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thealtoduck · 1 year

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Being adopted by Bruce Wayne…

Batfamily x Adopted!Male Reader

Warnings: Physical and psychological abuse of a child (nothing descriptive), reader has a panic attack.

Summary: After saving a boy from an abusive household Bruce adopts another kid…

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You never got to meet your real parents all you was that they were a young couple who weren’t ready to have a kid, so you grew up in foster care.

When you were 9 years old you were adopted by a couple in their early 40s. First time you met them you could tell something was off. Though they passed the foster care’s check meaning they were allowed to adopt you.

In the beginning your adopted parents were nice but that only lasted for a short while then things soured. It started with glares, then insults, then a hit, then two…

4 years later…

You were currently sat in a room dark as coal in the basement where your parents would lock you when they were done beating you so they wouldn’t have to look at you. You were crying as your body ached.

You heard footsteps coming down the stairs to the basement and you thought your parents were back so you sat back and just waited for the door to unlock. But the door was kicked open revealing a man in cowl and cape. It was Batman.

You instinctively cowered as he took a step closer. He kneeled down and said calmly ”Don’t worry i’m not going to hurt you”. You made eye contact with him. ”Did your parents put you in here?” He asked softly. You hesitated but then nodded.

”Don’t worry, you won’t have to deal with them anymore, they’ve been arrested for their weapon dealing associations with the Gotham crime families” he explained. He reached out a hand to you and said ”Come with me, i’ll take you somewhere safe.

You just looked at his for a few seconds and then took it. The Batman escorted you out of your parents house and tried to hand you over to the GCPD, who were going to take you to social services.

Though as you approached comissioner Gordon you hid behind Batman who said comfortingly ”It’s okay they are going to help you”. You emerged from behind him and went with the police.

As Bruce got in to the batmobile he made a call ”Alfred, i need you to set up a bedroom”. ”Are we expecting company Master Bruce?” Alfred asked. ”Potentionally” Bruce answered.

You were first physically examined just to make sure you didn’t need immediate medical attention. After that you were questioned about what your parents had done to you, then they left you to a recovery center where they would treat your injuries and let you stay a few days.

A few days later they took you in for a meeting to meet with a potiental foster parent. They brought you into a room where a man with black hair and an expensive looking suit were waiting. ”Mr L/n, this is Bruce Wayne, Mr Wayne, this is Y/n L/n” The social service worker introduced you.

Bruce held out a hand and said ”It’s nice to meet you Y/n”. You shook his hand shyly but said nothing. ”He’s not much of a talker” the social worker assured him.

She and Bruce then discussed the possibilty of him becoming your adoptive father if you’d like living with him. It all eventually came down to your choice if you decided to go with him. You nodded.

The next day Bruce took you to Wayne Manor, he tried to make small talk but you were still silent to the point he wondered if you could even speak. He then stopped outside the manor and the two of you walked inside.

Waiting inside the Manor was a the butler who introduced himself as Alfred he offered to take your bag to your room so you handed it to him and uttered a low ”Thank you” to not seem rude.

Bruce then gave you a tour of the manor and then showed you to your room. He said he needed to get back to work in his office and that you were free to do whatever you wanted and to tell Alfred if you needed anything.

As he left you looked around your room it was nice and big but pretty empty at the moment so you left to take a look around the manor. You made your way to find Alfred who was in the kitchen making lunch.

Alfred noticed your presence and asked ”Oh, Hello master Y/n, how may i be of service?”. You only shrugged. ”Oh having a look around i see, could i offer you a drink or something to eat?” Alfred offered you shook your head and said ”No, thank you, i’ll wait”.

”Alright then, well if your looking for company your welcome to stay as Master Bruce’s other children are at school or work” He told you. You decided to stay with Alfred as you found him nice.

You sat down on a stool by the kitchen island and continued watching as Alfred cooked.

”Morning Alfred” a voice said and you looked to see a tall buff guy with black hair and a streak of white in the front, he looked to be in his early 20s. ”Master Jason, nice of you to join us” Alfred greeted. ”Us?” Jason questioned and then noticed you.

”Oh yeah right, he got another one” Jason remembered. ”Master Jason, this is Y/n L/n, Master Y/n this is Jason Todd, master Bruce’s second oldest” Alfred introduced the two of you. ”Hey kid” Jason said walking over to the fridge. You gave him a shy wave in return.

”What’s for breakfast Alfred?” Jason the questioned and the butler answered ”Lunch”. ”Cool my favorite breakfast” Jason stated. The three of you then sat down and ate lunch when you finished Alfred sent you and Jason to the library so he could help you pick out a few books that you could read to keep entertained.

After that when you and Jason were carrying a few books to your room you stopped outside a room where the door was open, you glanced inside.

”Oh that’s the gym, wanna go inside and check it out?” Jason asked, you nodded and you dropped off the books of in your room.

Jason then showed you the gym, you went over and looked at a punching bag and Jason said encouragingly ”Come on give it a hit”. You folded you hand in to a fist and gave the punching bag a light hit.

”Well not bad but could use some improvement” Jason commented and started giving you a lesson in proper boxing techique. He commented that ”You don’t know yet but being a capable fighter will come in useful in this family” you didn’t know what he meant by that but assumed he was joking.

Later that day you were introduced to the rest of family, which was a bit intimidating but they seemed to quickly pick up on your shyness and gave you space.

Though you were quick to bond with Dick, Stephanie, Duke and Barbara who were more sociable. It was harder for you to bond with Cassandra, Tim and Damian who kept more to themselves.

After living with them for a while they decided to tell you about their activities as vigilantes and you promised to keep their secrets.

Your combat training is what would bring you and Damian closer. He would walk in on you practising and Damian’s need to constantly be the smartest person in the room set in. He stood and commented stuff like ”You need extend your kicks more”.

Damian helped you master the basics and then started showing you new stuff, he took you under his wing and made himself responsible for your training.

Soon you started hanging out outside of that and would watch movies together, sit together and read books. Damian appreciated that you were calmer and quieter than your siblings.

Bruce thought this was good as you were only a year older than Damian and he needed to be around someone his own age.

The others would also be made aware of your past home life after an incident where you, Dick and Jason were hanging out in the kitchen and you accidentally broke a glass and reacted by crying and hyperventilating while trying to quickly clean up the pieces of glass, cutting your hands in the process.

Jason and Dick quickly understood you were having a panic attack and immediately started comforting you while Dick cleaned up the glass and got a first aid kit to clean your cuts.

Jason assured you that it was alright and that no one was mad at you and that nothing bad would happen. Then Dick and Jason would clean your cuts and watch a comforting tv show with you.

The family made sure to keep an extra eye on you to make sure you knew you were safe with them and that they would protect you.

#batfam x male reader #batfamily x male reader #bruce wayne x son reader #bruce wayne x son!reader #jason todd x brother reader #dick grayson x brother!reader #damian wayne x brother reader #batboys x male reader #batman x male reader #batfamily x batbro!reader #batfamily x male!reader #batfam x male!reader #dc x male reader #dc comics x male reader #batbro male reader #jason todd x male reader #dick grayson x male reader #damian wayne x male reader #bruce wayne x male reader

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lumelii · 3 years

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THANK YOU ~|~ NANAMI X FEM!READER

Summary: Tensions are high in the Nanami household. Outside influence (and bribery) are needed.

Content warnings: slight angst, child-parent relations, singledad!Nanami

Note: This is my first fic on this blog, so let me know what you think! Big thanks to Moni for beta-reading this for me <3

word count: 2.0k

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“I hate you!”

Nanami couldn’t stop his flinch as Yuuji slammed the door to his room behind him. He didn’t have the energy now to scold him for slamming his door. Instead, he heaved a deep sigh and walked back down their small hallway to the living room to collapse on the couch. The bottle of whisky safely locked away in the cabinet above the fridge called to him but he resisted the urge. When Yuuji finally came out, he wanted to be completely sober so they could sit down and talk this out.

He could have left the apartment right now, found Gojou, and throttled him after choking him on those concert tickets. Whatever had possessed him to think two twelve-year-old boys could go out by themselves in the middle of the night to the show of a band whose music was far too mature for them anyway, Nanami didn’t know, and he guessed Toji didn’t know about it either. Otherwise the idea wouldn’t have left the Fushiguro house.

As soon as Yuuji had seen those tickets, it was the only thing he could talk about, filling their daily walk home from his school with his excited chatter. Nanami listened as intently as he could while trying to push all thoughts of work out of his head, putting all focus on his son. But when he heard just what band the boys were planning on seeing, the conversation had deteriorated to the point where Yuuji had begun yelling at his father, uttering those final three words before entombing himself in his room.

Nanami had resisted the pull to argue right back with Yuuji, but a thirty-something year old man arguing with his twelve-year-old son was downright ridiculous, and he had to take the high road in situations like this. Even despite his outburst, Nanami would not budge. Yuuji wouldn’t be allowed to go to the concert, and he would go so far as to call Toji and suggest he do the same with Megumi. He wasn’t afraid to be the bad guy if it meant his family was safe.

A sudden knock startled him from his reflection to look at the front door. He wasn’t expecting anyone to stop by, and he hadn’t buzzed anyone into the apartment. His heart quickened unwillingly at the rising probability of who it could be.

