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honeybeezgobzzzzz · 11 months

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𓅨 Hot Springs Heat: Chapter One

Hot Springs Heat: Morpheus has had a great deal of trouble getting you to understand that he is in love with you. When you go on a trip to Germany to visit a spa resort, he decides to make things clear to you.

Warnings: Nudity? (Sort of), Language.

To Note: Morpheus x Female!Reader, @so-i-grudgingly-joined-this-site this is for you from THIS post.

Word Count: ~2.4k

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You weren’t sure how you managed to get a trip to a hot spring resort in Germany, but you were excited and nearly vibrating in anticipation of the seven day trip. But while you were happily packing your suitcase and wondering what it would be like to enjoy a hot springs, Morpheus was glowering in the shadows. Of course he was pleased to see that you were happy and excited to go on the trip, but he was also very much despondent over your lack of… awareness… of his intimate feelings for you. You were either oblivious, or very much in denial. But in the end, Morpheus could see the truth within your dreams, and wanted you just as much you wanted him.

It was torturous for the Dream Lord to watch as your dreams revealed your innermost desires and bodily beauty. Between the lush sounds that the conjured dream version of him drew from your lips to the way your body shifted and writhed, the way you hungrily kissed his dream self… it was agony to know you craved and indulged in him in your dreams, but not when you were awake. Hence his increasingly broody and sullen moods as of late, and why he was ruminating on the idea of making his desire apparent on this ’spa’ trip of yours. It wasn’t like you could run or have an excuse not to address such a topic.

So Morpheus allowed you to happily pack for your trip in a naive blissful state under the pretense that he wouldn’t be accompanying you. When you held up your bathing suit and studied it, Morpheus’s eyebrow rose. It would hardly cover much, what would be the point of bringing such a garment to a spa? His head tilted to the side in confusion.

“I do not understand why you feel the need to pack such revealing clothes.” He spoke as his forehead scrunched. Wear spas not meant to be enjoyed in the nude this era? Letting out an embarrassed squeal, your hands shot to your chest as you clutched your bathing suit there. What was he doing here?

“Morpheus!?” You questioned, your voice high pitched as you tried to calm your suddenly racing heart down. “You scared the shit out of me!” You exclaimed, stuffing you bikini under a pile of shirts to hide it. Morpheus blinked at you.

“I did not mean to startle you, I merely wondered why you plan to pack something so revealing when you plan on attending a hot springs?”

“Well what else am I going to wear while swimming?” You vaguely asked, returning to the task of stuffing folded clothes into your suitcase. Your answer didn’t give Morpheus his answer. Did mortals not enjoy spas in the nude anymore? Perhaps it was for something else… “I’ll be gone for a week so I’m not going to be around. I’ll still visit the Dreaming though.”

“Indeed,” Morpheus echoed, watching as you shoved your things into the suitcase and zipped it shut. You dragged your suitcase to the door of your bedroom. Eyeing Morpheus, you started to wonder why he had been so broody lately.

“Something wrong?” You questioned, questioning what had upset him this time, given his proclivity for mood changes when angered or saddened. Morpheus’ eyebrow rose. “You’ve been moody lately.”

“Moody?” Morpheus repeated with a soft snort. “I do not get moody.” He totally did, but would never admit it. Your gaze was insistent, so the Endless thought, perhaps, to inform you of his true feelings once again in hopes that this time, you would understand or at the very least, not deny what your true desires expressed. “There is someone I care for deeply and wish to express my true ardor for, but they seem to either deny such existing emotions or simply cannot see what is in front of them.”

He was looming over you, staring down at you with such intense eyes that you nearly combusted into the very stardust that swirled within hypnotic blue. Shit. You didn’t want to talk about this. Not when you were convinced that he was in love with someone else and trying to get advice from you. There was no way that he could be talking about you, so you figured that he was speaking of some other stunning mortal or creature he’d fallen in love with. It was hard enough to have such desirous dreams about him loving you the way you wanted. You’d indulged plenty of times not being able to help yourself… you didn’t need the agony of him dangling such a thing in front of you when it wasn’t yours to have!

Swallowing hard, you cleared your throat and tried to empty your mind of your stupid dreams and hopes.

“So… have you told them? Shown then that you like them non platonically?” You offered, silently hating yourself for offering such advice. He couldn’t be talking about you. He wasn’t. You were just a stupid mortal. Weak. Plain. Nothing special. This was some else. It had to be.

“I believe so,” Morpheus answered thoughtfully. “Surely the gifts I’ve bestowed would indicate my intentions.” Your eyes couldn’t hep but dart over to your bookshelf where all your little knick knacks you had received from The Dreaming and other realms, sat. You were a glorified tourist, surely, Morpheus was just being nice by humoring you. Besides, those were just super cool relics, not jewelry or waxing poetic scripture you were sure Morpheus’ prior loves adored receiving. You didn’t care for fine jewelry, or such poems, you liked your knickknacks. Adored them. Hence the very reason why the Endless showered you with such items to no end. You shrugged and gave your next input, hoping to put an end to this painful conversation.

“At this point, you should just tell them.” Morpheus wanted to sigh. You couldn’t be this oblivious… could you? No, you weren’t oblivious, you were just in plain denial. He’d fix that. He’d fix that very soon.

It had been hard to pick your jaw up off the floor when you arrived at the spa resort. Germany was a beautiful country, hands down you couldn’t deny that, but the country side was breathtaking and the spa clearly took advantage of the views. You looked forwards to enjoying the various springs offered, but according to the brochure you’d been offered at reception, some of the spas were nude spas. You were still contemplating on whether or not you’d take part in that, you’d never been around people openly naked.

But this was a once in a life time vacation so you were seriously considering trying it out. Perhaps late night when there weren’t as many people around. Humming to yourself, you lay on your hotel bed and looked at the different hot springs spots. You were definitely going to avoid the family spas, you were here to relax an enjoy yourself. There were some unisex singles spas, spas for couples to hang out and enjoy, and spas for males and females… and then there were the nude spas. Your friend had told you not, under any circumstances, to come back without trying one out. You would. But you were fairly sure that you wanted to try the woman’s nude spa first, before working up the courage to try the highlight of the resort, the nude spa open for men and woman.

You spent the first three days wandering around the spas were nudity wasn’t allowed, enjoying the hot water and chatting with a few tourists that spoke your language. At times, you felt subconscious about your figure. There were many woman around you that looked like supermodels and had the body to match. It made you so self-conscious... but the insanely beautiful woman were nothing but nice and wonderful to you, giving you all the best insights on where to visit while you were in Germany.

So on your fourth night, after most of the crowds had gone back to their rooms and you’d bravely tried out the woman’s nude hot springs, you finally decided to try out the main attraction of the resort. Starting out in your hotel room, you shed your clothing piece by piece until you were naked. Then you pulled on the satin robe the resort supplied to all guests and tied the ribbon around your waist.

“Okay,” You told yourself while standing in front of the mirror. “You had the courage to join the woman’s nude spa earlier today, this isn’t any different... it’s just unisex... but also the main highlight and the entire reason you’re here.” You were not going to allow yourself to go home before enjoying the hot springs. Period. So with your small bag that had your phone and hotel key, you departed your hotel room and headed for the changing room. Since it was practically eleven at night, there weren’t a lot of people out and about. But despite the lack of guest presence, you still felt nervous walking around in only a robe.

Turning into the female changing room, you were glad to see that there were only two woman, both of which were getting dressed. Walking over to a locker, you put your bag in the locker and set the password before closing it.

“I hope you are enjoying the hot springs.” You spun around with a gasp and flattened yourself against the lockers as your heart pounded in your chest.

“Jesus Christ, Morpheus!” You sputtered out, your eyes wide while you gaped. It wasn’t just that he was in the woman’s changing room, it was that he was also in a robe. A beautiful shimmering black one that reminded you of the inner lining of his coat. “This is the woman’s changing room!”

“I’m aware,” He informed you. “However no other mortals will disturb us this night.”

“Disturb—” You repeated, at a near loss for words. “Morpheus you can’t just use your Endless magic thingy to steer the guests away!”

“I can when circumstances call for such,” He replied to you, eyes softly glowing. “You’ve been avoiding me and misdirecting my attempts at expressing to you the entirety of the visceral emotions I feel for you.” He took a step closer and you swallowed hard, realizing that besides his robe, he most likely wasn’t wearing anything else. Much like you. “You have bewitched my conscious and ensnared my being until all that I desire is you.”

“Uh, I don’t think I’m the person to be practicing—” You were still in denial? Very well, Morpheus would move on the next plan of his. It was a bit forward of the Endless, but called for at this point in time. His fingers went to the sash at his waist and he quickly unraveled it. The moment you got a very nice view of his shoulders and chest you were lunging forwards, catching the falling robe before it fell past his hips. Good god he was sculpted. “Morpheus!” You shrieked at him, face blistered with heat while you looked anywhere but at him or his body. “What the hell are you doing!?”

“Expressing my desires directly since you appear to either entirely oblivious to my intentions or simply deny what you long for within your intimate dreams.” Morpheus calmly exclaimed, his eyes drawing along the bare skin he could see peeking out from your robe. You were trembling, your fingers clutching darkened satin while you struggled not to be overwhelmed by the fact that you were pressed right up against the nearly naked Endless with very little between you. Rather than raise your eyes to Morpheus’ because your brain was ever so slowly connecting what had been in front of you the whole time, you stared at his smooth chest. His skin was literally like sheets of stardust. “I’ve seen your repeated intimate dreams, beloved, and know that you want me just as much as I you.”

“Are we really having this conversation right now?” You asked in a strained voice, your cheeks still very much on fire. “You’re nearly naked and I’m in a robe. We’re not having this conversation right now.” Morpheus couldn’t help the twitch in his lips.

"Given that I plan to undress you completely, I fail to see how you being in a robe prevents me from having this conversation.” It felt like every molecule in your body froze, as did your heart.

“I— Morpheus, I’m not…” You were at a loss for words, your mind scrambling to conjure complete sentences. “This isn’t presentable, I should—”

"Since when have I ever been bound by human standards? Since when has something as meager as presentability determined how much I ache for you?" You were trembling now, taking in the glaring fact that all those times where Morpheus had come to you speaking of the woman that had him all wrapped up, was you. He’d been trying to tell you how he felt this entire time, and you’d convinced yourself that the woman he loved, couldn’t possibly be you.

Morpheus moved a hand to the one just barely grasping his robe. Your fingers twitched beneath his touch, but you didn’t pull away, nor stray your eyes from his. Fingers sliding through yours, Morpheus basked in the way his fingers fit against your warm ones. Perfectly, just as he knew they would.

“If you wish to reject me, you may with but a single word,” His voice whispered to you, slow and sonorous. Captivating. Was this really happening? Did a being as cruelly beautiful and powerful as Dream of the Endless, truly desire you as you did he? Morpheus could still see the lingering doubt within your luminous eyes, and leaned close to your face. “If petty concerns are what hold you back from your intimate desires, relinquish them.”

Those words slipped across your lips in a beckoning call, urging and gentle. You could nearly feel his lips brushing against yours, a sensation you had only experienced while deep within your dreams. Faltering for but a moment, your fingers finally released their grasp on Morpheus’ robe and allowed his slender ones to wind with yours. The Endless raised his other hand to gently glide his fingers across your cheek and push back the hair partially covering your face. Then with just the slightest of movements, his lips finally pressed against yours and dreams became reality.

Date Published: 7/9/23

Last Edit: 7/21/23

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#dream the endless x reader #morpheus x reader #dream of the endless x reader #dream of the endless #morpheus #sandman x reader #dream the endless #the sandman #the sandman netflix #lord morpheus

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italoniponic · 2 years

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Howdy do~! First of all, congrats on the 100!👍 I would like this cute scenario: "You telling Azul Ashengrotto to just give you a natural happy smile in exchange for your offer to help him with the Lounge. Just a cute smile, nothing more." Thanks a bunch!

𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲'𝐬 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 - 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭

| Notes: Hi, darling! Thanks you so much!!

I’m embarrassed to say that I studied Azul smile all the way to better describe him (and bc my concentration just fade away sometimes but I call that shameless procrastination). And… idk I’m hoping it’s good somehow bc most of this is me bullying Azul with my love for him but there’s some really cute parts. Describing his happy genuine smile is one of them. And now that I look at this ask again, I’m realizing that I may have completely missed the original point, I’m really sorry

Thanks for the request <3 |

Azul Ashengrotto x gender neutral reader / fluff & some funny bits / use of "you" pronouns

Cherry's Harvesting 🍒 Masterlist

Give Me Your Real Smile

“Please, Azul! You talk like it's going to kill you!,” you exclaimed.

Azul looked cynical, but he had a smile on his lips.

“But already I'm smiling, my dear.”

You clenched your fists and took a deep breath. After Azul had called you to offer you a small job at the Mostro Lounge, the least he could accept was the simple payment you required: him showing you a happy and natural smile. No scams, no cheating, no pretense. A genuine and cheerful Azul that you wanted at this rush time — and maybe for a takeaway!

However, there you were, standing in front of the table in Azul, which despite being full of papers couldn’t be more perfect, organized or luxurious. He had made the invitation earlier but you asked for time to think and organize your thoughts. Time you spent thinking about what you could ask him for as payment.

You would be happy to help him without receiving anything in return, but because bad habits are slow to disappear, you knew that Azul would treat your altruism as a typical exchange of services. One thing for another. And you just wanted to see him smile a little.

Not the closed and thin smile, prepared for the occasion. Too perfect to be true just like the one he was doing. Azul had closed his eyes, his chin resting on both hands, his fingers running past each other, and his elbows on the table. He was cute because he wanted to look cute, as if that would more easily convince you to accept his offer and ask for something else.

Or worse, acting as if that was already the payment.

“You will give me a genuine and pure smile until the end of this working day,” you hit the table, decided.

“My smile is genuine and pure…,” Azul held on when he saw your expression.

“Don't even start,” you sighed. “If you'll excuse me, I'll start the job, boss.”

“I wish you success. And thank you.”

Still, even though he was really grateful for your help and his smile increased by an inch, it wasn't what you wanted to see. You would have to think of something to help you with that.

You said goodbye once again and closed the office door. It was Azul's turn to sigh and lose his pose, tired. Sometimes you were so stubborn with the most insignificant little things. You were very helpful. And because of everything you went through, there was that air of authority and strength that Azul really admired. There was also the patience that you seemed to lose every day with the students at school and that was particularly fun to watch.

Your conversations were very stimulating. When you both agreed or even when you argued, there was this energy around you that Azul was starting to cling to. More than entertainment, it was a pleasant feeling. Passionate, he hated to admit it. He wasn't one who clung to things. Or at least he wasn't until he got to know you better.

“Real smile, huh?,” Azul repeated your words.

He would have accepted more easily if you had asked for two whole salaries instead.

🌸🌸🌸

Azul wasn't spying on you on the service. No, he was just checking you serving the Mostro Lounge tables.

Earlier that day, Floyd had warned him between classes that his mood was bad and would continue that way for the rest of the day until he found someone to squeeze — or read it as “disturb”. What could Azul say? At least, he was warned in advance the way he was tired of asking Floyd to do. That was the most logical reason behind asking for your help. But there was another motive.

Azul could have asked for the services of anyone else, someone like Ruggie who was already used to the work and had already been called in moments of crisis. However, he chose you. He just wanted to watch you a little, even if you spent most of your time far away from him.

But he couldn't ask you for anything suspicious like being his secretary. No, the tweels would provoke him until he died.

If you were acting like an employee, Azul could have more excuses. He could say that he was stretching his legs for a moment or that he wanted to see how the business was going. Or the initial excuse he gave himself: how you were doing serving the tables.

Azul felt ashamed of himself at times. Very few times. But that was one of those. He stood next to the column of the bar, leaning against it in a subtle and relaxed way so that no one would notice anything odd with him. The movement was normal and he had no problem finding you between the tables, holding a silver tray with a few drinks on top of it.

Concentrated, you took out the glasses one by one and put them on the table without unbalancing anything. Since you knew those customers, you were friendly quite naturally. In the light of the bright, ghostly jellyfish lamps, your beauty shone more than ever. It was as if you were already part of that world.

Perhaps the story of the mermaid princess who fell in love with the human prince wasn’t this unreal fairy tale that Azul often thought it was. He could understand her perfectly at that moment. Simply watching you was enough to get that feeling. Azul sighed, then smiled.

Click.

“Complete transaction, fufufu,” a voice spoke from nowhere.

Azul almost jumped where he was, finding Jade with his arms resting on the bar counter and a cell phone in his hands. A cell phone that he knew didn’t belong to his friend.

“What in the name of...?”

Jade laughed at his confusion. Then he took off one of his white gloves and swung it a little in the air, as if signaling to someone. Faster than a shark following blood, you appeared in front of them — having hit the bar’s counter and almost knocking over the tray because of your haste.

“Did he... smile...?,” you asked, gasping for air.

“Look for yourself,” Jade returned your cell phone.

And there it was Azul, in the recent photos, giving you the true smile that you wanted so much to see. It could seem like a simple thing, even banal. But there was a big difference for you and luckily, Jade’s angle was able to use the ambience lighting as a special effect. Azul’s face was clear in several respects.

There were small, subtle wrinkles near his eyes, the corners of the lips were leveled up in the direction of the ears. Even if there was no tooth in sight, his mouth didn’t contract itself too much. And Azul’s eyes seemed brighter, closed slightly but still ajar. You could still see them perfectly, without hiding any intention.

“It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen,” you blurted out, thrilled.

Azul was getting ready to talk about how he was feeling betrayed when you said that. He stopped, shocked, his index finger ripping in the air. You managed to break his pose more and more. Eventually you noticed your own words and tried to put yourself together, your red cheeks as the only evidence against you.

“It’s very easy to identify that smile, you know? Azul smiles like this when he eats fried chicken,” Jade commented, amused by the situation. “Maybe you should do it for him next time…”

“Jade! Keep working!,” Azul ordered, angry and embarrassed. He didn't know what was worse: Jade revealing a forbidden lore or giving you more ideas like that.

“Yes, boss.”

But before turning his back on you two and return to the kitchen, Jade looked at you with an ominous smile.

“I want to receive my payment when you feel disponible. I hope you don't forget,” he said in a silk voice that contrasted the frown under his eyes, the glow of which caused you to shiver down your spine.

You nodded nervously and moved away from Jade with Azul by your side — also worried about that look. The two of you headed towards an empty corridor at the bottom of the Mostro Lounge and, as you lean against the wall, you finally sighed and relaxed.

“Jade is very competent, but it's scary to work with him.”

“I say this to myself since I was thirteen... about the two of them,” Azul admitted, also with a sigh. “What was that all about anyway?”

