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quickspinner · 2 years

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Guard My Heart - Ch 3 Your Heart is Glowing

With the end of Indelible in sight (if not exactly *near*) I've been putting more thought to this one. Thanks to @fan-written for sewing insight when I needed it and to @mintaka14 for beta reading for me so this chapter could still be mostly a surprise for @livrever, who's my usual beta. Surprise! (ish) 😁

Just a reminder, this fic was planned before Season 4 was released, so pretend everything past Season 3 doesn't exist, because I'm totally ignoring it for the purposes of this fic.

Gotta admit I'm eyeing that chapter count like hmmmmmm so fair warning, we may be looking at more in the 7-10 range (please please let it be under 10).

Also for those who have never worked in retail, POS in this context means "point of sale" not...that other thing. 😁

Marinette did not look like death, she decided as she examined herself in her own three-way mirror. Her suit was perfectly tailored, black with pink accents to coordinate with, but also contrast, the shop’s color scheme. She’d opted for slacks instead of a skirt so that she could crouch down and pin hems if needed, but they were perfectly fitted while still allowing her the range of motion she needed to work. The jacket was a flattering cut on her, the ruffles of her white blouse peeked out of the sleeves and collar, and her hair was done up in a chignon with some artful tendrils curling down around her neck. Her makeup was subtle but perfectly applied. Kaalki had painted her nails with a pretty base color of pink, and Wayzz had carefully, meticulously added tiny Chinese characters for luck and harmony in black, one on each pinky finger.

“You look perfect, Marinette,” Tikki assured her, peeping out from her pocket.

“I’m so nervous,” Marinette sighed, stepping carefully down from the platform and into the customized, well-padded low heels she had chosen for today. She’d worked hard to make sure they were comfortable, knowing how much she’d be on her feet today.

“It’s going to be okay,” Pollen assured her from the other pocket. “You’ve worked so hard!”

“And your parents have been promoting the shop for weeks,” Tikki added.

“The management company did a great job with the advertising too,” Marinette agreed, walking to her front door, which was no longer covered in paper. She peeked out at the grandstand set up in the square beyond Luka’s shop. “They hired a band and everything. Luka knows them and he said they’re really good ‘for a pop cover band.’”

“Speaking of Luka,” Tikki giggled, poking Marinette’s side and pointing through the window. “He’s coming this way.”

“He—oh!” Marinette grabbed the door handle and pushed it open, stepping aside as she did so. She had no idea how he’d been intending to get the door open himself, since he had a to-go cup of coffee from one of the other shops in the row in each hand.

“Good morning, Luka,” Marinette giggled as he came inside. He was dressed much the same as he did every day, except that his hair was pulled back in a short ponytail and maybe even gelled to keep the sides smooth, and his clothes, while casual, were less faded and ragged than his usual choices. He came in with a self-conscious smile.

“I figured we could both use a pick me up,” he said as he stepped aside so that she could let the door fall closed. “I don’t know about you but I’m nervous as—” He paused when he turned toward her, jaw dropping. “Wow,” he muttered. “You look amazing.”

Marinette smiled at him, doing a little turn to show off her outfit. “Thank you. No better way to feel confident than to look your best, right?”

Luka held out the cup of coffee in his hand. “I’m almost afraid to give you this now. Everything in here looks so fancy and pristine.”

Marinette took the coffee, giggling. “Catch me at the end of the day, barefoot with my hair flying everywhere and wrinkles in my suit.”

His gaze zeroed in on her then, direct and intense, and Marinette’s pulse sped up. “I absolutely will,” he grinned, and with a clear effort, looked away. “I definitely want to hear how the first day went and I’ll probably be glad to have someone to freak out to.”

“As if you ever freak out,” Marinette scoffed, and Luka snorted softly.

“You’d be surprised,” he said, shoulders slumping just slightly. “It may not look like most people’s freakout, but I definitely have them. Maybe I should have followed your example and dressed up, because I feel like I swallowed fifty akumas and they’re all crashing into each other in my stomach.” He sighed. “It’s like getting ready to go onstage with Jagged, only worse, because I’ve never done this before.”

Marinette giggled at the mental image. “You look great, Luka, you’re just fine for the atmosphere you’re trying to create. Or rather, that you create without trying.” She tilted her head slightly as she regarded him more critically. “Although...come with me.”

She took his coffee from him and walked to the back of the shop, glancing back to make sure Luka was following her. She set both coffee cups on the counter before she pointed to the pedestal. “Up.”

“Okay,” Luka drawled, cocking an eyebrow before he took the step up. “Wow, this is humbling,” Luka muttered, staring at his full length, three-way reflection.

“Hush,” Marinette said, pulling open a drawer under the counter to pluck out some supplies. “Take off the hoodie for a minute.”

He did, dropping it off to one side, and then folded his arms over his chest, clearly feeling a little exposed. He eyed Marinette a little dubiously as she approached him with pins attached to a magnet on her wrist.

“Relax,” Marinette murmured as she tugged his arms down so the shirt would hang properly. “There’s nobody here but me, and I’m just going to make a couple of adjustments. You’ll be shocked what a little tailoring can do even for the simplest garments. I’m going to be touching you a lot, so tell me if you start feeling uncomfortable, okay?”

“Sure,” he breathed, hands flexing at his sides. “What do you need me to do?”

“Nothing. Just stand there and think calm thoughts.” Marinette stepped up on the pedestal behind him. “If I just take in the sides and a little bit in the shoulders…” She moved around beside him, gathering the extra fabric and folding it at an angle with quick, practiced movements. She pinned one side, and then did the other, eyeing the tears in his shirt to make sure she wasn’t pulling them out of shape before she put in the pins. “How’s that? Still comfortable? Take a deep breath.” He did, and Marinette watched in the mirror the way his chest pressed against the shirt. Feeling a blush rise to her face, she unpinned and loosened the fold slightly on both sides, and had him do it again. “Okay, that looks good. This is totally the wrong way to go about this by the way, don’t tell anyone I did it. Normally I would be doing a bunch of measuring first, but we’re pressed for time, so this is going to be quick and dirty.”

Luka coughed, the tips of his ears turning red. “Quick and dirty can be fun,” he laughed into his hand, and Marinette slapped his back and pulled his arm back to his side.

“Pervert,” she muttered.

“You’re the one with your hands all over me,” he shot back, and Marinette turned red to her hairline. She was actually trying very hard not to think about the body underneath the shirt she was touching. Because she was a professional.

She sure as hell wasn’t going to let him tease her without getting him back, though. She cleared her throat and then put her hands on his shoulders, putting her chin just over his shoulder so she could look at him directly in the mirror.

“Take it off, Luka,” she told him, and Luka choked.

“Unfair,” he muttered, reaching for his collar.

“You started it. Watch the pins,” she warned him, reaching to hold the hem out away from him. Carefully they got the shirt off of him, and Marinette realized abruptly that she had not prepared for the three shirtless Lukas facing her in the mirror. “I’ll be right back,” she said quickly, and took the shirt and her suddenly flaming face to the back room, flipping it inside out as she went.

Checking the time, she worked quickly, laying the shirt out to mark her line.

“What are you going to do?” Luka asked behind her, and Marinette jumped.

“Luka!” she gasped, putting a hand on her heart. “Are you trying to kill me?”

“Not yet,” he grinned with a wink, folding his arms over his bare chest, and she squeaked indignantly.

“Luka,” she whined, throwing a scrap piece of fabric at him that didn’t get very far.

“Sorry,” Luka said, his shoulders curling slightly just like Juleka’s did. “Just nerves coming out, I guess. Anyway, I felt kind of weird standing there like this with all the windows, so…”

“Oh. Right. I should have thought of that and closed the curtain, I’m sorry.” Stupid. Ugh. Left him standing in the shop half-naked—okay stop thinking. “Do you care if I cut this?” she asked, turning to her serger.

“Anything you need to do, as long as I’m dressed when I walk out of here. I’d hate to start rumors.” Luka chuckled.

“I don’t remember you being such a flirt,” Marinette sighed, lining her marks up carefully and checking the machine settings. “Plug that iron in for me?” she nodded over at the iron already set up across the room.

“Sorry. I’m sorry. I swear I’m not, I’m just—” He sighed, and reached back to tug on his ponytail. “Sorry.” He went to do as she asked, and Marinette took a breath and focused on what she was doing. She finished the quick seams, setting aside the excess fabric that the serger had cut. Then she took a breath and got up, facing Luka.

“No, I’m sorry,” she told him, pausing to look up and meet his eyes. “I just kind of waylaid you and dragged you into this and I’m really sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I didn’t mean to make things weird.”

“No, it’s not that, I—” Luka sighed, as she turned back to the machine. “I appreciate that you’re trying to help. I really do.”

“It’s only a little thing, I know.” Marinette hunched her shoulders slightly. “But, well. It’ll help, I promise. Most people don’t realize what a difference a little tailoring can make, even on a simple t-shirt, and it’s so easy to do, and...well, like I said. If you’re comfortable and confident in how you look, you’ll feel better able to face whatever comes. It’s a basic tenet of my business and I really believe in it.” She gave him a smile over her shoulder as she took the shirt to the ironing board. “Trust me.”

He smiled back, trailing after her. “I do.” Then he chuckled as he watched her. “That shirt’s probably never been ironed since I bought it.”

“I kinda figured,” Marinette laughed, “but the seams won’t look right until they’re pressed.” Finished, she held the shirt at arm's length and looked it over carefully before nodding and turning to present it to Luka.

He pulled it back over his head, and Marinette helped him tug it down and settle it. Probably unnecessarily, but she was nervous now, and she couldn’t help fussing over him just a little. When it was on, she ran her hands across his shoulders and down his sides with a satisfied smile before tugging the hem one more time.

“Not bad for a rush job,” she smiled. “Come and see.” She dragged him back out to the mirror again. “I didn’t change much, just gave it more of a fitted shape for you. Not too tight, I don’t want to take away that relaxed air that you have—”

“I have an air?” Luka asked, expression amused as he stepped up on the platform.

“Yes,” Marinette told him insistently, reaching out to tug the hem of his shirt and smooth out the wrinkles. She put her hands on his hips and faced him to the mirror with a smile of pure pride.

“Wow,” Luka said, blinking at his reflection and turning a little. “That...does actually make a difference.”

Marinette giggled. “Consider it thanks for the coffee.”

“Aw man, the coffee,” Luka said, turning and hopping down to check the cups on the counter. “Still hot,” he smiled, and took a sip of his. “Good thing you work so fast.”

Marinette grinned, and picked up his hoodie from the edge of the pedestal before walking over to hand it to him and take back her own coffee. Rather than put it on, Luka looped the hoodie over his arm.

“I better get back over there and get down to business,” Luka sighed, and smiled at Marinette. “You do look amazing, and you’re absolutely going to kill it today.”

“So will you,” Marinette said, smiling back at him. “We’re going to make this work, Luka. Both of us.”

“Right,” Luka chuckled. “So—here’s to today, and I’ll see you at closing time.” He held out his coffee and Marinette clinked hers against it.

“Thanks for the coffee, Luka,” she said, and then impulsively, she rose up on her toes and kissed his cheek. “Good luck today.”

He moved before she pulled back and kissed her cheek as well. “You too.”

She got a lungful of his scent, morning fresh with cologne and aftershave, and coffee carried on his breath, and felt the warm brush of his face along hers, and if she hadn’t been holding the coffee, she might have done something stupid, like grabbing onto him to keep him close. As it was, he seemed to linger there by her cheek for a moment as he said, “Thanks for the pep talk. And the wardrobe upgrade.” Then he turned away from her and covered the distance to the door in long strides, gone so fast that she didn’t have to worry about schooling her expression or covering her reaction.

Marinette went back to the counter on shaking knees and set her coffee down before she dropped it. She leaned against the counter and tried to breathe. She was beginning to realize on a new level just how dangerous it was to have Luka next door. There had always been a certain amount of magnetism between them, but Luka had never affected her like that before...but then she was a grown woman now, and he was very much a grown man, and she really, really needed to be more careful, before she did anything stupid that might ruin their friendship for good. And that would definitely be awkward, considering they were neighbors and both too invested in their new shops to move now.

She couldn’t give him what he deserved, anyway. Better to keep her head in the game and try not to let Luka get too far under her skin. So she was attracted to her friend. No big deal. It didn’t have to be anything.

Marinette took a couple of deep breaths, and picked up her tablet, pulling up her schedule and to-do list. Work. She just needed to work. This was her big day and she was not going to lose her professionalism over a man, no matter how attractive he was. It wasn’t long until opening time now, and she intended to be ready.

“You’re going to do great, Marinette.” Pollen’s little voice made Marinette jump, and she looked down to see the kwami peeping out of her pocket. She smiled and nodded.

“First things first,” Marinette declared, swiping over her to-do list with more force than necessary. “Let’s get started.”

Everything else quickly fell away as she let herself get swept up in the whirlwind of prepping her shop. She made notes as she went through what she hoped would become her morning routine. It would probably take a few weeks to tweak the process until it was absolutely perfect. Marinette had done her best to be prepared the night before, so there wasn’t nearly as much to actually do as there was to check, double check, and fiddle with. The lights on her window displays went out unexpectedly and she spent an anxious half-hour searching for the problem. She breathed a sigh of relief when she got it working again, and then had to go fix her hair and run a lint roller over her suit to remove the evidence of her efforts.

Finally, it was time.

“Well,” Marinette said, tucking a hand in her pocket to run a finger over Tikki’s head. “Here goes nothing.” She walked to her door, opened it, and kicked down the doorstop to hold it open. “We are officially open for business,” she breathed, flashing a welcoming smile to a couple of the people already strolling down the street. She glanced towards Luka’s shop door and saw him fixing his own doorstop. He took a deep breath, and then glanced up and met her gaze. Luka gave her a grin and a wink before disappearing back into his shop, rubbing his hands on the thighs of his jeans. He really is nervous , she thought as she stepped back into her own space. She fidgeted one more time with one of the dresses on display in the window, making sure the hem was perfect, but mostly just trying to look like she wasn’t about to pounce on the first person who walked into her shop.

The first hour or two were a little awkward, and Marinette found herself wishing she had Luka’s gift for reading people. Was she being too attentive? Making anyone uncomfortable? She was well aware that she could be a bit much, and she was almost more terrified of overwhelming a prospective customer than neglecting them.

It got easier, though, as the morning went on, and the sidewalk outside began to fill up with people. Enough people were drifting in and out of the shop that Marinette couldn’t spend too much time with any one person if they didn’t actively want her help, and she began to settle into a more comfortable, professional rhythm.

Much like in the bakery, people tended to come in waves, and during one of the lull periods, a smiling blond appeared in Marinette’s doorway with a silver tray in her hands and an apron over her front. Marinette greeted her reflexively, though she obviously wasn’t a customer.

“Hello,” said the cheerful girl, carrying her tray towards the counter. “I’m Cherry, I own the cafe across the street. I just came to offer you a sandwich and maybe drop off a few of our cards if you’d be willing to put them out.”

“Oh,” Marinette blinked, and then smiled back. “Of course! I’m Marinette.”

“I know,” Cherry grinned, holding up her tray for Marinette to select a sandwich. There were several individually wrapped and labeled with the main ingredient. There was also a stack of business cards piled on one side of the tray, and Marinette took a small pile from the top along with her sandwich. “Luka told me I should come talk to you about designing t-shirts for the cafe.”

“O-oh, he did?” Of course he did, she thought as she arranged Cherry’s cards next to the register.

“He’s so cute,” Cherry sighed, swooning against the counter. “I chatted him up a bit when he came in to get coffee this morning. Doesn’t say much, but he seems like a real sweetheart.”

“He is,” Marinette agreed, hoping she wasn’t blushing as she picked a sandwich and set it behind the lip of the counter. “We’ve been friends for a long time, actually. So, you’re interested in a t-shirt design? It would probably be best if we set up an appointment so we don’t have to rush.”

