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dameronscopilot · 2 years

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Jealous Poe Dameron (NSFW version)

Poe Dameron x f!reader

Following a request for jealous Poe Dameron headcanons (which somehow nearly evolved into a full-fledged fic), I had some more thoughts on the matter, and things took quite a filthy, smutty turn. Read the first part here (fluff and feels).

The good news is that you and Poe have finally gotten your shit together, and you’re officially a thing. The bad news is that you can’t exactly parade around the Resistance base with the leader of Black Squadron hand-in-hand, given that you’re technically still his subordinate.

People accused him of favouritism enough before you were tumbling in the sheets together, after all.

And thus, although Poe Dameron knows you’re his, he still tends to get a bit jealous here and there.

From time to time.

EXPLICIT 18+ CONTENT BELOW THE CUT.

Content: NSFW, smut, unprotected p in v, oral sex, creampies, thigh riding, spit kink, anal sex

Poe knows you only have eyes for him, he really does. He just also wants everyone else to know that, too. He can’t exactly blame the other members of the Resistance for trying to shoot their shot with you; you’re the most beautiful kriffing woman he’s ever seen. And while you don’t love the distress that keeping your relationship a secret brings him…you just really can’t complain about the amount of sex that Poe resorts to in order to fuck through his feelings.

It starts off simply enough: Poe white-knuckles his way through a flirtatious encounter with a mechanic that’s grown to become quite smitten with you. He’s on his best behaviour, really, all things considered. However, when the guy takes it upon himself to try and use fixing a perfectly fine part on your ship as an excuse to stand indecently close to you, well…suddenly Black Squadron has an emergency meeting that the two of you need to get to.

(The Emergency Meeting takes place in a cramped broom closet. The agenda includes: Poe leaving a hot, possessive trail of kisses where the mechanic stained your wrist with oil marks, him slipping off your top to enthusiastically suck on your tits, and finally, the closing remarks—biting down on his goddamn belt to muffle your cries of pleasure as he sloppily, mercilessly fucks your cunt with his tongue.)

The second time, you unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately, really) happen to have caught the eye of one of the newer Generals after pulling a few impressive stunts in the air on your last mission. Poe is understandably jealous, and he just doesn’t like the guy to begin with, so it’s really not surprising when he swipes the keys to his office (and bends you over and fucks you right there on the General’s desk, slamming his throbbing cock into you repeatedly until his cum is pouring out of your cunt and splashing all over the freshly mopped floor.)

The third time…well. It’s been a long time coming, okay? Despite the way you politely continue to turn Foss down, he just won’t give up. The final straw is when the pilot brings you a bouquet of rare flowers he picked for you on his latest off-world mission (and Poe nearly snaps off a knob from where he’s watching in the cockpit of his T-70.) After spending nearly a half hour glaring at the flowers from where they’re sitting on a table across the room in your quarters later that night (they only bloom once every five years, you can’t bring yourself to toss them yet), Poe drags you out of bed under the guise that he wants to show you something in the hangar while everyone else is asleep.

You’re both a little tipsy after indulging in a few drinks, so you’re happy to oblige when Poe dares you to climb up on top of the starfighter parked beside yours—the one that belongs to Foss. However, the laughter dies on your lips when Poe hoists himself up, too, and crawls on top of you. Soft kisses turn desperate as Poe massages your clit, and he nearly shouts loud enough to wake up the entire base when you slide down his pants and begin to deep throat his cock until drool is slipping out of the corner of your mouth. (The next day, when Foss walks into the hangar and says “Good morning” to you, all you can think is that you really fucking hope Poe wiped up the flood cum that came gushing out of your pussy after he fucked you senseless on top of this guy’s goddamn ship.)

One night, when an eager pilot tries to buy you a drink at a rowdy catina, Poe rolls his eyes and scoffs. Feeling feisty, you take a long sip from the drink, not breaking eye contact with your boyfriend the entire time. Poe decides he almost doesn't give a fuck about getting caught anymore when he leads you down into a dark, quiet hallway of the building shortly after and coyly puts two fingers in your mouth. You suck on them eagerly as you grind down against his thigh, and he pushes up the hem of the dress you wore for him with his other hand, moaning as he realizes you didn't bother wearing anything underneath. You're confused for a moment when he reaches over to take a sip of his drink once he's balls deep inside of you, until he nudges you lips open with his fingers again and spits the spotchka into your mouth.

Look. Honestly, you may or may not have developed a bit of a Pavlovian response to the whole thing at this point. Now, as soon as you find yourself in a situation where you know Poe will likely start getting a bit antsy and jealous, you automatically begin to feel your cunt begin to drip with arousal. Then you’re forced to discreetly clench your thighs together to relieve the ache between your legs as you imagine the way Poe will be eagerly sheathing his length inside of your glistening folds the moment he gets you alone.

It doesn’t take long for Poe to become privy to the fucked up pattern that he’s created. One day, when you both stumble into his quarters after a particularly grating meeting with the aforementioned General, you’re busted the moment he slides a hand down the waistband of your pants and realizes that your underwear are completely soaked with your sticky arousal. You come hard on his fingers almost immediately, and a new fire ignites behind his eyes as he murmurs, “You like when I get jealous because you know it means I’m going to fill this pretty pussy up, don't you, sweetheart?” as he pulls you into his lap and plunges his cock inside of you.

Though finding a discreet way to track it down during his down time on a mission was a feat in and of itself, Poe proudly presents you with an oddly-shaped item one night…and a bet. Not one to lose, you spend the next day absolutely feverish with arousal as you meekly try to make your way around the base with the object plugged inside of you. After blowing his load inside of your ass, Poe had slipped the head of it past your sensitive, tight ring of muscle. In theory, the idea of secretly having Poe’s cum sloshing around inside of you all day made you feel downright fucking cock drunk. But in reality, you last less than an hour before you’re dashing into the women’s fresher, shoving down your pants, hardly taking a moment to observe the arousal that’s dripped all down your thighs before pulling out the plug and thrusting your fingers into your needy cunt.

Poe knew this would happen, so he jogs down the hallway and slips into the fresher behind you moments later, swiftly locking the door. He fucks you from behind while you grip the edges of the sink, staring at you in the mirror as he buries his cock in your soaked, fluttering hole and whispers in your ear, “Looks like you need to be filled up again.”

—

Comments, reblogs, and/or asks are always appreciated!

» POE DAMERON MASTERLIST » OSCAR ISAAC MASTERLIST

#Poe Dameron fanfiction #Poe Dameron fanfic #Poe Dameron headcanons #Poe Dameron imagine #Poe Dameron x reader #Poe Dameron smut #Oscar Isaac fanfiction #Star Wars fanfiction #Star Wars fanfic #Star Wars smut #dee writes

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townsendstone9 · 2 years

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Online Data Entry - A Guide For Students To An Effective Data Entry Work!

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commonwealthoccurences · 3 years

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How the Companion’s Unwind With Sole

Request: “Hey! How do you think the companions would unwind after a long day traveling/scavenging/working with the Sole Survivor?”

CW/TW: None

Note: I made this a mix of long-term friendship and mutual, undiscussed crushing. I.e. extremely comfortable with each other, but not technically together (since it wasn’t specified.) I hope that’s okay!

Cait:

Cait’s a big fan of napping as a form of bonding. After a long day, Sole and Cait can be found tangled together, sprawled across something. They usually drop wherever their energy runs out; sometimes this means they make it to the couch, or sometimes they’re on the floor using their jackets as a blanket. If it’s extremely hot, the repaired tub comes in handy. They fill it with water and end up passed out together in the tub, wearing the Commonwealth equivalent of a bathing suit. No one wants to wake them up if needed; they’re scary when they’re not allowed to get their full nap in.

Curie:

Initially, she struggles quite a bit with the concept of unwinding at the end of the day. At first the only time she stops and relaxes is if she physically can’t move due to exhaustion. Eventually, Sole learns to get her to relax with them by giving her little, semi-productive tasks (in the vein of hobbies); sewing, if her fingers are up for it, drawings (Sole swears there’s a scientific reason for needing her drawings), etc. It takes a while to get Curie into the swing of actually unwinding at the end of the day.

Danse:

Danse never really allows himself to do nothing. At the end of a long day, he and Sole eat together in the cafeteria in silence; Danse enjoys intellectual discussion with them and their tales of the Wasteland, but both of them are too tired to speak, and he values comfortable silence even more. Once they’ve recharged a little they head either to the workshop or his quarters and work on their armor or weapons in that reassuring silence. If they’ve been “friends” long enough, Sole will lean their back against him while they work. Danse finds the weight that reminds him of their presence reassuring.

Deacon:

Sole and Deacon can be found inconveniencing literally everyone in the Railroad. They often lay in the middle of the main walkways of the Railroad HQ, Deacon’s feet propped up on someone’s chair, Sole upside down in someone else's. Sometimes Deacon’s reading, sometimes Sole’s loudly reciting old Pre-War tales. If Deacon has enough energy he’s loudly singing along to the Diamond City radio or telling stories in accents that have Sole crying with laughter. Eventually, they both fall asleep in the most awkward of positions, and the other members of the Railroad are forced to step over/around them. Desdemona has wheeled Sole, asleep, upside down in their chair, to the corner of the HQ so they were less inconvenient before. Sole stayed asleep.

Gage:

Gage kicks his feet up on the top of the Grille and is probably smoking or drinking. Another companion that enjoys mutual silence, he doesn’t mind when Sole joins him on the couch and curls up with their head against his shoulder or on his thigh. They simply watch the clouds drift by and the day turn to night. The ultimate luxury is to waste time, and it’s rare that they get to have that.

Haylen:

Back in Haylen’s quarters, she and Sole are tangled together quite lazily. Sole’s propped up on a borrowed pillow, doing what they please, either reading or messing with their Pip-Boy. Haylen’s leaned quite crookedly, her legs swung over Sole’s lap, their hand on her shin, reading. Eventually, Sole falls asleep and Haylen brings the blanket up to cover them. Once she feels sleep taking hold of her, too, she crawls under the blanket and curls up, close to Sole, but not touching.

Hancock:

As stereotypical and predictable as it may be, they’re either at the Third Rail drinking and dancing if they have the energy, their laughter filling the room, or in his room. Hancock’s higher than a kite, stunned into silence, listening to Sole’s voice spin tales he couldn’t imagine, post or pre-war. They’re joined at the hip, Sole’s head on his chest or vice versa. Physical affection isn’t unusual for them at that point, so they look more like a couple than any of the other companions and Sole would.

MacCready:

MacCready prefers to enjoy his comic books at the end of a long day. He doesn’t care where he ends up or how Sole folds into him, he’s lost in the stories he’s reading. Sole often comes up to him when he’s reading and just curls into his side. He lifts his arm for them to tuck into him without a word and continues his comic while they drift off to sleep.

Nick:

If Sole’s not drained by the end of the day, he takes them out to eat. 99% of the time they’re too busy to do anything but eat whatever they have in the Agency on the go/while they’re working, so getting them Power Noodles or eating elsewhere is a gesture of time off and becomes synonymous with a nonverbal, “Good job.” They make it a rule not to talk about work during those moments, so instead they enjoy some banter and good conversation. At the end of the day, when they’re back at the Agency, Nick refuses to let them return to work.

Piper:

Most of the time she makes sure to schedule the next day off for them and lets them do what they want. She’s more than willing to follow whatever they have planned, whether it’s travelling somewhere (locally), or just taking a nap and only waking to eat. She’s exhausted too, and not having to make a decision is work off her plate.

Preston:

Preston is another companion who has to be taught how to relax. Sole gives him tasks like helping them cook or “keep an eye on Dogmeat. No, sit down on the couch, I promise it’s the best position to watch him.” in order to get him to stop working himself to the bone. He catches on after the first couple of times, but plays along. He thinks it’s extremely sweet that they’d go through the trouble and also finds humor in them having to come up with excuses and “tasks.” Eventually, though, even if they both try to stay awake to talk to each other, they fall asleep sitting up on the couch together, slumped together.

X6-88 (Post-Institute):

X6-88 has a complex about proving himself useful, especially after the Institute, so convincing him to relax is a long process. Eventually, Sole wins him over by explaining that, scientifically, it helps your body recharge and makes you more productive, even if it doesn’t seem like it. After a long day, weather permitting, they lay in the back fields of Sanctuary and look at the stars. Sometimes they talk, sometimes they don’t. Eventually, X6-88 lays with his head resting on their chest and falls asleep listening to Sole’s heartbeat, the cool breeze washing away the stress of the day.

#Fallout 4 #Fo4 #Headcanons #Blurbs #Fluff #Mutual Pining #Curie #Cait #Deacon #Paladin Danse #Gage #Mayor Hancock #Rj MacCready #Nick Valentine #Scribe Haylen #Preston Garvey #Piper #X6-88

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bartistic · 3 years

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Bruce Goes To The Market!

knife tw, food cw, incredibly dumb self-indulgent concept cw, outsider (oc) pov

It is universally acknowledged that a cashier possessing free time, will be in want of an extra task to fill that free time. At least, that’s what James’ managers seemed to think. Privately, he agreed, as he found restocking the shelves to be a most agreeable pastime, one that could in fact suck up hours of his eight hour closing shift.

He was in the soda aisle, debating whether sparkling water belonged with seltzer or with the rest of the store brand items, when he noticed a broad-shouldered man in sunglasses and a Gotham University sweatshirt, inspecting the selection of diet tonic water and looking utterly flummoxed. Customer in need of assistance!

“Hi, how are you doing tonight? You need help finding anything?” Mentally, James winced at the preppy-ness of his ‘customer service robot voice’ as his favorite coworker Stephie liked to call it. Luckily, he’d thrown his voice out enough screaming to Queen karaoke the night before that his voice stayed in the normal octaves rather than shooting into the stratosphere. The man straightened up and looked down towards James, who suddenly felt very short in all of his 5’9” glory. (Well, 5’8 3/4” but who’s counting.)

“Yes, actually. I’m new to the store, could you direct me to where the soap is?” Oh god. Of all the things it had to be the one item James swore was never in the same aisle twice.

“Of course!” He lied through his teeth. “Here, right this way.” Turning, he set off towards the general direction of where the soap tended to lie, with a variation of four different aisles. Luckily, the first aisle was correct, and he watched, intrigued, as the customer gave a thorough inspection to at least 14 different bars of soap. “Anything else I can help you with?” He added, as the man finally selected a bar and placed it in his basket. The man looked sheepish.

“This is actually the first time I’ve been in a grocery store. I’m not usually the one doing the shopping. My—the person I live with gave me a list, but I honestly don’t know where or even what half of these things are.” He held out a grocery list, scrawled in an elegant cursive. It was double-sided. James checked the front of the store, where the other cashier was engrossed in his phone while trying not to appear engrossed in his phone. It was an hour and a half until they closed, and he was pretty sure there was only one other customer in the store at most.

“Sure! Alright, so our first step should probably be to hit the deli, seeing as they have the longest wait times.” After walking the man through ordering Roast Beef, Prosciutto, Pastrami, Swiss, Havarti, Gouda, and Picante Provolone (what) they moved on to the canned goods. “We should probably grab a cart, I don’t think that basket’s going to be able to hold all of this.” Turning into the canned goods aisle, James sighed.

“Caution: Hazard Detected! Precaución, ¡Peligro Detectado!” The store’s resident useless robot assistant was stuck in place, screaming at a small bit of an onion peel that had fallen to the floor.

“Batsy, I swear to god.” James went over and kicked the peel under one of the shelves, pressing the button on the robot to reboot it.

“...Batsy?” The customer sounded somewhere between bemused and amused. Perhaps just ‘mused.

“Yeah, it’s our obtuse robot that only sees what’s right in front of it and makes a big fuss over literally nothing. It can’t even clean anything up, and the few moments there actually is a spill it just skids through it and makes it worse. Technically corporate calls it Patsy, short for Patrick, because we’re Patrick’s, you know? But since this is Gotham, we call it Batsy. Short for... Batrick. I’m not the one who came up with the name, that honor goes to my coworker Stephie. She’s, uh, not working tonight.” James internally began banging his head against the shelves. Why. Was. He. Like. This. “So, do you know what brand of chickpeas your... roommate wanted?”

/ / /

Finally, after another 45 minutes of shopping, they were ready to check out. James noticed the shift had changed while he was away. “Alright, so I can actually take you at this register over here, ‘cuz I’m still logged in and all.” He gulped as the customer began to load up onto the belt. This was... a lot of food. He’d scanned around a quarter when he officially ran out of room, turning to bagging instead. “Let’s get you another cart, actually, so we can load into that without squishing what you haven’t unpacked yet.” He moved to go grab one, but the customer was faster, jogging back with another cart before he could even finish bagging all the protein shakes. There were, admittedly, a lot of protein shakes.

Scanning the meat-substitutes, James scanned his own mind for an avenue of conversation. “So, you mentioned that it’s your son who’s the vegetarian. How old is he?”

“He’s 13. It’s not religious or health-wise or anything, he just really loves animals. Our house is practically a zoo on a good day, and that’s not even counting all his siblings.”

“Oh, how many kids do you have?” It had to be a fair amount for it to be ‘all’ his siblings. The customer opened his mouth as if to answer, then shut it again. He seemed to be thinking. Did he... not know how many kids he had??

“Legally I have... fffffour? Five? Yeah... that sounds right.” James tried to hide the bewildered expression in his own face, but he must not have been doing it well. “That makes me sound like such a bad father. No, I promise, I love them all, I just have quite a few of their friends living with us as well, and I’ve known those kids long enough to feel like they’re my kids too. Not to mention the whole difference between the ones I’ve adopted, the one who was my ward who I then retroactively adopted, the one I’m fostering, and the one who is legally an emancipated minor. And... the one who. Is no longer with us.” James blinked. That was indeed complicated.

“You must have a lot of love in your heart,” he settled on, finally.

“I just h— Oh, #%*$.” The blueberry container had burst open, all over the floor. James internally groaned.

“Oh no! Sorry about that, that’s the third one tonight. The packaging is just... not great. Do you want me to go get you another one?”

“No, I can get it. Thanks though.” The customer gingerly stepped through the minefield as James power walked to go get the clean up supplies. Six feet away, Batsy was screaming at a blueberry.

“Eat your heart out, Mister Miyagi,” he aimed a light roundhouse kick at the button to reboot the robot. Batsy got two feet before it encountered another world-ending-threat, danger level blueberry. James sighed and went to go clear that area first.

/ / /

Finally, almost everything was scanned. James was scanning the bread and rolls as the customer fit all the bags into the two carts, like an expert game of tetris. There were a few hiccups where James had had to explain that you probably shouldn’t bag Raid with milk, or that it was a good idea to double bag heavy items, or that you should wait until the end to put the eggs in (and there were a lot of eggs. Gaston-levels of eggs. Probably to be expected with that many kids in the house. Hah. eggs-pected.) But by the end they were working like a well-oiled machine. James bagged the last item, hit the button to total it, and watched as the customer realized he forgot his deli items.

“I’m just gonna— gonna run and go get those real quick. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, sure. Can you fill out the charity question real quick though? Th...thanks.” The customer was gone before James could question him on the fact that he’d used the custom amount option to apparently donate $1k to Gotham General’s children’s ward. It was... probably a mistake, but he’d wait around to check. He turned as he heard the beginnings of a commotion behind him, from the one other customer in the store. This guy’s whole aesthetic just screamed gross, from the white-boy dreads to the Blue Lives Matter gaiter mask. It looked as if he was having trouble at self-checkout. James was about to head over to help when his coworker passed him. He turned back to keep an eye on the clock. 10 minutes until closing. Please come back with the deli items soon. He heard an aggressive murmuring that sent chills up his spine, a distinct feeling of Not Right Bad. He turned back to where his coworker was engaged with helping the other customer. His coworker who was... very pale. Frightened. The customer whose hand glinted silver with... oh #%*$, that’s a knife. Not Good Very Bad... oh hell no, you are not hurting my coworker on my watch.

“HEY #%$&FACE, EAT BEANS!” As the aggressive customer turned to meet the container of garbanzo beans that was currently hurtling towards his face at the maximum speed a theatre-kid-who-never-did-sports could throw, the world seemed to throw down. Faintly, James could hear rational thoughts pounding at the door to his mind, begging to be let in. Thoughts like ‘They’re definitely going to fire you for attacking a customer’ and ‘They’re definitely going to fire you for cursing in front of a customer’ and ‘They’re definitely going to fire you for damaging the merchandise’ and ‘You can’t even throw a ball to save your life, there’s no way that’s going to hit him.’ Praying to Freddie Mercury, Elton John, and all other things holy, James watched as the beans sailed through the air and struck their target true— albeit a little lower than planned.”