His suspicions were confirmed when he finally opened the door and saw you, his very sweet, very attractive next-door neighbor standing there, a smile crossing your face when he finally appeared. He tried not to focus on how your shirt clung perfectly to your curves, or your jeans, though stained with something he guessed was peanut butter, emphasized your small waist and shapely legs. Your dog helped him focus, distracting him from your form as he curiously watched it lick a spot of peanut butter from your jeans.

“Sorry, he snuck out the door with me as I was leaving.” Your smile grew sheepish as you held up a plate filled with treats. “Sounded like you both were having a rough day. But I guess now’s not the best time?”

“No, please, come in.” Nanami stepped aside and allowed you and your companion to enter. “We’ve just had a long day.”

The large dog plodded down the apartment’s small hallway and stopped at Yuuji’s door, pawing at it once with a whine. The door opened just enough for the animal to slip through before it slammed shut again.

“Is everything alright?” The look of genuine concern on your face made his heart tighten just for a moment while you sat on the couch together. “Is there anything I can do?”

“No, he’s upset I won’t let him go to the Raising Dead concert with Megumi by themselves.” Nanami sighed. “Unless I change all my beliefs in the next week, he still won’t be going.”

“Raising Dead?” Your eyes went unimaginably wide. “My mom wouldn’t let me even see them when I was 18. They’re a little…mature aren’t they? For someone Yuuji’s age? How did he even hear about them?”

“Exactly why I won’t allow him to go.” Nanami pointed out. “His best friend Megumi got the tickets from his,” he paused for a moment to consider how he could explain the relationship, “uncle. I guess they listen to the band together.”

“Well, I think you’re making the right decision, not that my opinion matters.” Your smile was soft as you rested a hand on his arm, making his skin burn in your wake. “I heard they rip heads off of chickens at their concerts.”

Your opinion is the only one that matters. He bit back the words and cleared his throat, shifting so your hand fell off his arm, but your touch still lingered. “It doesn’t change the fact that Yuuji is upset with me. He wanted the opportunity to go with his friend, and I stopped him from doing that.”

You considered this, looking toward the door to Yuuji’s room. “Do you want me to try to talk to him?”

“He’s pretty upset. Do you think he’d want to talk to you?”

“I could try. I had an overprotective parent too.” You grinned as he scoffed at your remark.

“I’m not overprotective.” Nanami frowned at her.

“You were one scraped knee away from sending him to kindergarten wrapped in bubble wrap for the rest of the year.”

“He kept getting hurt.”

You rolled your eyes at him, but there was no malice as you paired it with a soft smile. Standing, you grabbed the plate of cookies off the table and started walking towards Yuuji’s door. He followed you, leaning against the wall where Yuuji wouldn’t be able to see him if he didn’t open his door fully. He watched as you took a deep breath before knocking softly. “Yuuji? I made cookies. Do you want some?”

There was silence for several moments before Yuuji’s voice finally came from the other side.

“What kind?” He sounded muffled.

“Peanut butter chocolate chip.”

Another silent moment passed, then his door opened just enough to let his arm through, feeling around blindly for the treats. You held the plate just out of his reach when he was about to touch the edge.

“If you want them, you have to let me in.”

Yuuji considered this, his arm going limp before retreating completely just as his door opened a fraction more. “Just you.” He emphasized.

You turned to him with a small smile and squeezed your way into his room, the door finally closing softly for once this afternoon.

Nanami started to take a step forward to listen, but hesitated at the last minute. Although he had just denied it with his neighbor, he was overprotective, and that side of him screamed to listen in so he could know how Yuuji was, but it was clear he needed his space. If Yuuji found out he had been eavesdropping, that would only make it worse.

He forced himself to walk away, changing out of his work clothes into a t-shirt and going into the kitchen to start making dinner while they talked. He turned on an instrumental playlist, not wanting to deal with lyrics while he was so deep in thought, his mind occupied with his son and the problem he was currently facing at work.

About an hour later (and several shameless tiptoes down the squeaky hall to see if you two were still talking), Nanami looked up to see you and Yuuji turning the corner into the living room/kitchen area. Yuuji kept his eyes on the carpet, kicking it with his socked toe while you looked between the two males expectantly. When Yuuji didn’t say anything, you elbowed him as a prompt. He looked up at Nanami for a second then back down at his feet.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled.

“For?” You said before Nanami could respond.

“For yelling at you. I was upset. I want to go to the concert with Megumi. But if it’s not safe, I’ll listen.” He spoke as if he were reciting a speech, but finally looked up at Nanami with an intense stare. “I still want to go though.”

“And?”

Yuuji lost some of his steel and looked back down. “And I don’t hate you.”

Nanami looked at you for a second, wondering what magic you had worked to get his stubborn almost-teenager to actually speak like an adult instead of yelling at him again. When you pointed and mouthed ‘All him’ behind Yuuji’s back, he took a deep breath and looked back at his son.

“I know you still want to go. But it’s not safe. Especially with you two going by yourself. If you find something else you want to go to, that’s not that band, then I’ll take you and Megumi.”

Yuuji looked like was about to start arguing again, but you cleared your throat and gave him a meaningful look when he glanced over at you. He relented with a sigh and a nod.

Now that was over with, Nanami walked around the counter and hugged Yuuji, placing a kiss on the top of his head. Yuuji hugged him back willingly before they both turned their attention back to you. “Would you like to stay for dinner?” The blond man asked.

You shook your head. “I should really go back home, I have to finish up a lot of chores I’ve been putting off.”

“Please stay.” Yuuji grabbed your arm. “I’ll help you tomorrow.”

“You have your own chores to do, Yuuji. And homework.” Nanami reminded him.

His son ignored him and held your arm tighter. “Please?”

Yuuji’s pleading won out, and after staying and having a jovial dinner of katsudon with the two men, you all sat on the couch to watch a movie of Yuuji’s choosing, one he promptly fell asleep to, his head on Nanami’s chest as he drooled on his shirt. The father looked at you, watching the screen intently as you tried to decipher who just was the killer in the murder mystery, sipping a cup of tea carefully.

You’d never know just how much he loved you. So he settled with the obvious for now.

“Thank you.” Nanami whispered over Yuuji’s head.

You turned to look at him, your brows still drawn together in confusion as if you didn’t know what he was thanking you for. When he nodded down to Yuuji’s sleeping form, you raised your eyebrows in acknowledgment and looked back to the TV screen.

“I didn’t do anything that wouldn’t have happened eventually.” You told him as you took a sip of tea. “He adores you, he wouldn’t have stayed mad for long.”

“Did he say anything?”

“I don’t want to betray his trust.” You admitted.

“Fair enough.” Nanami relented. “Would you tell me, though, if he needed anything?”

You smiled and nodded. “Always. Yuuji comes first.”

He thought he noticed a hint of sadness in your eyes at your words, but you were already up and gathering your empty dish before it registered. “Thank you for dinner. It was delicious.” You leaned down and placed a kiss on the top of Yuuji’s head, and with just the slightest hesitation, one on Nanami’s cheek. He felt his face catch fire as soon as your lips touched his skin, tingles emanating from where your lips made contact. He barely registered your own cheeks burning red as well as you started walking towards the door. “Come on, Koro.”

The woman and dog finally disappeared, leaving Nanami and Yuuji alone in their apartment. Once he carried Yuuji to bed and read a few chapters of his current book, he turned off the light and laid back staring up in the dark. No matter how hard he tried, his mind wouldn’t succumb to sleep. He kept thinking of you, not just your shared moment tonight, but every moment of the entire seven years you had known each other, memories he analyzed and went through with a fine-toothed comb each night before he fell asleep. Had he built up the glances the way you touched his hand, how you chose to spend your time with them rather than by yourself or with others? How you cared for Yuuji like her own, willing to help whenever you could? Were the feelings lying just beneath his carefully constructed surface genuine, ready to burst forth at any moment?

Were you in your bed, doing the same, thinking of him?

tags: @oikawaandkuroostan

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk fandom #nanami x y/n #nanami kento #single dad!nanami #growing pains #the oikawa to my iwaizumi #fanfiction #itadori yuuji #fushiguro megumi #gojou satoru

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tothemeadow · 4 years

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Commissioned by @tanjhero

Rengoku Kyojuro x Reader

- Being the Flame Pillar’s tsugoku is no easy task; saving his brother, however, proves to be something else entirely. -

warnings: mentions of blood, angst

words: 2.5k

Burning hearts, brilliant eyes, wishes that never come true. There’s almost something beautiful in sorrow, the slight glimpse of light in the vast darkness. To be a demon slayer, one must bury their heart. They have to hide it under lock and key, learn how to forget what crying feels like. You’ve always carried this ideology close to your heart ever since you started your training as a young adolescent.

Six years have then since passed, and the Final Selection is well behind you. Ragged scars cover your arms, chest, and back, all trophies from your brutal battles with blood-hungry beasts. Demons, to be precise; you see ragged, glinting teeth in the night, in the hours of the day when you’re finally allowed to dream. Whatever the reason, whatever the cause, these teeth seek to ravage you, to sink into your skin and rip your throat out.

The world is dark. You’ve long since grown cold, refusing to properly feel anything. To be emotional is to be distracted; if you wanted to survive, for others to survive, you cannot afford to deal with such interruptions. This is the very reason why your mentor – the gracious Flame Pillar himself, Rengoku Kyojuro – always struck you as odd. Like the sun itself, he’s full of light and eternal brightness.