“Yes,” Cherry said, looking around the shop, and she looked suddenly uneasy. “Though, I’m not sure this is quite the vibe we’re looking for…”

“That’s okay,” Marinette said cheerfully, pulling up her calendar on her tablet. “I can work with a lot of different styles. Why don’t we set up a consultation, and—” She picked up one of her monogrammed business cards and offered it to Cherry. “There’s a link here to my digital portfolio. Take a look at it before our appointment, and if you still feel we wouldn’t be a good fit, you can cancel the consultation, no hard feelings.”

“That sounds great,” Cherry nodded, relaxing a little. Marinette wasn’t especially worried. She had curated her shop carefully but t-shirt and logo design had been her bread and butter for years, helping to keep her afloat so that she could work on her more complex design work. Marinette filled out a customer profile for Cherry on the new system with her contact info.

“That should do it,” Marinette nodded, holding out her hand for Cherry to shake. “I’ll also stop by the shop sometime soon so I can get a feel for the kind of thing you might be looking for.” Marinette glanced at the wrapped sandwiches again and made a mental note to bring over a business card for the bakery as well. “Thank you so much for the food, I hadn’t even thought of eating.

“My pleasure,” Cherry hiked her tray up onto her hip and shook Marinette’s hand. “We’re all going to be seeing each other a lot around here, so we might as well get friendly with our neighbors, right?” She winked and nodded her head at the wall that adjoined Luka’s shop. “Especially the cute ones.” She giggled, took her tray in both hands again, and went out of Marinette’s door, turning in the direction of Luka’s.

She seems friendly, Marinette thought drily, and turned on the best smile she could manage for the next group that came in the door.

As it got closer to lunch time, the shop began to empty out. Marinette found a few moments to eat her sandwich in the back room. It was decent, she grudgingly admitted, but she was still going to pass on her parents’ info. Good bread made everything better, after all.

The shop was still empty when she stepped back out, and Marinette walked to the door to look around. The band was getting set up, and they’d probably start playing soon. There was a long line out of the cafe and several people were sitting at the little tables in the square. Maybe now would be a safe time to take a few minutes and check out the other business owners on the block. They were all in the same boat, more or less, and there might be opportunities for cross promotion that would benefit everyone.

She put up a sign on the shop to let customers know when she would return and set out to meet her neighbors. It was an eclectic set of little shops. There was a vintage book shop run by a spritely elderly lady with spikey, bright purple hair and a broad smile, and a pet boutique run by a shy young man who blushed and stammered when he greeted her. Two cheerful middle-aged men were in charge of an art collective selling painting, pottery, and other goods from local artists. Marinette spent more time there than she should have, there were so many interesting things to see! She reminded herself that she needed to be frugal for now but resolved to come by and pick up some special items for her apartment when she had money to spend on such things.

Marinette had to head back after that, unconsciously bouncing a little to the beat of the band playing in the square, but her step quickened as she realized someone was waiting outside of her door. “Hello, I’m so sorry,” she gushed as she walked up, and the tall girl in front of her turned and smiled. “Oh, it’s Marcie, right? Luka’s friend.”

Marcie ducked her head a little bit and grinned shyly. “Yeah. Luka said I should come check your stuff out. I’m not, um. I have trouble finding clothes sometimes? He said you could help.”

Tall, broad-shouldered, and buff, Marcie definitely wasn’t the target audience for standard fashion. Marinette, though, was excited at the prospect. “I can certainly do that,” she said crisply, unlocking the door.

As she was opening the door and kicking the doorstop into place, she heard a familiar name boomed through the grandstand mic. Startled, she looked over to see Luka climbing the stairs of the grandstand with a lopsided grin as the band’s lead singer/guitarist waved him on.

“Oh, he’s going to play?” Marcie said, having turned at the same time Marinette did. “Awesome.”

The man with the mic handed over his guitar to Luka and grabbed him by the shoulders, moving him over and positioning him in front of another mic despite Luka’s laughing protests. “All right folks, here’s your own Luka Couffaine, owner of the Second Chance antique store there on the corner. Thanks for humoring me, Luka. Love playing with this guy, seriously.”

Marinette covered a giggle with her hand. Luka looked so much more himself with the guitar slung across his shoulders, his hands confident and precise as he strummed the pick down the strings in a graceful motion. Marinette sighed unconsciously, watching the curve of his arm and the motion of his muscles. He put the pick in his teeth for a moment and paused to adjust the guitar strap and a tuning peg. He took the pick out of his mouth and licked his lips, his eyes flicking up to scan over the small crowd. He gave a quick smirk and then looked up at the rest of the band, waiting for the count.

Marinette's smile grew as she watched him play, feeling a surge of nostalgia and at the same time, a strange sense of disconnection between the boy she remembered and the man on stage. Her eyes widened slightly when he stepped up to the mic and began to sing a harmony with the vocalist. She’d never heard him sing before.

There was a cough by her elbow and Marinette jumped slightly. Marcie smiled down at her knowingly, and Marinette blushed. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen him play,” Marinette muttered, reaching up to smooth her hair.

“You two used to be a thing, right?” Marcie asked, and Marinette spluttered.

“No! No. I mean. There was a thing, but. We weren’t a thing. Things just, um. Never worked out that way.”

“Oh, I see,” Marcie said, nudging Marinette with her elbow. “A missed chance.”

“Please don’t say it like that,” Marinette sighed, shoulders slumping. “I hurt Luka very badly back then, I know I did, and...I don’t want to risk that again. This isn’t a good time for either of us, we both have so many things to focus on, and I...I’m not good at relationships. I don’t want to do that to Luka again.”

“Oh.” Marcie put her hand on Marinette’s arm. “I’m sorry. I won’t tease you about it, I promise.”

Marinette blinked, and then smiled up at her. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Marcie grinned, and for a while they stood watching Luka play and sing along with the band.

“He looks happy,” Marinette said, without realizing she’d spoken aloud.

“He really does,” Marcie agreed. “I’m glad. It’s been a while since I’ve seen him really happy. He doesn’t talk about it much, but I think touring with Jagged really shook him up and did a number on his confidence. I hope this new start will be good for him, and give him a chance to figure out what he really wants, you know?”

Marinette nodded, sighing softly. “It can be hard, figuring out our dreams don’t really match up to reality.”

The song ended and the crowd gathered around the square cheered. Luka waved his appreciation, and then laughed when the audience groaned as he took the guitar and handed it back to the lead singer. Luka just shook his head as his friend tried to persuade him to stay on stage, slapped the other man on the back, and descended the bandstand stairs. Marinette blinked as she recognized Cherry at the bottom, holding out a bottle of water to him. He grinned and accepted it, nodding at whatever she was saying before throwing his head back to drink.

“It’s a journey,” Marcie sighed, and Marinette had to think to remember what they were talking about. “You’ve gotta find a way to live that’s true to you and still lets you get by in the world.”

Cherry cocked a hip and tilted her head as Luka’s focus returned to her. Marinette rolled her eyes and tore her gaze away, facing Marcie so she didn’t have to see any more. “But here, we’re supposed to be talking about you,” she said, feeling a pang of guilt at being so distracted. “Please, come in, I’m sure I have some things that can work for you.”

Marcie was a fun and challenging client and exactly what Marinette needed to pull her back to reality. Her muscular build reminded Marinette of her old acquaintance Ondine, and Marinette had learned a lot from working with Ondine while she and Kim were dating. Marcie was a bit shy and self-conscious, not confident in her own taste, and it felt good to help her.

Money was an issue, of course. Marinette hated that Marcie and so many others had to spend so much money on clothes just because she fell outside of the traditional mold. Marinette did her best to keep her prices down, but there was only so much she could do without sacrificing quality or undervaluing her own time. Marcie couldn’t exactly afford to fill her closet with bespoke clothing, and buying off the rack wasn’t such a great experience for her either. Marinette put her mind to work, trying to figure out the best way for Marcie to get the most out of her money, and relished the challenge.

Because she couldn’t help herself, Marinette cut Marcie a deal on tailoring, rationalizing that Marcie would pretty much always need tailoring on her clothes and therefore it was actually good business to offer her a discount up front if it meant securing a long-term customer. Marcie left smiling, with one new outfit hanging in Marinette’s back room marked for tailoring, and an appointment for a consultation on altering some of Marcie’s current outfits.

Customers had started to pick up again for the afternoon, and Marinette was kept hopping until well after dark. When she finally closed the door at the end of the day, she had to laugh at the image in her mirror. She wasn’t barefoot yet, but her hair was falling down, her suit was wrinkled, and she looked just as tired as she had predicted. Even so, it had been a good, satisfying day, and Marinette was grinning as she closed out her POS system and did a little dance behind the counter. She went through her closing checklist, and dragged herself upstairs. She was starving , and though she was tired, she was still jazzed, and she had a sudden craving for something indulgent. Pancakes and bacon, she thought, as she kicked off her shoes at her door. The kwamis swarmed around her with congratulations and questions, and she laughed as she tossed her suit jacket over the back of her couch and went to get started on dinner.

She was frying the second pan of bacon when a sharp knock on the door made her jump. She glanced around as the kwamis quickly zipped into hiding, and then went to the door. She had to stand on her toes to look out the peephole, but once she saw the familiar figure outside she dropped back to her sock feet and undid the lock.

“Luka,” Marinette said as she opened the door. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, fine, I just…” Luka seemed to hesitate, and then let out a gusty sigh and grinned at her. “I’ll be honest, whatever you’re cooking smells amazing and I’m starving. I came to beg.”

Marinette blinked at him, and then burst out laughing, stepping back to open the door. Luka slouched inside with his hands in his pockets, a self-deprecating smile on his face.

“I’ll tell you what,” Marinette said, closing the door behind him. “I’ll feed you, and then you play for me. Deal?”

“Deal,” Luka chuckled. “I would have done that for free though.”

Marinette looked over her shoulder and winked at him as she went back to the kitchen. “I would have fed you for free too. I don’t have a table, so belly up to the bar. I’m almost done.” She waved him toward the stools and went back to the kitchen. She saw Daizzi poking his head out of a cabinet to give her a mournful look and mouthed sorry at him. It was a little disturbing to her how much Daizzi loved bacon, but pigs were pigs.

She flipped the last of the pancakes and tipped the pan of bacon onto the plate, and then turned back to ask Luka a question that she immediately forgot as soon as she met his eyes. He blinked quickly and straightened a little.

“So how was your first day?” he asked before she could say anything. He looked down and traced the pattern of the corian with his index finger.

“What? Oh, busier than I expected,” she said, turning back to the stove with some confusion. “The promotion and the band and all the grand opening festivities really drew a crowd. Time will tell if any of the contacts I made are worth anything for the future, but it felt good to start with a bang. Yours?” She glanced over her shoulder.

“Same,” he said, leaning his chin on his fist. “I was really freaked out at first about actually trying to sell stuff, but in the end it was really just a lot of talking to people, listening to their stories, and pointing them in the right direction now and then. I don’t love the bargaining but the rest of it went okay. Lots of tourists, so the small things moved pretty well. Everybody loved the turtle, by the way.” He grinned, and Marinette giggled. “Are you sure you don’t need any help?”

The kitchen was so narrow that Marinette doubted she could have shared space with even her mother without several full-body collisions, let alone someone of Luka’s height and armspan, but she tried not to smile as she declined. “I’m almost done anyway,” she said, and then frowned. “Maybe I should have made some eggs. Do you want eggs?”

“Don’t do anything extra for me,” Luka protested, and Marinette rolled her eyes, stepping to the fridge.

“Thanks for the coffee this morning,” Marinette said, as she opened the carton of eggs, trying to decide how many to make. “It was really sweet of you to think of me.”

“Well, you’ve always been my lucky charm,” Luka chuckled. “My life was brightest when you were in it. I’m happy to get you coffee if it means you’ll stick around.”

Marinette jolted, fumbling the egg carton. She managed to keep it from tipping and quickly set it on the counter. Taking a deep breath, she braced her hands on either side of it, closing stinging eyes.

Big hands closed on her shoulders in a tight squeeze, and then reached forward to wrap around her, pulling her back against Luka’s warm body. Marinette’s hand curled around his forearm on instinct and she hung her head.

“No,” he said quickly, voice low and urgent. “No, no, I didn’t mean it like that, Marinette, I swear. I’m sorry, I was thoughtless.”

Marinette opened her mouth and drew breath to tell him it was okay, but the breath hitched in her throat and escaped again as a sob. Luka reached around her to turn off the stove. His hands moved back to her shoulders, coaxing her to turn, and then guided her head to his shoulder as he swayed with her gently, making soothing noises.

Marinette pressed her face into his shoulder and gripped the back of his shirt, trying to keep back the tears.

“I’m so sorry,” Luka sighed. “I’m still shit when it comes to saying what I mean. I just...I’m happy you’re in my life again, Marinette, and I hope you’re going to be here for a long time, but—but if you’re not...you need to be you, Marinette, and live your life the best you can. I’d never want to hold you back or, or stop you from doing that, I just…I’m so sorry for making you cry.” He pressed his face to her hair. “I swear I didn’t mean it like that. I swear I didn’t.”

Marinette took a shuddering breath against him. “Shut up,” she mumbled. “And go get your guitar.” She straightened up, and pushed him gently away. “I’ll be done cooking when you get back.”

He was still and silent for a long moment, as if he hadn’t understood her, but then he pulled back, hands finding her shoulders again to squeeze firmly. “I’ll be right back,” he told her, bending down slightly to look in her face, and then he practically ran out of the apartment.

Marinette turned back to the counter and buried her face in her hands for a moment. A fuzzy body collided with her fingers and she shifted to hold it against her cheek as Roarr nuzzled her. She heard the stove click back on, and knew Tikki and Daizzi were continuing her breakfast-for-dinner prep.

“Can I bite him?” Roarr growled, rubbing her face all over Marinette’s.

“It’s not his fault,” Marinette whispered. “He didn’t mean to. He doesn’t know, how could he?”

“Don’t care,” Roarr grumbled, and Marinette had to smile..

“I did leave him, emotionally, even if he’s the one who left physically. I was checked out before he left and he knows it. Of course he knows it. He just doesn’t know why, because—” She sighed, tired of the worn path in her mind. He didn’t know, because she couldn’t tell him, because—

Barkk landed on her shoulder with a little whimper and licked her cheek. “Don’t be sad, Marinette,” he said, and she reached up to scratch behind his ears as well. Marinette heard a few tentative notes from Luka’s guitar next door, tuning. She felt a twinge of guilt for breaking down on him like that.

“I’m all right,” she promised them, drying her eyes on her sleeves. “Okay, go hide before he comes back.” She gave both kwamis a little kiss and a pat before they sailed off, and gave a grateful smile to Tikki and Daizzi as she took back the pans. They each hugged her cheek, and went off to hide, just as Luka knocked and opened the door. He leaned in, eyebrows slightly raised.

“Are you sure you want me around?” he asked softly. “I can order in, or just take the food and go, if you’d rather—”

“No, no, please come in,” Marinette said, setting plates piled with pancakes on the breakfast bar. “I’ve made way too much to eat by myself, anyway.”

“It’s like you knew I was coming,” he joked as he set his guitar by the sofa and slid, tentatively, onto the barstool, like he was still afraid she might kick him out. Marinette laughed weakly and put the plate of bacon between their two plates. She couldn’t very well tell him she was cooking for herself plus a horde of tiny gods, but the look on his face probably would have been priceless.

She handed Luka the silverware and got out butter, syrup, and two glasses of milk before finally coming around the bar to sit down next to him.

“I’m really sorry I got so upset,” Marinette began, feeling she owed him an explanation. “It just...feels like I’m always leaving people. I get so busy and I overcommit and then people are upset, and I guess...I guess somewhere along the line it was easier to just...stop trying. I can’t expect other people to do all the work, you know? It’s better just to let them go. Maybe someday when—” when I don’t have to be Ladybug anymore “—when things are different, then I can have those kinds of friendships again. It just feels kind of impossible right now.”

“It’s not impossible,” Luka said gently, reaching over to lay a hand on her wrist. “Not at all.”