Grossface automatically brought his hands down to protect his nethers, apparently forgetting that their was a knife in his hands. He let out a second agonized howl as he stabbed himself in the balls. Blindly, James groped around for more ammunition. Holding out a zucchini as threateningly as he could, he watched as the would-be aggressor ran out of the store as fast as he could with both hands clasping his junk. “Are you okay?” He asked his coworker, feeling his voice echo through the suddenly very-quiet-sounding store. She nodded mutely. He nodded back, then turned back to his register and oH shit there’s His Customer, holding the deli items.

“Nice shot.” Okay, this time he definitely sounded amused.

“I... am so sorry about the beans, I can get you a refund on those or I can go get you some more or—”

“No need, they definitely went to a good cause.” The customer grinned and held out the deli items. Faintly, James began to wrestle with the bag to get to the barcodes. Finally, everything was scanned, for good.

“Alright, will that be everything?” The clock read two minutes until closing.

“Yes, that should be everything. Again, thank you for all your help.” James watched as even with the membership points taken off, the total soared to over $750.

“Alright, your total is... $754.33, here’s some coupons and a survey slip. If you fill that out you get entered for a drawing to win a $500 gift card. Which... I don’t know that you’d need, but. Why not.” The customer reached into his wallet and counted out 5 $100 bills. Then he pulled out a black card. He paid off the total with the card, then handed the bills to James.

“Here you go, I wasn’t sure how much you tip cashiers.” James opened and closed his mouth a few times, like a fish.

“People don’t normally... tip cashiers...” and especially not HUNDREDS OF DOLLARS.

“Oh. Well, you were a good cashier. You deserve it. And here—” at this he pulled a crisp business card out of his wallet. “At Wayne Enterprises we could use quick-thinkers like you.” Pulling down his sunglasses, he gave a quick wink. James waved absentmindedly as BRUCE #%*$ING WAYNE walked out of the store. He looked down at the business card. Written upon it were the words: “Call here for an interview, mention Malone and they’ll know I sent you. Best of luck with the current job— BW”

James sat down. The clock was 10 minutes past closing before he remembered to look at it. There were a million thoughts running through his head. Oh my god I joked around to a billionaire. I cursed in front of a billionaire. I chucked a can of beans into a man’s nutsack in front of a billionaire.

But oddly enough, the only question that remained at the top of his mind was this:

This is because I have black hair and blue eyes, isn’t it.

#batfam #batman #bruce wayne #crack fic babey #my writing #written over the course of 2 hours following an 8 hour shift #shameless self-insert time

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shihalyfie · 3 years

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“There is no one right way to live”

Adventure and 02 really make up an unusual series in many ways, and I think one of them is how kind it is to the human condition. One of its most consistent commitments is to portraying its kids as “real children” -- as in, messy kids with some very deep nuances to their behavior, in ways that don’t reflect what you’d usually expect from media tropes. In some ways, it ended up backfiring (tropes are not inherently a bad thing, and it’s led to miscommunication that persists to this day because the audience has to fight a tendency to read the characters through the kinds of tropes we’re all expecting to find), but it also had the effect that these kids could be intimately relatable to the audience in ways that “textbook” portrayals of kids often wouldn’t be.

Adventure had eight main characters in its human cast, which was extended to twelve in 02 -- a massive balancing act -- and yet took the stance that none of these twelve characters’ very different ways of thinking or living life are fundamentally wrong. Rather, it celebrates the differences between them, and encourages them to embrace them about themselves. But it also does not shy away from the struggles those with each line of thinking might have in terms of communicating and interacting with the world. It’s easy to say words like “be yourself”, but what does “be yourself” really mean?

“Each character’s way of thinking”

Most people tend to define “character development” by “how much the character changed over the course of the narrative”, but if you look carefully, not all of the characters change that much. In fact, Koushirou and Miyako’s character arcs are about how they shouldn’t have to change much about themselves!

What we do get to see, however, is everyone’s intimate thought processes. We’re given so much information about each kid’s background and how it shapes their ways of thinking, and how they react to given situations, that you can get six fanfiction writers who have studied the series well and give them a completely hypothetical situation with some of the characters, and most if not all of them will roughly agree, because each kid’s thought pattern is so well detailed that you can easily imagine how they’d behave even when the scenario is hypothetical.

This, despite the fact that Adventure and 02 rarely use internal monologue (this is something specific to its Japanese version; while Japanese anime generally has less of this compared to Western shows, Adventure and 02 are unusually low on this even compared to later Digimon series, and it’s a possible byproduct of the narrative being eventually revealed to be from Takeru’s perspective and not someone truly omniscient). This is something that also somewhat backfired in that characters who are difficult to read or unaware of their own feelings become very difficult for the audience to read, so you have to read their behavior patterns and put two and two together (such as Takeru outright lying about his feelings regarding his childhood in Adventure episode 12, or Sora’s testimony about her confrontation with her mother not quite tracking with what’s actually depicted in Adventure episode 26). It does, however, have a very powerful weapon that it uses to help the audience understand each character’s mentalities and what they’re thinking at a given moment...

Digimon partners! In a sense, “talking with a Digimon partner” is a replacement for internal monologue, because the kids spill their internal feelings to their partners as if they’re talking to themselves. (Protip for all of you fanfic writers out there who struggle to figure out how to integrate the Digimon smoothly into the narrative: “cutting out most of your internal monologue and replacing it with a conversation with a Digimon partner” is one of your most reliable fallbacks.) This is helpful for characters like Koushirou, who initially starts off Adventure as very isolated from the others but immediately takes well to Tentomon, and Ken, who spends a good part of 02′s third quarter still very emotionally distant from the others and not entirely willing to open up to them, but very conversely willing to open up to his own partner. Iori converses about his conflicted feelings regarding the situation with Upamon during the process of forming his Jogress relationship with Takeru, and, back in Adventure, Takeru himself was willing to show his more “less well-behaved” side in front of Patamon that he normally wouldn’t when he was constantly in the presence of elders.

On top of that, Digimon partners being reflective of the kids’ own personalities in some sense means that they are very good at asking just the right questions at the right time, or saying perfectly well-timed things that the kids needed to hear the most, to get them to reconsider their position or realize that they might be going in the wrong direction...

Moreover, we get a lot of help in 02 simply by virtue of the fact it’s about relationships -- I’ve said this a few times before, but 02 is not a series about platitudes or toxic positivity, and has a strong emphasis on “you must understand the other person’s feelings if you want to truly reach out to them.” Showering happy platitudes about friendship on them means nothing if you’re still technically dismissing their feelings and making zero attempt to figure out why they feel this way! Therefore, everyone only accepts Ken when they each come to understand his feelings on the situation, and the Jogress arcs involve the relevant parties making active attempts to “understand the other person’s feelings” and what exactly makes them behave the way they do, before addressing their problems using what they need most at that moment. Being able to push people forward in a positive direction requires having a proper understanding of all of the negativity that came with it, accepting them in spite of that, and choosing to address what they need.

And in 02 episode 49, Daisuke says something that embodies a lot of Adventure and 02′s attitude towards these things: it’s not a sin to have feelings. Your reaction or way of seeing things, based on your backgrounds and experiences that have shaped you, is not something you can be blamed for having, whether that means being worried, sad, frustrated, angry, resentful, what have you. The only question is what you do in response to your feelings.

It’s easy to say “be yourself”, but that’s obviously a problem if you “be yourself” by rampantly ignoring what other people think and trampling on other people’s feelings, and it’s also a problem if “being yourself” is causing problems for others, and it’s especially a problem if “being yourself” is also hurting yourself while you’re at it -- so what does it mean to be true to yourself?

It’s not about your inherent personality traits, it’s about what you choose to do with them

As I said earlier, Adventure and 02 all arguably celebrate the fact that everyone is so different, and has their own skills to contribute to the group. Everyone has different strengths and weaknesses, and everyone makes up for each other’s weaknesses when they work together. And some of these characters do change in order to become “better people”. But what does being a “better person” mean? How does that tie into still “being true to yourself”, and yet changing at the same time?

02 episode 18 has Miyako in possibly one of her worst bouts of loss of control -- she has an effective panic attack and starts yelling at everyone in all directions, resulting in Hawkmon getting hurt. However, everyone here understands that Miyako meant well and was trying her best given the situation, and nobody scorns her for it, with Hikari even arranging for Miyako and Hawkmon to have proper space to emotionally air things out. Again: it was not a sin for Miyako to have feelings of anxiety, but it was a problem once those feelings led to causing trouble for others -- as in, trampling on their feelings, not having enough regard for their welfare, and such. Well-intentioned or not, Miyako just caused problems, and for that, Miyako labels herself as a “bad” person (tying into her ongoing character arc that involved negatively comparing herself to more mature and put-together people). However, Hawkmon assures her that he likes her the way she is.

But Miyako can’t keep going on like this -- it would obviously be very bad for her to keep being inconsiderate and trample on others’ feelings! But what does happen is that Miyako simply learns to channel these traits in the correct direction -- it’s established that, on the flip side, her being over-the-top brings joy to other people by making them laugh (02 episodes 31, 36, 38), and her aggressive personality is able to reach out to those like Hikari who are too closed in and on another unhealthy extreme! And as it turns out, she is capable of channeling all of those “aggressive” qualities into “aggressively”...reaching out to others and proactively supporting them; all she needed was a bit better sense of regulation so that her energy would go to the places she wanted them to be, rather than rampantly all over the place to the point of causing trouble. She didn’t have to fundamentally change herself into someone like Mimi or Hikari; it was just about adjusting her way of going about things just enough so that she could become more considerate.

Even all the way back in Adventure episode 10, all of the “problems” caused in this episode specifically have to do with Koushirou ending up (accidentally) being inconsiderate to Mimi and Palmon and not taking their feelings enough into account. Again, Koushirou is not treated as if his feelings are wrong or malicious -- he even states that he thinks that the research he’s doing will help everyone in the long run -- but his way of handling this situation is awful, and, regardless of his intent, Mimi and Palmon are feeling abandoned and tossed aside.

For the rest of the series, Koushirou learns to hone his existing skills in analysis -- even his fixation tendencies are treated as a potentially valuable trait -- and, once we learn the details about how he started keeping distance from everyone due to the shock of learning he was adopted and his social anxiety tendencies in Adventure episode 38, Koushirou momentarily tries to force himself to use casual language, and his parents assure him that he doesn’t have to force himself to change. In the end, it’s not an inherent sin for Koushirou to have social anxiety, nor that he needs more time to adjust to becoming more casual with others -- according to Adventure episode 54, he does want to get closer to others eventually, but even Tentomon says he shouldn’t force himself. Koushirou “working past” his social issues doesn’t mean he suddenly has to turn himself into a socialite overnight, but rather, he simply needs to do enough to be able to communicate with others without (accidentally or otherwise) ignoring others’ important feelings. Thus, in 02, he’s still working on becoming less distant from everyone, but he’s managed to become someone who can communicate with and organize people, and is well-respected for it.

A recurring theme in Adventure and 02 is that there’s a good and a bad side to everything, and so if we look at the twelve kids over Adventure and 02, we can see that a lot of the “good things” and “bad things” about them really stem from the same thing:

Taichi: Being an ambitious person who can oversee people in disparate places and bring them together (good) also means that he’s not always good at checking the nuances or other potentially negative contingencies, and can be rather insensitive (bad)

Yamato: Being emotionally sensitive to others means he can be passionate and open about everything, and compassionate to others (good), but also means he can get explosively angry and lose control of himself (bad)

Sora: Being caring towards others and supportive (good) means that she can also end up developing self-destructive tendencies due to her perceived obligations to others (bad)

Koushirou: Being constantly curious and fixated on learning more means he can get to the bottom of things and answer questions that others can’t (good) but also means he can get too absorbed in it and not be able to take others into account (bad)

Mimi: Being extremely sensitive and empathetic means that she’s open-minded, compassionate, and all-loving (good) but also that she takes any kind of discomfort or emotionally draining thing extra hard, and may all too often be unable to take a stand even when she really should (bad)

Jou: Being constantly invested in everyone’s welfare and compelled to help them means he’s very honest and dutiful and otherwise reliable (good) but also means he can make very reckless decisions because he’s so stressed about everyone and everything (bad)

Takeru: Being good at maintaining an atmosphere of moderation and generally being able to handle very tough things means that he has a very strong grip on himself and doesn’t cause trouble for others easily (good) but also means he’s prone to sudden and irrational emotional outbursts because he’s suppressing so badly that he gets no catharsis and isn’t being honest about his own feelings (bad)

Hikari: Being compassionate and all-loving means that she can put her foot down easily for the sake of others and advocate for kindness (good) but also means that her desire to not be a burden on others makes her compulsively unable to vocalize any of her own personal problems to the point of self-destruction and passiveness (bad)

Daisuke: Being so deferential to others and pure-hearted means that he can focus practically on what needs to be done and be a supportive person to others (good) but also means that he’s prone to insecurity, defensiveness, and lack of assertiveness in the face of others (bad)

Miyako: Being over-the-top and full of bright energy means that she can bring joy to others and can reach out to those who have troubles (good) but also means that she has difficulty having restraint from losing control of herself (bad)

Iori: Being humble and a principled person means that he’s good at approaching things directly and driven by a constant desire to do good (good) but also can be so fixated on those principles that he clings onto them even far beyond practicality, and is constantly restraining himself more than should be necessary (bad)

Ken: Being assertive and able to have firm will means that he can get what he wants done for others and show kindness when he needs to (good) but also means that the same assertiveness can be used for uncontrolled sadism and inflicting pain on others (bad)

So, again: all of these characters are encouraged to embrace all of the good things about themselves, and to channel them in ways that are productive or healthy or help them live happily alongside others; all of those “bad” traits also being there doesn’t necessarily mean they have to blot out those personality aspects that have good sides to them as well! It’s just that those “bad” things need to be kept in check so that they don’t cause trouble, and you can read all of these character arcs in ways that involve everyone changing just enough to make sure those “bad” things don’t go rampant and cause problems everywhere -- and everyone’s an imperfect human being, so it’s unlikely that they’ve completely gotten rid of those entirely even into adulthood -- but they have better awareness of what they need to do, and how to better adjust themselves into better people.

Look at the difference between Ken and Daisuke -- Ken had to go through some massive changes because, as the Kaiser, his “bad” traits were going over the top and causing all sorts of harm to everyone, and there was a huge journey he had to go through to get that all in check, whereas Daisuke was always clearly a very pure-hearted person from the get-go and didn’t have to adjust himself as much. Yet you could say the same thing about both of them -- by Ken learning that his efforts and assertiveness were misplaced, and by Daisuke getting around his constant insecurity and need for validation in order to better lead everyone forward, they basically did the same thing, just in different ways, and they’re both better people for it.

And it’s also the philosophy Jou endorses in Adventure episode 50 -- Mimi and Jou aren’t people who are necessarily best at fighting, and this isn’t inherently a sin. It’s just that they need to find ways to productively play to their own strengths in ways that are true to themselves. If Mimi can’t bring herself to engage in direct violence, she can at least use her skills to bring together everyone else who wants to protect the Digital World and prevent more casualties, and if Jou is, by his own admission, “not strong”, he can consider a path ahead of him that involves becoming a healer who can help those who are wounded, and prevent casualties that way.

There is no one right way to live.

What it is you want to do

Here’s an interesting question about the 02 epilogue, and, while we’re at it, 02 episode 50 as a whole: Why are “careers” brought up so much? Timeskip epilogues are hardly new to 02 (and of course have popped up in media for years thereafter), but not all of them involve careers, and even fewer of them have that much focus on shoving “careers” into your face as the main centerpoint, especially since usually this kind of thing would be about family lives or romance or something (and we can say a lot about how the 02 epilogue cared so much about the career thing that it was blatantly prioritizing it over the hot-topic romance issue of Yamato and Sora).

Because, in the end, a career -- or, perhaps, a “future aspiration”, because various details about how the epilogue is presented indicate that “the career that defines your income and adult life” may not actually be the correct term here -- is the ultimate manifestation of “what it is you want to do with your life”. The point driven home by 02 episode 50 is that such a thing should be “what you want to do”, and, given that this was originally supposed to be the Adventure ending before 02 was conceived, it also ties into Adventure’s own theme of “finding your own path”. All of those “careers” listed in the 02 epilogue feel a lot more nonsensical when you think about it in terms of the material hobbies they had during the series, but make significantly more sense when you frame it in terms of what kind of personality each person had and what they would prioritize. Materially, if you think about what Taichi had as a “hobby” during Adventure and 02, it would be soccer, but when you think about him being “an ambitious, wide-reaching leader who brings people from different places together”, his career of “diplomat to bring two worlds together” makes much more sense. It wasn’t about what they’re doing to pay the bills; it’s about “what’s most important in each of their lives”.

And, as far as the series is concerned, none of these decisions are the “wrong” ones; if there’s a “wrong” decision, it’s the one 02 (and later Kizuna) warned you about, in terms of blotting your own self out and making yourself unhappy because you did it for the sake of society’s expectations instead of for yourself. There’s even a difference between the Adventure group and 02 group in their own priorities, in that the former is more individualistic and far-reaching in terms of personal ambition, and the latter prioritizes mutual support and living simpler lives as long as it makes them happy, and as far as Adventure and 02 are concerned, that’s all fine, because those are choices that suit their own dispositions and fit things that they want to do first and foremost.

Everyone is different, everyone has different priorities, and everyone has different ways to live. Everyone has different perspectives and feelings, and once the arguments are ironed out, those should be cherished and celebrated.

#digimon #digimon adventure #digimon adventure 02 #shihameta

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writing-with-olive · 3 years

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Tracking goals with a bulletin board instead of a planner

I don't know how helpful this is going to be to everyone, but switching away from using a planner was an absolute GAME CHANGER, so I'm going to share my system because it's not as intuitive as a planner, but at least for me, it's much more effective.

This got kinda long(ish) so the following is under the cut:

why I switched from using a planner to using a bulleting board

what kind of goals I set with this system

measuring success

how it actually works (how to set it up, and use it to actually track goals)

affordability (spoiler alert: it’s better than most planners)

First of all, why did I switch?

My biggest issue with using a planner was that I wasn't seeing my goals often enough. In the closed pages of a book, they are very nicely hidden, and goals I can't see are goals that don't exist. This took me, oh..... five years to realize (starting when I first tried setting and tracking goals), but once I did, everything suddenly made sense. As far as I can tell, the more often you're interacting with your goals, the more likely you are to complete them.

What kind of goals do I set?

I track goals quarterly, which means I set new goals at the start of every three months (January, April, July, October). This is pretty effective, as I can set ambitious enough goals that I have to actually work to meet them, but there's enough space for setbacks like "I don't wanna" and "Oh look! Life!" without completly obliterating my chances of being able to finish. Quarterly goals are also pretty standard, at least for corporate America (idk about elsewhere, but it seems fairly likely).

In terms of content, I set several goals for the following catagories:

school/academics (if you don't go to school, work-based goals could go here instead)

social media and writing (most of my social media presence revolves around writing, so I kinda lump them together)

personal/private goals (home-based, tasks that I need to set aside more time to do, family, etc)

self care/habits I want to build (take a walk daily, eat breakfast, screentime limits, read books, etc)

This quarter, I have five for each section, which means twenty goals overall. That's a lot. (I'll get to my metric of success in a sec) The benifit though, is that pretty much all of the most important parts of my life are accounted for, meaning that it's not about making time for my goals, it's about structuring my day so that the bulk of it focuses on one goal or another. Whenever I'm bored, I can see what I have on my goals list, and I'm usually able to find something that's interesting to me in the moment. (This method of spreading out goals to cover multiple facets of my life is heavily inspired by Jenna Moreci's goalsetting method)

How does success work?

(The stuff above was adapted from Jenna Moreci. This part is lifted wholesale from what she does.) I have a lot of goals. Because of that, it's pretty unlikely that I'm going to be able to complete all of them, and setting that expectation is a great way to end up failing, and lacking the motivation to do much of anything. Therefore, a successful quarter is completing at least 50% of the set goals. It's still a challenge - I still have to complete 10 goals in 12 weeks, but it's doable. A success is listed as a win, whereas not completing 50% is a loss. Since I am a competitive person by nature, putting it in a win/lose dichotomy is an excellent motivator.

This is great and all, but how do you actually set it up?