You’ve never been more jealous of someone in your life.

You train by his side, let him whip you into proper shape. Being a tsugoku is no easy task; both mentally and physically draining, you’re often left scrambling for any sensation left in your numb fingertips. Although your body suffers from the constant thrum of pain, you are strong. You don’t take your strength lightly, and neither does your mentor.

As time and his persistent nature eat away at your skeptical brain cells, he’s more or less become a friend. Much to your initial displeasure, you allowed him to root himself to you. However, as you grew stronger, wiser, your heart did so as well. Kyojuro, this dear man, has cracked open the safe of your heart. With each rising sun, you envision him, his dazzling smile, his abnormal irises. It’s the first time in your life you’ve been blessed.

The days grow into something long and dark whenever you train with him. He doesn’t give up, refuses to let you to wipe away the sweat at your brow, keeps going and going until you’re a trembling mess at his feet. He’s to make a slayer of you yet.

Some days, you consider yourself lucky. Kyojuro is a soft man despite the hard cording of muscle covering his skeleton. Sometimes, his gaze melts into something akin to honey, dangerously sweet and tempting. He’ll call training off early, opting to massage your weakened muscles and guide you through breathing exercises. You don’t take these treatments lightly; after all, Kyojuro is a Pillar, a highly respected one at that. To have a pathetically weak tsugoku will only bring shame onto his namesake.

And, if he’s really in a giving mood, he’ll insist you spend the night at his residence.

Already well fed and bathed, you dismiss Kyojuro with a tight-lipped smile and a prayer for his safe return. He explained that he and his father were to travel into town and seek out the beloved liquor his father adores so much. Although his face is stoic, you can see the pain and disappointment in the depths of his eyes. Like himself, Rengoku Shinjuro is a man deserving respect – or at least used to be. Since the passing of his wife, he’s been drowning his sorrows (amongst all other emotion humanly possible) until he sees the bottom of the bottle.

You find solace in your room, wet hair unceremoniously thrown over your shoulder. Like your father and grandfather, you wear your hair long; the one true tradition that’s been passed down your bloodline for generations. Even as shorter hairstyles become widely accepted, your clan refused to do so, following the old rule of cutting hair once one was shunned. You lose yourself in thought, mindlessly combing through hair with a comb made out of bone.

It isn’t the first time you’ve stayed in the Rengoku household, but you always find yourself drawing hesitant. Kyojuro’s own room sits right down the hallway, a silent temptation that you never give into. To do so would be disrespectful to your kind mentor, even downright inappropriate. Mentor and tsugoku was a strictly former relation – nothing more. You’d be damned if you stepped out of line.

A slight knock at the door stirs your curiosity. Kyojuro and Shinjuro have yet to return from their shopping trip despite the sky being cloaked in an ominous purple. Instead, you’re greeted by Senjuro, Kyojuro’s younger brother. Like the other two – and the rest of the males in his bloodline – he sports the fire crackle hair, the robust eyes. The entire Rengoku clan has been blessed by the sun, by fire, since the beginning of time. You’re not good friends with Senjuro, by you’re way past the line of casual acquaintances.

You glance to the cheesecloth in his hands, your eyebrow raising itself in a silent question. Senjuro sends you a cheeky smile, though the edges are tinged with nervousness. It startles you just how much he resembles Kyojuro. As you beckon him to enter, you set your comb down and tell him to join you on the futon.

“Aniki and father aren’t back yet,” Senjuro tells you as he sits down. “And I figured… Well, maybe… If it was okay for us to hang out?”

You can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips. Senjuro’s always been like this, awkward yet exceptionally kind. As he unwraps the cheesecloth, you’re greeted by the sight of plump grapes and rice crackers.

“I know we already had dinner, but sometimes Aniki and I sit around with some snacks and talk about everything.” Senjuro’s smile grows at the mention of his brother; you find it extremely endearing. “And you’re always nice to me, so I thought that we could…” His sentence trails off into nothing and he worries his bottom lip.

You promptly pick a grape from the bunch and pop it into your mouth. Its sweet flavor erupts on your tongue and you hum in appreciation. “Thank you for the treat.”

The nervousness in Senjuro’s smile melts away. “I watched you and Aniki train earlier. You’re incredible,” he gushes. “It’s no wonder why you’re Aniki’s tsugoku!”

You wave off his compliment with a dismissive hand. “First you bring me food, then you flatter me; is there an ulterior motive to this?” you tease.

With a slight giggle, Senjuro shoves at your shoulder. “I just wanted to be in your company, that’s all.”

You find the gesture to be incredibly sweet. As you ponder on his words, you realize that Kyojuro must be busy all the time, attending to his work as a Pillar, and Shinjoru spends almost every waking moment getting drunk. “Look at you, being the charmer,” you throw his way. “You definitely take after your brother.”

Senjuro visibly perks up at your words. “Really? You think so?”

You chuckle at his excited response. “Yes, really. I think you’re going to grow up into a wonderful man, Senjuro-kun.”

His cheeks warm up at your praise. “I can see why Aniki likes you so much.”

The cracker you hold stops centimeters away from your mouth. You instinctively lower your hand. “What do you mean?”

Senjuro cocks his head to the side. “Oh, you mean you don’t know? Aniki’s had a crush on you for months.”

The cracker falls into your lap. “He what?”

Something snaps outside the screen door. The hairs on the back of your neck come to a sudden rise; the sharp smell of blood fills the air and your mind kicks into autopilot. Shoving Senjuro away, you quickly grab onto your blade as the door is ripped from its hinges, the sight of bright yellow eyes shining through the dark.

A demon.

“Shit,” you curse, shooting to a stand, drawing your blade from its sheath, and holding it out before you in a defensive stance.

The demon stalks into the room; its body is nothing short of massive, all flexing muscle the color of moss. His head easily brushes the ceiling as he draws himself to his full height, inky, greasy hair falling in his grotesque face. His nostrils twitch as though they’re following a scent. “Where is he?” he growls, his voice rumbling from deep within his chest. “Where is the Flame Pillar?”

Your grip on your blade tightens. While it’s fortunate that Kyojuro isn’t home, that means you’ll have to take out the demon and protect Senjuro at the same time. Maybe, just maybe, you can convince the creature to turn around and leave.

“My apologies,” you say, your voice brisk. “The one you seek isn’t here.”

The demon’s yellow eyes stare down at the blade in your hands. His lips pull back in a snarl, his razor-sharp fangs shining in the light. You sharply inhale at the sight, a slight spark of panic traveling down your spine. “Pathetic little slayer,” he hisses, “thinking you can stop me? I’ll rip your head off and drink straight from your neck.”

You shift your weight on your feet. “Senjuro, get out of here. Now.”

Behind you, Senjuro scrambles to his feet. You can hear him gulp, but you ignore the urge to turn around and see if he’s okay. “B-but what about…”

“Get your brother. I’ll take care of it, okay?”

With another drawn out growl, the demon lowers itself, ready to pounce.

“Run!”

A large flash of green fills your vision and you hastily swing your sword. The battle you engage in is fierce, intense, too quick to be seen by the naked eye. Your body twirls and evades the monstrous demon’s attacks, bouncing off the walls and slithering between his legs.

You don’t necessarily realize it as you move the fight outside, the night’s breeze carrying your hair and whipping it into your face. Biting back a curse, you jump backwards just in time for a clawed hand to slash at the space where you previously stood.

“I will kill you!” the demon roars.

“Breath of Ashes: Shimmering Coal!” you cry out. In a great, fantastic arc, your blade grows to an unbearably hot temperature as you slice through the demon’s chest.

He screams in agony at the searing pain, reeling back and clutching at his chest. His eyes scream murder as he charges you; this time, though, you aren’t so lucky. Your back makes a sickening snap noise as you’re thrown into a nearby tree. Struggling for breath, you quickly get back up, charging at the demon again.

Time is lost. A faint hint at a new moon fills the sky; the only light comes from the inside of your room, leaving you in almost complete darkness. Your movements are bold, swift, straight to the point; you slash and strike at the demon, landing devastating blows, but his neck is too thick. You curse and howl in pain as claws rip at your sides, your arms, your face; blood openly flows down your face and the rest of your body, soaking the material of your torn yukata.

You groan from your spot on the ground; the coppery taste of blood coats your tongue, the back of your throat. Struggling to sit up, your fingers claw into the grass and dirt as you fight off the wave of nausea. It can’t end like this – you can’t end like this. You refuse to give up, to die. Even if this demon spills your guts, you’ll slice off his head and take him to hell with you.

Black fills the outer rims of your vision. There’s a harsh ringing in your ears, ready to steal your hearing away from you. Death is creeping up onto your doorstep, waiting, just waiting for you to answer.

There’s a cry of your name and a swirl of flames. Kyojuro comes seemingly out of nowhere; a war cry spills from his lips as he swings his blade and brings it down on the demon’s neck. Although he’s incredibly fast, your trained eyes follow his every move. The muscles in his back flex as he slices the demon’s head clean off. The demon releases an animalistic sound, spittle flying from his mouth as his head lands nearby.

“Fuck you, Flame Pillar! I’ll see you in hell!” he screeches before his head turns into dust.

A ragged breath punches its way out of your lungs as you slump back onto the ground. Kyojuro rushes to your side, worry etched into his features. You see his mouth move, but you can barely hear the words tumbling out. He gingerly slides his arms under you and picks you up, holding you close to his chest. The rest of the world passes by in a blur as he carries you back inside, instead of stopping in your room, however, he continues all the way to his room.

