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happy-beeeps · 1 year

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Buzzcut Season Ch. 8

How To Be Something You Miss

(i'm running out of gifs and none of them we're quite the right vibe for this sorry besties)

((Also bonus points if you know what taylor swift song the title is from))

Read part 7 here

WC: 6.3k

pairing : Rex x heiress!reader

Warnings/tags: angst, grief, character death, two people unhealthily dealing with their emotions, language. Not a warning, but we get so much platonic!Kix in this one and I’m just so obsessed with his and the reader's friendship. If you follow the series, you know that the events in Ch. 7 aren’t making this chapter the best for our other favorite clone bestie pairing, so I’m hoping this helps treat the emotional wound. Actually tbh there’s a lot of platonic besties in this one. It took everything in me not to resolve the angst in one chapter, but I’m already working on Ch. 9 hehehehe also no proofreading as per usual but I didn’t write this in one mass sitting at 2 am this time so growth!

* * *

He arrives home with a clatter of plastoid, shaking hands typing at the datapad and a helmet being discarded, no thrown, across your living room. CeeDee wakes almost immediately, heading into your bedroom just as you’ve sat upright in bed. “It appears Captain Rex has returned,” she states, and leaves your room as quickly as she enters. You can hear your refrigerator being opened, the sound of your water pitcher being poured into a cup, and him dropping the glassware into the sink. There’s the sound of your sliding door opening, and then shutting quietly, as if he’s hoping you won't hear.

“Rex?” you call into the darkness, awaiting an answer. There isn’t one, and you frown at that. Tossing your fluffy down comforter off to the side, you cross your arms over your chest, shuffling towards him down the hallway in your short, satin nightgown. “Rex, love, what are you doing?” And then you see him.

He’s sitting on a chair on your balcony, back to you through the viewport panes. He looks regal like this, back straight, lights of the city bouncing off around him. You open the door quietly and sneak up behind him. He hears you, obviously, after years of training, and stiffens at your presence.

“Rex, what’s going on? Come inside, it's cold out here.” It is cold, you aren’t lying, and you’re pulling your nightie tighter around your torso and slinging your arms around his shoulders, pressing warm kisses to his exposed neck.

He shudders at the sensation, exhaling a long held breath. “I talked to Fives.”

“Oh? How did it go? Will he be ok?”

He tenses again at the words, and he turns his head slightly against your arms to look at you out of the corner of his eyes. There’s something behind them, something akin to pain, but he blinks it away, reaching a gloved hand up to stroke your cheek, the pieces of your hair that fall free from where they’re tucked behind your ear. “Don’t worry about him, ok?”

You nod, accepting that he’s probably fine, probably in hiding, and this is all you can know at this point. Rex knows of your friendship with his brother, and you can breathe easier at knowing he’s ok. “Come inside, ok?”

Rex does not object, and you lead him back into your apartment, down the hallway and into your bedroom. He seems exhausted, and you are happy to help him undress, clipping away at the little plastoid hooks and latches you’ve become so familiar with. His eyes are looking at something you can’t really see as you do this, offering you nothing except quiet thank you’s and soft praise.

“Did something happen tonight?” you ask, running a hand over his hair, hips open as you straddle his back.

He sighs into you, pressing back to the point that you’re becoming a little crushed under his weight. “I don’t really want to talk about it. Is that ok?”

“Long day?”

He nods.

“Then we can talk in the morning.” You back away from him and roll backwards across your bed, large enough that you have to motion for Rex to join you as he removes his shirt, discarding it across the floor and coming to lay on top of you, face buried in a mess of your hair, like you’re his last tether to sanity. You rub aimless circles in his back and place sweet kisses on his temple.

Unbeknownst to you, his heart and his head are swimming with emotion. How can he deserve such love, such kindness? And how is he ruining something so good and pure by continuing to stay with you? These thoughts linger and he dwells on them long after he falls asleep, and he dreams of you and Fives in an abandoned warehouse, only this time it’s your blood on his hands.

* * *

It isn’t particularly unusual for Rex to be gone when you wake up. You’re more accustomed to the finer things, you like waking up to the sun, your hair spread across down pillows, fresh breakfast waiting in your kitchen. Once you had even caught Rex in there himself, working up a sweat leaning over a recipe of the flatcakes you loved to order for breakfast. But today isn’t like that day, there’s an eerie stillness in your home that comes with him being gone. You pad over to the kitchen, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes as you recount the night. The cup is gone from the sink, his armor nowhere to be found. Simple, he must’ve been called into headquarters. CeeDee comes in, already confirming your usual breakfast order from the bakery down the block for delivery, and you shake your head. “I think I’ll pick it up, and in fact, order more of the dough rounds and an extra carton of caf. I’m going to drop it off at headquarters.” CeeDee complies, and you dress quickly, throwing on a long dress and wrap before heading downstairs to your driver. You left your comm at home, you realize as he speeds away towards the bakery, and shrug it off. You don’t read the messages from Jil, from Jesse, until it’s too late.

The GAR headquarters is always busy, but it seems unbearably so today. You’re trying to get the attention of the man working at the center desk, but he seems occupied with directing a number of Republic officers in twenty different directions. Your caf is getting cold and your patience is wearing thin, and you huff, toe tapping unbearably, until you see a familiar face.

“Kix!”

The medic looks bewildered at you being here, not that it’s particularly uncommon, you’re becoming a fixed figure on non-classified days with the 501st, but for some reason, today, he looks a bit shocked. “What are you doing here?”

You shake the caf carton and use your chin to gesture to the boxes of dough rounds you have perched on your hip. “Rex left early this morning, I figured you all would appreciate the breakfast.”

“Funny, Rex said you weren’t feeling well last night, that’s why he was here so early,” he shrugs, grabbing both things from you, “If you need medical attention, let me know. I’m sure the boys would be happy to see you.”

You frown, confused at the lie. “No, no I’m okay, thank you Kix.” You follow him down the halls and towards the familiar mess hall that you know the 501st has taken over. He sets the treats down on a table and troopers immediately flock over, patting you on the arm and serving themselves breakfast. “Hey, by the way,” you glance around, noting the lack of a certain friendly face, “Where’s Fives?”

It’s as if it happens in slow motion, Kix’s face turning from confusion to sadness to anger, but not at you, at the blonde man walking in now, mouth hanging open as he sees you talking to Kix. “Rex,” he says as your captain practically runs over to you, “what have you done?”

By the time Rex finishes his story, you’re in tears, equal parts angry and hurt. You’re in his quarters, a glorified office really. He’s got a table and chairs, presumably to have meetings with his troopers, and there’s a bed and small kitchenette in the corner. “How could you not tell me? Why wouldn’t you tell me?”

He runs his hand across his face then settles by resting his head in them. “I don’t know, I don’t know.”

“Did you think I just wouldn’t know? Rex, kriff, he was one of my best friends.”

“I was going to tell you, I just couldn’t.”

“But why?” you ask, biting back the anger that threatens to slip through, “and why leave early today, and why lie and tell Kix I was sick? What is going on?”

“I don’t know.” His hand meets the table with a force that startles you and you jump back in the chair you’re sitting in. His gaze softens for a second, and you can see him move to reach out to you, then hold himself back. “I just figured I would work it out eventually.”

“It? Rex, I mourned Tup with you, I’ve been here with you, you can’t keep stuff like this from me.”

“I just couldn’t hurt you, you were wrecked over Tup.”

“Well, yeah, of course. He was my friend too.”

“But if I told you about Fives, you would’ve been in more pain. I can’t keep putting you in pain, I won’t be the reason.”

You scoff at this, “You wouldn’t be the reason, the death of my friend would be the reason, and that wasn’t your fault.”

He winces at those words, and you feel a pang of guilt at the insinuation that he thinks it was. “I’m putting you in danger.”

“You’ve also actively rescued me from danger, so, that cancels out,” you cross your arms over your chest, sending daggers his way. “What are you doing here? What’s your play?”

He forgets how blunt you can be, forgets how years of being coddled and getting your way have made you lack some of the patience and willingness to not get an answer from some of the other people he’s met. It’s what he likes about you, actually, your brazenness in getting what you want. “I’m doing what’s best for you.”

“So doing what’s best for me is ditching me early and telling everyone I’ve caught a cold? What’s your goal here Rex?”

“I am not what’s best for you.”

He says it like it's a definitive fact, like there’s no arguing it. You’re blinking now, faster and faster and you can feel a coil in your chest tighten as the weight of his words echo around you. “Excuse me? Are you breaking up with me?”

“Breaking up implies that I want to do this.”

“Ok great, then what the fuck are you saying?”

It’s his turn to blink, you rarely curse in basic, you’ve told him before it’s below your station. “I can’t continue to put you in danger, so, for your sake and safety, I can’t be with you anymore.”

“As your client,” you move your hands to emphasize the irony in the statement, “No, I say permission denied, I still require protection, to some degree. The council says so.”

“I know,” his head is back in his hands, “I’ve already put in a request to have your care be overseen by the 212th.”

“I’m sorry?”

“You’ve always liked Cody and his boys.”

“Rex, that’s different and you know it.”

“Cody is good, he’s a Commander. You’ll be safer with him than with me anyway.”

“I’m not dating Cody, Rex.”

He sighs, exasperated and rolls back in his chair, running his fingers along the bridge of his nose.

“Have you told Kix and Jesse? They won’t let you do this.” You spit at him, arms squeezing tight around each other. You’re certain your finger pads are going to leave tiny purple marks on the squishy tissue of your arm tomorrow.

“Well then it’s a great thing they’re not captains of this battalion.”

And that’s it. He’s decided then. You stand after a beat, mouth opening and closing like a fish before gaping at him. You stand in a fury, clutching your arms around your torso and making a beeline for the door before turning back around, finger pointing at him with venomous precision, “If you think I’m going to sit here and let you ruin your life, push everything away that wants to help you, you’ve got another thing coming.” You stand at the door as it slides open, tears running down your face as a confused Jesse and Kix watch you burst out, “when you’re done with whatever this is,” you gesture to him wildly, “then you can let me know.”

* * *

“What the fuck did you do?” Jesse hisses to Rex as you practically sprint down the hall, tears running wildly down your face. He has to admit, even in this shape, you hold yourself so straight, so proud that Rex wants to fall to his knees and worship you more than ever. With every resounding click of your heels it feels like his heart is being torn more, but in this moment, he has to keep you safe. He has to keep everyone he cares about safe.

“I have to keep her safe, she’s not safe with me, not now.”

“Or’dinii,” Kix mumbles, running his hand over his hair. “You think this is good for her? You know she was closer to Fives than half this battalion was.”

“I know,” Rex groans, “I can’t be the one that keeps hurting her.” “Rex, we’re soldiers. We’re all gonna die, you can’t hold everyone’s death as your own personal responsibility.” Jesse says, pity just barely coating the anger laced in his voice. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“No, it was. He trusted me and it was my fault. And that’s exactly the point,” Rex motions the two of them into his quarters and pulls out his datapad. On it are covers he begins to swipe through of tabloids featuring you; you smiling, dripping in diamonds, spilling wine on your friends, laughing. There’s the image of the day you confessed you were seeing someone, the day that Rex vowed to himself he would marry you, make you his. “Look, look how happy she is in all of these,” he gestures again to the tabloids, Jesse flips through them while Kix rolls his eyes, he’s seen these before. “Look how happy. She deserves to be that happy all the time, with someone who won’t put a target on her back, with someone she can be with publicly.”

“You’re being idiotic,” Kix exclaims, throwing his hands in the air, “in every single one of these covers, you guys were together. She was happy because after all these swanky events and schmoozing and expensive champagne, she was going to meet up with us at 79’s for cheap drinks and for you. And you’re throwing that all away over what? Her also losing someone?”

“She can learn to be happy without me,” he gruffs, sitting back down his chair, snatching the datapad back and pulling up mission reports. The discussion has ended, and Kix makes his way out of the room, followed by Jesse.

The latter responds before the door shuts, “Sure. Maybe she can. But can you learn to be happy without her?”

* * *

Jil, Mora, Boa, and Carana are at your house faster than if you’d called the fire brigade. They come in with fluffy blankets and your favorite Mon Cala takeout food, spicy noodles and warm roasted veggies in a salty soup broth. You didn’t realize you were crying until Jil envelopes you in a hug, lekku swinging wildly as the rest of the girls remove the pillows and comforted from your bed, making a pillow nest on the floor of your living room as they get to work setting up the perfect show on the holo. “Walk us through the situation,” she hums, and guides you to the nest. Your hair is promptly thrust into Mora’s capable hands, and she rubs her fingers through your scalp, helping remove the tension as she works your hair into a variety of braids, just for the feeling of being cared for. Carana and Boa are listening intently while Jil fills up your glass of wine, nodding along and sighing as you recount the story to them.

“Death makes people do crazy things, I know he’s being unreasonable, but I don’t think this will be permanent.” Mora states, and the group nods.

“You know that I would probably kill people for you,” Jil starts, and Boa looks at her girlfriend and smiles in a knowing way as if to agree, “but I think he’ll come around. He has to earn it, but I think he’s just processing his grief.”

“But what if he doesn’t?” You whisper, and you hate how pathetic you feel. “I’ve always worried I would be more in love with him than he was with me, what if it’s true.”

The girls vehemently shake their heads in disagreement when their input is disrupted by CeeDee’s mechanic voice. “Excuse me, my lady. Clone Medic ‘Kix,’ is at the door.”

Carana is the one who gets up first, not having met any of the clones at a very personal extent. Kix is in fact standing there with a bouquet of flowers and a box of small cakes, looking shocked at the angry Devaronian woman standing in front of him.

“I come in peace, and come bearing gifts!” He thrusts the flowers in front of him before making eye contact with Carana. You pretended not to notice the way they looked at each other before he cleared his throat, passing a cautious Carana and settling down on the floor across from you.

“Hey Kix,” you sniff, graciously accepting the box of cakes from him as he sits cross legged on the floor.

“How’s our girl doing? About everything?” Carana moves to sit behind him after putting your flowers in a vase, curiously inspecting the clone. You swear you see the tips of her ears turn red.

“I’ve been better, I guess.” Gods you feel pathetic again, putting your head in your hands, “He’s just being so stupid Kix,”

“Sooo stupid,” he agrees, and the girls laugh at the immediacy of his response. “I actually called him an or’dinii to his face today.”

“I’m not familiar with that one?”

“It’s-”

“Moron, or idiot.” Carana remarks, and Kix turns around wildly to face her.

“You speak Mando’a?”

She shrugs, “I like to learn swear words in other languages, so that way I know when people are being rude to me.”

He nods at that, holding her gaze for a beat, before turning his attention back to you.

The rest of the night goes quietly, you watch romcoms and sad movies and you and Kix convince the girls to watch the holodrama you’re obsessed with. It helps, your mind is off Rex and even off Tup and Fives, but there’s still a pang in your chest that hurts if your mind wanders even the slightest bit. At the end of the night the girls have fallen asleep in the nest on the floor, and you wake as Kix slowly wiggles his way out between Carana and Boa. “Leaving so soon?” You whisper, and he smirks, before gesturing out to your balcony. You nod and follow him, blanket tucked around your body as you both move to sit out on the floor, voices obscured by the rush of traffic.

He tugs at the black shirt you’ve got on underneath the blanket. You’re fortunate no one else has recognized. “This is nice, what is this, designer?”

You swat at the man beside you before heaving a sigh out of your throat. “You know, last night, when I was out here with Rex, he told me not to worry about Fives anymore.”

Kix winces and leans back on his hands. “He’s told you we aren’t really built to grieve, right?”

You nod.

“Well… we aren’t really built to love either, but you see how that played out.” He gestures to you and you smile in spite of yourself. “He’s doing what he thinks is best. All that he knows how to do. He’ll come around.”

“Did you really call him a moron?”

He laughs, “you should’ve seen Jesse, called him out in front of the whole garrison, he yanked us into his office so fast I thought he’d pop Jesse’s chestplate off.” He gestures back into the apartment, “the flowers are from him too. Course, they’re technically from all of us, because we’re all apologizing for our brother being a colossal dickhead but,” he shrugs, “what can you do? Not all of us were created intellectually equal.”

You punch his arm in a mock fight, “watch yourself, dickhead or not I’m still in love with him.”

“She curses! In basic!”