Okay this is the fun stuff! So it would seem like the board would get pretty crowded pretty quick, but it actually doesnt.

I do all of my tracking on notecards. Each card holds five goals on them, which I write in pen, and I mark my progress by highlighting a progress bar on top of the row I've written my goal on. This means I can tell at a glance what goals I have the most or least progress on, and approximately how far I have left to go. I don't have to get bogged down by writing out fractions/percentage completion, which would definitely clutter things up.

To set my board up overall, I used string to block out four columns, each with header labels: Quarter, Week, Day, and Other.

The quarter column is where I list all of my goals I've set without breaking it down into little pieces. I have four notecards in this section, each with five goals apiece. It's the way I track how far I am toward completing the whole goal. Since some goals take most of the quarter to complete, I only update the progress bars once a week.

The week column also has five notecards, but broken down into pieces I can accomplish in a seven-day period. Usually, I set it up, so that the goals on each card directly correspond to the goals on the quarter goal card to it's direct left. You can mix and match which goals you work on any given week, but it's effective for both keeping everything organized, and also for making sure I'm not neglecting anything. I also make sure to label each of the week goals what it's the week of (for example [W- Mar 4] would indicate that this is a weekly goal card, and also that it's the week of March 4th). This is useful in case I want to go back and see what I was up to at any given time.

The day column looks a little different in that there are only two notecards. This is to help limit what what volume I'm trying to take on, because one of the biggest demotivaters is seeing a giant pile of work and knowing there's no way to finish it in the time you've got. Usually, I align the first card with the top row established by my quarter/weekly goals, and I write out five things I want to achieve during the day based off what I've written in my top two weekly goal cards. The other card is on the third row, and corresponds to the third and fourth weekly goal cards. As a very strict rule, I don't give myself more than four hours of work each day (this excludes going to class). I've experimented with other timeframes, and I've found going over that number means my chances of doing what I've set out to do plummet if I assign myself more.

The Other section is where I keep all of my past week/day notecards. On top, I have my weekly goal notecards in one of those triangular paper clamp thingys (I have been informed that these are technically referred to as binder clips), organized in chronological order, with the most recent at the front. Below that, I have my daily goals. This way, I have my progress easily accessible (this comes in useful for proving that yes, I did do the dishes three times last week and yes, it's your turn)

How affordable is it?

Actually really affordable. Yes, it takes up more wall space, but you can get a bulletin board for about $20-$45 depending on where you shop (sometimes they cost more, but usually you can find one in the given range). Notecards cost on average about $3-$4 per 100 card pack (which lasts about two months if you use front and back). Thumbtacks cost about two to three dollars, and a small ball of yarn costs about three to seven dollars. This means tracking for the first quarter costs about $35-$60 dollars, but every quarter following is between $4 and $7.

For comparison, most quarterly planners, cost about $25-$35 dollars per quarter.

Over a year, that adds up to:

$50 - $80 for a bulletin board tracker

$100 - $140 for quarterly planners

Over two years, it adds up to

$65 - $100 for a bulletin board tracker

$200 - $280 for quarterly planners

Anyway, that got pretty long, but maybe it'll be helpful to you!

#writeblr #goalsetting #productivity #writers on tumblr #time management #quarterly goals #studyblr #academia #school #work #corporate america #completing goals #bulletin board #smart goals #highlighter progress bar #affordability #win lose system #olive's writing vibes

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eyayah-oya · 3 years

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Carry You With Me Always

Buckle up everyone, because I have three prompts today!

Cloneship Week 2021 - Tattoos - @cloneshipweek

Rex/Echo

Rating: G

Warnings: very vague references to something bad happening to Tup and Dogma in the past

Ao3 link--Ao3 has some world building notes about Tup, Dogma, and Mom Echo if you want to check those out!

Lazy days were Echo’s favorite. They always had been. Especially the days when Rex didn’t have to be a commander masquerading as a captain. (Echo still didn’t understand how hard it was to sign off on a promotion for Rex. Skywalker knew how to sign his own name.) It was the third day of leave on Coruscant, just when the duties required of the commanding officers tapered off to allow them time off just like their men.

Rex entered the officer barracks with two cups of caf and a datapad tucked under his arm. He must have recently taken a water shower, as he looked cleaner than the sonics were able to achieve. For a moment, Echo mourned the opportunity to shower with Rex but they figured there would be plenty of opportunities in the future.

“Morning,” Echo called, their voice deep and raspy from sleep.

He looked up, though Echo noted he didn’t actual startle. Rex only got that jumpy when he hadn’t been sleeping, so he at least got some rest since the 501st arrived on Coruscant. That was good. Echo had been worried when Rex hadn’t shown up the past two nights to the bunk they shared when not on the Resolute.

A warm smile, reserved just for Echo, softened Rex’s face and filled Echo with happiness. “Morning, Echo,” he responded. With ease, he set the two caf cups down on his desk without spilling a drop, the datapad following immediately after. Then, with slumped shoulders and tired eyes, he fell onto the bed beside Echo and nuzzled their shoulder.

“Meetings go badly?” they mused as ran their fingers across the closely cropped blonde hair.

“Eh, not too bad. Just long. General Mundi preached about the value of life again and Gree got into an argument with General Fisto over some obscure plant the 41st found on their last campaign. I think if they’d been in the same room, it would have become a physical fight.”

Echo snorted. “That would definitely be interesting to watch. What did General Unduli do?”

“I’m 90% sure she was either sleeping standing up, or talking to General Kenobi telepathically. Kenobi kept snickering every once in a while, so I wouldn’t put it past them.” Rex shook his head as best as he could from where his face was smooshed against Echo’s shoulder. “Anything big happen with the boys?”

“Denal and Attie got arrested again. I’m pretty sure they’re trying to court the intake officer in the Corrie’s brig. I escorted Dogma and Tup around the city the first day and ended up taking them to Tatta. You know, the vod who gives the best tattoos?”

Rex hummed in acknowledgment. “Can’t say I’ve ever had the pleasure, but I’ve heard he’s one of the best on Coruscant. Did Tup and Dogma end up getting any tattoos?”

“Tup got a little tear below his eye and Dogma got a really cool one over his face. Kix is gonna have a conniption when he sees that; you know how he is with large facial tattoos,” Echo said with amusement. “Dogma struggled a bit at first, but Tup talked him through his anxiety and held his hand.”

“That’s good. I’ll make sure to pair them up on campaigns. Aren’t they twins?”

Echo nodded. While not numerous, there were several sets of twins in the GAR. Commanders Thire and Thorn in the Corrie Guard, Kix and Captain Keeli, Tup and Dogma, Lupis and Canis in the Wolfpack, and of course Echo and their twin Fives. Commanding officers tried to keep twins together as much as possible, though it doesn’t always happen, like with Kix and Keeli.

“You could have warned me they were former Corries,” Echo grumbled. “Technically I was escorting them, but it was mostly them dragging me all over the city. Although, they did take me to this diner with the most amazing nerf burgers. I’ll have to take you sometime. They’re sweet kids, but they also could use a lot more support than the average vod. Something happened to them when they were with the Guard.”

Rex sighed. “I know. Fox briefed me on their situation. I won’t tell you what happened exactly—they should do that themselves—but it was bad. We’ll take care of them, I promise.”

“Good.” Echo nodded once and wrapped their left arm around Rex’s shoulder and pulled him in closer. Rex flung his own arm back over Echo. Immediately they hissed as their right pec flared with a stinging pain.

Immediately, Rex sat up in concern. “Echo? What’s wrong?”

Echo grinned sheepishly. “Well, Tup and Dogma were really nervous to get tattoos since the Guard isn’t allowed to have tattoos. And I might have gotten a tattoo to help them be more comfortable.”

“Really?” Rex grinned. Without hesitation, he gently placed his hand over Echo’s pec, exactly in the same spot he had left a handprint on their first set of armor. He didn’t have to guess what tattoo they had decided to get. Echo arched into the touch, the sting sharp and pointed and somehow exactly perfect. “Can I see it?” Rex asked softly.

“Help me get the shirt off, and yes,” Echo answered. They surged upwards, ignoring the pain from his tattoo, so they could press a heated and soft kiss to Rex’s lips.

With far more reverence than they usually have time for, Rex slid his fingers under the hem of their loose shirt, trailing over the firm muscles and warm skin. Echo shivered deliciously and lightly sucked on his lower lip, rather than help their boyfriend in any way. Inch by inch, more skin was revealed until Rex pulled away to tug the shirt over Echo’s head. They helped, lifting their arms over their head to allow the shirt to slide free.

In the exact same placement as their armor, a handprint had been tattooed completely in a darker blue than they used for their armor. The dark blue color the Rishi eel’s blood had been. The permanent mark on their skin was a bold proclamation of who Echo belonged to. A way to inform everyone who they went home to and who they would always go back for. That day on Rishi was life-changing for both of them for more than one reason. It was the day Echo had lost their batchmates, save for Fives, and the day they had both joined the 501st. It was the day Echo had first met Rex, a young shiny who was in awe of the legendary captain. And it was the day that began Echo’s journey of falling completely in love with the man behind the legend.

Rex traced the edges of the tattoo gently, barely ghosting over the skin. It was still swollen and red from the needle, but that would go away in a couple more days. Echo didn’t mind a little bit of pain if it meant they could wear Rex’s mark in his skin as well as their armor.

“Do you like it?” they asked cheekily, already knowing the answer.

“I love it. They did a really good job. Does it hurt a lot?” Rex asked.

Echo wobbled his head from side to side. “A little, but it’s not bad. Barely noticeable, really.”

“Good.” And with that, Rex pressed his hand against the mark and pushed Echo back onto the bed until he was leaning directly over them. “Because I need to show you exactly how much I like it.”

They eagerly reached up and wrapped their arms around Rex’s neck, pulling him down against them, though they both were careful not to dislodge his hand from its place on Echo’s chest. Echo pressed their forehead against Rex’s, letting them bask in the peaceful moment instead of the hurried seconds they only managed to snatch while out on the front. Eventually, the keldabe shifted to the more traditional type of kissing, their tongues tangling together languidly. They had all day and the rest of the tenday to relax and enjoy. They could take their time, and Echo couldn’t be happier.

“I love you,” they whispered between kisses.

“I love you, my eyayah. My Echo with my mark,” Rex answered before diving back into their mouth and showing them exactly how much he needed and loved them.

Echo shivered with delight, the intimacy of the moment barricading everything else from the Captain’s quarters. For a time, they existed in a bubble, cut off from the galaxy and perfectly at peace together.

Then, the bubble popped.

“Does the Captain really have to know? I mean, it’s not like he’d be surprised.”

“Fives, don’t be an idiot. You know he always needs to know when we brawl with the Wolfpack so he can keep Commander Wolffe from killing us.”

“But if we go in there, Echo will kill us.”

“I’d rather die by Echo’s hand than by Commander Wolffe’s! He’s scary!”

“Oh, lighten up, Jesse! I wouldn’t mind fighting with the Commander!”

“ . . . Hardcase . . . “

“What? It’s true!”

“I’m gonna tell him!”

“Fives, don’t you dare!”

With matching, heavy sighs, Echo and Rex broke apart and turned to the door. Yes, Echo loved lazy days. But those days never lasted long, and they loved their brothers just as much.

“I’ll go deal with Hardcase’s unacknowledged romantic feelings for Commander Wolffe. You need to get some sleep,” Echo said, giving Rex a soft kiss on the cheek as they grabbed their t-shirt. “Think I can make Jesse prefer he’d faced the Commander?”

Rex smirked and flopped down by Echo’s side instead of on top of them. “I know you will. I’ll be here when they’re all suitably punished. Come back and we can finish what we started.” His eyes were dark with hunger and love, sending a shiver through Echo. That was a promise they wouldn’t pass up for anything.

“I’ll be back after I finish wrangling the children. I’ll probably drag Dogma and Tup along so they can laugh at Fives, Jesse, and Hardcase,” Echo said with a grin. They pulled their shirt over their head and climbed over Rex to stand up. “They could use the enrichment.”

Rex only laughed. Lazy days really were the best.

#clone/clone #recho #rex/echo #captain rex #arc trooper echo #clone trooper echo #mentioned tup #mentioned dogma #rex and echo really are concerned parents #mom echo #non-binary echo #cloneshipweek2021 #day 3 | tattoos #cloneshipping

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glimmerglanger · 3 years

Text

subobi week (day 5) - sub drop

MORNING, ALL! Today brings some Quinlan/Obi-Wan fic! No spicy shenanigans in the fic, though there are mentions of past activities that are not safe for wizards. (It’d get an M on ao3, for sure).

Set while they were both older Padawans, during some down-time at the Temple. Established relationship. Mentions of getting rough in a fully consensual way. Attempts at comfort and awkward conversations galore! The sub-drop is tied to some deeper issues, as well.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Quinlan left Obi-Wan’s quarters with a spring in his step and a warm feeling in the pit of his stomach, one he planned to cherish for the rest of the day, at the very least. They never had much time to themselves - not between one mission and the other, or whatever training their Masters managed to cook up - and they’d barely seen each other in months.

It had felt….very nice to get reacquainted. They hadn’t, really, had much time. He’d had to leave almost immediately after, running out the door to make sure he didn’t miss the morning meal, leaving Obi-Wan still looking groggy and dazed; always a good look on him, in all honesty.

Quinlan grinned, to no one, and tugged his robes closer to order as he hurried off. He was, technically, late for breakfast.

His memories kept circling around to the early hours of the morning as he ate and prepared himself for an instruction session with Master Ti. He tried to clear his thoughts - he didn’t particularly want Master Ti catching the images in his head, sense memories of the warmth of Obi-Wan’s skin, the noises he made, the taste of his skin - and managed not to embarrass himself or anyone else in the meditation instruction.

But it felt like trying to dam up a river. The memories were all there, waiting, when he finished. It was just that Obi-Wan had felt so good, amazing, really, and--

Quinlan reached out to nudge him through the Force, without really thinking about it, driven by memory. He stopped short in the middle of the hall when he got nothing back. There was just...blankness, from Obi-Wan.

Shielding.

Which was...unusual. Obi-Wan’s mind was far from an open-book; he had better shielding than most, in Quinlan’s experience. But he didn’t shut himself all off. Not usually. Quinlan had only known him to do it when there was something wrong.

When he was feeling things he thought he ought not burden anyone else with.

Images of Obi-Wan’s blue eyes, looking up at him as Obi-Wan slid his mouth a little further down Quinlan’s cock, fled his mind. He turned on his heel, frowning as he made his way back through the Temple. Master Jinn was still, as far as he knew, in the infirmary, recovering.

Perhaps that explained why no one came to open the door to Obi-Wan’s rooms, when Quinlan arrived. He could tell, at least, that Obi-Wan was inside, even if he was still holding all his thoughts and feelings tightly, every touch from Quinlan’s mind sliding off to the side.

And Quinlan knew that, technically, he ought not to use his abilities to snag a memory from the keypad before the door - Master Jinn’s fingers, keying in a code, dozens or hundreds of times - but he did it, anyway.

He entered the code himself and stepped into the rooms, calling, “Obi-Wan?”

There was silence for a beat, and then Obi-Wan asked, his voice strange, “Quin? What are you doing here?”

Quinlan followed his voice, back into his rooms, where he was… sitting beside the bed, dressed for the day, his hair still a little damp from the fresher, trying to shift into a meditation pose as Quinlan reached the doorway.

Quinlan blinked. Obi-Wan was closed off, still, nothing but empty serenity in the Force, but his eyes were reddened and his face was too pale. He looked so different from when Quinlan had left him, a few hours ago, when he’d been flushed all over and breathing heavily, still.

“What happened?” Quinlan asked, moving forward and crouching in front of him. “Obi-Wan, what’s wrong?” He wondered if there’d been bad news about Master Jinn. Or perhaps--

“Hm?” Obi-Wan said, blinking a few times, clearing his throat. There was tension all in his jaw, the press of his mouth together. “I thought I’d just meditate for a while, and--”

“Hey,” Quinlan interrupted; he’d known Obi-Wan for enough years to know when he was trying to….not so much lie as avoid answering a question. “Did you skip breakfast?” He knew Obi-Wan had to be hungry, he’d been starving after they’d tangled together, making a mess of Obi-Wan’s bed and each other.

“I wasn’t very hungry,” Obi-Wan said, still looking off to the side. “I should make myself something now. I…” He made to stand, and Quinlan reached out to catch his arm, freezing when he felt a tremble in Obi-Wan’s skin.

“Obi-Wan?” he asked, because he was used to Obi-Wan trembling, in some situations. Obi-Wan had trembled, earlier, after Quinlan made him come a third time, when he’d been gasping and panting out nonsense sounds. “Stop, don’t--just, tell me what’s wrong.”

Obi-Wan did something with his shoulders, almost a shrug. “I’m...cold,” he said, which was at least something. “It’s nothing, Quin, I just…” He did the little almost-shrug again.

“If it’s nothing, why are you shielding so much?” Quinlan asked, reaching for the blankets on the bed - Obi-Wan had made it after he left, apparently. He pulled them down without thinking about it, wrapping them around Obi-Wan’s shoulders as he made faint protests. He also, Quinlan noticed, didn’t answer. “Obi-Wan?”

“I needed to,” Obi-Wan said, finally, which was not much of an answer. He was still shivering. Quinlan rubbed hands up and down his arms through the blanket.

“You don’t,” Quinlan told him. “Come on, let them down, just a little.”

Obi-Wan tightened his jaw, blinking rapidly and paling further. He gave a single, sharp shake of his head and curved his shoulders in,

The refusal stung, sudden and deep, tangling with the memories of Obi-Wan being so open, earlier, mind and thoughts all blazing hot, letting Quinlan meld with him on so many levels. He rocked back, hurt, and heard himself ask, “Don’t you trust me?”

That snapped Obi-Wan’s gaze up to his, eyes blue and red rimmed and kriff, had Obi-Wan been crying? Before Quinlan could process it, Obi-Wan cut his gaze to the side again and said, “Of course I do, Quin.”

There was something gutting about getting lied to, right to his face.

Quinlan blinked, wrestling with a sudden wash of hurt and - and anger, a bit, too. He was grateful, all at once, that he’d just come from meditation. It helped him pluck the emotions apart, at least enough to keep them from rising higher. He said, “I--what did I do, then, that you don’t?”

He felt something through Obi-Wan’s careful shielding, but there wasn’t enough there to get a read on it. Obi-Wan smoothed out his expression and said, “I do trust you.” He reached a hand from the blankets and, after a beat of hesitation, took Quinlan’s hand, threading their fingers together. He felt cold, unnaturally chilled.

Quinlan looked at their fingers, the way they folded together so naturally, and said, “Talk to me then. Let me see what’s wrong.”

He felt Obi-Wan hesitate. He braced for another refusal, for Obi-Wan to dig in and go on pretending he was fine. And then Obi-Wan took a little breath and it hitched, wet, before he said, surprisingly even, “I don’t know what’s wrong.”

“That’s alright,” Quinlan told him, because at least it was progress in the right direction. “We’ll figure it out.” He hesitated and then added, “It would be easier if I could sense you, Obi. At all.”

Obi-Wan grimaced. He said, still looking over towards the wall. “It’s not good.”

“I don’t mind,” Quinlan said, entertaining unpleasant memories about a time Obi-Wan had gotten hurt badly during a sparring session, about the way he’d just...put himself away, inside his own head, none of the pain spilling out even as the healers rushed around. “Come on. Let me in.”

Obi-Wan tightened his grip, as though he needed to hold onto something, and Quinlan sucked in a breath when his shields eased, just a little. And there was-- confusion, so much of it; Obi-Wan wasn’t exaggerating, he didn’t know what was wrong with him. But there was - not really pain, but a tangle of - of hurt and sadness and aching doubt and--

“Force,” Quinlan said, sorting out the feelings as best he could, trying to figure out what could have prompted them, memories dragged to the way they’d touched, to some of the sounds that had strangled in Obi-Wan’s throat when Quinlan had put a hand in the middle of his shoulders and worked him open, and-- “Did I hurt you? Earlier? Is that it?”

Obi-Wan shook his head, at once. He said, tense and controlled, still, “No. No, I mean--” His cheeks flushed, all at once, with blotchy red. “Not in a - a way I didn’t like.”

And Obi-Wan had never made any effort to hide the fact that he liked things a little rough. It had hardly been a surprise. They’d grown up beside each other. Finding out Obi-Wan liked to be shoved around and held tight and - and sometimes hurt, a little; sometimes a lot, or at least it seemed so to Quinlan - had felt almost obvious, when they’d started going to bed together.