The look Marinette gave him must have been skeptical, because he smiled and withdrew his hand. “So my mom basically kicked me out of the house when Juleka turned eighteen and started modeling seriously,” he said, moving some bacon slices onto his plate as Marinette blinked at his abrupt change of topic. “It was pretty obvious that between university classes and her career, Jules wasn’t going to be back permanently any time soon, and Mom was just...ready to do her own thing again. I mean, she’s always done her own thing to an extent, but there were sacrifices she made to provide a minimal level of stability for me and Jules, and now she doesn’t need to anymore. So she told me I needed to find a place of my own, and almost before I knew it, I was couch surfing with friends and Juleka, and all our stuff was in storage. She traded the Liberty in on something a little more seaworthy. Now she’s living her best pirate life on the Liberty II and…” He gestured vaguely towards his apartment.

“Doesn’t that bother you?” Marinette frowned, leaning her chin on one hand as she pushed her food around on her plate with the other.

Luka didn’t answer right away, tucking into his dinner before he answered. “It bothered me a little bit, that she didn’t give me much warning, but her leaving didn’t bother me.” He smiled gently at Marinette. “No matter where she goes, she’s still my mom, and she still loves me, and I still love her. Just because she’s not here right now, and we don’t talk every day, or even every week, doesn’t change that we love each other. Same with Jules. She’s got her own life now, and sometimes we go weeks without seeing each other. When we do, though, it’s no big deal. She’s still my sister. It’s like we were never apart.”

Marinette couldn’t think of anything to say to that, and looked down, only to look up again when Luka put his hand on her back.

“I know it sounds different, because we’re family,” Luka said, “but it’s not. There’s friendships that are like that, where you do your own thing until your lives intersect again, and then it’s like you were never apart. And then your roads part and you wave goodbye until the next time. Forget all this recordkeeping bullshit about who texted who last and how long it’s been and whether you remembered to send them a facebook message on their birthday, or how many invitations for drinks they’ve passed up and bailed on. There’s all kinds of friendship out there, Marinette. You’re not doomed to be alone and isolated forever, just because you’re talented and driven and career-oriented, and you know where you want to be in life.”

Almost. Almost, he understood, except he couldn’t, because she couldn’t tell him the real truth. She couldn’t tell him how it wore on her to lie to everyone in her life, or the way those lies created distance simply by virtue of existing—distance the other person could always sense but couldn’t understand. Just like now, in this conversation. She was holding back, and he knew it, and he didn’t get why. Right now, he thought it was a trust issue, that if they ever grew close enough, she would eventually open up and tell him what was really the matter, and that distance would be gone.

Except that would never happen, and he would get tired of waiting, and hurt that she still didn’t trust him, and he would eventually recede even further, and fade into yet another background character in her life, a polite acquaintance with a silent grudge she could never assuage.

It was nice that he was trying, though. She gave him a weak smile, and nodded, though she could feel her lower lip trembling.

Luka’s smile was sad, and he brushed the back of his fingers against her cheek before he went back to his food. Eventually, Marinette’s hunger got the better of her melancholy mood, and she was able to enjoy the fluffy pancakes and the bacon she had been able to make just the way she liked it. Luka made a contented noise. “This is the thing I miss the most from the States,” he said, waving his fork at his plate. “I don’t know how they can eat this much heavy stuff for breakfast but for dinner?” He made a little moan and Marinette giggled. That gave her an opening to ask about his travels, and they made quiet, comfortable small talk until they were finished eating.

Luka gently insisted on helping her clean up, humming quietly as he stood beside her, drying the dishes that she handed him.

“All right,” she said, taking the dishtowel from him. “I’ve done my part. Time for you to pay up, sir.”

Luka chuckled. “Sure. Do you want to go change or anything?” He indicated the suit she was still wearing. “Not that you don’t look good, but—”

Marinette snorted and laughed, looking down at herself. “No, you’re right, I could definitely be more comfortable. I’ll be right back.”

She ended up just changing into her pajamas, a set that had a shirt that buttoned over the camisole so she didn’t feel too exposed, and by the time she came back out of her room, Luka was settled on the couch, fingers moving in slow, thoughtful motions over his guitar, just random chords as far as she could tell. His eyes were half closed, but as soon as she sat down on the other end of the couch and pulled her feet up under herself, he shifted into a gentle tune. Marinette folded her arms on the couch arm and rested her head on them, watching Luka play since he didn’t seem to be looking at her.

“Anything you want to hear?” he asked softly.

“Whatever you feel like playing,” she replied, and he nodded.

The music seemed to just wander for a moment, and then picked up into something she recognized. Luka didn’t sing, which she kind of regretted, having heard him earlier in the day. She’d like to hear him sing on his own, someday.

Snatches of the words played in her mind as she closed her eyes and listened.

…Just keep breathin and breathin’and breathin and breathin

… You remind me of a time when things weren’t so complicated…All I need is to see your face…

…Just keep breathin and breathin and breathin and breathin

“Marinette?”

“Hmm?” She opened her eyes and blinked at Luka. He smiled at her.

“Maybe I should go. You look so tired.”

I am so tired.

“One more?” she asked, and he chuckled.

“Sure,” he said, still smiling, and turned back to his guitar.

Again the melody wandered for a moment, and then he settled into something soft that she didn’t recognize.

She opened her eyes for a moment when he began to sing, but he wasn’t looking at her.

“Fare thee well, my own true love,” he sang, “Farewell for a while…I’m going away…but I’ll be by…though I go ten thousand miles…”

She let her eyes fall closed again…and when they opened, it was to the beep of her alarm, and the snores of the kwamis burrowed in the bed all around her. Marinette fumbled for the button on her alarm, and managed to turn it off. She lay blinking for a moment, trying to think. She vaguely remembered Luka’s soft voice, and his arm around her, supporting her as she zombie-walked to bed.

Marinette supposed she ought to be embarrassed, but she wasn’t. Anything, or nothing, Luka had promised her long ago, and despite the way things had fallen apart between them, he’d offered her nothing but friendship and affection since they both moved in. No judgment, no hurt, no resentment. It couldn’t last, but it was nice while she had it. She closed her eyes and tried not to remember that eventually she would have to push him away.

“Marinette?” a squeaky voice asked, and she opened her eyes again to find Daizzi floating in front of her nose. “Is there any bacon left?” he wanted to know.

Songs:

Breathin by Ariana Grande, specifically this cover by Eddie van der Meer

10,000 Miles by Mary Chapin-Carpenter

Fiction Master Post

#quickspins #guard my heart #lukanette #endgame lukanette #lukanette endgame #luka couffaine #marinette dupain-cheng #miraculousladybug #miraculous ladybug #pro lukamari

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merriclo · 9 months

Text

Everything About Lorule

@ikaishere made some beautiful art of Lorule and so i’ve decided to spill everything i can about them. enjoy <3

> from hcau <

general/pre-hcau stuff:

i said earlier that Lorule’s 19 but i changed my mind!! he’s like 22-23 :)

ravio and her have the weirdest fucking relationship. there’s so many rumors about what’s going on. like they’re roommates. theyre best friends. they’re business owners. they’re married. they pine helplessly. they make out sloppy style. they’re afraid of the other rejecting them. they’ve been dating for years. they insult the hell out of each other. they wax poetics about each other. they’re in a qpr. they’re married for tax benefits. they’re in love romantically. they’re somehow both each other’s sugar daddy.

and then the truth is that Ravio’s very nervously working up the courage to ask them out. meanwhile Lorule thinks they’ve been dating for months. also they’re married for tax benefits.

Lo gives Rav a kiss on the cheek and thinks abt how much she loves his partner. meanwhile Rav’s like “haha. just bros being bros right??? 😃 he couldn’t possibly be into me right???? i have no chance??????” they’re sleeping in the same bed and Lorule’s wrapped around Ravio and he’s still convinced that Lo’s just a really friendly person

Lorule’s incredibly sweet and energetic and goes with the flow of things very well but on the inside the alarm bells are screaming 24/7. there’s so much behind those eyes and it’s called unspeakable anxiety.

she’s originally from Hytopia! he lived there for 14 years, but ran away to Hyrule after his mom died. yeah that’s right not only is this bitch a fucking ginger, they’re also french.

Growing up in Hytopia means that they’re good at sewing, knitting, crocheting, embroidery, macrame, etc.

because of this, she’s got eye strain, minor scoliosis + back pain, neck pain, shoulder pain, and joint pain. they stretch and everything pops.

their accent is thick as hell, too. i have a fic that’s half-way written abt it that should be out sooner or later actually !!

before ALBW, she had a huge fear of heights and getting over it was really difficult. once she ended up sobbing while practically paralyzed on a floating, unstable, moving platform that was hundreds of feet above lava, just trying to get herself to jump off of it and onto the next platform below. understanding that they’re brave despite their fears is something he and Ravio are getting through together lmao

he likes marmalade. and birds

they’re simultaneously very very silly and jarringly blunt

they used to not curse much but Ravio’s rotten mouth wore off on them and it’s incredibly funny. once they tripped over a rock and let out the most vile string of curses known to man, only to get up and make direct eye contact with a horrified priest

their sense of humor is a mix of the worst puns in existence and incredibly clever innuendos or sex jokes

music is a crazy important part of Lorulian culture, so he and Rav sing together all the time :) he’s gotten pretty good at it too

speaking of Ravio, he’s got the worlds’ worst New Jersey accent. it’s the Lorulian accent but he’s undeniably got it the worst. overhearing him and Lo talk causes constant whiplash.

not a fan of ghosts or poes

he sleeps like a fucking rock. Gulley has to get creative to actually wake them up in the morning, because if he doesn’t she’s sleeping well past noon

BESTIES with Irene. they shit talk :)

he’s also very good friends with Zelda and Styla, and is in the process of forming a better personal relationship with Hilda

not necessarily the smartest when it comes to the more scholarly things. most of it flies right over his head lmao. Ravio has tried to explain politics to him several times and it’s never worked. however!! she’s very smart when it comes to hands-on things (and counting and measurements—those are essential to most crafts.)

complicated relationship with the concept of beauty. very very complicated relationship.

idolized the hell out of Oracle when they were younger. yes their mind breaks for a good while when they first meet them and realize he’s a total fucking loser jackass.

she’s always doing something. it’s both out of fear of being seen as lazy and out of a need for an outlet for their energy

fantastic depth perception

their map was their mom’s!! it’s crazy fuckin faded but he refuses to buy a new one

unofficially a part of the blacksmith’s family. it’s sort of like an open secret, everyone knows it but no one talks about it

he’s crazy close with Gulley, they hang out all the time. don’t let their constant teasing and playful bickering fool you, they would die for each other. they’re siblings your honor.

the blacksmith’s wife (i’ve named her Giulia) made her her clothes. Giulia might not be the best seamstress, but Lorule full on sobbed when she first put it on. something something, mommy issues and emotional healing, you get it

she does odd jobs and favors around town all the time. her off-days are spent roaming through Kakariko, sewing up holes in a clothes, fixing fences, delivering packages, babysitting, that sort of stuff. everyone in town is very familiar with and fond of him as a result.

hcau stuff:

out of the chain, they’re closest with Ages, Wild, and Oracle.

Ages because they’re both really creative people and Ages feels super comfortable around them because of his prior experiences with Ravio.

also. ok listen. i’ve been pondering adding a sort of tragic romance element to this au bc i am obsessed with the “maybe if things were different, if we were different, if we were in another life, we could’ve been” trope. i’m rlly interested in exploring the quiet acknowledgement that something is there accompanied by the quiet refusal to do anything because they both know that they’ll never see each other again once the journey is over. and idk man Ages and Lorule are kind of perfect for that 👀

regardless of if i pursue that route or not, their character arcs are very closely linked and they deal with and get through a lot of shit together :)

Wild because they’re both genderfluid and Lorule really admired their relationship with fashion. Wild rocks the most atrocious outfits with a confidence that’s an inch away from becoming hubris. also they talk abt magic jewelry and clothes together.

and Oracle because holy shit this hero i’ve idolized all my life is actually a total fucking loser in desperate need of psychiatric assistance i have got to help them. also Lo can sniff out a closeted trans kid from miles away. also also they talk abt magic jewelry and clothes together.

very good at conflict resolution. they’ve done the whole “working together” thing before and they’re damn good at it

because of how close they are with Gulley, they’re very good with the younger heroes. he doesn’t act condescendingly or keep information from them cause Gulley rants about how people do that to him all the time

heavily disagrees with how much Red and Prism sugarcoat things. she’s civil about it but definitely hates how slow they peel the bandaid off

after a big battle he’ll often volunteer for first watch, and stay up for second as well. he makes the excuse of needing to work on repairing tunics, but really it’s his anxiety going fucking apeshit.

they love listening to the others’ musical talents. they’re shit at instruments themself so they just sit there and enjoy the show whenever someone starts playing. and then of course Ages ratted on them being able to sing (Ravio had told him that she could during the war) and they were then promptly dragged into the shows

if it weren’t for Loft and their chronic fatigue Lorule would be the first to start snoozing almost every night

whenever the chain is in Lorule’s Hyrule and near Kakariko village, they’ll have dinner with the blacksmiths + Ravio

Wind, Wild, and Lorule band together to braid everyone’s hair. braid trains are a common thing to see during rests

there’s so much more but i can’t tell bc it spoils stuff so that’s it for now T.T sorry for typos

#i need to make one of these posts for all of them. i need y’all to understand how much i think abt these fellas.#hcau lorule #hcau ravio #bc he’s in here a lot lmao #hcau #hero’s call au #links meet au #ALSO. SORRY THIS TOOK ME SO LONG TO TYPE UP AHDKKDW #school was difficult for a moment there ahjakdka #listen man i got albw recently and it’s made developing lo so much easier. crazy ik #so many damn thoughts abt this guy swarming around in my mind like bees

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coffee-or-murder · 2 years

Note

For the 69 asks:

Daffodil: 7, 17, 31, 45

Zimri: 2, 18, 46, 63

Olly: 4, 10, 20, 52

Danya: 28, 47, 56, 66

Daffodil

7 - There’s a magic item made just for them–what is it?

Fantasy Instagram and a set of hand held stone slabs for her and her girlfriends to use it OR A rapier that has charges of entangle or plant growth, themed like a rose with a thorn coming out of the petals.

17 - They’re crying–what did it take to make them cry?

She broke the string on her citole, doesn’t have any replacements or a way to fix it, inspiration has struck, and she has no means to utilize it properly. Cue the waterworks OR Her grandniece finally passes, which would be a much more genuine cry but also much less dramatic. More of a quietly start flowers blooming at her grave and mourn the loss.

31 - Do they respond well to praise? How about criticism?

Daffodil quite enjoys praise, especially if it relates to her art or coming from her muses. Criticism should be applied in a compliment sandwich, or she may take it to heart and either withdraw that aspect of herself from the equation (if it’s her muses saying it) or find a way to ruin their week (if a stranger says it).

45 - What lies do they tell themselves?

“My time in the wilds and those otherworldly courts with all of its pleasures were wonderfully engaging and –while I do miss my father painfully– I do not regret my meandering path through those deep woody archways. In the end it brought me to my muses in a future I could not have conceived, and I would be poorer for not knowing them. My father was always going to die before me after all. This way at least I did not have to witness it myself.”

Zimri

2 - What was your original concept for this character? How did playing them change that concept?

Zimri hasn’t changed too terribly much personality wise! She’s always been a little dramatic and bougie, never shied away from using her natural assets to get what she wanted, etc. Originally her goal was to raise an army by gathering powerful people to free that man she loved from his father the archduke and his corrupt rule, and save her not-dad from having to follow the orders to hunt her down. Playing her made me rethink that idea a bit, and I haven’t totally settled on what I want from her backstory. Zimri is Under Renovations for now.

18 - What dish brings back the best memories for them?

The poor attempt at curry her patron and basically father Avi would make from time to time. As a duke he wasn’t well versed in cooking, but he would always make a plate for him and Zimri after a particularly long day. Zimri rarely ever ate all of it but the smell of mediocre curry still makes her think of him.

46 - Have they taught themselves any skills just for fun?

I like to think at some point down the line Zimri would have taught herself some basic sewing skills, mostly so she can alter her own clothes a bit. Otherwise all of her skills are for survival.

63 - What's a meme or tiktok or vine (or whatever) that you associate with them?

Olly

4 - What one person, place, or thing do they love more then anything else?