“Can you hear me?” his voice filters into your mind. You nod your head and groan as he places you onto his bed. “Gods, (y/n),” he breathes, pushing the damp strands out of your face. He gulps at the sheer amount of blood coating your face. “Hang on,” he tells you.

Rising from the bed, he fetches an abundance of medical supplies and gets to work at cleaning you up. Both his eyes and movements are gentle as he wipes away the blood, revealing your exhausted face. As he removes your yukata, he averts his gaze and hastily covers your privates up before working at your exposed arms and stomach.

“To do what you did,” he starts, his voice hoarse. He sounds suspiciously close to crying. “You saved him. You saved Senjuro.” His voice shakes as his hands begin to tremble. “I can’t thank you enough.”

Flicking your eyes to him, you notice how he’s biting hard onto his lip, desperate to keep the tears at bay. You’ve never seen such a pained look on his face a day in your life. His eyes shift between the two of yours, tears welling up and clouding the surface. Your heart jumps to your throat.

“You saved my baby brother,” he spews. Tears rush down his handsome face. “You risked your life to save him. It’s just… I…” He frantically rubs at his eyes with a sleeve. “I didn’t want to lose you, too.” Despite his tears, Kyojuro manages a tiny smile. “I can’t imagine what I’d do if you died,” he confesses.

“Kyojuro-san…?” you croak.

Taking your hands in his, he swiftly brings them to his lips and presses kisses to your knuckles. “I was so scared.” He frantically shakes his head. “I couldn’t live with myself if you died.” His voice cracks at the end of his sentence. “You see… I- I love you, (y/n).”

Your breath stills in your throat. He… He loves you? Rengoku Kyojuro, a man blessed by the gods themselves, loves you.

Leaning down, he gently presses his forehead to yours. “I love you with my very being,” he mutters. “And to know that you’ve saved Senjuro… It makes me love you even more.”

Before you have time to register it, your hands link around his neck. This man was the one to melt the ice surrounding your heart; he was the one to make you feel again. You smile weakly at him. “Kyojuro-san… I… I love you, too.”

#kny #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #kny x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #demon slayer x reader #rengoku kyojuro x reader #kyojuro rengoku x reader #rengoku kyojuro #rengoku senjuro #kyojuro rengoku #senjuro kyojuro #kny kyojuro #kny senjuro #rengoku brothers #commission #tanjhero

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nillegible · 3 years

Text

(Part 4 of Stay, the MY time travel fic. Read Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 )

So much that Meng Yao has seen in his second life has been disturbingly accurate to the memories that he still has of his former life, but the brothel is different. It feels much smaller than it did to a child who grew up there. Appears more garish than he’d seen from afar, after ordering the place to be burned down. Or perhaps these decorations are so like the gilded decor Koi tower that he hadn’t noticed, back then.

Meng Yao walks inside now, for the first time since he fled after mother’s death, dressed in simple gray robes of good make, sword and tassel marking him as a cultivator. His hair is deliberately done up plainly, as different from his mother’s as he can manage it. He does not wish to be recognized here, as her son.

“Please, please stop,” someone is crying out, and a tall, well-built young man – not a cultivator though – is dragging a woman outside by the hair. As Meng Yao steps aside to make way, he recognizes her. Anxin. It’s a new way to remember her face, twisted in fear and desperation, instead of in cruel, mocking laughter.

He lets them pass, and walks into the establishment. Two young girls, maybe sixteen, direct him to a table in the main hall and prepare tea. He responds to their flirtation politely; they’re just doing their jobs, after all; and waits for the Madame to be free.

I bet Father, never had to wait, thinks Meng Yao, but it’s an idle thought. Even his mother had not wanted Meng Yao to be like him, only to gain his favour and the prestige that entailed.

For all that he’s a cultivator now, one of considerable renown even if it does not match that of a Sect Leader or heir of a major sect. He waits patiently for the madame’s attention.

The young women at his sides stiffen into perfect posture, alerting him to the imminent arrival of their boss. “How can I help the honoured young master?” the well dressed, elegant woman asks finally, coming over to sit gracefully at his table.

“This one greets Madame,” says Meng Yao simply. “I am merely here to observe, and perhaps make a purchase.” She’s so practiced that her reaction is nearly entirely subdued, only traces of her glee at finding a customer to buy one of her girls’ contract are visible. Meng Yao pretends not to notice, just smiles, serenely.

“The Young Master is seeking a wife, then? My girls are each very accomplished, and I’m sure he will find one eminently suitable to his tastes.”

Meng Yao just nods, as if disinterested. “If madame would show me the suitable candidates…” then hesitates, carefully. “I am not seeking a wife. My Uncle’s wife has taken ill, and I hoped that if I found him a suitable concubine, there would be less disharmony in my household. I am unmarried, and finding good servants is difficult enough without him scaring the help away with his ways.” He scrunches his nose in faint distaste, and watches the calculation in her eyes.

“This one understands, the Young Master will not be looking for their skills in managing a household, then. There are women to match this criterion as well. Some of my girls are great beauties and will certainly captivate any man.”

“He can find beauties on his own coin,” Meng Yao huffs. “As long as she can perform her duties, who cares what she looks like? Will Madame show me the women? I will decide when I see them.” With such crude, miserly words, Meng Yao has saved himself having to browse through most of the women here, as well as much of the haggling. The Madame would not dare to inflate her prices above that of the prostitute’s contract, for fear he’d leave and just bribe one of his female servants to quietly accept the abuse.

Sure enough, after Meng Yao is settled in a private room, the women suggested to him are significantly older than the young ones entertaining downstairs. The madame excuses herself; there’s nothing much for her to do here, but leaves two clerks to explain the costs of each contract.

Meng Yao reads through them dispassionately, even setting aside Sisi’s contract when he sees it the first time, though in the ‘look again,’ pile, not the ‘too expensive’ one. Finally, he narrows it down to three, and the women are requested to attend them, in the small parlor.

Meng Yao keeps his face averted when Sisi approaches. There’s a sharp inhale when she sees him, and he looks up to catch her eye and quickly shakes his head, asking her to not give it away. Seeming to understand, she falls into place beside her two sisters, and allows Meng Yao to… consider his options. He picks Sisi as if on a whim, and then finalizes the purchase.

“Meng Yao?” she asks, when they’re left alone, shortly after. There is paperwork to be completed, and they’re brought tea while they wait.

“Aunt Sisi,” Meng Yao says softly. “It is good to see you again.”

“I didn’t expect… do you really have an uncle in need of a concubine?”

“Jin Guangshan has three brothers,” he answers. “But as I have not acknowledged him as my father, I do not have uncles.”

“I see,” she says. That sharp gaze means, go on. Means, what do you want of me, and it is too suspicious, too disturbing to wait until they leave the brothel to explain.

“I would have bought Mother out, if I could. I dreamed of the day. But she died and… Aunt Sisi has ever been kind to her. You were her greatest comfort, in her final days.”

“Meng Shi was a good woman,” she says shortly. There’s no softness to the words.

“I remembered that Aunt Sisi was an excellent seamstress. There is a shop well known to me, in Yunmeng, and the proprietor is willing to take on a skilled helper. The money is a loan from my Sect Leader, but it will be paid back over a year from my allowance. Aunt Sisi may pay me back over a longer time, we can work out the specifics of that loan, after you’ve settled your living at the shop.”

Sisi is quiet for a long time. “There is a merchant,” she says, “Who offered to marry me.”

“The one with the jealous wife?” he asks. “Does Aunt Sisi believe her life would be peaceful, in her household?” Not that she would even get a chance to live there, but there’s no way that Aunt Sisi could know that.

She doesn’t say anything else, nor does he, while they finish their tea, and eat the snacks laid out. Unlooked for good fortune, at the whims of those more powerful than him had never made Meng Yao feel grateful. He’s not going to expect it in someone else.

“I suppose I should thank you,” she says, only after they’ve left the establishment. He’s leading her towards the docks, to rent a boat to Yunmeng. He has all of her luggage sealed away in a qiankun pouch, though her money is in a purse clutched tightly in her hands.

“Aunt Sisi does not have to,” he says. “This one did not consult you, before choosing this for you. I apologize, for that.”

“Don’t bother apologizing,” she says. “It’s just a lot, without a moment’s notice. But I am grateful.”

“You’ll like Madam Yan, the tailor,” says Meng Yao. “She’s kind.” Of course, Meng Yao can practically see her disbelief; of course the tailor was kind to Meng Yao, a paying customer! What would she be like to an underling, and one with an unpleasant background? But Meng Yao knew more of Madam Yan than just the previous day’s meeting with her, when he’d talked to her and asked her if she needed the help of a talented seamstress who needed somewhere to go. Meng Yao’s skilful enquiries and opinions on the robes that he was having commissioned definitely helped support his argument that he knew what he was talking about, and that if he said someone was skilled they must be, but Meng Yao also knew a little of Madam Yan’s history because her daughter would one day be a Jiang disciple, and Jin Ling would be fond of the Shijie with the lovely robes.

He’s certain that he’s making the right choice, to leave Sisi with her instead of at the brothel, where she’d only face injury, scarring, and heartache.