“And she’ll do it again if you keep this up.” You pull your knees to your chest and rest your chin on their tops. “Rex said he’s assigning me to Cody.”

“I’ve already talked to Cody, he bet me 20 credits that in five rotations Rex will be begging for him to switch back.”

“And? Will Cody?”

Kix looks shocked that you’d even asked. “Oh absolutely, but he’s going to make Rex probably polish his armor for a month.”

You smile to yourself before looking at Kix, and thinking about how fortunate you are to have him as a friend. “Can I tell you something kind of mean?”

He nods, “You actually get a mean pass to us for like the next week at least.”

You laugh a little and look out over into the city, “Knowing what I know now…it’s easy to imagine Rex with me, like physically seeing him and being with him, because you know, he’s different to me personally, and we have a different relationship. Even in the beginning it was easy because you know he’s got the,” you gesture to your hair as an indication of his bleached buzz cut. “It’s harder than I thought, with you.”

“You have a crowd of soldiers who would run into a burning building for you. If Rex wasn’t in the picture, Fives would’ve been first in line, and I have the unfortunate burden of having the same haircut as him.”

“You do have the same haircut.” And the tears start. Kix pulls you into a side hug, rubbing your shoulders as you cry, not for Rex but truly at the loss of your friend, and he sighs.

“It’s not mean to say we remind you of each other. Not from you. You know all of us as people. You knew Fives as a person, you knew Tup,” he squeezes your shoulders, “we all carry those deaths with us. Rex carries them the hardest, because he’s a captain, he’s like our big brother. And he carries people you haven’t even met. There was this one trooper, his name was Echo, you would’ve loved Echo. And Hevy too. He carries them all with him, every day, even though he thinks he doesn’t. And you’ve lost people too, people that Rex doesn’t carry. What was her name again?”

“Satine.” You sniff, thinking of the other blonde you loved, how radiant and strong she was, what it felt like to watch her watch her world be destroyed.

“Right. Satine. And your mother, if you want to get philosophical about it. But Rex was able to help you through it. And he needs you, whether or not he realizes it.” He pauses a bit, “Did he ever tell you about Umbara?”

“No, what happened on Umbara?”

He winces, “It was…it was bad. A Jedi who was using us as blaster fodder. Had has going against each other, he told Rex to execute us for treason.”

“And he stood up to him?”

“Clearly,” he gestures to himself, “we’re still here. Point is, he’s been through a lot these past few months alone, but the months before, when he had you and things were better, I’ve seen a change in him I can’t even begin to tell you about.”

“I want to help him, I know he’s hurting,” you sigh, unclenching your legs, “but he hurt me, by trying not to hurt me.”

“And you don’t have to forgive him now, but what couple hasn’t been tested?”

You sit with that thought for a while in silence, just enjoying the companionship of a friend and the thoughts he leaves you with. “Speaking of couples,” you test, poking his side, “What do you think of Carana?”

* * *

You go see Padmé early the next morning, she looks immaculate as always with her hair pulled up into two high buns and a shiny silver dress and you are…certainly here!

“So, I was thinking we finish up some work on article five, and then I have an idea and oh my-” she covers her mouth as you slump in the chair in front of her. Sure, your hair is brushed back and you’re in one of the dresses Padmé has gifted you, but you feel like a wreck. Your conversation with Kix had you motivated, but also completely emotionally run down. “Moteé, can you come here? And bring my makeup kit.”

You laugh in spite of yourself and Padmé moves to sit beside you on a couch in her office. “What happened to you?” “Rex and I are,” you pause. Allegedly, you’re done, but Kix has given you the hope that he just needs time, and you aren’t sure how you feel. “Well, I don’t know what we are, but not particularly together.”

“Oh, oh I’m sorry. You must think me a terrible friend, calling you in here so early in the morning.”

You wave her off with a slight motion, “I needed the distraction.”

She grins at this and stands up. “That’s actually excellent news,” she moves to bring her datapad to the two of you on the couch and taps an icon to project a holo from Queen Apailana herself, standing regally in front of the two of you. “Queen Apailana wants us to come to Naboo to discuss some of the finer details of the bill. I haven’t been home in too long, and I thought it would be a nice escape for us anyway.” She sets the datapad down as the recorded projection of Apailana speaks about the specifics of your visit. “I think this is just what you need. We can stay out in the Lake Country, some time off world will give you both some much needed space.”

You jump at the opportunity, eager to get out of the suddenly suffocating system and into something better. “On one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“I don’t want anyone knowing where I am.”

Padmé sighs at that, “You know that’s challenging.”

“Commander Cody has been assigned to my care. You and I both know he wants nothing to do with ‘babysitting’ me, he’s just too gracious to deny it. Besides, I don’t want anyone following me.” You open your datapad to show the newest tabloid, a picture of you yesterday outside your apartment, looking every bit of a mess as you feel.

“They used to come after me too,”

“I actually live for this,” you wave your hand in the air, brushing it off, “but I don’t want the attention on the bill to turn into attention to me.”

Padmé weighs your words for a moment and thinks about it for a long while. “I’m long past requiring protection when I visit Naboo. With the Royal Guard I can’t imagine you’d be unsafe. We’ll list you as a handmaiden on the passenger manifest, no one will know until we’ve returned.”

“Thank you, truly, thank you.” You grasp her hands and she pulls you in for a hug. You’ve always appreciated the closeness you felt to her, the effect of having a big sister, in a way. You imagine this is how the clones feel with their brothers, the added layer of safety it must bring.

* * *

You’re loading up the yacht with your trunk in the dead of night when Moteé arrives at the entrance to your building. “Senator, my lady.” She dips slightly into a curtsy, and you smile back at the handmaiden you’ve become close to.

“Moteé has agreed to watch your home, Ellé will be staying with me, since CeeDee is accompanying us to Naboo?”

On cue, the silvery droid walks towards the yacht, and a member of the guard follows closely, the last trunk in his arms. “Ladies, I believe we’re ready to leave?” You turn around to address Moteé, who places a slender hand up as if to silence you. “I have been given strict guidance to maintain your home, and deter any potential…visitors from finding out where you are. Please enjoy your rest, my lady.” You smile back at her, so grateful for this young woman you barely know, and turn around to link arms with Padmé as you walk up towards the ship, heading off to the vacation you’ve been dreaming of.

“This is incredible!” Your face is smushed up against the viewports along the ship as Captain Typho flew you over the majestic lakes and islands that dotted the more exotic locations on Naboo’s ecosystem. “How did you ever leave?”

Padmé smiled at you and placed a hand on the back of your shoulder, “Sometimes, when you love something, and you want to make it better, it’s necessary to leave it behind.”

You turn back to her slowly, weighing the words heavy in your mind, but she’s already turned to walk towards the ramp of the ship, smoothing her dress with her steps, completely oblivious to the words she’s spoken. You’re dressed and ready for the meeting with the queen, in a sweeping magenta dress that compliments Padmé’s purple nicely. A section of your hair is pulled back in a gold net, and the rest of it hangs back pin straight down your back, and you’ve got two golden dots on the apples of your cheeks. “It’s a very popular Nabooian style.” She had said, stepping back and looking at her finished work when she applied it.

The ship has decelerated, and you can only assume that means you’ve landed in Theed. You’re correct, you realize, as the ramp drops and you’re met by a legion of Royal Guards and Queen Apailana herself. She’s so young, and it makes you look at the woman to your left, how mature she seems. Just how long has she been doing this? Padmé, now Senator Amidala, looks back and smiles at you, before stepping forward to bow to the young queen. “Your majesty.” She states, lowering herself gently in front of her. You’ve been directed to bow lower, as Padmé as a former queen herself is held to different protocol. This is easy for you, this is what you were bred for, a Princess in your own right.

“Senator, your Grace,” she responds, addressing you both with a smile and firm eye contact. “Please follow me to the palace. It seems we have much to discuss.”

Theed is remarkable, with sweeping cliff faces and waterfalls, a lively town and families everywhere. The war has truly left this place mostly untouched, though remnants of the occupation leave their mark everywhere. You walk past a memorial to those who lost their lives when the Trade Federation invaded, and you don’t miss the way that Padmé looks at it. The walk into the palace is short, for security and timing reasons you’re sure, and you’re immediately impressed by the open, marble spaces of the palace. Most of all, you’re struck by how much it reminds you of home. The sweeping staircases, the busy people running in and out of rooms, the attentive care everyone shows the Queen, and you and the Senator, by extension. It’s all becoming crushingly obvious, how you haven’t really even mourned the loss of your home, your family really, being so absolved in the comfort of Rex. It’s almost suffocating, and Padmé must notice the way your face goes white as she links arms with yours. “We’re only here for an hour, and then we go back to my family home,” she whispers, eyes still looking around the palace. “I’ll have the remainder of the meetings take place there.”

The meeting was quick, she was right, but productive. You’re making headway on the bill, and Queen Apailana was optimistic about the rest of the Chommell Sector also accepting clone citizens. You ride back to Padmé’s home in a speeder, silence masked by the sound of the warm wind wiping past your head. She’s settled with her hand over yours, sending you sympathetic smiles as you speed towards her home.Varykino is beautiful, perhaps the most beautiful thing you’ve seen today, with its red domed ceilings and terracotta walls. As the speeder stops you smile at Captain Typho and your droid, both standing on the entryway. “We’ve gone ahead and unpacked your things, my ladies.” He says, meeting you both at the speeder and running to each side to offer you both a hand on stepping out, which is proving more challenging in the layers of skirts you’re clothed in.

“Thank you Captain. I trust you’ll have a lovely time with your family?”

“Absolutely, you know Mariek is ecstatic whenever we get a chance to come home.” He smiles, speaking fondly of his wife. She smiles and sends him off with a wave, giving the two of you time to settle.

“Let’s sit out here for a moment, okay?” she leads you by your arm to the sweeping walkways lining the outside of the villa, overlooking the lake and islands amidst perfectly manicured trees and flowers. She pulls you down some steps towards a dock, chairs perched on it, so you’re level with the setting sun and the lake. “Are you ok?”

You sit in the chair beside her, and attempt to cross you legs beneath amongst the layers of chiffon. “I…don’t know.” You lean back, closing your eyes and placing your face up to the warmth of the sun. “I don’t think I ever really processed it all, how does someone even begin to process their mother attempting to use them to start a coup?”

“Not well,” she waves down one of the handmaidens that has been loosely following and asks her to bring two spritzes. “You’ve been through a lot the past few months.”

“And the worst part of it all is I would do it all again, I’d lose my home, I’d lose my mother, Satine, Tup, Fives, all of it, just for an opportunity to relive my life with Rex.”

“I get it,” she sighs, and holds your arms on her chest, “it’s not easy to admit to being selfish, and wanting things for yourself.”

You open one eye and look at her, “Am I a bad person?”

She scoffs. “No, far from it… I’ve been selfish too, you know. Even more than you know.” She reaches over and puts a hand on your knee. “Tell me about your home.”

“It must’ve been similar to your time as Queen, I’m sure you don’t want to hear about it.”

“Have you spoken with Rex about it?”

“He goes through enough everyday, I was perfectly content being strong about things for him, I don’t need to give him more worries.”

She exhales and reaches over to grab the spritzes from the young woman coming back, offering her a thank you before passing one to you. “You remind me of someone I know very well?”

“In a good way or a bad way?”

“You’re both martyrs,” she says with a laugh, but with the way her eyes warm you know she means it fondly.

“My home was…stiff. Large and grand, my father always had attendants, and my mother was constantly at appearances, and when I was raised I had the expectation that I would marry someone good, bring honor to the family.” You take a sip and stretch your arms, “I had etiquette classes and riding classes and dance classes,” you list them on your fingers, “and then I came to Naboo, and I wasn’t a princess, or even really a Lady, I was just…”

“Just you. But a very pretty, very young you with a lot credits to burn.” She laughs, and you roll your eyes but nod.

“It was liberating. And I liked it. I still do like it. I like the attention, the freedom, the life. But this,” you use your drink to gesture to the villa, the grandiose nature, “this still reminds me of home. Or the home I used to have.”

“You can always go back.”

“Mmm,” you sip your drink and close your eyes, “maybe. But not the same way that I could have before. It will never be the same.”

Padmé sighs and stands up, giving your knee a pat before heading back to the villa. “Then perhaps one day you’ll go back and make new memories.”

* * *

You’re asleep now, tucked in the plush sheets of one of the many guest rooms in the villa, window cracked to hear the sound of waves rocking against the lakeshore. Padmé, however, is awake, pacing, and sending a holo to the disgruntled Jedi Knight in front of her.

“So you’re just going to leave in the middle of the night and not tell me?” Anakin says, face in his hand. He’s frustrated, but not really, and he can see by the way the Senator is pacing that this isn’t really the time for him to be complaining.

“I’m glad you see the irony in that statement too,” she says, and he smirks in response. “Ani, what is he thinking?”

“I, I don’t know what you mean.”

“You’ve never been a good liar with me, and you know it.” She tuts.

His fingers return to pinch his nose bridge. “He’s distracted, and it’s going to be dangerous if he doesn’t get it sorted out soon. Today in training he missed a target so badly he almost took out a shiny.”

She has to bite back her laughter and sits down on the bed, bringing the holo closer so they're sitting across from one another. “She’s hurting.”

“I don’t doubt it. I can’t say I blame her, she’s young and in love.”

“She’s two years older than you.” “I know,” he says, looking at the woman across from him, “that’s why I can’t blame her. You know how I get when we fight.”

She smiles, and thinks of the way her husband’s emotions contort around her, so passionately in love. “She hurts about everything. About him, about the people she’s lost, her home. She won’t open up to him because she won’t hurt him. Does that remind you of someone?”

He rolls his eyes, but looks closer at his wife. “I’ll keep an eye on him, okay?”

“Don’t tell him where we are, Anakin.”

He flashes a toothy grin at the holo before disconnecting it, “You know I don’t make promises I can’t keep.”

#captain rex x reader #captain rex #captain rex x f!reader #rex x reader #clone trooper rex #commander rex #sw prequels #tcw fic #tcw #buzzcut season

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brandyllyn · 2 years

Text

Cyclamen

Part IV

Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels x f!reader

Summary: "You can be angry at the world all you want sugar, but I don’t think you have much cause to be angry at me. I didn’t kill your soulmate." Words: 1.5k

#Soulmate AU

Series Masterlist My Masterlist

Rated: T. Warnings: Language.

"Are you sure?" Ginger asked for at least the fourth time.

It had been two weeks since the night you walked out on Jack. You couldn’t blame him for what had happened. You’d known going into it what he was offering. Known exactly how little was on the table. You had agreed to his paltry offering with eyes wide open.

But did he really have to rub it in?

It’s worth waiting for.

You’d seen him since that night of course. The next day he had cautiously approached your workbench with a raised eyebrow and lord only knew what words on his lips. You had given him a bright smile, shouldering past him and giving a rundown on the work on the Bronco. His expression was puzzled, and even through your own brittle composure you could see he wanted to say more. There was, in your opinion, no need to let him.

Things could go back to normal. Things would go back to normal.

With one small exception.

"Once we remove the flores animae they’re gone. I can’t bring them back."

"I want them gone," you said, perched on a stool in Ginger’s lab. "Not just the ones on my face, all of them. Every last one."

"It won’t change…" Ginger fumbled for words. "I mean, the next time he gets injured you’re going to get another one. There’s nothing that can stop the connection except-"

"Death," you finished for her with forced cheerfulness. "And while the thought has occurred to me, I don’t like my chances against an Agent."

Ginger gave you a soft smile. "You wouldn’t do it anyway."

"No. I wouldn’t."

She nodded and turned to her worktable. "We’ll start with the one on your temple, then move through the other more obvious ones. The effects can be disorienting. I’ve had people report migraines, nausea, and dizziness; so we’ll take it slow and see how much we can handle in a session."

You nodded as she talked, watching her input data into a tablet. "Thank you." You reached out and laid a hand on her arm, squeezing it lightly. "I appreciate this."

"I just wish you’d tell him," Ginger sighed, looking at you over her glasses. "He has a right to know."

"To know what?" You scoffed, hopping down and moving over to the table with the laser that was ready to change your life. "That I’m a freak of nature?"

"You’re not," Ginger insisted with a frown.

"Have you ever heard of anyone like me?"