Person - Top five favorite people who all come in first place are Danya, Eden, Tsisa, Lemon, and Benji (his sisters, favorite cousin his age, favorite little cousin/baker, and his father figure) and you can’t make him choose.

Place - The hives on Danya’s land OR Rosalind’s sprawling gardens.

Thing - His bees. He loves those little bees.

10 - What inspired this character's creation?

He started out as a mix between Squidward from Spongebob, Spencer from ICarly, and Coach Finstock from Teen Wolf. I knew I wanted to make the cousin that ran the bakery/cafe Lemon, and Olly was a great fit for the role of a tired grumpy secretly very soft bakery manager.

20 - What attracts them to someone–platonically and/or romantically, anything counts.

Platonically he tends to be drawn to people who are either a bit quiet or broody –because this man is a caretaker under all the grump– or able to match his occasional shit shitting mood with their own. Of course a good sense of humor goes a long way too. He doesn’t have much of a physical preference for his romantic partners, so it’s mostly down to vibes with Olly. Kindness and humor are the things that make him take notice of someone, then if he teases them and they either get flustered, tease back, or even better argue he’s caught. Why he likes kind of bossy goody types he’ll never know.

52 -How would they dress themselves for a formal event?

A well tailored suit with bee and magnolia accents as either lapel pins, cufflinks, or a wristwatch. Nice shiny but flexible leather shoes he’s scored the bottoms of for better grip.

Danya

28 - Do they collect anything?

Anytime anyone brings her flowers she presses a couple of each type of bloom in books in her private office, a habit she picked up from Doran. Danya also quite likes collecting books in general, and has the second largest library outside of Rosalind’s in the main estate house.

47 - What could they talk about for hours on end?

Law. It would be a bit dry, but she could lecture for hours on legal processes and functions in The United Shires, how they were brought about, and how they differ between the five shires. Unfortunately she isn’t particularly talkative in the first place, so anything she would talk about at length would just be a lecture. She would much rather have someone else do the talking.

56 - Who would they trust with their life, unequivocally?

Eden, Olly, Benji, or Doran. If her adoptive mother was still alive she would also be on the list but she’s passed.

66 - Which fruit do they like most?

She is quite fond of yellow pears or pomegranates. Baked pears are one of her favorite desserts.

#daffodil dnd #dnd daffodil #dnd zimri #zimri dnd #dnd olly #olly dnd #dnd danya #danya dnd

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randoimago · 3 years

Note

Matching Anime couples costumes with the P5 boys? (Bonus if Joker is in a Lelouch costume and reader is C.C)

Matching Anime Costumes

FANDOM: Persona 5

Character(s): Akira Kurusu, Ryuji Sakamoto, Yusuke Kitagawa

Mentioned Character(s): Light Yagami (death note), L Lawliet (death note), Shinra Kishitani (durarara), Celty Sturluson (durarara), Kyo Sohma (fruits basket), Tohru Honda (fruits basket), Usagi Tsukino (sailor moon), Mamoru Chiba (sailor moon)

Type of Request: Halloween 🎃

Word Count: 446

Note(s): I know nothing about Code Geass except the name Lelouch so I don't think I'll be getting those Bonus points xD

Akira

You came up with the idea of dressing up like anime characters with him. He was intrigued because he likes anime. There’s quite a bit of sitting and planning out who to go as.

Originally wanted to go as L from Death Note but considering you wanted to go in couple costumes, he decided against it.

I mean, if anyone would dress as Light it’d be Akechi and not you. You can’t help but snicker at the thought.

Ends up going as Shinra from Durarara and you can be his Celty. It seems like a good match to him considering he can be a goofy, lovestruck idiot just like Shinra.

Also, the outfits are fairly simple to get too. So you both don’t have to spend too much money to make/buy them! He thinks it’s a win/win.

Ryuji

You bring up the idea of anime couple costumes and Ryuji doesn’t mind. Probably gets a bit flustered at the idea of going in couple costumes.

He honestly can’t decide on who to go as because he doesn’t want to have an itchy wig or some outfit that’s too expensive since this’ll be the only time he wears it.

Let’s you decide on the couples costumes because it hurts his head too much to try and think of who to go as. There’s too many options and he’s picky.

So you decide to go as Kyo and Tohru from Fruits Basket. Ryuji probably has no idea who that couple is but agrees when you show him a photo of Kyo (leaving out the fact that he’s a hothead like Ryuji).

The costumes are simple enough and Ryuji finds himself enjoying the look.

Yusuke

Wants to go as Sailor Moon and Tuxedo Mask. It’s an old couple that so many love and also the aesthetics that can be brought out in the outfits are up his alley.

Of course the outfits could be a bit much considering the outfits themselves are probably a bit costly and Yusuke doesn’t have money.

Painting is where Yusuke thrives in the art department, but he will try to hone some sewing skills to see if he can just make designs on the outfits instead.

You do suggest looking into other, less costly outfits but Yusuke declines. He has his heart set on this pairing and so it is going to happen.

Okay but if the time comes to present each other your costumes and you step out in a wedding dress then Yusuke is going to blush so much but also be so happy. He doesn’t have money for a ring right now, but you can bet he will be saving up.

#persona 5 x reader #ryuji x reader #ryuji sakamoto #ryuji sakamoto x reader #yusuke kitawaga #yusuke x reader #yusuke kitagawa x reader #akira kurusu x reader #akira kurusu #spooky season asks

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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!

Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter

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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filterjeons · 4 years

Text

only you | kth

✦ pairing: kim taehyung x reader

✦ summary: you didn’t like getting jealous but it was hard not to, especially since taehyung is the man of every girl’s dreams. luckily, he convinces you that he has his eyes for only you

✦ rating: M, not suitable for minors

✦ genre: smut

✦ word count: 10.4k

✦ warnings: hard dom!tae, dirty talk, rough sex, degradation, spanking w paddle, orgasm denial, usage of toys (vibrator and anal beads), oral (m and f receiving), handcuffs, daddy kink, sadism/masochism, cumplay??, hand kink, aftercare 🥰, poor y/n acting bratty 😔, slight slight angst (nearly non-existent), yeri and joy being my spirit animals, and cute ending <3 (tf was that warnings list….n e ways)

You scoff at your boyfriend talking excitedly with your co-worker Irene about an art museum that opened up downtown. As you swirl your straw into the whipped cream of your strawberry milkshake, you mentally kick yourself at your look for a hang-out with your friends. The light blue dress was no match for Irene’s more mature pantsuit which suited her body well. What’s worse was you wore your iconic pigtails, instantly making you look like a child compared to everyone else’s more sophisticated clothes. Even Taehyung, who was just wearing a black T-shirt that fits his form well and beige pants, looked ten times better than you.

You typically have a lot of self-confidence because after years of being bullied for looking like an elementary schooler, you didn’t have time to mope about yourself and you slowly started to not care anymore but today you feel it all goes down the drain.

“I think Van Gogh’s art is one of my favorites because…” you drown out their conversation and place your head on your hands with annoyance etched all over your face.

“What’s wrong, Y/N~?” Yeri teases, shaking you affectionately. You only grunt in response, which made your close friend giggle. “Is it that time of the month again?” You nod (although it was a lie) as you keep staring at Taehyung and Irene, feeling your stomach do somersaults whenever you see them laugh. Although Taehyung had an intimidating demeanor, he was very sweet and made friends easily. Good for him, since he could make friends with the entire town if he tried. Unfortunately for you, he was prone to many girls being drawn to him like a moth to light and constantly asking for his number, only to give you looks of disgust once they found out that you were his girlfriend.

Why is he dating some girl who looks like a high school freshman?

Are you sure she’s 20? She looks like a 14 year old!

You absolutely hated that you were treated as a child. The looks you received whenever you walked down the street with Tae already made you feel uncomfortable. You knew you were never good enough and you were terrified that he’ll leave you for someone else, causing your jealous tendencies to kick in. There were plenty of fish in the sea and yet he chose you. You were surprised that he hasn’t broken up with you for your much hotter senior Irene.

Irene and you just strictly had a professional relationship, especially since she was above you in the workplace, and the only person she had a crush on is Kang Seulgi, the founder of a local dance studio near the building where you work. After your work shifts, you would sometimes stop by and watch kids train to be artists, reminding you of the dreams you once had when you were young.

Although you would give anything to be on a stage performing for millions of fans, you were content with your job as a fashion designer and be with your boyfriend who’s such a big flirt.

“Did anyone tell you that you look like a 6th grader because you’re short and have no boobs?” your other friend Joy cackles, finding your annoyed reactions a source of comedy. Yeri chimes in with the harassment as they continuously made fun of your stature. You immediately throw French fries from Taehyung’s plate at them, embarrassment and anger bubbling inside you from the all-too-familiar teasing. It was different because you were close to Joy and Yeri but it still hurts as they were much more beautiful than you. You couldn’t compare to any of the sexier and mature girls and you didn’t like that way.

“Aww, don’t say that! She’s still very gorgeous to me and trust me, her boobs are nice,” Taehyung smiled, placing your head on your shoulder. You relished in his praise before realizing that you were mad at him as you immediately pull your head up and look away from him. He looks back at you with confusion on why you were acting that way. Maybe something happened at work or you’re just having a bad day, but he wants to help you in the best way that he can.

“TMI, man!” Yeri gagged dramatically, Joy following suit as they started to goof around. You would join them but you were still upset. Irene liked girls and Taehyung only had eyes for you so why were you so jealous? Despite your constant second-guessing, your heart was set that you were mad at him, even though the reason was extremely childish. Irene softly chuckled at you three before turning Taehyung’s attention back on her.

“So, would you like to go to the museum with me sometime?” Irene asked calmly, somehow acting like nothing’s going on. Your insides were fuming, knowing that he’ll say yes because of how sweet he was. You grip Taehyung’s hand, trying to signal him to refuse but when his head bobbed up and down, you knew it was no use.

“Yeah sure, let me know what time you’d like to go!” he smiled politely to which Irene returned the same

Oh no he didn’t. Not only will the town gossip think that your boyfriend dumped you for Irene but what if he starts to have feelings for her and throw you away? If there was one thing you loved the most in the world, it was Taehyung and you just weren’t ready to let him go.

You’re acting so stupid. It’s just a normal friendly hangout- Despite your head’s protest, you got up dramatically and glared at the two of them.

“Uh y’know what, I’m going to go home now. Irene, I’ll email you the designs for the future lineup and Taehyung, I hope you have fun hanging out at the museum or whatever. If you ever need me, I’ll be in my room by myself and I don’t want you near me,” you spat, immediately getting up and storming out of the diner. You knew you were acting extremely immature and some part of you regret it but how come he doesn’t like it when you interact with your guy friends but it doesn’t work the other way around?

“Y/N sweetie-” he tried to go after you but you were already out of the door. He sighed with frustration, annoyed that he didn’t get to explain his side.

“I think we should cancel since your girlfriend’s upset. I’m sorry, it was wrong for me to ask you to hang out and I know that we see each other as friends only. I just wanted to ask you because I was thinking about taking Seulgi there and she really likes art plus I figured Y/N would enjoy that kind of date,” Irene sighed, regret forming in her eyes.

“It’s okay, it’s not your fault. I’ll talk to her, she’ll understand once she hears the full story.” Taehyung bids the girls farewell and runs after you. Irene gives him a nod as Joy and Yeri sit uncomfortably.

“Well, who’s gonna pay the bill?” Yeri shrugged and all eyes were immediately on Irene, who only replied with an eye roll.

You refused to come out of your room for the rest of the day, still holding onto that grudge. Taehyung was getting annoyed at your lack of communication, he initially tried to get in by baking your favorite cookies but you didn't budge. You didn’t like ignoring Taehyung as well and you would rather be in his arms instead of sewing dresses for work but your petty heart didn’t want to let go.

You tried reasoning with yourself but once you’re set on something, you can’t get yourself to go the other way. As you stitch pieces of fabric together, the temptation grows even more.

Eventually, you couldn’t be cooped up in your room forever so as you sneakily made your way down to your kitchen to get some of Taehyung’s cookies (although he didn’t know how to put on an apron, he was an amazing baker), you felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist and his body behind yours. You gasped at the shock as his low chuckle vibrated against your back.

“Got you baby!” he grinned, hugging you tightly. You wanted to melt yourself into his embrace and beg for his forgiveness but a part of you wanted to prolong the chase and continue to be a brat because inside that sweetheart is a scary hard dom, and you wanted to see him turn aggressive. His duality always kills you and as much as you love being sweet and soft with him, his dominant aura is always your favorite.

“Leave me alone,” you grumbled, trying to push him off but he still kept on, even when you’re trying to go back to your room.

“I’m not going to let you go~,” he said in a sing-song voice, clinging onto your back like a koala. You debated to yourself if you wanted to do this and on a whim, you did what would be one of the scariest things in your life.

“Leave me the fuck alone! Go away, I-” you growled, using your force to push him out and that’s when you immediately knew you fucked up.

“Go on, repeat those fucking words,” Taehyung’s voice suddenly dropped extremely low, thanks to him being a baritone as he turned your shoulders around to face him. His eyes were now filled with anger and lust and you felt sweat dripping down your back, you knew you were in trouble.

“I-I-” you couldn’t find the courage to talk, your heart was pounding against your chest and you knew that you can’t make a comeback so you immediately got into your submissive position on your knees, fear evident in your face.

“I’m sorry, Daddy! I-I didn’t mean it-” you blubbered, knowing that he’s not going to go easy on you tonight and you were terrified of what was to come.

Taehyung only scoffed and pulled you up, dragging you into your shared bedroom by your hair and manhandling you onto your bed on all fours. You felt your heartbeat a billion times faster and you tried sticking your ass out to feel him but to your dismay, there wasn’t his familiar warmth. He was on the other side of the room, going through the black box in his closet that kept all of your toys. You tried decorating it to at least make the outside look cute but it still looks intimidating inside and out.

“You’ve been such a brat today and it made Daddy so fucking angry. Now tell me baby girl, why am I mad at you?”

“U-um, I was jealous towards Irene, I was overreacting, I didn’t talk to you about it, and I was a meanie bitch and ignoring you.” “Do you wanna know why Irene asked me out that time? She wanted to go because she was thinking about taking Seulgi on her first date there and she asked me to visit it with her to see if you might be interested in going with me sometime. I assume you already know that Irene liked girls but you were jealous for what? Do you not believe me when I say I love you everyday?” You felt your heart drop to your chest as you started to cry with embarrassment and shame on how you acted. You definitely shouldn’t have stormed out without an explanation and here you are paying the price for it.

“I-I’m sor-” “I’m not accepting any apology from you tonight because it’s my turn to be mad. Don’t think you’re getting a break tonight because the only way to make up for what you did today is to take everything that I give you. Are you going to obey or be the naughty slut that you’re always are?” he suddenly appeared next to you and growled deep into your ear, nibbling your earlobe. You nodded quickly, your panties slowly becoming wet as butterflies started to fill your stomach.

He felt your panties underneath your dress and scoffed at the slick coming out. “Stupid fuckslut likes that? Of course she does because she’ll do anything just to get a cock stuffed inside her. What a shame, I thought you were a good girl but I guess I was wrong. You’re just a dumb little baby.” You mewled quietly at his degradation, his voice was cold and cruel but it was such a turn on.

“What’s the safe word, honey?” “S-star-” “Alright then, fifty slaps with no exceptions. Don’t think you can bargain with me baby because I’m not going any lower,” he snarled, tearing your flimsy panties off and massaging your ass cheeks to prepare you for what’s going to come, a small act of kindness in comparison to his terrifying aura. “Count bitch.”

You braced yourself for the sharp hit but instead of his familiar calloused hand, your ass was met with a harder sting that immediately turned your flesh red. You widen your eyes as you piece together what’s happening. Although Taehyung bought a paddle long ago, he never had any reason to use it but today was the day because of your bratty behavior.

After that slap, it was hard for you to talk due to how sudden the hit was. Tears were threatening to fall down your face as you tried to take in the spank.

“Did I fucking stutter? I said count,” he said sternly, hitting you again and snapping you out of your daze.