(And then turn desperate enough to be hired for the most suspect of jobs, of being used in a murder plot, and then locked away for years. Meng Yao had been careful to give her a comfortable life, but he doubts that it was any happier than the lives of the koi in his ponds. He owes her this, even if she does not know why.)

The awkward air between them doesn’t clear, even as they hire a boat to take them the half hour upstream to Yunmeng, nor while they stop at an inn for lunch. He asks her if she’d like to rent a room to freshen up in before she meets her future employer, and she agrees. Meng Yao waits downstairs after paying for the room, returning Sisi’s luggage to her.

While he waits, he wanders between the shops nearby. He doesn’t have much money to spend on frivolities, he’s carefully planned out his finances for the next year to allow him to repay the borrowed sum as soon as possible, but browsing has always been fun. His eyes catch on a hat, scholarly, a bit shorter than Meng Yao’s own preference, and he stares for a moment.

So much ribbing in his previous life, for his height, for his name, for how he was more of an administrator than a son to Jin Guangshan, even during all those years where he was the only acknowledged heir. ‘I’m doing it all for you, Mother,’ he’d told himself, through all of it. Setting his signature hat on his head every morning, like a piece of armor. That everything he did was for his mother… and yet he’d killed so many people in her name.

People like her.

Meng Yao remembers the burning fury of hating being called a whore’s son, of people washing their hands when they touched him, like he was tainted, like the filth was on him instead of their sick, twisted minds. Of being refused a chance to carry his own nephew, shooed away and made to stand apart from the golden heir of Lanling.

My mother is not like those whores, he’d thought to himself, she’s nothing like those filth, and never regretted or repented for his choices until he saw Sisi’s scarred, terrified face among the women he’d ordered to be killed.

The frightened, sobbing women who had been used to kill his own father.

Meng Yao thinks of Anxin’s terrified face as she was dragged out of the brothel this morning. He has no idea what it was about. He doesn’t think it matters. Perhaps they truly would all be better off dying in a cleansing fire than living their sad miserable lives, as he’d reasoned to himself before. That they were deserving of such a death, for how they treated Meng Shi.

All of that… any of that, was easier than the truth.

My mother was a prostitute, and I was ashamed.

Nothing, no temple, no prayers, no statues of guanyin with his mother’s face could ever erase his crimes.

“Meng Yao?” asks a hesitant voice, and he turns around to smile at Sisi. She’s wearing the same subdued outfit she’d worn to leave the brothel, but she’s washed away the sweat from travelling over water on a hot day, and her hair has been redone. She looks like any other woman in the marketplace, though the loveliness of her face is still admirable.

“The shop is not far,” he tells her. “Shall we go?”

[Read part 5 here!]

#meng yao #jgy time travel verse #sisi #meng yao thinking about his mistakes #and growing

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brattyfics · 4 years

Text

“I don’t love you anymore” | Part 2

Summary: After making it clear that he does not believe in divorce, Miguel’s wife is forced to take matters into her own hands. The previous installment can be found here. I used the following prompt lines: “How long are you going to keep this up?’ “Yeah, I remember the drill.” “Do you even know what you’ve done to me?” | Part Three |

Pairing: Miguel Galindo x Reader

Warnings: Angst, Dark-ish Miguel, domestic violence/abuse.

Word Count: 2.4K

A/N: First of all, thank you to @my-little-wolfe for bouncing ideas back and forth with me, and convincing me to resolve this. A lot of you wanted the reader to have redemption. This is my idea of that. It’s not what many of you would have predicted, but it’s the most realistic version of events I saw happening. I’d love hear what you all think about how things shook out, let me know :)

In the backseat of a sleek, black Mercedes s550, you sat on cushy leather seats. Clay red passed by in a blur through the tinted windows. The desert reminded you of how you felt inside; desolate. Spotty patches of green freckled the dry dirt, small but persistent life signs despite the harsh conditions.

Nestor sat in front of you, eyes glued to the road ahead with the driver to his left. Next to you in the backseat sat your husband, Miguel. None of you dared to speak, save for Miguel asking for the ETA. Everyone knew a few simple words had the potential to spark a flame between the two of you. Almost a month had passed since your marriage had been irreparably damaged. You confronted Miguel about his infidelity. He made his position on divorce clear. You were no longer under any delusions of a happy or at the very least amicable ending.

Security around the house had doubled. Multiple guards were with you at almost all times, inside or outside of the house. The only time you got a semblance of privacy was when you locked yourself in one of the guest bedrooms. He always sent someone to return you to your shared bedroom at night, but you were grateful for any time away from him. You spent dark, lonely nights on opposite sides of your California King Bed. The distance between you was not only physical. Besides a simple 'yes' or 'no' when necessary, you didn't speak to Miguel. He had you temporarily trapped physically, that much was obvious, but you refused to let him have the satisfaction of capturing your spirit.

The only reason you sat next to him in the confined space was Santo Padre's annual charity event. Miguel was obligated to attend, and by extension, so were you. Like the good little wife you had been groomed to become, you dressed and accessorized to impress. You wore a designer cocktail dress, large diamond stud earrings, and a full face of makeup. All of it was to distract people from the real picture. Your reflection reminded you of how things used to be. The bells and whistles were expected of Mrs. Galindo. What you couldn't dress up were your eyes. Gone were the twinkles that once shone bright. They had been replaced by marble--hard and pretty but ornamental.

"How long are you going to keep this up?" You kept your eyes trained on the desert as your husband spoke. He should've already learned to respect you weren't talking to him. Out of your periphery, you saw Miguel make quick work of his sunglasses, stashing them in the case. "You're going to have to talk to me sometime." He used the same condescending tone that made you want to throw things at his head. Your fingernails dug into your palm as you resisted the urge to spew venom. Stop talking to me, asshole.

It was Miguel who struck first, strong fingers gripping your chin tightly. You jerked back at the invasion of personal space, swatting at his hand as if it were a pesky fly. He took your fiery reaction as a challenge, snatching you forward by your neck. You clawed at his hand, but his grip remained firm. Nestor eyed the two of you in the rearview mirror. He knew better than anyone how vicious Miguel could be when provoked. The driver's gaze didn't stray once from the road. They were trained to protect Miguel and if things got ugly, even Nestor would not step in to protect you.

"I know the drill…" His grip loosened when your eyes met. "Don't worry. I won't embarrass you in front of your colleagues, Mr. Galindo." Your shared last name was said with a sneer. Miguel didn't appreciate the sass, but he finally let you go, recoiling back into the seat. He shrugged his shoulders, adjusting his suit jacket while you rubbed your throat. You had been wheezing moments earlier, and his first priority was to preen.

If looks could kill, Miguel Galindo would be six feet under.

"Do you even know what you've done to me?" You growled out. The accusatory tone had both men in the front seat on edge. With bated breath, Nestor watched Miguel casually pick up his phone. The cartel boss tapped at the touch screen as if you didn't even exist.

It all happened in a blur.

Your hands clenched into fists, and then they were flying, raining down blows everywhere. The car jerked, then swerved, and eventually pulled over. Angry red patches littered Miguel's skin where your fists made contact. At one point, he had you pinned down in the seat. The entire thing was like an out of body experience. As much as you wanted to stop, you couldn't control yourself. He was whisked off to another car by one of the guards, leaving behind a trail of buttons and blood on the nude interior. Nestor claimed the driver's seat, riding you around in circles while waiting for you to calm down. You were hysterical, batting the bulletproof glass repeatedly and yanking wildly on the childproof looks. It took hours. In the end, your knuckles were bloody and bruised, throat raw from yelling.

For the first time since you got married, you slept alone.

Several days passed without Miguel returning home. You didn't care if he was across the border or down the street at his mistresses' house. He could take an extended vacation to hell for all you cared. All you cared about was using the time alone to your advantage.

Miguel had carefully selected four guards to stay behind and watch over you. You didn't know any of them well, and that was on purpose. Since your first falling out, Miguel had gotten paranoid about you escaping. Anyone he thought had a soft spot for you was banned from the house. What Miguel didn't consider was that you could run circles around the new guys. You ran the household as normal, keeping them busy with errands and the occasional household chore. You were sure no one suspected anything. Plus, it allowed you the time and privacy you needed to execute your plan.

You received a call an hour earlier that let you know the plan could proceed as planned. Miguel could be home at any moment, and you had no more time to waste. Your purse was packed to the brim with essentials-- travel-sized toiletries, underwear, and wads of cash. You couldn't even fit a change of clothes, but you would have to make due.

With one last glance around what had been your shared bedroom, you made peace with never seeing it or him again.

"I need you to take me to the mall." You instructed one of the guards as you made the trek down the stairs.

"Mrs. Galindo, I don't think—-" You paused at the bottom of the steps, cutting your eyes at him. The guard, Rick, was unsure of which order to follow. Miguel didn't want you out without pre-approval, but you were the one in front of him saying differently.

"I wasn't asking." He didn't look convinced, looking over his shoulder nervously for back up from one of the other guards. "I have necessities to pick up. Do you want to be the one to explain why I don't have what I need to my husband?"

"Mr. Galindo said—"

"I say." Your hands found your hips, preparing to dig in for an argument. Anxious energy bubbled up in your belly as another guard, Brian, approached. You could tell by the look on his face his answer would be no, so you spoke before he could. "I didn't want to get into details, but since you're determined to embarrass me, I'll just say it…" You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms for good measure, looking every bit the part of a spoiled brat. "I'm tired of fighting with my husband, okay? I want to pick up a gift for when he comes home, and I need it to be nice."