"No, but that doesn’t mean-"

"Ginger, it’s fine. Really. Let’s get this over with so I can move on with my life okay?"

With a resigned sigh she nodded and gestured at the nearby contraption. "You’ll probably want to take your sweater off, it’s going to be hot in the chamber."

"Yes ma’am," you mock saluted her. You hid a grin when she rolled her eyes, pulling your sweater up and briefly getting tangled in the mass of wool. It was just your luck someone would walk in that exact moment. You heard the slide of the door and jerked the sweater off quickly, yanking at the bottom of your tank top with one hand as you tossed it to the side.

"Champ said you had some-"

Of course. Who else would it be but Jack, pausing in the doorway and staring at you. No, not at you. At your flores animae, crisp and vibrant and stark; splashed across your temple like a glowing neon sign.

You were so used to being aware of his every move you saw his lips part, saw the way he swallowed, the look of sympathy that flashed over his face when he saw the obvious. "Pardon, am I interrupting?"

"Not a bit!" Ginger chirped and you glared at her. "I just need to run down to research and get a… thing."

"Ginger," you growled and she turned to face you, blocking Jack from your line of sight.

"Tell him. It’s a sign."

"Ginger," you tried again but she was gone, darting past Jack and out the door.

Silence settled over the lab. At the door, Jack shuffled his feet and you tried not to look at him.

"How long?" He asked finally. You glanced up and he gestured by his left eye. "How long have you…?"

"Few weeks."

He grunted and moved into the room, leaning his hip on a table about ten feet away. "The night we… I thought I saw a bit of red. Did you cover it?"

"Yes." A sigh escaped him and you saw him trace the toe of his boot on the ground. Looking for all the world like a child about to be scolded.

"I’m sorry."

You snorted, crossing your arms and finally met his gaze head on. "For what Jack? What exactly are you sorry for?"

If he heard the hint of condescension in your voice he ignored it. "For the way I talked about things last time. If I’d known-"

"If you’d known you never would have fucked me right?"

His eyes narrowed and he took a step closer. "You can be angry at the world all you want sugar, but I don’t think you have much cause to be angry at me. I didn’t kill your soulmate." He paused and suddenly he looked hesitant, "Did I?"

You couldn’t help the choked laugh that escaped you, reaching up and covering your face with your hands as you fought the emotions trying to escape you. "No Jack," you mumbled into your hands, "you didn’t kill him."

Strong, warm fingers enfolded yours and pulled them down. He was close. So close. Your body called to his, swaying forward before you caught yourself. Gently, oh so gently, his hand cupped your cheek, fingertips grazing the rose. "Do you know what it was?"

"Bullet," you said without thinking.

Jack’s eyes narrowed. "Bullet? To the head?" His hand pulled away and cautiously touched his own temple. "I know how that feels."

"I know you do."

You shouldn’t have talked to him. Should have asked him to leave or walked out the moment he showed up. You were so close, so close to being rid of the damn things. But the wheels were turning in Jack’s head and he gently looked over your body, lightly touching the small flowers on the back of your shoulder.

"I got stabbed in the shoulder my last round out."

"I know."

Jack’s brows were drawn together and you knew exactly what thoughts were going through his head. You also knew the only conclusion he could draw was impossible. It wasn’t how this worked.

"Are you saying…?" he trailed off, reeling back a little and shaking his head a little. His fingertips skated up your neck until he cupped your face in his palm. "Is it…?"

You gave him a sad smile, leaning into his touch. "You’re my soulmate."

A rush of emotions flooded over his face, one chasing the other. Then he was kissing you, lips pressed tight to yours. "Sugar I-" Another kiss, pulling you closer with a hand on the back of your neck, "I never thought I’d have another chance…"

You let him, let him hold you close. Another moment. Another memory to have of him. The joy in his eyes, tinged only by the faintest hint of confusion. "You must be the most careful woman in history. I had no idea. Why didn’t you tell me?"

With a small, sad smile you pulled away from him, pushing his chest with your palm until he stepped back. You took his left hand in yours, matching the flowers on your palm to where the scar would be on his. Slowly, you turned your arm over, showing Jack the thin white scar that ran along the inside. "I got this a couple years ago working on the Silver Pony. Lot of things went wrong at once and I nearly cut myself to the bone."

Jack’s fingers lightly traced the puckered flesh and you shivered before you reached out to him, pushing his left sleeve up so his forearm was visible.

It was bare.

Jack frowned. "I don’t understand."

"It’s simple, Jack. You’re my soulmate," you sighed as you let his hand go, "but I’m not yours."

Part V: Iris

Taglist

#agent whiskey #agent jack whiskey daniels #agent jack daniels x reader #agent jack whiskey daniels imagine #jack whiskey daniels x reader #soulmate au

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sunrisefairy · 3 years

Text

My muse

Pairing: Art student!Sirius x reader Warning: NSFW! MDNI 18+, swearing, fingering, unprotected sex, if I’ve forgotten anything please let me know! Summary: Sirius is struggling with an art assignment until he finds inspiration in his girlfriend. Or the one when Sirius and reader bang on a canvas. A/N: wrote this for @anxiousblanketqueen writing challenge, I had a lot of fun with this one Jill so I hope you enjoy it too. Based of the prompt Art Sex. This article is helpful with visualising the art work!

Taglist: if you’re crossed out i couldn’t tag you @theweasleyslut @anxiousblanketqueen @accioweaslcy @widowdays @inglourious-imagines @garbdump @star-sunshine-sage @weelittleweasley @a-dusty-emerald @starlightkell @omghufflepuff @weasleysprincess @j-amespotter @gryffindorgirl To be added to the taglist click here

“Oh my god this is fucking bullshit!” Sirius groans before throwing his paint brush, it landing with a clatter on the hardwood floor of his art studio.

You hear all the commotion from the kitchen and decided to check in on your boyfriend. It was nearing the end of the term and Sirius had been very agitated and snappy from all the stress.

“You okay babe?” you poke your head through the door to see Sirius standing in the middle of the room, practically death staring a half-finished painting resting on one of his wooden easels.

“Fucking bullshit,” your boyfriend mumbles, clenching and unclenching his paint stained hands.

You slowly walk up to him and wind your arms around his waist and kissing his back through his white cotton t-shirt, “wanna talk to me about it?” you whisper.

Sirius twists in your grip until he’s facing you allowing you to get a good look at him; his shoulders are tense, his jaw clenched tightly from the pressure of school and his eyebrows are furrowed which has become a regular facial expression of him the past few weeks. You reach your hand up and delicately trace the worry lines in his forehead. Sirius immediately relaxes at your touch; his faces becomes more natural and his shoulders slump. Since dating Sirius you’ve come to understand how much he struggles to talk about his feelings. He doesn’t like dumping his problems on those around him as it makes him feel like a burden. So you try your best to be patient with him and always remind him you’ll be here no matter what.

“Just stressed about school,” Sirius murmurs his eyes looking down at the floor between your bodies.

You let your hand fall down to his shoulders, lightly squeezing, “yeah? What about school?”

Sirius’ hands find their way under the t-shirt you’re wearing which evidently is one of his that you’ve stolen, he lets his fingers trace patterns on your warm skin. “Just this one assignment is making me go insane. Can’t seem to get it right.” He gestures to the canvas sitting in the middle of the room.

If you’re being honest, anything Sirius paints leaves you memorised and evokes numerous emotions from you. You are constantly telling your boyfriend how talented he is and every time he’ll roll his eyes at your compliment. “I think it looks amazing babe,” you state truthfully.

To no surprise, Sirius rolls his eyes at your comment. “yes, well you have to say that ‘cos you’re my girlfriend.”

Sirius leaves your embrace and walks back over to the painting, crossing his arms over his chest and frowning so intensely you think laser beam might shoot from his eyes and through this artwork. He starts mumbling again, irritation is laced thickly on his words, “representation of raw love,” he mocks, “what a load of utter crap. My professor is so pretentious, the only instruction he gives us for this stupid bloody assignment is ‘make a piece which represents raw love’ what does that even mean? I’ll tell you what it is, it’s fucking bullshit.”

You shuffle closer to Sirius so you’re standing at his side, both staring at his current piece. You’re not really sure how to help, you’re no artist but you hate seeing Sirius so worked up. “What are other people in your class doing for the assignment? Maybe you can gather inspiration from them?”

Sirius shrugs and stuffs his hands in his dark jeans which are covered in paint splatters, “Kirra’s doing a photography piece of her husband and kids, Gage is making some sculpture of his dog.”

“Alright,” you pause for a brief moment “well maybe think of ways people show love or how you show love, like real emotional love ya’know?” you feel like you’re grasping at straws here and making up some bullshit.

You glance over at Sirius, he’s biting his bottom lip deep in thought, you stay silent not really knowing what else to say to assist him. Slowly a look of realisation washes over your boyfriend’s face, eyes wide and a grin gracing his lips. “Holy shit baby, you’re a genius!”

Butterflies erupt deep in your belly from the praise and you giggle when Sirius starts peppering your face with tiny kisses to show his gratitude. Eventually he connects your lips together in what you thought would be a short but sweet kiss. However, you squeak in surprise when Sirius quickly deepens the kiss, his hands gripping tightly at your waist before slowly moving them down to grope at your arse.

“You should probably get working on your project then Sirius,” you breathe against his mouth, disappointed to stop things before they get too heated but you know Sirius’ inspiration comes and goes in waves and if you wait until after the two of you get off, then he might fall back into feeling unmotivated again.

“I am working on it,” you pull away confusion all over your face.

“What do you mean?” you query.

Sirius chuckles and moves away from you to move the canvas and easel to the edge of the room out of the way, he starts laying out a large piece of cream canvas fabric on the floor. “Think about it, what’s a way people show love?” he asks you, squirting numerous colours of paint carelessly onto the fabric.

“Babe there’s a lot of way people show love,” you answer puzzled, what did making out with you have to do with his piece? And why was he now squirting colours onto a blank canvas.

Sirius continues, “yes I know that but what about a raw, emotional way people show love? a primal way to show love so to speak?”

When you finally look back up at Sirius’ face you’re met with a cheeky smirk that you know all too well. It’s not until he removes his shirt do you connect the dots. “Sirius I’m not letting you fuck me on this canvas for a university project for god’s sake.”

The raven-haired boy’s grin only widens as he slowly moves closer to you, his eyes burning into your skin. You feel hot and vulnerable under his gaze, it’s like he’s stalking his prey. Your breath hitches in your throat when Sirius’ body is pressed flush against your own and you can feel his hot breath fanning your face as he speaks in a low, hushed tone, “I’m not going to fuck you,” his voice drops an octave like it does when he’s feeling horny. Just the tone of his voice alone causes a wetness to pool in your panties. “Wanna make love to you baby. Wanna show you how much I love you, can I do that darlin’?”

You bite your lip trying to swallow the moan that is threatening to spill from your mouth when Sirius starts leaving sloppy kisses on your neck. Damn Sirius Black for knowing all your weak spots.

“Just want to make you feel good baby girl,” he tugs the off t-shirt your body. “Can I do that? Can I make you feel good?”

You close your eyes and focus on Sirius’ large hands cupping and massaging your breasts tenderly, you always were putty in his hands. Fuck it you thought. “Yes, please make love to me Sirius.”

The boy grins and whispers a thank you against your skin. He takes no time in removing both of your clothes until you’re standing in front of each other naked. You and Sirius take the opportunity to study each other. You gaze over all the curves and lines on Sirius’ body, the way his muscle flex and move, the freckle on his hip bone, the tiny scar on his left shoulder, the coarse hair of his happy trail. He was beautiful, stunning, breathtaking. And he was all yours.

Sirius helps you lay down against the canvas, you gasp at the cold, squishy feeling of the paint beneath you. It feels foreign but not unwelcoming, you wriggle a little, enjoying the way the substance slides around. Sirius kneels between your legs, relishing in the way your chest is already rising and falling frantically from arousal, “so gorgeous darlin,” he traces a finger down from your collar bone all the way to your core finding it soaked already.

You squirm when Sirius teases your entrance with his finger, the cold paint moving and mixing into the canvas under you. A quiet whine escapes your lips the moment Sirius pushes his index finger inside you and starts pumping it steadily.

“Need you to be loud for me baby, want to know how good I make you feel ‘kay?” Sirius commands trying to get into a comfortable position in between your spread legs, his body sliding slighting from the paint.

You answer him with a loud moan. Soon Sirius has added 2 more fingers into the mix causing you to wriggle and rock your hips into his hand, “so good Sirius, fuck.”

With his free hand, Sirius grips your thigh trying to keep you still, blue paint smears against the soft flesh of your thigh and Sirius is captured by how striking you look laying here right now, chest flushed, and eyes closed. The way your body is squirming from pleasure is causing the paint on the canvas to blend and mix together. Sirius scoops up some red paint from the fabric and swipes it across your breasts and over your nipples, “so pretty.” He mumbles tugging and pinching your nipples.

“Sirius,” you pant desperately, “please. Need more.”

Sirius withdraws his fingers earning a whine from you and strokes his cock a few times before lining it up with your entrance, “shh darlin’. M’here to make you feel good, yeah? Want me to make you feel good?”

You wrap your legs around him urging him to finally push into you. You needed it, needed to feel Sirius stretch you out and fill you up with his cock, needed to hear Sirius gasp and groan into your ear, needed to feel him rock his hips into yours, “please Sirius.”

With a low groan escapes from both of you when Sirius finally pushes into you, Sirius begins thrusting his hips deep and slow into yours, both of your relishing in the feeling and sensation coursing your bodies. Hands around running along the others body, squeezing, tugging, scratching at skin, leaving traces of paint in its wake. Sirius has buried his head in the crook of your neck, his hair tickling your cheek, mumbling how beautiful you look spread out for him.

Deeper, you need it deeper. Wrapping your legs tightly around your boyfriend, you manage to roll the two of you over, Sirius underneath you with you straddling his waist, allowing you to bounce of his cock. From this angle, he reaches deeper inside of you, his hard cock prodding at that sponging spot inside of you. The pure affection and love the two of you feel for each other was unmistakeable in this moment. The tenderness and intimacy of this act made your toes tingle and heart warm in your chest.

Continuing to bounce up and down on Sirius cock, you take a second to watch the boy below you, the only word seemingly fitting to describe him was angelic. His dark locks are sprawled out around the canvas, a mixture of red, blue and purple paint framing his body as well as splotches on his skin. His eyes are trained on yours, a look set in them that you’ve come to be familiar with, undying love.

You lower your head to connect your lips together, wanting-no needing to feel close, to feel connected.

“I love you,” you mumble breathlessly against Sirius’ pink lips. You feel that familiar euphoric sensation creeping up on you, Sirius’ cock hitting your g-spot every time you lower your body.

Sirius’ grips your waist tight and firmly, his own hips slamming up into you, “I love you too baby, so much.” He can feel your pussy clenching around him, he watches the way your breasts bounce between your bodies, he reaches his head forward to latch his mouth onto your nipple, sucking and licking on the sensitive bud. The noises slipping from your mouth makes his cock twitch.

“Sirius,” you pant threading your fingers through his dark hair to keep him close to your body.

Your body feels like it’s on fire and ready to combust, your legs trembling, and you know you won’t last much longer with the way Sirius is suckling at your nipple and he knows it.

“Want you to cum for me darlin, be my good girl and cum on my cock,” he groans into your breast, sucking and licking at your salty skin.

The coil in the pit of your belly snaps and with a load high pitched whine you’re releasing all over Sirius’ cock, your pussy clenching and legs shaking from the stimulation. After your release, it only takes Sirius a few more thrusts until he’s following suit, his load shooting and filling you up, a string of I love you’s tumbling from both of your mouths.