“I said what I wanted as your payment and I got it. Since Jade has known you for the longest time, he would know how to identify your true expression. Then he would take a photo of you and in return…,” you swallowed. “...I would have to taste the mushroom dishes that he prepared.”

Good thing Azul brought his cane with him because he almost fell at that moment. He looked at you with such an expression of surprise and terror that you already knew what he was going to say next.

“Have you gone crazy? Lost oxygen in your brain?! All this because of a stupid smile?,” he exclaimed, then indignant.

“It's your smile, stupid!,” you answered, your index finger leaning against him and pointing at Azul’s heart because you got closer while standing in front of him. “If you had smiled at me without looking like a loan shark, none of this would have happened! And even then, it was for a good cause!”

You didn't want to hide anything from him anymore. So be it! You would become the guinea pig of the Mountain Lovers Club, there was nothing more to fear for now on. Your serious gaze silenced any logical argument that Azul wanted to throw at you. Were you doing it all because of him? Did you really like his smile so much?

He remembered your words as you analyzed the photo taken by Jade and felt his face warm up. In your words, it was the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. Could Azul really believe that? It was hard to do otherwise.

“I apologize for forcing you to play dirty,” Azul said, adjusting the already perfectly laid handle of your apron to distract you from his flustered face. His expression was still serious, reflecting on everything you said.

“You want another deal then?,” it was your suggestion.

Azul raised his eyes to you, ears attentive. He would leave to comment at another time that it looked like you were turning into a gambling addict. Or, as you often said, a poor soul caught in the traps of a competent loan shark who would put you in debt after debt.

How long could he live like this with you? He wanted so much more, something different with you. But he couldn’t say a word, not a single word, about it.

“You smile at me again, completely genuine, and I will delete this photo so that none of the twins can use it against you,” you proposed, imitating the cunning expression that he always used with others.

For a moment, Azul laughed. He had a slight frown on his nose, resigned and bitter at the irony of being the fisherman caught with his own bait. But when he looked at you again, he said to himself that it was worth it. You were always worth it.

“Deal,” he said.

You two shook hands and you saw it again, closer this time. Azul’s eyes no longer had the light of the establishment to shine upon them but the darkness only increased their intensity. And on his lips, the smile you were looking for so much. Small, humble and sincere. A precious treasure.

#twisted wonderland #azul ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto x reader #twst imagines #twst scenarios #twst x reader #cherry's writing #cherry's harvesting

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the-scandalorian · 3 years

Text

Tempered Glass: Chapter 7

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Reader Rating: M (will become explicit) Word Count: 5.5k Warnings: slow burn, canon-typical violence, cursing, pining, Din in suspenders, fluff Summary: Din takes a job with his old crew, and you and the kid wait for him on Arvala-7. Notes: Sorry this took me forever!

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Image from The Art of Star Wars: The Mandalorian

After you left the atmosphere of Tatooine and jumped into hyperspace, Din swiveled his chair around to face you in the copilot’s seat.

“I should take a job. Everything we made went to Peli, and I don’t like being low on credits. There’s a crew I used to run with...I can reach out to them...” he hesitated then added, “but you and the kid can’t come with me.”

“What do you mean I can’t come with you?”

He sighed, shoulders dropping. “I mean, I don’t trust them enough for you and the kid to come.”

“If you don’t trust them, wouldn’t it be better to have backup?”

“I just—,” he looked away, “I don’t want them to know either of you exist.”

“If you don’t trust them, should you be taking a job with them?”

“We don’t have a lot of options.”

“I could get work somewhere. We could go somewhere safe enough for a few weeks. There are some places where I have contacts, and non-bounty hunting work is usually less conspicuous.”

“I don’t think we should stay anywhere that long right now.”

“But—”

“I’ll feel better if you and the kid are safe together.”

“I—”

When he bowed his head in a silent appeal, your determination crumbled.

“Ugh, fine.”

He sighed in relief, reaching out to rest his hand on your knee briefly. His touch was reassuring.

“But, just so you know, this is only going to work once, so don’t think that my staying back with the kid is going to be a regular thing.”

He removed his hand and turned back around to face the viewport.

“I am taking your silence as tacit agreement,” you said to the back of his helmet.

He chose to ignore that, fiddling with the controls instead.

***

Now that you’d both admitted you wanted to stay together, abandoning the pretense of strategy and convenience all together, things were a little off between you and Din. Neither of you were used to being vulnerable, so conversations were slightly stunted again. You found yourself being overly polite, and Din was doing the same.

That first night back on the Crest, he offered you his bunk.

“I’m not taking your bed. You need it to take off your helmet.”

Besides the unshakable lingering chill of the hull, sleeping there wasn’t that bad. You usually slept with every sweater you owned on and that kept you warm enough.

“Use it when I’m not. You shouldn't have to sleep on the floor.”

“Sure, thanks,” you agreed, knowing you’d never take him up on that. You didn’t want to be on a different sleep schedule than he and the kid.

You did try to nap with the kid in Din’s bunk the next day because there wasn’t all that much to do in hyperspace. As soon as you lay down, though, you knew it was a mistake. First of all, it was crazy uncomfortable (somehow not better than the literal floor and the close walls made it slightly claustrophobic), and second—and far more importantly—it smelled overwhelmingly like Din. It smelled like his pine-y soap and beskar and blaster residue and leather and whatever else made up his infuriatingly good scent. It conjured images of crackling fires and golden skin and warm embraces and taut muscles.

Shit.

There was no chance you were going to be able to fall sleep when all you could think about was him.

The kid, on the other hand, was snoozing contentedly beside you. When you’d fully given up on napping, you edged your way out the bunk carefully, doing your best not to wake him.

Din was sitting in the hull on a long crate against the wall, cleaning his blaster, the pieces spread out next to him. Usually, when you were in the hull at the same time, you’d find a place across from him. Instead, you purposefully sat next to him, drawing your knees up to your chest and leaning against the wall.

You decided you were going to push through this awkward phase and make things not weird right there, right then. And you were going to do that the best way you knew how.

He tilted his helmet toward you momentarily then refocused on the blaster in his hand.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Yes,” he said, running a rag along the barrel.

“How does one develop a catchphrase? Does it happen organically or is there an iterative brainstorming process?”

Din paused, sighing dramatically, set his blaster and the rag down next to him, and pushed himself back until he was also leaning against the metal wall. His helmet clunked slightly as he relaxed it back. “This is the way is not a catchphrase. It’s a tenet of the Creed.”

“And ‘I can bring you in warm or I can bring you in cold’ is also a tenet of the Creed?”

He lolled his helmet to the side, looking down at you. “Okay, fine, that one isn’t,” he conceded.

“So you admit it—you have at least one catchphrase that you regularly use on bounties.” You smirked up at him.

Without missing a beat, Din fixed you with that unreadable visor and quipped: “I’ve been told I have a sexy voice. I’m just giving the people what they want.”

Your jaw dropped, a shocked laugh echoing through the hull. You had planned on teasing him and had not expected him to turn it around on you so smoothly.

“Uh... I was sort of hoping we’d stick to our unspoken agreement to not bring up the stupid things I said when I was drunk.” You looked down at your hands, suddenly unable to meet his gaze.

“Oh, definitely not.”

You looked back up. “Alright, well then in the name of fairness, we’re going to have to get you really drunk the next time the opportunity presents itself, so we can see what embarrassing things you say.”

He paused for a moment, considering, then said, “Does that mean you’ll carry me home?”

You cracked a smile, nodding vigorously. “Of course. That would only be fair.”

A warm laugh rasped through the modulator. You crossed your ankles in front of you, letting your knee rest against the cold beskar on this thigh.

“I feel skeptical of that promise.” He dropped a gloved hand to your knee.

“Okay, okay I can’t promise to carry you home, but I can promise to tie your shoe if needed.”

“My boots don’t have laces.” He lifted a foot off the ground to show you.

You shrugged playfully: “Well, that’s not my fault.”

“This doesn’t sound like a very good deal for me. I tied your shoe and carried you home.”

“To be fair, both were against my will.”

“But necessary.”

You rolled your eyes at him. “Okay, okay, I can’t carry you, and I can’t tie your shoe... so I’ll...,” you bit your lip as you fished around for something else to offer, “...hold your hand? And not let anyone tickle you.”

He huffed and rubbed his thumb over your knee: “I’m not ticklish.”

You pursed your lips. “Right, sure, of course not. My mistake.”

He harrumphed. “Can I ask you something now?”

“I’ll allow it,” you intoned seriously.

“Where are you actually from?”

“Naboo. Most of my back story was true—I just left out the one major detail.”

“Your favorite color?” he deadpanned.

You laughed. “Yes, exactly. What about you? Where are you from?”

“Aq Vetina.”

You waited, hoping he’d elaborate.

“When my parents died there, I was rescued by the Mandalorians and raised in the Fighting Corps.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, placing your hand over his and squeezing gently. “That sounds like a tough life for a child.”

“It was all I knew,” he explained, shifting slightly.

“Still, that can’t have been easy. It makes sense that you couldn’t leave the kid.”

“Yeah,” he said quietly, solemnly. There was a tension in his shoulders that hadn’t been there moments ago.

“Less serious question,” you replied, changing the subject to something lighter.

“Okay.” He relaxed a little.

“Why don’t you ever use a straw to drink with your helmet on?”

“These are the things you think about?” he laughed. His laugh was usually a quiet, muffled sound through the modulator, but it was getting easier to pick up on it. “There’s a seal on the helmet, otherwise the filters wouldn’t work,” he tapped the release on the side of his head. “So a straw isn’t a possibility, unfortunately.”

“Mmm,” you responded, “that is disappointing.”

He gripped your thigh lightly, turning toward you. “I, uh, heard back about the job... while you were asleep. It’s a go.”

“Ah... great. I was kind of hoping you wouldn’t hear back.”

“I know. It will be fine.”

“Okay... So, any ideas for where the kid and I should stay?”

To your surprise, Din explained that he had a trusted friend on Arvala-7. When you agreed to the plan, he disappeared to the cockpit to set the nav—a two-day trip.

***

That same evening, you discovered a new favorite activity on the Crest. Before bed, the kid was being particularly fussy, so you pulled out your data pad and downloaded the first children’s book you could find. It worked liked a charm.

From then on, it became a daily routine: you’d read to him until his eyelids drooped before his nap and before bedtime. Regardless of his mood, listening to you read seemed to soothe him. You’d pull him into your lap and settle onto your stack of blankets against the wall. He’d watch your face, enraptured, as you relayed story after story to him. His favorite—the story that elicited the most chirps and grabby motions and ear wiggles—centered on a family of frogs. You revisited that one at least once a day, sometimes more if he was grouchy.

You weren’t sure how to feel about his hyperfixation on that particular story given his appetite for frogs.

At this rate, your digital library was going to be largely children’s books. You didn’t mind.

You noticed that Din would find something to do in the hull while you read. The first couple times, he sat and cleaned one of his many weapons or sewed a hole in his flight suit. Very quickly, he stopped bothering with an ostensible task and would just sit and listen.

When you were still 15 hours out from Arvala-7, Din was seated on his usual crate in the hull, the one next to the weapons cabinet, as you finished the final page of a particularly thrilling story about a snail. The kid was snoring softly in your arms, so you clicked off your datapad, and got up to settle him in his hammock for his mid-day nap.

“You’re good with him.” Din was leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees.

“I guess,” you shrugged, snapping the door to Din’s bunk shut and turning back to him. “I just think about what I liked as a kid. I loved when my parents would read to me.”

He nodded, helmet trained on the floor between his boots.

“I’m sorry—” you started, realizing how that must have sounded to Din.

He looked up and cut you off. “Don’t be. It’s nice for him to have some normal kid experiences.”

“You know what he’d really love?”

“What?”

“If you read to him.”

He dipped his helmet slightly in acknowledgement, rolling his shoulders back at the same time like he was uncomfortable agreeing with that.

Several hours later, you pulled Din down next to you in your normal pre-bedtime story time spot. He had the kid in his arms. You switched on your datapad and toggled through the catalog of books you’d downloaded, all of which had colorful covers and silly, whimsical titles, until you found the frog book.

“Here,” you offered, passing it over to him.

You leaned your head back against the wall and closed your eyes, listening to Din’s serious, even voice narrate the heartwarming hijinks of a family of frogs. The kid cooed and babbled along.

To your (and the kid’s) utter delight, Din’s rendition slowly evolved into a full-on dramatic reading, complete with sound effects and slightly different voices for each character, as he leaned into whatever prompted the most enthusiastic responses from the kid. You kept your eyes closed and said nothing, worried that if you drew attention to this new development, he’d get self-conscious and stop. You couldn’t help from smiling a little though.

When the story came to its conclusion, you opened your eyes. Din was scrolling through the library of options, browsing for the next book. “What do you think? Which one next?” You looked at him, but he wasn’t asking you. The kid let out a string of gibberish, pointing with a teeny finger. Din read out the titles of several options, selecting the one that triggered the most animated trill.

As Din began the story, he shifted until his body was flush with yours. The places where his beskar made contact with you were cold, even through the fabric of your clothes, but you didn’t mind.

By the time Din finished the second book, the kid was displaying the telltale signs—drooping ears and unfocused eyes—that bedtime had arrived.

Din handed you the datapad and stood to tuck the kid into bed.

As he shut the door to his bunk, you said, “I think you just put me out of a job.”

He scoffed, but you could tell he was pleased.

***

As you got more comfortable around each other, Din took to walking around without his armor—beside his helmet—on. Most of the time, he’d even leave his gloves off. He wore either a flight suit that zipped up the middle or a black shirt and pants...with suspenders. The first few times, it was jarring to see him like that, without his armor. He looked wrong. It was like seeing a turtle without its shell... but if turtles were sexy.

The first time he emerged from his bunk with the suspenders hanging loosely by his sides, you stopped dead, mouth hanging open. He tilted his helmet sharply at you: “What?”

“You sometimes wear suspenders under your armor?”

“...Yes?”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you and the goofy grin that spread across your face.

“What?” he prompted again, shoulders pulling up toward his neck.

“I just really wasn’t expecting that,” you laughed.

“What were you expecting?” The playful note in his voice left you flustered. He took a step closer, much more relaxed now that he was the one doing the teasing. He was getting too good at flipping things on you.

Instead of answering—because you were not about to address the fact that you had absolutely thought about what he wore under his armor—you strode up to him and pulled the suspenders over his shoulders. He stood uncomfortably still, arms hanging awkwardly by his sides.

“What are you doing?” He looked down at his shirt then back up at you.

“I just want to get the full picture.” You looked him up and down.

“Thought about this a lot, have you?” He quirked his helmet down at you suggestively. It was only the second time you’d gotten that particular flavor of head tilt, and you...didn’t hate it. It made your neck feel hot. You disregarded the intense desire to grab him by the suspenders and jerk him toward you.

Instead, you narrowed your eyes at him, enjoying this new bold flirtation. Without looking away from his visor, you hooked a finger through one of the suspenders and pulled it out a couple inches, letting it snap back against him.

“Ow.” He stated it so matter-of-factly that it obviously hadn’t hurt, but for dramatic effect, he rubbed the spot on his chest where it hit him.

“You’ll survive,” you assured him, patting his shoulder and brushing past him to climb the ladder to the cockpit. When you sat down in the pilot’s seat and kicked your feet up to rest on the console, you still had a smile on your face.

***

A few hours later, you were seated in the copilot seat with the child held tightly in your lap as the Razor Crest descended through the atmosphere of Arvala-7. On the way, Din shared how he’d met this friend—he had helped Din when he was originally tracking down the child months ago.

However, when you asked what his friend’s name was, Din said he didn’t know. Honestly, you weren’t even that surprised. Just exasperated.

Din told you the details of when he tracked down the child, including the assassin droid he'd crossed paths with. He explained how he’d teamed up with IG-11, but in the end, he had to destroy the droid to protect the kid. The anger in his voice was raw when he described watching IG-11 point his blaster at the child.

As the dusty, cracked surface of the planet came into view, you asked, “Is that what caused your thing with droids?”

“What thing?”

“Din.”

He was silent for a long moment.

“Droids destroyed my home planet, killed my parents. They’re the reason I was a foundling as a child.”

His words washed over you, and your heart dropped. You leaned forward in your seat to put a hand on his shoulder. He stayed perfectly still, helmet trained on the controls in front of him.

“I’m sorry.”

He nodded stiffly and reached up to squeeze your hand briefly.

“We’re about to land.”

You took that as a cue to drop the subject for now.

***

You and Din, the kid in his arms, approached a small collection of low structures. You swept your eyes across the uniform landscape—all was dry and sienna and flat. The Ugnaught’s homestead was the only sign of habitation in sight. The buildings were brown and domed, and windmills creaked slowly in the warm breeze. Three blurrgs in a large corral watched you balefully.

“Mandalorian!” the Ugnaught greeted, emerging from the door of his low home.

“Ugnaught,” Din replied with a nod.

“I did not think I would see you here again. What business brings you back to Arvala-7?”

“I was hoping that my friends could stay with you for a couple nights—I’ll pay you for the lodging.”

Of course he'd refer to me and a literal infant as his "friends."

You introduced yourself, offering your hand.

The Ugnaught bowed his head slightly as he clasped your hand: “It is nice to make your acquaintance. I am Kuill.”

At least Din knows his name now.

Kuill turned back to Din. “The child remains in your care,” he observed.

“Yes,” said Din, offering no explanation. He set the child down on the ground, and he toddled his way slowly over to Kuill.

Kuill scooped up the baby, and he chirruped happily, reaching toward his whiskery mustache.

“It hasn’t grown much.”

“I think it might be a Strand-Cast.”

You shot Din a skeptical look. He’d never shared this particular theory of his with you.

“I don’t think it was engineered. I’ve worked in the gene farms. This one looks evolved. Too ugly,” mused Kuill.

You raised your eyebrows at the frankness of his statement. He is not ugly.

“Your friends are welcome to stay with me. No payment will be necessary. I have spoken.” Kuill turned and headed back inside without so much as a backward glance.

“I insist,” Din said to his back.

Kuill disappeared into his home.

Din turned to you: “He does that. Just ends a conversation like that.”

“I understand why the two of you get along so well. Men of few words.” You raised an eyebrow at him.

Din nodded, reinforcing your point inadvertently.

You and Din stepped closer to each other at the same time. For the first time, you let the concern you were feeling color your features.

“I’ll be back in three days, if not sooner.”