That did the trick. They all knew very well what gift was code for. What could a woman possibly get for a man that already had everything? Lingerie.

Rick and Brian quickly discussed it with the others, and soon enough, you were in the car. The other two stayed behind to keep watch of the house, a decision they'd all regret soon enough. You spent the entirety of the car ride reviewing your plan from start to end, step by step. Any potential roadblocks that popped up, you had a tentative solution for.

Your heart beat intensely in your chest as the large building came into view. Each step brought you closer to your new life, to freedom. Slowing outside the store, you turned to face your guards with a sweet smile. "Do you really have to follow me everywhere?" Nods in the affirmative were your only response. You made a face.

"We'll wait for you inside, ma'am. You'll be able to shop privately." Brian gestured for you to step inside. You expected as much so it didn't bother you.

"Thank you."

A saleswoman greeted you as soon as she saw you, her face lighting up like a Christmas tree. Like everyone else, she knew who your husband was and that your presence could mean a big commission. You declined politely, eyes scanning the store for the woman you had come to see.

Ariana turned the corner at the perfect time, appearing as a beacon of light. She had been one of your best friends growing up, but over time you grew apart. She had her hand in the pot of illegal activities in and around Santo Padre, with Miguel's oversight, of course. You would never have thought the shoplifting pre-teen she had once been would climb the underworld ranks to be in a position to save your life.

Tears welled in your eyes as you hugged. "It's okay." She whispered in your ear, patting your back gently. "Smile." She instructed before pulling away.

You shopped the store as if nothing was amiss, picking out different merchandise. Eventually, you separated, Ari sneaking off to the dressing rooms while you approached your guards. Your breath quickened at the scowl on Brian's face.

"All the stress eating has finally caught up to me." You laughed, but he remained stone-faced. "I need to be measured." You gestured over your shoulder to the dressing room. "It'll only take a few minutes." You did your best not to overthink each step you took, feeling his intense glare on your back.

Once out of his eyesight, you bypassed the dressing rooms, choosing to step inside the door marked 'Employees Only.' Ariana waited for you there, shoving a full backpack into your arms.

"Everything you will need is in there: a new ID and a passport. I even got a hold to a social security number for you. Memorize the information on your paperwork. You don't want to get caught up over something stupid."

You trembled as you processed the information, trying your hardest to breathe in and out deeply.

"Here's a set of keys. The silver Camry is parked directly across from the stairway on level three. The car's clean, registered with insurance and everything so you don't have to worry about being stopped. It has a full tank, and that should last you 600 miles if you're even going that far..." You adjusted the backpack on your back, squeezing the handles of your handbag extra tight. "...There's a cooler with a couple of waters and sandwiches so you won't have to stop." The large handbag hit the floor with a thud. You clasped her hands in your own to stop her rambling.

"Thank you." She swallowed hard, and this time tears welled up in her eyes. "Don't worry, okay? No matter what happens, you did everything you could for me. I'll never be able to repay or thank you enough. I know you're risking a lot..." She shook her head, silencing you.

"You're worth it. Just do me a favor: live a happy life and never come back."

With one last hug, you were off, gaining a head start in the race against El Diablo.

You knew Miguel inside and out--how he would react to the news, and how he would respond. The Galindo Cartel had eyes and ears everywhere. Gas stations, airports, train stations, bus stations were all danger zones. All it would take is a single phone call for you to be caught. He would send men out to scour the city, figuring you couldn't have gotten far. While they wasted their time above ground, you'd be on the move underground.

Miguel would never expect you to use his tunnels to escape. When you had gotten married, he handed over a packet of papers. Among them were resources, numbers you could call, people you could trust if something ever happened to him, and you needed to get out. Also, among the papers were maps of the tunnels. They were hard to make sense of at first, but you studied them relentlessly. One wrong turn could spell disaster, send you in the wrong direction and right back into his arms but you had faith in your abilities.

Besides human error, there was the issue of danger in the tunnels. People associated with him (and some not) used the tunnels to have meetings between shadowy figures or cross between California and Mexico. Smugglers used them to transport El Diablo's heroin. You could run into someone who knew you or worse someone who didn't. Without your husband's protection, you were just a lone woman making a long, perilous journey. It was entirely possible you'd meet your demise, and it'd have nothing to do with Miguel.

There was a very slim chance you'd make it out alive. If you were lucky, you'd eventually make it to the great state of Louisiana. You had friends there that would take you by boat to Mississippi. From there, you’d drive another car down to Florida. If you made it that far, you'd take the risk of getting on a plane. You’d fly to Europe where it would be easier for you to travel between countries.

No matter where your journey ended, it would be well worth it. You wouldn’t live under Miguel's thumb any longer.

GENERAL TAGLIST

@WOAHITSLUCYYLU @BRIANNAB1234 @SHEESHGIVEMEABREAK @BREAKINGNEWSIN-NO-ONEASKED @ANGELREYESGIRL @BLESSEDBOO @GLIMMERGLITTERGIRL @APANTHERINMYPASTLIFE @BROWNSUGARCOFFY @MARVELMAREE @STARRYNITE7114 @SCUZMUNKIE

MIGUEL TAGLIST

@thesandbeneathmytoes

PART TWO REQUESTS

@blacvenus @myakai13 @losolvidad0s @my-little-wolfe @karensraisns @krysiewithak @langiinspirations @veryfastspeedz @stitchesbystults @itskiranbitch @fanficfavesofthephoenixfangirl @thisobssessionofmine

#mayans mc #miguel galindo #miguel galindo x reader #miguel galindo x black!reader

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writer1 · 3 years

Text

A regretful Wolf and his Beauty

Chapter Twelve

Beast!Rex x Fem!reader

Summary: As punishment for his actions, young prince Rex was cursed to become a monster by a witch. The only thing that saved him from his fate was an enchantress, who gave him a condition. He has to find true love in order to redeem himself and he only has until the last petal of the enchanted rose falls. Rex's family helps you by guiding your way into his heart. Rex's fate now lies in your hands.

Warnings: mental and physical child abuse, injury, blood, dislocation, trauma, feelings are hurt, anxiety, emotional and physical pain, fear, shouting, blame, guilt, manipulation, lies, neglect, mistreatment, mention of death.

A/N: This is a collaborative fic with @ahsokatano-thetogruta.

Stutter would be sticking his tongue out in concentration, if he could that is. The sixteen year old is painting a picture of a stunning sunset at the moment. Jesse is watching him as Kix watches sixteen year old Sabine paint a picture of an explosion.

The two have always loved to paint, it’s the reason the two were turned into paintbrushes. Stutter especially loves it, it started as a way for him to bond with Rex and his brother’s. Rex had gotten him into painting when he first arrived at the castle, and it grew from there. Stutter’s family didn’t treat him right, they hated his stutter. His mother died a few days after he was born, his father would beat him when he got angry, but never laid a hand on his brothers.

His brothers would push him around and make fun of his stutter, they told him that he was nothing, and that no one would ever love him. No one outside the household knew what was really going on, his father made sure to never hit him where it was visible.

Rex and his brothers always came for visits to their uncle’s, they loved their cousin’s. But they had noticed something off, Stutter always seemed afraid of his father and brothers. He seemed to hide away from everyone a lot, no one realized what was going on until Stutter was three.

It was one of their few visits that they finally figured it out, and none of them will ever forget it.

Thirteen years ago

Stutter's oldest brother, Adam, has just turned twelve years old. Rex, Cody, Fives, Echo and Bly have gone to their Uncle's to celebrate their cousin's birthday. The extravagantly decorated cake sits on the table, along with lots of presents that he has had from his family and other relatives, though most of them are from his Father because he spoils his sons, except for one.

“Where is Stutter?” Everyone is sitting in the lounge as they partake in the activities that Adam has chosen. Adam rolls his eyes. “Why? Does it matter where that Shrimp is?” His half hearted answer makes Rex's blood boil, but he keeps calm and level headed as Cody places a hand on his shoulder, sensing his Rex'ika's anger.

How dare he call him that horrible name, they always call Stutter that, and he hates it. Rex stands up “I need to go to the refresher.” No one but his own brothers acknowledge him. Rex walks upstairs, looking through the few rooms that are on the upstairs floor. He comes to a door and tries to open it. It's locked. Rex worries a little as he hears a quiet sobbing sound. “Stutter? Are you in there? It's Rex.”

“R-Rex?” the three year old boy sniffles as he frantically wipes away the tears from his face, not wanting Rex to see that he was crying. “May I come in?” There's a long pause before he hears the click of the lock. The door slowly opens, revealing Stutter's sweet, little face peering through the gap.

He steps away from the door to allow Rex in. “Are you alright, Stutter? Do you not want to join us for your brother's birthday party?” The question almost makes Stutter cry again. He doesn't want to think of Adam as his brother, not after what they do to him. Stutter just shakes his head. “N-No, I-I-I'm not f-feeling well.” His shoulders droop a little as he holds one arm nervously.

Rex can tell that something is wrong. “Have you been crying?” Stutter shakes his head abruptly. “It's okay, Stutter. You can tell me anything, you know that right?” He goes to walk closer to the three year old to give him a hug, but Stutter jolts away. Rex shows a concerned expression, seeing Stutter give an apologetic look. “What's wrong?-” that's when he sees it.