You collapse onto Sirius’ chest, neither of you make any effort to move even once your breathing has settled. Laying here with Sirius made you feel safe and protected. The way his index finger was trailing up and down your spine made you shiver, and you could feel him kissing your scalp gently. Undeniably, there was love radiating from his body, you could feel it and you only hope he could feel it radiating from yours too.

~~~

“Hey guys, that painting hanging up in the bedroom is new, yeah?” James questions, traipsing back into the living room where the rest of the group was.

You feel a heat rise in your cheeks when you realise which painting the bespectacled boy is referring too. Sirius nods pulling you tighter into his side.

“Did you paint that one Pads?” Remus asks. Most, if not all the artwork displayed in yours and Sirius’ home was created by him. It normally took a bit of persuading Sirius to let you hang up his work, he didn’t like to come across as cocky. But as soon as this canvas was dried and stretched onto a frame Sirius wasted no time in mounting it; above your shared bed, him claiming it ‘gets him in the mood whenever he looks at it’ (and he really wasn’t lying).

The boy beside you grins and plants a sloppy kiss against your cheek, “me and Y/N painted that one,” he says teasingly.

You shoot him a death glare warning him to keep his big mouth shut. “Don’t,” you mouth.

“That’s so cool! Didn’t know you were so artistic Y/N!” James exclaims excitedly, clearly impressed by the painting.

Sirius chuckles loudly pinching your side making you yelp, “oh she’s very talented when he comes to that type of stuff. I think we might need to make another piece together babe, what do you think?”

#JTR23 #Sirius Black #Sirius Black smut #Sirius Black x reader #Sirius Black x you #Sirius Black imagine #Sirius Black imagines #smut

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introloves · 3 years

Note

can i get uuuuuuuuhhhhh 👉🏻👈🏻 anal with hard dom sugawara? with like double penetration with a toy in puspus or some shit idk i'm ashamed for asking this 🥴🥴🥴🥴🥴

OF COURSE YOU CAN MY SWEET ANGEL! don’t be ashamed! there’s nothing to be embarrassed or ashamed of!!!! <3

— anal + double penetration + hard dom! sugawara + squirting + praise + f! reader

his lips feel good against your forehead- a gentle reminder that he still here with you, still paying attention to your every need. he knew this was intense, but you wanted it so bad and who was he to deny his baby of what she wanted?

“you okay baby girl?” he inquired, spurred on by the death grip of your fingers on his forearm. he sounded calm, collected, sweet even, but his eyes were hard- testing you to see if you would let go of him on your own.

the drop of your hand was first, then came your shaky apology, forcing the muscles in your thighs to relax.

the toy he prodded against your ass slid in once more. his eyes dropped down to your stretched hole- leaning down to nip your trembling thighs.

“oh- bet that feels so good.”

his voice sweetened, lulling you into a nice and false security- blowing against your dripping cunt. the action itself made your legs jump up, getting ready for something more... harsher, something more painful- but all that came was the shuffling of him sitting up, pushing the dildo in as far as it could go, hand slapping against the fat of your ass, skirting your body up the bed thanks to the force of it.

you screamed, clawing at the bed, tears falling down your cheeks in hot trails.

“aw, my sweet baby, its alright- i’ll make you feel good to make it up to you, would you like that?” koushi asked you, already tugging on his cock, knees shuffling forward, grabbing your thighs to slump against his hips.

you nodded, of course you did, his dick was so so pretty and red- dripping with precum, you wanted it real bad.

but that was quickly simmered down when he didn’t reach down and take the dildo still stuffed up firmly into your ass.

your hands came up to grip his biceps, a mistake, but one fueld by the curling of fear in your tummy.

“t-too much, too much.” you whimpered, voice soft and weak- but he smiled down at you, eyes crinkling into little slits in where you couldnt see his eyes anymore.

“hands off-“ he sung, “hands off, and put those cute little fingers in your mouth.”

you did as you were told, knowing ultimately that you could always say no- always give him that word that would have him stop all movements in seconds. but the excitement which followed the thrum of adrenaline coursing through you won you over.

the meat of your digits in your mouth muffled the scream when he sunk his cock inside you- he hissed above you, marveling in how tight you were with having your ass stuffed.

“fuck- fuck... dont think-“ he grunted, removing himself almost completely before shoving back in, “i’m going to fuck you anyway else from now on sweet girl.”

it made you dizzy, moans nearly nonexistent as you squirmed around him- the sharp and rolling pleasure coursing through you rendered you immobile and mute, you happily succumbed to it, letting the tingle override the movement of your limbs as your legs came up and off the bed- kicking out against his waist.

“oh look at you, you really love this dont you?” he purred, hands wrapping around your thighs to keep you still while his strokes increased in force, and loudness, accompanied by the wetness gushing out of you.

just like everything else, you let go and came in a hot wave of liquid, splashing agaisnt his tummy, the force of it sliding the dildo out of you, you couldnt see him anymore, couldnt see his eyes sparkled as your body bowed off the mattress, chest heaving up and off the bed when your body finally slumped back.

you squeezed his cock too- he could see and feel the tight fluttering of your cunt and he absolutely reveled in it.

the squirting wasnt new- he made sure that happened nearly every night- but the kicking and thumping of your hips agasint him was.

sugawara watched you finally come back down, watching the wet toy lay under his cock- the ring of your ass stretched and fluttering with the spasms.

he was so close to coming, but he made sure to come down and tug your hands from your suckling mouth- placing a wet kiss to your lips,

“good, you came so hard for me- can you do one more?” he purred, not really asking, letting you know that that’s what was going to happen and all you could do was lay there and stare up at him with big dumb eyes as he slid out of your creamy cunt and into your ass.

he was hooked on the thrashing, giggling when you started once more- calling out his name.

#sugawara #sugawara koushi #sugawara smut #haikyuu smut #haikyuu sugawara #sugawara x reader #sugawara x reader smut #sugawara x you #sugawara x y/n #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x reader smut #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #smut #requests #drabble #— no face. 🐉

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drakenology · 3 years

Text

“what that mouth do?” - w/ random haikyuu boys. because I dont know all the team names yet.

ft. bokuto, aakashi, kageyama & asahi

🎵 inspo song 🎵

warnings: oral sex (fem!receiving), cussin’, d+ddy kink, exhibitionism?, slight overstim, spit (yall know me), use of kitten in asahi’s sowwy, dash of somnophilia, a pinch of “cunt”

bokuto (mine)

i feel like bokuto would be the type to just get straight to it.

and believe you me he is a messy eater.

the whole room would be filled with sounds of him slurping and sucking all over your pussy

loves eating it from the back to prep you for the brutally beautiful backshots he’s about to bestow upon you.

also just loves your ass in his face.

fingers you and eats you out at the same time. (demon)

will tongue kiss you when he’s done to make you taste yourself.

talks about eating pussy to his teammates alll day. (much to their dismay)

he just loves eating pussy.

pussy eating experience: 10/10.

bokuto laid on the bed like a sniper with his sights on his target between your legs, hands resting on both thighs to keep you nice and spread for him. his tongue glides over your plush folds, poking and prodding at your entrance as his pretty eyes lock onto your face.

fuck, you were so beautiful like this; face scrunching up with every swipe of his tongue. you whimper as his fingers dive deep into your dripping sex, slurping noises ringing in your ears as he took your clit between his soft lips. you were blinded by pleasure, incoherent sentences flowing out of your lips of how good he was eating you right now.

bokuto nods, a cheeky “mhm.” sending you into a daze. your legs quiver and vibrate around poor bokuto’s head as you cum violently on his tongue. Even as your thighs are squeezing him to death he’s still licking you, riding you through your high and straight to yet another. Your back arched, your fingers entrapping into bokuto’s hair as you try and escape his killer grip on your hips. “fuuuck, baby!” you cry, sobbing at the assault on your oh-so-sensitive pussy. bokuto can’t get enough of seeing you this way; begging and crying for him to stop. part of him loves your desperate pleas, relishing in every little jumbled swear you let out.

aakashi (also mine)

another one who devours the pussy.

absolutely insatiable

will eat you anywhere... like anywhere

and will go all out on purpose so others could potentially hear you moan for him eek!

likes to 69 so your pretty mouth pleases him while he pleases you

high-key likes it when you get so tongue dumb that you can’t even focus on sucking his dick.

loves to praise you; could literally write an essay about how good your pussy tastes

he’s just a damn demon ok?

you’re out trying on cute little dresses for aakashi; short ones to tease him when you go out. you smirk as you watch his face flush, loving the way he looked at you with such hunger. your panties soak at the thought of what he was going to do to you when you got home; what he might do when he sees you all dressed up pretty and ready to go out with your friends.

as you go to change out of the dress you tried on to put your clothes back on, aakashi rushes into the dressing room and pushed you inside. he doesn’t say a word, his feral eyes speaking every filthy desire for him. he kissed you, so hard you both stumble into the wall. clothes molted off your bodies quickly, aakashi lightly pushing you down onto the bench following you down. in an instant you spread your legs for him, panties wearing a wet spot as aakashi moans at the sight.

his lips are on you before you can even speak, a long, sloww drag of his tongue over your panties turning your thoughts to mush. aakashi rests your legs onto his shoulders as he kneeled in front of you as if eating you was a privilege. slowly he peeled your panties off to the side, looking up at you with those fucking eyes of his. he leaves these sloppy kisses all over your sopping wet pussy that were so intoxicating that you completely forget you’re in public with all the noise you start to make.

your slick mixed with his spit dripped down your ass and all over the bench as aakashi traced circles on your clit, leaving only to dip his tongue inside to really taste you. your breathing seemed to stop as you hold back your whimpers, catching your lip between your teeth as he pushed you down to your end. “yess. you taste so good, love. give me more.”

Kageyama (psh.. buckle up)

closet freak

mr. tobio likes to tease a lot

loves when you beg for him

in fact it’s mandatory that you beg for him

will not stop until you cum at least twice and even then you’re pulling him off you

leaves little hickies on your thighs as a reminder of how good he makes you feel everytime he revists your pussy.

Kageyama comes home late at night; a celebration of another successful game still lingering on his breath (probably from drinking all night). He stumbles inside, eager to claim his prize. Tobio shuffled into the bedroom you share to see you sleeping soundly, stomach flat on the bed and your perfect ass sitting right up as if to greet him.

He practically drools seeing you like that all but fully clothed, the only thing covering your body was one of his jerseys. You looked good enough to eat. Kageyama crawls on top of your sleeping body, trying to nudge you awake all to no avail as you snore away completely unaware of the savage beast leaning over you. He starts kissing your body, whispering your name to stir you awake as he trailed down to your ass giving it the biggest kiss so far.

“wakey wakey...” he whispers, snapping the waistband of your panties with his thumb, taking two loving fingers to prod at your clothed cunt. you stir, moaning as he moved you to lay completely flat on the bed. “there she is..” he smiles, looking at your half sleeping face. “T-Tobii. What time is it?” You whine, reaching for your phone only for him to pull you to the edge of the bed. “Doesn’t matter. Bend over.” Tobio groaned, drinking in your body as he prompts you to lay down with your ass up. You bite your lip, doing as your told.

“You’re in a good mood. You guys won?” You ask, eyes closed as he kissed your thighs, licking just below your now aching pussy. He was so needy for you, words only slowing the process of him getting what he wants. He doesn’t even answer your question, only thing he used his mouth for was to devour the woman who lay bent over for him.

Kageyama pulled your panties down about half way, just to get to your cunt as quickly as humanly possible. He prods at your folds, taking in the taste of your sweet juices as he moaned into you. You shudder, leaning into the bed to muffle your noise.

His hands explored your lower half, focusing on grabbing your ass and caressing your thighs then refocusing his attention on sticking his tongue deep inside you; just drunk on your body. You’re quickly reduced to a moaning mess, the massaging of his big hands along with the intense make out session on your pussy was just doing it for you. Tobio lost all composure.

Your pussy was quite possibly the best thing that had ever happened to him or maybe that’s just how it felt. Not a single spot of you wasn’t touched, filthy sounds of him tonguing you down caused you to utter filither things back.

“Tobiii!” You sob into the pillow, almost completely sure you’re crying. You start shaking, arching your back to get him to go deeper somehow, telling him you’re soo fucking close. Keep going, don’t stop, you urge him. He obliged happily, suckling on your clit and sinking his slender fingers inside you in such a way that caused you to boil over as fast as you could dig your nails into the sheets. You feel your slick drip down your leg, Kageyama pulling away from your leaking pussy to lick up your thighs not wanting a drop to go to waste.

fuck.. i’m hot.. i’m hot.

Asahi

huge slut for foreplay, he just wants to make you feel good

eating you out is now second nature to him

it’s kinda scary how quickly he’s learned your body; what to do and what not to do

ways to get the faucet running smoothly, ya know?

loves when you pull his hair, it’s like a sign he’s got you going crazy for him.

probably the one to stop eating you to get his dick in there, soooo needy.

Something about seeing you in a skirt just makes Asahi want to tear you apart. So when he comes home to you getting dressed to go out with your girlfriends he froze. Not only did you wear a skirt but you also had the nerve to put on some thigh high socks with it. Wherever you were going didn’t matter anymore. All that mattered was getting his face in between those thigh highs.

Asahi takes you by the hand and pulled you away from the bathroom sink, kissing you with sheer lust and passion. Even though your friends were blowing up, call after call falling on deaf ears you didn’t fucking care. You kissing your boyfriend became the only thing that seemed right. Fuck going out to be honest. Asahi whisked you away to the bedroom, laying you carefully over the bed. He crawled on top of you with this starved look on his face, as if he’d never taste you again.

“A-Asahi, I’m gonna be late.” You say, being completely ignored by Asahi. Whatever it was you said though didn’t matter, his hands running up your thighs and lifting up your skirt. You’re flushed, looking down at him as he pulled your panties off in one fell swoop.

“This will be quick, promise. I just have to have you, kitten.” Asahi chokes out, eyeing your pussy. He was usually the calm one; the one who brought you to beg for him but now he’s practically aching to taste you. And so he does, diving deep into your pussy with his tongue. Any rationality left your thinking, the sensation the only thing making sense to you right now.

Asahi now has your thighs pressed into your chest, spread just enough to lick your sweet cunt. Your knees cover half your face as you practically drool on them, his mouth working it’s magic all over your most sensitive spots. He takes his thick fingers and slides them inside with easy feat (its the wap for him.), causing your thighs to quiver. Your eyes roll back as you try holding your legs open for him, thighs quivering as Asahi makes it harder to do so.

“fuuuck, asahii!” you mewl, eyes crossing at every stroke of his tongue; every pump of his fingers. Asahi swore and pulled away, sloppily kissing you with his wet lips.

“I lied. I won’t be quick.”

#haikyuu smut #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu asahi #haikyuu akaashi #haikyuu bokuto #haikyuu kageyama

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mysecretlittlelibrary · 3 years

Text

A Queen's Throne

Pairing: Thor x Reader

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: face sitting- weight related insecurities (briefly), Thor

Genre: smut with a dash of fluff because Thor's a sweetie

Summary: Thor really wants you to sit on his face- despite your own reservations he's determined to make it happen

***

"Y/n!" Your boyfriend yells as he enters the room.

"Yes Thor?" You glance up from your book to look at him.

"Hello my lady!" He smiles at you.

"Hello my love." You smile back. Sometimes you feel like you're dating a puppy dog, but you wouldn't trade him for anything.

"I have a request." Thor announces.

"And what might that request be my darling Thor?" You ask.

"I want to try something new, well new for you- maybe." He says.

"New for me?" You chuckle.

"Well yes, I'm a God pretty much anything you can think of wanting to try I've probably done it at least once." Thor shrugs.

"Right- so what's this thing you wanna try?" You ask him.

"It's related to cunnilingus." He tells you, sitting on the bed.

"That's- not, Thor you do that every time we have sex that's not new nor is it really a request."

"Yes I know but I'd like to try it with you on top." He says. Your face furrows in confusion for a moment before realization dawns on you.

"Oh! No. Absolutely not. We aren't doing that Thor." You shake your head profusely.

"I don't understand. Why not?" Thor frowns.

"Why not!? Thor, I would suffocate you." You scoff.

"Suffocate me? Oh for Odin's sake- I'm a God y/n. You can't kill me. And if you could, well death between your thighs isn't the worst way to go." He shrugs.

"Thor!" You laugh. Thor climbs on top of you, holding himself up by his arms.

"That wasn't a joke, but anyway, I'd like to try it." He says.

"Thor I am way too big for this kind of shit." You scoff. Thor peppers your throat with kisses as he dismisses your protests.

"Oh please, I've fucked you against walls, in the shower, on countertops- if your weight were to ever be a problem this would certainly not be high on the list of difficult acts. Besides, I love the way you look. You know that." He smiles at you.