He was padding his timeline in response to the worry that was etched across your face. You knew Din could defend himself—that wasn’t your fear. It was that, whether he liked to admit it or not, he occasionally let trust blind him. The irony of that wasn’t lost on you, considering how long it had taken for him to trust you. This was the trademark paradox of Din. He was loath to fully let people in, but he had a tendency to take people at face value and assume they would keep their word—because he always kept his word. He had a surprisingly generous worldview for someone with such a violent profession and brutal past.

Din reached down to grab something small that was tucked in his belt—the metal ball from one of the controls in the cockpit that the kid loved to play with. He occasionally pretended to be irritated whenever he wanted to play with it, but you knew he found it endearing.

He handed it to you. “He’ll want that.”

You smiled and nodded, looking at the sphere in your palm. Din raised a hand to your chin and tilted your face back up to his.

Do we... hug? He doesn’t seem like a hugger.

So instead, you offered, “Be careful, okay?”

“I will,” he promised. He stayed there for a moment longer, looking at you and rubbing his thumb along your cheek. Before you could decide if you should also try to hug him, he turned abruptly to walk back to the Crest.

You stayed and watched him as he walked the distance back to the ship and disappeared up the ramp. You stayed and watched as the Razor Crest rumbled to life and took off. You stayed and watched as it ascended through the atmosphere and vanished from view.

***

It was a relief to be off the ship for a few days—even if Arvala-7 wasn’t exactly your ideal planet. It would be a treat to eat real food, instead of shelf-stable ration packs, and to have more than the limited space of the ship to move around in... not to mention an actual bed.

Kuill was a kind and welcoming host. He offered you his spare room, where you placed your things, and you sat down for tea together in his small kitchen.

“How did you come to be in the company of the Mandalorian and the child?”

“I guess he has a soft spot for people who are wanted by the Empire?” you chuckled, and Kuill nodded somberly. “Now, we’re just helping each other out.” You weren’t really sure how else to explain it.

Kuill didn’t press you anymore than that, nodding sagely. Instead, while you sipped your tea with the kid on your lap, he told you about his background—decades of indentured servitude to the Empire before he worked off his debt and bought his freedom—in the solemn, frugal way that was clearly characteristic of the Ugnaught. You understood why Din trusted him: he was forthright, calm, wise.

“What can I help you with while I’m here?” you asked, already anxious to find something to occupy your time.

“You are my guest. You do not need to do any work.”

“I would be happy to,” you insisted. “I would rather be busy. I can help with cleaning or repairs—whatever you need. My formal training was in programming, but I’ve picked up general skills along the way.”

Kuill nodded and said, “Come.”

He turned and walked out of his house. You set down your tea on the table and followed him, the child tucked in the crook of your elbow, happily clutching the silver ball. Kuill stopped in front of the workstation that was a short distance from his doorway. Tools and wiring and various speeder parts were arranged on and around a long workbench and a collection of smaller tables and shelves. The circular backdrop of the workbench was the repurposed window of a TIE fighter.

An assassin droid was laid across the tabletop.

“Is this the droid that Mando shot?”

“I believe so, yes. It was left behind, in the Mandalorian’s wake of destruction. I found it lying where it fell—devoid of all life. I recovered the flotsam and staked it as my own in accordance with the Charter of the New Republic. Little remains of its neural harness. Reconstruction will be quite difficult.”

“What are your plans for it?”

“To convert it from an assassin droid to something more useful: a protocol and nurse droid.”

You nodded. “Handy.”

“I will have to reconstruct the neural harness, and then it will have to relearn every function from scratch. It will be a blank slate on which to program something nurturing instead of destructive. You may help me restore him if you would like.”

“Of course.”

The two of you got to work.

***

That night, when you lay down to sleep, you tossed and turned. The child was snuggled in a makeshift crib next to your bed. You found yourself sitting up periodically to check on him. Every time you checked on him, he was sleeping soundly.

Eventually, you slipped out of your bed, tiptoed quietly through the house, and walked out into the cold, clear night. You walked aimlessly for a while, circling the corral of blurrgs. They were asleep, eyes shut tight, standing in a close clump. Then you turned to head out across the open plain and watch the stars through the thin veil of clouds that dusted the sky.

You were starting to regret that you hadn’t pushed harder to go with Din. He was with a whole team of people who sounded untrustworthy at best, malicious at worst. You couldn’t help but think of all the things you should have said to him before he left. You hadn’t even hugged him.

It was freaking you out a little just how attached you were to a man who you’d known for a couple months.

You walked until the chill of the night air became too much, then turned back.

In the morning, you sat at Kuill’s kitchen table again, feeding the child. Kuill moved around the small food prep area, pulling together breakfast and making tea.

You followed Kuill as he went about his daily jobs, caring for the blurrgs, doing routine maintenance, and continuing the work on IG-11.

You were sweating in the sun, hands covered in grease, concentrating on refitting a damaged arm joint when Kuill’s calm voice brought you out of your train of thought.

“It is curious that the Mandalorian elected to keep the child.”

You looked up at him. “He secretly has a soft heart,” you said, smiling to yourself.

“Yes, that much is clear, but he is also set in his beliefs, and this choice went against the Guild Code. What is curious is that such a small being could inspire a change of heart in such a rigid person.”

You considered his words.

“I... think he was just waiting to find a greater purpose than hunting, to find someone to love, you know? It comes naturally to him, but I don’t think he’d ever had the chance.”

Kuill hummed thoughtfully. “Is that not what we are all doing—looking for a greater purpose?”

“I guess?” You shrugged.

“And have you?”

“Have I what?” you asked, wiping a bead of sweat off your forehead.

“Have you found the greater purpose you were looking for?”

You considered for a moment then said, “Well... I found a purpose a long time ago, when I joined the Alliance, and since then, I’ve been too busy trying to escape the wrath of the Empire to really think about what’s next in the larger sense... Staying alive has been the main priority.”

Kuill hummed again, glancing over at the kid. “You weren’t looking for something greater, but it appears to have found you.”

“I...,” you started. You watched the child, who was siting on the hard ground admiring the silver ball clutched in his hand. “I’m not sure.”

“I have spoken,” said Kuill, bowing his head, and he lapsed back into silence.

You watched the kid as he dropped the ball and staggered to his feet, squealing excitedly as he chased a lizard that darted past him. You wondered where Din was at this exact moment, and your heart squeezed in a familiar way.

***

The second night was much like the first. You walked outside for some time, thinking of all the awful things that could be happening to Din.

What if they turn on him?

What if another hunter finds him?

What if he doesn’t come back?

It wasn't a crazy thought. You were used to people not coming back.

Until that moment, you hadn't considered that you'd be the sole guardian of the kid if Din didn't return. For a split second, you felt the crushing weight of responsibility for the life and safety and happiness of the tiny green child that Din must feel at all times.

Eventually you fell into a fitful sleep, waking early, and the day dawned bright and cold. As the sun climbed, the chill rapidly dissipated, making way for a dry heat that seemed to be the only weather condition on Arvala-7.

You spent the morning helping Kuill continue the repairs on IG-11. You did your best to not count the hours that slipped by. He’d said it could take three days, so there was no reason to be concerned yet.

But... did he mean he would return ON the third day? Or the fourth day?

And for that matter... did the day he left count as day one? Or was yesterday day one?

Did he mean seventy-two hours from the time he left? Or that he’d be back at the start of the third day?

How did I not clarify this before he left??

That evening, you were in deep in discussion about artificial intelligence when Kuill said, “I believe your Mandalorian has returned to you.” He pointed behind you, and you whipped around to see the Crest touching down in a cloud of dust in the distance.

“Will you—?” you asked, turning back to Kuill.

“I will watch the child.” He seemed vaguely amused by your enthusiasm.

You sprang to your feet and walked as fast as you could toward the Crest. You briefly considered running, but that felt dramatic. He’d only been gone a couple days.

Why did he land so fucking far away?

You’d made it about half the distance when the ramp of the Crest finally began to lower with a hiss. Your resolve snapped, and you started to jog. Din descended the ramp, and you were so relieved to see him that you weren’t even embarrassed anymore that you were literally running to him.

Din cocked his head—a curious head tilt—when he saw you sprinting at him across the dusty ground. He paused at the bottom of the ramp.

“Are you—?” he started to say as you crashed into his chest and wrapped your arms around him. He barely budged upon impact.

His shoulders relaxed immediately, and he pulled you tight against him.

Well, if he wasn’t a hugger before, he is now.

“I’m okay,” he reassured you.

“Good,” you said into the fabric bunched around his neck.

After a moment, you released him and stepped back, the steadying weight of his hands remaining on your arms. He looked like he was in one piece, but the slight heaviness in his shoulders told you that the job had taken a toll on him.

“I, uh, missed you too,” he said, a little awkwardly.

You smiled at him and took his gloved hand in yours to walk back towards Kuill’s home. You felt slightly giddy that you were casually holding the Mandalorian’s hand. He seemed taken by it too, his helmet tilted down to where your fingers were intertwined.

“The kid?” he asked, looking up to your face.

“He’s good. Misses you, I think. Ate several frogs. And one lizard. The usual. He is disgusting,” you laughed.

Din made a sound that you would almost swear was a snort. “Yeah, he is,” he agreed fondly.

Kuill was waiting outside his home, the child in his arms. When you and Din were close, Kuill set him down, and the baby tottered over to wrap his tiny arms around Din’s calf.

You watched as Din bent stiffly, slowly to pick up the kid.

“You’re hurt,” you realized.

“I'm fine,” he said.

You felt sure that wasn’t true, but you let it be for the moment.

“Thank you,” Din addressed Kuill. He reached into the pouch of his belt for credits.

“I will not accept payment,” Kuill insisted, shaking his head. “In fact, your friend here helped me make great progress on my current project.” Kuill raised his eyebrows at you.

“Very well,” Din acquiesced.

You gathered your things and said your thank yous and goodbyes, returning to the Crest, which—with a jolt—you realized was already starting to feel like home.

***

Chapter 8

***

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chasingfictions · 2 years

Note

Thinking about the parallel between xander not telling the gang about proposing to Anya at first and then buffy not telling the gang about spike … something about the way they were both depressed but trying to hide it and not wanting to admit their relationship status out loud because that makes it real and I think neither of them think they really deserve it, to have a good relationship, to have their friends support them, to have a semblance of normalcy bc that’s always ended badly, they don’t think they deserve happy endings : (

OH???? OH OH OH OH OH???? ok YEAH this is so?????? xander as buffy's heart, xander and buffy constantly projecting and entangling their love lives onto each other ..... (xander @ biley in "into the woods," // buffy projecting Back onto xander with is anya more than a convenience in that same episode // buffy @ xanya in "triangle" // xander @ buffy all of s1 // xander dating buffy's shadow self in s2-s3 // xander being attracted to all of buffy's boyfriends and also sleeping with her girlfriend faith // tbh cordy getting involved too with making her whole breakup with xander about buffy in "the wish...")

but in s6 this feels especially insane with like??? they're sort of playing tag with each other? this weird revolving door? xander cant tell his friends about his engagement because buffy's dead (which is also insane bc like. if xander is buffy's heart. what does it mean for the being you exist inside of as a heart to be dead i JUST??? like xander cant tell people. his heart is buffy's heart and buffy is dead and JUST???? ill stop now before i cry) ->and then it's because buffy's just recently alive, in the period when she is most intensely repressing her feelings about her resurrection -> xander DOES finally tell everyone about his engagement, and it's the episode before buffy lets go of her attempted forced normalcy, tells everyone about being in heaven, starts her relationship with spike -> also in omwf, i mean all 3 of the couple songs are in a row and all deal with things under the surface that the couples aren't saying, and there's parallels between all three. BUT there is something specifically about xanya's refrain being literally "ill never tell" and spike telling buffy "being with you touches me more than i can say". "im under your spell" is structurally different, where tara doesnt find out until later the double meaning of her song. but the other two songs are explictly about hidden feelings you explictly dont want the other person to hear being spoken out loud, feelings about your true feelings on the relationship -> buffy breaks up with spike the episode before xander's wedding -> buffy and spike have a very sweet moment at xander's wedding and part as equals and also have tbh stunningly good communication considering their whole deal up to this point? the openness of "she seems like a very good attempt at making me jealous" "is it working?" "a little" "im sorry" theyre both just, plainly saying what they think and feel ! the openness is even lampshaded with spike bringing back the pretense in "or-- good -> meanwhile xanya fall apart, dont communicate, havent been communicating their feelings, xander hides things, and they dissolve -> and then the two relationships!!! literally !!! come to a head!!! buffy's ex fucks xander's ex, xander's ex fucks buffy's ex!!!!! and it is this act that finally reveals buffy's relationship to xander!!!!! it's SO!!!! it's SO!!!!!!!!

anyway i didnt mean to go that insane but xander being buffy's heart is INSANE literally she is circling her heart in a cage match until her shadow forcibly confesses to her heart what buffy's true desires are ... I JUST????? and the way this is all also of course about the demon thing. buffy's heart is attracted to demons. buffy's heart is attracted to women who all their friends think are embarrassing . i JUST!!

#btvs meta #ask #SORRY I WENT CRAZY AGAIN GUYS

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intheticklecloset · 3 years

Text

I'll Stay With You (My Hero Academia)

One Shot

Shipping: TodoMomo

Summary: Todoroki finds Momo alone and upset and promises to stay with her to combat her loneliness.

A/N: I wrote this when I was feeling particularly alone a short while back. It was intended to be part of the primary universe but upon rereading it I realize it implies TodoMomo too heavily to fit there, so I made it a one shot instead. A little sad, a little sweet, a few giggles. I hope you enjoy. <3