Quinlan had spanked him, earlier, held him down and left him red and sore before they moved together, the last time. But it wasn’t the first time he’d done it, and at the time Obi-Wan’s emotions had all been pleasure and sweet relief.

Which didn’t, at all, explain what was going on with Obi-Wan at the moment. He didn’t feel pleasantly hazy - radiating enjoyment into the Force so thickly that Quinlan always felt it, that was sometimes sweet enough that he worried he’d come without ever having his own cock touched - at all.

“Alright,” Quinlan finally managed to say. He had to trust that Obi-Wan was being honest about that, and, anyway, he’d definitely felt like he was enjoying it at the time. Obi-Wan had also, he noted, relaxed a little with the easing of his shields. Quinlan wrapped him a little more in the blankets and sank to sit beside him. It was a relief when Obi-Wan leaned into his side, a moment later. “So - so was there something else? Anything else?”

Obi-Wan sighed, shields tightening for just a moment, before easing again with what seemed to be conscious effort. He said, quietly, “I don’t know. I just.” He shrugged, head heavy against Quinlan’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. About when I don’t do things right.”

Quinlan blinked, wondering if they’d jumped conversational tracks without warning. Obi-Wan did that, sometimes, just expecting everyone else to keep up. He opened his mouth, and Obi-Wan continued, quiet, “When you said…” He stopped, cleared his throat. “I was thinking about it, after you left.”

Quinlan had no idea what he’d said that would cause such an effect. He said all kinds of things when they were together, and--

He froze, staring forward, a memory of skin on skin, of Obi-Wan spread beneath him, and he didn’t remember exactly what he’d said but-- “Obi-Wan,” he said, curling an arm around him, pulling him closer, “You do everything perfect when we’re together.”

Obi-Wan tensed. “You said I - I was too desperate,” he said, clipped. “Sl--easy. You said I needed--”

Quinlan felt his cheeks burning. “No,” he said, cutting Obi-Wan off, cursing himself for an idiot. He knew plenty of other things about Obi-Wan. How he took things to heart, even stupid, ridiculous things. “I was just--kriff, Obi-Wan, I don’t know what to say, when we’re--when I spank you, I just--that’s how they talk in holos, I don’t--I love how eager you are. It’s amazing to me, how much you like it.”

Obi-Wan was quiet for a beat and then asked, “Really?”

“Really,” he confirmed, and thinned his own shields, trying to push across a shadow of how he felt, the way watching Obi-Wan fall apart got him hard and desperate.

Obi-Wan sucked in a little breath. “You’re not disappointed?”

Quinlan bit his tongue and pressed a kiss to the side of Obi-Wan’s head. “No,” he said, and Obi-Wan curled a little closer to him, stretching an arm across his chest, shields easing a little more, still feeling so cold, so tangled up.

For a moment, neither of them said anything, and then Obi-Wan murmured, “We’re going to miss Master Yoda’s symposium.”

“There’ll be another,” Quinlan told him, and adjusted the blankets, thinking about getting them both some tea, in a few minutes, making Obi-Wan eat something, and then, maybe, if he could muster the courage for it, discussing the things they did in bed, a little bit further, making sure they were on the same page. Making sure they wouldn’t leave each other feeling this way, again, if possible. “Just relax, for a minute.”

#subobi week #my writing #quinobi #not safe for wizards #spicy #skipped aftercare #talking about feelings #comfort #past spicy mentioned

95 notes · View notes

whimsical-ness · 4 years

Text

Shadows | 06

◇ Link to Masterlist

◇ Chanyeol series: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | ?

◇ Genre: Vampire! AU, Slight Beauty & the Beast! AU, Angst

◇ Warnings: descriptions of blood

◇ Summary: A ruthless vampire hunter, you’ve been raised to hunt and kill the creatures of the night, your heart barren of emotion. Until you encounter him,the one called Chanyeol. The one who brings your world crashing down.

◇ Word Count: 3.3k

You gazed at the empty clearing outside the manor, your eyebrows knitting in confusion.

“He was just here,” murmured Kyungsoo, mirroring the puzzlement you felt. The only sound was of the large iron gates, as one of them creaked with a sudden heavy breeze.

“That’s strange,” you said. “Was it someone familiar?”

Kyungsoo shook his head. “I have never seen him before. I only happened to notice him standing there when I looked through the windows. There was a look in his eyes, something dark and furious.”

Your skin prickled with an uncomfortable chill. What if the person who had been watching the house was the vampire who had been terrorizing your town?

“If it was a vampire he can’t enter the house,” you said, almost in a way to reassure yourself. “Let’s keep a lookout for now. The next time we see him I’ll go out there alone and tackle him myself.”

“You will do no such thing,” came a voice behind you. You jumped slightly to see Chanyeol standing warily against the door. You hadn’t realized he had followed you downstairs.

Before you could open your mouth to retort, he spoke again.

“If he is foolish enough to show up again, he will have me to answer to,” he said darkly.

Kyungsoo nudged you back inside the foyer and closed the door. The lock clicked into place.

There was a stiff awkwardness that hung between all three of you, and it made you want to run away. You realized it was the first time Chanyeol was facing Kyungsoo after nearly killing him.

Chanyeol looked a bit ill as he tried to find the right words.

Kyungsoo, however, just shrugged. “Chanyeol, I know. I know you’re sorry. We’ve been through this before. You’ve come out of it then, and we’ll do everything we can to make sure you come out of it once more.”

Chanyeol took a shuddering breath. And then, to your complete surprise, he strode over and threw his arms around Kyungsoo, embracing him. “I was going to kill you,” he said quietly. “I am so sorry, my greatest friend.”

Kyungsoo sighed and patted his back. “It’s alright. I’m already nearly healed too.”

You bit your lip. It somehow warmed your heart to see how close the two of them were, even though Kyungsoo was technically bound to Chanyeol as his permanant companion forever.

When Chanyeol let go of Kyungsoo and saw you staring, you saw embarrassment cross his features.

You felt suddenly embarrassed too. “I’m um, going to go wash up,” you lied, using an excuse to slip away and shut yourself into your room.

You had one too many tumultuous thoughts and feelings, and you needed to figure them out.

You awoke late that night with gasping breaths, your night clothes clinging to your body with sweat.

You roughly pushed back the sheets and sat up, your hand on your chest doing little to cease the rapid beating of your heart beneath.

You had been dreaming. Of blood smattered rooms and dark ruthless eyes and sharp fangs tearing skin apart.

Your mouth felt dry and you felt a bit nauseous, flashes of the previous day’s horror filling your mind.

Of Chanyeol, crouched in the corner with hunger and pain.

You swallowed, swinging your legs off the bed and treading across your room.

For no particular reason at all, you felt a sudden want, no, need, to see Chanyeol. To make sure he was alright.

You silently made your way down the hall, stopping outside his door, your heart hammering. Was this even a good idea? You had no weapons, nothing to defend yourself with if he was in a state of ravenous hunger.

And even if he wasn’t, was it in your place to barge into his quarters unannounced and uninvited?

You felt somewhat dangerous and foolish at same time as you eventually turned the knob and stepped in.

This was only your third time in here, and you took a nervous breath to reassure yourself that all the blood was indeed gone from the air and the room.

As you ventured in further, you saw that Chanyeol wasn’t in fact curled in a dark corner, but rather in the comfort of his bed, fast asleep.

You didn’t dare to breathe as you stood right beside the bed, your gaze flitting to his face. His eyelashes were fluttering against his cheeks, his mouth turned into a small frown, and you felt your chest squeeze as you realized he wasn’t sleeping peacefully at all.

He was dreaming fitfully, you suspected, of his past or of his future, of his never ending hunger for blood.

Your hand seemed to move of its own accord when it hovered above his forehead. You felt the inexplicable urge to gently push his hair back, to trace the lines of his face, to provide some sort of comfort to him as his restless breathing grew.

You shook your head in an attempt to clear your thinking. Why did you care about this vampire so much?

What was it about him that had you feeling and doing strange things?

You bit your lip, your mind and heart at war.

It would be so easy to stake him like this, while he was lying defenseless and vulnerable.

But you couldn’t even dream of doing such a thing anymore, not to him.

Instead, your fingers fluttered above his eyes, and you felt oddly courageous else as you allowed them to graze the skin above, just barely.

It took a split second, really. And then Chanyeol’s eyes shot open and your heart stopped. Before you knew it he had grabbed your wrist and you yelped in both surprise and pain as he stood up and pushed you down onto the bed instead.

You felt a flash of terror as you saw his mouth curled in a snarl, his eyes glittering dangerously in the darkness.

“I-I—”

“What are you doing?” he growled, making you wince.

“I-I was—” you faltered, unable to find the words. Chanyeol glared at you and it made you feel impossibly small.

And then you mentally slapped yourself for the way you were acting. You were a level headed person and you didn’t have to act like this when you hadn’t really done anything wrong.

Had you?

“I was just making sure that you were okay,” you said finally, keeping your voice steady.

Chanyeol let go of your hand, his gaze turning perplexed.

“Why?”

You cringed internally. Yes, why?

You were vaguely aware of your mouth hanging open and then closing as if you were a goldfish.

Even in the darkness, you could tell Chanyeol was now smiling.

He clicked on the lamp beside his bed and you squinted in the sudden light.

“I’m sorry I grabbed you like that,” he said, sitting down beside you on the bed. “But as you may understand, I was surprised.”

You stood up at once, avoiding his gaze. “I’m sorry for barging in. I woke up and suddenly thought of you and wondered if you were faring any better since this morning. But since you seem to be alright, I’ll leave you to go back to bed.”

But before you could turn, his fingers were circling your wrist again, gently, this time.

“Stay.”

Your stomach did a stupid tumble.

There was no reason to. You had just wanted to check on him, and you had done that. He was fine.

But when you saw him looking at you like that, stripped of his guard and his curious, shy eyes on yours...you knew you couldn’t leave.

You sat down, leaving a careful distance between the two of you.

For a few moments, you sat in silence, neither knowing what to say.

And then, “Who do you think it was outside the house today?” you tried.

You sensed Chanyeol stiffen slightly beside you. “Someone with harmful intentions. Nothing short of.”

You nodded, swallowing. “Do you think...your clan might have sent him? To draw you out?”

“It’s possible. And in the process he might have stopped by your town for a snack,” replied Chanyeol grimly. A quiet rage simmered inside you. “I want to kill him.”

Chanyeol let out a breath. “He might not be working alone. When those hunters were killed, when your father escaped, he said they hadn’t encountered a vampire that song. Only a member of a clan could be so powerful.”

“I could take him - them - down,” you said, looking up at him. “We could. Together.”

Chanyeol met your gaze, his lips curling. “What, with more of your blood? I know what you plan on doing. I’m not sure how certain you are that it will work.”

“Kyungsoo said you’ve been through this before,” you said defiantly. “Why should this time be any different?”

Chanyeol let out a bitter laugh. “It took years. You don’t understand. It’s not a switch, something that you can turn on and off conveniently. I have to train my senses, force myself to defy my nature. And even then the urge always remains, the want at the back of my throat.”

“But—”

“How can you be so sure I won’t hurt you?” Chanyeol cut. His voice was low, his eyes shining.

You took a deep breath. “Because you’ve had every chance to before. And you haven’t. You said it yourself. You fought the urge to drink my blood that day, which is what drove you to kill those thieves instead.”

He stood up suddenly, pushing his dark hair back roughly. “Even as we speak I can hear your heart pumping blood,” he said, his voice breaking.

“But you’re fighting it,” you said softly, pushing yourself off the bed to face him. “Hey...”

You felt warm as you hesitantly touched his shoulder, and he turned, the look on his face that of surprise.

“You can do this,” you said, and you willed yourself to believe it too.

Your hand slid off as Chanyeol stepped closer towards you, leaving barely any space between the two of you. The dim light of the lamp cast shadows across his face, half of it bright, the other dark. His eyes had a strange look in them, and your heart did an uneven stutter as the distance between you reduced to a mere breath away.

“What have you done to me?” he whispered, and you stilled completely as his fingers brushed your cheek as he gently pushed back a loose strand of your hair.

“You’re the one with powers to affect humans supernaturally, not me,” you said, trying to keep your tone light even as the hitch in your breath gave away your emotions.

He smiled a bit then, and you noticed as if for the first time that his cheek dimpled, something so in contrast with his vampire existence that it almost made you want to laugh.

He was too close now and you saw him swallow, and you felt frozen to the spot, suddenly too aware of the fact that you were alone in a man’s room in the middle of the night in your night clothes.

A man who was also a vampire.

But when Chanyeol tilted his face towards you, why did you so badly want to close the distance between you?

Feeling a wave of heat rush to your cheeks, you took a quick step back, clearing your throat.

“I-um, I am going back to bed now,” you stammered.

Chanyeol looked almost disappointed and before he could even reply, you turned on your heel and made a hasty exit from his room.

You lay in bed for a long time after, finding yourself imagining what would have happened if you had stayed.

Over the next few days, you fell into a routine.

And a routine was good, because it meant you didn’t leave yourself any time to ponder confusing and slightly terrifying thoughts about Chanyeol.

With a final push from Kyungsoo he had agreed to continue drinking a bit of your blood everyday, although he still seemed anxious about it.

You’d make a small cut in your palm and let the blood collect in a glass for him, realizing that letting him drink directly from your skin was much too intimate and led to more daunting thoughts.

For the both of you, you suspected, this was better.

Another part of your routine was keeping a steady watch outside the house, in case the mysterious vampire or whoever he was showed up again.

You wanted to be ready for him, but you felt irritatingly rusty in terms of your fighting skills.

You had been used to training nearly every day back home, but since you’d been in the manor, you’d had no chance to practice or even use weapons.

You brought this up with Chanyeol finally, and after much persuasion he agreed to let you have some weapons to train.

And then he volunteered to train with you, or rather against you.

“I am one of the strongest vampires out there,” he remarked, a smug smile on his face. “If you can fight me you can probably fight anyone.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, but grudgingly agreed. It would definitely be good practice.

You decided to utilize one of the many spare rooms in the manor, already feeling the excitement course through your veins at the thought of doing what you did best.

“These should be sufficient,” mused Chanyeol, strolling in and dumping a bag onto the ground.

He must have seen the way your eyes lit up at examining the contents, because he began to chuckle. You tentatively picked up a stake, the familiarity of holding it giving you the surge of confidence that you had missed.

You raised your eyebrows at Chanyeol. “Are you sure about this?”

He was smirking as a way of answer, and a flicker of annoyance shot through you. Well, you would show him.

Purely to warm up, you took aim at the painting hanging on the wall across you, and threw the stake as hard as you could.

You looked at Chanyeol in pleased satisfaction as his eyes widened, the painting falling with a thud to the ground.

You twirled another stake between your fingers, a smug grin on your lips. You were somehow determined to prove how good you really were, even though the thought of wanting to impress Chanyeol was infuriating.

Chanyeol’s eyes flashed as he looked at you, and before you could fathom it, he had crossed the room to face you in a blink of an eye. Unfair vampire speed.

You brought your stake up, as if daring him to try and come closer.

“This is not much of a problem,” he drawled, grabbing your wrist and making you stumble. “You cannot face me with a stake and expect to take me down. You have to be smarter.”

You simmered with irritation as the stake dropped to the ground.

Chanyeol’s smirk was growing wider.

You shifted suddenly, twisting so that his arm bent at an awkward but slightly painful angle, and he was forced to let go of your wrist with a groan.

With this momentary distraction you immediately aimed at kick to his gut, and even though it felt as if you were kicking a rock hard surface, he stumbled backwards and you felt a flutter of adrenaline in your veins.

It didn’t take long for Chanyeol to grab his footing again though, and you ducked to slip away from him while his back was turned. But just as you could grab another two stakes and turn towards him, he was on you before you could yell out in surprise.

He shoved you hard against the wall, his mouth turned in a sneer. You struggled against him, trying your best to point the stake towards his gut at least, but he wouldn’t even budge.

“I dug...my...own...grave by...feeding....you...my...blood!” you gasped between breaths, completely struck by how strong he was, even stronger than the first time you had encountered him.

Chanyeol just shrugged, and it infuriated you to see him looking so self-satisfied. You couldn’t just let him beat you like that.

You have to be smarter.

The only weapons you had were the two stakes but they were uselessly pinned against the wall in your hands by Chanyeol.

You grit your teeth, twisting your palm so that the stake’s tip was right above the thin skin of your wrist. Maybe this would distract him.

You gasped in pain as the sharp tip cut your skin, warm blood already starting to bloom and drip down your arm.

It was like a switch.

Chanyeol let go of you as if scalded, his eyes growing darker and his lips curling into a snarl without his control.

His dark red gaze became fixated onto your bleeding wrist, the veins under his eyes blooming and. pulsating as his vampire self began to take over.

You didn't wait to see if he would truly attack you.

You kicked him back with as much strength as you could muster, and to your surprise he fell to his knees, his face twisted in hunger. You brought down your now free hands armed with stakes to pierce into either side of his neck, and you looked at him triumphantly. You had trapped him.

Your blood dripped onto his shirt and he hissed, his chest heaving. This was as much of a training for him as it was for you. He had to resist his urge to drink your blood.

“Fight it,” you whispered, even as more of your blood was staining his clothes. Chanyeol let out a choked cry. “I-I can’t—”

You let go of your stakes, dropping to your knees to face him. You roughly wiped your wrist against your pants even as it burned.

“Get away from me,” he growled, his eyes that deep shade of red that sent goosebumps across your skin. “No,” you said quietly. “You’re going to fight it.”

He closed his eyes. The veins on his cheekbones were hauntingly mesmerizing, the pulsations making your breath catch. Your fingers ached to trace them, and you felt both amazed and repulsed that this thought would cross your mind.

Chanyeol’s breaths slowed, his eyes fluttering as he slowly struggled to control the thirst. And then he was slumping into a heap onto the ground, and your shoulders relaxed in relief.

Your blood was still on his clothes, on your clothes, but Chanyeol didn’t seem to even notice. You felt a surge of pride.

He had done it.

"That wasn’t so bad after all was it?” you said, smiling, as he turned to lay flat on his back.

“Trust me,” he breathed. “It was bad.”

And then you couldn’t help it. You started to laugh.

You curled up with your knees to your chest, laughing until tears pricked your lashes, and as Chanyeol watched bewildered, it made you laugh even harder. Your previous adrenaline had been replaced by so much relief that you felt woozy with it and now you couldn’t stop.

He shook his head, but soon enough he was laughing too, and both of you kept laughing to the point where you were gasping for breath.

And then the next few seconds passed by like a blur.

You and Chanyeol, lying next to each other on the floor, shoulders shaking in occasional bouts of more laughter.

His knee bumping yours as he turned, his fingers tilting your face towards him.

You were so dazed that you just began to giggle some more, but the look on his face should have told you what was coming.

You only had the chance to blink before your laugh was silenced by Chanyeol’s lips meeting yours.

A/N: 2 years later and Shadows gets an update! I was honestly just in the mood to write a lil fluff and will they/won’t they scenes and so this is a result of that...a relationship focused chapter hahahah. Not a whole lot happened action/plot wise BUT I hope you liked it anyway 🥺 The next one should hopefully be more plot heavy hehehe and OH please do let me know your thoughts I’m nervous 🤧

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fandom-imagines-stories · 4 years

Text

The World is Better Now

Peeta Mellark x Reader

Words: 2503

Summary: Nearly a year since the fall of the Capitol, the reader and Peeta have lived happily together in peace. They have helped each other through the darkest nights and the worst nightmares. Now, the reader feels a new kind of fear.

Notes: I rewatched the Hunger games series and I forgot how adorable Peeta is. So here goes nothing. As always, let me know what you think! (So this is an AU where the reader was in the Quarter Quell, just in case anyone was confused. Katniss is just a friend in this one.)

You thought you knew what life was like. You thought that you would die in the Games and be just another fallen Tribute. When you won, you thought you were safe. When President Snow announced that the Quarter Quell would select from a pool of Victors, your hope for a better life was gone. But then he happened. Even after everything he had been through, he still had this light. A light that you thought you had lost forever. Somehow, he brought it back. So yeah, you thought you knew what life was like. But this was so much more than that.