"You're not going to drop this, are you?" You sigh.

"You know I won't." He says.

"Fine. If this is something you really want- we can try it." You say. Thor leans back and claps.

"Perfect! Strip and get up here." He rolls over onto his back.

"Oh we're doing this now?" You ask.

"Yes. Don't make me tell you again." He tells you. You huff out a laugh almost in disbelief but still, you stand up and discard your hoodie and panties. You climb onto the bed and over him, hovering above his chest.

"Are you sure about this Thor?" You ask once more.

"Y/n, whatever your concerns are I promise you nothing bad will happen. You trust me, don't you darling?"

"Of course I do. More than anything."

"Then trust that you have nothing to worry about." Thor says. With one last calming breath, you shuffle forward until you're hovering over his mouth. His arms quickly loop around your thighs and force you down onto his face. His tongue immediately slides between your folds and you can't help but jerk at the feeling. He holds you against him as he laves your clit with attention, pressing harshly against the bundle of nerves with vigorous circles and sharp flicks, moaning at the taste of you.

"S-shit Thor." You lean forward to brace yourself using the headboard, feeling your orgasm build rapidly. Thor can tell too, his lips wrap around your clit and he sucks harshly on it. You can't help the scream that comes out as your hips thrash against him. Thor doesn't let up even your orgasm crashes into you with a moan of his name. His tongue continues to lap at your sensitive clit relentlessly as your body struggles to choose between grinding further into him and moving away from the sharp pleasure that has you hurtling towards another orgasm quickly.

"T-Thor- p-please." You whimper, your hands threading through his hair as he holds you in place. You're not even sure what you're begging for when you tug at the blonde locks between your fingers. The action causes him to let out a growl that vibrates against your core, sending you into another orgasm.

Still, Thor doesn't ease up on you, determined to make you cum again on his tongue. "Thor- w-wait- 's too much. Fuck I-" your words are slurred and broken up by sobs as he continues to lap to your juices eagerly.

"Come on darling, cum again for me." He says against you, his talking offers a fleeting moment of reprieve before he's lapping at you again.

"Ca-c- can't."

"You can and you will." He says looking up at you fiercely. Thor increases the pressure against your clit, forcing you over the edge for the third time, your body tensing up before relaxing completely as Thor coaxes you through it, his tongue now lazily rubbing against your swollen bundle of nerves. Finally, when the aftershocks wear off, Thor unlocks his arms and you shuffle down far enough to kiss him breathlessly. You can taste yourself on his lips and you can't help but moan at the mix.

"Fuck Thor, what're you trying to do drain my life force through my vagina?" You joke, struggling to get the words out as you try to catch your breath.

"Of course not. But I do love watching you orgasm. it's addicting, like a drug." Thor says as you kiss down his jaw.

"A drug huh." You hum.

"Yes, that aside, you looked good looked sitting on my face you know. Like a queen on her throne." Thor observes.

"Only you would make such a comparison." You laugh against his chest.

"Maybe- but it's true. I could stare at you like that all day. I think we should do it that way from now on." He says.

"I don't know about from now on, but we can do it more often if you'd really like." You say.

"I would really like." He says.

"Fine, but in the meantime- I would really like to return the favor." You say kissing down his abdomen.

"By all means darling. Yours for the taking." Thor winks at you as you tug his shorts down his legs mouth watering at the sight of him. Thor has always been more interested in giving than receiving but he'd be a fool to turn down a blowjob from you. After all, you do it so well, and you enjoy it - and who is he to stop you from doing something you enjoy.

***

#marvel #thor #thor fanfiction #thor x reader #thor odinson #marvel fanfiction #thor fluff #thor smut

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randomrosewrites · 3 years

Note

Hi! Can i request chaeya comforting readerfor a stressed day 😣❤ thanks!

a/n: I didn't know if you wanted a poly relationship, so I kept it open to interpretation. I also had a bad day recently, and wrote this to help deal with that.

A rough day

Pairing: Childe X GN reader X Kaeya Summary: Being involved with Childe and Kaeya come with their own stresses, but the two are always there to help you when your days don't happen to be the best. Words: ~1K Tags: Fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, no childe you can't kill people because your s/o is upset.

Being involved with a sly Captain and a Fatui Harbinger comes with it’s own stresses on top of your own. Though through communication, time, and patience, the three of you have found a nice balance in your lives.

Depending on who’s free on those bad days, the way they comfort you is different.

Kaeya’s the type to distract you, taking your mind off the stress by making you laugh. Whether it’s at the expense of himself or Childe, he’ll do anything. Though if it’s clear you’re not in the mood, listening to your grievances over alcohol works too.

Childe’s the one to coddle you. Food, gifts, cuddles, as well as promises to kill whoever was causing you problems, he’s not leaving your side until he knows you’re ok.

Childe jumps as the door slams open, startling him so much that his soup sloshes over the edge of the bowl and onto his lap. He curses, setting the bowl down on the table and wiping the scorching liquid away using a cloak strewn over the couch.

There’s shuffling and clattering from the entrance hall before you trudge into the room, shoulders slouched and a grimace on your face. You stop mid-step when you see him.

“Rough day?” he asks with a teasing smile. When you don’t respond with a sarcastic laugh or a half-hearted glare, he drops it. Something must have really gone wrong if you can’t even respond to his quips.

“Yes,” you croak. Childe’s heart aches at how defeated you sound. “Sorry I slammed the door…”

He wipes the back of his hand on the cloak (It’s Kaeya’s, he realizes. Oops.) and stands up. “It’s alright. I made some soup earlier. Would you like some?”

You nod. He takes your hand and leads you to the kitchen. You sit by the counter as Childe ladles soup into a bowl. The delicious aroma of crab and vegetables flows through the air. Kaeya hates the stuff, and always dramatically gags whenever he catches Childe in the kitchen making it. Good thing he isn’t home now to complain.

You mumble a thanks when Childe sets the bowl down in front of you, keeping your eyes down as you spoon the dish little by little into your mouth. Childe grabs his bowl from the couch and settles in a chair across from you. The two of you eat your soup in relative silence.

After a few minutes of silent eating, Childe ventures, “Do you wanna talk about it?”

To his horror, a few tears slip from your eyes and into your soup. “Life is hard, Childe.”

He gets up from his seat and opens his arms, knowing better than to force himself onto you to make things worse. You throw yourself into his embrace, quietly hiccuping against his collar. Childe rests his chin on your head as his hand strokes the plane of your back, whispering soft reassurances.

“Ugh. Work was so boring today. I swear, why do-” A sudden voice from the doorway makes the two of you jump. Kaeya stops in the middle of the doorway, seeing the scene play out before him. (He always had that bad habit of returning home without making a sound. He’s scared you and Childe half to death more than his fair share of times.) Childe gives Kaeya a look, hoping the man would know how to read the situation.

“Hey, hey,” Kaeya coos, dropping his bags on the ground to rub your shoulders. “What’s wrong, babe?”

“Bad day.” Childe says solemnly. A choked cry escapes from your throat, muffled by his shirt.

Kaeya shushes you softly, pressing against your back and wrapping his arms around your waist. Oh, there, there. It’s alright now.”

They let you stay there for as long as you want. Despite their cooler visions, they’re both very warm. When you finally pull away from Childe’s chest and look him in the eyes, he smiles warmly, brushing wet tears and hair from your face.

“How about you have a rest in the bedroom, hm? I’ll clean up here.”

You nod. Kaeya unravels himself from your back, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “Come on, I’ll take you there. It reeks of seafood...”

You laugh a little. Childe rolls his eyes as you two leave the kitchen. Kaeya’s arms remain firmly in place all the way to the bedroom. He sits you on the bed, quickly srtripping his boots and sharp bits of his uniform off before helping you change into fresh, comfortable clothes.

“Stay please,” you whisper, tugging on his sleeve.

He kisses your forehead, heart swelling when your eyes flutter. “Of course, sweetheart.”

Kaeya pulls back the covers and slides in, letting you curl up against him. He rubs his fingers at the nape of your neck, massaging the tense muscle there until your eyes flutter close.

A few minutes later, the bedroom door opens and Childe enters with a glass of water.

“Drink,” He offers gently, holding it to your lips for you to sip. He sets it on the dresser once you’re done, slipping into his spot on the bed. His arm weaves its way across your chest. arm weaving its way across your chest.

“Feeling ok?” he asks, settling his head against your shoulder.

You hesitate, gripping Kaeya’s shirt. “I’m alright.”

Childe kisses your cheek. “Good. We’re here if you ever wanna talk about it. Get some rest.”

Nested between the two people you love very much, you find comfort. With Kaeya’s soft hair ticking your nose and Childe’s warm breath on the back of your neck, you feel at ease, free from your worries and stresses that wait for you outside in the world.

#my writing #genshin impact #kaeya #childe #genshin headcanons #genshin impact headcanons #kaeya x reader #kaeya imagines #kaeya x y/n #kaeya x you #kaeya x childe #childe x gender neutral reader #childe x reader #tartaglia #ajax x reader #genshin impact x reader #tartaglia x reader #childe x y/n #childe x you

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lepusrufus · 3 years

Text

A cold day and a death wish

Aka, that time Esteria saved Daniela's ass, earning Alcina's respect. Warning for gore!

---

January 20th 1983

Romanian winters sure were frigid in the mountains, so unlike the seaside climate she had grown accustomed to during her lifetime. A lifetime of being stuck in an unwanted family who fiercely shoved their ideas down her throat from the moment she had opened her wide blue eyes into the world.

Esteria shook her head to chase away the past's blurry memories and wrapped the blanket she had taken from her bed more tightly around her shoulders. Of course, the new state her body found itself in did not aid with keeping her warm, blood circulation all but becoming progressively useless since her infection, leaving her extremities perpetually cold. You win some you lose some, she thought with a chuckle.

It was the middle of the day, not that it mattered given the gloomy skies above. Esteria preferred to keep any activities she did in the afternoons, when Lady Dimitrescu was sure to be asleep in her chambers. It was best for the both of them really, as the woman was obviously displeased with what she saw as an invasion of her home in Esteria's presence at the castle. And in all fairness, she wasn't completely in the wrong. Mother Miranda had taken a particular interest in observing the development of her infection and, when she had to go away for a few months, she had apparently shoved that task onto the Lady's shoulders. And that, of course, included Esteria staying at the castle for the time being.

The three daughters would occasionally get up and roam around at any and all hours, doing god knows what, but Lady Dimitrescu was always a woman that stuck to her routine. And besides, the daughters could be quite pleasant company at times, happy to make conversation over a cup of tea, or blood nowadays, or showing her whatever project they were working on at the moment. Sometimes it was a painting while other times it was a new torture device. At least they kept things interesting, right?

The cold marble of the main hall's floor came in contact with skin and she mentally cursed herself for not putting on any shoes, or even socks, before leaving her bedroom. This place was so damn big and had her occasionally stopping to check her surroundings and make sure she had taken the right path, even after over a month of being there, and that only prolonged her walk in the uncomfortable temperature. She just wanted a cup of water and to return to her warm bed.

She was shuffling her way past the stairwell and towards the kitchen when the deafening blast of a gun, echoing ominously through ancient hallways, made her freeze in place. It was close, much too close for comfort.

Her head turned slowly, in an effort to locate the source of the sound but a second shot made her jump in place, eyes snapping to the hall leading to the entrance. Surely no staff member was instructed to shoot something inside the castle, and the daughters seemed to prefer more archaic weapons, so to speak.

Blanket promptly forgotten and left to limply slide off her shoulders and onto the floor, quick steps were taken towards what she hoped was nothing but a misstep. Quick and deliberate, moving close to the wall and keeping to the shadows, hiding as much as possible given her rather tall frame and stark white hair. She passed by grand paintings hanging against the beautifully patterned wallpaper and maneuvered around antique vases, all with precise footsteps, like a predator stalking its prey.

Up until a third shot, this time accompanied by an enraged scream, broke the silence.

"Filthy man-thing!"

Daniela's voice reached her with an unusual high pitch to it, although the growl that came after was no less fierce. There was an odd strain to it too, something that Esteria realized must be caused by pain.

No.

She hastily reached the entrance hall, cool air from the door left wide open hitting her in the face like the world's coldest slap across her features. It made her lips twist into a snarl at the sensation.

Snarl that turned into a growl when her eyes fell upon the scene unfolding there.

Daniela, the ever so sweet youngest daughter, slumped against one of the marble pillars surrounding the portrait of her and her sisters and trying to stop her knees from buckling and giving way to what could only be immense pain. Her sickle was held tightly in one hand, knuckles turning white from the effort, while her eyes sparked like angry mismatched embers towards the man in front of her. A man, who she did not recognize, with a shotgun pointed directly at her, face contorted with anger.

Upon noticing Esteria, he took a handful of stumbling steps back, the barrel now moving between the two women frantically.

"Stay back!" She did. Esteria did not have Alcina's healing abilities and was not particularly keen on getting a bullet to the face. For now. "You wretched witches! Y- You took my wife from me. She came here for work and never came back!"

Daniela groaned for a moment, apparently gathering her strength to reply. "Maybe she doesn't want to go back." Her voice, despite coming out raspy, was sickly sweet, the same tone she used so many times before when toying with her prey, but now the dripping malice behind her words was on full display.

The hunter stomped forward, aiming for another shot, and that's when Esteria's body finally reacted, jumping forward.

Transformations were never painful, no, it felt more like a really good stretch. A stretch of bone and skin down to the very cells, that made her body tingle for a meager moment until a gangly beast with wide eyes like the deepest caverns full of water and silt took her place. The one thing that required some getting used to however, was the mild disorienting sensation that came with her normal vision being completely replaced by black and white and all the grayscale in between, forming fuzzy silhouettes that were brighter or dimmer according to heat signatures.

Long talons screeched against the smooth floor when she pounced, crashing into his body within the blink of an eye.

The shot was fired, however not at its intended target but ending up embedded somewhere in a wall behind them. It broke something priceless for sure, but no matter. There was something more important to deal with at the moment.

The man thrashed under the weight of her claws, his hands trying in vain to push or cause any form of damage. His voice mixed terror and rage in screams that all but scratched against her eardrums.

And he was an intruder.

Not in her home, no, this was not her home to begin with. But if nothing else, she respected Lady Dimitrescu deeply and her daughters had grown on her more than she would like to admit. Hurting Daniela certainly warranted punishment. And punishment she delivered.

Her mouth opened in a fraction of a second, elongated jaws forming an unnaturally wide angle and sharp fangs glistening in the low light. Without another moment of hesitation, she dipped her head, maw clamped shut around his face and those same fangs digging their way through scalp and skin and bone and everything that lay beneath. Sickening cracks, that were more felt than heard with the irking scraping of bone against bone, were accompanied by pained screeches. Esteria shook her head slightly, the movements dislodging some fragments from her mouth and tongue, and then she jerked her head back. Still shut jaws took with them a good portion of the cranium, that was promptly spat out and sent rolling on the marble floor smearing it in crimson, finally putting a stop to any sound or movement from the man.

There was no time to dwell around the corpse however, as a small whimper made its way to her ears. In a moment she was back to her normal self, although her robes were hanging rather loosely and were now soaked in blood on the front, and taking long steps towards the source of the noise.

She kneeled in front of Daniela, who was now also on the floor. "Hey. Hey darling, I'm here, what's wrong?"

One hand came to gently caress a pallid cheek, making sure to use the back of her hand to avoid her talons causing any further pain. She almost recoiled at how frigid the skin was. Frigid and cracking, feeling almost crystalline under her fingers.

Surprisingly enough, Daniela clung to her, shaky hands grabbing fistfuls of her robes and slumping forward with a couple choked sobs.

"P- please. Take me-... take me out of h- here."

Esteria did just that, scooping the girl into her arms and quickly walking down the same hallway she had come from. A few servants were starting to gather around, wide eyed, having heard the commotion and coming to check on what was going on.

"Shut that damned door," Esteria all but barked while stepping around them, although everyone quickly jumped out of her way.

She did not wait for an answer, as she started to make her way up the stairs, when her eyes landed on none other than Alcina Dimitrescu, coming down and freezing for a moment upon noticing the shaking form of her youngest daughter in her arms. The Lady's face contorted with anger, but before any accusations could be made, Esteria spoke up, voice coming in a rushed breath.