Word Count: 1,273

~~~

Todoroki stared out at the front patio. This was certainly unprecedented.

She had her back to him, but he could tell something was bothering Momo. She was hunched over in a way that made him think she may actually be crying, and he had no idea what to do about it. He did know he wanted to help her, though, so after a moment’s contemplation, he quietly opened the door to join her outside.

From the way she quickly reached up to swipe at her eyes, he knew he’d been right about her crying. He frowned. “Yaoyorozu?”

She cleared her throat and sat up a little straighter. “Yes?”

“Are you all right?”

“Of course. I’m just enjoying the sunset.”

Todoroki lifted his eyes to the sky. It was true sunset was approaching, but the sky hadn’t yet begun to change colors. He let the door close behind him. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“It’s…it’s nothing, really,” Momo replied, quieter now, giving up her pretense of feeling just fine. “It’s silly.”

“Nothing’s silly if it’s upsetting you.” Todoroki moved to sit beside her, noting how she turned her head away from him as he did so. Embarrassed? Angry? He couldn’t tell.

“I just feel…kind of lonely, I guess.” Momo laughed once, but it was humorless. “It’s silly. I’m surrounded by my classmates every day, and the girls are all so great and understanding, but there are days that I still feel…out of place, somehow. Like I don’t deserve to have such great friends. And then I feel lonely, because I want to hang out with them but I just…can’t bring myself to.”

Todoroki had absolutely no idea how to handle this situation, but he’d be darned if he wasn’t going to give it his best shot. He was training to become a hero, wasn’t he? He couldn’t leave her like this. Not when she needed reassurance.

“You deserve to have friends just like anyone else,” he said finally, choosing his words carefully. “You’re smart and fun to be around. You fit right in with us. You belong here. Don’t doubt that.”

Momo nodded, but didn’t reply. Todoroki determined right then and there that he wouldn’t leave her. Not until she felt better, or unless she asked him to. He settled himself cross-legged on the patio and glanced up at the sky.

“You’re not alone,” he said. “And if you feel lonely, I’ll stay with you. Loneliness really sucks. I never want you to feel lonely.”

Finally, she turned to look at him, smiling a little. Her eyes and cheeks were red. “Thank you.”

There it was again. That something deep inside of him that rose up out of nowhere. He felt it coming but did his best to tamp it down, which only made his heart race instead. He scolded himself. Now was not the time. Or…maybe it was the perfect time? He looked at her more closely, analyzed her features, wondered if it would be appropriate to bring up.

“I…” he started, then quickly cut himself off and jerked his head away from her. No, now is most definitely not the time!

“Hmm?” she said, looking at him.

“I…I’d like to…um…” Todoroki stammered, berating himself even as he spoke. “If it’s okay…m-may I…?”

Momo had fully turned to look at him now. “What is it?”

He shook his head. “Ah…n-never mind. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“You could never make me uncomfortable, Shoto.”

Surprised, he turned to meet her eyes. She was warm and sincere, and more open than she had been just a minute ago. Todoroki cleared his throat, looked away again. Would this ever get any easier?

“I’d…I’d like to tickle you,” he finally said in a rush, instantly feeling heat in his cheeks once the words were out in the open. He spared a glance to catch her reaction, but her face hadn’t changed. “Only if it’s okay.”

Momo was silent for a long moment. “You want to…to tickle me?”

Todoroki cringed at himself. “I…y-yeah…b-but I understand it’s kind of odd, so it’s okay if you don’t want me to. It’s just, I – I want to help you feel better, and this is the only way I really know how to do that, and – and I do like tickling my friends, but only if they’re comfortable with it, I’d never ignore someone’s boundaries—”

“Shoto?”

His first name again? Todoroki looked at her once more, and this time she was smiling.

“You’re sweet, you know?”

He blinked. I am?

“I suppose I could use some giggles,” Momo said, nodding to him. “But not…nothing too rough, okay? Just be gentle.”

Todoroki nodded. “O-Of course, whatever you’re comfortable with.”

She nodded again, then waited expectantly. That was it? She was actually going to let him? He swallowed, taking her in, trying to decide where to start. How to start. “Um…I don’t know how…”

“Here.” She turned her back to him again, scooting back so she was sitting just in front of him. “Maybe like this?”

Todoroki considered, then uncrossed his legs and scooted forward to meet her so she was resting her back against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her. “Is this okay?”

“Mhm.” She murmured, relaxing against him. Todoroki paused. Maybe this was what she needed. Cuddles, not tickles. But he couldn’t deny the desire to make her smile, and she had given him permission, so…

Gently, he trailed his fingers up one of her sides and back down again, testing the waters. She tensed a little, but not enough to concern him. Encouraged, he traced patterns along her sides and across her belly, moving up to her ribs, trying to find a spot that would make her react. It wasn’t until he was in her underarm that he got a couple of giggles from her.

“Good spot?” he asked, keeping his touch gentle.

Momo kept giggling, squirming a little now, too. “Yehehes.”

“I…” His heart was racing even faster now. She had to feel it against her back, right? “I really just want to make you happy again, Momo. Can I try a little harder?”

“Yohohou’ve already mahahahade me happy again,” she replied, turning her smiling face back to look at him. His eyes widened. Her smile made him feel good, like he was accomplishing something. He loved the smiles, the squirming, the giggling. All of the different kinds of reactions he got from the different people he tickled. He loved all of it.

He could feel himself blushing now, but he forced himself to respond to her. “I have?”

“You came to check on me, and stayed with me when I said I was lonely. You made my night.” She gave his thigh a quick, teasing squeeze, making him jump and giggle so hard he fell away from her for a moment. She chuckled at his reaction, patting his knee. “Come on, get back up here. You said you like tickling your friends, right?”

“Um, y-yeah, I do,” he admitted, sitting back up and pulling her close again. “Is that weird?”

“Not at all. I think it’s sweet of you.” Momo leaned against him, completely relaxed, completely comfortable. “You made me feel happy. I’d like to make you feel happy, too. So go on, Shoto. Show me what you’ve got.”

Todoroki was blushing so hard at this point he knew he had to look like a cherry, but her words and her smile were all the encouragement he needed, and by the time the sun had set, both of them had giggled themselves into a happy stupor that loneliness couldn’t possibly break through.

#fanfiction #tickle fic #boku no hero #my hero academia #bnha #mha #shoto #todoroki #momo #yaoyorozu #todomomo #comfort #cheer up #fluff #cute #tickling #ticklish #tickle

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mypersonmyg · 4 years

Text

stream simulator | jjk

pairing: gamer/streamer!jeongguk x reader

genre: fluff, gamer au

rating: g

wc: 1k

warnings: n/a

summary: you want to sit in the comfy gamer chair OR jeongguk’s subs love you more than they love him

a/n: i’m honestly so proud of myself for keeping up with this, even if maybe they’re not great drabbles; anyways...how perfect that it’s the 7th day, the prompt is games and the only boy i haven’t written for is my love mr.jeon? i hope you enjoy :-))

also...i kinda like the concept of this so mayhaps i’ll do more drabbles with these 2, come back and flesh it out more???

prompt 7. G - Game. The otp+ play a game together.

november drabbles masterlist

main masterlist

The hum of a droning program does little to distract from the desire for company, Jeongguk long since locked away in his office. You’re privy to the occasional raise of a voice, laughter piercing peaked ears, enticed by the unrelenting joy. Time just meets the mark of an hour when you’re rising in sweats, sights set on the kitchen for a roundup of snacks curated for an occasion such as this.

You lose resolve as you tread, feet silent with socks against vinyl, towards Jeongguk’s closed door. You debate a knock though you’re reminded of headphone covered ears, the sound of unrelenting alerts and the deliverance of messages dripping with adoration and the occasional well intended dig.

The door is pushed with exerted effort, the will to maintain grip on the items in your grasp. You’re stilled at the immediate whip of Jeongguk’s head, your entrance not as stealthy as planned. It’s with embarrassment that you realize the image of you fits to frame on the sizable monitor.

“Well hello there, come on in,” Jeongguk is less than surprised at your sudden appearance, already working on the plugging of spare headphones, his backup mic slotted into the stand. “The chat is already going crazy with donos because they like you better than me.”

“They haven’t even met me,” You deposit your haul to the desk, face scrunched in mortification. You readily accept the placement of headphones, Jeongguk then rising to fetch a near chair. You take his absence as a chance to swoop in, bottom firmly planting in the gaming chair you’d gifted him. “Hi guys, I’m y/n if you don’t know! Guk never lets me sit in his chair, now I see why.”

You’re able to just catch the flash of comments that flood the screen. Viewers poking fun at your boyfriend and his love for the cushioned seats. Your chuckle is interrupted by his reappearance, a chair significantly less pleasing in his grip.

“Your chat says that you love your chair more than me,” You regard with arms folded, Jeongguk quickly depositing the chair, arms framing you whilst he peruses the screen.

“You guys are traders,” He points to the lens, feigned disappointment painting his otherwise innocent features. “She’s been on for two minutes and you’re already putting me on blast.”

“You’re not even gonna deny it!?”

“Babe, this chair feels like it was crafted by the gods. Tell me it doesn’t.” He fixes a stare, daring a fib. You shrug without the pretense to move, Jeongguk shifting you ever so slightly with encouragement. “Besides, you don’t need me, the chat has already collectively decided that this is your stream.”

True to word, you glance at the screen, the first words to catch your gaze being jeongguk who? I only see y/n <3.

“You guys are so sweet! Why don’t you invite me to your streams?” You ask Jeongguk, his hands already reaching for a half eaten bag, as he settles into the spare chair, all but given up on regaining his spot.

“You can come whenever you want,” He speaks as if it’s obvious past the crunch of a filled mouth. “I just didn’t think you were interested.”

“Not interested in spending time with you and this sexy crowd?” Jeongguk is quick to swallow, eyes widening at blatant flirtation. You feel yourself heat at your own words, unsure of sudden confidence.

“Oh no, you’re giving them ideas. She’s mine, no one else look at her,” You muffle bursts of laughter at the attempt to shield you from the screen. As if to further prove the territorial gag you feel the press of lips to your cheeks. “Maybe this is why I never invited you, I’ve got competition now.”

“But hey look, so many people are subbing!” This catches attention, your headphones half askew, a reminder of the alerts sounding in your ear. Jeongguk turns back to the streamer side, your eyes taking him in as he calls out thanks to the rise in sub counts and donations aplenty.

“Y/n?” You blink, Jeongguk’s attention once more on you, a half smirk on his face. “They said that they want you to come on stream more.”

“Really?” You double check, sure that it’s something Jeongguk would say to boost a shy ego. Sure enough it’s the truth, chorus of agreement sounding off in every direction. You nearly shy into Jeongguk’s hoodie, but simply smile into the lens. “You guys are really sweet.”

“Careful, I’m not trying to let you steal my job.”

“Don’t worry, I love you too much to do that.” Now you’re the one dropping a kiss, thumb swiping along his dimpled cheek. “Let’s play a game!”

“Excuse me? You wanna play a game?” A valid response, your competitive streak not entirely present in this respect. Your explanation lies in the desire to gain the full experience.

“Yeah, we can play something simple like the game with the little round guys with all of the costumes!” You throw your arms out in vague movements, your words not seeming explanation enough.

“Is-is my girlfriend turning into a gamer?” Jeongguk glances from you to the camera, expression undergoing a range of emotion, all over dramatic in right. “I don’t know guys, I might have to end the stream early if you know what I mean.”

“You’re so gross!” You counter with a gentle shove, both of you laughing at the declaration. He begins typing away at the screen, pulling up the game in question your vocals emitting to a rather pleased squeal. “Yes, this!”

“When have you seen anyone play this?”

“I watch you sometimes,” You admit sheepish, the topic never coming up. It’s not surprising you would support his streams, but the thought of being outside when you could’ve been a part of the action dawns.

“Aw, you guys she watches my streams,” Jeongguk coos. “You wanna go first?”

“Oh no, I’m scared.” You respond in tiny, watching as the chat explodes with words of affirmation, still stunned at their ready acceptance. “So many people are watching.”

“Yeah, but don’t worry. They won’t bully you like they do to me.”

“What?” You’re given no chance to thrust the controller away as it’s placed in your palms. Jeongguk leading you blind. You turn to him with wide eyes of betrayal, his hands already offering the raise of thumbs.

“Good luck, you’ll do great!”

#bangtanhq #bangtanidx #bangtanwriterscollective #bangtanuniversity #bangtanarmynet #jeongguk x reader #jungkook x reader #jjk x reader #jungkook fluff #bts fluff #jungkook drabble #bts drabble #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #bts november drabbles 2020

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polite-pandemonium · 4 years

Text

I fixed Start-Up to my satisfaction

No one asked, but here’s how the fix-it fanfic would go for Start-Up if I had the energy to write that (I don’t and I already have too many works on the go):

1. This would be a total rewrite cause the writers clearly never intended to have Jipyeong and Dalmi end up together. Never giving him any real chance was a disservice to the love triangle and since it dragged on for so long, ultimately the characters. So the only way I would feel like I could make it work would be doing away with the triangle all together.

2. Forget the revenge plot, 2STO, Alex, and the time jump. None of that added to the story or moved it along. Ultimately, we could have done without.

3. If I don’t specifically mention something it’s cause I wouldn’t change it or I think it’s so inconsequential to even matter.

This got LONG, so it’s under the cut.

OK, so:

The first few eps go along the same way except for a few clear details: Jipyeong and InJae interact backstage at the panel they do at the beginning. They kind of seem to hate each other? But also a little flirty? Ms. Yoon is equal parts exasperated and entertained.

Leading up to the hackaton, the plot relatively stays the same, but after Dalmi discovers Dosan at Sandbox, Jipyeong, Dosan, and grandma start to realize the lie is going too far. Keeping up long term is never going to work. They all separately agonize about it, before coming together and agreeing that they have to tell the truth. A fun episode full of their almost-confessions ensues! It is humorous!! Light!! They are going to tell her!!

Dalmi is always a little skeptical. How come Jipyeong is *always* around? How come Dosan remembers *absolutely nothing*? Why did he lie to her about being successful, really? Why did Jipyeong help him? None of it makes sense.

Before they can find the right time to tell her, Dalmi outsmarts them. Following the hackaton, she’s messing with the handwriting software they developed, so proud of their work, and the day’s presentation. She picks up the presentation notes Jipyeong marked up and notices the handwriting looks familiar. She compares it to a letter and runs it through the software. It’s a match.

She brings the letter and the presentation to Dosan and asks him for an explanation. He comes clean; Jipyeong was the one who wrote the letters and asked for his help, but he himself was so taken with her that he wanted to keep getting to know her, even under false pretenses.

Dalmi is devastated. She has no idea who this stranger is and now she works with him? She blows up at grandma, couldn’t believe that she would lie to her for all these years and let her humiliate herself.

Once Dalmi has calmed down, grandma talks to her. Explains that she wanted to help her when she was young cause she was so lonely. Explains about Jipyeong, explains that he was young and lonely too. She didn’t expect it to go this long. She just wanted to give her something back after all that pain.

The next day, Jipyeong talks to Dalmi. He explains that he has been indebited to her grandma and has tried to find them. He says that he had no friends then and her letters were his only comfort. He tells her about growing up an orphan and how her grandma took him in. Dalmi starts to fall for him; he’s he first love, the one she has been looking for all along, and he is finally here, and has been through so much.

Only problem? Jipyeong kind of views her as a sister.

Her actual sister though? Continues to infuriate him. He still volunteers to be Samsan Tech’s mentor and the way she keeps messing with them is driving him insane. He’s still tough as hell, but invested in being a mentor. He doesn’t understand why she can’t let it be? They bicker at every opportunity.

Dalmi told Dosan that they’ll have to continue to work together, but she is wary of him now. What parts of him that she knew were real? What part was fabricated? Now that she knows who her real first love is, she wants to focus on that.

Dosan is disappointed, but understanding. He finds out about grandma in the same way and decides to make the code for Noongil in secret. He still cares for Dalmi and hopes she can grow to learn to care about his true self.

Dalmi finds out about grandma from grandma. Idk how but she does.

Dalmi, in a fit of sadness, goes to Jipyeong at his apartment for comfort, and tells him about her grandma. He is devastated. Together, they drink the night away, laughing and crying, talking about their past. Dalmi tries to make a move, but Jipyeong rejects her, saying she is drunk. She says she isn’t and she loves him. He lets her sleep it off. The next morning, she doesn’t remember anything, and Jipyeong has no idea what he is going to do now cause he doesn’t want to hurt Dalmi.

The next day, he sees InJae at work. She asks him why he seems so upset and he doesn’t know how to reply. She says it must be something stupid her sister did again. He explodes and they fight; he doesn’t understand how she can just abandon her family like that, she doesn’t understand why he cares so much. He tells her to go visit her grandma. InJae is confused.

InJae goes and visits grandma and finds out she is going blind. She is devastated; she hasn’t seen her for years and now it feels like she had wasted them all. She ends up going to Jipyeong’s and breaking down, standing in his doorway crying saying she’s never known how to reconcile with her grandma and sister after all these years and now it might be too late. Jipyeong hugs her in the hallway as she cries on his shoulder.

Unfortunately, down the hall is Dalmi, witnessing the whole thing. She had come by to surprise Jipyeong with dinner and to ask him some questions before demo day. She is heartbroken - Jipyeong and her sister?! - and flees.

Right before demo day, where the team is going to present their handwriting software, Samsan Tech is hit with a ransom ware attack. The twins were at it, obvs, and no one knows what to do. Yongsan says they need to call Jipyeong but Chulsan tells him no, they can figure it out on their own. The two Sans look to Dalmi to make the call. Still upset about what she saw a few days prior, she says not to call him.

It blows up in their faces. They were unable to stop the ransomware attack and their data was erased. They have nothing, with a mere 72 hours before demo day.

Jipyeong is livid. He can’t believe they didn’t call him. Samsan Tech fights back, saying that he never believed in them anyway. He’s so harsh and never supportive. Jipyeong realizes he hasn’t been the best mentor.

InJae goes to visit Dalmi. She heard about the ransomware attack and wants to make sure she’s okay. Dalmi admits that she was foolish, not willing to let Jipyeong help cause of her personal feelings. She doesn’t think she deserves to be a CEO. Injae asks if she likes Jipyeong and Dalmi nods, embarrassed, and says she is pretty sure he likes someone else. Injae is clueless and says whoever that is must be an unlucky fool. She responds with her own stories of failure in her first few years as a CEO. The sisters smile; the cracks in their relationship are still there, but starting to close.

Getting ready to pack things up and leave, Dosan is backing up his files one more time. One of the Sans sees the code over his shoulder? What’s this for? He asks. Dosan tries to hide it; it’s the code for Noongil. The team prods at him and he pitches the idea. Wait, this might be something.

Jipyeong doesn’t love the idea; it’s not profitable, they would have to secure CSR investors in like, a day to make it to demo day. But he knows it will help grandma. He agrees to help them make it happen.

Cue montage of them trying to put together a pitch just in time! All nighters! Grandma brings hot dogs! Sleeping in weird positions! But they gotta do it!! They gotta stay in the game!!

It’s the middle of the night, only Dalmi and Dosan are awake, still working; everyone else is taking a nap. Dalmi asks where he got the idea for the app and he confesses it was her grandma. Dalmi is touched. Maybe there is more to him than she thought.

Jipyeong, sleep deprived, runs into Injae the morning of demo day. Things are awkward between them since their hallway encounter. She notices that he looks tired and asks to get coffee. Over 1+1 lattes, she asks how things are going with her sister’s company. He says he thinks they might pull through. She asks if he likes Dalmi and that’s why he’s putting so much effort in. Jipyeong says that she is very dear to him and very important, but not in the way she’s implying. They exchange a look and awkwardly glance away. Jipyeong muses that it was strange that someone was able to hack into the Sandbox servers to get the code; whoever it was must have had working knowledge of Sandbox’s set up. Injae thinks to herself, reflecting on the twins recent weird behavior. Something clicks; she runs off. She has to fire the twins.