“Y/N!” Peeta called from your little house on the hill as you seemingly searched the meadow for something. His voice was like a distant murmur. You weren’t sure what you were looking for, but you could feel it. Before you could think too much on it, you felt arms wrap around your middle and a puff of breath against your neck, blowing through the few strands of hair that had fallen from the hairpins you had put in that morning. You couldn’t help but jump, flinching away from the sudden contact. You turned to see your husband, clearly trying to hide the hurt in this eyes.

“Sorry.” You muttered, feeling the shame turn your face slightly pink. Now he felt bad. You hated it when you made him feel guilty. He deserved the sun, if you only had the power to give it to him.

“Hey,” He just smiled, quickly putting your mind at ease as he took your face in his hands. “I shouldn’t have snuck up on you. I thought you heard me calling. I’m sorry.” He placed a gentle kiss on your lips, reassuring you that he wasn’t in any way upset before taking your hand. “Come on, dinner’s ready.”

With the exception of Katniss and Haymitch, the two of you were alone out here. You weren’t part of the new society after the fall of the Capitol. Instead, you sought refuge in the rolling fields outside what was once District 12. Due to your isolation, there was technically no legality to your marriage. In fact, the only ones there to witness your vows were Katniss, Haymitch, and even Effie, who insisted on bringing endless yards of fabric with her to help you make a dress. You exchanged rings and vows, promising to love each other through everything and to never forget what you’d been through together. You didn’t need anything official. You were his and he was yours and that’s all you could have ever hoped for.

He, of course, was far better at cooking than you were so he often made dinner. Tonight, he made fresh bread and some seared fish from the lake nearby. You hardly touched any of it, feeling your stomach twist and turn, suddenly feeling ill. Your face had grown pale and Peeta’s expression morphed with concern.

“Are you okay?” He stood from his seat across the table to move closer, examining the sweat that now glistened across your forehead. You nodded, but you quickly pushed away from him, burying your head in the sink and losing what little you had eaten. You felt Peeta’s hand on your back, rubbing up and down your skin trying to comfort you. When you slid down against the cabinet, he sat with you, grabbing a towel to wipe your lips.

“Sorry.” You muttered through heavy breaths. “I-I don’t know where that came from.” You stood on shaky legs, but after a moment, you felt fine again. Strange, but fine. There was nothing in the meal that would have made you sick and you hadn’t been feeling ill at all that day. Deep in your gut, you started to worry.

You spent the morning wandering the woods with Katniss. It was a weekly ritual for the two of you. Some time away from the guys. You liked to think that she opened up a little more when it was just the two of you. As if you had been friends since you were little girls. Growing up in District 5, you had a much cushier life than both her and Peeta, but you’d grown accustomed to the quieter, simpler life outside the New Panem.

“Peeta said that you were sick last night.” Katniss started, looking up into the trees. You grimaced. Of course he did. There were few secrets between the four of you since you all lived out here by yourselves.

“Yeah, but I feel fine.” You debated whether or not you should share your fears. That your illness was anything but random. That it meant something far more frightening than an upset stomach. Katniss noticed your uneasy expression and put a hand on your shoulder.

“What’s wrong?” You took a deep breath. You needed to tell somebody.

“I’m worried that I might be…” You couldn’t even bring yourself to say it, but she understood. Her hand slipped off your shoulder and she crossed her arms, trying to process.

“Oh.” She just stared at you for a moment, barely even blinking. Katniss was never really one with words. You exhaled deeply and explained to her your suspicions. This wasn’t the first time you had been sick. This wasn’t even the third. On top of that, every time you looked into the meadow, you felt like something was coming. You could search and search, but you never figured out what. When you finished talking, Katniss sighed. “Follow me.”

She took you back to her house and found a small box she had hidden in the back of her kitchen cabinet. Handing you the box, she gave you a very uncomfortable smile. You dumped a small bottle into the palm of your hand.

“What are these?” You shook the bottle gently, hearing pills rattle around inside.

“Effie made me promise to give them to you when you and Peeta started thinking about... you know.” She rocked back on her heels. “It’s some kind of test from the Capitol.” You gave her a look.

“Why’d she give them to you?”

“She didn’t want you guys to think she was pressuring you or something.” She shrugged. “And it’s not like she could give them to Haymitch.” You both chuckled, breaking up some of the awkwardness.

“Thanks.” You stuffed the bottle into your pocket, the small item somehow making your hand feel heavy. You started to leave, but you paused. “Don’t tell him about this, okay?” Katniss gave you a crooked smile and nodded. And just like that, everything changed.

A day passed and you didn’t tell a soul. The test was positive. You were pregnant. In just a few short months you would be bringing life into a world that had taken so many lives from you. And that never seemed clearer than when you got letters from Annie. Sweet, loving Annie whose son would never meet his father. As Peeta read her encouraging words, all you could hear was Finnick. His laugh, his smug little jokes to cheer you up. Even though you’d only been a Victor for two years longer than Katniss and Peeta, Finnick was the one to help you adjust to the new lifestyle. He was really the closest thing you had to a brother. You winced, his laugh replaced by his dying screams in your head.

“Love, Annie.” Peeta finished reading with a small smile and tucked the letter into the picnic basket beside him. “I’m glad she’s been able to somewhat adjust.” You nodded in agreement. You had barely said two words to him since you found out. Maybe you were afraid that you’d let it slip. Peeta had noticed your silence, but he chose not to press you. He knew that sometimes you would just let your thoughts wander without saying a word. But there was something different about the way you looked at him.

“Peeta,” You said his name so quietly he almost didn’t hear it. You took his hand in yours, bringing it slowly up to your lips to place gentle kisses on his fingertips. You didn’t want anything to change. Peeta held your hand in between his own, his eyes shining with both admiration and concern. You had to tell him.

“Y/N, are you sure that everything is- what, what is it?” He noticed your eyes grow wide, staring at his hand. His gaze followed yours and his breathing quickened with panic. A wasp crawled across the back of his hand, it’s bright yellow exterior providing little comfort. It wasn’t a tracker jacker, but it didn’t matter.

“Peeta, it’s just a wasp.” You assured him, hoping he would look at you and not the insect.

“I-I know.” He said, but his voice was shaky and his hands started to tremble slightly as he strained to keep still. You’d never actually had to encounter the mutt insects, but you knew that he had in his games. Tracker jacker venom was also what they used on him to try and distort his memories to turn him against the rebels and even you. His hand jerked away, but he only aggravated it more. He yelped as it stung him, flying away to safety. Though the pain was brief and minimal, it was the memories you feared more.

Peeta tried to hold it back, but his mind swirled between the present and the past, mixing with all the horrors he had seen. You took his face in your hands, urging those beautiful hazel eyes to focus on you.

“Peeta, it’s okay. Look at me. It’s okay.” You pulled him close to you, his head resting on your chest, hoping that the sound of your heartbeat would calm him. It usually did, despite how rapidly it was beating now. You ran one hand up and down his back while you gently stroked his blonde hair with the other. “It’s okay.” Sitting there, holding him, you knew more than ever that you couldn’t do it. How could you bring a child into a world that had done such cruel things to such a kind person? A world that had broken him in ways you would never understand. It had broken you.

After his episode, Peeta decided to spend the rest of the day relaxing inside. He settled in front of his easel, using a mix of blacks and greys to replicate the storm clouds gathering overhead. In contrast, he painted the yellow flowers beneath them, their brightness only slightly dulled by the gloomy atmosphere. He looked out the window, watching you walk slowly through the patches of primrose.

“It’s beautiful.” Katniss said from behind him. He turned and gave her a small smile.

“I want it to remind her that there’s brightness growing out of the dark.” He’d noticed that you had had a hard time adjusting to a life of peace after the horrors that you’d all been through. Sometimes, he was sure you were still trying to escape the games in your mind.

“She should probably get inside.” Katniss noted, looking out to the flowers, but you weren’t there anymore. “It looks like it’s going to storm.” As if on cue, a bolt of lightning shot across the sky, followed by a loud roll of thunder. There was another sound; a faint cry muffled by the closed window.

“What was that?” Peeta slid the window up and listened closer. Another boom was followed by another scream. “Y/N.” Your names left his lips in a panic as he ran down the stairs and out into the rain.

“Y/N!” Katniss shouted, the rain starting to pour down, pounding against the pavement. She might have been more scared than Peeta. She knew the truth. It wasn’t just you in danger anymore. Peeta’s eyes swept the trees while Katniss checked around the houses. After the loudest crash of thunder yet, the screams became words.

“No! Finnick!” You were running through the trees, looking up at the sky where you saw the faces flash in your head. Each boom of thunder was another canon, another death. Haymitch, Annie, Katniss… Peeta. “Peeta!” You shrieked, falling to your knees in the mud. “Peeta!”

“Y/N!” He knew those cries. You often screamed like that when you had a nightmare, clawing up at the air as if he was flying away from you.

You curled up on the forest floor, not caring that mud covered your cheek or that the rain pelted against your back. You wrapped your arms around your stomach, wishing that you could make it go away. You knew that the next canon was for your baby.

“No!” You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t raise a child in this never ending storm.

“Y/N! I found her!” Peeta’s voice was barely audible over your own screaming and the rain. You flinched away from his touch as another canon sounded in your head. You felt his strong arms wrap around you and lift you up, holding you close to his chest.

“Peeta…” You whimpered, weakly tugging at his shirt. “T-the canons.”

“It’s okay. We’ll be home soon.” Katniss found him and he quickly took you back to the house, rain still pounding against your skin. You looked up at the sky one last time, seeing Finnick’s face once again flashing against the clouds. Peeta put you down on the sofa and wrapped as many blankets as he could around you while Katniss went to grab some dry clothes.

“I can’t do this.” You cried, trembling violently from the cold. “Everything is so dark and cold and cruel. I can’t curse someone else to live through what we did.”

“What do you mean?” Peeta pushed your wet hair out of your face.

“The… baby.” He froze.

“What?”

“Peeta, I’m pregnant.” You felt more tears cascading down your cheeks, your hands clutching your stomach. “And I don’t want to bring a child into this place.” Despite your distress, Peeta could barely contain his smile.

“We’re going to have a baby?”

“Peeta… what about everything we’ve been through? Can we really condemn another person to that, let alone our child?” He put his hand on top of yours, looking deeply into your eyes.

“Y/N, the world is better now.” He gave you a comforting smile. “We can raise our children in peace knowing that they will have a better life.” Your smile was still unsure so he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. “I will never, ever let anything happen to them.” You lifted your hand to rest on his cheek.

“You’re going to be a great dad.” His face lit up and he scooped you up in his arms, causing both of you to laugh.

“And you are going to be the best mother.” He pressed his forehead to yours, letting his words sink in. Cradled in his arms you felt like nothing would ever harm you. Maybe it was possible, after all this time and through all of the fears, to be truly happy.

General Tag: @rae-gar-targaryen; @takemepedropascal; @childhood-imagination

#this is my favorite gif of him #peeta mellark x reader #katniss everdean #hunger games imagine #josh hutcherson

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likelightningafterthethunder · 3 years

Text

Like Lightning After the Thunder: Chapter Two: Reprieve

Fic Summary:

His breath wavered as he stared into Katsuki’s eyes. He knew he could get out if he tried. He could knock Katsuki out, hope that no one else would find them, and run back into the shadows where he belonged. Katsuki may have had him pinned down but he was in Denki’s range now and it would take little effort to send a charge through Katsuki to paralyze him temporarily.

It would take barely any additional effort to kill Katsuki.

As the sparks began to charge, lighting up the air around him, Katsuki refused to back down.

–

Katsuki always knew he was destined for great things.

He didn’t think he’d have to turn his back on all he’s ever known to get there.

Rating: T

Warnings: Eventual major character death, implied/referenced child abuse, psychological trauma

Other Tags: Bakugou Katsuki/Kaminari Denki, slow burn, alternate universe - canon divergence

Read on Ao3 (links to corresponding chapter) or read below

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Fic navigation to read the fic on tumblr

–

Katsuki wasn’t surprised to see one of his former classmates’ face on the news report with the tagline “found dead after hero-villain fight.”

The reporter gave a rundown of the fight that had happened a few days earlier on the other side of the city, between a small gang of villains and Ochako. The villains themselves weren’t very high ranking― potential to be B-rank if they were more organized as a group, but C-rank individually― but they had managed to cause a decent amount of damage before Ochako had arrived on the scene. The news replayed the footage taken live from the battle, showing Ochako using her quirk on larger pieces of rumble to assist the lower ranked heroes in the area with evacuation as she charged forward towards the villain group herself.

The footage wasn’t ideal. It was grainy from trying to capture the scene just outside of the limits of its scope and if it weren’t for the pink of Ochako’s hero costume, Katsuki was certain the camera person would not have been able to keep the camera centered on her. The footage continued until Ochako grabbed one of the villains, freezing seconds after the villain began to float. A red circle appeared around the villain’s face along with a mugshot before cutting back to the reporter.

In the aftermath of the fight, that one villain was never found.

Ochako had been frantic when they had met up after, her gaze thousands of miles in the distance every time Katsuki looked. She denied anything being on her mind despite it being so blatantly obvious that something was, but Katsuki chose not to question it. After all, if she had wanted to talk about it, she wouldn’t have asked to meet him.

The report continued to explain the search procedures that had taken place over the past few days before describing a call on the tip hotline that ultimately resulted in the discovery of the villain’s body. While they didn’t show a photo of the body, Katsuki couldn’t help but wonder just how bad it was for the report to completely skip over the cause of death.

In the end, Katsuki supposed it didn’t matter what caused the villain’s death. Ochako was certain to end up finding a way to blame herself, for not paying better attention during the fight, for not trying hard enough to find the villain after, for being the last person who saw the villain alive.

Even if she didn’t, there were parts of society that would make sure she would never forget.

Cheeky: can you meet up with me today?

Katsuki: Takeshi’s?

Cheeky: yeah

Cheeky: drinks/dinner on me after if you want

Katsuki: I’ll be there at five. Don’t be late.

Cheeky: got it!

Cheeky: hey wait why are YOU telling ME not to be late when I’M the one who asked YOU to meet me

Katsuki: You know why.

Cheeky: it was ONE TIME KATSUKI ONE TIME

Katsuki was at Takeshi’s gym a quarter before five, reserving their usual space and changing into workout attire before sending Ochako a text to let her know he was already inside. He started his stretches, looking up only when he saw a pair of pink sneakers approach the ring.

“You’re late,” Katsuki said, continuing his stretches.

“By five minutes!” Ochako dumped her water and towel on the bench next to Katsuki’s, quickly joining him in the stretches. “I was outside before five, waiting for you!”

“I sent you a text saying I was inside.”

“Yeah, like two minutes before five!” She huffed. “I was totally on time.”

“Whatever. Hurry the fuck up.”

They continued preparing in silence, speaking again only to confirm that the other was ready to start. This time, only a couple of the guests flinched when Katsuki charged forward at Ochako yelling out “die!”

After the fifth time a hit landed that Ochako would have normally been able to block with ease, Katsuki stood down. Her form had been lacking for the better part of the past hour, and there were a few times that her blows hadn’t hit with the full force Katsuki was familiar with. She didn’t even react to Katsuki’s change in form until Katsuki had walked over to the bench for his water.

“Wh― hey! What gives?” She frowned but joined him for a water break when he didn’t return to the ring right away.

“Don’t insult me,” Katsuki rolled his eyes at the shock on her face, “You’re distracted. What kind of fucking spar is worth the time when your opponent isn’t giving their all?”

“I’m focused on the spar! I’m totally and completely here! I wasn’t insulting you but I am now, you’re just saying that because of your enormous ego,”

Katsuki paused, looking at her directly in her eyes. She didn’t flinch.

But the longer he held his gaze, the more Katsuki could tell that she was holding back.

“First,” He began, “Don’t be cheeky with me―”

“Well maybe I wouldn’t be so cheeky with you if you didn’t call me cheeky all the time!”

Katsuki held back an amused smile.

“Second,” He continued, “I hit you five different times in ways that you should have been able to block with your eyes closed.”

“Is that supposed to be an insult or a compliment, because what I’m hearing is that you think I could fight you with my eyes closed.”

“Insult. You didn’t fucking block the hits, dumbass.”

Ochako huffed, crossing her arms. “Whatever. I’m going to focus on the compliment part of it.”

“Third, you didn’t even notice I walked away until after I reached the bench.”

“I― I was expecting you to come back! That it was some sort of trick to get me to lower my guard or something!”

“And fourth, you speak faster when you lie.” He let Ochako stammer for a while in response, continuing when her shoulders slumped with a heavy sigh. “You sure this is the break you need? I don’t mind wiping the fucking floor with you if that’s what you want but you better respect my time back and fucking fight me with your all,” He shifted his weight a bit before adding hesitantly, “I can try to listen if you want to talk instead but that’s not really my thing,”

Ochako didn’t answer immediately, instead taking a drink of her water. Katsuki waited as patiently as he could, although he did offer her a glare to try to speed up her thought process.

She put her water back down and hit her knuckles together, briefly reminding Katsuki of Eijirou. “Okay! One more round. I need to redeem myself before we leave for drinks,”

Katsuki grinned, shoving her lightly with his shoulder as he walked back towards the ring. “Whatever you say, Cheeky. You’re still going to fucking lose.”

“I’ll make you eat your words, Katsuki!”

She did not, but not for lack of trying. Ochako actually paid full attention to the spar after the interruption and while Katsuki still had the upper hand on brute strength, she was nimbler and lighter on her feet. Katsuki was fairly certain that had the shift manager not interrupted to tell them that their time was up that Ochako was only a handful of moves away from finding some “barely legal in a spar between friends but completely legal in a rules free battle against a villain” opening and winning the round. While technically neither of them had won, he did agree—after some teasing and pestering— to counting it as her point in their ongoing scoreboard, adding, “But if you want me to count it as eating my words, you’ll have to fucking try again.”

Ochako seemed to be in a brighter mood when they met up again post-changing in front of Takeshi’s. She bumped shoulders with Katsuki as he approached and began chattering about work and her day as they made their way over to the restaurant they usually ate at after sparring sessions. He didn’t offer much other than the occasional “yeah” and swear when her story necessitated it, but she didn’t seem to mind. She spared him from talking until after they were already seated and ordered their food and drinks.

“Oh yeah! I heard from Tenya that you finally sent in your response to the reunion! Do you know when you’re heading down to Musutafu yet? We should get on the same train so that the ride isn’t as boring— well, kinda, since you’ll probably not be talking,”

“Shut the fuck up, I can talk when I want to,” Katsuki scowled, rolling his eyes when all it resulted in was a laugh from Ochako. “I haven’t looked at the train schedule yet. The Shitty Four Eyes approved for both the 28th and 29th off though.”

“Nice! Well, when you figure out when you want to head down, let me know and I’ll be your Anti-Explosion Time buddy for the ride down,”

“Oh fuck off.”

Ochako laughed again. Katsuki hoped this would be the extent of the reunion talk but she continued, “It’ll be great to see the entire class again, don’t you think?”

“You make it sound like we never fucking see anyone. I literally saw you a few fucking days ago and you spend half your weekends with Frog Face or Four Eyes or the fucking Nerd or whoever the fuck,” Katsuki pointed out. “We see basically everyone at the Billboards too,”

“Don’t be such a bore, Katsuki. Reunions are different from the Billboards. We don’t have to deal with those ‘damn extras’ at the reunion,” She put on her best Katsuki impression at “damn extras,” extending her palms outwards and adding a playful “Boom! Pow!”

“I don’t fucking sound like that.”

“Yes you do. I’m the great Katsuki Bakugou! Die you fucking piece of shit! Boom! Bam! You fucking extra! Bow before the king! Boomboom!”

Katsuki let the faintest hint of a smile slip. “I have never said ‘bow before the king,’”

“Oh come on Katsuki, you tried to name yourself King Explosion Murder, don’t deny it. Even if you’ve never said it, you’ve definitely thought about it.”

He scowled, muttering a “fuck off”, refusing to acknowledge that yes, yes he had thought about saying it once or twice.

“So you admit that I’m right!”

“Fuck off, I said no such fucking thing.”

“You didn’t say ‘no’ either though.”

“I’m demoting you to a fucking extra, you shitty fucking extra.”

Katsuki was given a brief break from any potential cheeky response from Ochako when the server stepped in with their drinks. They raised their glasses, a silent toast to making it another day alive, to making it as far as they had come, to their friendship.

To the silent understanding that there were some struggles that were best left unshared.

He didn’t press further about whatever it was that was stressing her out, even if he had a strong feeling about what caused it. She didn’t comment on the circles under his eyes or how his mind seemed to wander after she brought up certain high school memories. They talked, ignoring their stressors, and for a while, they could pretend everything was fine.

#boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bakugou katsuki #Kaminari Denki #bakukami #kamibaku #katsuki bakugou #denki kaminari #bnha fanfic #mha fanfic #story #from the creator

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sebastianshaw · 3 years

Conversation

Meme from "Broad City" quotes

“You said if you were ever going to do same sex experimentation, it was going to be with me.”

"Who would you rather go down on you? Michael Bublé or Janet Jackson?”

“Can Janet Jackson go down on me while Michael Bublé narrates it in song?”

“What’s an Arch de Triumph?”

“It’s when two dudes go down on us, is how I picture it, and they’re butt to butt and then you and I do Oprah hands.”

“I really don’t feel like going into work today.”

"Great, I’ll see you in 30 days then. . . biiiiitch.”

“Maybe your dad should have pulled out.”

“I need someone for the amazing race because my mom just pulled out.”

“I also have business with the bank. I’d like to cash these nickels, and I’ll have them in quarters, please. Thank you so much.”

“I’m a sexual X-Man. I’m Wolverine. I’m Vulvarine!”

"Oh my Lady God, thank you!"

“The vagina is nature’s pocket. It’s natural and responsible.”

“I would take you on my shoulders – like I’d strap you up and be like, ‘Let’s go through helllll.’”

“I’m not sexually aroused, I’m fiscally aroused.”

“That’s literally a one stop pussy shop. I love it!”

“I finally figured out my eyebrows, They’re sisters, not twins.”

“Four R’s, my friend-- Reduce, Reuse, Recycle, Rihanna.”

“Statistically we’re headed toward an age where everybody’s going to be, like, caramel and queer.”

“I’m an adult and I’m responsible. Let’s go get some candy.”

“I finally masturbated above the covers without my eyes being closed.”

“I just want to get home and watch my shows.”

"You just pulled a bag of pot out of your vagina."

"Do you ever get hair from your head stuck in your buttcrack in the shower?"

"I'm still not over Amy Winehouse."

"I can't really imagine what it's like for people with blue eyes."

"This isn't a sugar daddy thing. This is just an old established guy paying for his younger friend who he also has sex with kind of thing."

"You're like 12, right?"

"I love me some dumplings. It's like a squirrel clutch with a meatball in it."

"I was so worried I baked a whole cake and then I ate a whole cake."

"In da clerb, we all fam."

"I know you from your ass better than I know your face."

"I respect you respecting me."

"You know what's cool about this party? We're the sexiest girls here."

"I'll pick up your poop. You're worth it."

"This is what living on the edge looks like."

"You got beauty. You got brains. You're a fucking genius. Do you wanna kiss?"

"You look sexy and vivacious and artsy and, like, young-wife material but, like, taut and teasy still. It's a perfect combo."

“Witches aren’t monsters, they’re just women! They’re fucking women who cum and giggle and play in the night. And that’s why everybody wants to set them on fire ‘cause they’re so fucking jealous."

"YAS KWEEN!"

“I AM NOT A MOM!”

"You never know if you never try and if you never try you never know."

“I’m only 27, what am I? A child bride?”

"You have been busting my balls all day over a sahaaaandwich shahooppe?!"

"I don’t watch anything but solo porn because regular porn is like, “Shut up, little girl! Wash my feet!” And she’s like "uhhh don’t tell my dad ok? Because I’m just barely legal. I love shaved pubes and tanned, crispy bellies and taints.” It’s like ugh!"

"I don’t have any money. I’m a wittle baby."

“Buckle up, buttercup”

"Money is a mind control technique that used to quantify the progress of the patriarchy!"

"Nose, vagina, butthole. If God didn’t want us to put our fingers up then then why did She make them perfectly finger sized ?"

"I’ll see you when u wake up, and if you don’t wake up I’ll still see you cause I’m gonna kill myself and meet you in heaven or whatever.”

"If you train your eyes, you can see their religion”

“I know it’s like “pwease Mr. Cwusty old white man, can I pwease keep my ovaries?” Alright bitch you better vote, text me when you do”

“I mean we had been together how long, and I still never saw nipples?”

“OOPS I guess I don’t know my own strength”

“Pillows are nature’s packing peanuts!”

“The student has become the teacher!”

"This is some high class shit."

"It's 2014. Anal is on the menu."

"Where ISN'T the bathroom?"

"I was cyberbullied within an INCH of my life last night"

“I saw your tweets and I wanted to check you out but I also wanted to respect your space”

"I am going to respect your dick later."

“You’re my lil cupcake”

“I once ate a corn on the cob. Including the cob”

"Ugh, who YELLS?"

"GET OFF THE BALLS AND GO!"

"Wanna get, like, a bunch of hot dogs?"

"Did you draw that painting?"

“You have to swipe yaas, you can’t swipe naas.”

“I fucked you in the ASS the first night we did ANYTHING. I think that’s pretty fuckin mature."

"Well aren't you a hot diggity dog and a scalawag to boot?"

"In the club, we are all family. Are you racist?"

“Welcome to Florida, America’s droopy dick”

"This is the men's room. Uh DOIIII!"

“You’re so full of shit I need a plunger."

“Thank you SO much for calling me a star”

"I'm an adult. I should be buying my own pot."

"Coat racks AREN'T for babies!"

"My biggest weakness is that I lose my purse a lot. But my biggest strength is that I always get it back."

"I like to call it jazz becomes it comes out of my horn, and you never know where it's gunna go."

"White people do that dog thing. Black people don't make out with dogs."

"Next thing you know you're pregnant with his sperm and he's sanding down your headboard shirtless."

"We are garbage people living on garbage island!"

"I didn't know you had a veneer and I'm in that mouth on a regular basis."

"I'm not putting weed up inside of me because I'm an adult and I'm responsible."

"I really think you should put your weed in your front hole."

“We’re technically homeless right now.”

"Your ass looks incredible."

"Your ass looks incredible. Your head and body too. But we all know who’s the star of the show here.”

“Who am I? Honey, I have a cyst on my uterus and I need to get fucked until it pops.”

“You want me to FaceTime from the bathroom?”

“Dude, I would follow you into hell, brother!”

“Well, you are funny.”

"Animated movies are where it's at. They're like visual crack."

"All Hollywood media is porn, and all porn is kiddie porn. We live in a rape culture. We just do."

"Who would leave weed in a wall? A weed genius. And she'd leave it there indefinitely in case of emergency."

"Isn't it nuts that pickles were cucumbers? They're the trans people of the vegetable community."

"We are an incredible team and I love you."

"Smart and sexy. She is unreal, this girl."

"I've been overeating this week."

"How DARE you LIE to your WIFE?!"

"Do I or do I not have herpes?"

"Follow your third eye--your clit."

"It's my birthday, I'M KING OF THE WORLD!"

"I mean, the female form---God's hottest creation."

"You have to respect the sanctity of the RSVP."

"Okay, something seems very locked up inside of you."

"You have a way of tainting everything I love."

"I'm gonna be like a successful artist any day now."

"Yeah, I don't wanna rise and grind anymore. I wanna rise and then like lay back down."

"It's like we knew it would happen but we didn't do anything about it."

"ADRENALINE!"

"To be honest, I'm really happy with the way I look."

"WANNA FOOK?"

"Never have I ever read a newspaper."

"This is what living on the edge looks like."

#roleplay meme #roleplay memes #roleplay starters #rp memes #rp meme #rp starters #broad city #my memes #my meme #my starters #okay to reblog #out of shirt #will answer in morning #god I loved this show

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kafka-ish · 4 years

Text

stanley’s sister has got it going on | r.t.

richie’s got a crush and he’s got it bad. the only thing that’s keeping him from the girl he’s been chasing is his best friend—her brother.

word count: 4,665

warnings/included: nsfw (not explicit), fluff, swearing, fem!reader

a/n: as i was rereading this i realized that this is the dirtiest thing i’ve ever written??? (so far). in comparison to other works it’s probably vv vanilla so pls bear with me

In the defense of Richie Tozier, it wasn’t his fault he ended up catching feelings for Stanley Uris’s little sister. There were a lot of things he couldn’t control. Like when his mouth opened and out came a poorly done impression of his chemistry teacher. (Which just so happened to have been done as Mr. Ford was standing behind the boy).

Richie may as well just start a list of things he can’t help, marking y/n Uris down as number thirty-three.

“Hey, Richie!” Well, well, well, if it wasn’t the person Richie had been most desperately trying to avoid. “Are you going to Stan’s tonight?” y/n asked. She was standing outside of his car door while he was in the driver’s seat, flicking through the radio stations, trying to find a good song for the ride home.

Upon hearing the voice, Richie stopped fidgeting with the knob. It was honestly hopeless trying to find a good song at this point. None of the good stuff comes on until later. He turned his head to meet eyes with the accompanying voice from outside his car.

Bad idea.

Of course, y/n chose to wear a tank top and the shortest skirt possible that day. Hell, any day he’d find his thoughts lost in her. Whether she was wearing a bikini at the quarry or in an oversized t-shirt and checkered pajama pants.

“Earth to Richie?” y/n laughed. She waved her hand in front of his face, trying to capture his attention. Little did she know, that wasn’t necessary.

“Actually, I was thinking about being a no-show today. I’ve been neglecting my training.”

“Oh! You train? Which gym?” She was grinning wide and her gaze burned a hole through his heart.

“The arcade. I gotta keep my skills fresh if I ever wanna keep that high score.” y/n rolled her eyes, but his comment still made her laugh.

“Well, can you take me home? Once you drop me off I promise you can have all the time in the world to work on your skills.” Emphasis on ‘skills’.

“Promise, eh?” Richie repeated, giving the girl a hard time. “Did Stan forget how to drive?”

“No…” The ‘o’ part was drawn out. “He has his bird watching club today and I don’t feel like sitting in the sun for an hour while I wait for him.”

Richie smiled to himself, thinking for a moment. On one hand, he shouldn’t be alone with the sister of one of his best friends’, as he had different intentions. On the other hand, he couldn’t just leave his best friend’s sister hanging like that. In hindsight, he had come to the conclusion that there was a possibility of Stan getting mad at him either way.

Taking Stan’s sister home it was.

“What are you waiting for, y/n/n, get in.” Richie finally made his decision.

y/n cheered happily, thanking him, as she rounded his car and opened the door to the passenger’s seat.

“You have no idea how happy this makes me!” y/n smiled, her expression reaching ear to ear.

“Oh yeah. I bet you’re over the moon about getting a ride from your brother’s best friend in some beat up chevy.” Richie tried his best to distance himself. He really did. But he couldn’t help but notice y/n’s figure in the tight-fitting clothes, especially when she sat in such a close proximity to him.

“I don’t think you get it, Tozier.” y/n hummed as she started turning the knob on the dash, finally settling on some rock station. She lowered the volume so they could still talk without yelling over the atmosphere. “We never hang out.”

“We’re hangin’ out right now,” Richie argued, daring to look away from the road for one millisecond just so he could steal a glance at her.

“Yeah, but… You hang out with Bill, Eddie, and Stan, and stuff.” She sounded disappointed.

“I guess it’s different with them.” Richie shrugged. It was different with them. Bill, Eddie, Stan, Ben, and Beverly even, had their group together. They had the same classes together. They faced off a killer clown together.

“I get that you guys have your own friend group and stuff.” y/n said quickly, not wanting to sound lonely or weird from her previous statement. “But we’re friends. Aren’t we?” She said this with an unsureness in her voice that Richie didn’t know how to reply to.

I should’ve just left her at school. What’s so bad about waiting in the sun while Stan’s off watching some stupid birds? I guess it is kind of hot out. But a little heat won’t hurt anyone, right? Besides, she’s wearing a tank top.

Richie peered over at y/n who was looking out the window as her head leaned against it.

A white, lacy tank top that makes her skin look even more—

“Richie?” Concern washed over the girl’s eyes. Her attention turned to him instead of the scenery that passed by them.

Richie whipped his head away from her body and stared blankly at the road. It was almost as if he were a ghost. Except he actually had color in his face.

“What is it, y/n/n?” Richie’s eyes were still on the road.

“I asked if we were friends.” The girl giggled, not being able to take anything seriously for longer than five minutes. “But that’s a stupid question.” She looked down and began to pick at her nails.

“Of course we’re friends.” Richie insisted. The only problem is that I want more and your brother would kill me.

Something inside of y/n calmed at the affirmation. “So we should hang out.”

“Already told ya, y/n/n. I got a date with destiny today.”

“I don’t mind being the third wheel.”

To be frank, that was the last thing Richie needed. It was bad enough that middle schoolers would wait lined up behind him, watching as he lost at some silly arcade game that he still had a passion for. He didn’t need some hot girl hanging over his shoulder while he did so, too. But Richie’s mouth had betrayed his thoughts.

“Only if you want to, y/n/n.” He had avoided trying to call y/n anything other than her name or her nickname. He wouldn’t allow himself to call her any of the cutesy trademark pet names he’d call other girls that he would shamelessly flirt with for fun. He started implementing this tactic in sophomore year once he really started to notice her.

At first, it was the way she greeted him every time the losers met up at Stan’s house. Maybe he was crazy, but he swore she gave him special attention: always running up towards him when she saw him, her lingering by his side before Stan yelled at her, asking if she had anything better to do. Her smile was seemingly wider and her eyes brighter whenever she held conversations with him compared to the other losers—or maybe that was just Richie looking into things too much.

Due to drama and false rumors, y/n had started hanging out with the losers more this year. It was an attempt for her to take her mind off of the absence of friends on her part. None of the losers seemed to mind, even Stan. Thus, she became a regular when the group went on swimming trips to the quarry or slept over at each other’s houses. This didn’t really help Richie’s case. Now, he was basically forced to see her figure in a swimsuit and in every other setting imaginable. Not to mention, he couldn’t do anything about it either.

The two had finally arrived at the arcade. Richie had managed to snag the closest parking spot to the entryway and y/n relentlessly made fun of how he never parked straight until they got in the door.

“Okay, kid. Once you get your license, you can criticize my ‘bad’ parking. But for now, since you’re hitching rides for free, I say you better just keep quiet for now.”

“But you’re so over the lines! I can’t imagine your coloring if that’s how you park.”

“I’ll have you know, y/n, I don’t color. For one, that shit’s for babies. And I am way past that preschool shit. And second of all, coloring’s way lame.” Richie had made his way over to the Street Fighter machine and inserted a quarter in the slot.

y/n watched him thoughtfully for awhile as he fidgeted with the joystick and jammed the buttons.

“Do you want anything to drink?” she asked, growing bored of watching the same repetitive visuals from over his shoulder. But she didn’t think she could ever grow tired of watching him.

“Hold on.” His hand smashed against the buttons in rapid fire movements while he simultaneously maneuvered the joystick. A few seconds after, the game played a pitiful noise and the boy let out a groan. Richie had lost.

“That’s a weird way of saying coke.” y/n hummed before skipping off to the lounge area.

On her way back, she saw Richie’s face contort in frustration. Once again, he had lost to the game.

“Cheer up, buttercup!” y/n passed handed him the glass bottle and Richie had finally stepped away from the Street Fighter machine.

“Easy for you to say. You don’t got an inanimate object beating ya four to one.” Richie pretended to wipe the nonexistent sweat off his brow and looked down to y/n, offering her a smug look.

“Would a kiss make you feel better?” The girl leaned closer to him and got up on her tippy toes, preparing to peck him on his cheek.

This was the first of y/n showing any sign of real interest. And while Richie wanted to bask in the glory of his long time crush finally coming around, his thoughts also drew to Stan. What kind of friend would he be if he made a move on his friend’s little sister? Technically she’s the one making the moves-

Cut it out, Rich!

His internal monologue argued for a while before he realized y/n’s lips were attached to his face.

“W-what are you doing?” Richie belatedly snapped out of his thoughts and came to his senses.

y/n pulled away. Her arms crossed tightly around her chest and her posture was now slightly hunched over. Oh.

“I thought I could make you feel better.” She mumbled. When she eventually spoke, she let out a breath she wasn’t aware she was holding in. “Can you take me home?” She asked, though it was more of a statement than a question.

“Of course.” The two started heading for the door and Richie tried to slow his pace so that his long legs would be in sync with hers. “To be honest, y/n/n, I was kinda getting tired of this ol’ dump anyways.”

A small smile graced y/n’s lips as he talked. Even if she was still embarrassed from the previous events.

“You’re not gonna be a professional video game player?”

“Oh no. That dream’s been abandoned for a long time now.” Richie quipped back. He was turning the keys into the ignition and began to drive off.

The car ride to Stan’s place was silent. Either because of the turn that had taken place earlier at the arcade, or because Richie didn’t wanna open his big mouth and accidentally slip up; ruining his relationship with both Stan the Man and Stan the Man’s hot sister.

Richie’s old chevy slowly came to a stop at the front of Stan’s house. The sky was cloudless and an unnerving shade of blue today, highlighting how perfectly trim and green Uris’s lawn was.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” y/n finally spoke up. Her voice foreign to Richie’s ears after the fifteen minutes of dead air from the two of them. But it wasn’t that foreign. Her voice echoed through his brain practically everyday. Whenever classes got boring or nights seemed endless, Richie found himself either replaying past conversations between them. Or other scenarios… She was an unhealthy addiction he couldn’t quit. Like smoking, only hotter and way more deadly.

“What’s there to talk about?” Richie faced y/n, putting on his best ‘I’m-not-interested-in-you’ face, when he really felt quite the opposite.

“Richie, I feel like you don’t like me.” Her accusation was dead wrong, but there was hurt in her eyes. Somehow, Richie had managed to convince the girl of his dreams he hates her when that couldn’t be less true.

“I don’t.” He forced a chuckle to ease the tension but y/n wasn’t having it.

“Can I tell you something?” y/n asked. Richie nodded, a quizzical look on his face. Before continuing, y/n swallowed. She didn’t usually get nervous, but Richie was someone to get nervous over. “I like you.”

Her words felt like something out of a dream Richie once had before.

“What can I say, kid. It’s impossible not to.” Of course, y/n didn’t really like him. At least, not like that. She was probably just saying this for shits and giggles. Pulling his leg. A classic Richie stunt.

“I mean, I like you like how Ben likes Beverly.”

Richie’s eyes then widened at the declaration and his body stiffened.

“It’s okay if you don’t like me back,” she said with such ease that Richie admired. She shrugged and the thin strap of her tank top fell down her shoulder. Richie couldn’t help but notice, his eyes wandering where they shouldn’t.

“Listen—” He gulped. His eyes kept trailing down no matter how hard he tried not to. “Listen,” he repeated, now meeting her big eyes, “I don’t not like you, y/n/n. In fact the funny thing is… is—” his words got caught in his throat. He couldn’t bring himself to tell her. Not with Stan’s breathing always down his back (whether Stan was actually there or not).

“What’s so funny, Rich?” Her soft, sweet voice filled his ears once again. It was like a spell, because suddenly (and conveniently), the thought of Stan was no longer in the back of Richie’s mind.

“I like you too, kid.” His voice was low, but y/n still heard him.

“So what’s stopping this?” A sly smirk formed on y/n’s face. She climbed over the control panel and her already short skirt rode up to be even higher.

y/n sat herself on Richie’s lap. The boy had to keep from pinching himself. What was happening was straight out of a wet dream of his he’d probably had last night.

The girl on his lap was toying with a strand of his hair while looking into his eyes. Her shoulder was still bare from the strap that fell off it.

“I’m so glad you feel the same way.” Richie didn’t think he could help himself any longer with the sultry way she was speaking and the fact that she was on his lap. “Now I can do this.”

y/n placed a tender kiss to the awestruck boy’s lips. It was slow and steady. She didn’t want to mess things up since they had just admitted their feelings to one another.

But Richie was impatient.

As soon as she pulled away, he connected his lips to hers again. He was sloppy and fast paced with his movements, yet still full of passion.

y/n giggled into his mouth which caused Richie’s heart to skip a beat. She’d been waiting for this moment since she first laid eyes on him.

The first time Richie stepped foot into the Uris household, y/n had greeted him excitedly.

“y/n could you get that!” Stan shouted to her from their den. He was busy setting up board games, making sure every last piece was in its designated place.

“Why do I have to?” y/n grumbled, still walking out of her room so she could get to the door anyway. “You were closer.”

“I’m preparing for game night. This is the first time my friends are coming over and I want everything to be suitable.” Stan was polishing the game pieces now.

“I don’t think your friends will mind if one of your little thing-a-ma-bobs is out of place.” y/n jokingly tipped over one of the players to Stanley’s game that he had already put into place but she quickly put it back upon noticing the discontent that marked his face as she did so.