"A hunter came in. Please just-... where should I put her?"

Alcina did not answer her however, opting to bend down and take her daughter into her own arms, features immediately softening upon hearing a small whimper from Daniela caused by being shifted around. She cooed at the girl for a moment, whispering words of reassurance that were far too quiet for anyone else to hear.

She turned around, heading back up without another word, and any sensible person would take it as their cue to get lost and mind their own business. But growing up in the woods like some Peter Pan wannabe didn't make sensible people now did it. Esteria followed along, quick steps barely keeping up with the Lady's long determined strides. She followed until they reached a bedroom unfamiliar to her, though by the furniture and decorations, she could assume it was the youngest's chambers. She stepped inside and watched as she placed her daughter on a small couch placed right in front of the fireplace, soft furs covering the patterned cushions.

Not wanting to simply sit by, she helped by gathering a few extra blankets, gears finally turning in her brain, and handing them to Alcina, who by now was gently stroking red locks as Daniela all but glued herself to her mother's lap. Golden eyes snapped at her but the blankets were accepted, unfolded and quickly wrapped around the shivering girl.

Esteria couldn't help placing a hand on Daniela's shoulder and giving it a gentle reassuring squeeze, although she was unsure whether or not it was felt through the multiple layers.

She didn't look at the other woman when she spoke, eyes fixated on her hand, seemingly finding her talons of interest at the moment. "Are they… weak to the cold?"

It was barely a whisper and the reply took so long to arrive that Esteria started to think she had only imagined asking in the first place.

"Were it not for the fact that you're Mother Miranda's pet project, I would kill you for knowing that." Alcina's tone was flat, but the conviction it carried left no room for interpretation on the truthfulness of her words.

Esteria chuckled. That sure was a way to thank someone for saving her daughter.

She decided to take that as her cue to leave, raising slowly and making her way to the door left ajar. A mental note to change her robes and take a bath before returning to bed was also made, the sticky sensation on her skin quite unpleasant. Before she could get a hold on the door handle and exit the room however, the Lady's voice called out for her, uncharacteristic tenderness making its way where sharp pointy edges were mere moments ago.

"Thank you. I'm glad you were there to intervene before any real damage was done."

Esteria managed to hold back a grimace and a snort, remembering that some damage had definitely been done, although most likely to an antique decoration or painting hit by a stray bullet. Keeping her expression under control, she half turned her head, fond smile adorning her lips.

"Of course my Lady."

"Just call me Alcina."

#lady dimitrescu x maiden #momma esteria #daniela dimitrescu #fanfic #oneshot

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littlemisspascal · 3 years

Text

Death and an Angel part 5

Helmetless + Death!Din and Cupid F!Reader

Summary: A call with one of your bosses threatens to split you and Din apart.

Rating: T

Word Count: 2,075

Warnings: Reader experiences a panic attack, use of a swear word, angst, reference to most recent Mandalorian episode so I guess it’s kind of spoiler-ish, hurt/comfort and more angst

Author Note: All the love to everyone who follows along with this series! I joined AO3 recently so all these parts will be on there as well at LittleMissPascal. I’m actually really nervous about the response to this particular segment so...be gentle, please ❤

Links to Part 1 and Part 4 and Part 6

Photo Inspiration:

“Cupid 1-1-7, am I hearing you correctly? You said there was an explosion?”

You scrub a hand over your face, biting back a sigh lest the comlink picks it up. “Not a literal one, sir. I’m still not sure what happened, just that when my client touched a potential match’s hand there was this...invisible blast of energy or something.”

The silence on the other end is enough to make you want to slam your head against the wall of the Razor Crest. You’d called headquarters as soon as you and Din had returned to his ship, figuring if anyone had a clue as to what the hell had happened it’d be one of your superiors.

After twenty minutes of explaining your predicament not once, but three times, you’re beginning to realize you were evidently mistaken.

“Remind me again, Cupid 1-1-7, what name was it you referred to this immortal client of yours as?” Over the comlink, your boss’ voice sounds as if he’s gargling jagged rocks, deep and throaty. You can imagine the narrowed-eyed look he’d be giving you in person and you’re grateful you’re not currently having this conversation over a holoprojector.

“I didn’t.”

Your eyes drift to the ladder leading up to the cockpit where Din is located. Something inside of you is insistent you keep Din’s identity hidden from your superiors. It’s a feeling you’ve never experienced before, certainly not with any of your former clients. Part of you thinks of the sensation as possessiveness, but what have you to be possessive of? You have no claim to him, nothing tying you to one another.

“Interesting,” your boss says, dry as the Dune Sea.

“My client is high-profile, sir. He asked me to remain discreet and I intend to uphold his request.” You clutch the comlink against your chest, taking deep breaths to keep yourself calm as you wait to hear if he believed your lie or not.

“This...incident you’ve described, it does bring to mind an event in history with similar details.” There is a shuffling sound that echoes over the device, resembling papers being picked up and flipped through. He hums, a long drawn out note that makes your skin crawl. “Yep, here’s the report right here, referencing an outburst erupting as a result of the physical contact between a potential pair.”

You wait for more information, drumming your fingers against a nearby crate.

“Unfortunately, you are not of rank to hear the specifics.”

“But—”

“I must say though, the Moff will be most interested in this development,” he continues, ignoring your protest as if you hadn’t opened your mouth at all.

Heart lodging in your throat at the mention of the head seraph, you manage to choke out, “I really don’t think that’s necessary, Mr. Hess.”

“That’s sir to you, Cupid 1-1-7.”

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. Forgive me, sir.” You’re two seconds from babbling yourself off a cliff and you can’t find the off switch for your mouth. “It’s just. Moff Gideon is so busy, as I’m sure you know, and I would hate to bother him with this case when I have everything under control—”

“Except that you clearly don’t. Otherwise you wouldn’t have made this call.”

His words hit you like a punch, silencing you.

“The Moff will hear about this, as well as your breaking protocol by concealing information from your superior when directly asked. No doubt he will be as displeased about your behavior as I am.”

Your eyes fall shut as you listen, slumping against the ship’s wall and sliding down onto the cold floor. You feel disconnected from the situation, as if he’s discussing someone else’s fate instead of your own.

“In the meantime,” his voice drones on, adding more weight to the pressure on your chest. “I will permit you forty-eight hours to complete your assignment before I officially relegate it to another Cupid. You will also be ordered to take a reassessment test of your basic understanding of standard Cupid regulations.”

You squeeze your eyes together tighter, feeling like you’re about to throw up. Each breath you take feels pointless, as if there is no longer any oxygen in the air, but you have enough pride left to keep you from having a breakdown with your boss still on the line.

“Do you understand the terms in which I’ve stated to you, Cupid 1-1-7?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Amor vincit omnia.” The parting mantra sounds almost sinister coming from his mouth.

“Amor vincit omnia,” you echo, forcing your voice to remain steady.

The comlink clicks off. The floodgates open not a second later.

You press your palms against your mouth, desperately trying to hold back the sobs that wrack your body so they don’t disrupt the silence of the cargo hold. The tears streaming down your face refuse to be stifled though, burning your eyes as they fall. Your head pounds in rhythm with your heartbeat, a frantic drumming counting down the seconds until you either scream or pass out. Or both.

It’s an ugly, hysterical kind of crying that can’t be stopped once started, not even when you hear movement from the ladder right before Din slides down it, boots thudding loudly against the floor.

And then it seems like Din is right there in front of you without ever having moved, unnaturally fast and stealthy, gloved fingers resting on your shoulders. He’s taken off his helmet, brown eyes full of such concern it only makes you cry harder seeing them, further increasing his worry.

“Are you hurt? Tell me what’s wrong, angel,” he murmurs, a note of franticness in his voice as he looks you over for injuries, finding none except for the few scratches along your arms you’d received earlier when you landed in the dirt.

You shake your head when he tries to move your hands away from your face, emitting a choked hiccup that threatens to crack your already-bruised rib cage with its intensity.

“Angel, you’ve got to breathe, okay?” Din says, soft and soothing. You blink through your watery vision, finding his gaze again, and he offers you a small, reassuring smile. “In and out. Just like this.” He inhales a purposefully deep breath, then slowly releases it without once breaking eye contact.

You try to copy him, but your nose is stuffed with snot and your lungs hitch with another round of sobs, ruining your attempt.

“Can I…?” Din again reaches for one of your hands, this time hovering without attempting direct contact, waiting for your consent.

Trembling, it feels like a monumental task to remove your hand from where it’s glued to the top of your other one still covering your mouth. Din grabs onto your wrist and brings your hand to his chest plate, pressing it against the cool beskar.

“Together, okay? In and out.”

He continues his litany of encouragement, patient and calm, and gradually your heaving sobs begin to lose their power, enabling you to reclaim control of your lungs. Catching your breath, you begin to wipe away the lingering tears with the hand not still held gently in Din’s grip.

“Sorry,” you sniff, embarrassed. The beginning ache of a migraine starts to form in the back of your head, worsening when you try to move too quickly, and you bite back a wince.

His grip on your wrist tightens in admonishment. “There’s no need to be,” he says, but your ears detect his thinly restrained anger. “Who were you speaking to?”

“He’s one of my superiors. Valin Hess,” you answer, biting your lip.

“I should have him wiped clean from the galaxy for making you cry,” Din hisses, a snarl on his face and eyes darkening with rage.

Face to face with anyone else, you would have felt terrified being so close to such open hostility. But this is how Din expresses his overprotective nature, making himself a more dangerous threat than the enemy, and for that reason, you could never be scared of him.

“Din, listen to me,” you say, curling your hand in his grasp until he yields to your movements and allows you to intertwine your fingers with his gloved ones. “What happened on Sorgan when you touched Omera’s hand, Hess said it wasn’t the first time something like that has happened. He wouldn’t give me the details though because I’m not high enough rank.”

He raises an eyebrow. “I wasn’t aware Cupids had any kind of ranking system.”

“It’s based on how long you’ve existed. I’ve only been a Cupid for fifty years now, barely made any kind of lasting imprint on the galaxy.”

“Don’t say that,” he mutters, shooting you a stern look. “You’ve made a bigger impact than you could ever know.”

Struck momentarily speechless, you can only watch as he moves to sit on the floor beside you, clasped hands settling between his thigh and yours. The pauldron on his shoulder presses against the upper half of your arm and you tilt your head until your temple rests against it.

“That’s not what made you upset,” Din says.

You don’t need to shake your head, confirming the truth he already knows, but you do anyway, comforted by the cold metal rubbing across your forehead.

“What did he tell you, angel?”

You know by how he squeezes your hand that he genuinely wants to hear what happened. You know he must hear it from you because no one else can break the news. And you know you cannot lie to him because Hess’ intervening affects him even more than it does yourself. Still, in spite of knowing all of this, the words don’t come out any easier.

“I have only two days to figure out who your soulmate is before he reassigns you another Cupid.”

Din goes abruptly stiff. “What.”

“Because of the explosion and then also because I broke protocol by refusing to say you were my client, Hess believes I’m not handling things well and should be replaced by someone better.”

If you hadn’t known Din was immortal, you would think he died with how still he remains at your side. Leaning back with increasing worry, you see him staring forward across the cargo hold, granting you only a glimpse of the side of his face.

He...Oh, Maker.

He looks kriffing pissed.

“Din—”

“How...” he cuts himself off, nostrils flaring as he clenches his jaw. “How could they ever think there is anyone better than you?”

For the job, you tell yourself, not allowing your hopes to rise. He means there isn’t anyone better for the job.

“I’m just a Cupid,” you tell him weakly, shrugging a shoulder. “I—”

“Stop talking poorly about yourself,” he snaps, the closest he’s ever come to yelling at you, turning to meet your gaze with fire burning in his eyes. You swallow thickly, his intensity making you feel like cornered prey.

When he speaks again, his baritone voice has become a low murmur, each word carefully chosen and bleeding sincerity. “Everything you said about knowing who your soulmate is—I want to experience all of it with you. Only you. You’re it for me, angel.”

You freeze, unable to believe what you’re hearing, train of thought coming to a screeching halt. For the second time during this conversation, you’ve lost your voice, mouth opening and closing but no sound coming out.

“You’re it for me,” he repeats, sounding as if he’s pleading for you to believe him. “So tell your bosses to go fuck themselves. You’re the only Cupid I could ever want by my side.”

The reference of your designation is like dumping a bucket of ice water over your head, shocking your entire system. You wrench yourself away from him, stumbling onto your feet.

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” you say as you start to pace around the room, hearing the hysterical edge in your own voice.

He stands up, expression warring between confusion and irritation. “I know you feel something too. Why do you keep pulling away from me?”

“Because we can’t be together, Din,” you answer, blinking back the unbidden tears starting to form again. “I’m not your soulmate. It isn’t possible!”

“Angel.” He catches your elbow when you pass by him, forcing you to face him. His voice is brittle when he speaks, already expecting your answer to shatter his wounded heart. “Why can’t you be with me?”

“Because I’ve already met my soulmate. And he wasn’t you.”

Tag List: @leilei-draws, @theocatkov, @becauseican2, @vintagesaph, @stardust-and-starlight, @kay2304, @odelia-d32, @adrieunor, @remmyswritings, @gallowsjoker, @rhiannon-russo, @randomness501, @eleine-t1d, @nicotinebirds, @sylphene, @softly-sad, @maytheglitter, @melobee, @rogertaylorsfalsettogivesmehives, @eleinemk

#din x you #din x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #Din Djarin #the mandalorian #my writing #death and an angel #my fic #soulmate au #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal character fanfiction #the mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x reader

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nincompoopydoo · 3 years

Text

PAIRING, BAGELS, REPEAT

— I’VE SEEN FIRE, I’VE SEEN RAIN ; PART 2 / ?

PAIRING: Bruce Wayne x reader

WORD COUNT: 1909

SUMMARY: Being laid off isn’t very fun but Bruce tends to find himself even more entangled in your life, including his alter ego—Batman.

A/N: I’m loving this series and if you are, feedback is appreciated. Thank you for reading my crappy stuff aka my daydreams <3

WARNINGS: Guns! Death threats! Crying! A mental breakdown!

MASTERLIST ; MASTERPOST

James Taylor’s Fire and Rain plays like a funeral hymn on the record player, echoing through your studio apartment. You’re sitting on the ground, back against the ratty couch with a pizza box on your lap. You take a bite of a BBQ Chicken pizza slice, furiously wiping your tears away as you replayed the events from six hours ago. From being called to the principal's office to only be told that you’re one of the non-tenured teachers to be laid off due to cutbacks. Gotham High was...a tough school. The students were mean to you because well, you're young and always gave them the benefit of the doubt. Plus, you taught English Literature and frankly, your students didn’t exactly enjoy the subject as much as you wanted them to. Nevertheless, you’re devastated. Teaching was a dream of yours, and it’s being taken away from you. You cried all the way back home, tried to call your mother but it kept going to voicemail. You must have called someone else, but you don’t remember and couldn’t care less to check your phone—the whole day went by like a blur.

Then, there’s a sound. An insistent buzz, it’s the doorbell. You furrow your brows, not recalling ordering anything else other than the large pizza from Domino’s. Yet, it doesn’t cease, and you’re forced to bring yourself to stand on your feet, instinctively flattening your tousled hair to make yourself seem somewhat presentable. Like, you’re doing fine and you have everything completely under control. Maybe, you did call your mother, and she’s at the door. You’re hoping she is although she’s going to kill you for the mess.

Another buzz and you’re toddling across the wooden flooring and towards the doorway. It’s starting to become infuriating by the second, like a house fly don’t won’t stop bugging you. Considering the mood you’re in, it doesn’t take much to tick you off. Swinging the door open, you expected to see the radiant face of your mother but to your surprise, it’s not.

It’s Bruce.

Shit.

You haven’t seen him in two weeks.

You nearly choke at the sight of him in a slightly crumpled oxford blue dress shirt, sleeves rolled up, hair as much of a mess as yours and tired eyes staring down at you with concern. You note how Bruce is very charming, no matter how disarrayed he is. Meanwhile, you’re realizing the current state must be a little startling. Your eyes are probably bloodshot, hair still in a tangled mess and glaring tomato stains everywhere on your GCU t-shirt. This is such a low point for you.