“O-oh, one!” you cried, your ass hurting from the force of the paddle. What’s worse is that it’s a wooden one, leaving your marks and bruises for the next day. Although it’s the weekend, you were sure that you’re not going to sit properly for a whole week. Then again, have you ever sat normally whenever Taehyung fucks you? Meanwhile, Taehyung is completely enjoying the red and purple bruises that are forming in your skin as he hits all of his frustration at your behavior to your ass. It sounds completely wrong but the way your body reacts to the paddle and your choked moans and whimpers of pain is just a turn on to him. He never knew he liked having you act like this until he put you in this position, giving him all of the control. His pants started to tighten as he thinks about you attempting to walk or sit down after he’s done with you.

You stifle in sobs as you called out numbers following the hits you received. Despite the absolute pain you felt, you could feel even more slick coming down your thighs as he continues to smack the back of your thighs and your ass. Even though a part of you is chiding you for finding some pleasure in being hurt like this, you liked the pain nonetheless.

Apparently, your arousal couldn’t be more obvious because as he reached the halfway point of his 50 spanks, he started to notice how wet your pussy was.

“Wow, you fucking slut, you seem to be enjoying this huh? Does it turn you on? Does being in pain get you off?” he mocked, your heart taking his words sensitively. You let out a shaky moan, nodding with pleasure flowing through your body.

“Well lucky for you because I like this as well. Honestly, I like it too much if I’m being completely honest.” You were shocked at his confession, trying to consume the fact that your sweetheart boyfriend actually liked hurting you. It was definitely a surprise but for some sick reason, it was such a turn on. Hey, maybe you two were truly meant for each other because you liked the pain that he gave you. However, that statement was a distraction from your current situation at hand. He started to slam the paddle faster, the pain hurting 10 times more and you swore that there will be splinters by tomorrow. You let out screams and higher-pitched moans from the impact, covering your face with your pillow to somehow relieve you from his actions.

“Did you want to piss me off? Were you that much of a horny bitch that you’ll do anything to have my big cock stuffed inside you? No, I don’t have to ask that because I know you do. You’re aching in that tight little pussy from my words, huh? Even though you’re lowkey scared of it, you’re getting wet from the spanking. Stupid little cockwhore.” You could nearly cum from his cruel words, his deep and raspy voice talking to you as if you’re inferior to him. You could barely form words now as you just drooled and babbled on the pillow.

He landed the last two hits on the back of your thighs and the top of your ass respectively. Just for the fun and pleasure for him, he gave you an additional slap with his hand and giggled at your sobs from the surprise.

“Jesus, that was so hot. I nearly jizzed in my pants thanks to you. Seeing you in pain is such a turn on,” Taehyung muttered, sitting next to you on the bed and facing you towards him. He mockingly pouted at your sniffling face, wiping away the tears that were splattered around your cheeks.

“Are you okay? Did I go too hard?” he asked with concern, a complete 180 from what he was before as he gave you small kisses on your face. You found it so sweet how as much as he likes punishing you, he still cares so much about your safety because he is your boyfriend after all. Although the spanking was intense, you weren’t in danger and everything was consented.

“Daddy...I’m okay,” you croaked, trying to nuzzle your face in the crook of your neck and although his eyes showed some warmth, his face turned expressionless after a minute of checking up on you.

“Did you learn your lesson yet?”

You knew that this was like child’s play to him and he can go longer. Even though you were kind of nervous, you wanted him to snap and show his scarier side. You shook your head in response to his question, starting to revert back to your bratty self. “Well, that was nothing. I don’t know if you can handle me but it didn’t work.” Taehyung obviously didn't believe you, judging from the look in your eyes and your quick movements that you were clearly affected by the spanking. He also knew that you were lying right out of your teeth and you want him to put you in your place. Obviously, it’s what he’s going to do. He’s going to make you learn your lesson no matter how much you’re going to act up because a fact that Kim Taehyung knows is that there’s no better brat-tamer than him.

“Hmm, I don’t think I can forgive you yet because you’re still lying like dumb little girls do when they want something. How sad, I guess you’re going to need more punishments until I get that attitude out of you,” he says, feigning disappointment in his tone.

You felt your heart dance at his words before realizing that he has more in mind than the spanking. You whimper at his words and he rolled his eyes at you, knowing how much you’re enjoying this.

All of a sudden, he ripped off your dress like it was nothing, the now ruined fabric fluttering lifelessly towards the ground. How was he able to tear it apart like that? Has he been working out?, you thought, especially since you swore that the dress was hard to tear. You whined at what he did, especially since it was a staple part of your wardrobe and one of your favorites. However, he didn’t care about your reactions as he easily snapped your bra into two pieces, throwing the destroyed material in some corner of the room.

A wave of embarrassment ran through your body at the fact that you were completely bare and he was still clothed. You tried to cover your chest but it was no use as he forcefully pulled your arms away, exposing your breasts to him.

“Your body is so beautiful, don’t be shy,” he crooned, playing with your nipples and flicking the sensitive bud. Taehyung’s face went up to your neck, kissing your sensitive spots and sucking on it to make hickeys. “But they’d look more gorgeous with my marks, huh?” You let out a shaky moan, already turned on by his ministrations and the ache between your legs growing worse but to your dismay, he ended there and got off of the bed. Disappointed at his sudden stop, you started to whine and thrash among the sheets but a sharp glare from him had you obey instantly.

“Stay there baby girl, you’re definitely not off the hook,” he sighed, walking back to the black box to retrieve some of the toys. You inhaled a shaky breath, nervous on what’s going to happen. You tried to peer behind his broad back to see what he picked up but you could only hear his sinister chuckle instead.

“D-daddy, what are we gonna be using?” you squeaked, hating the obvious fear in your voice because he knows that you’re nervous about what he’s going to do and use it to your advantage. Your boyfriend comes back and throws a bunch of toys on the bed, each one somehow being more intense than the previous. The handcuffs and vibrator were easily familiar to you as you’ve used them before but the last toy was what caught your attention the most.

Anal beads?! He’s absolutely insane!, you internally screamed, staring at him with wide eyes while he brought a bottle of strawberry lube on the nightstand. It wasn’t like you were scared of it or anything, it was just so surprising that he’s going to use it on you now. You’ve heard about them from Joy who said that although the feeling was strange at first, it felt good later on and you took her word in mind. Now that the toy was out in the open, it reminded you of when you saw it in the box while you were searching for your sewing kit and talked to Taehyung about it. While you both decided that you’ll wait a bit until there was a time where it’ll be used, you never thought it would happen now (but you sort of understand as you are getting punished now).

“Are you ready honey? Is this okay?” he asked gently, rubbing your back to calm you down. You nodded, slowly feeling your nerves go away after some reassurance.

“What about you? Do you think you’re ready?” you sassed back, the all-too familiar bratty attitude showing. “Oh, you wanna play that game? I’m just worried because you can barely take my dick but since you’ve been too naughty, you’re gonna take it like a good girl,” he teased, a blush forming in your cheeks as he settled you down on all fours. Compared to your height and Taehyung’s, he was obviously huge under his pants and although you liked getting dicked down until the next day, the aftermath is definitely not that pleasurable.

You instructed yourself to take deep breaths, bracing yourself for the toy.

“You ready, kitten?” he called out from behind and you nodded rapidly, wanting to get it over with as soon as possible. All of a sudden you felt the first bead ram inside you, making you feel sparks of pleasure. “That’s my good girl.”

Luckily, there were a total of three beads for a start since it was your first time but the first one already felt huge. Maybe it’s due to your inability to take big stuff well but you were terrified on the other two that are twice as big.

“O-oh my god...I-“ you gasped out, trying to accommodate the small sphere into your hole.

“Why are you acting like it’s too much for you? Come on, I know you can take more than that,” he chided playfully, lubing the second bead to insert it inside you.

“I-I- don’t know if I can!”

“Shh, you want Daddy to forgive you right? You’re my big girl, it’ll be alright.”

You let out a whine as the second was inserted, making you feel full already. Taehyung thumbs at your hole soothingly to try to make you less worried and to make the bead more comfortable in you.

He observes your state right now: your face red from the stimulation and smothered on the plush pillows, your body was bent to display your gaping hole, and your walls fluttering around the pink bead to accommodate the intrusion. Your position was just enough to make his pants feel increasingly tight and uncomfortable.

“Damn, you look so sexy,” he murmured, his praise making you feel good and embarrassed at the same time.

“One more sweetie, one more.” That was the sentence that had you in fear. Surely two beads was enough for you, it’s gonna be hard for you to take the full thing!

“Daddy, i-it’s too much! I don’t think I can handle it!” you cried but the pillow muffled your words.

“You got this, you’ve been a good girl so far,” Taehyung coos, tapping the end of the bead that was currently in you to tease you. With his praise in mind, you decided to go through it as you tried to spread your legs and push your ass out even more to make the last bead more comfortable in you.

Luckily, he was kind enough to add a large amount of lube to make it less painful while toying with the end of the previous one inside you.

You focused on relaxing yourself so that you’re not tense and reveled in his gentle motions against you. After one more, it’ll all be over, right?

“Good girl, you’ve been such a good girl for me. One more, okay?”

He slowly inserted the last bead, watching your hole attempt to expand and take it in. You let out a squeal, trying to fit it inside. Your boyfriend watches your fluttering walls straining around the pink toy as it stretches to fit it in alongside the other beads. Eventually, you made it fit with the aftermath of being completely plugged up in your behind.

“Hah~ oh, s-so big,” you moaned, trying so hard to fit the beads inside you. Your nerves were on fire, the toy giving you new sensations you never knew you could feel. It didn’t hurt but you felt full despite only being three spheres.

“That’s my good girl,” Taehyung sighed with content, tapping the end of the last bead to slowly push it inside you by centimeter.

“Daddy, it’s too much! I-I-I don’t think I can do it, it’s too big-“

With one quick motion, Taehyung flipped you on your back and you felt the beads push deeper in your hole, hitting your spots.

“Aww, my little slut can’t take it? Is she too sensitive? Such a little baby, you look so cute in this position, especially since you’re so sensitive!” Taehyung cooed as you let out broken moans due to the overwhelming pleasure. “You’re lucky that I’m not that mad as I was before. Keep those beads in you until I decide when I want to take them out.”

You nodded blankly, his words barely registering in your hazy mind. You didn’t know how much longer you can to, especially since Taehyung sounds like he wants to fuck you stupid.

“Hey, you okay?” he asked softly, waving a hand over your face. Quickly snapping out of your daze, you nodded and tried to snuggle up towards him. He laughed at the cute action, playing along with the simple moment until he brought out a pair of handcuffs in front of your face. Yup, you’re still in trouble, you sighed to yourself, forgetting about why he’s acting that way.

“It’s not the furry ones?” you pouted, blatantly swallowing at the hard metal.

“You’ve done too much to even think about getting the soft ones. It’s okay, you won’t feel the pain once I make you feel good.” Obediently, you brought out your wrists without him asking and he attached the cuffs within a second. Surprisingly, he gave you a kiss on the cheek and patted your head affectionately, your all-too familiar kind boyfriend emerging for a split-second.

“You’ve been a good girl so far, keep it up and maybe your punishment will end quickly,” he murmured, massaging your sides and spreading your legs apart. You felt him kiss the inside of your thighs and kitty-licking your slit, the teasing immediately turning you on even more.

“T-tae,” Although he was barely doing anything, you already felt even more sensitive especially with the anal beads inside you. You wanted to tug on his dark black locks, at least clutching onto a part of his body, but the handcuffs made it impossible to. It wasn’t even chained to the bed but it was no use fighting against it.

Taehyung could sense how impatient you were, your hips thrusting up uncontrollably to try to at least have some more movement inside your aching pussy. He chuckled to himself at how he made you instantly want him but since he’s in charge, he gets to decide whether or not to pleasure you.

“Shh, only patient little girls get what they want. What’s the magic word?”

Is he seriously doing this right now?, you thought but you immediately answered the question, desperate to at least have something. It must’ve been obvious how needy you’ve gotten because Taehyung’s long slender fingers were inserted in you with no warning.

You let out a shaky moan, your cunt immediately clenching around his fingers as he pushed them in and out at a quick pace. Your brain was completely fried as you couldn’t think or say anything except the feeling of euphoria you were in. Despite having his fingers inside you before, it felt more sensitive and pleasurable this time and you were ready to cum.

Unfortunately for you, he pulled his hand away from your needy pussy despite your attempts to trap it with your thighs. You started to whine and kick from the denial, upset that you didn’t get to finish.

“Calm down, we haven’t gotten to the real fun yet. You’ll be my good girl, right?” he said calmly, reaching over for the vibrator and inserting the batteries in. Normally, the pink toy didn’t have an effect on you because you used it numerous times while Tae was gone but for some reason, you felt nervous as if it was your first time using toys. You absolutely knew he was going to edge the hell out of you and although it was not that pleasurable for you, the build-up to your orgasm only for it to be cut away is a source of entertainment for him.

But since you’ve been consistently good ever since he put in the anal beads, you were hoping that he’d let you come this time.

You felt the head of the vibrator rub against your folds, the moisture slowly gathering onto the tip and the sheets. It was currently at the lowest speed and you were aching for it to be filled inside you. The buzzing of the toy was the only sound that rang out in the room and Taehyung didn’t say a word but his expression told you about what he’s going to do.

All of a sudden, he suddenly inserted the vibrator inside you, the sudden intrusion igniting a small fire inside your body as it tries to take in the sensation. Even though the feeling shouldn’t be completely new to you, you felt overly sensitive like it was your first time.

“T-tae, oh my god. I-i, oh...” you moaned lightly, wanting to feel a part of him but he prevented that from happening. Knowing the effect that he had on you, Taehyung slowly started to peel off his shirt due to the increasing temperature in the bedroom. With his tanned skin and toned stomach on display, the temptation of wanting to break free from the handcuffs was just too much.

“Da..daddy...please…”

“Yeah? Does it feel good? Are you glad you finally had something in that slutty cunt?” he taunted, turning the vibration up to the highest. The switch in level made you clench around the toy tightly, slick coming out of your system rapidly. He aimed the head to your clit, making the sensation feeling even better and getting you near your orgasm.

Your body felt like it was on fire as you didn’t know where to focus yourself on. Since Taehyung restricted you from grabbing onto something to settle yourself, it just felt like you were in a different headspace. The amount of pullings you did onto the handcuffs are going to leave marks on your wrists but honestly, it was the least of your concerns at this point.

He suddenly removes the wand from your clenching pussy, hovering it around your folds as you leave more slick from the slight movement the vibrator had on you despite not completely being inside you. Your juices were drenching onto the bedsheets and his hand and a part of you felt embarrassed but if Taehyung had no shame, neither then you.

“Do you want something inside you? Does your cute little pussy want to be filled up?” he said darkly, waving his long and slender fingers in front of your face. He absolutely knows how much you love his fingers, at least 3 of them filling you up well.

“Y-yes daddy, mmph, p-please fill me up with your long, oh god, fingers…” you purred, your eyes drooping from how much pleasure you’re receiving.

“Keep your eyes up babygirl, I want you to stare at me while I make you feel good.” Taehyung aligns the head against your clit again as he inserted one of his fingers inside. The action caused you to let out a small scream, your body starting to shake on how much he’s doing to you.

“T-Taehyung-” “Is that my name?” “I’m sorry, D-daddy! I-i-it’s so much, I don’t know if I can take it!” you whimpered, your juices coming out of you at an increasingly fast rate and your hands pathetically thrashing onto the restrains.

“Yeah? My little baby can take it, this is nothing isn’t it?” he smirks, adding two more fingers to completely stretch your walls out. You felt yourself jolt from the increased action, tears starting to form at the corner of your eyes.

“Da..daddy, shit, shit, oh, it’s so much, I, I,” you mewled, your body in cloud nine as you try to form sentences in your brain. Although you didn’t talk much, your moans and whimpers were music to his ears as Taehyung was satisfied with himself that he got you in this way.

“Aww, it’s too much? Too bad, you know you want more than a vibrator. I know you’re dying for me to pound this tiny little pussy with my big fat cock. You want to feel my dick deep inside your stomach and try to keep my cum inside you, huh? Do you want that, you little fucktoy?”

