. He brings home sweet stories of animals he'd encountered and how he wished you could've seen them instead of just through his videos and pictures, running and wrestling around in the tops of trees he didn't have the heart to chop down.

All of these saccharinely sweet qualities of Bucky thawed your winter chill more and more each time he'd come home. But there was no preparing your heart for just how colorful he seemed to be in the especially frozen months— not for how he melted at your feet every chance he got to see you waiting for him with a mug of some warm drink, wrapped in his flannels and blankets inside of the cabin he built only ever intended for himself.

He'd take you in his arms, kissing you senseless until the cold tips of his nose and scruffy cheeks had been entirely warmed by the heat of your thawing touch and soft, loving embrace. Sometimes, he'd be so unable to help himself, clawing and desperately moving to shed you of the huge articles of clothing you had on. Seeing you wearing his clothing, completely surrounded by him and this little world he'd built for himself made something primal and protective rip through him; his need for you growing stronger and stronger by each day.

In the winter, the sun glistens in quiet repose, evident in shades of pinks and purples, dark and light all alike as the clock ticks 4:46pm, a time where the earth seems to thank her inhabitants for living another day— and that's when she works her winter magic.

And it happened like clockwork— soft tuffs of white slowly falling seemingly from nowhere and everywhere at once. It quickly became your favorite type of moment to live in as you watched and waited from the small window of Bucky's cabin. One where the sun bows along the earth's curtain line, a floor full of pine and shimmering frost, her fading light finally dimming for a brief nightfall while allowing for a reprieve. A picture perfect snow-globe you only ever hoped to live inside again and again. And it paints Bucky in the most gorgeous of light. Today no different.

You watched quietly as his towering figure pulled his black pickup into the long and winding path of a nonexistent driveway. The lines of his face looking defined and hard even from yards away; evidence of his tiring day spent miles into the forest floor finally revealing itself. You watched with a cup of earl grey perched delicately between your fingers as his chest puffed in and out slowly. Exhaling the stress and soreness of his day, turning the key in his ignition off, pulling it out just as briskly to exit the car being swallowed in light snowfall.

A smile, already ghosting your features, watching the snow continue to fall around him. He was a marvel; something of fiction— you were sure of it. His radiance shone proudly through the impending darkness of the December evening, color and light clinging to to him like a flannel clad pedestal, only ever meant to be adored by the last bouts of sun. It softly drifted around him, on him, surrounding him wholly with the most precious and tender care. The snow dancing along his features, melting and sticking to him, enamored by him.

He shuffles around the back of his truck, pulling out a broken axe and two tightly wrapped stacks of wood. He's only just beginning his evening duties, off to tinker and toy after whatever hobby he's recently become obsessed with through the beginnings of the fallen snow. You chuckle breathlessly watching as he smiles and tucks pieces of hair behind his right ear, the snow starting to come down harder causing his hair to crowd his line of sight. He was so stunning, all in his own little quiet world.

And there's such quiet to be had in the loudness of the falling snow.

He didn't know it, but these were your favorite moments to share with him. He was blissfully unaware of your gaze on him. All of his problems; any troubles from his tiring day pushed to the furthest parts of his mind. Just him and the season that seemed to crave him; wrapping its arms around him fully and entirely. Just in the way you did— day and night, again and again and again.

The way that his coat seemed to cling to him today made your heart beat wildly in your chest. You couldn't help but miss clinging to him like that, too.

To feel jealous of a damn coat. That's what this man has reduced you to.

You hadn't heard from him much today, he accidentally left his phone home. You had received a frantic call from Sam's number, Bucky on the other end stumbling and stammering more quickly than you'd ever heard him. He was clearly very upset, no way to comfort him through the phone although he was only a few miles away deep inside the forest. You giggled at him as he explained his worry; he didn't give your sleeping form a kiss this morning because he was running late and didn't want to wake you, he didn't have time to make you a pot of coffee like he always did, he forgot to put his lucky undershirt on, then he'd left his phone home in his haste and regretted every decision he had made that morning deeply, starting with not kissing you. God— if you weren't absolutely smitten with his ridiculous antics and need to love you.

Missing him while he was at work wasn't something uncommon to you. You often found yourself sending him sweet messages— sexy ones, with pictures you'd spent a bit of time perfecting your poses for, when you were feeling particularly needy— but today was different. And he just looked so beautiful surrounded by the snow, surrounded by the coat you so desperately wished was you.

Placing your tea down on the end table and standing a bit too quickly, the room going fuzzy for a brief moment as your blood returns to a calm pace, you make your way to the hooks hanging near the front door. Putting on one of his big green and brown checkered flannels, you make sure to button it all the way up just like he showed you; always so concerned that your chest or neck being exposed would give his 'little bunny a chest cold'; you reach, grabbing for the remaining corduroy jacket that you can't help but bring to your nose for a brief second. It smells of pine and lavender and vanilla, a scent entirely that Bucky owned. Quickly looking down you see you're dressed in a pair of his thick socks, smiling at how they bunch around the ankles of your jeans. You stuff your feet into a pair of worn out boots and decide to welcome him home with some tea. He deserves it after a day such as the one he dramatically has had. You quickly head over to the kitchen, grabbing your your cream colored beanie with matching gloves that you left there from earlier, and pour a quick cup of tea for Bucky.

Opening the front door was a challenge; between the thick gloves you wore, your need to see him, and the warm mug in your left hand; but you finally managed to jiggle the knob enough to slowly open. Quickly hit by an air of frosted snow, you shiver and bring the warm cup closer to you. The drink already losing its heat to the harsh chill of the wind and snow frantically swirling around you as you step down the stairs of the porch.

He hasn't spotted you yet and you're thankful, wanting to selfishly watch him living in his little world a little bit longer. Slowly and carefully, you take a little detour to make your way to him, hoping to completely surprise him altogether. You walk towards where your car is parked, hoping the vehicle will shield you from your scarily perceptive and all-knowing boyfriend.

Walking past your car you notice the layer of snow on your windshield seems obstructed in its falling, sticking around bumps and lines you know shouldn't be there. Completely forgetting of your plan to surprise Bucky, your curious mind gets the best of you and leads you straight into his line of sight, around to the other side of the car.

The snow, still fresh and still falling, had the most precise tracks of what could only be Bucky's thick fingers— traced words into a layer of white that read 'I love you'. The snow, unaware of the love you felt for him causing your heart to skip almost an entire three beats, disregarded your feelings and began filling in the now faint divots of the precious letters he'd left, just for you. When did he do that? Your eyes water slightly and a smile tugs at your lips but does nothing to show the way he makes your heart sing.

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

He'd been watching you too, just as you were perched in your little chair from your favorite window of the cabin. Bucky always loved knowing you sat there watching him as he came home from a long day. It made him feel loved— you made him feel like something worth fawning over. Unlike his last version of 'love'; it left him with a gigantic hole in his heart, one he never intended on allowing someone into again. But meeting you; with your damn hands that always needed to be in the pockets of his jacket; whose smile transformed every room you entered; whose eyes surpassed the glimmer of each and every star he'd ever gazed at; ignited a newfound glow in him, one that turned his life upside down and proved his pain wrong.

He saw you watching him with a content smile on your face, with a sparkle in your eye he could recognize from miles away; the kind that made his palms grow clammy and his face to heat up in a pink glow. He could feel evidence of it in his cheeks so he kept his eyes diverted from the window, hoping you hadn't caught him daydreaming about you. Maybe you'd just thought he got lost in his thoughts.

He huffed loudly in the small confines of his truck and smiled to himself, thankful for the cold; at least it would shield his burning desire and love for you just a little longer until he went inside.

He had wondered if you knew just how much he thought of you, just how much everything he did was with the desire to give you everything and anything needed to drown you in the knowledge of his love for you forever. Exiting his car and moving all of his things to his shed, he saw you left your spot inside the frosted view of the window.

As the snow began to crowd and overwhelm him, he thought of leaving a sweet message for you to see tomorrow before you left for work, hopefully making up for his guilt for the awful morning he'd had. Leaving you without giving you a kiss was the worst thing that had ever happened to him, he'd decided. And hopefully, the snow would fall roughly enough, caging you both inside the cozy cabin tomorrow, enough to cause you to have to stay home wrapped tightly around him in bed while he showered you in kisses and his undying affection. But for now, he'd write of his love in the snow of your windshield.

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

"Bunny, what are you doing out here? It's freezing you'll get si—" he trails off, taking in your adorable appearance. His face beaming with something you're unsure of— just truly happy you finally took his advice to wear his winter gear.

Bucky always told you that the clothes you had weren't good enough, his 'little bunny would freeze to death' if she didn't put on one of his flannels or heavy coats every time she left the house. It made no sense to you, your own sherpa lined jackets and thick thermals always were enough to shield you from the cold. But how could you resist him when he whined so sweetly, looking so concerned and worried for you?

Making your way closer to him, you hold the earl grey out towards him with a smirk, your eyes playful and light at the sight of his content glow. He takes the tea from your hand and downs it in two big gulps, never breaking eye contact and throws the cup somewhere next to him. Immediately taking you into his arms, spinning you around beneath the falling snow, and dipping you into a passionate kiss.

Giggling against his lips at his dramatics, you wrap your arms underneath the flaps of his jacket, tracing your hands around and trailing up the thickness of his neck, pulling him in closer— as close as his body can get through the layers of thick fabric you both wear. His mouth lifts in a gentle smile against yours at your action, his pillowy lips encasing yours in a way only he knows how. It causes your brain to fog and your heart to increasingly thump in time with the rapidly falling snow. The sea of white capturing you both in a snow-globe Hallmark movie-type moment— those movies pathetically paling in comparison to the vision of the two of you, completely enthralled in each other's presence.

Time still moves; the air, still chill; the snow, still rapidly producing and falling in the same breath— but the feeling of the kiss wipes the earth of everything, leaving only you and Bucky inside the whispers of the falling snow.

Your hands quickly find their favorite spot inside the pockets of his jacket as you deepen the kiss further, your tongues moving against each other as you hold him to you. Dragging him towards you from that part of his body makes you feel secure, there's no real explanation as to why. It's just something you found necessary in showing him you loved him. Leaning into him, pulling him towards you, it let him know you needed him in only a way he could provide. You'd let him wear you if he asked, truly.

You feel him smile into the kiss as your hands wind themselves deeper into the fabric of his jacket, pulling at the fabric for all the give it will allow. It always causes him to stumble a bit in awe— the way you always cling to him, pulling him securely and flush against you.

Why wouldn't he try, too? Surely you should know how good it feels to be needed in such a way.