“I’ll mind.” Her brother replied calmly.

Another knock at the door.

“Can you please get that?”

y/n got up and walked over to the door. She was first met with a lanky boy whose legs were too long for his torso and eyes were too big for his face.

She didn’t expect Stan’s friends to be hot.

“Hi!” y/n exclaimed, hoping to give off a good impression on the group.

“I didn’t know Stan had an underaged maid. I guess the Uris’ will do anything for labor work.” No one laughed at Richies joke.

“That’s Stan’s sister, dipwad,” Eddie said, disgusted at his friend.

Richie made an ‘o’ shape with his mouth and the group shuffled in, meeting Stan in the den.

“Stan you never told me you had a hottie for a sister.” y/n could hear Richie’s voice from across the hall. Her intestines turned into butterflies and she could pass for a canary with how red her face had gotten.

But despite having the hugest crush on Richie, y/n never shared any classes with the boy. She was a year younger than Stan, but in the same grade as him because of the accelerated classes she took. So y/n had to admire from afar.

Well, not anymore.

Her lips were now attached to his neck, eliciting a moan from him. She smirked at that and started to roll her hips against his. Her name fell from his lips over and over and over again which evoked her to keep going.

“Richie!?” An angered voice called from the outside of his car.

It was the one and only. Stanley Uris.

It was too late to act fast. Richie pulled y/n off him and looked guiltily out the window to see the face that matched the voice.

But Richie already knew who it was.

“Who me? I dink you ghat de wrahng goey.” Richie did his best Irish man accent but it was no use.

“Okay, Richie, cut the crap.” Stan’s face was twisted up in an expression that almost scared Richie. His hands were folded against his chest and he was waiting for an answer.

Richie simply couldn’t bring himself to answer the boy. He sat in shame with y/n next to him staring at her brother. Richie may as well have had ‘I’M SORRY’ written on his forehead with the way he was gaping at Stan.

“y/n get out of the car.” Stan said, breaking eye contact with his friend.

The girl complied, whispering about how sorry she was to the boy who drove her home before getting out. After that, she didn’t dare glance back at him in his car and Richie didn’t have the energy to even look anywhere besides the steering wheel.

That was last week. Since then, Stan and Richie hadn’t said a word to each other. Richie hadn’t spoken to y/n since then either. The tension was too thick between Stan and Richie and Richie didn’t want to mess things up more than he already did.

“I c-cuh-can’t believe yo-you liked y/n.” Bill chuckled.

It was after school and the two were in the library. The details of what happened that day eventually got out. Both Stan and Richie had told their sides of the story and the losers were respectful enough to not take sides. They just hung out with Richie when Stan wasn’t around and hung out with Stan when Richie wasn’t there.

“What’s so bad about that?” Richie looked skeptically at his friend, trying his best to defend himself.

“I mean, yea-yeah sh-sh-she’s cute—”

“She’s beautiful.” Richie cut off but Bill rolled his eyes.

“What-h-ever. I-it’s just funny tha-hat you wuh-would go after her.”

“I already told you she kissed me first.” Richie proclaimed, a little too proudly.

“Sh-he’s Stan’s sister!” That was true.

“And a good kisser.” That was also true.

“Gross, Richie.” Bill returned to the book in front of him, but Richie kept egging on the conversation.

“I don’t see why someone has to be off limits just because they’re related to a friend.” His annoyed tone was evident and Bill gave him a sympathetic look.

“It-t’s b-ba-basically written in th-the br-r-ro code.” Bill paused for a moment and Richie didn’t know if it was because he was embarrassed of his stuttering or if he was gathering his thoughts. “But i-i-if you li-li-like her… wh-who am I to s-suh-say any-th-thing.”

If Bill was insinuating what Richie thought he was, then that made him cooler than he already was.

And that’s how Richie found himself in y/n’s room Friday night. The losers were meeting up at the Aladdin to see the new Jim Carrey movie and somehow Richie had been able to get himself out of it, claiming he was overdue on chores and couldn’t make it.

“Th-that’s t-too bad, R-Rich.” Bill said over the phone (but he knew better) while the other losers pressed their ear up against it, listening in. “The c-co-omedy should be ri-right up your alley.”

“Dumb and underdeveloped?” Eddie asked Bill. “I don’t wanna see a movie just to hate it,” he complained.

“Yowza, Eds. And I thought you appreciated my jokes.” Richie feigned hurt over the speaker. “Anywho, I gotta make like a tree and hang up. The ‘rents are asking for me.” They weren’t.

“O-okay. Maybe nuh-nuh-next wee—” Beep.

Richie had already hung up.

y/n grabbed his hand, which was clamped over her mouth and took it off. She was bursting to the seams with laughter.

“I can’t believe you’re a liar now,” she tsked, trying to fake an ‘I’m-not-mad-at-you-just-disappointed’ look that her English teacher had given her once.

“Only under these circumstances.” He was fast to attach his lips to hers. They didn’t have much time and he wanted to make the most of what they had now.

Richie was on top of her now, his lips still on hers. He kissed her everywhere from the crown of her head to the crook of her neck. If his kisses left a print, her skin would be buried under them.

“Rich…” She sighed contentedly, eyes fluttering from the pleasure he inflicted on her when he had found a sweet spot behind her ear. y/n kissed him back hard with force and a sort of dominance Richie didn’t know she had in her.

She flipped them, so that she was on top now. y/n took this liberty of having full control to take off her shirt and Richie’s as well.

Richie smirked and began to kiss lower. His pace was slower than he originally started. Painstakingly slow. y/n wined at how delicate his lips felt tracing her skin but she needed more.

“Touch me,” she urged. Richie obeyed, his hands were now on her chest, massaging and caressing her delicate skin.

There weren’t enough words to describe the thrill and satisfaction Richie gave her. y/n could relish in this boy’s embrace forever with how good he made her feel. She began grinding against his jeans, just like the day they were caught by Stanley, so she could ease the ache for him between his legs.

Richie chuckled, feeling her press against him. He knew precisely what she wanted but to give or not to give in was the question.

“y/n/n, we don’t have that long,” He warned.

“I don’t care.” She started peppering his face in kisses the same way he had done to her. At the same time, she began to unbutton his jeans. Who would Richie be to turn down sex anyway?

She was fast at getting him inside her. Definitely not inexperienced. But Richie didn’t want fast. Not with y/n, at least. He wanted their first together to be slow, sensual, special—

“You’re amazing,” he grunted and she blushed in response.

Her pace quickened at his praise. Their movements together felt electric and y/n herself was so hypnotic, Richie felt he could get lost in the thought—or the feeling —of her forever.

A feeling that was indescribable washed over Richie once the two of them were finished. He had stayed inside of her, and y/n was now laying on his chest, listening to his heartbeat and tracing circles on his skin with her thumb. Their chests rose and fell together at the same time, a small action that Richie melted at the sight of.

“For the record, I didn’t want it to happen like this,” Richie said. There was a sort of fear palpable in his tone.

“For the record, you kissed me first.” y/n eyed him suspiciously before giving him a peck on the cheek. “And what does that mean? Did you…” She shyly decided on her words for a moment. “Did you not want to..?”

“No, no, no, no.” Richie immediately counteracted the girl’s suggestion. “I so wanted to do this. I’ve dreamed about doing this—” Richie stopped himself before his talking could make things worse, but y/n found his rambling amusing.

“So, what did you mean?” y/n tried again. She reached out to hold his hand, intertwining her fingers with his.

“I mean.” He let out a sigh before continuing. “I wanted us to be, like, an official couple and shit before we do this shit.” He motioned between them and to where they were still joined.

y/n flushed at the sight and covered her face.

“Hey.” Richie was soft. Softer than y/n had ever seen him be. He took her wrists in his hands, uncovering her face so he could admire her.

She was stunning even after sex.

“I don’t want this to be a one time thing.” He was almost embarrassed to admit it, but with y/n he didn’t feel the need to be afraid. “I want us to go on dates and hold hands and tell each other about our day.” He was looking at the ceiling, daydreaming at the thought.

y/n’s eyes searched his face thoughtfully. “Of course, Rich. I want that, too!” She kissed his lips once more, elated at the boy in front of her. Her face fell shortly after she had a sudden understanding. “What’re you gonna do about Stan?”

“Who’s Stan?” But Richie’s fake grin wasn’t fooling anyone. “Uh, well, we could tell him…” But when Richie saw a certain uneasiness consume y/n’s face, he ruled that option out. “How do you feel about dating in secret?” He offered. The situation wasn’t ideal, but at the time it seemed to be the lesser of the two evils at hand.

“Okay,” y/n whispered. “So you should leave.”

“Woah, babe, I just got here.” Richie sat up, looking for his shirt.

“Yeah, but the movie should’ve ended by now.” y/n gestured towards the alarm clock on her nightstand causing Richie’s jaw to drop.

He was heading towards the window now, knowing he had enough time to get out, but he wanted to be careful.

“See you tomorrow then?” y/n giggled at how clingy he could be.

“I’ll call you.” And Richie just couldn’t get enough of the smile she was wearing.

“Sounds like a date!” He yelled from outside her house.

During the drive home, Richie’s thoughts became lost in y/n once again. This was just the beginning.

#it 2017 #it 2019 #it chapter 1 #it chapter 2 #it x reader #it imagine #it fanfic #it fic #richie tozier #it richie #richie tozier x reader #richie x reader #richie tozier imagine #richie tozier fanfiction #richie tozier fic #richie tozier scenario #richie tozier fluff #richie tozier smut #bruh can this be classified as smut idk

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regrettablewritings · 3 years

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If there's still a slot left, I would like to request some for Cassian: who makes the other eat breaskfast, who brings up having kids, and who takes care on sick days please?

Sure, you got in just in time! (Though wow we do be lovin’ a domestic Cassian, huh?)

Takes care of the other on sick days: Cassian claims to not get sick. You don’t know how true this actually is, but you’re almost certain it’s bullshit and the only reason K2 hasn’t officially spilled the beans is because maybe Cassian did something to his wiring to assure he couldn’t. Admittedly, that last bit is probably an exaggeration, but the point still stands: There’s just no way that a human, mortal captain, surrounded by and constantly in close contact with other beings and also frequently traveling all over The Maker’s vast space, couldn’t get sick. Chances mostly were that, in his stubbornness, he refused proper bed rest whenever he got struck by a common cold and would push himself to perform. Maybe he feared that allowing himself rest would be perceived as a sign of weakness. Maybe he was afraid that by letting himself embrace such a sorry state, he’d be letting his team down. But heaven forbid you pull any of that shit. It’s hard to see Cassian Andor as the mother hen-type (especially when in comparison to Bodhi), but that didn’t mean that traces of it weren’t there. Sure, he wasn’t the obvious type to usher you off the training field or out of the X-Wing hangar from the first moment you sneezed -- he wants to trust your judgement; you know your body better than anyone would. But if any symptoms of any known-illness persists, he’ll keep an eye on you. And if you don’t go to the infirmary for it as time goes on, then don’t worry: He’ll make sure you do. You could be in the middle of training, stance weak and body sweating despite having barely done anything worth working up a sweat over, and he’ll stop you immediately before ordering you to go get yourself checked. Do not argue with him unless you are prepared to receive an icy stare from those dark eyes of his. He’ll argue that they can’t have you wandering around, putting others at risk (which, to be fair, isn’t an improper claim to make no matter how minute the sickness), but it’s honestly more to the point that he hates seeing you even the slightest bit unwell. Once his tasks are completed (heck, maybe he’ll even put them on hold), he wastes no time visiting you in the infirmary or your sleeping quarters depending on where it’s been decidedly best you’d be placed in. Even if the flu is contagious and the nurse droids insist he keep his distance, Cassian won’t hesitate to shoot them a look before taking a seat next to your resting form, affirming his own decision. He’s actually not a bad visitor to have: If you’re running a fever, he’ll assist the medics in dabbing you with a wet cloth; if you need medicine or a shot administered, he’ll easily get you to accept it or even distract you so that it can be carried out quicker; if food from the mess hall is permitted in your state, he brings you some and makes sure you eat it. And sometimes he just sticks around to make sure you’re breathing properly while you sleep. All in all, he may not necessarily be technically taking care of you, depending on how you use the phrase, but Cassian is most certainly making sure that you are on the fast-track to recovery every single time you fall ill. Your health is not something to be played with. Period.

Makes the other eat breakfast: As stated before, Cassian is more of a mother hen than he lets in on -- even though it’s pretty obvious after a point. He can claim that his concern isn’t really concern and that he’s just performing his duty as a captain by making sure your nerf-herding ass isn’t undernourished and thus making it a problem for everyone else. And it’s not the untruth, but it it isn’t the entire truth. He is well aware that the rations provided aren’t exactly a delicacy on any planet. And he knows that you may find it a bit more difficult to eat first thing in the morning, when everything feels way too rich and heavy for your liking. But he’s also aware that you need to keep up whatever strength you have because it ties in with making sure you stay safe. And like hell you survive recon missions gone wrong, dog fights, and explosions only to somehow be taken out due to lack of vitamins. (Yes, that’s a bit of a jump to make but you get the idea!) He really tries not to make it come across as a stern parent demanding that their kid eat their veggies or what have you. But there are very few other vibes to give off when you’re telling your significant other in a firm voice that they need to finish eating their protein pudding “or else sparring today was going to make them see the other side.” You can pout all you want but in the long run, you do appreciate his attention to your well-being -- even if it comes at the cost of you forcing yourself to swallow a glob of what is supposed to be potassium-rich something-or-other just so you don’t cramp up running any time soon.

Brings up having kids: Personally, you’re honestly neither here nor there about actually having kids, but you’re the first to really try and talk about it. Frankly, the idea of having kids even in a post-war scenario is such a big step for you that it seems almost surreal even as a theory. But you suppose it couldn’t hurt to try and gauge Cassian’s feelings about. After all, communication is important for a healthy relationship, even when one half of said relationship isn’t exactly the most talkative or expressive person around. You don’t really expect Cassian to say much on the matter, which is pretty good because he actually doesn’t really know where he really stands on it when you first bring it up. All he knows is that inside, flurry of thoughts are bumping into one another in a seemingly endless storms of “if so”s and “then that”s and “what if”s. The main problem being that the mindset that accompanies nearly everything for him (that is, the one that was born from the fact that his entire life has revolved around war) has somewhat tainted even the most positive of his thoughts. For one, he didn’t want to bring a child into a world where they could get hurt. Specifically, one where war or differing extremes could so much as rip them out of his life. Cassian wasn’t one to play optimistic: He knew far too well that even if he lived to see the end of this war, there was no guarantee everyone would remain calm enough to keep the peace. So it would seem safe to say that he probably just didn’t want kids. At first. Ask him again a year and a half from then, and his answer’s evolved some. You can chalk it up to him allowing the tiniest sliver of hope inside of him instead of rage and duty: He truly began to wonder in optimism if you could truly win this war. Sure, some of those worries he had before would continue to ring true, but the possibility of living in a future where peace was possible began to feel more and more observable. And in those brief sparks of hope and optimism, he thought he could see flashes of a domestic life with you. He saw the home and the bed the two of you would share a lot clearer than any vision of children, mind you, but it was certainly stronger than what he’d had before. Interestingly, it wasn’t when you asked him a third or fourth time that Cassian could see children in those slips of a theoretical future. The war hadn’t even been won yet, though Mon insisted that it was surely near, judging by communications with the Princess of Alderaan. But there was just something so relaxing about the moment, what with you dozing off, head on his shoulder as the two of you decided to sleep under the stars for the evening. This wasn’t the first time the two of you had done this, mind you, so he really didn’t know what possessed his subconscious to deem this moment any different, let alone different enough to leave him deciding that yes, maybe he would like to start a family with you some day. The stars were the same, the constellations were there like always, he could hear the sounds of X-Wings and other such crafts taking off and landing as well as indistinct talking and beeping and all the other sorts of noises the two of you had grown accustomed to on base. Really, the only thing that might’ve made a difference was that darned feeling of hope he’d allowed to let flourish in him. Dumb optimism. A liking for the idea of getting to be with you in one of the ultimate expressions one can, of creating a manifestation of your love for each other together and raising them to be the good he only wished he could be, and to see them become their own beautiful and beloved person -- He almost wanted to laugh at himself. Or scold himself. Whatever he deserved for thinking so inexplicably gushily. Well, whatever the case, he wouldn’t tell you any of this. . . . Okay, maybe a little bit of it. But certainly not all of it. Maybe if you wanted to talk more about it. He would never admit that in his visions, your child would have your eyes and beautiful smile, though.

Thank you for asking and thank you for your patience!!!

#cassian andor x reader #cassian andor imagine #cassian andor imagines #rogue one x reader #rogue one imagine #rogue one imagines #star wars imagine #star wars imagines #regrettablewritings #character ship meme #ship meme

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baobaojng · 4 years

Text

secrets of the hill (jung jaehyun) - fourth

secrets of the hill (jung jaehyun) - first, second, third, fourth, fifth

jung yoonoh (jaehyun) x reader - 1800’s jaehyun!au , arranged marriage! au , supernatural-ish?!au , victorian? i think? !au

themes: angst, fluff, (just some implied smut along the way, i’m far too soft)

reminders: i’m half lazy, so i might not be able to drown myself in as much 1800’s facts as i’m supposed to as a responsible author — SO, yes, this will purely rely on fiction

note: detail explosion....?,,,..,????

summary: in the present day you are confused; you do not know who you are and you find yourself on an impossible quest to find out— until you wake up in the 1800’s, engaged to a hauntingly beautiful and uptight man who tries to figure out why the girl he’s been betrothed to has drastically changed.

wordcount: 5,480

After two or three dozen more pairs joined the opening dance, Jaehyun could no longer locate you. You were suddenly out of his line of sight even when the dance was over.

“Are you alright?” Alice asks him, discretely laying her fingertips on the bare parts of his hands. This does not calm him, not like it used to. The man can only shrug her off. He doesn’t think he can handle you disappearing again— not when it felt like this.

Truth be told, Taeil expertly whisked you away in between the dances to be able to talk in private. But you were not going to have this conversation with him alone, or else you would completely go out of your mind, so you also quickly grabbed Yuta and let Donghyuck socialize with all the young ladies who seemed to be interested in him anyway. The younger lord needed some social interaction, very very much needed social interaction.

“Yuta.” Taeil acknowledges your very specific choice in companion as the three of you make your way through the overly decorated hallways.

“Taeil.” Yuta responds with no title attached to your cousin’s name, and you begin to wonder why they are casual.

“How are you? I see you have intervened with my work.” Taeil asks the butler.

“Not your work to begin with. But I am managing things, like we usually do.” Yuta answers vaguely, wary of your presence. Maybe it was a coincidental mistake to choose Yuta as a companion. “How’s Sicheng?”

“I suppose China is treating him much better now,” Taeil says, “he prefers his title of ‘prince’ in modern day Beijing than in these times.” Sicheng as in one of the largest stock investors in your sister companies in China (in the future), Sicheng. Sicheng the traditional dancer.

“How are the two of you still keeping secrets from me?” You interrupt, but Taeil laughs. Yuta can only smile, but he was just as in on this as Taeil was.

Yuta still addresses Taeil though, “it was never my intention to bring her into the loop of our mess!” He hits Taeil at the back of the head, and the entertainment of this is the only thing that’s keeping you calm. “You’re responsible, you’re telling her.”

“Fine.” Taeil complains as he suddenly slides a hand on what seemed to be an empty wall, and then an opening appeared out of nowhere. You weren’t sure how that could ever be possible, but nothing should faze you by now.

When you enter the room, you are surprised to see that you are in the house you shared with Taeil. Walking through the place, examining if the details were consistent with your own memory - it all seems about right. The cars speeding in the street outside, the flatscreen television, the centerpiece of art displayed where you knew it hung. This was the right place, definitely.

Although you should have felt some relief of being somewhere supposedly familiar to you, you cannot help but feel like it isn’t at all right.

“How is this possible?” You look behind you to see if the entry way was still there, but it wasn’t anymore.

“Time passes by a quarter faster here because of the continuum interruptions,” Taeil comments and he finds himself in his usual seating position on his favorite chair, “but that is because I brought you here. So your timeline is moving a quarter slowly than normal. That means we have twenty minutes to speak here, keeping you more than five minutes away from your husband would be too suspicious. So twenty minutes here is five minutes there, quick math.”

“Her fiancée.” Yuta corrects, as he leans on the wall. Unbothered.