There's something dark at the collar of Stutter's oversized shirt. It looks like he buttoned his shirt up the best he could to hide whatever it is underneath. “What is that? Could you unbutton your shirt slightly for me please?” Rex asks kindly, but the young boy freezes and doesn't say anything, so Rex approaches him slowly so as not to startle him, crouches down, then gently starts to unbutton the shirt. Four buttons later, he can see it fully now. A black and purple bruise is apparent at the base of his neck and just above his chest.

The shock and fear in Rex's eyes makes Stutter feel nervous, scared that his Father will find out that someone knows about his bruise. Stutter was threatened that if someone else found out about his bruises, then he'd get another one. “What…how did you get this?” The worry in Rex only increases as Stutter trembles and tears fill his eyes. Rex pulls him into a hug, trying to make the small boy feel safe as he cries into his chest. “Shh, it's alright. I'm here for you.”

Once he had calmed down, Stutter sniffles as he pulls away from Rex, his nose slightly snotty, eyes red and sore from crying so much in one day. “I...F-Father s-s-said t-t-that I d-deserved i-i-it.” Rex feels anger. “No, this is not what you deserve Stutter. Why would you think that, what did he tell you?”

Stutter tears up more, choking up on a sob. “Father a-a-and b-brother’s said that I-I k-k-killed mother, t-they s-s-said that I-I-I’m b-bad. My b-brothers also s-said that I-I’m not g-good e-e-enough to be t-their b-brother.” Rex feels anger flow through him, who in their right mind would tell a child that they killed their mom. That’s disgusting!

“It was not your fault Stutter, they are lying to you! Your mom was sick, it was no one’s fault. Now, we need to talk to Cody.” Stutter trembles in fear, tears spilling from his eyes, Rex wraps his arms around him. He picks the three year old up, carrying him out of the room and carefully downstairs. Rex carries Stutter straight to the lounge, rubbing the sobbing child’s back gently.

Rex walks in, he sees that his Uncle has joined everyone in the room. “Cody!” Cody jumps up as soon as Rex calls, running over to the two. Stutter’s father jumps up as well, Rex sets Stutter down, and Cody sees the bruise right away.

“What the hell happened?” Cody asks, wiping Stutters tears away gently and taking a closer look at the bruise. Rex turns, glaring at his uncle. “Ask him.” Rex tells him with disgust, staring straight at Stutter’s father. Cody’s brow furrows in confusion, and he turns to his Uncle. “What is Rex talking about, Uncle?”

His Uncle shakes his head, giving Cody a comforting smile. “I have no idea, Stutter must have fallen, come here son.” Stutter’s father goes to walk over to Stutter, who cowers in fear, grabbing onto Rex for dear life. Rex scowls at him “If he fell, then why did he lock himself in his room and not come to us straight away?” Stutter's Father glares at Rex, in warning, as he continues to walk closer.

Cody’s eyes narrow. “Stay back.” He tells his Uncle firmly, then he turns to Stutter. “Stutter, you need to tell me the truth. Did your father do this to you?”

Stutter whimpers, nodding. Cody feels anger coarse through him. “Stutter also told me that his father said that he deserved it, Cody. And both our Uncle and our cousins told Stutter that he killed his mother!”

“They told him WHAT!!?” Cody turns to his Uncle who has started storming over. “I said nothing of the sort, the brat’s lying.” He pushes Cody out of the way, grabbing Stutter roughly by his left arm and yanking him away from Rex, so hard that a loud snap-like popping noise sounds around the room. Stutter screams and cries out in pain, making everyone, but his father and brothers, gasp. Cody jumps right into action. He grabs his uncle's arm and gently pry’s Stutter’s hand from his grip, the little boy runs straight into Rex’s arms while clutching his left arm from the pain, being unable to move it whatsoever.

Rex hugs him close, wrapping his arms tightly around Stutter. “It’s okay now, I’ve got you, he can’t hurt you anymore, I promise.”

Cody does his best to keep as much distance between his Uncle and Stutter “You're such a little brat, Shrimp! Get out, NOW! You're not staying here anymore, I've had enough of your stupid behavior!” His Father shouts at him, making Stutter scream out, just wanting to never hear his voice again, wanting to be free of the agonizing pain he's been in for so long, mentally and physically. Cody shoves his Uncle back. “ENOUGH! You have no right to call him that!” Cody turns to Rex. “Rex, get Stutter out of here, now.”

Rex doesn't waste another moment. He turns on his heels as quick as he can and bolts down the hallway and out of the front door. He can hear footsteps following behind him, also running at a fast pace. Without stopping to see who it is, Rex just holds Stutter close with a hand cupping the back of his head. Stutter looks behind Rex to see his three older brothers chasing both of them. The three of them had picked up some rocks along the way to throw at their brother and cousin.

Rex took all of the hits on his back, making sure that none hit Stutter. A few painful hits later, the rocks had stopped being thrown at them. Rex stops to see Fives, Echo and Bly tackling them to the ground, holding them down. “Rex, just keep running! We've got them pinned!” Bly shouts over to him, holding down the oldest of the brothers, making Rex start to run again, comforting Stutter by giving him words of reassurance that everything will be alright now.

Back at the house, right after Rex had run outside with Stutter, his three cousins and brothers running too, Stutter's Father just stands completely still, not too far away from Cody. The sixteen year old turns to leave him be, but the low, dark voice sends a shiver down his spine. “Where do you think you're going?” Cody feels fear and confusion at the same time. “I'm going back home now. I don't want to stay here any longer-”

“You took him away from me! It's All Your Fault! If you and your kriffing brother hadn't got in the way, then that Shrimp would have still been mine!” The venom in his voice angers Cody, making him turn around again. “I told you not to call him that!!” Cody runs towards him, swinging his fist at his Uncle. Cody wishes Obi Wan was here.

His boyfriend is brilliant when it comes to hand to hand combat. Cody on the other hand, he's too slow, allowing his Uncle to dodge his attack. A fearful gasp escapes Cody as he feels a hand yank him backwards, then a burning sensation around his neck as his Uncle wraps a hand around his throat, lifting him off of the ground. Cody claws at the hand, desperately gasping for air, some fearful tears spilling from his eyes. “S--t-op. P-Ple--ase.” Cody chokes out, wanting to be let go of and put down.

Instead, his Uncle tenses his expression and widens his eyes as he throws the sixteen years old boy across the room. Cody's life flashes before his eyes as he heads straight for a small coffee table. There's no way of stopping in mid air now. He wishes that Obi Wan was here to save him, just wanting to be held by him, wanting to--

Cody makes harsh contact with the edge of the oddly shaped table, cutting and splitting the left side of his face from his temple to his cheek, around his eye. He lands on the floor with a painful thump, letting out an agonizingly pained scream that echoes throughout the room. He clutches his face, tears flooding out of his eyes now. Cody sees red flow in front of his left eye, making it sting, a lot. Moving his hand away from his face, he sees, using his right eye, that his hand is covered in blood. Lots of it.

His Uncle walks forward, towering over him. “Get out…NOW! I SWEAR THAT I WON'T GIVE YOU ANOTHER CHANCE, BOY!” Not a moment later, Cody scrambles to his feet, hand clutching his face again as he runs as fast as he can out of the house. He sees Rex running in the distance as the three of his cousins push past Cody and back into the house, slamming the door shut behind them and locking it immediately.

“Cody!” Fives, Echo and Bly call out to him, rushing over, only to see the blood seeping through his fingers. “What happened?” Fourteen year old Bly asks in complete worry for his Ori'Vod. Cody doesn't respond, he just wobbles on his feet as his vision becomes blurry. “Woah, hey. It's okay, we've got you, Ori'Vod.” The three of them support Cody as they make their way back to the castle.

Rex and Stutter finally arrive at the castle, pushing through the gate and running up the stairs and into the main hall. At the moment the only people in the hall are Obi Wan, Knight Plo, 99 and the bad batch. They all look confused when they see him breathing heavily, with young Stutter clutched in his arms.

“Rex? What happened? Why do you have Stutter here?” 99 asks, and Rex carries Stutter over. “Uncle has been abusing Stutter, so we took him.” Rex sets Stutter down, and everyone gasps when they see the large bruise. 99 hobbles over, kneeling to take a closer look.

“Did your dad really do this, Stutter?” Stutter nods, tears still drip down his face. “His father and our cousins also told him that he is the reason that his mother died, I also don’t think this was the first time that this has occurred either. Remember the times we offered to help with Stutter, but Uncle wouldn’t allow us to change his diaper or clothes?” 99 nods while Plo leaves the room for a minute, when he comes back he has Kix with him. His cousin is training to be a doctor, he’s almost done so he’s certified enough to check Stutter over.

Kix Starts checking him over when Cody, Fives, Echo and Bly all walk in, everyone gasps when they see Cody bleeding profusely from a wound on the corner of his forehead. Obi Wan goes running, so does Kix. Rex’s eyes widen. “Cody, what happened?!”

“It- It was Uncle! He attacked me.” Cody stumbles, and Obi Wan has to grab him so that he doesn’t hit the ground. Rex hears another gasp, he turns to see 99 and his uncle Plo with Stutter. They have taken his shirt off so that everyone can see the bruises littering the young boy's body, some are yellowing, telling everyone that they’re older and some are bright purple.