Demo day happens. It goes well! They secure a modest investment that will keep them up and running for a couple of years. Everyone is so excited!! Quietly, in the hallway after, Dalmi confesses to Dosan that she is thankful for him. He is bashful in response. It’s cute!

Samsan Tech continues to work closely together. Jipyeong mentors them, like an exasperated babysitter, but you can tell he likes it. Dosan and Dalmi continue to grow closer together, running into each other on the bus and working late, having a bunch of meet cutes.

Meanwhile, Jipyeong goes over to see grandma and Injae is already there. He’s surprised to see her; she’s a little dressed down, making food with her mom. He’s never seen her like this. Grandma asks him to stay for dinner.

Dosan and Dalmi work late one night. No one else is around. They end up talking about their perspective dreams. Dosan says he’s not sure what his is anymore, but he thinks that working on Noongil and with Dalmi and the team will help him find it. Dalmi’s heart flutters.

Meanwhile, Jipyeong and Injae are doing the dishes after dinner. They talk about their pasts; how Injae has felt alone since she left her family, how much she regrets it. He says he has felt alone his whole life. A moment passes between them, as they look at each other. Grandma interupts. They jump.

Dalmi wakes up the next day and looks at the Follow Your Dream ball. She realizes that she can’t stop thinking about Dosan; somewhere along the way, he’s replaced Jipyeong in her mind. She likes how considerate he is of others, how he smiles with his eyes, and how he has a sweet boyish charm. She realizes she might be falling for him.

At Sandbox that day, the news comes out; the twins have gone to Morning Group and are launching a competitor product to Noongil and this time, with a huge financial backing. Everyone is devastated.

Injae comes to see Dalmi about it and they fight; Dalmi says that this must have been Injae’s plan all along. Injae insists it wasn’t and that Dalmi is always looking to blame someone other than face the facts. She leaves, angry.

The team asks Jipyeong if there is any hope of continuing. He admits that it is unlikely they will surpass a product with a heavy backing and corporate support. They lash out at him, saying again that he never supports them. He counters that they only listen to him when he says things they want to hear and they’ll never be successful at that rate.

Saha says they might as well disband. This is hopeless, two strikes against them. The two Sans agree. Dosan says they should consider trying and looks to Dalmi for support. She tearfully disagrees.

They decide it’s over.

Dosan goes to visit Dalmi. They talk about dreams again. Now that it has been taken from them, Dosan knows what his is. He wants to make AI that will help people. He wants to make people’s lives better. Dalmi is overwhelmed and kisses him.

Injae is in her office, cleaning up files, when she notices something saved on an encrypted, secure doc on the server. She goes inside and sure enough; it’s all of the code to hack into Sandbox and Samsan Tech’s servers. She immediately calls the police.

The twins and Morning Group are charged for whatever charged you get when you conduct a ransomware attack. Idk I am not Googling it!!! Their investors pull out - Noongil is saved!!!

Jipyeong goes to Injae; he knows this was her doing. He thanks her. She says she is starting to understand why he cares so much, about family. They kiss.

Dalmi and Dosan stand outside a large skyscraper. They are going to go inside to pitch their business to a huge investor, Jipyeong had made them practice over and over again. They know there is a small chance they will get it, but they are going to try again. They take each other’s hand and walk towards the building.

EPILOGUE; time jump of three years later!!!!

Samsan Tech has created a huge amount of AI software for a variety of disabilities and has their own offices. Yay!

Dosan and Dalmi get married; Injae at her side, the two Sans by his. In the first aisle sits Jipyeong next to grandma, he and Injae’s baby on his lap. Cute!!!

Grandma has a hot dog stand again, cause Dalmi, Injae, and Jipyeong pitched in to help her buy it. Everyone helps out on the weekends and they hang out there with her mom, Jipyeong and Injae’s baby running around, like HAPPY FAMILY TIMES.

THERE I FIXED IT TO MY SATISFACTION

BYE

#start up #start-up #han ji pyeong #won in jae #seo dal mi #nam do san #start up kdrama #start up tvn #kdrama #fix it fic #jidal #dodal #jinjae #this took me an hour #but now i can be free from this show

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buntycake · 4 years

Note

Hey I really liked your writing so I decided to send in a prompt. What do you think the brothers would only reveal about themselves to MC after a long time of dating? Maybe a different side of their personalities or an embarrassing interest? Thank you for the hard work 💕

I’m glad you like my writing! I hope you enjoy this headcanon.

What the Brothers Reveal to You After Dating You for a Long Time

Pride:

Lucifer never seems to struggle. True, he has his fits of irritation as he tries to run Devildom while bringing Diavolo’s machinations to fruition. Even so, to an outsider he always seems to have a plan Z for everything.

The first time you saw him in a less than orderly state was when he called you to his office during one of his all-nighters. It was three in the morning and he had asked you to bring him a coffee spiked with poison. (This would have been alarming to you if you hadn't lived in Devildom for quite some time.)

Hunched over his desk and surrounded by paperwork, he looked exhausted. He didn’t even take the time to save his coffee like usual. It was gone in one gulp. When you asked what was keeping him up so late, he told you about Lord Diavolo's new idea. It had him ripping hair out he tried to figured out how to implement it.

Though he tried to shoo you away, you sat with him until 6 am, when he finally called it quits. This became a semiregular occurrence. (You talked him out of his all-nighters when you could.) Just your presence is enough to make the process of figuring out the impossible better.

When you're more settled in your relationship, he'll start asking for your advice and help. It's hard to believe that someone as persnickety as Lucifer would allow someone to do a job that he could do better, but he trusts you.

It's not always about work either. The conversations you two have about his relationship with his brothers are when Lucifer seems the most vulnerable. He wants to be close with them, but struggles. You are one of the few people he allows to know that.

Greed:

Mammon being completely serious is still an uncommon occurrence in your relationship. He has his more reserved moments, sure, but not bouncing off the walls is not the same as having that solemn, focused look in his eyes.

There are really two occasions when this side of him comes out. One, when he's in DEEP trouble with the witches. You'll know that his debt with the witches has become serious when he's pacing the length of his room and muttering a string of numbers and calculations you can't follow.

Two, when he's trying to comfort someone, most often you. (After all, his brothers aren’t the type to admit when they’re feeling down.) There was once you had gotten to ruminating about the past. Those memories had whirl winded into something ugly. All your past regrets and embarrassments built up and weighed down on you until you began to cry.

Luckily or unluckily, Mammon came barging into your room at that time. He was ranting about some new opportunity for making money. In your melancholy daze, it was hard to remember. You must have looked awful because the switch was immediate.

Mammon gathered you in his arms and rubbed your back until you calmed down enough to talk. At first, he seemed agitated since he thought one of the brothers had done something to upset you. However, as you explained what happened he settled down. He was silent as you spoke and his eyes never left your face as if he was trying to gather up your every word and reaction.

Mammon is surprisingly insightful when he wants to be. What he said to you after your rant was thoughtful and wise – completely unlike his typical persona. You knew the typical fun-loving demon had returned when he said, "Anyway, forget about all that stuff. You have the Great Mammon looking out for you now."

Envy:

Levi is extremely capable. Being an otaku shut-in, it's an aspect of him that isn't immediately apparent and that you've probably only seen glimpses of.

Levi's ability to keep up with all things otaku, while perhaps not impressive to anyone outside of the anime community, is a testament to his persistence. And no matter what normies think, Levi isn't without ambition.

It's actually a little while into your relationship that he brings up an old goal of his: creating an otaku podcast. He was timid as he began to explain his vision to you, but about an hour in it was clear that he knew EXACTLY what he wanted to do. He just needed a little nudge.

After many reassures, some words of affirmation, and a pretty drawn out planning session, he got to work. For the next couple of months, he was busy - completely hyper focused on this goal.

He reached out to some smaller creators in the otaku community to find others interested in making a podcast. The two of you went searching for a place and some equipment to rent out. There were many late nights with just the two of you drafting up some beginning podcast topics.

Levi was a nervous mess before the first recording. You sat in on the first one just to be a calming presence, but in the end, you don’t think he needed it. He had a BLAST. Everyone seemed to play off each other so well.

When the podcast came out, it was a modest success. Those that liked it were begging for more. He was practically vibrating from excitement and overflowing with new ideas after that.

Levi undoubtedly did most of the leg work, but he'll insist to his last breath that it was all because of your support. To him, he can jump any hurdle with you by his side.

Wrath:

Satan is disgustingly romantic. For all the rage he can store in his body, honeyed words and sweet sentiments take their place there, too. Blame it on all the romance books he's read over the millenniums.

This aspect of him was probably the clearest during your dates, where he’ll take you to some unknown, but beautiful place. Even as you take in the environmental or astronomical wonders that Devildom offers, his eyes can’t seem to part from your form. It’s as if your existence is even more surreal.

This sentiment bleeds into your daily life the longer you're together. Most notably when you start finding small notes everywhere.

In the morning you found a note on your dresser, scrawled in his neat cursive. It read, “Your smile is as refreshing as the morning dew.” The smile in question appeared on your lips and you could almost see Satan’s amused smile in your mind.

Another note that said, “Your curiosity is something to be admired and feared,” had you giggling in the middle of RAD’s hallways. You got a few odd stares for that.

Surprise, surprise, there were more in your backpack, textbooks, around your room, everywhere. Each contained a small snapshot of his feelings about you.

At the end of the day, you found him tucked away in the library with a book like usual. When you asked him why he hid all those notes, he simply said, "So, that you would have at least one happy moment each day.”

Lust:

Asmo takes pride in his appearance, but more than that, fashion and beauty are a defensive mechanism. If he looks less than perfect, then there might be merit in what people say about him. They might have good reason to hate or resent him.

When he's at his most beautiful, he can pass those reactions off as people being envious of his perfection. It may seem like a small thing, but it's a privilege to see him before all the primping and preening.

So, when you woke up after one of your rendezvouses and found him still in bed, you were surprised. Usually, he was already up and about, wrapped in one of his silk robes.

He always looked like he woke up fashionably messy. Hair that was perfectly mussed, robe that was draped lazily over his shoulders, and eyes that seemed dewy with sleep, but the smell of bathing oils and perfume always gave away his morning preparations.

Seeing him with bedhead, rubbing at his bleary eyes, and yawning out morning breath was surreal. You thought you were dreaming until he pulled you closer and nuzzled into your chest. His lack of pretense went unmentioned for cuddles and an extra thirty minutes of sleep.

Every time he does this, know that he's choosing to be vulnerable with you. And perhaps more importantly, that he's opening himself up to your criticisms. Ones that he can't/won't deflect and will take to heart.

Gluttony:

Beel is rarely angry. As the peacemaker of the brothers, he's often the one pacifying the others. It doesn't leave him much room to express his own anger.

More than that, Beel doesn't like to hold grudges. It makes him feel guilty. There's already so much animosity among his brothers already; he doesn’t want to add to it.

You were really worried the first time he came to vent to you. He had entered your room a bit solemnly and gathered you into his arms. Then, he’d asked your permission to disclose something to you.

At first, you thought he was sad. Beel had commonly shared moments where he felt sad or upset, but this quiet simmering anger was new to you.

He started off quietly. It was lucky his mouth was right by your ear or else you'd have never heard what he was muttering. The whole rant started off with him confessing how frustrated he was with Lucifer for still withholding information and not leaning on the brothers for help.

As you nodded and encouraged him to go on, he got more confident. The conversation drifted away from Lucifer, to his qualms with the rest of the brothers. All of them for condescending his intelligence on a daily basis, Mammon for always going through everyone’s things, Asmo for constantly stealing his cake, and so on.

Beel had completely cooled off by the end of his rant and was a tad bit embarrassed. However, as he gets more comfortable venting, he'll let you know about small things that irritated him that day. It becomes like a daily confessional ritual between the two of you.

Sloth:

Belphie is notably cynical. However, this gets toned down by his aloof, sleepy persona. As adorable and soft as he is, he harbors numerous negative opinions of the world.

He doesn't trust easily and often expects the worst of people - demons, humans, angels, it doesn't matter. To his credit, when he isn’t blinded by his temper, he’s often right in his assessments. However, for Beel's sake, he typically suppresses this response.

With you, he feels he can air out his grievances. The first of these occurrences happened after a post-nap in the attic. The two of you were curled around each other and he began to let his woes slip out into the space between the two of you.

He talked about everything from his brothers to the exchange program to even his reservations about you. The dichotomy of Belphie cuddled into you, surrounded by a mountain of pillows while lamenting the woes of the world was frankly jarring. But when he finished, he seemed to sink deeper into your embrace like a weight had lifted off his shoulders.

As he continues to talk to you about all his less than optimistic views, they become a sort of philosophical debate between the two of you. There’s something satisfying about throwing each other’s ideals around and deconstructing them. More appealing to Belphie is that the two of you can have these conversations without judging each other (too much) or forcing your morals down the other’s throat.

#obey me #obey me swd #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me asmo #obey me beelzebub #obey me beel #obey me belphegor #obey me belphie #obey me gender neutral mc

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draw-you-coward · 2 years

Text

krytan mulled wine

just another short (~1.2k) trahearne/roza drabble because i felt like it. happy new year everyone!

(ao3 mirror)

~*~

They are sitting on this stolen house’s overly large couch. Roza’s leg is a warm line crossed over Trahearne’s, from the vulnerable give of his thigh to the hard hook of his ankle. It is such a bold thing, Trahearne contemplates, how he has simply thrown a part of himself over him, knowing it would be accepted. Such a risky thing. Is the part of them that is them so assured?

“Behold.” Roza draws a bottle out of nowhere, crystalline and full of amber liquid. “A gift.”

Trahearne is briefly annoyed—of course someone would give Roza alcohol. It takes effort to think of a suitable gift beyond the obvious, more so to be aware of how closely he flirts with a dependency on drink. Is it too much to ask of his friends to not push him towards bad habits? He is fighting tooth and nail to shed the ones he already has.

“Clearly, someone has your best interests at heart,” Trahearne mutters.

Roza looks surprised—his lips part, and his left eyebrow twitches. Then his expression transforms, tilting upwards, softening his eyes.

“It is my gift to you, you beautiful, ridiculous man,” he says with everlasting fondness. “Do you not recognize it?”

Oh. Trahearne grasps the bottle at the neck as embarrassment warms his cheeks. Crystal bottles are a human style, but the elaborate detailing on this one is… unconventional. He recognizes it as soon as it passes into his hand, cold from Roza’s touch. Krytan mulled wine thickened with nectar. An old, familiar taste.

“How did you find this?” Trahearne traces over an embossed leaf with his thumb.

Cheek bends Roza’s spine. “It was still in your cabinet, along with your other attempts at certainly not courting me.” His eyes sparkle. “I will admit, it was difficult to fish out from beneath the pile of romantic dinners and sexually charged conversations, but I am incredibly clever, and thus I managed.”

Trahearne cannot help the smile that summons, even as he shakes his head in exasperation. Roza laughs, a sweet sound, and it is a fruitless endeavor to resist the effects of that as well. He is not made of strong enough stuff. He does not want to be.

“There you are.” Roza’s fingertips sweep along his temple. “No, unfortunately that bottle is long gone. I bought this from a little shop.”

“A little shop.” Trahearne is amused at his wording.

“Yes. A quaint little shop.” The touch to his forehead leaves, only to be replaced by cool lips. Trahearne’s eyes flutter shut.

“Are you alright?” Roza asks softly.

“Yes.” Trahearne takes his hand. “Mostly. I do not know.”

“Do you want me to return the wine?”

Trahearne smiles at his searching gaze. “No, thank you very much for it. It is quite nostalgic.”

“Do you want me to pester you for hours to talk about your feelings?” Roza drags the last word out. Trahearne chuffs, and a sharp chin settles onto his shoulder. “I shall trap you here and say so many sweet words to you and refuse to make you dinner.”

Now that is an unfair summation. “I must regretfully decline.” Trahearne is about to take his playful bait and let the potential discussion pass them by, but… ah…

There is nothing here that he can lose so easily (and is that not the very crux of the matter?). “I was merely reminiscing. Wondering at how we came to be like this. What a disaster we could have been, had the stars aligned less perfectly.”

“Hm.” Roza settles against him. “If your courting attempts had worked, you mean?”

And if they had? Krytan mulled wine but with its sweetness kept secret, evenings stolen under the pretense of duty, love chased between war and death—that is no way to be with someone.

“They were a coward’s attempts,” Trahearne murmurs. Roza looks at him in some surprise.

“Beware—I love that coward dearly and am liable to defend him at the most minor of provocations.”

“A true menace,” Trahearne acknowledges affectionately.

His menace’s lips curve in the ghost of a smile. “But tell me, how do you mean?”

He means that as much as he had been wise to avoid being burned from untamed flames, Roza did not deserve all the hedging around and the unsaid words. They both did not deserve the meagre scraps of a relationship, gathered from crumbs scattered over the ground.

“My heart was too faint to pursue you properly.” Trahearne takes his lover’s pale hands in his own, holding them firmly. “I would not have held you with ease and pride. We could never have had something like this.”

Roza’s eyelids lift. “Something like…?”

“Something with a strong foundation. That lets you joke without carving too closely and lets me nudge without pushing you over. And Mother only knows what all the stress would have eventually done to us.”

“Ah. I understand.” Roza squeezes his right hand. “It is unpleasant to dwell on the could-have-beens, it is true. Either they are better and we resent our current circumstance, or they are worse and we… do whatever it is you are doing right now. Turn into a dour old man, I suppose.”

“All paths lead back to you calling me a fossil,” Trahearne says dryly, though he knows it is an attempt to keep his mood light. He lets it work, content to by entertained by Roza’s idiosyncratic brand of buffoonery.

“But you are a fossil with such very nice hands.”

Trahearne presses his lips together, sensing where this is going. “Do not.”

“The real tragedy is that we never fulfilled your fantasy of having sex on your desk.”

“Roza.”

“Any day now, you will admit to having it.”

“I will admit to no such thing.”

“Do you not remember how you spoke to me? ‘Commander, come sit oh so close to me while I tell you how well you’ve done. Maybe if you are very good we can platonically share a bed later.’”

Trahearne bites back a laugh. “My paperwork would have gotten everywhere,” he says finally. It is as close to an assent as he is willing to get.

Roza flutters his eyelashes innocently. “You would bring your paperwork to bed? Trahearne, my dear, perhaps you should learn of a little something called work-life balance.”

“Oh, that is rich coming from you.” Trahearne leans close. “You paint me as the one with the depraved fantasies—”

“It is hardly depraved—”

“But who was it who wanted to play ‘Marshal and Commander’ just the other day, hm? I am not the one with the kink list longer than Mordremoth.”

Roza scoffs, even as his cheeks turn a telltale gold. “That is neither here nor there, you decrepit old fossil. It is dirty of you to stoop so low.”