“One of you answer my questions directly, please!” You demand, but they are only calm.

Taeil puts on the ugliest smile you’ve ever seen in your life. “Where do I begin...?” He prolongs his words. “My dearest cousin, have I been lying to you.”

“Biggest understatement of the century, Taeil.” Yuta comments, but your eyes shoot daggers to his interruption. It was a really lame attempt at a joke, especially coming from Yuta.

“Makes two of you the biggest liars.” You say, but both of them throw hands as if it’s the most offensive thing you could ever say.

“For starters, we really are cousins.” Taeil says in defense, but you pick up a random object an threaten to throw it to his face. “Okay, okay. You should know that you aren’t from this timeline.” He gestures around the room to make sure you understand. “You are from where we just came from.”

“Taeil and I are from the same timeline,” Yuta speaks up, “but we are tasked to see through that the timelines are correct. That’s why Taeil can skip back and forth, and so can I, and so can Sicheng - wherever he may be. Doesn’t matter what walk of life: whether billionaire, butler, or dancer extraordinaire.”

“But the lying? Is that some responsibility you two have as well?” You ask the two of them.

“Yes and no,” Yuta explains, “we should not intervene a soul’s quest, but if we have to - we have to lie to our best extent to not make it seem like we are imposing. Sort of like, trying to stay out of it as much as we can.”

“Huh.” You maintain, trying to put pieces together.

“I was just supposed to look after you, and Yuta to Jaehyun and Donghyuck - but you were in trouble those many moons ago, so I had to bring you here.” Taeil says, referring to the future— or present setting, whatever. “But your purpose is not the same as ours, so you physically are not capable of jumping through the timeline perfectly. When I brought you here a year, or four months, ago - you forgot all your memories because the transition was too abrupt for you to handle.”

“But what about all the details you told me about my life?” You ask him, trying to make sense of the life you made in the 21st century. How it was so easy for you to adjust if you came from Victorian England.

“They weren’t completely lies. You are an engineer, and you do like classical music.” You know when Taeil likes to play it off as innocent, but you don’t buy it. There’s more to what he’s trying to say and he’s only buttering you up.

“What else, Taeil?”

“Your parents did die in a fire, and we did grow up together in some sense.” Then that memory you had of Jaehyun confronting you in your workspace is complete, you walked out because the Yang sisters had called you names regarding your parents. Orphan.

“Then what about that letter invitation you sent me?” Taeil nods, whipping the same letter out of his pocket. To which you also recover the same exact letter from your pocket, giving him a look that says ‘how?’

“We have to go to another room before I can really explain this technical time travel stuff,” he rises off the couch and the three of you are off to go to Taeil’s room. Unimpressed by the change in setting, you want to protest, but he slides his hands over the wall and the next thing you know you’re stepping into another familiar place.

The antique shop.

“No, no. Not antique shop.” Taeil explains as if he’s some television host and this is some terrifying nightmare reality show of your life, and you can hear Yuta snicker behind him. “There are two timelines you’re bordering, Y/N. The 1800’s and well, present time. My house, our house in the future, and this antique shop - might I also add, Yuta and Sichengs other wormholes - are all void of the concept of time unless subjected to outsiders. So that means you and my party guests, really.”

It makes the most sense at the moment. “Okay, but what about the letters?”

“Objects that pass through timelines, no matter how rare, are copied and stored here in this infinitely growing place cleverly disguised as a antique shop,” he points at everything in the place. “Think of it like a computer constantly copying a file when it passes through the limbo of code or something.”

“I don’t quite understand?” You realize you suck as trying to understand computers that well, but now that you know you aren’t even really from the future - it makes sense how you’ve been such a grandmother about asking Taeil how to use simple objects.

“Oh Taeil, you’re a hopeless time guide.” Yuta complains from the back, so all of you settle your attention to the shaggy haired man. Suddenly you understood why he was so willing to be patient to teach you around and about the Jeong manor, maybe this was his thing. “Okay, Y/N. Pay good attention at my demonstration.”

You nod, allowing him to continue as you follow his steps around the shop.

Yuta pinches at his suit, and points to your dress. “What we’re both wearing exist in the timeline of the past,” you respond with an ‘okay,’ “but we did travel through time by skipping to your own home in the future, so that would mean that here in the void of time - it should have made a copy for itself. It kind of safeguards the events of time, that’s why.” You are brought to an endless array of mannequin stands, and the most recent are your gown and his suit.

“Which also explains my collection of art, the book I gave you.” Taeil comments, and that’s when you really really want to get to the point of all of this.

“He kind of stole them.” Yuta sneers jokingly.

“Borrowed them, borrowed.” Taeil defends, and you still cannot find it in yourself to join in with the jokes.

“Why did you give me that book in the first place?”

“Taeil was never meant to interrupt,” Yuta silences Taeil before there was anything to say, “but he did anyway.”

“Hey it isn’t like she would be better off here! It would have messed with the entire timeline!” Taeil defends, but you don’t really understand what this all means.

“Souls have purposes that fulfill a timeline,” Yuta huffs, “timekeepers are never meant to interrupt those purposes, and since you lost your memory due to an interruption in your jump in time - he had to give you the book so you could find your way back to your old life. Or else, well, more or less half of the really important contents in this room would cease to exist.”

Taeil finishes it all off, “and I know you’re going to kill us both, but since I’ve done enough meddling, I can’t tell you why I gave you the book specifically. Aside from it getting you back into the loop, I can’t say much more.”

“The two of you are being impossible.” You complain, but you know that they mean it when they say they can’t really do much. The looks on their faces aren’t up for any argumentation.

“You ran away from the manor when Taeil helped you.” Yuta sighs allowing you to see how they didn’t know how to deal with the situation either, “I tried to tell him not to, but we really had no choice. You could have died right then and there, and that would go way beyond unforgivable on both our parts. You have to forgive both of us. Besides, even then, I think it all works in favor for you since you’re getting some of your memories back.” They both wear a sour face, ready to hear a mouth full from you.

“Then if you two can’t interfere, the two of you should give me some clues here and there. I still don’t get how I’m from the 1800’s when my brain is all wired to think in the twenty-first century.” It’s an unexpected reaction, but you know that even if you get mad at the two of them nothing can really be reversed now.

“Time warp, man.” Taeil says, and Yuta has no better explanation.

Technical stuff - you weren’t a fan of the technical stuff; Taeil being a nerd about all the timekeeper things was really just boring. Yuta’s change in demeanor and personality was your definite saving grace. If you weren’t lucky enough to have another timekeeper than your cousin, you were going to rip his hair out to shreds.

Although you could really lay off on the dilemma of time jumping right now; you had a party to attend to. All three of you.

Sliding back into the party, you really believe that it’s only been five minutes. Donghyuck looks absolutely terrified with all the girls who are trying to start a conversation with him, and you arrive just in time to the poor soul.

Before you could come up with a lie to tell the young lord, someone wraps a hand around your wrist.

“The waltz is to start, and I believe I haven’t had a dance with the lady.” You just know it’s Jaehyun when he says it loud enough for everyone else to hear his invitation, the air near your neck changes: you can feel him breathing.

He just loves making it hard for you to say no.

“Now that all eyes are on us, we have to keep up appearances.” You say in a smile so that all the crows watching would believe it was an innocent gesture. As you made your way to join the dance, the first few swings of the violin bows hitting some chords, you can feel the heat from the palm of his hands.

Then it starts.

His feet go sideways first, leaving spaces for your own to follow. “Where did you run off to?” Jaehyun asks simply, as you find a way for your body to adjust to the movements of the dance. It dawns on you that he noticed your short absence, which you hardly expected of him.

“Caught up with my cousin, and some old friends.” His suspicions were incorrect then; he assumed Taeil hid you for the four months you were gone, and since you needed to catch up on things then it would not make sense that his suspicions were true. What he did not know was that he was correct in some sense.

But you turn the tables back around again to him, realizing that neither of you should care about who you were talking to and why were you talking to them. “What about you? You seem to be quite the busy man.”

He tries his best to pretend like he doesn’t get what you mean, but he does - and it’s the beautiful friend he has waiting by the sidelines for him to stop dancing with his fiancée and with her. “Whatever do you mean by that?”

“I won’t overlook the glint in your eyes, my lord. It isn’t like I’ve been overlooking your actions this evening.” It’s bold how you know, and how you don’t have it in you to lie for his sake. The both of you are aware that there was no consistency to how you treated each other. One day you decided you disliked him, and he was only so cold to you. The other times he would side with you (against the Yang sisters’ interests), and you’d think that maybe you would consider being at least friends with him. Some instances where you swear you could feel your heart try to break out of your chest, and you swear it’s not only you who feels that way. But then he could easily blow you off for someone like Alice, and you did not know what to make of that.

“Allow me the permission to catch up with mine own friends as I do with yours.” Jaehyun becomes defensive, but only under the intent to try and not hurt your feelings.

“Allow me the permission to be painfully honest with you.” You offer, but he will not concede.

Retaliation through words is no longer an option, so he wraps his palm against the back of your hand and rests it on top of the midsection of your torso. If small actions were to be relayed the way they were, then you could perfectly understand what this was.

He found himself jealous of your inability to act possessive of him, but not as much as he was guilty.

“We can’t be anything more than this if you act upon your own contrition,” you warn him, “and not because we are different people, in front of many different people. It’s simply not right for us to pretend to all the time for the sake of other people.” Under your best assumption, the looks other people were giving you were that of shock. Maybe because the way you danced was already obscene as it was.

It feels like a growl into your ear when he answers. “Maybe because you’re all that everyone wants tonight, and to that I am of no exception.” You decide that it is not fair for him to be like this, not understanding his character. But you think that he could go and ask Alice for a dance if he wanted.

Quickly letting go of yourself on his grip, you find yourself in the same dancing position as earlier. Playing with the ends of the sleeves of his dress shirt, you let your fingertips glide on his wrist - traveling to his palms.

It takes more than a lot for him not to do anything to you right now, his still cold hands are melting under your touch.

“Maybe is an awfully vague word, my lord.”

Who was this girl, this awfully enticing being? It was you, well in fact, but you were so unfamiliar to him.

“Spare me from the confusion I’m in,” he seems to beg, “but have you ever considered us being anymore than this?”

“Maybe I haven’t been clear enough for you to comprehend.” You look into his eyes, even if you have bended knees - the difference in height makes you challenge him even further. “You know what I said when I said that I knew my place, you should very much know where your own lies. You confuse your heart, when you know it belongs to somebody else already. Do not allow me to intrude.” Taeil, Yuta, and Donghyuck are visible when you dance over to one side - the two older ones are both fanboying, thinking that this is definitely their ship of the century, while the youngest if thinking the same but on a different understanding of the span of the times. Johnny is still uninterestedly speaking with Alice, who looks like she rejected several men who offered their hands to dance with the lady.

The rasp in his voice doesn’t do you anymore justice but he looks back at you like he’s seen you for the first time (considering that you think his attention is not on you) - and to you it feels like he’s really looking at you, “My heart is in no place, and I am afraid I have to know who you are.” Without any doubt he finally says it, he just knows you’ve changed— and it’s changed a lot in him too. It’s only been more than a week since your return.

Nervous laughter escapes your lips. “Don’t be ridiculous, you know who I am.”

“From the moment you defied my chances at knowing where you have been all those months, I knew you were a different person.” It is like he is controlling your breathing and not just your movements, but you gulp - looking at his pale hands and how they redden at the knuckles. “I want to know who this lady is.”

You hold his sleeves, slowly bringing them up to his hands to intertwine your fingers. The cello sounds are even more intense, your head throbs. Jaehyun sees your expression change, your hands hold even tighter to his own.

“My head.” It comes off as a croak, and you are lucky he comprehends this as fast as he can. His hand is delicately placed at the back of your head, pulling you flush against his chest. To everyone else who was looking, it looked like too much of an affectionate gesture.

You were definitely the talk of the town.

For many nights now you haven’t gotten any sleep— but what was worse about the situation, as if it was not bad already, was that you physically felt as if you were breaking down. You were growing weaker.

Getting up from bed the joints at your knees are stiff and brittle, but they feel as if they are going to bend at any moment. It was like you were being punished for staying here.

Ignoring the way you looked: still dressed in your garments from the night before, hair astray, and dark circles enclosing your puffy and worn out eyes - you walked down to the dining hall to greet everybody a good morning. Alice and Jaehyun are there, talking about some old friend from their childhood. You think that because they have always been so caught up in each other’s company, it was to your advantage that they never paid attention to you. It brought up less scrutiny from Jaehyun, for what it was worth.

“Miss, you have not eaten a thing.” Yuta is concerned, but you decide to drink a glass of water and get it over with. Somehow your appetite has also died down.

“I’m alright.” You say, faking a smile. Hopefully they do not notice that you’ve also tried crying your way out of frustration.

“But miss Y/N, excuse me if I am being offensive, you look quite unwell.” He says with a frown.

Despite the butler’s pleas, you go on to start working on the contraption in your workspace. Distracting yourself from your fatigue seemed to be the only thing that kept you sane.

There was a responsibility you had here, an obligation to finish the project you promised Jeong Jaehyun’s father upon your arrival to the estate. The thing about the mines was, despite it doing very well in terms of the ores it yielded, the Jeongs just knew that there was more to it. A conspiracy you never understood because nobody had ever gotten around to explaining it, but you did not mind the truth of the matter - thinking that you were only to build this machine and be done with it.

Overtime it became an obsession than it was a responsibility; back then it was just pieces of metal screwed and bolted together with your hands. That is, until it became a configuration that you couldn’t solve yourself.

Running back and forth from your workspace to the kitchens to refill your pitcher of water, Jaehyun observes just how much you’ve been tiring yourself.

Although he would have loved listening to Alice’s stories about visiting France with her cousins, the sight of you entering the dining hall looking restless was a bit alarming. There was a distance the two of you established, but he wasn’t a monster - which meant that he wouldn’t stomach you looking like this. Not when it was clearly part of the matrimonial arrangement to make sure you were in good health.

“Lady Y/N?” He asks you, and you jump a little bit not expecting the sudden intrusion in thought. You decide you don’t like the look of concern, if you were reading it correctly.

Just when he was going to speak to you about your own health you divert the conversation because it was something you needed to talk to him about anyway. “Ah, lord Jaehyun, I’ve been meaning to show you progress on the mean looking thing I’m working on.”

It is not easy for you to divert your gaze away from him, but you do it successfully. The metal pitcher cold and the water splashing around, but not enough for it to spill.

He tensely wants to help you, stop you because he thinks you will trip over yourself. You do not look any good now that he was seeing you through the different kinds of light passing through all the windows and the chandeliers of the hallways. But he knew better than to try and impose; you always were the kind to lie for everybody else not to worry. A wicked sense of martyrdom, if you asked him, but who could blame you when all there was between you were disagreements? He could very much guiltily say that it was his fault there was quagmire among the two of you - as he was mostly the one meticulous and with temper.

It was often that he wondered why you preferred to keep everything to yourself if it meant avoiding even more conflict. Jaehyun wouldn’t say he hated you, no. In fact he respected your ethic, he thought you were beautiful to say the least, and you were just admirable. Something that blossomed an unexplainable fondness ever since he met you.

Hate would mean he had the intention to resent you and to be angry at you. Instead he found himself actively being aggressive toward you, trying to divert his disdain about being engaged to someone he could not hate. That was the problem, he wanted for you to be somebody so execrable to justify his desire not be betrothed— but you were all but wretched, not even dislikable.

Surprisingly, Jeong Jaehyun was an avid believer of love. Even if it was not an idea fit for the ages and fit for a person of his social status, it was something he held on to very critically.

It was because he knew he loves somebody else, since he was young. Alice Yang was always the perfect candidate to be his wife, and for the longest time he was convinced that part of his life had already been cut out for him in the stars. But for reasons of honor, and the up keep of the name of family - love was far from priority.

At times like this when you purposefully drag yourself over the mud to protect yourself from feeling any less and allowing them to see that you were as vulnerable as any human, Jaehyun always had a question in his mind. A question that scared him, but he could not control his mind off of asking.

What would be so wrong to allow himself to fall in love with you?

Before he can see how you open the workspace, you already have. The room as clean as you always kept it, and the walls painted in the deep shade of red you wanted.

“Here,” you gesture, bending your knees to be at eye level with the controls of the machine, “I figured I never gave you much of an idea about what I’ve been working on, and I’ve been living here for months now. I think the idea is morphed up enough to be clear.”

“What does it do?” He wonders with genuine curiosity.

With the pull of a lever, he sees the parts move. But then a few pieces in the room start mildly shaking, and he can feel his own necklace do the same. You pull the lever back into place and everything in place stops shaking. “I’ve been meaning to propose that the mines use something of magnetism, I know your lineage has always been so convinced that there’s more to the mines - and this could just be of help. After all, you do rely on what is seen by the naked eye and this does not.” It’s a fairly simple explanation, but he is impressed.

Just a few straggles of time, and it’s another reason for him to doubt himself.

Another thing about you was that you were astonishingly brilliant. He knew that ladies from the Capital were different, which lead him to believe that at first all ladies hailing from there were educated. But upon listening to people who knew of you and of your family (his friend group was also inclusive of count Taeil, although they were not that close), it surprised him to know that your own parents encouraged your education. Even after their death, you pursued it.

He wants to feel only amazement in this moment, but his heart falls at the constant realization that he is not giving you a chance, and his eyes fall to your appearance. Beautiful, undoubtedly, but painfully unwell.

The pitcher is still between your palms and your fingers, until your wobbly legs tip over a bit too much and you cannot regain balance quickly. It almost falls to the ground, but Jaehyun is quick to recover the object - but not quick enough to catch you.

There’s a wince to your face that shows you feel pain, and if it were possible he could say that he felt the pain too.

“I’m fine.” You announce even before he can ask you, and it frustrates him. Although he offers a hand, you hastily get up by pushing your palms up to stand.

“You cannot keep acting this way.” He says, meaning to say it for more than just rejecting his recent offer at help, but for everything else you’ve been burdening yourself with.

It is to his dismay that you do not catch the latter intention. “I said I am fine.” You release a broken exhale, jagged - giving away for the fact that you were not fine at all, not in the slightest.

Today he did not have it in him to try to convince you otherwise. “I think that’s enough working for you today. You shall accompany me for the rest of the day.” He knows you are about to protest, “it is compulsory.” Now you can’t.

There is really not much to do especially when he restricts you from doing anything physically taxing.

His entire idea of accompaniment was for you to simply ‘wait’ for him in his study until the male help of the house would move onto their chores for the afternoon, where his supervision was needed. It was true that he did not have to do anything until the afternoon, but it was also a ploy to get you to take even a nap on one of the soft leather cushioned couches he allowed you to sit in, and he had some matters to attend to before you would wake. Jaehyun sat there in his desk, reading through documents.

The lack of conversation was uncomfortable, you think. And the only real reason why he was spending his time with you was probably because the lady Alice was taking a carriage to town to get some roses - for reasons you still don’t understand. The manor was beautiful enough with the greenery it maintained, it did not need roses, but Jaehyun was going to allow her anyway.

You do end up taking a short nap, not noticing Jaehyun slip away from his study to attend to somewhere else for a while, only to be woken up when it was already the afternoon.

“I have to bring you along somewhere,” Jaehyun says and you look very much disappointed that your slumber was intruded so he tries to find a way to compensate, “don’t worry, it’s not that far a walk.”

It is only to the foyer that you go, but all the help were moving about the furniture and the decorative pieces that hung on the walls or sat in the corners. You forgot, lest you lose your sanity over the past few days, that everybody in the manor had been speaking of redecorating to adjust for the arrival of winter soon.

The illusion was to capture the warmth of summer, something that you would be missing when the snow would eventually fall. Albeit Jaehyun was a man, a very virtuously and physically virile one, some of his decisions still made it clear that there was a child underneath it.

A large frame was being carried by four workers, Jaehyun offering to help them carry the thing but they politely refused. He finally decided to put up something that would cover the boring blank space on the wall.

Jaehyun looks for your reaction when the thing is finally put up - the painting.

“It’s wonderful,” you muse, dazed at the large piece of art, “there are like a million of them.” You refer to the people in the painting, never seeing art quite like this in your life.

He can only smile, he doesn’t feel it but you see that he is quiet, nervously clasping his hands together.

“It no longer feels lonely here.” Another thing you say, until you notice the paint stains along the ends of the poorly folded sleeves of his dress shirt.

end of fourth part.

next: fifth part.

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