You feel his hands make their way down your back and push up the fabric of his huge jacket that was suffocating your frame. He smoothes his hands over the fabric of his flannel you're wearing and slowly tries to move his hands into the back pockets of your jeans. He moves all of one centimeter down the globes of your ass and his fingers already have seemed to meet the bottom of the seam.

His frustration grows clearly evident in the kiss, his lips slow as he keeps attempting to get his hands to fit in the pockets, cramping and bending them every which way in hopes of finding a successful angle.

"What do you think you're doing, Bucky? Hmm?" you tease, trailing your lips down the side of his jaw as he tries one last time to shove his hands into the back pockets of your jeans. He flushes a deep red at you catching him, his plan meant to be smooth and undetectable, crumbling under the heat of your quick smirk and sharp gaze.

"You always do that thing with my pockets... it's my favorite," he blushes, his confession being something he never thought he'd admit to you. "Just wanted to try it, too..."

You laugh and pepper teasing kisses all over his cherub-like face, the snow mixing in with the soft actions of your lips causing him to whine through his giggles and attempting to move away from your mouth. Your hands fastened tightly in his jacket pockets keep him close to your unrelenting joyful torture. Slowing your kisses and giving him a moment to breathe, you chuckle, "Your hands are just so big baby. They'll barely fit!"

A smirk grows along his pink cheeks, his eyes shimmering with the dark color of something you normally only get to see behind closed doors. Never out in the open— not with the season that seems to worship Bucky. His lips make their way gently across your jaw, humming as he finally explores the skin for the first time that day. "Mmmm, sounds like what you said the first time you let me touch you, isn't that right bunny? But what happened after that? I think my hands are just the right size..." he lowly whispers, his voice dropping into that rasp you love. His lips continue to tease along the skin of your jaw and down the side of your neck exposed to him, his hushed words being delivered into the delicate skin just under your ear.

You feel your body shiver even through the layers of warmth from both your heavy clothing and Bucky, and he chuckles darkly, continuing to press hot kisses along your skin as his nose nuzzles underneath your clothing creating a path for his lips to follow.

"Bucky..." you breathe out. His lips on your neck and the sight of him in the middle of the fallen snow, only paying attention to you and none of the fast paced world around you both, causes an indescribable feeling to spread through you. His colors, even in the dark of the night, gripping and pointedly beautiful— the most gorgeous winter mural you could ever find yourself entranced by.

"Okay but seriously, why would they put pockets in these damn things right over my favorite ass if they weren't meant for me to be grabbing in 'em? Only way my hands will keep warm. And you want me to be warm, right bunny?" he innocently asks through his smug grin, leaving a sharp slap at your left cheek, his hands moving to attempt to slide back into the comically small pockets. This time, he lets out a loud laugh. This attempt of shoving his hands into your pockets even funnier than the first time.

You gasp at his unexpected slap and shove your arms further into his pockets as far as they can go, pulling him in closer and crashing your lips into his. He uses this as an excuse to pull you off of the ground and further up his body, his hands kneading the rounds of your ass through the pockets of your jeans as you wrap your legs around him, pulling him closer to you through your kiss. Thank god he was a giant, you've never gotten to share such intimacy with someone before, and certainly not someone like him— someone as strong yet so soft, so endearing and so playful.

He moans feeling your hips rock softly against his as he begins walking to carry you back towards the cabin. He sloppily trails kisses down the side of your face and to the crook of your neck, softly moaning with every other step that sends your hips softly bouncing on his.

"Alright, come on my little snow bunny," he huffs out through a quick last kiss on your jaw. "We gotta go get my girl real warmed up," he croons, his voice dropping into that low grovel you love. "And you know I always make them fit..."

He nibbles and softly sucks on the skin under your ear until you're giggling and trying to move away from him, but your hands stuck securely in the pockets of his coat nestled tightly between your bodies prevents you from going anywhere. He laughs brightly at your struggle against him through your fits of giggles. Dropping a kiss to the side of your temple he whispers, "I love you so much, bunny."

#bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes #bucky x f!reader #bucky #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan #bucky x reader #bucky fic #marvel fluff #marvel #bucky fanfic

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minaturefics · 2 years

Text

Grazes

Request: Greetings! I was wondering if you would mind writing a Faramir x femreader where Faramir tries to teach the reader how to use a bow and arrow, and she accidentally hits him with an arrow. Maybe some sort of romance or fluff? Thank you!

A/N: Hello hello! Thank you for waiting. This is probably a bit archery and medically inaccurate, but I hope you enjoy it all the same! 😊

Faramir x Reader

Fem reader

Content warnings: Mild descriptions of blood and wound cleaning

2.7k words

---

You stood in a beam of sunlight, turning your face up and relishing the afternoon rays. The small garden outside the Steward’s House was bathed in the yellow light. Lavender and lilies perfumed the air with their heady scents. It was quiet, save for the rustle of the short trees and the distant call of the birds. The sun warmed you through your thin tunic and trousers, and a thin sheen of sweat formed on your skin.

You paced the small green area, tugging at the hems of your clothes. Where was Faramir? Was arriving early a mistake? Perhaps it made you seem too eager to see him. You paused by the plain stone bench, took one last furtive look at the closed oak door, and sat down. The stone was cool and smooth under your fingers, and you stroked the bench, thinking of him.

It had only been a fortnight ago when you found yourself sitting next to him, on the same very bench, when he had suggested an archery lesson. You had been wandering through the Citadel, exploring the long hallways and peering through doors, when you had come across the tranquil garden. The grass was green and soft, and the smell of freshly shorn grass was in the air. You sat on the bench, admiring the vivid flowers, when a large door opened and Faramir stepped out.

You had seen him before, across candlelit dinner tables and in the dim of the reading alcoves in the library, but never like he had been in the evening light. His light brown hair had been touched with gold, his grey eyes bright and sharp. He smiled at you as he approached, his eyes crinking in the corners and head ducked a fraction in shyness, and your heart had lurched in your chest.

Faramir had always been a friend — an easy partner to converse with at stuffy celebrations, a spirited counterpart to debate books and poetry with — but it seemed everything had come undone in that moment.

For the past two weeks, you had stolen glances at him from above your books, had cajoled him into reading passages out to you.

You thought of his hands, large and steady, thumbing through the thin pages. Of his voice, warm and deep and gentle, echoing softly in the quiet of the library. Of his faint scent of soap and musk, mingling with the paper and leather of the books.

You sighed and leaned back, staring up at the blue sky. Did Faramir know your feelings towards him had changed? And if he did, was he disgusted or pleased? You glanced down at your hands. Perhaps you were too plain for him, too common for a Steward. How could you compare to the other nobles in court, most of them dressed in finer silks and had larger jewels.

Faramir never seemed to care about such things, but perhaps when it came to a partner he would be more concerned?

The groan of a heavy door drew you out of your thoughts, and you turned to see Faramir stepping out into the light with two bows slung on his shoulder. You traced the line of his figure, up his strong legs and to his broad shoulders. A smile played about his lips and you grinned at him.

“Faramir,” you called, and rose to your feet.

“Apologies for my tardiness, I was searching for these bows.” He shifted to show them to you.

“They look smaller than regular bows,” you muttered, running your hand over the curved wood.

He chuckled. “Yes, these were mine and Boromir’s when we were younger. They are not as powerful as a full bow, but they will be easier to draw.”

Your chest warmed at his words. How like Faramir to be considerate about such things. “Shall we go? You will have to lead I’m afraid. I am not familiar with the way to the training grounds.”

He lifted his arm, hesitating for a moment, and offered it to you. You threaded your arm though his, resting your hand on his forearm, and willed your heart to slow.

Faramir glanced back at you from where he stood on the open field. You were standing in the shade of a tree inspecting the bows. As though sensing his eyes, you looked up and smiled at him. His stomach clenched and he turned away, wondering why he thought it might have been a good idea to spend the afternoon with you.

It had been a moment of weakness in the garden, so enraptured by the way the sun looked in your hair and how the blue sky was reflected in your eyes, that the words tumbled from his lips before he could stop them. For a few terrible seconds, he had been worried you would turn him down but you had lit up and agreed.

What could have motivated him to suggest such a thing? Perhaps it was the way he would catch you looking at some of the guards, your eyes lingering on their well-built forms. Or maybe it was because he realised you only ever saw him when he was bent over a desk or curled up with a book, and had never seen him with a blade or bow.

But now that you were outside with him, dressed in a tunic and trousers that hinted at more of your figure than your usual clothes did, he felt as though he would hardly be able to contain his feelings. But who could fault him? There was no one more captivating than you in all of Middle-Earth.

Your eyes were always bright with mirth, your laughter melodic and joyful. You were incandescent in your finest silks at dinner, outshining even Queen Arwen in his eyes. Your mind was sharp, your tongue even more so, and none of his advisors could match the way you debated books with him.

He did not know when he started to view you in a different light; his heart was lost to you before he even realised what had happened.

But could you return his love, or did you prefer the more robust and lively soldiers and guards that he sometimes saw you sharing a laugh with? He was more of a scholar than a fighter, more thoughtful and ponderous than spirited and spontaneous.

He straightened the round, straw target and took a breath. It was his chance to show you his quality, that he was more than the books and parchments.

He strode up to you and picked up one of the bows. It had been Boromir’s and he traced the crude initial carved into the wood. How his brother would laugh if he saw Faramir now, doing his best to win the affection of the one who held his heart.

“I shall shoot first.” He smiled at you and you grinned back. “Just as a demonstration.”

Armed with an arrow, he steadied his stance. His heart thundered in his chest, his hands grew clammy on the bow. He took a breath and relaxed his shoulders. There was no need to be nervous. It was just a target some twenty paces away, and he had always been one of the best archers in his company.

He drew the arrow back, the string digging into the calloused pads of his fingers, and let it fly. It flew straight and true, and landed in the centre of the target. You let out a small exclamation and beamed at him.

“Very impressive.” You came up to his side and looked at the target. “I have always heard that you were a good archer, though to see it with my own eyes is certainly something else.”

His chest warmed and he felt a smile tugging at his lips. He fought down the boyish glee that rose in him and he kept his eyes fixed on the target. “Would you like to try?”

You glanced at him and looked down at the bow in your hands, running your fingers over the faded writing on the wood. “Was this yours?”

He nodded. “It’s a good bow, well made, and still well maintained after all these years.”

“Will I… I do not wish to damage it.”

“Do not worry yourself over such a thing.” He smiled and nudged your hand upwards. “Here. Keep your back straight and your legs slightly apart and your feet planted.” You raised your arm and tried to mirror his stance. “Draw the string back, and mind how close your arm and face are to the bow.”

He watched you as you tested the string. You pulled it back, nearly as far back as it should be, but your arms began to quiver. You dropped your arms to your sides. “That takes incredible strength. I cannot imagine what it would be like to shoot a full sized bow.”