You didn’t know how he could read you like a book but it was what you wanted nonetheless. A flash of pink flew across the room before hitting against the wall, the identity being the vibrator that Taehyung was using on you a few minutes ago. Although you could still feel his fingers pump inside you, your clit was instead covered by his mouth.

“Ahh! Oh my god, oh my god! Daddy!” you shrieked, your attention being directed on him. He swirls the bud with the flat of his tongue and occasionally flicked it to help send you off. Surprisingly, his fingers were still moving as well and you felt them hit the spongy texture of your g-spot, your body reacting to the sensation sensitively.

You felt the all-too familiar knot in your stomach, signalling your orgasm. With the insane amount of pleasure, he would be too cruel to deny it. With your mind becoming absolutely hazy, the last thought you had was to finally release.

Unfortunately, your thoughts weren’t answered because after a few more pumps, he immediately pulled his fingers out and his mouth was nowhere to be found on your clit.

“Do you think I’m gonna let you cum? I don’t think so,” he mocked, sucking off the liquids and watching your body thrash against the bed from the denial.

“Wh-what? Why? Why?” you whined loudly, the build-up fading away and your mind was back to the present. Of course he wasn’t going to let you cum right away despite how good you were because it was still a punishment.

“Because I said so,” he stated in a matter-of-fact way, mesmerized at your body’s reactions.

“But I’ve been good! I obeyed when you put in the anal beads-” “That’s not enough though.”

“What the actual hell? You’re such a dick!” you muttered angrily, trying to catch yourself from the denial. Although it was pretty quiet, Taehyung’s ears picked it up and he was definitely not happy with what you said.

“What the fuck did you say?” he growled, placing himself next to you and choking your throat with just enough force that was typical whenever you were acting up. You gasped at the lack of oxygen as you tried to form an excuse.

“I-I’m sorry-” “Shut up. I thought I fucked the attitude out of you but I guess you still need to be taught a lesson. You’ve been using your bratty mouth too much, perhaps you’ll learn how to silence yourself with my cock inside it,” he snarled, standing up to remove his pants and boxers, the outline of his dick already making you hot and bothered.

Although you’ve been living with your boyfriend for a long time now, his dick size never fails to impress you. Unfortunately, it means that he’s not going to have mercy on you, especially since you pissed him off.

“I thought you were going to be a good girl but you just love acting up, do you? Do you like being a stupid slut? Did my little girl grow up to be a dumb brat?” he scoffed, pulling down his undergarments to reveal his huge cock, the tip hitting his belly button area before standing up proudly. You felt your mouth water at his size, wanting to take the whole thing inside you.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Are you going to obey like a good baby or are you going to keep on talking with that bratty little voice?” he snapped, taking you out of your gazing. You nodded obediently, not saying a word otherwise you would get in even more trouble. Taehyung stroked his cock for a bit, the pre-cum acting as lube to make it easier for you to swallow.

Once his tip was placed in front of your lips, you immediately opened and took his length inside you, trying to fit as much as you can. Normally, you could suck a good half but since you’re on thin ice from your behavior, he’s definitely going to make you take the whole thing. Hearing his low husky moans made you feel better, knowing that you’re at least doing it right.

You could feel him inch deeper inside you until you were nose deep between his balls. Taehyung’s head was thrown back and sweat was dripping down his face as his tip went past your gag reflex, the warm and wet sensation making the feeling extremely sensational.

“D-addy, do you want me to-” you garbled, trying to form words but they came out as mostly gibberish due to the amount in your throat.

“Choke on it, slut.” He starts to thrust forwards and backwards at a fast pace, one that you’re not accustomed to. Due to his length being too much for you to handle, you felt a long stream of tears flow down your cheeks as you try to hollow your throat to accommodate him.

“God, that feels so good. Finally my little baby is using her mouth for something good,” he grunts, placing his hands on your shoulders to thrust quicker. The low moans and growls he makes while you suck his dick turns you on, the all-too familiar ache between your legs building up again. “Do you like gagging on my cock baby girl?” You let out a nod which only made your breathing harder so you instructed yourself to breathe through your nose. Taehyung wasn’t looking empathetic for now as he smiled sadistically while chasing his own high.

With your face being near the base of his cock and your jaw slacked to attempt to take him and make it easier for you, you truly thought he was cruel for making you take him whole. Hearing your little gags and garbles starts to make him go faster as he thrusts in and out of your mouth at an inhuman-like pace while you try to suck on him better to get more of his reactions.

“God, you look so fucking hot like this. Your mouth feels so so good, I’m gonna cum,” he gasps, your little whimpers vibrating against the underside of his shaft. You felt a line of saliva flow down the corner of your mouth as your throat starts to close around his dick.

“Gonna cum, yeah fuck baby, I’m gonna cum,” he chants, his thrusts slowing down and after a loud moan of your name, his hot and sticky liquid spurted down your throat. You decided to take it down your throat, slowly sucking on it to clean his seed from his dick as he gently took it out from your mouth. With the length removed, you let out a deep gasp of breath as you struggled to breathe properly.

“Whoa, baby, are you okay?” he asked, patting your back gently in an attempt to help you breathe. After a few minutes of clearing your throat, you nodded while wincing from the ache from the back of your throat.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine. I’ll be okay,” you gasped, slowly breathing in and out.

“Good,” he beamed before turning back into his dominant self. However, instead of the coldness that he showed you before, his eyes are more playful and loving. “Did you learn your lesson?” You nodded weakly, cuddling your face against his chest. “I did, I’m extremely sorry Daddy! I didn’t mean to say that.” He pretended to think deeply as if he wanted to accept your apology or not. You prayed that he does because you’ve already been punished enough.

“It’s okay baby, I forgive you,” he smiled, his iconic box smile popping up on his sunshine-like face. “But know that I’ll always be yours, no matter what and I hope the same for you.” “Duh, now shut up and kiss me,” you snarked and although he rolled his eyes at your abrasive personality, he complied anyways.

“Hold on, let me take your toys off,” he sighed, unlocking the handcuffs and bending you over to remove the anal beads. You moan from the movement as you’ve gotten accustomed to the toy inside you. You watch intently as he carefully places them on the nightstand to disinfect later and carries you to the bed. “You ready for my dick, baby girl?” His tip was placed against your folds, teasing you slowly. You let out a shaky moan, wanting this just as much as he does. Taehyung took it as a yes as he slowly entered inside you, grunting from the inclusion. “Damn, you’ve gotten so much tighter, huh?” You just let out shaky moans and whimpers in response as you feel him completely enter you and fill you up. Your walls were fluttering around his length as you tried to take as much as him in, causing him to let out a low groan.

“Jesus fuck…” he grunted, as he immediately took his cock out, hovered it above your cunt, and slammed it inside you with such force. You let out a scream from the action, catching you off guard as you try to match up with his quick pace.

Like it was nothing, Taehyung snapped his hips quickly like it was child’s play as he fucks you deeper and harder, more intense than all of your previous rounds. He touches his bulge that’s deep inside your stomach, causing you to let out a whimper from his smirking face upon you.

“Yeah, does my little baby like being filled up and having my cock be deep inside her?” he asks while fucking you like no tomorrow.

“O-oh my god, yea, yes Daddy,” you purred, your half-droopy eyes interlocking with his, a simple but cherished action he likes during sex. It can be intense and a bit awkward at times, especially since he has a look that could make anyone fall on their knees on a normal day, but his dark starry eyes were to die for. After a minute, you look away with embarrassment but Taehyung cups your cheek and continues to stare for a moment longer.

“Don’t look away from me baby, I wish you can see how much your cute face looks while you’re getting your pussy pounded.” You were getting close to your orgasm again, your pussy clenching and fluttering around his dick. He could sense it too as he starts to pick up the pace and hit against your g-spot more often. “Shit, kitten, are you going to cum now? F-fuck yeah, cum for me now. I wanna see your cute face while you cream around my big dick.” His words were like the tipping point for you to orgasm as the knot that was building up finally lets out. You let out a scream as you felt your liquids gush around him, your mind having no thoughts in the world other than the feeling you have right now and your body is shaking violently from the pleasure. But instead of your usual intensity of an orgasm, you felt yourself squirt everywhere. Not only were your juices splattered onto your boyfriend’s cock but you felt the area around you feel drenched and some of them got onto Taehyung’s stomach and arms.

He stared at you with wide eyes and an open mouth as he started to thrust sloppily, chasing after his high as well due to the sight. “Fucking shit, you squirted all over me baby. Damn that was so hot.” You whimpered from the sensitivity as he continued, his grunts and moans increasing in volume. “Jesus fuck, holy shit, the things you do to me baby girl.” After letting out a guttural grunt, his dick started to inflate and shoot out thick loads of his seed into your battered cunt. Taehyung slowly exited himself out of you and flopped down on the bed next to you while pushing his long fingers inside to keep his cum in there. You let out a squeal from the intrusion as he slowly brought some of his load in front of your face and tapped on your lips, slightly coating them.

“Can I have them Daddy?” you whispered and he gave you a nod in response. Like there was no tomorrow, you immediately inserted his fingers into your mouth and wantonly sucked on them, savoring the salty taste of his cum. He raised an eyebrow at your behavior and pushed them deeper, the flat of his fingers feeling the back of your mouth. This caused you to gag, the action reminding you when you were sucking on his dick a while ago.

“O-okay baby that’s enough unless you want to go for another round, but I assume you’re too tired from that,” Taehyung laughed softly, slowly pulling them out to which you whined from the loss. “Are you okay, did I go too far? You did so well.” “Y-yeah, I’m okay,” you mumbled but he still wasn’t completely convinced. His duality always kills you but you were here for it anyways.

“No, I must’ve gone too far. At any moment, did you feel like you wanted to use the safe word? Remember that if-” “Taehyungie, you were okay! I’m okay and I didn’t want to use it. Besides, you were really hot dominating me like that,” you tried to assure him, rubbing his arms (which have gotten buffer) gently. “You took care of me well too.” “I’m glad to hear that! Hold on babe, I’m going to clean you up and get you some clothes.” He already left to go to the bathroom and during that, it gave you some time to think over your thoughts. Taehyung was truly a marvelous person: his looks were to die for, his personality was sweeter than honey but he can truly dominate someone the next second. You truly were thankful that he appeared in your life but a part of you didn’t understand why.

He comes out dressed in his old vintage T-shirts and shorts with another oversized T-shirt and a damp towel in his hands.

“Alright honey, can you lay down on your back for me? I must’ve made a mess.” “Dude, I literally squirted on not only you but the bed as well,” you dead-panned, causing him to laugh. He gently wiped the excess seed that laid on your inner thighs and the top of your private area before slipping a pair of your comfortable panties onto you. You quickly pulled on the shirt, the hem reaching the middle of your thighs and shyly gave him a hug (which was considerably rare for you to start them but with Taehyung, you would do it no matter what). He returned the hug back and laid you down on the bed with him cuddling you, being the big spoon within your relationship.

You like how his bigger body can easily make you feel warm and you could hear the sound of his heartbeat, the soft feeling making you drowsy.

“Do you want to sleep now, baby?” he rasps, rubbing the back of your neck and finding the particular spot where it was relieving for you. You nodded back in return as you turned over to face him, completely relishing his warm embrace.

“Can I ask you something, Y/N? I hope you don’t feel uncomfortable,” he asked slowly, breaking the silence that lingered around the room.

You nodded, slowly breaking out of his cuddle to face him with wide eyes. Although he didn’t want to break the hug either, he sat up to look at you as well.

“Y/N, you know that I’m dating you and when I date someone, my attention is on them and because I’m with you, I only see you. My eyes will always be looking at you, I breathe and bathe in your presence daily, and I’ll even shout out to the world that I love you if you ever asked me. I’m completely yours honey and I’m curious on why do you get so jealous whenever a woman talks to me? It might sound insensitive but today you acted different when I talked to Irene. Why is that?” You let out a ragged sigh, unsure if you truly want to tell Taehyung. Of course you knew that Taehyung loved you until the end of time and you obviously feel the same way, but that was the problem. You would completely drop everything just to be with him forever but is it possible for a man like him to agree to that? Taehyung was an obvious romantic and if he had to choose between the world and you, he would choose you but why? Why were you so special that he’s dating you? There were plenty of other fish in the sea but his eyes were set on you.

You were just another girl who’s trying to survive in the cutthroat fashion world, constantly thinking to yourself on how much of a disappointment you were. Being an idol was a dream you were dead-set on ever since you were a child but you were too chicken to go to an actual audition and spent the early stages of your adult life fighting with your mom to go on a fashion major: a second choice you didn’t really care for but it was a second choice nonetheless.

Taehyung was a successful photographer with many deals and collaborations from multiple people, some even for famous magazines. His visuals were good enough to even be a Gucci model! He’s good with children and elderly people, he’s an amazing baker, he can play the saxophone, and he could even sing! He shouldn’t be dating some girl who acts like a little kid and has a personality that is absolutely intolerable to most people.

“Taehyung, why are you dating me? If Irene asked you out on a date, would you go on it while you’re in a relationship with me?” “Of course not, I only have-” “But Irene’s ten times more gorgeous than me, it’s like comparing a swan to a baby duck! What kind of man would turn down a sexier woman for a toddler look alike?” you cried, your emotions showing out as you sobbed onto the comforter. He looked at you with sad eyes, rubbing your arms in an attempt to soothe you but your tears didn’t stop running.

“Taehyung, you’re literally every girl’s dream boyfriend! Yet you chose me out of all of those girls who I can’t compare to! Why?! I’m literally nothing compared to them; all of my life I’ve been bullied by my stature, my dreams didn’t come true, everyone thinks I’m annoying, and it fucking hurts to hear gossip from the people in this town on why I’m dating you! I’m just not good enough and I’ll never be-” Your ranting was stopped by a kiss, a romantic and passionate one. You started to whimper inside his mouth as he didn’t break away. His lips were quickly detached from yours to kiss away the tears that were slowly dripping down your face.

“Don’t say another word. I don’t understand why you don’t see yourself the same way I see you,” he said sternly, cupping your face gently.

“Wh-what? I’m not-” “Never say you’re not something because you’re such a beautiful, smart, funny, creative, and witty person. I know it’s hard to not compare yourself to other women but out of all of them, I only see you. Even though you hate that you’re short and you look young, I promise you it’s one of the things I love the most about you. You’re so cute and it makes me so happy whenever I’m cuddling you and I love taking care of you. And it’s okay if your dreams didn’t come true, everything happens for a reason and if you were an idol, would you’ve met me?” “Not really-” “Exactly, it’s like fate did something and we were always meant to be with each other! Besides, I have some friends who are idols and they absolutely hate it.” “Wow, Taehyung, way to make me feel better,” you said sarcastically, a low chuckle vibrating against you.

“Plus, I don’t find your personality annoying. It highlights you really well and I think it’s okay to have that kind of humor but if you act too bratty, I’m always there to punish you-” “God, you’re so perverted and this was supposed to be wholesome!” you barked, pushing him off while watching him with disgust as he tries to catch his breath from laughing too hard.

“Sorry, sorry, the main point is that I love you no matter what and I’ll always think, dream, and bathe in you. You’re my girl and it’s always going to be that way,” he said, giving you another kiss before pulling you back down on the bed and cuddling you again.

“Th-thank you Taehyung,” you said softly, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling yourself closer to his chest. It’s so warm and familiar, just the way you like it. You shift around until you’re more comfortable as you melt yourself into him. It was hard to not feel jealous of other girls but you felt better after talking it out and hearing his words.

“I love you,” he mumbled softly, slowly starting to fall asleep.

“I love you too.” You moved around for a bit but a sudden pain in your lower area stopped you from wiggling too much. Of course you forgot that you were getting railed a while ago and it’s now the aftermath.

“Yo Taehyung, why the fuck did you go hard on me? Now it hurts and I don’t think I can walk normally. Hell, I don’t think I can sit down because you spanked me as well!” you snapped, the all too familiar tsundere personality coming out.

He only had a smirk etched out on his face, pulling you close to stuff your face within his chest. “Sorry, I guess,” he replied sarcastically, chuckling on how you grumbled and complained in response.