“Bruce,” you say, voice raising an octave with wide eyes as you stare at him like he’s grown another head, “What are you doing here?” His frown is immediate, seemingly confused by your question. “You called me.” He gestures to his phone within his grasp. “It sounded bad even though I couldn’t make out what you were saying half of the time,” He chuckles and holds up a familiar looking paper bag “So, I got you bagels. Three of them. Thought you could use some of these.”

It takes a second or two for you to finally process what he just told you before your emotionally wrecked brain decides to do the most irrational thing ever—You just start sobbing. You’re crying so hard that it terrifies Bruce. He blinks, thoughts racing. The sight of you in complete misery strikes him like a punch to his gut and for the first time, he doesn’t know what to do. Not immediately. Yet, through glassy eyes, you manage to notice the way his face dropped and morphed into pure horror. Justification is key, you don’t want to weird him out and think you’re crazy. You wave your hand in the air dismissively, rubbing your eyes as you spoke between strangled sobs. “I’m sorry, it’s been a tough day and that’s the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me all week.”

Oh.

Your words are a tug to the heartstrings, and it sends his head reeling but relief was all that overwhelmed him. Bruce would never wish to see you hurt, especially when it’s caused by him. Actions of affection were primarily reserved for those closest to him, but he never experienced the urge to be intimate and care so much for a person ever since his parents died. Yet, out of everyone, you’re the one that brings out the most in him. Moving closer to you, he reaches and pulls you in a hesitant embrace. You stiffened at the mere touch of his arms around you, unsure of what to do with yourself.

Sure, you had a fair share of intimate moments with the man but this, this was different. You couldn’t shake the thought of how something so warm felt so right, smelt right. Despite the fact you had been trying to suppress your feelings for Bruce, and this was doing the exact opposite of that, you can’t help but feel this was what you needed at the moment. So, you let your body sag, muscles becoming loose and you let yourself truly cry for the first time.

You end up inviting him in later, when your tears are dry. You eat two of the bagels, sharing the last one with him. You called a peace offering, a gift of appreciation, for the whole emotional massacre you unexpectedly shoved at him. He simply laughs, eyes crinkling with fondness. He thinks you’re beautiful, especially when your hair is wild, laughing like you don’t have a care in the world. It’s what keeps him grounded, to know you’re raw and very real. The next thing you know, you end up shuffling cards of UNO until the wee hours of the morning—exchanging knowing smiles and Bruce trying to pick a Wild Draw card from the deck to get you to lose. But, he lets you win anyway.

He slept on your couch that night, still in his dress shirt. You must've peeked a glance at his sleeping form, squeezed onto the couch that’s clearly too small for him. Cute. You snap a picture before heading to bed. For blackmail purposes, of course.

You end up working a night shift at a burger joint called Big Belly Burger somewhere in midtown. Your first week comes and goes, and you’re starting to hate how your uniform itches and how the restaurant can get really filthy by the end of the day. Yet, it’s the kids from Cameron Kane High that come after school that keeps you going because it makes you miss being a teacher even though they tend to leave a mess after a meal.

Thursday comes and you’re exhausted. Even so, you’re thankful it’s a slow night. You’ve done all your cleaning duties earlier on and Lucie, the manager went out to buy a pack of cigarettes from the convenience store around the corner. Hence, it’s just you, slumped against the counter, devouring a Triple Belly Burger.

You’re half way through the burger when you hear the door swing open. Expecting to see Lucie, you turned around to see two men brandishing handguns your way. “Everything from the register, now!” The taller masked man shouted, gun gesturing to the cash register. Your eyes are wide, and you can feel your chest heaving. There was no way you’ll be able to fight them. Not two of them with guns pointed at you.

The burger drops from your hand and so does your heart. With trembling hands, you slide the drawer of the cash register open and begin pulling out dollar notes. From the corner of your eye, you spot your phone on the counter, close enough for you to make an emergency call. Your eyes scan the two men wearily and with every ounce of courage you had left, you managed to unlock your phone, pulled up the messaging app and texted the first name on the list: Bruce Wayne.

help, was all you managed to say.

To say your luck ran out was an understatement; you were never lucky anyway. One of the robbers must have caught on to what you were doing and just as the call goes through, he snatches your phone away, throws it onto the ground and shoots it.

So close, yet so far.

You don't know if the message got through.

The muzzle is now inches away from your forehead, and you hear the cock of the gun. “Don’t you dare pull somethin’ funny like or I’ll blow your brains out. Give us the money, now.” It was in that moment, your tears give way and your life flashes before your eyes. You pray for a miracle, a savior.

Then, you see him.

A looming figure appears by the doorway and your breath hitches. It’s Batman, looking like a Goddamn angel. The robbers seem to realize this too, guns quickly directed towards the vigilante. He launches batarangs to the pair of men and immediately disarms them. In a flash, he knocks them out, unconscious bodies dropping to the ground like dead flies.

You stare at him in awe although he’s very frightening and intimidating but Batman...just saved you. Now, this is a story you’re going to be telling everybody until the day you die. He approaches you with caution, and you instinctively take a step back. Then, he calls you by your name like it’s second nature. You stare at him with blank amazement, brows raised.

“You know my name?” Your voice dwindled; It’s so soft and timid you hardly hear yourself. Despite the mask, the vigilante looks like his brain just short-circuited for a moment. He clears his throat.

“...Bruce has mentioned you.”

You ignore how his synthetic voice makes every hair on the back of your neck stand and the familiarity that struck for a split second when he said your name because you’re too wrapped up with the fact that Bruce has discussed about you to his other ‘best friend’ as one might call it. Brooding over this lump of a thought, the corner of your mouth twitches. “He did?” you say with a hint of affection. It’s hard to read the man under the mask, whoever he was but you’re certain he looked taken aback by your response. Maybe, it was the way you delivered it—the longing in the very core of the expression. You may have outed your feelings for Bruce to...Batman.

This doesn’t get any stranger than that.

“Yes,” he replies curtly, and you hear the police sirens afar. “Are you hurt?” Like the true caretaker of Gotham, he wants to be sure you haven’t been injured. You shake your head, lips pressed together. The whaling of the police sirens grow louder, lights of red and blue flashing before your eyes. He appears like a shadow against the glaring lights from the police cruisers and before you can blink, he flees with a muttered ‘Goodnight’ and disappears before the police come flooding in and does Lucie. The poor woman looked at with frantic eyes as soon as she glimpsed the two men on the ground, groaning in pain.

The glint of the batarang on the floor captures your attention, you smile at this.

You may or may not have taken it back to your apartment that currently sits proudly on the bookshelf in your living room.

You’re so telling Bruce.

TAGLIST:

@raineeace

#bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #batman #batman x reader #batman x you #bruce wayne imagine #batman imagine #justice league

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jumptheshark · 2 years

Text

The room is silent and dark. It’s the middle of the night and Adam is wide awake. He had been asleep just a few moments ago, when it was still just him in his apartment, but he was awoken by a strange shuffling in his room.

Adam looks over to his window to find it pushed open, ushering in freezing air. Underneath it are long, deep scratch marks on the wooden ledge, as if something had clumsily forced its way into his second floor apartment. The thin curtains beside the window blow in the breeze and the room is cast in shades of blue from the faint light of the moon.

Adam’s heart beats hard in his ears as he scans the room. Still, he is able to hear the distinct sound of breathing layered atop his own. A floorboard underneath his bed creaks and the fear evaporates from Adam; he knows exactly who is in the room with him. Quietly, he shifts to the edge of the bed before leaning over the mattress to look underneath.

There, he finds two eyes in the shadows, barely visible in the darkness of the room. The air around them is very still and very cold. The mattress squeaks as Adam shifts and the eyes blink.

“What are you doing down there?” Adam whispers. The blood is already rushing to his upside-down head. The eyes narrow and shift back.

“Nothing.”

“Okay…” This is not the first time, Adam suspects, his room has been occupied by someone else in the night. It is, however, the first time he has been awake to catch the perpetrator in the act.

Now that he’s caught him, though, he isn’t sure what to say. He doesn’t think there’s anything to say. The two of them had tried that at the beginning, stumbling through halfhearted apologies and failed attempts at forgiveness. They had both lived so much since their deaths that it felt pointless to remedy a wrong from over ten (or a thousand) years ago. So instead of saying anything, Adam slowly shifts back from the edge of his bed and up onto his knees. He plants one foot on the smooth wood, half expecting a cold hand to dart out and grab his ankle. When one doesn’t, he sets down his other and crouches to the ground.

“Can I join you?” he asks the shadow underneath his bed.

From his crouched position, it is much easier to see the small nod he receives. He figures it’s the best he’s going to get, so he slides down onto his stomach and pushes himself underneath his bed, kicking up a truckload of dust as he does so. It’s cold on the bare wood, but the breath on his face is warm.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Ghoul replies, a soft smile gracing his face. Their words are barely even a whisper, just the movement of lips and a slight manipulation of air.

Before Adam can think of something to say, Ghoul’s hand comes up and over his waist, tugging him close. He should feel bad for the way he leans into it so quickly, but he can’t bring himself to care. Ghoul may be flaky and a bit unnerving, but at least he’s there; at least he hasn’t abandoned Adam.

As Ghoul flips over to lie on his back, Adam shifts with him. He shivers in his shorts and t-shirt, but Ghoul’s hoodie is soft and warm when he lays his head on his chest.

This agreement they’ve come to is still new. Neither of them has had a “normal” dating experience - at least not in a thousand years. There’s a lot of awkwardness most of the time, like neither of them has any idea how to be around another person. Still, they make it work. Maybe it’s the shared face, or maybe it’s the same feeling of desperate loneliness, but they manage to find a sort of easy balance in each other. Adam tries and fails not to think about the easy balance he had known before.

As if he can hear the thoughts swirling in Adam’s head, Ghoul’s fingers come up to gently comb through his hair. Warmth spreads out from Adam’s chest into his arms and fingertips, bringing him out of his concerns. His bed frame above them brushes the back of his head every time he breathes, but he doesn’t mind. His partner definitely seems comfortable.

They lie there in silence for what feels like an eternity (or would, if Adam weren’t so acquainted with eternity already). Eventually, sleep tugs at him once again as the steady rhythm of Ghoul’s fingers in his hair relaxes him further and further. It has been a long time since he’s fallen asleep in someone’s arms and the feeling is intoxicating. In the morning, he might feel guilty about betraying someone who isn’t there to care, but for now he allows himself this moment of selfishness.

#midamoul #i am cringe but i am free #txt #this is very cringe actually but listen. i don’t care #ignore my bad attempts at establishing setting it’s fine we’re all here for the hugging anyway #if it isn’t clear this is set when michaels still in the empty #ficlet #words #my fics

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justimajin · 3 years

Text

Til Death Do Us Part ♜ Pt.5

➟ Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

➟ Genre: Angst, Fluff, Eventual Smut

↳ (4.5k), Arranged Marriage AU

➟ Summary: If someone told you that you’d be marrying the Kim Namjoon, you would think you were being lied to, or worse, that you were hallucinating. However, fate seems to have it’s own ways of making the impossible possible and before you even know it, the title of Mrs. Kim is bestowed onto you. There’s just one problem: you’re not sure if Kim Namjoon is the person he says he is and the truth of your own identity is dangling by the strength of a mere thread.

➟ Warnings: 18+ rating, nightmare depictions, discussions surrounding death

gif credit.

➟ Previous Parts: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

➟ Next Update: Tuesday, January 19

The room is pitch black.

Your feet are submerged within a pool of translucent water, a light breeze nipping at your features. Taking a cautious step ahead, your eyes hesitantly glance around.

“Hello?” You call out, your voice morphing into an echo that faintly bounces off the walls. You turn to look behind you with no avail, “Hello?”

Silence greets you once again. A deep frown marrs your features as goosebumps begin to rise on your skin. Your hand comes up to hug your cold arm, and it leaves a red handprint in his stead.

You involuntarily flinch at the sight, but that’s when your eyes narrow below you and you finally notice the water contaminating with red.

Nearly stumbling back, it splatters all over your pearl dress, drenching it within moments. No matter how much you splash around and kick it away, it caresses your feet, like a hand clasping onto your limb.

“W-What?” Your breathing grows thin, a hard knot constricting around your throat. A flash of red passes by the corner of your eyes, and your gaze snaps up, only to be struck by horror.

Taehyung is clad in the colour, his back facing you. Although you can’t catch a glimpse of his face, the eerie feeling curling in the pit of your stomach is telling enough.

“T-Taehyung…?” He doesn’t turn to face you, but you still plead, “W-Where am I?”

“Why are you asking him?”

You whirl around in an instant, knees on the verge of giving out.

Eunjoo stands before you in the sea of crimson, but unlike you who's been tangled in it, she’s completely drenched. There’s a familiar butter knife in her hands and you dryly swallow, chest tightening.

She reaches out, as if wanting to hand you the knife. You viciously shake your head, your trembling hands raising in defense.

That’s when you catch sight of them, eyes transfixing on the drenched nightmare in the flesh.

“No….” You whisper, desperately attempting to rub away the scarlet residue from your hands. It clings uncomfortably close and despite all your efforts, it’s tainted your skin permanently.

“N-No, please…..” An overflow of tears accumulate in your eyes, voice cracking. You glance up petrified, orbs practically begging for help.

Eunjoo stares back at you with hollow pupils, disappointment crossing her features.

Your body quivers in fear as the scarlet begins to only spread, bleeding through your skin and consuming you entirely.

Eyes flashing open, you wake up in bed with a sharp gasp. Your chest is heaving, and there’s a thin sheen of sweat uncomfortably clinging to your body. Placing a heavy hand over your racing heart, your irises carefully roam around, dawning upon you that you were simply in your bedroom and not on the verge of drowning.

You swallow hard as your trembling hand fists the material of your shirt. You wonder how many times it’s been now, how many times those images have managed to enter your head and threatened to split it in half; a familiar wretched scent wafting through the air as sanguine hands ultimately tug you back.

Slowly sliding off the bed, you wipe away the excess water that’s collecting in the corner of your eyes, and dart your vision over to the large couch in the corner of the room.

Eyes shut and arms loosely crossed, Namjoon carries a peaceful smile on his lips through his unconsciousness. It contradicts the horror that’s been replaying in your head, keeping you awake even in pitch black and willing to drive you insane. A tired sigh passes by the seam of your lips, gripping the sheets underneath you as your brows snap together.

Despite your desperate attempts, you’re not even granted a lick of sleep during that night.

***

Time is an illusion.

It would pass slowly within the walls of the Kim household ‒ that much you knew ‒ but now it was playing with you, deluding your thoughts into thinking that the loss of it was natural when in fact, you can’t even recall the last time you’ve gotten a decent night of rest.

The days flow by too quickly. The nights take too long to end. And you are dangling in between them, waiting for the nightmare to be over.

A low yawn leaves Namjoon’s lips, and he forces himself up with a grunt, rubbing his parched throat in dismay. Rising from his makeshift bed, he nearly stumbles in his attempt to leave the room, hoping to retrieve something to ease his thirst.

That’s when he hears it, so faint but enough for his keen ears to pick up on.

He spins around with a frown, tired eyes suddenly widening at the sight of you twisting around and convulsing in bed.

Approaching cautiously, he notices the way your shoulders are quivering and the deep breaths that escape your lips by the minute, almost as if your lungs were on the verge of giving up.

Namjoon lowers himself onto the bed, whispering in a soft tone, “Y/N…”

You continue to shift around, sweat forming at your temples. Namjoon places a hand against your shoulder, gently shaking you.

“Y/N….” Your breathing abruptly escalates, and he tries again, this time quicker, “Y/N‒”

You suddenly grab onto him and Namjoon jolts back, eyes completely awake. Fisting the material of his shirt within your hands, a handful of broken words leaves your lips.

“P-Please….” Voice wavering, water begins to form within the corners of your shut eyes, “Please....j-just leave me alone.…”

“Please….” You plead again. Namjoon takes your hand that has a hold of him and carefully loosens your grip. However the moment he does, you nearly slump down into arms, appearing exhausted beyond belief.

A deep crease resides between his brows, and he peers behind him, staring at the bedroom door. After a prolonged pause, he turns back to you, a pang of distress beginning to spread through his irises.

With a swift tug, your blanket is raised, and it’s not long before he nestles himself in, keeping his arms wrapped around your quivering form. Your head rests against his chest, faintly hearing the soft rhythmical beats of his heart.