“Would you like to try with an arrow?”

You glanced back at the quiver resting against the tree. “Would that be wise? Or safe?”

“It will be alright.” He went to retrieve an arrow and handed it to you. “You pull back on the fletching, just like that, between your fingers.”

You adjusted your fingers and knocked the arrow to the bow. Faramir stepped to the side, watching your form. You drew the string back, but as you did so, the arrow slipped off its resting place on your fist and slid sideways. You lurched, trying to recover it, fumbling with the bow and arrow.

There was the dull twang of the string, and he felt searing pain in his calf. He glanced down and found blood blooming on the side of his leg, his trousers ripped where the arrow had grazed him.

You rushed to Faramir’s side, kneeling by his leg, your hands hovering uselessly over the wound. The blood trickled sluggishly, and the flesh was red and raw. It did not look overly serious, but what would he think of you now? A fool who could not even handle something as simple as a training bow. He lowered himself to the ground, hissing, and peered at his leg.

“We need to get you to the Houses of Healing.” You stared at the wound, wondering if it would be better to put pressure on it or leave it as it was.

“It is only a small graze,” he muttered. “There is no need for that.”

You blinked at him. “You cannot be serious. It may not be deep or large but it can still get infected.”

“I have some healing salves and bandages in my rooms. Those will suffice for something like this. There is no need to trouble the matrons.”

You opened your mouth then snapped it shut. Would it do any good arguing with him? Faramir was not an unreasonable man, and had probably seen more battle wounds than you had. If he believed it was not worthy of a trip to the Houses of Healing, then perhaps it would be best to trust and aid him, instead of opposing.

“Then let me help you back to your rooms.” He nodded, his lips pulled back in a grimace. You retried the bows and arrows, and slung them over your shoulder. You crouched by him and offered your other shoulder. “Here, I’ll help you stand.”

You felt him hesitate, his arm lingering just above your back, before it came to rest across it. You tucked him into your side, your arm wrapping around his waist. He was warm, so warm, pressed up against you. Even his fingers, curled around your shoulder, felt like fire through your thin tunic. You felt your cheeks reddening, and hoped that Faramir would not pay too close attention to your face.

The walk back to his rooms was not long, and thankfully, there were few people around. Most of their concerned queries were waved away by Faramir with an easy smile. He led to the spacious sitting room in the Steward’s House, and dropped into a cushioned chair.

“I can attend to myself if you would be so good as to retrieve the medical supplies for me.” He gave you a rueful smile, his grey eyes soft. “I am sorry today has turned out so.”

You knelt by him. “Faramir, if there is anyone to apologise it is me. And I am not leaving you to tend to yourself when I am the one who has caused you such hurt.”

He blinked at you and glanced away, pink dusting his cheeks. “I suppose it would be foolish to turn down the offer of having such a beautiful lady tend to me.”

Beautiful? He thought you were beautiful? Your eyes dropped to your hands resting on the chair. You suddenly became aware of how close you were to him. You could feel the heat coming off him, hear his quiet breaths. You inhaled his scent of musk and faint soap. Faramir shifted in his seat and you glanced up at him. A small line appeared between his brows, hesitation in his eyes, as though he was concerned he had said the wrong thing.

“Where are the supplies?” you asked, feigning a bright tone.

“The bandages and salves are over in the box on the shelf. There is a wash basin and a pitcher of water in the next room.”

You gathered the items and returned to his side. Faramir had rolled the hem of his trousers up, and was inspecting the wound. He leaned his leg over the small basin, and hissed as you poured the cool water over it. With a clean cloth, you dabbed away the more stubborn lines of dried blood and dirt. While you changed the water, Faramir unravelled the bandages and laid them out for you. You curled a hand around his calf, and began to apply the pungent salve.

“Your hands are certainly much more gentle than the healers,” he muttered.

“You flatter me. My hands are untrained.” You smoothed out the salve and wiped your hands on a cloth. “Watch as I struggle to tie this bandage well.”

You wrapped the bandage, adjusting it to make it tight enough, and tied it off with a crude knot. You washed your hands and peered up at Faramir. His grey eyes were gentle, his lips creeping up into a smile. “How can I thank you for such tender care?”

“Forgive me, for hurting you. I was careless.”

His fingers tentatively ghosted your cheek. “There is nothing to forgive.” You leaned into his touch, and felt him let out a breath. “If anything, it was of my doing.”

“How so?” You rested a hand on his arm, your fingers tracing idle patterns on his skin.

“I will admit to wishing to impress you.”

“Impress me? Whatever for?”

He stiffened. “Is it not already plain?”

Your heart drummed in your chest and a grin broke out on your face. “Faramir, there is no need for such things. I am taken in by you enough as it is.”

“I was afraid you found me too bookish, too boring.” He stroked the line of your cheekbone with his thumb.

“And I was afraid you would find me lacking compared to the other nobility.”

“No,” he whispered and drew you towards him. “You are everything I could hope for, everything I could want.”

He ducked his head and pressed his lips to yours. His lips were soft and gentle. You breathed him in, filling your lungs with his familiar scent. You felt him smile against your lips, and laughter bubbled in your chest. He drew back, his grey eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“Perhaps,” you murmured. “No more archery lessons.”

He chuckled, bright and merry. “I would be willing to try again if you are.”

“I am more willing to spend an afternoon with you in the library. Though, I will happily watch you shoot whenever you wish.”

“Perhaps the next time I am practising with my company you should come watch us. But I will admit to some jealously. My men are fit, and most of them pleasing to the eye.”

You laughed and kissed his cheek. “Even so, you are the only one who can draw my gaze. Has no one ever told you how handsome you are?”

“Perhaps a few,” he mused. “But Boromir was always more popular than I was.”

“Then I shall tell you again and again, every day you are by my side.”

He arched an eyebrow, grinning. “Every day?”

You rested your forehead against his, returning his smile. “Every day.”

#faramir #lotr #faramir x you #faramir x reader #faramir x y/n #lotr fic #lotr fanfic #request

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kingexpl0sionmurder · 3 years

Text

Mutual Misunderstandings - Kirishima Eijirou - Smut

Author: @kingexpl0sionmurder Pairing: Kirishima Eijirou / F!Reader Rating: 18+ (Contains smut) Words: 5,866 Warnings: Quirkless AU, Aged up characters (they adulty adults!), unprotected vaginal sex, oral (male receiving), very very light choking, reader has a bit of a size kink. AN: Another entry for the BNHAREM collab! This time we’re writing roommates, and I somehow managed to snag Kirishima! I’m super excited for all of the fics coming this time around, so make sure you click on the link below and read some of the other submissions!

This is my first time writing Kirishima and I’m super nervous about it. I’ve always really loved him because he’s just the best boy and he’s so brave and strong and gentle and I just want to cuddle him into oblivion. I also firmly believe he’s going to be a huge tank of a man when he gets older and I’m going with that vision of him here.

Collab Masterlist is HERE My Masterlist is HERE Buy me a KoFi if you’re feeling froggy HERE

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You stood in your living room, your jaw hanging open, staring at him in shock. Kirishima had a similar look on his face, the two of you pointing at each other like that Spider-Man meme.

“You mean to tell me you’ve had a crush on me this whole time?” You finally choked out, blinking owlishly at your best friend and roommate. “I thought you liked Mina!”

Kirishima sputtered, shaking his head. “No way! She’s my friend, we’ve known each other since middle school, you know that.” He moved to cross his arms across his broad chest. “And anyway, there’s no way you like me, you have a crush on Bakugou!”

There was no way this was happening right now. “No! I don’t like Bakugou like that! He’s a pain in my fucking ass, and I think about murdering him on a daily basis.” Facepalming, you groaned. “Are we really this stupid?”

How did you end up here?

It started back in your first year of college.

The parties and the seemingly endless studying had become a comfortable routine for you. So what if you were sleep-deprived and living on cup noodles? You were getting your higher education and ready to tackle the real world head-on in just a few short years.

A pipe dream, but still.

You had your best friend Shinsou by your side and a customer loyalty card at the campus coffee shop and everything was right with the world. You’d even managed to get paired up with Hitoshi’s (sort of) boyfriend for an English project, which was a better outcome than what you could have hoped for, not having to work with some rando on something that would be a large chunk of your grade.

Kaminari had suggested that you work on it at his place with the promise of Doritos, and you agreed. Who were you to turn down snacks? Poor college students needed those cheese dusted carbs to survive.

The Upsilon Alpha fraternity was one of the best and most popular on campus, and at first, you found it almost laughable that Kaminari was a member. At first glance, he seemed like a total space cadet stoner who didn’t belong in college, much less as a member of such an esteemed frat. However, after getting to know him, you knew that he was most definitely all of those things, but he was also insanely smart when it counted and kept above average grades in his classes (except for math, but with him being a bisexual disaster human, it came with the territory).

You had made some decent progress on your project after about an hour. The outline was done, and you were discussing how you would be presenting it since you had a choice between a written essay or a PowerPoint presentation.

Without warning, the kitchen door flew open, the doorknob slamming into the wall behind it.

“Well, the quiet was nice while it lasted, huh?” Kaminari blinked, completely unfazed by the commotion, leaning back in his chair and eating a chip.

Your gaze flitted over to the man who was glaring at the two of you from the doorway, his hands shoved in his pockets. Blonde hair that looked so much like an explosion was sticking up in every direction on his head, and you felt his red eyes trained on you as he took in the room. “What are you doing, Dunceface?”

Kaminari didn’t answer right away, raising his eyebrow and grinning at the new arrival. “Hey, Kacchan.”

If the bulging vein in the man’s forehead was any indication, Kaminari had said the wrong thing. He opened his mouth, and you assumed it was to threaten your project partner, but he was interrupted by a hand on his shoulder from behind.

“Bakubro, be nice. Kami has company.”

The man that appeared beyond the angry pomeranian took your breath away. He was...big. Like, his shoulders were so wide you wondered how he was going to fit through the doorway. And he was tall, with spiked red hair making him look even taller, big red eyes and sharp teeth, and the most beautiful smile you’d ever laid eyes on.

Blonde and grumpy grumbled, moving aside to let giant and red into the room, who then turned that megawatt million-dollar smile on you, and you tried your best not to stare at his biceps or the way his shirt clung to his chest.

Was it hot in here all of a sudden?

“Hi! I’m Kirishima, and this ray of sunshine is Bakugou, we’re some of Kaminari’s frat brothers!” He held out his hand for you to shake, and you smiled up at him, taking his giant hand in yours. The size of his fingers sent your brain reeling, and you knew you needed to get yourself under control before you started moaning out loud in front of him.