“What does that mean, ‘I guess’? It’s always the doms with the biggest dicks.”

Your ringtone blasted across the room, waking you up from your comfortable and warm sleep with Taehyung. You grumbled to yourself as you groggily stared at the caller ID. Sure enough, it was Irene. Your heart dropped to your stomach as there was no other reason why she was calling you unless to fire you for your behavior at the diner yesterday.

“Hello?” you answer timidly, praying that you won’t get kicked out today.

“Hello, Y/N. I hope you’re having a lovely morning today.” “You too. Listen Irene, I’m really sorry on how I acted during the diner that time. It was extremely immature of me to have that attitude and not listen to your side of the story, I guess jealousy got the better of me. I-I promise there won’t be any more instances like this and I’m sorry for causing such inconvenience,” you rambled, sweat dripping down your back as your fate was determined on the other line.

Silence filled the room and you waited impatiently, tapping your fingers along the headboard of your bed. Suddenly, laughter rang out from Irene’s side and you sighed in a breath of relief that you’re off the hook.

“It’s okay, I completely understand why you acted that way and I apologize if it may seem like I’m making moves on your boyfriend. Although I would like it if you listened to my side, I’m hoping he did at least.” You stared at his sleeping figure and softly rubbed his bread-like cheeks with affection. “Y-yeah, he did. So, what did you want to call me about?” “Oh, do you know the dress designs that you submitted to me a few months ago?” Your mind went back to you staying overnight at the studio, scrapping pages and pages of different designs to find the perfect one to turn in. Although you were extremely proud, at that time Irene didn’t spend a second to even look at them which lowered your spirits.

“Yeah, what about them? Did I do something wrong?” “No, you didn’t. In fact they were really lovely and I’m sorry it took me a long time to review them. Actually, I really liked it so much that I turned it into some big name fashion companies and they are deciding to feature them in their latest runway for a fashion week.” Your eyes widened, shock filling your brain as you tried to comprehend what was going on. There was no way, the design that you spent hours perfecting was able to go on the runway?! You let out a high-pitched shriek, instantly waking up Taehyung as he slowly opened his eyes.

“Oh my god, thank you thank you thank you! I-I can’t believe this is happening!” you squealed, your excitement radiating the room like sunshine on a bright morning.

“You’re welcome honey, I hope you’re coming up with more designs to possibly submit in the future.” “Of course! Thank you so much, have a great day!” you grinned as the call ended. You started babbling to yourself while Taehyung watched you with admiration surrounding his face.

“Congratulations baby,” he grinned, giving you a kiss on your lips.

“Hey, how did you know?” “I heard you screaming ever since the phone rang.” “I mean, I guess you would’ve found out that way. Anyways I’m so excited and happy since this is such a huge opportunity for me! Also, thank you for the support and love you gave me last night,” you said, pecking his cheeks.

“Anytime baby girl. How about I make some of those fluffy pancakes you like for celebration,” he smiled, walking out of the bed and into the brown slippers you got him for his birthday once.

“Alright, I’ll be-” Unfortunately for you, your legs stopped working and you tumbled out of the bed. Taehyung only laughed at your fall before carrying you bridal style, much to your embarrassment.

“Thanks a lot Tae, you really ruined me last night,” you pouted as you made yourself comfortable in his arms.

“You know you love me right,” he cooed, flicking your cheeks which turned into an embarrassingly bright red. As much as you don’t show it that much, you’re definitely in love with him no matter what.

Just as Taehyung was about to head off for his photoshoot consisting of a beauty model, he slipped his hand underneath his drawer and beneath the ties hides a velvet red box. And inside the box was a wedding ring that was passed onto from generations of his family.

You have been dating him for a few years now and although you never admitted it, you were hoping that one day he’ll propose to you.

Taehyung smiled at the box before closing the drawer to head out his way. There was a legend throughout the Kim family that the ring fits the person who's the perfect wife for the son. The ring was quite small which meant most girls couldn’t fit it but since you have small hands, he checked the size of your fingers and it fit perfectly.

Many people would ask him why he would choose a short abrasive girl like you as his girlfriend and some may judge but frankly, he didn’t care about what everyone else thought.

Because he was lucky that destiny allowed him to be with you and the person that he set his mind and future on was only you.

a/n: this was initially a drabble but i liked the idea sm that i decided to write a whole ff on it lol. thanks for reading, i hope you enjoy and let me know what you think! <3

taglist: @cherrykocho, @knjkitten

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henqtic · 3 years

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𝘔𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘺 𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘋𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘰 𝘔𝘢𝘭𝘧𝘰𝘺

word count: 1.2k

author note - Here’s a visual of the rings, I want to make some myself so badly, but I don’t have the artistic ability to so why not write about it :)

masterlist. // taglist form. // request works. // picture creds.

—————————

Being in an art block was not the funnest thing in the world and you decided that maybe going outside would be nice for your mind to maybe get the gears turning. Wearing a long flowy skirt and a cardigan to keep you warm just in case cool winds would come in later in the day.

You had forced Draco to wear anything other than black seeing as the sun was out and shining and you didn’t want to see your boyfriend heat up to one hundred degrees. He’d brought a book with him to read and his head was laying against your shoulder.

✧·ﾟ: *✧·ﾟ:* 　

You were drawing a frog's face that was spaced out to almost look in the detail of a ring, when your eyes widened in realization and happiness. ‘Finally out of the art block’ you thought as you called for the blonde leaning against you-

“Draco” He hummed in response, still reading his book as you shook your shoulder making his head shoot up and look at you. “I think I have the best idea of what we could do, make rings out of clay,” you said with excitement as he looked down at the book in your lap.

“Make rings out of clay?” He snorted as he looked down at obviously expensive rings as he said, “I think my rings are better than clay, you can have one if you want.” He started to slip off a silver ring that had a snake detail engraved into it. You stopped him by putting your hand over his, making his face scrunch up in confusion and look at you.

“No Draco, I just think it’s a rather creative idea and it’s better than just buying one from the store. “Look at this,” you pointed at the elongated frog face on your sketchbook with your pencil and gushed, “wouldn’t that be so cute as a ring.”

He was perplexed at the idea of doing something by hand and enjoying it. He was barely ever in his kitchen unless it was to eat the food made by the house elves and most of the time he hadn’t even pulled out his own chair. “I could always get you one custom made for you. You know that right,” he said looking at you as if you were some kind of homeless puppy in need of a home.

A breathy laughed emitted from you; amused at the fact he couldn’t comprehend the meaning of actually wanting and enjoying things done by himself. “Love no, that’s not the reason. I think we should make it ourselves because it’ll have more personality to it. Isn’t it always better to get a real present than money? And you could alway just watch me instead of doing it if that’s what you want.”

“No and Yes. Money is better and I’ll do it with you, I’m used to your--oddness now.” He joked leaning his head back to its spot on your shoulder. “Very flattering Draco.” You jerked your body back as his head hit the blanket underneath you.

“Ouch-- what was that for?” “Sorry Draco, it was only an accident,” you lied as he hesitantly put his head back eyeing you scared that you would move again. “Draco I’m not going to move you can go back now,” you said in an unconvincing tone trying to make him paranoid.

“Yea. Alright,” he muttered tenderly laying back down, his head hovering slightly as you started to draw more designs.

✧·ﾟ: *✧·ﾟ:* 　

“Alright this is all we’ll need,” you said excitedly looking at the table in front of you. There was polymer clay, paint, paint brushes, and a craft oven. You showed him the other designs you’d come up with including a bear, pig, and a duck. “Which one do you think you like best?”

“You made them, so I like all of them.” You raised your eyebrows at him trying to contain a smile at his compliment. “But I’d have to say the frog is one of the best.”

✧·ﾟ: *✧·ﾟ:* 　

“Bloody hell where did you get this from? I think it may be bad,” the boy said five second into kneading the clay with the green paint. You sighed as you went closer to his side, “Draco, It’s clay it’s not going to be a bit hard.” Huffing, he went back to kneading as his eyes went wide looking down at his stained hands, “You never told me my hands would turn green”

“Obviously. It’s paint. We’ll wash our hands when we’re done anyways.” You had gotten done with your second ring, which was in the design of a bear when you decided to see how Draco was doing.

You laughed as you looked at him; his face was crunched up and his tongue out touching the top of his lip as he tried to get the pupil directly in the center of the frog's eye. “It doesn’t have to be perfect love, it’s for fun.” He just dismissed you with an ‘mhm’ his eyes never leaving the what he would call the ‘challenge’ in front of him.

A few minutes went by when you were both done with four rings each. You put them into the oven as you and Draco talked about different things at school. About how he’s going to ‘Get Pottah back’. You hadn’t even known what he had done to cause Draco to get ‘back’ at him. But what was the point in trying, there was always something?

When you took the rings out of the oven, you watched as he admired the frog he had worked so hard on causing a smile to come upon your face. “I’ll admit this came out better than I thought.”

“I agree, they did come out pretty good,” you said back hoping he would say something else. After a sew seconds he caved in,“Alright fine, I’ll wear the frog but you have to match me.” An excited smile came over your face as you laid a kiss on his cheek. “Of course, I knew you’d come around.”

✧·ﾟ: *✧·ﾟ:* 　 Bonus

“What’s that on your hand Malfoy,” Theodore teased. He, Draco, and Blaise were all up in their dorm about to go to bed when he caught sight of the ring on his finger. “It’s a frog ring if you want to know so badly, I made it with my girlfriend,” he said, putting emphasis on the ‘girlfriend”.

“Something that you clearly don’t have the capability.” He gestured to the boy’s face with a look of disgust painting his own. A loud laugh emitted from Blaise’s mouth, “Nott just please go to sleep now, ‘cause you know it’s true.” Ever since Blaise started dating some Ravenclaw he sat by in potions, Theodore had become the fifth wheel whenever everyone hung out.

The boy hastily pulled the blanket over his body and quickly pulled the string turning off the lamp, almost snapping it off. “That was uncalled for Malfoy, I hope a spider crawls up you while you’re sleeping,” he grumbled, causing the blonde’s mouth to clamp shut and take a large gulp. The sound was heard as Blaise started to laugh again “Shut up Zabini,” the boys said in sync as he only laughed louder.

✧·ﾟ: *✧·ﾟ:* 　

A/N- Feel free to leave any feedback or constructive criticism and have a great rest of your day or night <3

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et-dah · 4 years

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The Demon Brothers: Creative Outlets Headcanons

they are all immortals and when you've lived longer than you can remember, you're bound to find a creative outlet to destress, alleviate boredom, or you know, to just have fun!

Lucifer

He’s a busy demon. If he’s not working, he's sleeping, or cleaning up one of his brother’s messes, so he doesn't have that much time to just relax and explore his creative sides.

That said though, it doesn’t mean he has no hobbies at all.

He plays the piano. He used to play it every morning, back when he’s still in the Celestial Realm, when he’d taught Lilith how to play the piano every morning and she’d sat besides him as his fingers moved across the keys slower so she could copy him.

Nowadays, playing the piano feels very nostalgic and bittersweet, but you’ll hear soft, bittersweet melodies drift from the music room once in a while.

He also composes his own music, but that's an even rarer occurrence. The last time he created a new music piece was centuries ago.

(Ever since MC came to Devildom though, he's been itching to write music for them.)

Practices calligraphy for fun. He has a whole set of brushes and ink and lettering pens. His handwriting is already beautiful but his calligraphy is even more amazing.

Another thing he does is gardening. He's got a great eye for landscape architecture, he's the reason why the house's backyard is pretty.

He plants decorative plants and likes to cross breed flowers so the House of Lamentation's backyard is full of pretty shrubs and unfamiliar flowers.

He is usually joined by Beel as he is the other brother that finds gardening very relaxing.

Mammon

He definitely shows his creativity by coming up with the most absurdly brilliant, out-of-the-box, original schemes to make money.

Mammon can draw, like really good. His drawings are very realistic. He prefers to use traditional media: charcoal pencils, graphite sticks, blenders, erasers, drawing pens, brushes, and maybe some watercolors.

He usually does architecture sketches.

But if you check his drawers, you’ll find several sketchbooks of his brothers in different candid poses. MC alone has taken up three whole sketchbooks. Mammon makes sure MC doesn’t see those sketches though.

Crashes Asmo’s Art Day regularly, claiming that if Levi’s invited then the Great Mammon should be too. Asmo and Levi always complains but they let him stay anyway.

Mammon also has a natural talent on jewelry making and metalwork. He makes jewelry from buttons, beads, pearls, diamonds, and crystals. From small pendants to elaborate neckpieces, simple anklets to ornate hairpins.

Mammon has made metal bookmarks for Satan because the book lover always misplaces his bookmarks or destroys them in fits of rage when he doesn't like a book's ending.

He sculpts wood. It takes him months to finish one small piece because he only does it when he's really, really bored, he prefers to make his much more profitable jewelry.

He keeps all of his sculptures in his room, small and detailed pieces of wood engraving of Devildom native animals lining up on one of the shelves.

Leviathan

This is canon but he draws! He doesn't think he's very good at it, but he really enjoys it.

Unlike Mammon who likes to draw with his charcoal pencils and drawing pens, Levi prefers to draw digitally. He still switch to traditional media now and then though.

Has a monthly scheduled “Art Day” where he and Asmo hang out together, Levi draws with his sketchbook or his drawing tablet and Asmo paints. They basically just gossip and hype each other’s art.

Dabbles in making short animations but feels like it’s just not something for him. He makes short comics though.

He wants to be able to make his own video game someday though. Maybe after he learns programming.

He makes the most detailed cosplay outfits for his own cosplays. He sews really good and patches his brothers clothes when they ask. Where do you think Asmo learns how to sew his own clothes from?

Really good at dancing and he really likes it too. He's a natural at it. From the most intricate traditional Devildom dances to freestyle dancing. He can make new moves on the spot and can copy any moves from one look.

He’s a shy baby though, you’ll rarely see him dance when he’s sober.

Except when he’s playing DDR (Demons Dance Revolution). Then, it’s like he’s the most confident demon in Devildom.

Satan

Satan writes poetry when inspiration strikes him. He has also written short stories but he always comes back to creating beautiful poems. He’s got a way with words.

Photography is something he has only recently taken interest in but he has a great eye for taking breathtaking shots.

Has become the family’s go-to photographer.

“Satan, take a picture of me and Mammon!” “Satan, take our picture, quick!” “Satan, help me get a picture for my Devilgram!”

He’s the reason Asmo’s Devilgram pictures always look like they’re taken professionally in a photo studio or something.

Satan loves art, likes to stroll through museums and stare at paintings for hours, but has little talent in creating them. Even so, he still likes to paint even if he's not good at it.

Sometimes he just wants to slap paint on a canvas and make a colorful mess. It's fun.

He joins Art Day every other month.

Another thing he does is knitting! It relaxes him. It gives him something to focus at when he's angry (um, angrier than usual), just to give his hands something to do that doesn't involve breaking anything. The simple patterns he makes are easy enough that they don't frustrate him.

Rarely ever finishes his knitting though, you'll just find this 5 meters long knitted fabric in one corner of his room with the ends coming undone because he calms himself down enough to stop knitting.

Asmodeus

Regularly designs, cut, and sew his own clothes.

Has a lot of sketchbooks full of drawings of flowy dresses and stylish coats and many aesthetically pleasing shirts.

He has started his own clothing line and sometimes collaborate with Majolish.

But for the most part, he designs clothes for himself and himself only, he doesn't want anyone else to wear clothes as fabolous as his.

Nail art? Nail art.

Asmo paints all of the brothers nails and sometimes he'll persuade one of them to let him do a complete manicure, with glitter polish and shiny studs and all.

Yes, even Lucifer. You just never see the results because Lucifer wears his gloves almost all the time.

Asmo creates beautiful makeup art. He doesn't really like a lot of makeup on his own face though, so his brothers' faces are his canvases.

He also has a great eye for interior decorating and flower arranging. He restyles his room every month.

Not many people know it but he paints. And he's very good at it. He has done a painting of each brother, the paintings can be seen on the walls of the House of Lamentation's hallways.