“My desk was actually at a comfortable hip height,” Trahearne says.

It takes Roza a solid two seconds to parse that (and Trahearne is just about to explain that he wouldn’t have had to stoop at all, you see, if they truly had—) and then he groans. “Spirits, that was fucking terrible. It is little wonder you never managed get with me before you died—you are as smooth as granite.”

Trahearne makes a noise of protest, and Roza laughs at him. After a minute, he laughs back, and their exchange devolves into the familiar warmth of fruitless chicanery.

~*~

#trahearne #roza #gw2 #writing #drabble #ah... rated T for teens lol #i dont think i could make roza family friendly if i tried 😔

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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years

Note

If you’re still taking prompts, how about an AU where Wei Wuxian is also one of Jin Guangshan’s illegitimate sons

Wei Wuxian’s life might have been different if his mother had gone onwards to visit the Jiang sect, following a glimpse of that handsome young man she’d met so briefly early on, but in the end she’d decided to go a different way – she ended up in Yunmeng after all, but that young man, a servant, had already gotten another woman to be his wife and Cangse Sanren was nobody’s mistress.

She’d made that clear once already.

The Jiang sect leader’s wife liked her on the spot – “Madame Jin conveys her thanks to you for putting her husband in her place, although regretfully that the doctors say his vital root will eventually recover from your well-placed kicks” – and the sect leader liked her, too; she made him laugh, and he liked the child she’d brought with her, a baby as vivacious as she was.

She stayed there a few years, until the sect leader stopped merely looking a little too long and started looking at her instead of looking at his wife. That was unacceptable: it was clear that she wouldn’t be able to stay much longer without tearing them apart. Still, she wasn’t one to leave without making an impact: she took both the sect leader and his wife to bed for a tumble that lasted a week, and left while they were still stunned speechless.

Her only regret was how her little A-Ying cried for his shijie and his Jiang Cheng, who he’d grown close to, but she told him that he’d see them again one day and soon enough he found his smile again.

That was her baby boy, forgetting pain once it’d healed - just like her.

She refused to give his name to her precious son, but she was reluctant to give her own, having learned to her sorrow that this world of men was unkind to women and even less kind to the fatherless. In the end, she kept the courtesy name the Jiang sect leader had given him and stolen the surname of the handsome man who’d once offered it to her – she rather liked the idea of stealing someone’s name because of a rashly made promise.

As she’d expected, it made it easier to pretend she was a widow rather than a silly girl who’d been deceived; an irritating pretense, but a necessary one, in this ridiculous world of men.

And so her A-Ying became Wei Wuxian.

She traveled around, aimless, knowing there was something out there for her to do but not entirely sure what, and it gnawed at her right up until the day her little Wei Wuxian ran over to her, shouting, “A-niang! A-niang! I found a brother!”

She’d assumed he was joking – he often tried to play tricks on her, and she played tricks on him right back – but in fact he wasn’t: little Meng Yao, a few years older than her son, had just enough of the same features to make the blood connection obvious.

Cangse Sanren sighed for the stupidity of her past self – so many good suitors, and she’d just had to pick the worst of the lot, hadn’t she? – and crouched down with a smile.

“Where do you live?” she asked. “Where’s your mother?”

Meng Yao refused to tell her at first, no matter how many sweets and toys she plied him with. She didn’t want to embarrass him by following him home, so she rented a small house and waited; in the end, Wei Wuxian tried to beat up a passing boy for calling Meng Yao the son of a whore and Meng Yao had only been able to stop him by confessing that it was true.

“Well, that won’t do,” Cangse Sanren said, feeling rather cross about the whole thing. “Come on, lead me to her, or else I’ll go around knocking at every brothel in town asking for a girl surnamed ‘Meng’.”

Meng Shi was pretty as a peony and graceful as an orchid, and upon meeting her for the first time Cangse Sanren, who was quite used to beauties, blurted out, “He’s not only a dog but a fool.”

Sadly, Meng Shi preferred men, disappointing previous experiences or no, but she was nevertheless amenable to Cangse Sanren’s proposal of living together – night-hunting being more than profitable enough to buy Meng Shi’s life contract from the brothel within a few months – if it meant that Meng Yao would have the chance to learn to cultivate at the foot of a proper master.

In that way, Cangse Sanren got herself a friend and Wei Wuxian a brother, and felt quite pleased with it.

“We don’t need him,” she declared, full of wine and good company, arm around Meng Shi’s shoulders as the other woman rolled her eyes at her. “A-Yao, forget everything you’ve ever heard about him – he’s a waste of space, a wretch, a dog! Like a purebred horse, he’s fit only for breeding, which means your mother and I got the best part of him already.”

Meng Yao covered his eyes and groaned dramatically, and then went back to arguing with Wei Wuxian as to which one of them deserved to be called gege; Meng Yao took the position that he was older, with Wei Wuxian arguing that he’d become a disciple first.

Not that two small children who were also brothers made for much of a sect.

The thought caught something in Cangse Sanren’s brain, and the next morning she grinned at Meng Shi and said, full of mischief, “I wonder how many others there are out there.”

“No,” Meng Shi said firmly. “Night-hunting alone is dangerous enough, and barely enough to pay for our expenses –”

“It’d stretch a bit further if Mistress Meng were a little less accustomed to silk!”

“– and anyway who even knows how many there might be?”

“There can’t be that many,” Cangse Sanren said. “For all that he’s a scum, he’s also lazy – look at both our boys trying to get up in the morning –”

“Your boy can’t get up in the morning,” Meng Shi said. “Mine likes to have some time to himself. There’s a difference. Also, you can’t blame everything you dislike on him when it’s obviously a trait inherited from you.”

“Can’t I? I think I can. Anyway, as I was saying, he’s lazy: he stayed with me nearly two years and would have stayed longer if I hadn’t cottoned onto him, and you nearly four; and of course he doesn’t have any at home for fear of his wife…no, I’m telling you, a dozen at most.”

“You’re only counting the women he supported,” Meng Shi pointed out. “What about the ones that only happened once, or the married wives?”

Cangse Sanren dismissed these issues with a wave of her hand. “Let’s start with the ones like us. There’s got to be some other young would-be cultivators out there.”

There were, although little Mo Xuanyu, their next find, had been so terrified and tormented by all his relatives until he’d had the personality of a bowl of quivering steamed pudding – he wouldn’t make for much of a cultivator, Cangse Sanren divined at once, but even Meng Shi had to admit that taking him with them was better than leaving him back in the Mo household.

His own mother had sold him to them for a gold coin, calling him a disappointment as she did, and Cangse Sanren had muttered for the next shichen about some people deserving the scum they hooked up with until Meng Shi started making sad noises just to make her shut up.

Damn that woman was good.

The next few they found were quite happy at home – it seemed that Jin Guangshan threw girls more often than boys, and that girls were able to live quite well on the promise of their children having a cultivator grandfather, so they didn’t need much help – and Cangse Sanren had just given up on bothering to find any more, three children with three very different personalities being rather a lot to deal with on top of night-hunting and keeping Meng Shi in her silks, when the Jiang sect finally caught up with her.

Apparently they’d been looking. Who’d have guessed?

“You had that and turned it down?!” Meng Shi hissed, her eyes full of the (admittedly rather handsome) Jiang Sect leader. “What is wrong with you?”

“Many things, probably,” Cangse Sanren admitted, and under the circumstances let herself be seduced back to Yunmeng with the promise of free housing, childcare, and all expenses paid, plus Wei Wuxian screaming “Shijie! Jiang Cheng!” at the top of his lungs at the first sight of a lotus flower sigil.

They’d stayed first at the Lotus Pier, but in the end got their own house: they’d gotten used to it the past few years, and anyway living with a friend was better than living with a lover - fighting over mundane things like laundry and did-you-remember-to-dust-behind-the-shelf was a lot easier when you didn’t have to think about being sexy at some future date.

Meng Shi never did get the hang of having a real job, teaching music and flirting to all the local children in equal measure, and perhaps most importantly she watched the children whenever Cangse Sanren went out night-hunting along with the Jiangs – along with the other things she did with the two of them while they were temporarily unburdened by the presence of nearly a dozen small, prying eyes.

At first Cangse Sanren was concerned about a repeat of last time, but it turned out Meng Shi was good for that, too; Madame Yu wasn’t as bothered about her husband sharing a bed with the witty, charming, pretty-as-a-flower Meng Shi when it meant she got to have Cangse Sanren to herself in her own.

As life went, it was pretty good, Cangse Sanren was willing to admit, especially when the discussion conference came around and she was finally able to rid Meng Shi of her remaining illusions. It was a good life, a happy life, and it was something she’d forged with her own two hands; she was very pleased about it.

Meng Yao never quite stopped wearing a smiling face that hid daggers, but it was a little easier to forgive his vindictive viciousness once he’d started doing it to defend his younger brothers as well as himself – it was good for him to spend time with Jiang Yanli, whose friendliness and innate goodness routinely caused him to question everything he thought he knew about human nature.

They played a great deal of chess, which Jiang Yanli routinely lost with a smile, and in return he reminded her that she was still at the age to be adopted, not do the adopting herself – which she sometimes forgot.

Wei Wuxian finally agreed to Meng Yao’s seniority now that he had both Mo Xuanyu and Jiang Cheng to bully and lead around by the nose; he remained as high-spirited and vivacious as he’d ever been, but – and it was probably for the best – his reckless arrogance was tempered by constantly being outsmarted in the first instance by a well-prepared Meng Yao.

Mo Xuanyu, the family baby, spent a great deal of time clinging to Jiang Cheng; no one entirely understood why or how their quiet, shy wallflower had gotten attached to someone so abrasive and easily angered, but somehow Jiang Cheng routinely cursing him as an idiot and a useless good-for-nothing did more to wash away the scars left over from the Mo household than anything else anyone had ever done.

It was – good.

So when the Wens came to tear it all down, well.

None of them were going to put up with that.

#mdzs #cangse sanren #wei wuxian #meng shi #meng yao #mo xuanyu #jiang fengmian #yu ziyuan #jiang cheng #jiang yanli #my fic #my fics #it'd be boring if everything stayed the same but for his parentage #so I went wildly AU #and I rather like it #Anonymous

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weasleyswizardpleases · 3 years

Text

Playing Nurse (2/4)

Summary: Fred Weasley keeps showing up in Hogwarts’ infirmary, where you’re an apprentice, but he quickly becomes more than just a patient to you.

Warnings/notes: Blood, dental injury, bruising, broken bones. Language, kissing, some nudity, coming out. Not super graphic but it takes place in the school infirmary so people’s injuries and illnesses are described. Trans masc!Fred x fem!reader.

Read part one here

Tagging @lucymfer as requested!

2. Bedside manner

The next day is a busy one, with a pretty serious collision on the quidditch field commanding you and Madam Pomfrey’s attention for the whole of the afternoon. Cho Chang and Oliver Wood come in with pretty bad injuries, accompanied by nearly the entirety of both teams. Cho half-fell from her broom when Oliver ran into her in the fog, causing her to slam into the stands as she tried to regain her mount. Her wrist hangs limply at her side, and you correctly diagnose it as a severe fracture. Madame Pomfrey agrees and directs you to care for Wood while she attends to Cho’s arm.

You take Oliver over to a free bed, but you’re practically tripping over his teammates as you try to get him bandaged up.

“Alright, some of you are going to have to get out of my way. Oliver, pick one to stay, the rest of you can wait outside,” you say, but Oliver has fainted when you turn to look at him.

“Faints at the sight of blood,” says George in explanation. “Freddie, you stay, we’ll be off now!” he says, ushering the others out the door and leaving Fred blinking at you. You waste no time reviving Oliver and cleaning up his wound while he looks away, his jaw clenched. He’s really just got a bad scrape, but it’s oozing quite a bit of blood because of where it is, so you elect to bind it in addition to a healing spell, to soak up any blood from the remaining wound.

Wood is in quite a state, embarrassed but obviously quite nervous. You offer him a slight sedative, and he gladly accepts, falling asleep almost immediately. You’re left alone in the little curtained off treatment area with Fred on one side of the bed and you on the other.

“Told you I’d be back,” he says with a little smile.

“Didn’t expect it’d be so soon,” you admit, fidgeting with some bottles on the bedside table under the pretense of tidying up. There’s a small silence and eventually your hands fall still. You’re keenly aware of Fred’s eyes on you, and you look up to meet them.

“Well,” he says after a moment. “Will Cho be alright?”

“Oh, yes, I imagine so. She’ll be back on her broom before the end of the season, though maybe in a cast for a few days. Madame Pomfrey will be able to give her something to accelerate her healing, if it’s the type of fracture I think it is.”

“Oh. That’s good,” he says, and you fall into silence again for a long moment. “It’s very interesting,” he says, breaking the silence again.

“What is?”

“All of this,” he gestures broadly. “It’s very cool how you know so much about it. I mean, you’re practically the only one at Hogwarts who has a job, not to mention such an important one.”

“Oh, that’s not true. Plenty of people study under a professor and help with research and things,” you wave him off, suddenly feeling shy.

“You’re quite bright, is all I’m saying,” he insists, looking away with a smile. You just laugh and change the subject.

“Gryffindor was a-shooing for the win before this whole kerfuffle. Shame, really,” you offer.

“Yeah, good thing too. Oliver’s bound to be pretty riled up to, trying to make up for embarrassing himself like this. Not that he could help the fog, but he’s an absolute nut, he’ll be making us all run agility drills for weeks if I know him,” he says, exasperated.

“Nothing you lot can’t handle, I’m sure,” you say. “You were doing stellar before the fog rolled in. Will you look after him while I go give your teammates an update?” you ask. Fred nods, his shaggy ginger hair bobbing prettily.

“Don’t be gone long,” he says. You duck out of the little cubicle smiling to yourself.

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suddencolds · 3 years

Text

Pretense | Genshin Impact | 2/2

Part 2 of my Gen/shin Imp/act fic w Childe/Zhongli, ft. a cold, a meeting Childe doesn’t want to cancel, and dinner with Zhongli. (Here’s part 1!)

—

Zhongli stands. “Childe,” he says earnestly. “I was beginning to worry that something had happened.”

“Trouble at work,” Childe says dismissively. “It wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle, that’s for sure.” It’s not the full truth, but how can he tell Zhongli that he’s only late because his cold is taking its toll on his usual brutal efficiency? He’s sure that, in conjunction with his lateness, it would only sound like an excuse. “I’m sorry to make you wait.”

“There is no need to apologize,” Zhongli says, unperturbed as ever. “You are worth waiting for.”

Childe grins at him, a little shakily. “Still, it’s cold out. Had I been closer to town, I would’ve sent someone to tell you about the delay. “I didn’t think you would still be here.”

“You are the one who suggested for us to meet here,” Zhongli counters. “It was only natural for me to uphold the agreement until you arrived.”

Childe wonders if he’s like this with everyone—loyal and almost infuriatingly genuine. Surely Zhongli has run into his fair share of people who don’t keep their promises—Childe wonders, not for the first time, if there’s any limit to his seemingly limitless patience.

“Is everything resolved now?” Zhongli asks.

“Yeah. I just ran into some difficulty with recruits. You know how it is,” Childe says. “Business as usual, yet the newcomers can be… difficult to cater to.” He conveniently leaves out the fact that he’s usually the one pushing himself past his limits to impress them—that’s not something Zhongli needs to know. “I had a couple good spars with them, though!” He makes a show out of stretching, stifling a yawn. “If I’m more tired than usual, that’s probably why.”

Zhongli only nods. “If you are tired, we can postpone our walk, and end our meeting early so that you can be properly rested when—”

“No,” Childe says, maybe too quickly. “No, no, it’s okay. You waited all this time for me, and… I’m excited for tonight.” That’s not a lie. He feels better standing next to Zhongli already—something about being in his presence makes him feel strangely comforted.

There’s also the irrelevant, lesser-known fact that Childe hates being alone when he’s ill. But that’s not something he intends to share, either.

“So…” he sniffles as discretely as possible. “...dinner?”

Zhongli smiles to him. “I am looking forward to it.”

They fall easily into step, shoulder to shoulder. Liyue is busy as always, and one of the merchants—carrying something or other, not looking where they’re going—bumps into him, sending him closer to Zhongli. It’s only a moment of contact, but Zhongli is… warm. Childe pulls away quickly so that Zhongli doesn’t feel him shiver.

As always, Zhongli talks, and Childe finds himself more than content to listen. For once, he’s glad that the market is so loud—it makes it so that when he sniffles or clears his throat, it’s not very noticeable.

Halfway through the walk, though, a familiar, sharp prickle settles back in his nose. Zhongli is still talking, so Childe turns away slightly, his breath wavering.

“... hH!”

“The jade plaques are hand-carved, so they are all unique,” Zhongli is saying, oblivious, as they pass a stall that sells jade pendants. “As jade goes, it is priced for its translucency and the evenness in its coloration, though true jade always has imperfections.”

Childe pinches the bridge of his nose in a desperate attempt to stave off the growing urge to sneeze. “A double edged… hH! S-sword,” he comments. “I imagine that if they’re too clear, there’s a chance they… Hiih! … might be counterfeits.”

Zhongli nods sagely. “That’s right. Jade plaques like this are especially valuable, given their history, which makes them a popular relic for dishonest merchants to emulate. It is said that they were originally made to honor Rex Lapis, Lord of Geo, back before his form was—”

Childe jerks away, cupping his hand over his face as a sneeze snaps him forward.

“HiiHH’ISCHHEW!”

The sneeze echoes in his cupped hands, barely muffled, and still… loud. He flushes, embarrassed, as he lowers his hands slowly from his face.

“Bless you,” Zhongli says.

Faintly, Childe realizes that Zhongli is looking at him. Childe refuses to meet his eyes. He’s sure that if he makes eye contact now, Zhongli will be able to see straight through him.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Childe says, sniffling again.

Zhongli is quiet for a moment, observing him with his usual scrutiny. Childe wonders if his hesitance is out of disgust.

“Are you alright?” he says finally.

Childe nods. “I’m fine! Must be that…” he looks around. They’re next to one of the food stands that's heavy on its spices, which he assumes is as good of an excuse as any. “...one of the spices here… hhIH… hIHh’NDGt!” He almost winces, turning away to sniffle with one knuckle pressed to his face. “...doesn’t agree with me, ahaha. Nothing to worry about! Uh, you were talking about the Lord of Geo’s forms?”

“Ah. Yes,” Zhongli says. He launches into the history of jade plaques and Rex Lapis’s many forms, and somewhere along the way, Childe forgets what he’s worried about.

The sun’s going down, and uncharacteristically the cool air is making him shiver. He crosses his arms mid-walk in a mostly-futile effort to conserve warmth, but it doesn’t do much. In between his frequent interjections, his voice is starting to sound worse, too—he supposes he’s overused it in talking to the recruits; it’s lucky that Zhongli is content to do most of the talking.

When they get to Wanmin, Zhongli leads him to one of the tables outside.

“Wanmin is well-known for its variety,” Zhongli says. “While it offers Li style and Yue style food, you will find that Chef Mao also fulfills even the most specific of customer requests.”

“Specific customer requests, huh,” Childe says. “Does that mean you’ve ordered something off the menu here, xiansheng?”

Zhongli smiles. “I have ordered everything except for the seafood dishes.”

“I forgot about your aversion to seafood,” Childe admits, laughing. “You will have to tell me the story behind it someday. Besides that, what do you suggest?”

“I think I have something in mind,” Zhongli says untellingly, looking contemplative. “First, sit down.”

Childe obliges. Sitting down is a relief—as much as he would never admit it, their short walk has left him exhausted. He resists the urge to slump forward on the seat. Worse, the persistent itch in his nose from earlier is back.

“Stay here. I will order for you,” Zhongli says, laying a hand on his arm, and Childe—

Childe actually shivers, which is embarrassing, to say the least. Luckily, Zhongli doesn’t seem to notice. “Don’t forget about the mora,” he says, and fishes for a pouch of coins from his pocket. “Here. I’m sure Chef Mao has dealt with his fair share of your forgetfulness.”