“I’m Y/N, it’s nice to meet you! Kami and I are just working on an English project.” You explained, grinning back up at him, trying to keep the lust off of your face. You didn’t want to look like some kind of freak.

He took his hand back and crossed his arms over his chest. “Oh, you must be Shinsou’s friend! Kami told us you’d be coming over, I forgot about that.” He turned, watching as Bakugou slunk over to the fridge and opened the door. “Don’t let us bother you, we’re just grabbing some water before we head to the gym.”

Kaminari snorted. “Dude, if you get any beefier we’re going to need to remodel the doors so you can fit through them.”

Kirishima turned as red as his hair, glancing at you, before he grinned at his friend. “If I stop, no one will be able to bench press you and Sero at the same time at the next party.”

“Bro, that is my favorite party trick of yours.” He sat up straighter, looking forlorn at the thought of it not happening anymore. “Okay, fine, go to the gym.”

Bakugou grumbled from behind him something that sounded like “I could bench press four of you if I wanted to.”

“Of course you could, buddy.” Kirishima slung his arm over Bakugou’s shoulder. “Okay, we’re out of here. It was nice to meet you, Y/N. Good luck with your project!”

Bakugou grunted and shoved a water bottle at Kirishima, shrugging out from under his arm and leaving the room. Kirishima smiled at you when you said goodbye, hurrying after his sour-faced friend and leaving you and Kaminari to your work.

“Your housemates are...interesting.” You managed, still trying to wrap your head around the red-haired man.

Kaminari snorted. “Kirishima is the walking definition of sunshine, and Bakugou is...well, he takes some getting used to. But he’s not a bad guy.”

You just hummed, chewing on your pen absently. “Can he actually bench press you?”

“Fuck yeah. He does it one-handed. You should come to our next party and see for yourself.”

Keeping your face as neutral as possible, you nodded. “Maybe I can convince Shinsou to come with me.” Wiggling your eyebrows at Kaminari when he blushed, you turned back to the notebook that lay open in front of you. “Come on, let’s figure this out so we can talk more about your intentions with my best friend.”

You did show up to the next UA frat party, Shinsou in tow. Your purple-haired bestie was grumbling the whole way, his hands shoved in his pockets. It didn’t stop him from making fun of how short your skirt was and teasing you about how you’d done nothing but talk about Kirishima since the day you’d met him.

“He’s like Clifford the Big Red Dog, Y/N. Clumsy and adorable.”

“He’s definitely big. I’d like to climb him like a tree.” You linked your arm with his, walking up to the giant house, the windows already rattling with the bass pumping through the speakers inside.

“You’re disgusting. I am appalled and also proud to call you my best friend.” Sarcastic as usual, he let you drag him along without a fuss.

“That sounds about right.”

The party was in full swing, half the campus milling around inside the house with red plastic cups in hand. You found Kaminari almost immediately, shoving Shinsou towards him and making your way to the kitchen to find yourself a drink.

“Y/N!” Kirishima was in front of you almost immediately, giant cat eyes and his shark tooth smile lighting up the room. “Kami mentioned you might show up!”

Blushing, you nodded, suddenly losing the ability to form words. He was wearing a tank top, his arm muscles on display, and you took a moment to thank the Lord for the blessing before you.

“You want a drink?”

You realized you were staring, so you cleared your throat and smiled at him. “Yes, please.”

His large hand wrapped around your elbow gently as he tugged you through the crowd in the kitchen and out towards the back porch. You tried not to think about how your skin was burning under his touch. You needed to get a grip.

He got to work on the keg, pumping the handle on the top and grabbing you a cup, tilting it a bit as he filled it with beer.

“Hey, shitty hair! Beer pong!” You turned to see Bakugou standing on the other side of the large wooden deck, his arm resting on the shoulder of a tall and lanky brown-haired boy. “Sero here wants to break up the dream team! Find a partner!”

Kirishima chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, hang on!” He turned to you, handing you your drink. “So, you play beer pong?”

Bringing the cup to your lips, you tilted your head back and chugged your beer, wiping your mouth off with the back of your hand when you’d finished. Kirishima was staring at you with wide eyes, looking surprised but pleased. “Yeah. I’m better when I’m drunk, though.”

He held out his hand for the empty cup, moving to fill it up again, his grin never faltering. “Let’s go kick their asses.”

That was the beginning of your friendship with Kirishima. What had started as a crush on the red-haired man had turned into a companionship that you couldn’t ever see yourself without. That was why you never said a word about how you really felt.

As cliché as it was, you didn’t know how you’d survived without the guy. He was nothing short of amazing. He was a great listener, and he gave good advice. He was always there when you needed him, bringing you soup when you were sick, going on late-night snack runs when you were up all night studying for exams, showing up with chocolate and tampons when it was your time of the month.

Shinsou had always done those things for you, but he was spending a lot of time with his boyfriend now. You weren’t upset about it though, you thought they were the cutest and you didn’t want to third wheel their time together, so you hung out with Kirishima and Bakugou a lot more often.

As Kaminari had told you on that first day, Bakugou truly wasn’t a bad guy. His attitude got on your nerves though, and you envisioned punching him in the face at least four times a day, but you didn’t dislike him. He and Kirishima were best friends, so he was a part of the package, and you learned to deal with him.

So it was a no-brainer when Kirishima and Bakugou approached you and asked if you wanted to get an apartment with them once you’d graduated. With the three of you living together, you were able to afford a nicer apartment than you’d ever dreamed of having that was in a central location and only a few train stops away from where your respective jobs were located.

Things were going well, and you’d done a decent job of keeping your true feelings for Kirishima to yourself. It helped that he’d never dated anyone, and you were free to lust after him quietly, under the impression that no one had caught on to how you really felt, perfectly content to continue as you had been since the day you’d met him.

The only wrench in your plans of quiet pining was Mina Ashido.

Mina was awesome, and you loved her to pieces. She was one of the only other females in your friend group and had been around since you’d gotten closer to the boys in the frat that first year of college. She was the perfect person to go to when you needed some self-care nights, always down to put on a face mask and paint your nails, and she was the best shopping partner.

However, you were thoroughly convinced that Kirishima liked her.

You’d noticed, as far back as your freshman year, how they always gravitated towards each other in social settings. Mina was always one of the last ones to leave when you went out back then, always the one Kirishima threw his arm around when you walked back to campus from the bar.

It was part of the reason you’d become close with Bakugou in the first place. Whenever Kiri was with Mina, you always sidled up to the explosive blonde, teasing him to distract yourself from the way your heart was squeezing in your chest.

Neither of them had ever mentioned having more than just a platonic, friendly relationship with each other, but you couldn’t shake the feeling you got whenever you saw them together.

It’s called jealousy, you idiot.

You had nothing to be jealous about though. Kirishima was your friend, and that’s all he would ever be.

Things had been going well, at least that’s what you’d thought. And then this morning had happened.

It was Saturday, which was your normal grocery shopping day. You and Bakugou had taken on the burden of shopping for groceries for the apartment. You’d allowed Kirishima to go once and he came home with more junk food than should be allowed in one cart, and half of the things on the list you’d given him missing, and more protein powder than should be legally allowed.

Bakugou had worked out a system and your grocery shopping trips were like a well-oiled machine that took no longer than an hour out of your day, and you were grateful for your grumpy friend and his penchant for being overly organized.

You finished getting dressed, ready to get this over with so you could use the rest of the day to play video games and be generally lazy. Walking into the living room, you stopped in your tracks to see your roommates glaring at each other, which was normal for one of them, and uncharacteristic for the other.

“Everything okay?” Your eyes darted between the two men, taking in Kirishima’s stiff posture and clenched jaw.

“Fine. I’m going shopping alone today.” Bakugou grunted, turning away from his best friend.

Puzzled, you frowned. “What? Why?”

Bakugou stopped in the doorway, turning to face the both of you, looking thoroughly fed up. He lifted his hand and pointed. “The two of you are making me want to commit myself. I’ve been dealing with this shit for years, and it ends today. You’re in love with each other. Figure your shit out and fuck already. I’ll be out for the rest of the day.”

You gaped after him as he turned again, giving you both the middle finger over his shoulder as he left, the door slamming shut behind him.

And that brings us up to speed.

“Are we really this stupid?” You asked, shutting your eyes and leaning your head back.

Kirishima sighed. “This doesn’t make any sense. Since when?”

Snorting, you flopped down on the couch, rubbing at your face tiredly. “Truthfully? Since the moment we met.” You guessed the cat was out of the bag, so you might as well tell him everything. “In the kitchen at the frat house.”

“When you came over to work on that project with Denki?” His eyebrows furrowed, an adorably confused look on his face. “Are you telling me I’ve been pushing you at Bakugou for nearly 5 years for no reason?”

“Yeah, you could stop doing that at any time and I would appreciate it. Unless you want me to strangle him to death.”

Kirishima flopped down on the other end of the couch, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “I’ve liked you just as long, you know? I saw you sitting in our kitchen and I thought I was going to throw up.”

“If that was supposed to make me feel good about myself then you’ve failed miserably.”

“No! I just mean, the butterflies-” He groaned. “Shut up and let me get this out okay?”

Smirking at him, you turned your body, leaning against the back of the couch. “Okay, sorry, keep going.”

Taking a deep breath, he continued, red eyes trained on your face. “Do you remember the frat party?”

“Which one?”

“That first one, when you chugged that beer in front of me and then helped me kick Bakugou’s ass at beer pong?” He waited for you to nod before he spoke again. “I’d never felt so enamored with anyone in my entire life.” Kirishima let his gaze fall to his hands. “You were so awesome and funny and beautiful and you kept up with my friends and their dumbass antics like a pro and I just...I couldn’t believe you were real. I just kept telling myself that you would never be into someone like me, so I decided that if we could be friends for life then that would be enough.”

“Ei…” You trailed off, frowning. You’d always known he tended to get down on himself. You and Bakugou had done your best to convince him he was worth much more than he let himself believe, but sometimes he needed a reminder.

“I know, I know. I don’t feel that way anymore, but at the time I did.” His hair was down, tied back in a loose bun, bits of his fringe falling in his eyes. He pushed a piece of it behind his ear and kept going. “So I tried to keep my distance, kept on hanging around with Mina, tried not to think about how much I wanted to be with you. She kept telling me I needed to tell you, kept rubbing it in that I wasn’t being manly about it. But you were hanging out with Bakugou so much I just figured you liked him and I didn’t want to get in the way.”

Closing your eyes, you let your head fall forward. “I was hanging out with Bakugou because I couldn’t stand seeing you with Mina so much. I was jealous.” Realization hit, and your eyes snapped open. “Mina knew?”

“Yeah, she’s the only one I told.”