Art Day with Levi (and sometimes Satan or Belphie) is spent with him in front of canvases, chatting with his brothers, paint splatters on his hands. It's the only day that he doesn't mind looking a little messy.

Beelzebub

He cooks, of course! And bakes too!

It's one of the times he’s willing to wait to eat because cooking the ingredients first rather than just straight up eating them will make the foods taste better.

Half of the food in the kitchen are his creations. Anything he can make on his own from scratch, he will; jams, ice cream, sauces, juices, bread, chips, etc.

Likes to experiment and always do something different than the original recipes.

He garnishes his cooking like it’s something you order from a five star restaurant.

Beel is another demon who has a green thumb. He likes taking care of plants and doesn't mind getting a bit dirty doing it so gardening is another hobby of his.

If Lucifer plants ornamental plants, Beel grows useful plants like herbs and vegetables and small fruits. He's also good at topiary.

Always has an idea for a DIY project.

His creations is scattered all over the House of Lamentation. Belphie's drawer divider is made out of yogurt cups. Broken drawer knobs recycled into Asmo's jewelry organizer. The coat rack. The bathroom towel holder.

Even Lucifer's hanging Demonus rack is handmade by Beel when he's bored one weekend, with Mammon's help for the engraving decorations along the sides of the rack. Beel's got a bit of Bob the Builder in him.

He is very good at singing. His voice is clear and he has a broad vocal range. Has been caught unconsciously humming in class many times.

Has definitely sang Belphie to sleep.

Belphegor

Does his pranks counts as a creative outlet though?😂 Between him and Satan, Belphie's ideas are the most creative and out of the box, resulting on some of the best pranks they did.

Belphie does origami. It's relaxing, easy enough to learn, and doesn't take much effort and energy to do it.

Has stacks of origami papers in his room: standard origami paper, foil paper, traditional Washi ones, the leather-like Momigami paper, all kinds of paper.

He especially loves to make little origami stars and keeps them in glass jars in his room.

Belphie also has adult coloring books.

And kids coloring books.

Coloring is relaxing to him. It's very calming to just lay down and fills a page with pretty colors for a while. It's not a tiring way to destress, he can color without moving from his bed, and it feels satisfying when he finishes a whole page.

He sometimes joins Art Day if he's not too lazy to move. Still prefers to color alone where it's quiet though.

He also journals. It's another thing he can do that is inexpensive and not energy consuming. He writes about anything that comes to his mind, his thoughts, his ideas, memories.

Definitely keeps a dream journal.

Also I headcanon that as the Avatar of Sloth, sleep and dreams are some of the things he can manipulate. He enjoys creating dreams; the worldbuilding, the story, the details. He can be really creative when it comes to making them, spinning the most vivid and imaginative dreams.

They’re not necessarily good dreams though. After all, he is still a demon, his dreams will most likely mess up your mind than make you smile in your sleep.

#obey me #obey me swd #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #rol writes

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passivenovember · 3 years

Text

And Everyday was Overcast.

Part One : Hammers and Nails

Billy needed someplace to go when the grave was desecrated.

When his eyes unglued themselves, peeling off eyelashes in their wake, when the earth was overturned, torn and left hanging like shreds of old fabric; Steve had been there. By some miracle he had been consumed like he always was, sat thinking by a plot that had grown yellow flowers to blanket Billy in his eternal sleep. And maybe it was those small visits sheltered between morning runs and eight hour shifts stocking the horror section that Billy had come back.

From the grave. From the brink.

The Earth started vibrating, spidery cracks turning volatile, and Steve was met with ocean blue. Red rimmed eyes locked on his face, hands reaching and gripping. Nails digging in as Steve wrapped Billy's grime covered shoulders in his own jacket. Rubbed the chilled skin of his arms, looked in his eyes, and took him home.

Someplace Billy could wash the day from his skin.

The blonde haired boy who had turned from human to creature and back again deserved something more than what he was left with. He deserved warm meals, and sunshine on his skin, and soft bed sheets that opened like a celestial sky when Billy felt like shelving the enormity of what he had discovered. What waited after death.

Steve wanted that for him.

Not happiness, not closure, exactly, but something close to it.

At the root of it all, Steve knew Billy should feel safe. Welcome and warm and comfortable, in the house that Steve’s father had built for his mother all those years ago when she was plump and round with child. Steve felt like his father that day as he carried the last box over the threshold and took in the rigid, tense line of Billy’s shoulders.

He let the moment rest. Let it breathe, as his father always instructed. “Do you think you could feel safe here, Billy?”

The air sat heavy. Cold and wet and warm, somehow, like the morning after a night of heavy rain. Billy sucked in a sharp breath and pivoted slowly, face reverent, as if standing barefoot in a cathedral among gods and heroes. Met with divinity.

Instead he got Steve.

Just Steve, trying not to stare at the lone curl hanging over Billy’s forehead when he offered a tight, controlled smile. “It’s fine.” Billy said, only.

Steve tore his eyes away. Focused on the second story banister to stop his gut from falling through the floor. ”Fine? As in, I would rather eat my own toenails than live here, fine or, like. It's okay, I don't mind it here, I might even like it someday, fine?"

Billy adjusted the strap across his shoulders. “It’s just what I expected it would be.”

Steve shook his head. “What’s that mean?”

"Relax, Harrington, it's." Billy turned again, eyebrows scrunched together. “Its. Pastel. And huge. Obscenely decorated—“

”My mom had it professionally done before they—“

”It was built for a happy family with lots of kids. Lots of love, but now it's. It feels. Lost.”

Billy had started saying things like that.

Heavy, saturated, impossible things that left Steve scrambling. Wishing for the intelligence to absorb the meaning rather than question it. Steve rested the box at the foot of the stairs and offered a smile to the second story. Runoff for the pools of blue that looked on.

"That's a lot of adjectives. I can get you a hotel, maybe. Or an apartment. I could cosign, I know they gave you a pretty penny and you could probably afford your own, but. I could. I would." Steve said harshly. "For you. I would."

"It's fine here. It's okay."

Steve felt like a science experiment. Egg boy with three heads and ten legs or something. Suckers on the tips of his thumbs, the way Billy studied him. Steve counted the freckles on Billy's nose--one, two, three, four--trying to stay afloat.

Dinner was made every night though Steve never saw it happen.

The cookbooks sat alphabetized over his mother's antique bar cart on that little periwinkle blue shelf. He'd come home, every night, at six on the dot, to a set table. The mixing bowls were always clean and put away, counters wiped and ingredients stored neatly on the shelves his pantry, but the wooden spoons spelled it out for Steve, still shifting from dark to light as they lay drying on the dish rack.

"You don't have to make dinner, you know." Steve took another bite of Salisbury steak, furious that it tasted so good. Like love soaking into his skin.

Billy shook his head. "I want to."

"I know, I'm saying it's okay if you decide not to, one day. Like if you get caught up reading. Or if you can get Max to drive you to the history museum, or if you--"

"It's the least I can do."

Steve hated that. He let his fork clatter to the table. "I'm not expecting repayment for this."

"I'm not a freeloader."

"And I'm not an asshole." Steve deadpanned, lifting a finger that sewed Billy's smug lips together. "Don't say it."

"Say what?"

"Whatever you were thinking, with that clever glint in your stupid blue eyes."

Billy cracked his knuckles, clearly fighting a smile. "Never thought you noticed the color of my eyes, Harrington."

"Yeah, sure." Steve stood, gathering the plates and forks and knives from the table, his own eyes counting primary threads. "Can see those things from space, Jesus." He finally looked up, at Billy's curiously pink face.

Pink lips, cheeks, nose.

Steve gripped ceramic. Swallowed against a swell of guilt. "You don't owe me anything, Billy. I like having you here. I want you here."

Billy gave a simple, controlled nod.

Steve got used to it.

The shack wasn't built until the doctor told Billy that he'd probably wouldn't remember all of what happened. The big things would stick out, neon greens and blues against the forest head, but Billy shouldn't be too hard on himself if the important things got thrown away.

And some of those jagged little pieces were there. The bad things. Anger and hatred, both for self and world, left hanging on the cliff of who he was now. Everything that had formed Billy Hargrove--the person he was, the person Steve had pretended not to notice--were packed away. Soft, silky emotion covering knives left dull and rusted in their drawer.

Billy remembered like flashes of lightening across the summer sky--sudden and then gone. Here and away. He remembered Hawkins high and Max who'd grown six inches in three years. Dustin who had been wearing that stupid shirt when the mall burned down.

And Steve.

Always Steve, sat next to him. A foot away at first and then holding his hand, later, when Owens said Billy should be kind to himself. Gentle.

He wasn't.

And he didn't come out of his room for three days after that, after the wall was placed in front of him. The crack under Billy's door always keeping Steve at bay. Trapped behind the starting line. He paced around on the carpet, lifting his fist and letting it fall again, never breaking up the silence.

Billy was crying.

Billy never cried, anymore, but he cried that night and Steve felt helpless. Pathetic and stupid and useless, locking himself in his father's study and trying to formulate a plan, just like Owens had told him to when the sun fell on a world without Billy Hargrove and then suddenly rose again, set anew.

Set crooked when Billy stormed from the hospital room, slamming doors that echoed like rolls of thunder in his wake.

Figure out a way to help him.

Sterile, eerie white walls stared back at him as Steve shrugged his shoulders on the third day, aluminum hospital chair groaning beneath his weight.

I'm not sure how to do that.

You don't have to do anything. Owens said. Just help him get the emotion out. Let him write, draw, sing, dance, whatever he needs to assist in telling us his story.

Potato casserole and red wine bore witness to Steve's leap of faith. Billy turned away from the novel he had tucked under his arm when Steve got home from work that day, eyes curious. "Spit it out, Harrington."

"I'm not sure what you--"

"You've been giving me the side eye since you got home." Billy turned the page in his book, still managing to read both it and the room as he urged, "Tell me what's wrong."

And nothing was wrong, and.

Everything was wrong. Steve leaned forward, elbows on the table. "Do you want to come with me to the art store tomorrow?"

Billy frowned. "I don't need anything from the art store."

"It's not always about what you need," Steve reasoned, patting his mouth with a napkin. "We could get stuff you want. That's all, just pretty things. Nice things. It could be a treat."

"Paper and scissors are considered a treat?" Billy cocked an eyebrow. "I do love touching shit, it's one of my favorite hobbies."

Steve scrubbed at his mouth, swallowing down against a big, fat, crooked smile dripping with affection. "C'mon, it'll be fun. We can get whatever you want; clay, oil pastels, acrylics--"

"I wanted to check out the library tomorrow."

"You go everyday, blue, you're a regular bookworm."

"So?" Billy demanded, taking another bite of casserole. "I like to read. Just 'cause you can't doesn't mean the rest of us have to hold back." He grinned, low and slow. "Don't let your jealousy turn you into a tyrannical landlord, pretty boy."

"God, you're the absolute worst."

Billy turned back to his novel. "The art store will just inspire me to paint nudies."

"So paint them." Steve challenged.

Bait. Hook and line.

"You gonna pose for me if I let you buy out the joint?"

Steve shrugged. "Maybe once, if you look at the easels while we're there."

"No shit?" Billy leaned forward, biceps flexing in his cutoff as he stuck a polaroid of a smiling blonde woman between the pages of his novel. "The fuck is this about, Harrington?"

"I'm worried."

"That you'll take me to a crafts store and I'll put you out of house and home? Reasonable concern, I guess."

"About the diagnosis, dipshit. About you." Steve gulped down the rest of his wine. Made sure every last drop had seasoned his words before any were said aloud, where they might do damage. He let the glass rest on the table between his fingertips, stem rolling from pad to pad. He took a deep, steadying breath. "You haven't been the same since--"

"I got hijacked by a space demon or crawled out of my own grave?" Billy shrugged, picking at something in his teeth. "Be more specific."

Steve fiddled with the handle of his fork. Hand picked his words. Refined the meaning. "Yes, and. Both."

Billy didn't say anything for a while and the room finally settled. Falling fast asleep, thick with inertia and silence until the book was opened once more and Steve went back to digging through his casserole, picking at the spring onions.

Letting the moment breathe.

Until, finally. "I feel like I could crawl out of my own skin."

Steve tripped over himself to get those blue eyes on him once more. "That's understandable--"

"I feel fucking useless." Billy snapped, voice cracking in two, and. Suddenly Steve couldn't look at him. Couldn't bare to see his face. "I'm trying to replay what happened. Every second, I'm trying to figure out why. Why me."

Steve counted the primary threads in the table cloth. One, two, three. "You can't go on asking yourself questions like that."

"I can do what I--"

"It wasn't your fault, Billy. Any of it."

"I'm not talking about the Fourth of July, I'm talking about. Death. I'm talk about what comes before and what comes after and how they're the same." Billy turned the page in his novel furiously, eyebrows scrunched together. "I never thought they'd be the same. It's like I've started over."

Steve couldn't possibly understand, but.

He watched pools of blue scan the page. Took measured breaths, never pushing until Billy was ready to share more. Until he tossed the book on the counter and sighed, head buried in his hands. "I don't understand how I got here."

"Easy," Steve whispered. "That's easy. You were born from love--"

"My parents aren't in love anymore."

"But they were, once." Steve shook his head. "When you were made. They loved each other, and they loved you, and your life was full of love that never made sound but it was still there." Steve willed Billy to look at him. Willed the skies to turn blue again.

They didn't.

Billy sighed, low and slow. "Did love bring me here again?"

"I guess so."

"Who's love?" Billy demanded, leaning forward into the table and crushing his novel where it lay against light oak tabletops. "Who loved me enough to bring me back here? To wish for me."

And.

There were a lot of things Steve wanted to say. Lines he wanted to map out, directions that lead from A to B and back again, but it didn't seem useful. Didn't rest important, as Steve took the novel from its place on the table and smoothed worn pages, tucking the polaroid in its place. "I'm sorry things feel weird for you." He said softly.

Billy grabbed the book, staring down at his casserole. "'S not so bad, I guess."

And, for Steve, that wasn't good enough.

Billy worked mostly in charcoal. He painted nightmares, and doorways into the past, delicate, swirling lines telling a story that made Steve's heart ache to see. To hear, with every drag of material across fruited canvas'.

Steve asked him about it, once. Over dinner, with the lights turned low. "Why do you paint such horrible things?"

And Billy had smiled. Bright and true. "How's that?"

"Y'know. Black scabs and eyeballs melting out of skulls and sliding down the ridge of people's faces, and--"

"It's what I see." Billy replied, voice soft. Measured. "It's what follows me around."

So Billy spent every hour locked in his shed, curls tucked over a growing body of work. Fingers turned rotten with charcoal soot as he made sense of what happened.

Steve liked to watch him work.

Liked to see the tension ease more and more from the strong shoulders that travelled beside him up the stairs each night. Steve felt the dig of each pencil in the crevice between his ribs when Billy finished masterpiece after masterpiece.

Still, it wasn't enough.

Along the ridges of creation, therapy lay half buried in the sand. It was state mandated, that Billy go and learn how to deal with the things charcoal couldn't straighten out for him. Like the nightmares, and the migraines that kept him from eating dinner at the table when June gave way to July.

Steve worried. Constantly, fervently, but Billy refused to go, always wiping his hands on the powder green apron Steve got for him at the art store, and insisting, "This is a form of therapy." Billy gestured around the room. To the mountains of loose sketch papers and half finished canvases that lay strewn across every surface. "This is how I cope."

And it was.

And it happened the same way every time.

Things got bad for him and Billy would disappear into his shed. Steve would come home from the office to find that his mother's prized Thomas Kincaid collection had been replaced by Billy's work. It was haunting. Sick and twisted and so, so beautiful.

He found himself standing and staring at it for hours, eyes tracing over the swirling lines of purgatory.

It made Steve feel helpless, but.

Still, Billy refused to go. Still, he buried himself in his work. Still, he painted himself into a hole.

The path toward recovery was littered with charcoal drawings until it wasn't.

Until Steve came home one afternoon to find Billy talking with a little boy who had his throat cut open.

#harringrove #psychological horror #idk man i just needed to get the words OUT #for Lis <3 #happy birthday honey bee

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