Zhongli smiles sheepishly, which is probably more endearing than it has any right to be. “Thank you, Childe. I will be back in a minute.”

As soon as he disappears around the corner to talk to Chef Mao, Childe exhales, lifting a hand to rub his nose. It’s a bad idea. Suddenly the tickle from before is back, and he’s snapping forward with barely any warning, his eyes squeezing shut.

“hHIH’NGDt! hH!..HIHh’GKtt! hhH....”

Stifling isn’t very relieving at all. If anything, it seems to make him more congested. He casts a quick, desperate glance towards the restaurant. It’s still loud outside, the marketplace as raucous at night as it is at day. Surely Zhongli won’t notice if he—

“hIIH…. hIIH’ISChH-u!” Well, it’s not like he has much control over it now. “hHh... hiIH’IZCHhew!” He gasps again, ducking lower to muffle the sneeze in the crook of his arm. “hIIh’IISCHEEW!”

They’re forceful in a way that suggests that this is going to be a really awful cold, but it’s relieving to succumb to the urge at last. He sighs, sniffling hard, and lowers his arm. Zhongli is still ordering, it seems. Childe is suddenly grateful that he’d chosen this moment to step away.

His eyes are watering a little, so he blinks quickly. Finally, Zhongli comes back to sit down across from him.

“That was fast,” Childe says, wincing a little at how congested his voice sounds. “I hope you gave him a tip?”

"Of course," Zhongli says, sliding back the pouch of mora.

They fall back into conversation easily enough after that. It’s only when Zhongli goes quiet that Childe snaps out of his reverie.

“You have been quiet,” Zhongli remarks. “Is something on your mind?”

Childe blinks at him. “Ah. Sorry,” he says, muffling a cough. “I’m still listening. I can talk more if you want me to.”

“No,” Zhongli says. “There’s no need. I was only wondering if it would be better if I refrained from speaking so much.”

Childe frowns. Zhongli has the wrong idea—Childe likes listening to him—but he can’t help but wonder if he’s worse company than usual. “I like listening to you,” Childe insists. “If… it’s okay. I just… I’ve talked a lot today, so...” He looks away, feeling his face grow hot at the admission. “I think I’m, uh, losing my voice, or something.”

Zhongli frowns at him. “Will you have recruits to train tomorrow?”

He tries to recall his schedule for the week. “Don’t think so. Tomorrow’s errands will… hiH!...’NGDshH! be more straightforward. I—” he coughs again. “I hope.”

“That is a relief,” Zhongli says. “Regardless, you should save your voice. Your assurance that you are still interested is enough.”

I’m always interested, Childe thinks, as Zhongli launches back into another story about Liyuen history. His voice is smooth and low and, in every capacity, as comforting as always. Childe falls into it entirely.

It’s only when the food arrives that he finds himself staring down at a bowl of still-steaming soup.

It’s not something he’s had before. He takes an experimental sip. The warmth is immediately comforting; it's exactly the sort of warmth he's been craving all day. He doesn’t have much of an appetite, and he can barely taste it through his congestion, but what he can discern of the flavor is...

“This is delicious, xiansheng,” he says, letting his eyes fall shut in his indulgence. “What is it?”

“Bamboo shoot soup,” Zhongli answers simply. “It should be a good remedy for your cold.”

Childe nearly drops his spoon.

He blinks, surprised. “What?”

Zhongli stares back at him, his eyebrows furrowed. “Your cold,” he repeats. “You have been showing symptoms of it all evening. It is not unlikely that you have a fever as well, if the way you have been shivering is any indication. Were you not aware that you were ill?”

Childe buries his face in one hand. “I knew! Just... was it so obvious?”

“Did you intend to keep it a secret?”

“Not exactly, but…” he sighs. “I didn’t want to cancel our plans over something so trivial. You had already waited so long for me, so it wouldn’t have been fair if I’d just… used it as an excuse to - hIHh!”

Childe feels his breath wavering. He shuts his eyes in desperation, ducking away from the table. This is really the worst timing.

“hIihh… hIIH’NDGxt! snf… s-sorry, I... hIIH’ISSHHEEw!”

He flushes as another shiver racks his frame. It’s… embarrassing, to say the least, to sneeze so openly right in front of someone he admires.

“Bless you,” Zhongli says. When Childe looks up at him, he looks sad, his shoulders hunching as he stares down at his own food. “Childe, are you only here because you felt obligated to uphold your end of an agreement?” His voice is soft, as always. He doesn’t sound accusatory—only uncertain, but somehow, that makes it worse. “I would not have thought any less of you if you had been honest with me.”

“That’s not it,” Childe says, and fuck, he wants to say anything just to get that hurt expression off of Zhongli’s face. “I came because I wanted to see you.” He blinks past sudden exhaustion. Suddenly his breath catches wrong and he’s coughing harshly, hurrying to press his forearm to his face as his shoulders shudder with the effort.

“I… realize I might not be great company right now, though,” he admits, wincing. His voice is really shot.

Maybe it would have been better had he been less selfish. Maybe he should have cancelled their meeting the moment he’d started feeling bad. Or maybe he should get rid of his strange over-reliance on the funeral consultant in the first place.

Zhongli reaches for his hand. Childe wants to pull it away, on instinct, but Zhongli’s grasp is firm and strangely, hopelessly grounding.

“You are always good company,” Zhongli says sternly, with as much conviction as he has when he recites history or recalls fact. “If you wanted to see me, you could have just asked. For you, I would have said yes.”

“You indulge me,” Childe accuses him, sniffling. Zhongli smiles, as if he’s taken it as a compliment.

“Perhaps. Will you let me walk you back home after we finish our meal?”

Childe wants to protest. They had a walk planned, after all, but he’s exhausted, and the trip back to the inn he’s staying in suddenly seems much less arduous when he considers he could be walking back with Zhongli.

“Zhongli, you are proving my point,” he says, cracking a smile. “...If you don’t mind, though, I would love that.”

He’s really going to miss Liyue when he leaves.

#sneeze fic #snzfic #sneeze kink #gen/shin impact #this was hard to write #;;#i am at the edge of my wits writing childe's internal monologue #i'm very soft for these two so i can only hope i didn't #fk up their characterization or anything #my fic

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jeonsjiddies · 4 years

Text

how not to | kth

Summary- Taehyung takes Tannie to the vet and develops a crush on the vet, and proceeds to tell a few white lies to see her again word count- 1.6k pairing- taehyung x reader genre- fluff Warnings- none? a/n: loosely based on How Not To by Dan + Shay, for my beautiful @sugarly-laysa ; another one in third person, idk lol

The first time Taehyung saw her, he almost dropped Yeontan, who was the whole reason he’d walked into the vet in the first place. Yeontan had been lying around Taehyung’s apartment, just whining pathetically and refusing to eat or drink. Taehyung had panicked and scooped the small dog into his arms, dashing towards the closest vet. He threw the doors open and anxiously talked to the receptionist, while gingerly stroking Yeontan’s fur to soothe his beloved dog-son.

“Don’t worry Mr. Kim, the doctor will be right out.” the woman smiled reassuringly but Taehyung couldn’t stop pacing around the small lobby.

Then, she walked out of the swinging doors and time stopped. Taehyung swore that the colors around the room dulled in comparison to the way she shined. Light seemed to follow her, like she was an angel and the air around her was her halo. Yeontan wiggled in Taehyung’s loose grip, snapping him back to reality. He tightened his arms around the pup and walked up to the doctor.

“Hello, Mr. Kim! My name is Y/N. Please follow me and I’ll take a look at Yeontan here.” she flashed him the most enchanting smile he’d ever seen.

Momentarily speechless, Taehyung just nodded and quietly followed the unfairly gorgeous veterinarian to an examination room and placed Yeontan on the table, stroking his fur to relax him.

“So, Mr. Kim, what seems to be the problem?” Y/N asked, putting gloves on and gently patting Yeontan’s head.

“He won’t eat or drink and he’s acting very lethargic.” Taehyung explained, “I’m very worried. Tannie’s usually full of energy and always ready for a snack.”

She nodded, furrowing her eyebrows together and gently pushed on Yeontan’s stomach, feeling around for abnormalities. Yeontan let out small whimpers, but didn’t yelp or snip at her. He was the perfect gentleman and Taehyung was a little proud of that. Y/N looked over Yeontan for a bit, doing a few tests and looking in his mouth, checking his temperature, making sure she didn’t miss anything that could be troubling the poor little guy.

“I’d say he ate something he shouldn’t have. I’ll prescribe him some mild pain relief and you can just keep a good eye on him, and come back if anything gets worse, okay?” Y/N instructed him, and Taehyung nodded obediently, his eyes glued to her every movement.

He just couldn’t find it in himself to look away. She handed him the script and pet Yeontan one more time, leaning down to speak to him specifically.

“I hope you feel better, buddy.” she cooed sympathetically.

Yeontan, though he still looked rough, gave her a couple of kisses and leaned into her touch, which she smiled at before scratching behind his ears then standing up.

“Thank you so much, Y/N . Really.” Taehyung bowed a bit, looking up at her and when her eyes met his, he felt shivers run up his spine, which only intensified when she placed a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s my pleasure, Mr. Kim.” she smiled.

“Taehyung. Or Tae. Please.” he returned her smile.

“Tae.” she corrected, his name rolling off her lips like dripping honey.

Instead of responding, Tae sent her another smile before exiting. His heart was thrumming in his chest as he carried Yeontan back to his car, immediately going to fill the prescription for him to clear up his tummy issues as soon as possible.

A week and a half later, Yeontan was back to normal, but Taehyung was not. He could not get Y/N out of his head, every time he closed his eyes he could see the way her eyes sparkled, the way her lips curled up in that sweet smile… he didn’t know how not to think about her. He needed to see her again.

Biting his lip, he glanced at Yeontan and debated his plan. It wasn’t exactly ethical to lie and say that something was wrong with Yeontan when he was fine, but he had no other method of seeing Y/N, seeing as how his social media stalking had come up empty handed. Taehyung scooped Yeontan up in his arms and brought him up to his face.

“Listen buddy. I know you’ve faked sick before so I would stay home… think you can do it again so we can visit that pretty doctor?” Taehyung grinned, “I’ll give you a treat!”

Yeontan wagged his tail and barked excitedly upon hearing one of his favorite words, and Taehyung took that as an agreement and set off for the vet. Entering the building, he felt nervous. He hoped she wouldn’t notice his true intentions for coming in and embarrass him.

“Hello, Mr. Kim.” the receptionist greeted, “Back again?”

“Yes, Tannie seems to not be feeling well again…” he trailed off, avoiding eye contact.

Yeontan, on queue, let out a pitiful whimper.

“I’ve got you checked in, Y/N will be right out to get you.” the receptionist smiled sympathetically.

Taehyung stroked Tannie’s fur in a silent thank you as he waited for the beautiful doctor, and when she finally stepped out, Taehyung felt the air leave his lungs. She was just as beautiful as he remembered. Maybe more.

“Hello Tae, Tannie. Come on back.” she smiled.

Taehyung followed her and set Yeontan on the exam table, shooting the Pomeranian a look, and mouthing “treat” which caused Yeontan to let out another pathetic whimper. Y/N’s gaze snapped to the small dog and she cooed softly in sympathy, doing another checkup. Several minutes went by and Taehyung was getting more nervous, pulling on the collar of his shirt and working up a light sweat.

“I can’t see anything wrong with him… when did this start?” Y/N asked.

“Last night.” Taehyung lied.

“Hm… let me do a few more tests but I think he might just have another tummy ache. He should be fine.” Y/N smiled encouragingly.

Taehyung nodded, watching as she worked on Yeontan, who was an amazingly good sport. He was getting so many treats. Soon, they were on their way, bidding the doctor a goodbye and going home, where Taehyung rewarded Yeontan with treats and bites from his own dinner.

Two months later, Taehyung was embarrassed to admit he still brought Yeontan in under false pretenses sometimes. He didn’t do it often, less than a handful of times really, but he still felt awful that he couldn’t just gain the courage to ask Y/N out. She was just so beautiful he couldn’t find it in himself to put himself out there.

He walked into the vet's office, and the receptionist wasn’t stationed at her desk. Taehyung frowned in confusion, looking around. He waited a few minutes then decided to go searching for someone. He quietly turned the corner to the examination room, and heard voices coming from it. He peered in without being seen, and he saw Y/N facing someone with a light blush gracing her cheeks.

“I wonder if he’ll show up this week…” Y/N giggled.

“Who?” he heard the voice of the receptionist ask.

“The hot guy with the Pomeranian who comes in like every other week, Taehyung. I haven’t seen him in a few days and I think I’m going through withdrawals.” Y/N joked, placing her arm across her forehead dramatically.

“Oh right!” the receptionist laughed.

“The things I would do to that man…” Y/N trailed off with a smirk.

The receptionist seemed to choke on something while she laughed and Taehyung felt his chest swell up with pride. She liked him. She liked him! He tried to sneak away unheard but Yeontan decided it was the perfect opportunity to start disobeying his dad, and he let out an excited bark and jumped from Taehyung’s arms, running up to Y/N and wagging his tail, jumping up on her legs to beg for pets.

Y/N’s eyes grew wide as she stared at Taehyung, who stood sheepishly in the doorway after being caught eavesdropping. Both their faces were bright red with embarrassment and the receptionist took the opportunity to slip away unnoticed, while Y/N picked Tannie up and began stroking his fur, avoiding eye contact with Taehyung.

“I, uh… am sorry if you heard anything um… unprofessional…” she coughed.

“Sorry I kind of creeped on your conversation. I waited in the lobby but when no one came I got concerned.” Taehyung explained, then his demeanor changed, taking on a playful one as a smirk graced his lips. “Hot guy with the Pomeranian, huh?”

“Oh god you heard that.” she whined, using her free hand to cover her face.

Taehyung let out a chuckle, stepping closer to her. Her eyes shot up to meet his, and he smiled, biting his lower lip in nervousness.

“I’ll take it as a compliment… if you agree to have dinner with me tonight. Say 6? After you close.” he spoke, his voice coming out more even and sure than he thought it would.

“I’d like that.” she smiled up at him, “But does that mean you’re going to stop pretending Yeontan is sick?”

“You knew?!” Taehyung gasped.

“Tae… Tannie is a great actor, but you’re a terrible liar.” she giggled.

Taehyung hid his face in his hands and laughed, the tips of his ears turning pink.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he asked.

“I didn’t want you to stop coming.” she shrugged.

Taehyung smiled at that, and the doorbell chimed, signaling a new customer, so Taehyung decided it was time for him to leave. He took Yeontan from her arms and placed a chaste kiss to her cheek. Her eyes widened but she smiled at him.

“See you tonight?” she asked.

“See you tonight. Maybe we can talk about all those things you’d do to me…” he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, a playful smirk on his lips.

“Oh god. Get out.” Y/N laughed, shoving his back to propel him forward.

Taehyung laughed, letting her push him out into the lobby, and spent the remainder of the day thinking about all the possibilities that awaited the two of them. As usual, he couldn’t stop thinking about the beautiful doctor with the heart of gold, he just didn’t know how not to.

#kim taehyung #taehyung #v #bts v #bts #bts fluff #v fluff #taehyung fluff #kim taehyung fluff #tae fluff #yeontan #tannie

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jamespotterthefirst · 4 years

Text

Enchant Me

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende) Word count: 2.5K (sorry!) Warning: None Author’s Note: AU where Ethan is the one asking MC questions for the fMRI scan (book 1, ch 6).

Catch up here.

_____________

Green eyes meet his briefly before hurriedly glancing away, the movement so fleeting that he could have attributed it to his imagination. Except, the way his stomach flutters as a result is very real and very annoying to Ethan. When at last he forces his treasonous mind to the task at hand, he determines she is nervous, the tense energy radiating from her almost palpable in the bright imaging lab.

Guilt takes root in his stomach as he begins to regret asking this of her. The flimsy request for her help, blurted out after he reluctantly turned down her party invitation, seems downright embarrassing now. What the hell had he been thinking?

He pauses to consider that therein lies the problem: He hadn't been thinking. What a dangerous and inane side effect of being in her presence. What a humbling yet disconcerting notion that all it takes to disarm an intelligent, highly educated man is a pair of clever, emerald eyes, a lovely dusting of freckles, and a pretty smile.

Ethan opens his mouth to offer himself up as the subject instead, but Lilac gives him a brave, determined half smile. Her cheeks flush and he can see the visible effort she spends in getting the words out. “There is no dignified way of saying this, so please don't fire me,” she begins, not looking at him.

“I won't fire you for changing your mind, Rookie.”

Lilac shakes her head. “It's not that. It's just that I'll need an injection of the magnetic contrast media…” Her eyes swivel to meet his pointedly, as though expecting him to catch her meaning from it.

Ethan is not following and that much must be evident in his face because she sighs.

“I can't have any metal on me,” she continues, face growing bright pink to the root of her dark hair. “So I'll have to remove my bra.”

Silence.

“I… Erm... That's…” Ethan's ears flare with heat, his throat feeling suddenly dry. “That's true. I'll leave the room.”

“No need,” she assures him, already peeling off her coat. Before Ethan can even react, she reaches behind her back and under her blouse.

He is momentarily frozen, eyes watching her expertly work the clasps, before hastily turning his back on her and busying himself with the gadolinium. The way his heart clamors wildly at his ears is guarantee enough of the sinful thoughts his mind will torture him with later, thoughts of Lilac undressing in many different ways for him.

Get it together, Ramsey.

“I'm ready,” she announces to his sheer relief.

That relief is short-lived, however, when his eyes catch a glimpse of the lacy, bright red garment on the floor, unsuccessfully concealed by her discarded lab coat. Every inch of his traitorous body reacts on sight, reducing him to just another weak-willed man, uninhibited by the mere sight of a bra.

Lilac, meanwhile, watches him from where she lays on the table, decent enough in her loose fitting blouse. That lopsided smirk of hers makes a reappearance and it only makes his thoughts sputter further.

“Stay still,” he manages to instruct, his voice quiet and gentle.

When his fingers palpate the veins in her arms, Ethan struggles to think of much else but the feel of her soft skin against his, incinerating his fingertips. He makes the mistake of meeting her eyes, finding that all traces of humor are long gone as she watches him, lips slightly parted. A white hot current of tension crackles between them, dangerous and capable of consuming him whole. With a surge of recklessness, he finds that he wants it to. The blazing look she fixes him with makes Ethan wonder if she wants it too.

Swallowing hard, Ethan forces himself to glance away.

After a brief pause, she teases, “You do know how to perform an intravenous injection, don't you?”

“Ha. Ha,” he returns sarcastically. Her own genuine laughter rings around the imaging lab.

Ethan injects her with ease and presses the button to slide the table inside the magnet enclosure, hiding that infuriatingly distracting smile from view. Soon after, he sits at the workstation, checking on Lilac through the glass and powering up the magnet.

“How's it looking up there, Doc?”

“Like a brain,” he says dryly.

“So...average?”

“Very average.”

“Ouch.”

Ethan allows a resigned grin, shaking his head and feeling a wide lightness spread in his chest. Silence ensues after their banter and he realizes she waits for his question.

A thrill shoots through his core at the ocean of possibilities before him. At last, he can catch a true glimpse of the mystery she has proven to be. Isn't that what he longs to know the most ? Isn't the enigma that is Lilac Allende the true allure for him? Isn't that the reason he can't stop thinking about her?

He can ask anything, and finally know the answer.

“Do you prefer cats or dogs?”

There is an anticlimactic pause and Ethan wants to slam his head against the console.

Really, Ethan? Cats or dogs?

Lilac is silent, so silent Ethan wonders if the speaker system is working.

“That's the type of question you have for me?”

Ethan rolls his eyes. “Just answer it, Rookie.”

The image shows activity in the temporal lobe at the use of the nickname.

“I like them both,” she answers before Ethan can interpret the previous reading. “Though dogs tend to love me almost instantly.”

An uninvited mental image of Jenner, paws on her chest, tail wagging at blurring speed upon meeting her, crosses his mind. Ethan dismisses it as an impossibility, unable to think of a scenario where both creatures would meet.

“We have a family dog back in LA named Lobo,” she continues.

“Wolf?”

“The third,” she adds cheerfully. “My parents name all of our dogs Lobo or Oso.”

The memory elicits notable activity in the hippocampus. Ethan is unable to see her face but he finds the reminiscent lull of her voice utterly endearing. Catching his own reaction with a flare of annoyance, he dismisses it, clears his throat, and moves on to the next question.

“What inspired you to become a doctor?”