“All those times we hung out and she never said a word.” Chuckling, you shook your head. “I told Shinsou. It’s like the only secret he’s ever kept from Kaminari. I threatened to mutilate him beyond all recognition if he mentioned a word to anyone.” You grinned sheepishly at him.

Kirishima huffed a laugh. “You’ve been spending way too much time with Bakugou. Your threats are just as creative as his.”

“Speaking of, I guess he figured it out on his own then.”

Humming, he shrugged. “He was always the smartest one out of all of us.” He looked over at you again. “So, now it’s your turn.”

Raising an eyebrow, you blinked at him. “For what? A heartfelt confession?”

“It’s only fair. I told you how I felt. What did you think when you first met me?”

You felt your ears get hot. “Do you want the truth? Because it’s kind of embarrassing.”

Shifting himself on the couch, he leaned against the arm, tanned forearms resting on his knees. “Oh, this should be good.” He teased, grinning.

“Shut up.” You sighed, preparing yourself for his reaction. “When you walked into the kitchen that day, my first thoughts were...uh...pretty dirty. Like X rated.”

Eyes wide, he stared at you. “Really? How dirty are we talking here?”

You covered your face with your hands, mumbling your answer behind them.

“Sorry, what was that?” He was fucking with you again, you could hear the smirk in his voice, and you were tempted to smack him with a throw pillow.

Taking a deep breath, you moved your hands from your face, looking him right in the eye. “I said, I wanted you to step on me.”

Sputtering, he blinked a few times. “What?”

“I mean, you were this...tank, Eijirou. Like this giant man with gorgeous eyes and a killer smile, with the personality of fucking sunshine and you had these big hands and I wanted you to wrap them around my throat and-”

“Whoa whoa whoa, seriously?” His cheeks were as red as his hair, his hands flailing as he stopped your tirade. “You wanted me to…?

Nodding solemnly, you looked him dead in the eyes. “Yes, and I’ve thought about that like every day since then.”

“I am learning things about you today that I never even imagined.” Blowing a breath out he slumped back, looking shook.

You hurried on, wanting him to know it was more than that. “I mean, after that I got to know you and I love everything about you, Ei. I just, you’re such a good person, better than I could ever be. You care about everyone and you’re always there for me, for all of us, whenever we need you. You’re strong and funny and brave. I always know that I can rely on you.” Sniffling, you couldn’t help the emotions bubbling to the surface.

“But you also want me to step on you.” He was grinning, his eyes a little wet, too.

Wiping at your eyes with your fingers, you chuckled. “Yes, exactly.”

Sighing, he leaned forward, grabbing your arm and tugging. “Come here.”

Crawling across the couch, you laid down between his parted legs, your head resting on his chest. He wrapped his giant arms around you and kissed the top of your head.

“Now what?” You asked, realizing you were afraid of the answer. What happened now?

He hummed, and you heard the sound vibrate through his chest. “I was going to suggest a nap, but now I keep thinking about what you said…”

You lifted up to ask what he meant, shifting your body and freezing when you felt something hard brush against your thigh. Eyes meeting his, you bit your lip at the look on his face, feeling a blush creep over your face and down your neck. “Yeah?”

“I figured we can do things out of order a little bit, right? I’m going to take you on a real date and court you properly, like a gentleman and all that, but right now all I can think about is, well…” He sat up, grabbing you around the waist and lifting you like it was nothing, until you were sitting properly on his lap, straddling his hips. When he was satisfied, his hand moved to your throat, putting the smallest amount of pressure on the sides of your neck with his calloused fingertips.

The moan that tore from your throat was low and quiet, but he heard it, muttering a curse under his breath as you became nearly boneless in his lap. “Eijriou.” You managed, licking your lips and gazing at him through half-closed eyes, your blood pounding in your ears.

It was ridiculous how turned on you were in that moment, and he’d barely done a thing. You felt his cock twitch beneath you, and you couldn’t help but grind down on him, the small amount of friction making you shiver.

Suddenly he was guiding you towards him, your noses bumping and breath mingling as he held you in place, his lips just out of your reach. “You don’t know how much I’ve always wanted you, Y/N.”

Letting your eyes slide closed, you ran your hands up his muscled arms and rested them on his shoulders to keep yourself upright. You were tired of waiting, of keeping yourself from what you wanted. “Show me.”

If you were to die right here on this couch it would have all been worth it. The feeling of his lips on yours, the way he ran his thumb lightly over your throat as he kissed you, had your eyes rolling back in their sockets. You couldn’t get enough of the taste of him, of the feeling of his hard body beneath your fingertips. He was careful with his sharp teeth, tugging at your bottom lip lightly, your tongues sliding together as he rolled his hips against yours.

You pulled back for air finally, taking in his kiss bruised lips and dilated pupils. Reaching down, you tore your shirt over your head, tossing it across the room, never breaking eye contact. You watched his gaze fall to your heaving chest as he worried at his bottom lip for a moment, obviously lost in thought.

Before you could ask him what he was thinking about, he’d shifted again so that his feet were on the floor. Kirishima lifted you off his lap and put you on your feet in front of him, hands moving to your waist, fingers slipping into the elastic of the leggings you were wearing. He pressed his face to your bare stomach, kissing your skin as he worked your pants down your thighs, slipping them past your knees. You played with his hair, moaning softly as he kissed along your hip.

When he sat back you stepped out of your leggings, feeling exposed. You forgot how to be awkward when he was looking at you like that, hungry and wanting. Stepping forward, you pouted. “Why am I the only one half-naked?”

Chuckling, he pulled his shirt off, and you sucked in a breath, trying to wrap your head around the fact that this man, with a chiseled and perfect body like a Greek god, wanted you.

You didn’t even have time to admire him, because he was moving again, pulling you closer by your thighs, sharp teeth hooking into the front of your panties and dragging them down. Tugging the tie out of his hair, you slid it on your wrist, letting your fingers card through his red locks. He let his hands do the rest of the work until the offending garment was tangled around your ankles.

Pushing him away gently, you watched him settle back on the couch, red eyes gazing at you as you reached back to unclasp your bra, letting it fall to the floor, finally fully exposed to him. Kirishima sucked in a breath, blinking a few times in disbelief. “God, you’re so beautiful.”

You kicked your panties to the side, moving to kneel in front of him, reaching up to grasp the top of his grey sweats, mouth-watering when you started to tug them down. Kirishima was huge everywhere else, so the size of his cock was of no surprise to you. He was massive, long, and girthy, and you couldn’t wait to feel him inside you, stuffing you full.

Rubbing your thighs together for some relief, you left his sweats around his ankles, leaning forward and grasping his cock in your hand. It was almost comical how small your hands looked compared to it. Your eyes locked with his as you licked a long stripe up the shaft, tracing along the prominent vein on the underside, and lapping at the precum dripping from the head.

Kirishima’s head fell back to rest on the cushion behind him, his fingers tangling in your hair as you took him into your mouth. Your jaw ached almost immediately as you did your best to swallow all of him down, willing your throat to relax. You’d spent so long thinking about how he would taste and sound as you sucked his soul out through his dick, you were going to make the most out of this moment.

His breathy pants filled the room, along with the obscene slurping sounds of your mouth around his cock. Gripping your hair and tugging lightly, you could tell he was holding back, his thighs shaking with the effort to keep from fucking up into your face. You pulled off, opening your mouth to let him know he could wreck you however he wanted, but he had other plans.

“Come up here, baby.”

The pet name sent shivers through you as you stood up, straddling his lap, his cock pressed up against his stomach. His thumb brushed over your lips, wiping away the spit and pre that spilled down your chin. Cradling your face in his large palm, he pulled you forward and kissed you deeply, his free hand sliding between your bodies. Thick fingers parted your folds, and you lifted up on your knees to give him better access. You moaned into his mouth as he brushed over your clit, gathering the dripping wetness of your cunt along his digits and sliding one finger inside your hole.

You clenched around him, breaking the kiss and keening loudly, your hips involuntarily bucking against his hand. His finger pumped in and out, curling slightly and pressing against your inner walls, stretching you. Gripping your hip with his other hand, he kissed his way down your jaw to your neck and chest, tongue flicking out over your nipple, hot breath ghosting over your skin with a chuckle when you grabbed his head and pulled him towards you.

One finger turned to two and then three as you rocked and mewled in pleasure, his thumb finding your clit again and pressing against the bundle of nerves, whispered praises reaching your ears as he sucked and bit at your breasts. You were on the edge, wanting to fall over and drown in him, needing to cum all over his fingers and then again on his cock, wanting nothing more than to feel this way forever.

“Ei I’m gonna…” You panted, unable to form the words.

Grunting, he moved his fingers faster, pressing his thumb in a little harder, his words of praise streaming steadily, telling you how good you were, how pretty you looked. Eyes rolling back, your body tensed, a moan in the sound of his name leaving your lips as you shook, cumming harder than you ever had in your life.

You were still clenching when he pulled his fingers out of you, his hand slick with release as he tugged on his cock and lined it up with your entrance, your body mourning the loss for mere seconds before he was filling you again. The slick glide of your arousal had you taking nearly all of him, the two of you groaning in tandem at the feeling. Gripping his shoulders, you lifted slightly, slamming your hips back down and taking him to the hilt. The stretch was just on the edge of painful, but his thick digits had stretched you just enough that the pleasure superseded any discomfort.

Still trying to gather yourself after your orgasm, you took a moment to breathe, studying his face, your gaze tracing over the scar on his eyelid, and his dark lashes fanning over his cheeks. An hour ago you never could have imagined you’d be here, panting shakily, drenched in sweat and skin to skin with your best friend and roommate.

Clenching around him, you held his shoulders, rocking forward and lifting yourself slightly. Kirishima gripped your hips, fucking up into you in a steady rhythm, his lips finding yours once again to swallow the panting moans leaving you. You bounced on his cock, relishing the feeling as he kissed down your neck, his fingertips digging into your flesh, sure to leave bruises for you to admire the next day.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed, but it didn’t even matter. Just being this close to him, feeling him filling you so completely after wanting him for so long, it could have been minutes and you’d be happy. Knowing he felt for you as strongly as you felt for him was enough.

His fingers trailed along your front and dipped in between your bodies to rub your clit again, and you felt the pleasure race down your spine, coil tightening again and ready to break. “Oh fuck, Eijirou!”

Growling, he grunted your name as his hips snapped up to meet yours, chasing his release. “I love you, Y/N.”

His words tipped you over again, your breath catching as you came, the wet sounds of his cock plunging into you increasing as you gushed around him. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, completely spent. You held onto him as he slammed into you a few more times, rhythm faltering and hips stuttering until he was filling you up with a loud groan.