Gazing at you once more, Namjoon places his head against the pillow and closes his eyes, plunging into a deep sleep.

***

As if caught up in the middle of a daze, you wake up the next morning with empty irises and a pale complexion. You barely pay any attention to how the blanket covering you has been ruffled and messy, or how there’s a light layer of warmth that emits from only one side of the bed.

You spend the rest of dawn aimlessly eating breakfast, something you quickly scraped together. Lingering in the kitchen for too long has your hands trembling, so you opt out for taking your meal in your bedroom as familiar whispers echo around you.

You’re in the midst of consuming your food when the door creaks open. The sound of light footsteps, shuffling cautiously against the ground doesn’t instantly register with your ears and it’s only at the second call of your name with a jerk to your shoulder that you jolt.

The food splatters onto the ground, creating a mess that ultimately breaks you out of your stupor.

“O-Oh, my bad.” A light chuckle leaves you, but it’s too strained. “I-I’ll clean up.”

You aimlessly glance around, all while Namjoon’s gaze doesn’t leave you once. There’s something indecipherable brewing in his eyes as he remains kneeling in place, before he rises immediately, striding over to you.

His hand clasps around your wrist, halting your actions.

“Leave it.”

You peer at him puzzled, but it doesn’t take him another second to intertwine his fingers within yours, heading towards the door. Reluctantly following behind him, you nearly stumble when he swings by one particular corridor, before reaching a certain door.

It’s one you recognize right away, one that offers a gush of wind when it’s opened, an ocean of flowers welcoming you instantly.

The scenery draws perplexment out of you, yet the open breeze spawns effortless air into your lungs, making you almost feel like you can finally breathe again. Your eyelids are on the verge of fluttering close as your shoulders drop, but you keep them astray once a lingering question conjures in your thoughts ‒ the very reason you’re here.

Whirling around with furrowed brows, you’re taken aback by Namjoon’s heavy gaze, wide eyes recognizing the scrutinizing manner his orbs take up.

You flush from the immediate attention, “W-Why did you bring me here?”

Cautiously peering up, you’re baffled at how something seems to ease within his irises, the familiar warmth you were accustomed to spreading through.

“You looked like you needed some fresh air.”

You tilt your head to the side with a frown from the comment, wondering why he would have such a thought.

A deep silence washes over, the sound of the wind simply echoing as you peer above the sky and Namjoon surveys the flowers beneath his shoes. You’re not quite sure if you should say something in rebuttal or as a counteract, but you don’t ponder over it for long.

Namjoon is the first to clear his throat, disrupting the lack of words.

“Why….” His voice is low, close to a whisper, “Why don’t you go back?”

Your head snaps around to face him, eyes wide, “W-What?”

He clarifies, louder this time, “Why don’t you go back home?”

“I-I….” You struggle for an answer, one question only spilling, “Why?”

For a moment, Namjoon hesitates. You catch onto it right away, the reluctance evident on his features.

“The burden of my future rests on your shoulders because of our marriage…”

He sucks in a sharp inhale and at this point, your heart is beginning to viciously thud against your ribcage. It worsens when Namjoon abruptly glances up, staring at you flat in the eyes.

“And you don’t seem to be happy.” It’s not an observation, but a mere fact.

“I‒….”

“Think about it. For as long as you want. And if‒”

There’s an ocean of distraught lingering in his pupils, “And if there’s a need to divorce..... Then let me know.”

His brows knit together, and his jaw tenses, lips settling into a firm line. He appears to be patiently waiting, waiting for you to speak up about your thoughts.

You dip into a brief silence before answering and when you do, your voice cracks.

“I-I can’t go back…”

Namjoon’s brows shoot up, “What?”

A somber smile surfaces on you, “My parents, my family,” You quickly clarify, “They won’t let me come back.”

Namjoon still looks just as baffled, “What? But how can they‒” A lightbulb immediately goes off in his mind, voice falling into a whisper, “The union….”

You robotically nod and it finally dawns to him that what has occurred between the two of you isn’t a simple marriage.

It is a union of two families ‒ two families that would have otherwise been at each other’s necks hadn’t it been for some type of peace offering.

And if you were to go back, it would mean the delicacy holding this union together would ultimately crumble, creating chaos unlike no other.

Namjoon scowls as he spits out the cutting words.

“Of course it’s about the union at the end of the day.”

The sudden change in his tone results in your head snapping up, a gasp nearly leaving your lips. Namjoon meets your gaze, suddenly very aware of your eyes on him.

“Do you remember how you told my parents the reason that you didn’t want to get involved in your father’s business?” You nod at the abrupt inquiry, and Namjoon sighs, a bitter smile lining his lips, “I don’t think I ever told you the reason why I got involved.”

Namjoon chuckles at your instant curiosity, “You’d be surprised, it’s quite on par with the reasoning behind our marriage.”

“When I first found out about my family’s business, from my father, my view of it was similar to yours,” He gestures to you, “Indifferent, apathetic, but at the end of the day, what I thought didn’t really matter.”

“I sort of fell into it initially,” He explains, “Some of it because of interest, some of it because of skill, but a lot of it was because of obligation.”

Your eyes meet his silently.

“I was given the title of heir even though I just wanted to help out my family, an opinion I still believe to be my first mistake.”

“They’ve convinced me that this business needs me to survive and prosper, but ultimately,” He laughs, but it isn’t out of amusement, “I'm just a tool.”

Your heart rate nearly stops, breathing stilling completely.

Namjoon peers in your direction and you attempt to paint an attentive expression onto your features, but it’s harder to do so this time around.

Instead, there’s a certain anguish in your eyes that reflect his own, almost as if he were gazing into a mirror.

As the breeze picks up, he eventually leads you away from the garden once you’ve had your ample intake of fresh air. Heading back into the house, you silently follow behind, sight glued to his back.

In the midst of your hushed trailing, the words vividly return back to you.

"You're a tool now, Y/N. From here on, you must follow our every instruction and order."

***

Namjoon stands outside of your bedroom door, patiently waiting for you to finish walking up the stairs. The moment you’re on the same ground level as him, he warmly smiles.

“I have to head work now, urgent duty calls….”

You solemnly nod, “‒But I’ll be back before night falls, in case y-you know....uh, you need me….”

Your eyes instantly light up, like a deer caught up in headlights. Namjoon teeter totters from side to side, a rapid flush suddenly rising onto his skin. You ponder over its cause, but the thought immediately dissipates once he cups your cheek with his hand.

If your eyes were wide before, then they were tremendously wide now.

Namjoon leans forward, pressing a soft kiss right at the centre of your forehead. You are completely frozen during the interaction, mouth falling agape as he takes a step back.

You’re once again his mirror, but alongside the rapid hue of scarlet dusting on your cheeks, you have the addition of your skin tingling from the contact, breaths becoming caught within your throat.

His flush has deepened considerably, and he laughs, as if trying to ward off any lingering embarrassment. He lingers for a moment, like he was debating on whether or not to leave, before ultimately remembering that he was supposed to be at work soon.

As Namjoon departs, your vision remains on his back, following his descent down the stairs. Once he’s clearly gone, you spin around, hands finding the steel knob of your bedroom’s door.

You freeze for a moment, staring down at the door handle for what seems like an eternity. Reaching up, your other hand softly touches the tip of your forehead, right where his lips brushed across.

For some strange reason, it’s like someone had released a bundle of butterflies and they were all fluttering around in the pit of your stomach.

***

The room is murky, a large shadow casting itself over the lavish bed. Soft knocks resonate from one particular corner, the plastic container balancing within your hands as you remain crouched down in position.

You patiently wait for a moment, the correspondence going silent. An exhausted sigh escapes your lips, legs beginning to slump down and spread out across the ground.

There no longer seems to be a spark of urgency in your actions anymore, obligation taking over more than necessary. You wonder if it’s because you’re simply tired, tired of running away from a nightmare that has become your reality.

For a brief moment, your head comfortably lulls back against the wall and you allow your eyes to flutter shut.

Static echoes immediately.

You jolt up in alarm, vision dazed until it lands upon the box. You lift it in your hands, freezing for a moment.

Be on guard.

The corner of your mouth twitches and you unplug the cord within an instant. The static dies out and you bring your knees closer to your head, fisting your dangling locks with your hands.

Although the words seem to carry concern and distress, you know you’re not far too naive to understand the underlying implication.

You need a plan.

But the problem is your mind is completely void of anything. Clouds have overtaken the place where there should be buzzing electricity, the task being as easy as knowing the back of your palm.

For a split second ‒ you ponder if you actually have it in you to figure something out to get back on track.

Fisting your hands into balls, you slowly rise from the ground, taking a second glance at the container before packing it away. A heavy exhale escaping your lips, the dismay rooting deep in your eyes.

***

You slide down the layering staircase, the mute atmosphere of the residence making you fidget your hands around. Vision landing onto a nearby window, you peer outside, noticing the white flowers getting drenched by the heavy rain. You sight lands beneath them, pools of translucent water beginning to slowly collect.

You avert your eyes immediately, hands slightly quivering. A shaky deep breath escapes and your lips press into a tight line, down-turning into a frown.

The front door comes slamming open.

You spin around, shoulders instantly spike up and a hand pressing against your chest. Namjoon stands before you, nearly drenched from the downpour outside.

However, that’s not where your sight lands. It’s the frightful expression he holds that draws your attention more.

Swallowing hard, you take careful steps towards him.

“Y-Y/N…” His hands latch onto your arms right away, eyes rapidly flickering.

You tilt your head to the side, appearing as puzzled as you can. Yet that’s easier said than done, and you hope Namjoon doesn’t notice the way your hands are trembling and how stiff your shoulders have become.

“I-I…..”

You faintly touch his shoulder, “Namjoon, what is it?”

Namjoon’s gaze meets yours and you hold your breath, attempting to brace yourself as much as possible.

“....Taehyung’s been killed.”

Your heart rate shoots up to an alarming rate, and you fight back the urge to cower away from him. There’s no excuse for you to be reacting this way since after all, the information he presents isn’t new knowledge at all.

You’ve been waiting for this.

Eunjoo has been reported missing, and Taehyung is nowhere to be found either.

The latter was presumed to be occupied with business, on an urgent trip of some sorts that led to his absence.

But you know that such a tale can’t be woven with evidence.

The next question that sits on the tip of your tongue makes your heart want to burst, yet it has to be asked regardless.

“W-Who would do such a thing?”

“I’m not too sure.” He presses a hand against his temples, “They found the corpse nearby here, but it was barely identifiable...almost like he was set aflame.”

You swallow hard.

Namjoon deeply sighs, shaking his head, “An investigation has opened up so hopefully we’ll be able to find out soon.”

You visibly relax, shoulders slumping down. There’s a crease between his brows, and he appears lost in thought as you glance at him in confusion.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing, just‒” He shrugs and fumbles around, “Eunjoo went missing around the same time Taehyung was killed, so I’m just wondering if there’s a possibility of the two instances being connected.”

Your eyes immensely enlarge as you morph into a block of ice, pupils fixated on Namjoon. He was an extremely keen thinker based on his profile and you wonder if that particular trait of his was going to ultimately be the one following your downfall.

Namjoon turns to you, “That brings me to another matter‒what do you think about hiring someone to replace Eunjoo for the time being?”

“H-Huh?” You blink, noticing him waiting for your response. A hard knot is starting to restrict around your throat and the longer you stand beside him, the more your chest has begun to painfully tighten. “Uh, sure‒yes, that’s a good idea.”

Namjoon nods with a smile, patting your shoulder before heading into a room on the ground level. The moment he’s out of sight, you escape right away, entering your bedroom within seconds.

Once the door is tightly locked behind you, your trembling hands reach out to cover your face. Hot tears roll down your flushed skin, your knees giving in as you slide down the wall, collapsing against the wall.

***

Sunshine floods into the house past the curtains, a bright piercing light that only seems to sting at your swollen eyes. You descend slowly down the stairs, careful not to succumb down to fatigue and stumble on your way down.

The moment you reach the bottom, your eyes widen and transfix with horror.

Namjoon is seated on a couch, the remaining three shareholders surrounding them. They seem to be in some sort of deep conversation until Namjoon catches sight of you, a warm look residing within his eyes.

“Did you sleep well?” He wonders as you draw near, pupils sweeping through the shareholders expressions. They hold an air of both distraught and somberness, but there’s something brewing underneath that nearly has you staggering back.

Anger.

Motionlessly, you nod in response and Namjoon gestures for you to sit down with him. No one speaks a word against him for your inclusion and for a moment, you wonder if it’s worse to have it that way.

“Taehyung left during the night after you returned from escorting Y/N to your driver.” There’s a sheet of paper in front of Yoongi, containing a range of scribbles and bullet points that have obstructed circles and multiple question marks around them. It gives you an inkling to the conversation that was being held before you entered, unease stirring within the pit of your stomach.

“He had a gun with him.” Hoseok explains, brows intensely furrowed as his eyes scrutinize all over the notes, “Or at least, that’s what the servants at his mansion said.”

“Why on earth would he need a gun?” Yoongi whispers, shaking his head at the information. You uncomfortably shift in your seat, hands beginning to fist the soft cloth of your skirt.

“Do you think it’s because he thought someone might try to kill him?” Jungkook immediately says, glancing back and forth with wide eyes.

“Or maybe because he needed to kill someone.” Namjoon darkly retorts, locking eyes with Yoongi in an instant. Something sparks within his irises, and he rapidly scribbles down on the sheet of paper.

It’s almost like someone has wrapped their hands around your throat, cutting off your air supply with every word they pronounce. You attempt to keep a face of naivety and confusion on, acting more like an innocent doll than anything.

Yet there’s murmurs of your hands tightening on instinct, or the way your eyes can’t help but dart around manically ‒ simple things that glitch out the more you try to repress them.

As Namjoon and Yoongi ponder over if Taehyung has made any new enemies recently, you decide it would be best to look for a route of the situation, something meek that you can excuse yourself with and that Namjoon wouldn’t even bat an eyelash over. However that’s when your eyes come into contact with foreign ones, and the glitches are on the verge of magnifying by tenfold.

There’s a face before you that you haven’t encountered beyond, round with a wise smile and eyes kind that reflect the desire to be useful more than anything. Your breath grows thin within an instant and the urge to stagger away hits you.

“Did you want something to eat, Miss Y/N?” She tilts her head to the side, humbly offering her services. “I can make some tea with tarts for you if you’d like.”

The fabric beneath your fingers is tightened until your knuckles turn white and you remain frozen, simply staring at her as if her words made no sense.

Hoseok suddenly speaks to Namjoon and the sound of their interaction jolts you back, mind running in alarm as you hurriedly rise from your seat.

There’s a bittersweet smile on your lips, “No thank you, I should be fine.”

She nods understanding and then bows, but you easily catch the look of distress she holds from your refusal. You pay her no mind as you scramble away, heading straight into your room.

From afar, you notice the look in the corner of Namjoon’s eyes as you scurry away, a linger of concern painfully radiating in his irises.

***

Namjoon has completely lost track of time.

He can’t recall moments his mind wasn’t preoccupied with Taehyung’s investigation, the reminder of the day sending him through a loop as he constantly tried to come up with conclusions with Yoongi, Hoseok and Jungkook. Even when he offered to temporarily halt their actions and look at the case with fresh eyes later, his suggestion was shot down and refused nonetheless.

He pinches his eyes together with his fingers, a deep sigh slipping out from the seams of his lips. Blinking a couple of times, his sight lands on the door to your shared bedroom, thoughts immediately arising about you.

He hasn’t seen you all day, and the new maid tells him that you’ve been in your room for hours since he encountered you this morning. The news about the entire mayhem is already too much for him, so he can’t help but wonder what’s swirling in your mind about it.

Entering the room carefully, he already notices you lying asleep on the bed as he quietly heads towards the couch, prepared to collapse down at any second.

The sound of sheets ruffling immediately catches on to his keen ears.

His head snaps up, gaze landing on your shaking form. Drawing closer, he notices the sheets have been considerably tousled, and that your breathing is coming out alarmingly erratic, as if you were struggling to breath.

Namjoon doesn’t hesitate to occupy the side of the bed opposite to you, his arms wrapping around your form like it was second nature to him. However in the midst of his actions, he doesn’t notice that your eyes have fluttered open, freshly awake from the ongoing nightmare.

To his complete surprise, you roll over and tug him closer.

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