The longest pause yet befalls them. Already there is activity in the right temporal cortex, peaking his own curiosity. Every second that she doesn't answer is agony.

Finally, she says, “Pass.”

“Excuse me?”

“I pass on this question. I plead the fifth.”

“Overruled.”

“You can't do that,” she protests, though he can hear the laughter in her voice.

“Just answer the question, Rookie.”

There is a loaded, tense silence that slowly tapers to a boiling point, then—

“You.”

Ethan blinks, speechless.

“Don't you remember?” she says, an edge of embarrassment dripping from her voice. “You signed Landry's book for me.”

“Who?” he blurts out. Not waiting for an answer, he asks, “Wait, so you didn't keep that book, Rookie? I am offended.”

“No, my copy is much more worn, annotated, and well-loved,” she explains with a chuckle.

A small whirlwind of emotions takes root in Ethan, who is still at a loss for words.

“In a literal sense, your research inspired me to go to med school,” she continues, interpreting his silence as encouragement to go on. “I read your book from cover to cover as an undergrad and was so inspired, for once in my life I knew where I had to go. I wanted to be here, at Edenbrook, working alongside the best.”

Ethan's throat is tight as he listens, the activity in the scan completely forgotten.

“The more sentimental reason I was inspired to be a doctor is, of course, my parents.” Lilac pauses and clears her throat as a pretense. “They– They came to this country in pursuit of a better life, leaving their family and everyone they loved behind. All to be in a brand new place, not knowing the language or the culture, often taking up backbreaking jobs for miserable pay...to be looked down by many as inferior. All that sacrifice, for us.” Her voice cracks at the last few words. It takes her a moment to recover. “That sacrifice drove me through my worst days in medical school. It's what drives me today.”

She says this with a renewed, fierce pride that evokes a surge of admiration from him. It tears through his chest unlike anything he has ever experienced before, but then again, she is unlike anything he had ever seen before. Wildly, he wishes they were sharing something so precious face to face. His hand flexes reflexively as his mind imagines sweeping a thumb across the ridge of her cheekbone.

“If not a doctor, what career would you have chosen?” He is surprised by the gentleness of his own voice, the sound foreign to his ears.

When she speaks, she sounds almost like her usual, cheeky self. “A beauty guru.”

“A what?”

“It's people online filming their makeup routines.”

Ethan has never heard of anything so pointless in his life. “Be serious.”

“I am! There might still be some videos online of my failed attempts,” she says, laughing. “But in terms of a realistic career, I would've probably chosen to be a homicide detective or a forensic pathologist.”

He raises his eyebrows at this, stunned for a moment at their shared interest in detective work. “Why?”

Lilac mulls over her answer in a characteristic silence. “Obviously, there is the allure of gathering evidence and solving a mystery.” A deliberate pause, then—“But I always thought that was a bit selfish.”

“Selfish?”

Ethan can't help the outburst. After all, connecting the pieces of an unknown puzzle is precisely why he once considered that career.

“Yes, some doctors want to deliver the perfect diagnosis in a self-congratulatory way. To help the patient, yes, but to walk away with the gratification of having conquered a mystery.”

His itch to argue is quelled by his curiosity and so he says nothing.

“I wanted to be a detective to solve the mystery as a way to fight for the voiceless.” Her voice drops to almost a whisper as she admits this. With a rush of satisfaction, Ethan realizes he is probably the first one hearing this reasoning. “There is something sick about being able to name notorious serial killers without a problem, but we can't do the same for their victims. They are the ones whose stories should be told, whose memories should be celebrated. They are the ones who deserve the accolades and the justice of finally solving that mystery.”

Ethan has no rebuttal for the first time in his life.

As his brain struggles to reconcile the young doctor's words with the inexplicable thundering of his pulse, Lilac laughs.

“No offense, Dr. Ramsey, but I was expecting a different line of questioning here.”

Ethan forces himself to recover. “How so?”

“If I were asking you questions, I'd be a lot noisier,” she says, unabashed.

Ethan allows a chuckle. “That's not surprising,” he comments. “What type of questions would you be asking?”

“I don't know…” She trails off pensively. “Maybe your type?”

Ethan's mouth goes slack. He recovers enough to say something, though he is not sure what. Luckily, he doesn't have to know because she continues, “I'd definitely ask about relationships, past and current.”

By this point, his heartbeat is an uproar in his hearing. The brash comments should be concerning coming from a subordinate but he feels like a fraud when he considers chastising her. Though he would never admit it out loud, the answers to those questions intrigue him to the point of restlessness.

“Fine,” he allows quietly. “Answer those.��

A surprised little laugh comes through the speakers. “Really?”

“Yes, let the record show this was your idea, Rookie,” he says in what he hopes is a casual tone. “What was the first one you mentioned? Ah, yes—What's your type?”

The image of her brain activity, which Ethan had forgotten to glance at until that moment, lights up at the amygdala. An emotional response.

He can sense the reluctance in her silence.

“Tall. Definitely taller than me,” she begins at long last, her voice dignified, as though she is forcing herself to push past any bashfulness. “Dark hair.”

The answer is exasperatingly vague. The descriptors easily fit the surgical intern he saw her kiss all those weeks ago and the muscular paramedic who glances at her with besotted eyes every chance he gets.

“Intelligent,” she continues.

The diagnostician in him almost discounts Lahela on the sole basis of being a surgical intern.

Lilac clears her throat so subtly, he almost attributes it to static in the speakers. “Someone with a dry sense of humor and sarcastic to a fault,” she says, a lot softer now. “Someone who can keep me on my toes.”

The scan displays activity in the frontal lobe, similar to what he saw when he called her “Rookie”. The small media room, despite having the air conditioner at full blast, feels suddenly sweltering.

“What did I say next for my questions?” she asks, saving his mind from traveling a dangerous path.

“Relationships.”

“Right,” she says with an exhale.

Ethan says nothing, afraid even the slightest sound will discourage her.

“Past relationships are… complicated and mercifully ancient history.” On his screen, he sees the most activity yet. A visible reaction in the right hippocampus, the amygdala, both sides of the prefrontal cortex, and the insular cortex— undeniable anger.

Lilac, however, does not elaborate any further. Instead, she hurries on, “Current relationships are also complicated, frustrating, and nonexistent.”

The words hang between them, like a pendulum. He is convinced they carry more meaning but Ethan's own brain feels abuzz with activity, too tumultuous to formulate follow up questions. When his eyes fall on the clock, he notes they have been at this for almost an hour.

“I think we're done here,” he says.

He leaves the media room, deliberately pausing outside the imaging lab to give Lilac enough time to put all of her clothes back on. By the time he enters the room, she is throwing on her coat, hands raking through her shiny hair.

“Everything working okay?”

“Like a charm,” he responds, mind still spinning.

An incessant stab of dread begins to pierce through him as they prepare to go back to work. His mind wanders to Naveen, weak and alone in his room, and icy twines of fear take root deep in Ethan’s stomach once again.

“Thank you… for the assistance.”

Lilac flashes him an easy smile. “Any time.”

Ethan manages an awkward nod turning to leave. Something powerful holds him back before he can take another step. As full fledged panic about facing Naveen's new symptoms grips him, he wants nothing more than to confide in her.

He stops and turns to face her.

Lilac tilts her head to one side, watching him curiously.

The magnitude of what he is about to do hits him like a train and his newfound courage vanishes at once. With a grimace, he waves the idea off and exits the room.

______

Author’s Note: A HUGE thank you to everyone who sent me questions Ethan could ask. I tried my best to include them here.

“Do you prefer cats or dogs?”-- @drethanramslay

“What inspired you to become a doctor?” -- Anon and @scorpiochick8

“If not a doctor, what career would you have chosen?” @scorpiochick8

The not so subtle questions about her love life-- @eramsey28

Answering the career question wit banter, then with a serious answer. -- @whippedforethanramsey

Ethan’s slightly jealous thoughts about Bryce and Raf-- @schnitzelbutterfingers

Sorry if I didn’t include all requests! This would have been 20 pages long if I hadn’t trimmed some of it lol.

I swapped some of the dialogue from the original. Also, I’m so sorry to @takeharryandgo for the horrible brain science here. Forgive me, Doc.

What Lilac said about her parents is exactly how I feel about mine. So I just had to include that here.

Finally, I intend to continue these from Ethan’s POV. However, for personal reasons, I will keep my next few projects under wraps.

______

@dulceghernandez | @lion-ess24 | @emotionalswift2 | @the-soot-sprite |

#open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #playchoices #My writing

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legoshi-plz · 4 years

Text

Cynic (Legoshi x Reader)

Legoshi x Canine! Reader

Warning: NSFW (+18), minor mention of Rape/ Sexual Assault

Summary: Maybe you and a certain Grey Wolf are more alike than you thought.

A/N: So I decided to change up these requests just a little so that I could combine them ! I hope you guys like it! These started off as Headcanons but i got a little carried away lol also Characters are all over 18 in this fic

/////////////

You weren’t exactly what people would call a ‘happy’ animal.

Okay that was an understatement, you could be downright depressing at times. It’s not like you actually meant to be such a downer, you just considered yourself a realist and being a Carnivore in today’s society was the farthest thing from a ‘happy’ existence.

People profiled Carnivores wherever they went, always quick to see your kind as natural aggressors and when they weren’t clutching their purses ready to call animal control on you all for just being alive, they were quick to go over the top to prove they saw “all animals equally”, which usually was just a ploy for ‘progressive points’.

Being a Domesticated Dog, you recognized your privilege was a double edged sword in one of the worst ways possible. You had Herbivores constantly in your face telling you “You’re one of the good ones” while other Carnivores mostly saw dogs as ‘sellouts’ who were willing to whore themselves out (socially and in... other ways) for even the slightest scrap of attention. It was infuriating just living in such a society and you constantly felt on the verge of snapping but if you did, you’d just prove to be everything they already thought you were.

So needless to say, you kept to yourself. You just couldn’t bring yourself to put on the false pretense of cheerfulness that domesticated animals were expected to uphold so you tried to keep to yourself. No one understood you nor did they try. They were too caught up in their own charades and you were beyond the point of explaining how screwed up this world was. They knew, they didn’t care.

You were convinced you would spend your entire high school career in the shadows, not making an impression (good or bad) on anyone or anything and for a while it seemed that way. Until your final year.

For the most part, keeping to yourself gave you a lot of time to observe others, rarely were you the one technically being ‘observed’. Which is why you couldn’t understand why a certain Grey Wolf couldn’t keep his eyes off you.

He was painfully obvious, his awkward attempts to hide his little obsession whenever his eyes met yours was almost comical.

You chalked it all up to him probably being another sick fuck with a fetish for submissive animals. It was more common than most people like to address and Domesticated female dogs were the leading demographic of rape/ sexual assault victims from wolves. It was mainly the close proximity of their biology that made it so hard for wolves to control themselves (if you could say they had any control to begin with.) They preyed on smaller dogs because in comparison to them it was the closest they could get to defiling a Herbivore without the internalized shame and disgust. Also female Carnivores were often not believed when it came to these crimes because they were perceived as stronger/ more aggressive and should have been able to defend themselves. Yet another flaw in this fucked up animal judicial system.

You decided to ignore the Wolf and hope he just moved on. There weren’t many dogs at Cherryton but there were a few others who would probably be more than happy to tame the beast that lie within him. Or between his legs.

But weeks turned into months and his interest in you failed to cease. You decided to confront him. You decided to do so after class once the rest of the class filed out. He usually drug his feet so it wouldn’t be hard to catch him. Best case scenario, he was embarrassed about getting caught and promised to stop. Worst case scenario, he can’t control himself and takes you right then and there. You were apathetic either way, there were worst things out there than fucking a Wolf right?

You approached his desk as he was scrambling to shove his things into his shoulder bag, the rest of the class had long filed out by now.

“H-Hi,” he said looking up at you, his ears tilted downwards.

“You got a problem with me or something?” You can tell by the way his ears tugged down even further that your voice came off a little harsh but that was just the way you were.

“W-Why would I have a problem with you, YLN-san?” He was avoiding your cold stare. He was a Grey Wolf for crying out loud, what was wrong with him? Wolves were a lot of things but skittish wasn’t one of them.

“Drop the formalities. You stare me down day in and day out but now you’re afraid to look me in the eye? What are you playing at?” Okay maybe you did sound a little harsh but you didn’t believe in skipping around the topic.

“I just... noticed we were kind of... the same, y’know....” he grimaced. You left out a dry laugh. He knew nothing about you but he thought the two of you were the same? This definitely had to be some sort of ploy. He wanted something from you and sooner or later you’d find out what that something was.

But that later never came. He began to explain himself, explain how he was pretty bleak too and that he couldn’t help but notice that someone else seemed just as paused in life as he was. At first you thought he was just churning out bullshit but the more you sat and listened to him, the more you hung around him, you began to see the undeniable similarities between you two.

He would express the struggles he faced with his own existence as a Wolf, how he felt like he could never truly be himself, or even know what being himself actually meant because he was so busy trying to make people unafraid of him. It was like you had met your other half. He understood what had been gnawing at you from inside for years now because he was going through the exact same thing. And so the two of you became fast friends, nearly inseparable from one another.

You tried to deny it but you were slowly becoming more and more infatuated with the Grey Wolf every day. Legoshi was so kind and reserved at times but you found those traits all the more endearing. He showed such vast wisdom and maturity despite his own social awkwardness and you found yourself overwhelmingly comfortable in his presence. Comfortable and safe, his naturally huge physique and protective instincts which should give you every right to fear him actually proving to do just the opposite.

Speaking of Physique, you had to admit that Legoshi was undeniably attractive. Tall, beautiful coat, all lean muscle, a thick healthy tail you had found yourself drooling over near-constantly. He was any Canine’s kryptonite and you couldn’t believe you hadn’t noticed it before now. Maybe it was just because you were so enamoured by his mind that your attraction to him physically was inevitable. Either way, you found yourself daydreaming about mounting him more times than you’d like to admit.

You thought that perhaps what you felt for Legoshi might be mutual until you found out he used to date a tiny Herbivore . And not just any Herbivore, a rabbit. The daintiest of them all. So he was just another sick psychopath with a fixation on innocence. You were heartbroken to say the least. What probably hurt the most was that you were no where near his type if Rabbits were his thing. You never stood a chance. But then again that wasn’t a surprise. You were nothing special prior to meeting Legoshi so why would yo expect anything to be different now.

That being said, it didn’t make you want Legoshi any less physically. You might not be his ideal mate but you knew there was still a part of him in there that had a desire for sexual release, a desire that Canine felt especially compelled to with other Canine, and you were going to capitalize off of that.

You found him in his usual spot in the art department after dark. He was always the last to leave.

“Y/N! Where’ve you been? H-have you been avoiding me?” He asked his tail tucked between his legs. You hadn’t seen him in about four days and giving the nearly inseparable friendship the two of you had over the past few months, it was out of character.

“I was,” you said bluntly. His ears lowered immediately.

“O-oh... did I do something wrong?”

“Yes,”

“... what was-”

“You fuck rabbits, Legoshi.” You saw his fur visibly stand on end and his eyes turn wide as saucers.

“Y/N I-”

“Look I’m just gonna cut to the chase,” you deadpanned, stepping forward, “I wanna have sex with you.”

“You WHAT?!”

“I’m attracted to you Legoshi. I might not be your type but I am small and I can make you feel good.” You didn’t wait for his response as you dropped to you knees in front of him.

“Y/N wait please,” he was tense all over but you were already unbuckling his belt and unzipping his trousers. Surprisingly, he went commando.

You pulled him out of his pants to see his knot was already beginning to swell at your touch and he was painfully hard. You licked your hand and began to stroke his impressive length. Guess it was true what they say, the thicker the tail, the thicker the-

“Y/N please just give me a second!” Legoshi asked cupping your face between both his large hands. You craned your neck up to meet his gaze but continued to pump his aching cock.

“Just relax, Legoshi. It’s okay if you have to pretend I’m a rabbit, I don’t really care. I know I’m not much to look at anyway,” you said, wrapping your mouth around his angry tip that was currently streaming out pre-cum. You moaned at the flavor as Legoshi shuddered above you.

“Y/N please stop, this can’t happen like this, okay.” He said slightly more forcefully as he pulled you off of him and began to tuck himself into his pants, his cock straining against the fabric defiantly creating an enormous bulge.

“Really? That unattracted to me, huh? Well, I guess it is what it is,” you said in your usually monotone voice while standing up and brushing off your skirt. You turned, about to make your exit when Legoshi grabbed your arm.

“Wait, Y/N, look I didn’t- it’s not that- I just-” Legoshi was flustered and looked as if he was ready to pass out at any moment.

“Spit it out, Wolf boy,” you said , trying to hide the fact that your feelings were pretty hurt.

“I just- I like you Y/N, really I do but-”

“You just don’t like me in that way. I heard you loud any clear. It’s whatever, Legoshi. Don’t stress it,” you said attempting to shrug out of his grip.

“Hold on, can we talk about this?!”

“There’s nothing to talk about, I wanted to have sex and you don’t.”

“I- I do w- of course I want to have sex with you, Y/N. I like you, a lot. You’re actually all I’ve been able to think about for a long time. But you’re so.... so.... indifferent towards even the slightest romantic implications, I didn’t think I had a shot in Hell...” he sighed.

“If you like me then why’d you stop me?” You asked evenly. You weren’t about to get your hopes up, that just wasn’t your style.

“Because I like you. If there’s even a chance you feel how I do then I wanna do this right. Ask you out properly, ask you to be my girlfriend, ask if I can kiss you, y’know the right steps before...”

“I suck your dick?” You offered, a small smirk playing at your lips. His still very much present hard-on twitched visibly at its mention.

“God, Y/N,” Legoshi groaned attempting to cover himself. You fought back the urge to giggle at his shyness despite the fact he was in your mouth less than two minutes ago.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of. I want to do it. Don’t you want me to?” You bit your lip in what you hoped was a seductive way.

“So fucking bad,” Legoshi groaned again unable to avert his eyes. You took this as an opportunity to step forward once more.

“Then why don’t we let this one slide, huh? And then we can do things your way?” You whispered palming him through his pants. He unconsciously began to grind lightly against your hand.

“Y/N, I’m in.... Male mode.... if we start, I might not be able to stop,” Legoshi voice was straining from trying to keep his own pleasure at bay. You dropped back down to your knees, once again pulling him out.

“Then don’t. Do you know how long I’ve been wanting to ride you, Legoshi? Let’s allow this one free-pass then you can start all the courting processes you want,” you said before taking him into your mouth. Legoshi felt his eyes roll back into his head as he thrust softly into your warm, wet throat.

“W-Wait, one more thing” he moaned, once again taking away what was quickly becoming your new favorite treat.

You were about to protest when he kneeled down to your level, again cupping your face in both his hands in order to place the sweetest kiss imaginable on your lips. He rested his forehead against yours for a moment, before pulling away to see you with the dopiest grin on your face.

Yeah, you were definitely going to be the death of him.

#beastars #legoshi x reader #legoshi x you #beastars legoshi #beastars legoshi x reader

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