Collapsing back onto the couch, he held you to his chest, the two of you gasping for air. It was quiet for a few minutes as he rubbed his palm along your back comfortingly. You felt relaxed and sated, a pleased smile making its way to your face when you thought about what he’d said.

“Hey, Ei?” You pulled back slightly to look at him, giggling when he peeked one eye open to gaze at you.

“You okay?”

“Mm. I just wanted to tell you that I love you, too.”

He looked sheepish, opening both eyes and biting his lip. “I didn’t mean to tell you like that. I wanted it to be romantic.”

“That was plenty romantic, Eijirou.” Rolling your eyes fondly, you shifted in his lap. “I’m just happy to hear you say it.”

“Man, we did this all wrong. I should have at least taken you to dinner first. This is so unmanly of me, I just couldn’t help it.” He frowned. “I’m sorry-”

“You’re too good sometimes, Ei. I’m not complaining, am I?” You raised an eyebrow. “We should go get cleaned up before Bakugou comes home and finds out we fucked on the couch.”

“Please don’t talk about Bakugou while you’re sitting on my dick.” He made a face that caused you to bust into gasping laughter.

“Oh my god, I can’t.” You wheezed. “You’re ridiculous.” You moved to get up and he stopped you.

With a serious look on his face, he pushed your hair away from your face, his hand lingering near your ear. “I do love you though, Y/N. And I’m glad we finally got here. I didn’t think we ever would.”

Expression softening, you leaned into his palm, smiling at him. “Me too.”

Maybe if you had just told him how you felt all those years ago, you would have been able to have this sooner. But you promised yourself that you wouldn’t dwell on the past, deciding to focus on the future, because you knew it would be filled with more moments with him just like this.

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itsbeaconhillsbaby · 3 years

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(cruel) summer || tom holland x reader

a/n: well...this took me a lot longer than I expected. I can only apologise for how long this has taken, especially since the absolutely wonderful @glahmouur requested it so many months ago. I hope you’re still excited to read, and that I’ve done it justice for you. clinging onto the last of these summer vibes before my favourite time of year - and hopefully plenty more writing to come over the next couple of weeks! I’ve missed you all so very much. enjoy x word count: 3735 (oops) warning: swearing, gross paparazzi, little bit of angst summary: it’s the summer of your dreams with your favourite people, something was always going to try and ruin it

The trip had been booked for months.

Tom, Harrison, Harry, Tuwaine and yourself. Mexico.

Two whole weeks.

No interruptions. No work. Just pure bliss.

And, it was shaping up to be the most perfect break.

The first couple of days since you had landed included a lot of amazing food, sightseeing around the quaint picturesque villages and cultural landmarks, tackling hiking trails and joining in on the sports activities set up for you and the boys on the crystal white beaches.

Your favourite part however, was the amount of quality time you got to spend with Tom. Both of you were considered workaholics, and you loved your jobs, but it meant that for the majority of the year you were in separate locations working on your own individual projects.

You both deserved, and needed, this break.

The timing couldn’t have been better, as across the two weeks you would be celebrating your 23rd birthday. Birthdays weren’t always something you and Tom could share together in person, but you would always make it work with FaceTime calls and the promise of a do-over when you were together again.

“Hey!”

You tore yourself away from the soft paperback that was resting warmly against your thighs.

“Hm?”

You look up at your boyfriend, strong arms hauling himself up against the hot paved edging of the pool. He shook his wet curls out of his hair, droplets springing from the tips. Tanned, freckled shoulders peeked out from beneath the water. The sun, strong and intense, commandeered the bright blue skies. A far cry from the cold, rainy weather you’d left back home in the UK. You were unwilling to make your way back to your hotel room in the sticky heat for your forgotten sunglasses, and were instead using your hand as a shield from the glaring rays.

“The water looks good on you,” you flirt, smiling across at him from your position on the reclined sun-bed.

He grins back at you, cheekily.

“It’ll look better on you. Aren’t you coming in?”

You pointed to the book nestled between your legs, “I’m reading, plus the water is freezing.” You teased him, training your eyes back onto the page. You heard brief splashing alongside the laughter of the boys as they continued to play their water basketball game.

A shadow blocks out your sun, dripping water onto the hot concrete.

“Yeah, no. Sorry, but that’s just not going to cut it birthday girl.”

Before you had a chance to take in his words, Tom had scooped you up from your position on the sun-bed. The light droplets from his wet, messy hair chilling your tanned skin.

“Tom! No! Put me down! What are you doing?” You laughed, lightly kicking your legs, “Wait, at least let me put my book down first.”

You felt the grumbled laugh against your body, as you gently tossed your book onto the lounger.

“Okay, go ahead.”

He pressed a sloppy, wet kiss on your mouth - your hand knotted in the back of his wet, tangled hair as you pushed for more.

“Love you.” He said, before dropping you into the pool with a splash.

“You suck, Holland!” You shouted back to him, once you’d come back up for air, shaking water out of your ears and trying to scoop your tangled web of hair out of your eyes as he laughed, eyes twinkling. ****

You continued to watch from your perch on the side-lines, legs tracing patterns in the water whilst the sun beat down across your back and shoulder blades. The boys continued to mess around in the water. Your book had been long since abandoned on your sun lounger, pages now curling with the heat. You couldn’t contain your laughter when Tuwaine jumped on Tom’s back, Harry on Harrison’s so the two teams could race from one end of the pool to the other, legs peddling in what seemed like slow motion under the water; raucous fits of laughter emanating from both parties as your cheered on your boyfriend.

You couldn’t help but be automatically drawn to Tom, his smile so wide and eyes creased with laughter as Tuwaine casually slung his arms over his shoulders. His hair was completely dishevelled from the water’s attempts to flatten it entirely. You could see a smattering of freckles breaking out across his nose, complete with a small shock of pink on his cheeks as he was officially branded by the sun.

“Hey, pretty girl – forgive me yet?” Tom whined, swimming up to the edge to meet you. He gently pulled your legs further into the water, sliding himself between them, wrapping his arms around your waist as your legs wrapped themselves around his.

You laughed, pushing against his broad shoulders.

“Not sure yet. I’m thinking about it.”

He gave a toothy grin before peppering a small cluster of kisses against your lips, “You look so good.” He mumbled quietly against your mouth.

You rolled your eyes at him, before returning the kisses.

“Oi, get a room you two!” You laugh as Tom covers the front of you, ultimately taking the hit of water from Harry.

He gives you a light squeeze round the waist, and a soft kiss on the cheek whispering a quick, “Hop on.”

Wrapping your arms across his warm shoulders, you eased yourself fully into the water, feeling the immediate chill up your sides before wrapping your legs around Tom’s waist. Leaning forward against his back, he held onto the backs of your thighs – propelling you both through the water.

As you arrive next to the boys, you lightly floated away from Tom and were pulled into a one-armed hug by Tuwaine. As Harry held up a fist for you to bump against, you flicked your wrist just under the surface of the water – splashing him as payback.

Tom tread water with the cheesiest grin on his face as all the boys’ eyes immediately trained on you.

“Come on then, what’s this ‘mermaids’ game you were talking about – and how do we play?” ****

The air con hummed lowly, wispy curtains gently blowing in the cool breeze from the open balcony doors. The ocean twinkled in the late afternoon sunshine. You were sprawled out on the large king-sized bed wrapped in one of the hotel’s fluffiest white towels, legs dancing in the air behind you. Lounging on your front, wet curls drying in the cool air you could hear the faint sound of spraying water from the en-suite shower. It soothed you as you continued to follow the written words on the pages of your, now slightly wrinkled and rough to the touch, paperback.

Your phone vibrated from the opposite side of the room, plugged in and charging atop the rustic, vintage vanity table where your new camera, battery pack and Tom’s wallet had all been left.

The camera had been a special gift from Tom which he’d surprised you with on your birthday, celebrated only the other evening. He’d been so giddy the morning of. The carefully, yet haphazardly, wrapped parcel had protruded just slightly from under the bed in the hotel room you shared, where he’d attempted to hide it. You pretended you hadn’t noticed. Puppy dog eyes shone as he eventually handed it across to you, surprising you in bed as the sun was going down, casting golden specks across your bodies, as he whispered a soft ‘happy birthday’ against your lips. Beaming at you once he saw your sheer shock and joy at his thoughtful gift, he had kept the first photo you’d taken in his wallet from that evening. Just the two of you - both sleepy shadows, full from all the sweet lemon sponge cake that has been especially ordered up to your room - cuddled together, legs entangled as you fell into each other’s embrace.

You’d all taken a boat to one of the smaller islands for a special celebratory dinner the next evening; where Harry had surprised you with the battery pack, his smart quick-thinking leaving Tom with a pink blush upon his cheeks. You thanked him with a smile, the rest of the crew spoiling you rotten with drinks and food. As the boys parted ways, you and Tom had waited around for the sunset, high off the sparkling, sweet tasting wine you’d both consumed all evening – bewitched by each other’s titillating company. A small wrap was knotted around your waist, as you had all stayed in your beachwear, black bikini top on show as a server snapped a picture of you both with your new camera per Tom’s polite request. The sun burned low behind you both, it’s vibrant orange glow glistening across the water towards the cove.

Posting the photo in your wine induced haze, you captioned it with a simple 23 and a golden heart before tagging Tom in the blurry, sepia quality polaroid.

You knew the vibrating would be your phone going into overload. A common occurrence that happened anytime you posted a photo with your boyfriend, the hordes of fans coming in full throttle to interact in some way.

Leaving it to buzz in the background, you turned your attention to the bathroom door opening. Tom stepping out as he shook his wet hair, towelling it dry as it stuck up in multiple directions haphazardly.

“Come here.”

You sat yourself up, legs crossed beneath you as he walked over to you – that soft smile high on his lips.

He sat on the end of the bed as you brushed through his temperamental curls, “Please leave it curly,” you murmur, pressing your lips to his tanned shoulder blades, running your hands through the brown locks.

“We’ll match.” He said, turning to you as your hands fell back into your lap.

“Would it be too much?” You asked, as he gently tucked a rogue drying curl behind your own ear.

“Oh definitely. But I love it.”

With that, he pushed forward. Noses brushed as you both relaxed into each other’s embrace, mouths eagerly seeking out each other, the sweet smells of lotion and ocean spray engulfing you both.

****

“Right, it’s my round! Get your orders in!”

The whole group hollered at Tom, who pressed a firm kiss onto your forehead as you tilted it upwards towards him, his two hands cradling either side of your head. Your eyes closed involuntary at the warmth before you turned to watch him leave the table and join the small crowd up at the bar. Dressed in a tropical patterned shirt, unbuttoned and billowing just slightly due to the aircon, you took a minute to admire him from afar. He worked hard to look the way he did, muscles contracting and relaxing again with each breath.

You pulled the thin material of your summery dress down further, eager to cover up some of the bare skin you had on show after seeing Tom’s. You paled in comparison to the web-slinging actor, and sometimes if you focussed on it too much you couldn’t understand why such a gorgeous man would be interested in you.

“Hello. Anyone in there?”

A hand waved in front of your eyeline. Shaking your head, you returned your attention back to the table where the boys were trying to mask their laughter.

“She can’t take her eyes off him for two minutes. Outrageous.”

“What? I’m on holiday, leave me alone!”

Tuwaine smirked slightly, as Harrison patted your arm reassuringly.

“Why did we agree to have a couple on this trip again?” Harry complained cheekily, grinning his cheesy grin at you. You reached an arm across the table and pushed a hand against his forehead, playfully shoving him back.

“Shut up, you love me.”

As Tom came back with the tray; a colourful array of cocktails, shots and ciders, the group continued to laugh and joke around, cheers-ing to your recent birthday and to the remainder of their holiday under the heat of the Mexican sun.

**** “Uh oh, incoming Tom.”

Everyone was rosy cheeked as they tumbled out of the restaurant, laughing and giggling as the sun cast its low golden glow over the glistening blue waters. Waves gently caressed the edge of the shore as you revelled in the drunken clinginess of your boyfriend, and the support and love of your friends.

You walked with Tom - the pair of you in your own little bubble, as he tucked you into his side, his arm slung casually across your shoulders as you wrapped yours around his waist. You could hear the thumps of his beating heart beneath the now buttoned up fabric of his shirt.

As the words spilled from Harry’s mouth, catching you all off guard mid conversation, Tom whipped his head round; immediately sobering up as his arm tightened around your shoulders. You peeked over his.

Behind a cluster of people, the striking black camera was obvious as the paparazzi pushed forwards, eager to catch a glimpse of the web-slinger himself.

You felt a brush of cold air sweep over your body, the hairs on your arms rising like tiny pinpricks as little goose bumps littered your skin. You straightened up, unwrapping yourself from Tom’s side.

“You okay?” He murmured into your ear, eyes hardening as he focussed on the path ahead of him whilst navigating the drunken, bustling crowds.

You nod.

“How did they even find us?”

You could sense Tom’s frustration and anger at the situation, resting a comforting hand on his arm. You knew what this meant, if the paparazzi had caught wind of where you all were, it wouldn’t be long before they figured out where it was you were staying and you couldn’t imagine that they’d leave Tom alone for the rest of his trip.

“I posted a photo the other night. Someone could’ve recognised the restaurant.”

It was during your worried ramble that the shouting started, camera-wielding men desperate to get a photo of Tom.

“It’s okay, it’s not your fault, okay? Let’s just head back.”

Your heart was racing as you were led through the dimly lit cobbled streets of the small village, losing Tom’s hand you were flanked by Tuwaine and Harrison – Harry hurrying up ahead with Tom. The camera shutters were getting louder and louder, the constant clicking ricocheting off the stone walls surrounding you as you attempted to block out the shouting and the grabbing hands of the people around you. The once happy, bustling streets now felt claustrophobic.

It was so easy to forget who Tom was in regards to his public image and celebrity status when you were together. Forcing you to recall that he wasn’t just your boyfriend, he was suddenly an A-list celebrity, ‘Spider-Man’ himself. Back home you could easily be together in public without too much attention – only having to accommodate for the occasional fan photo or dinner interruption. Premiere’s and special events weren’t so bad because the press was supposed to be there, and whilst extremely intimidating, you understood it was part of the job.

You noticed Tom and Harry slip down a small alleyway to the right, a blink and you’ll miss it move – as you and the boys continued up the cobbled paths to the main street. It was a distraction technique discussed every time the five of you went out together and had to deal with any irritating situation.

“They said they’re getting a car, and they’ll meet us back at the hotel.”

As Harrison organised your transport, you reached the main road – twinkling lights from the city and the roaring of cars sweeping past you. The paparazzi slowed behind you, their shouts less desperate now that it was obvious Tom was no longer with the group. Their frustration was obvious as they all grouped together, scanning through the photos that they had managed to sneakily take.

Then there was a stupid comment.

As the paps brushed past you all, one leaned in far closer than you had anticipated, stabbing a pointed finger straight into your chest and leaning in close.

“Think you’re so special. Girl like you. So many other beautiful girls out there.”

Whilst the language was slightly broken, you pieced enough together before Tuwaine stepped in front of you both.

“What the hell man! Fuck off, you’re just a bully, why don’t you just leave her alone, yeah? Pick on someone your own size!”

You grabbed at Tuwaine’s arm, shaking your head in silent surrender.

“Just leave it. It’s okay. It’s not worth it.”

“I just hate them so much. Never let anyone have a bit of privacy. Constantly looking to bring people down, and start fights - assholes!” He shouted down the road at the small cluster of men as they continued on their way, “Are you okay?”

You nodded, “I’m fine. They’re just mad they didn’t get their picture. Let’s just get out of here. Should probably make sure that they don’t follow us back to the hotel.”

Harrison came jogging over, hand beckoning to follow him to a sleek black car parked just around the corner.

“Car’s here,” He paused for a minute. Noticing your smaller stature and Tuwaine’s puffed out chest and frown, he tilted his head, “We all okay?”

“Yeah, we’re good. Let’s go.”

Smiling a small, grateful smile you gave Harrison’s arm a comforting squeeze before sliding onto the black leather seats.

***** “Can’t even give us a couple weeks off. I love this job. But I would pack it all in if it meant that paparazzi just fucking left us alone.”

“Tom. Think we should call it a night.”

Harrison nodded over at you. Whilst your body was curled into Tom’s frame, your eyes unfocussed, having found a spot on the wall to gaze into as the boys all had a drink in the private hotel lounge.

You didn’t want to admit that the photographer’s words had any impact. And you really didn’t want to bring down the light-hearted, fun energy that your vacation had been full of. You were usually so good at brushing off any unwarranted comments, which were usually inevitable seeing as your boyfriend had such a large fanbase. There was no way everyone was going to like you, and you could cope with that. It wasn’t like you hadn’t been doing so for ages now. But whether it was the alcohol you’d already consumed, or something else – you just couldn’t stop thinking about what the man had spat at you.

Tom’s body shifts beneath you, holding out a hand for you to take as you both rise from the luxurious chaise. Shaking your head out of your daze, you smile softly as you grasp his hand and haul yourself up.

“We’ll see you guys tomorrow okay. Thanks for tonight boys, and sorry for ruining it.”

“Tom, you didn’t-” Tom waved them off with a shrug, before sliding his arms across your shoulder and entwining your fingers at the other side.

“Night guys.” It came out as more of a whisper, as you processed to walk with Tom up to your floor, your head nestling gently into his collarbone.

****

The hotel room was suffocating.

You lay on your side, facing the firmly locked balcony doors. The room was cold. The air conditioning incessant with its obnoxious whirring. There was a rustle. The thin cotton sheets slide across your body as Tom hops in next to you.

“I’m sorry.”

His soft words caused your entire tension-filled body to exhale.

“Tom.”

You turned to face him. His eyes were closed, tiny creases etched into the space between his eyebrows. Tom didn’t like being vulnerable, you knew he was staving off his true feelings – the striking anger that was coursing through his body. Gently smoothing the creases out with your fingers, he leaned ever so slightly into your touch.

“Don’t be sorry, it’s not your fault.”

You pressed a soft kiss on his brow bone before settling in next to him, bodies warm to the touch.

“I love you. You know that, right? Whatever they’re all saying, it’s rubbish.”

The lump in your throat that you had been impressively swallowing down all evening came back to the surface, the pressure building.

“How did you know?”

He shrugged.

“I saw some of the comments.”

The pictures had been released pretty quickly. By the time you had all arrived back to the hotel they were already circulating across the internet, which people took as the perfect opportunity to hurl insults at your social media pages.

He shifts his head to the left to look at you, eyes softening.

“Hey. You can let it out. It’s just me. C’mon.”

You curl further into him, as his lips caress your forehead.

“People suck.” You mumble into his chest as he wraps himself around you, lightly trailing his fingers up and down your arm, the skin bursting with tiny goose bumps. You revelled in the soothing comfort.

“Sometimes I just forget. I forget that there are thousands – maybe even tens of thousands - of people out there who just don’t like me,” Tom squeezes you that little bit tighter, “And it’s okay. I don’t mind, really. I just wish they didn’t have to be so vocal about it – about how I look, how I act, how I dress. About whether I’m good enough.”

“You are good enough. You’re more than good enough. You’re amazing.”

Your lips pull up into a small smile as you look into those concerned brown eyes.

“You’re biased.”

He let out a small huff, chest vibrating beneath you, “Am not.” He sighed, those fluffy brows saying a thousand words, “I’m supposed to make all that crap better, not make you feel worse because of some so-called fans on the internet, and those stupid idiot paps; I’m so sorry.”

“Maybe if you just…weren’t so damn attractive. That would help.”

You both laughed.

“Oh, really?”

You nodded, as he pulled you in, peppering more soft kisses along your temple until he made his way down to your mouth.

“You’re ridiculous. And beautiful.”

Another kiss.

“And smart.”

Another kiss.

“And kind.”

Another kiss. “And I am so in love with absolutely everything about you. You’re enough. You’re everything.”

You felt your eyes glossing over. Scrunching your nose to avoid an onslaught of overdue tears, you felt Tom move beneath the covers – his arms wrapping around your torso, his curly messy hair resting on your stomach.

“I love you too.”

#tom holland #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland fanfic #tom holland one shot #harry holland #harrison osterfield #tuwaine barrett #lisa writes #lisa takes 10000 years to write more like

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mr-and-mr-diaz · 3 years

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I just. I just thought about Eddie holding baby Jee-Yun? And singing to her while she clutches at his finger with her tiny meaty baby hand??

Maybe Buck freaked out a little because she was being fussy and wouldn't settle, and its probably nothing but hey, who better to call than Eddie, who conveniently has the day off and cuts off Buck's panicked rambling with a soothing;

"Its okay, Buck. Give me ten minutes, okay? You're doing great. She's probably just restless."

Eddie gets there and sends Buck off to cook dinner or shower or take a nap, scooping Jee-Yun out of her travel crib and making sure she's changed, warm, fed and content. And its been so long since Christopher was this tiny, but holding Jee-Yun makes him think back to that tiny, wriggly little bundle in his arms for the first time, back before it all went to shit.

Eddie pacing slowly around the lower loft, singing quietly, tickling her little chin, grinning when she giggles and gurgles at him. And he can see so much of Maddie and Chimney in her already. She's got Maddie's eyes and Chimney's lopsided grin.

(And for a little crack, maybe Buck catches this scene and is so overwhelmed he just blurts out; "put a baby in me!" And Eddie is like; "... What?" 👁👄👁 Which cues a hilariously awkward but heartfelt confession of feelings on both sides.)

Hey hey! So I like I told you I started this a while ago and then got SEVERE AND DEBILITATING writers block, and it sat waiting for new life. And then 5x03 happened, so Hello, new life! I hope you love it!

With You, My Life, I Will Get Married

Warning: mild spoilers for 9-1-1 season 5 episode 3.

Chimney was out searching for Maddie.

After shifts, on weekends, whenever he had a second, he was either spending time with Jee or out searching for her mom.

In times when he was on the search everyone at the 118 was making time to watch Jee Yun. Mrs. Lee was doing what she could, but couldn't always be available, and when that happened, Jee would spend some time at Bobby and Athena's or by Hen and Karen. And when they had too much going on, or when either of the uncles felt like they weren't getting enough time with their beautiful niece, she would spend time at her Uncle Buck's or Uncle Albert's.

Uncle Buck got lucky this time.

Eight hours in and everything had gone wrong. Buck shoulders were damp with spit-up, baby drool, and snot and all Jee seemed capable of doing was crying, crying, crying.

"I'm so sorry! I don't know what I did wrong, and, and now--just, Jee, please, it's okay, I'm here--!"

She continued to yell and Buck got more and more panicked. "Your Uncle Albert's gonna be here in like 5 minutes, Jee, okay? And then, maybe, maybe he's better with you? And will make you happy, and then--Oh God, what have I done wrong--"

A knocking at the door sent him back on his feet, swaying toward the loft entrance. It opened before he could get there, however, and he stopped where he was, a furious Jee Yun screaming in his ears as Eddie Diaz, not Albert Han, walked in.

"You look like you're having fun." Eddie's eyebrow was raised and his mouth quirked in a teasing smile.

"Eddie...?" Buck's momentary shock was interrupted as Jee let out another wail. "Um, sorry, this isn't the best time at the moment, but Albert--"

"--has a date tonight and sent me as his relief." Eddie reached out and plucked Jee Yun from Buck's arms. "And you have a date with your shower and a few hours' sleep."

"I--no, it's okay, I know you just got off shift--"

"Buck." Eddie shifted Jee to one arm, and the other rested on Buck's chest, over his pattering heartbeat. He met Buck's eyes, his own calm despite the bundle of adorable chaos still screaming bloody murder into his shoulder. "Go shower."

"...Yeah, okay."

***

She truly was one of the cutest babies, even when she was liable to wake up the neighborhood with her noise, Eddie thought with a smile as he re-seated her over one shoulder and began to firmly but gently tap her back.

"Your Tio Eddie is going to assume this is a gas issue, okay, chiquita? Christopher used to have this all the time, and he would scream and cry." Eddie huffed ruefully. "I was useless at it then, but Shannon showed me what to do." He kept tapping at her back. "Good set of lungs means a healthy baby, good job, Jee. Now, let's see if we can't get this gas out of you so you can calm down and you and your Tio Buck can get some sleep, okay?"

Eddie started circling the room, the sun beginning to set as he heard he shower turn on.

"There you go, see? Your Buck is going to get all showered since you drooled all over him, and then you both can get some sleep, how's that sound?"

He was answered with a burp far louder than Jee's small body should be capable of making. Then a sweet gurgling sound as she nestled her chin into his shoulder.

"There, feel better, mi princesa?" Eddie whispered against her soft, downy hair. "When I was small and got upset, and my parents got annoyed with my sulking, they'd send me to Abuela. And she would sit me down on her lap, just like this," he sat down on Buck's couch, and settled Jee Yun against his broad chest, rubbing her small back with a large warm hand. "And she would hug me until I forgot what I was so upset about. All I could think about was the smell of her perfume and how much I wanted to be like her one day.

"Then Pepa would come out and yell at both of us that it's about damn time we came into the house, dinner doesn't make itself." Eddie laughed at the memory. Jee made a small discontented noise and Eddie stood up again, walking toward the kitchen, where he saw the half-formed works of bottle making on the counter. "Shhh, princesa, Tio Eddie's gonna make you a bottle." With Jee over his shoulder, sounding more and more on the edge of hunger-panic, Eddie quickly assembled a bottle then leaned back against the kitchen island and cradled Jee Yun in his arms, pressing the nipple to her mouth, which she accepted gratefully.

"Better, yeah? Where was I...? Oh." Eddie smiled. "Once we were inside, Pepa, Abuela and I would make arroz con leche. Abuella would wash the rice, Pepa would be tutting the whole time about too much sugar, but she would always wink at me and add just a bit more before the cinnamon." Eddie couldn't help the smile that stole over his face as he remembered Abuela's warm kitchen in her El Paso ranch house before she and Pepa relocated to LA. In winter, the windows would fog over from the heat of whatever was on the stove. When she left, a lot of Eddie's heart left with her.

"They used to sing me the song too, you know?" Jee gurgled around her dinner and Eddie smiled again. "Well, I wasn't planning to sing it, but you drive a hard bargain." Eddie's poked Jee's soft cheek with a finger and began to sing.

Arroz con leche se quiere casar con una viudita de la capital, que sepa tejer, que sepa bordar, que ponga la aguja en su campanal.

(English translation: Rice with milk (rice pudding) Wishes to get married With a little widow from the capital. Who knows how to weave (or knit), Who knows how to embroider, Who puts the church steeple in the bell tower.)

***

Eddie was no American Idol contestant, but his voice was soothing and good. Strong. Listening to him sing from his seat on the stairs, Buck almost felt like he was where Jee currently snuggled, right against Eddie's chest, as his bass voice sung the gentle Spanish lyrics, harmonized by the occasional happy noise from Jee Yun.

Yo soy la viudita la hija del rey. Me quiero casar y no sé con quien. Contigo sí, contigo no, Contigo mi vida me casaré yo.

(English translation: I am the widow The daughter of the king, I want to get married and I don’t know with whom. With you, yes. With you, no. With you, my life, I will get married.)

Buck's head knocked lightly against the banister, body relaxing. He wasn't wearing a shirt, just the softest sweatpants he owned with a towel draped over his shoulders to catch water from the mess of wet curls on his head.

Eddie's so hard on himself all the time. I don't get it. He's such a good dad.

Dazedly, Buck's eyes fixed on Eddie's mouth as he repeated the verses again. Then Eddie sighed.

"Afterward Pepa would ask me who I want to marry and Abuela would laugh at me, and I'd always complain--" Jee gurgled again. "Like that, yes. But honestly, it was nice... Even though between you and me, Pepa can't sing very well at all." Eddie's lips quirked again in a smile. "Kind of like your Uncle Buck."

Buck startled at his name and looked up at Eddie's eyes. They twinkled back at him in the dying last light of the day, Eddie's golden skin lit by the last rays of the sun. Buck felt his face heat with a blush, knew there was nothing to do about it.

"Sorry, I should've--"

"Feel better after your shower?"

Buck sighed and smiled. "Yeah. World's better." He stood, stretching out his long legs as he descended the stairs. It was full dark now, but Buck didn't feel like turning on a light. "I can take her now."

"Nope." Eddie met him midway, hand on Buck's shoulder turning him around. "You're both getting some sleep now." One hand on Buck's shoulder, the other holding a drowsy Jee Yun, Eddie guided him back up the stairs, and pressed Buck down until he was sitting on his bed.

"Eddie, are you sure--"

"Shhh." Eddie deposited Jee into Buck's arms, then sat down behind him. "You can hold her for now." Eddie's hands skimmed up Buck's warm back then pulled the towel off Buck's shoulders, laying it on top of Buck's head, where a corner flopped over his eyes.

"Eddie?"

"Hold still, Buck."

Eddie's strong hands curled into the towel and Buck's hair, rubbing vigorously to get it dry. "Seriously, anyone who has ever seen your hair at work would marvel at how different it looks before you comb and gel all the life out of it." He rubbed vigorously, and Buck felt himself relaxing back against Eddie's chest. Tomorrow, he might look back at this and feel embarrassed. He might have to apologize. Tomorrow, he would go back to hiding how much he felt for the man who was drying his hair, still absent-mindedly humming the Arroz con leche tune under his breath. But for now, Eddie was too near and too warm and too... Eddie. And Buck found that he couldn't deny himself Eddie right now.

Buck cleared his throat and made himself focus on their conversation. "I used to wear my hair naturally, but people said it looked floppy. Made me look like a puppy."

"People are stupid sometimes, Buck. You know this." Eddie's thumb traced the shell of Buck's ear. "And if you think slicking back your hair makes you look less like a puppy, you really shouldn't be bothering." He snickered as Buck tried to shoulder his chest and Jee made a noise of complaint.

"So I just look like a puppy all the time, huh?"

The towel dropped. Eddie's arms came around, holding onto Buck and Jee Yun both. "I think you're a beautiful man, Buck."

The air in Buck's chest hiccupped out of his mouth. His heart picked up speed as the places where Eddie's hands rested on his stomach seemed to heat from within. "Y... Eddie?"

"Shhh. Sleep now. Jee's asleep, but who knows for how long." Eddie's voice was gruff, embarrassed. "I'll just--"

"Stay?" It came out too high, too soft. Buck cleared his throat and tried again. "I mean, if it isn't any trouble, and--"

"I can stay." Eddie's arms tightened around Buck again and he pulled him backwards until Buck could lay out flat on his back, before pressing Buck's head down on his pillow. Then Eddie pulled Jee from Buck's arms and sat back against the headrest, legs folded together, Buck's niece cuddled again against his chest. "Sleep now."

"Okay." There was so much Buck wanted to know. To say. It all got stopped in his throat as fear tamped it all down to squirm in his chest.

"Eddie?" The word found its way out.

"Hm?"

"...Nothing."

A sigh. Then, "Come here."

Buck didn't hesitate, moving his head off the pillow and onto Eddie's lap. Eddie's spare hand found its way back into his curls and tugged lightly before stroking through them, gently, so gently.

"Sleep now."

"Okay. But," Buck's jaw cracked around a large yawn. "Before... you have to know..."

"Hm?"

"You are... so beautiful... Eddie Diaz."

Buck felt Eddie's hand tighten in his hair again, before releasing, fingers wandering down to trace his eyebrows, his nose, his lips.

"Sleep, querido."

As Buck's eyes slipped closed, and awareness almost dropped away, he swore he could feel lips press lightly right above his eye, on his birth mark.

"Contigo mi vida me casaré yo."

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