Kix looks angry when he sees them, but he continues patching up Cody first as Rex, Plo and 99 take care of Stutter. Everyone is angry over what happened. Wrecker hugs Stutter close, him and his brothers know what it’s like to be unloved by their parents. “It’s okay Stutter, you’re going to be safe here.” Wrecker whispers quietly, nuzzling the top of the three year old's head.

“Uncle Plo, do you think that you can gather a group of knights and go to arrest my uncle?” Plo nods. “Of course, I would be happy to.” with that Plo leaves the room, and Kix finishes up with Cody, who’s already looking a little better. A bandage has been wrapped around the left side of his face and over his eye, leaving him to only see out of his right eye. Obi Wan gives Cody a sweet kiss on his right cheek.

Kix leaves Cody with Obi Wan, walking over to check Stutter over. “Can you check his left arm, Kix? His father grabbed and yanked it pretty hard. Then there was a sort of snap-like popping noise.” Rex asks, and Kix nods. “Can you move Wrecker? I know that you want to comfort him, but I need to check him over.” Wrecker nods, moving to stand beside his brother’s. All four of the boys look angry, they’ve visited Stutter before in the year they’ve lived with 99 and absolutely love their little cousin. They can’t believe that they’ve never noticed anything wrong.

Kix checks Stutter’s arm, he gasps, then sobs when Kix presses on his shoulder. “It’s not broken, It is dislocated. Obi Wan, can you come over and hold him still, I’m going to have to pop it back in.” Obi Wan nods and walks over, not wanting to leave Cody, but making sure that Stutter holds still while popping his shoulder back into place is important. He grimaces. He knows that this is going to hurt him. “Boys, why don’t you leave the room, I’ll call you when they’re done.” 99 tells the bad batch. The boys nod, leaving the room.

“Bly, please take Rex, Fives and Echo out.” Rex shakes his head. “I’m not leaving him.” Cody sighs. “Rex’ika-” “No! I’m not leaving him. Not after what he's been through.” Rex stresses, standing his ground. Cody turns to Bly. “Take the other two out, Rex can stay.” Bly nods while he takes the twins out of the room, Rex walks over to Stutter.

“You can hold my hand if you like.” Rex offers out his hand, making Stutter feel nervous. “I...I-I've n-n-never held a-anyone's hand b-before.” Rex, Cody and Obi Wan all look at eachother, sharing a sympathetic look for the three year old.

Rex smiles sadly. “It's alright, you can hold my hand whenever you'd like to.” Stutter reaches out his hand, touching Rex's palm but instantly flinches away. Rex smiles comfortingly “It's alright, you're safe now.” The final bit of encouragement makes Stutter cautiously but comfortably take his hand. The feeling is nice and comforting, way more pleasant than being hit or beaten. The soft feel of Rex's skin feels nice, making Stutter let out a small sigh of relief, feeling safer.

Obi Wan holds onto Stutter as Kix gently grips his arm. “Okay, I'm going to count to three. One. Two-” on two Kix quickly pops his arm back into place, making the three year old scream, then start crying. “Shh, shh. We’re done Stutter, it’s okay.” Kix comforts him quietly, he hates seeing kids in any kind of pain. Rex gently hugs Stutter close to his chest while Obi Wan pets his hair. Kix starts putting a cast on Stutter’s arm since he thankfully brought everything with him in his bag. Once he finishes and It’s dry Kix places it in a sling.

“There, all done. Why don’t you go show him around the castle Rex?” Rex nods. “C'mon, Stutter. Let's give you a tour.” Before he starts to walk, he feels a small hand hold his right hand, seeing that Stutter still looks nervous, but he's seeming a little braver already.

Rex takes Stutter around most of the castle, showing him the most interesting places like the library, drawing room, conservatory, all those kinds of places. When they reached the kitchen, the lovely aroma of food made Stutter's stomach growl. “Are you hungry?” Stutter shakes his head. “I-I-I'm f-fine. I'm n-n-not hungry.” His stomach growls again, more violently.

“You are allowed to eat something whenever you'd like. My cousin Gregor can make you something if you'd like?” Rex offers the boy with a smile, and the boy nods his head. “What would you like?”

“I-I'll have w-whatever I-I-I'm given, I promise I w-will eat it e-e-even i-i-if I d-don't l-like it.” Stutter's reply was quick, making Rex frown a little. “If you don't like something, I promise that we won't force you to eat it.” Rex squeezes Stutter's hand reassuringly.

“O-Okay, t-t-thank y-you.” Stutter smiles for the first time, filling Rex's heart with happiness. “You're welcome, though may I suggest the waffles and strawberries? They are very tasty and I live having them for breakfast.” Stutter nods, making him a little excited for it just by the name of it. He was never told the names of food he was given, all he knew was that it tasted horrible.

About ten minutes later, Stutter sat down at the table, enjoying his waffles and strawberries. It's the best thing that he has eaten in his entire life. A few tears of happiness spill out of his eyes and roll down his cheeks as he munches away. Rex smiles as he watches Stutter finish the rest of his food, letting him know that he's full now.

They carry on the tour for a bit, when suddenly Stutter yawns. “S-Sorry.”

“There's no need to apologise, Stutter. Would you like a nap?” the three year old hesitates before he yawns again, nodding his head as he rubs his eye sleepily. “Here, would you like me to carry you?”

“Y-Yes p-p-please.” Stutter lifts his arms up a little as Rex picks him up, allowing Stutter to wrap his little body around him.

Rex carries Stutter to the West wing to have a nap on his bed. Setting the sleepy three year old down gently into the bed and readjusting the pillow beneath his head, Stutter speaks again “R-Rex?”

“Yes, Stutter?” Stutter has a nervous look again. “I-If it's not a-a-a p-problem, c-could you s-s-stay w-with me?”

“Of course I can, would you like me to lie next to you?” Rex smiles as he sits on the edge of the bed, seeing Stutter nod. Rex swings his legs onto the bed, wrapping his arms carefully around Stutter.

xxx

Stutter wakes up with a quiet gasp, he had a nightmare again. Stutter takes in his surroundings, seeing Rex and remembering where he was. That’s when he felt the wetness underneath him, he looks down and sees the wet spot on his pants and the bed surrounding it. Fear strikes him, his dad would beat him for wetting his bed, and he knows that he’s going to get a beating from one of the adults for wetting Rex’s bed.

Stutter gets up, panicking. He doesn’t want a beating, he’s breathing rapidly and he feels so much fear. Stutter ends up throwing up all over the floor, waking Rex. Rex jumps up out of bed and rushes over to Stutter, rubbing his back soothingly “I-I'm s-s-sorry, R-Re-” the young boy continues to throw up, choking on his vomit a little as tears prick in the corners of his eyes. “Shh, it's alright. Just let it out.”

Stutter spluttered out the last drops of vomit, shivering a little. Rex frowns “Here, come to the refresher with me.”

“B-But t-the mess and t-the wet b-b-bed, I'll g-get told o-o-off if I d-d-don't c-clean it u-up.” “Nevermind that, it's alright. You're not in trouble. These things happen sometimes, but it's okay. I promise.” Stutter feels confusion as Rex helps him to the refresher. All Stutter had ever been told that if he makes a mess, he'll get in big trouble that ends up with him being beaten.

“Alright, let's get you cleaned up shall we?” Rex smiles at the three year old, still looking terrified. “Here, let me wipe off as much as I can and then you can have a bath if you'd like one?”

Stutter nods as Rex uses a towel to wipe up as much of the vomit as he can. Rex starts the bath up, squeezing some soap into it, and soon Stutter sees the steam and fluffy bubbles coming from the bath “W-Who's t-that for?” Rex looks over to what Stutter is pointing to, seeing that it's the bath he is asking about. “It's for you, why?”

“I-I was o-o-only allowed t-to h-have c-c-cold water b-baths.”

“Wait, you haven't had a hot bath before?” Rex sounds surprised, Stutter shakes his head nervously. “N-no, sorry.”

“There's no need to apologise Stutter, it wasn't your fault, I just…Here, wait here, I'll be back in a few minutes. I'll be back soon.” Rex smiles as he leaves the refresher, leaving Stutter just staring at the bath, mesmerised by the steam coming up and off of the bath water. He's fascinated by it. A few moments later, Rex arrives back with some clean clothes.

“Here these might be slightly big for you, but they should be okay. They are some of Tech's clothes, he's only two years older than you so they might be a bit big, but not overly.” Rex places the top, trouser and jumper on the sink. Because Stutter was shivering, he thought that the jumper after the bath would keep the three year old warm. Rex walks over to the bath and switches it off, just before it rises halfway. He checks the water temperature. “Perfect. It's ready for you, if you undress and hand me your clothes I'll put them in the laundry basket and have them washed right away for you.” Stutter nods as he strips himself off.

The clothes are passed to Rex, who takes them into his room before going back to help Stutter into the bath. “You ready? I'll help you in.” Stutter puts his arms in the air some before Rex gently lifts him up and places him gently into the warm water, making sure to keep his left arm out as too keep the cast dry. Stutter gasps in surprise, he's never felt anything like this before. He hums happily as he leans back in the water. “T-This i-i-is nice, t-t-thank y-you.” Stutter closes his eyes, enjoying the warm water swirling around him as he shuffles. He then plays with the bubbles a little, scooping some up in his hand and blowing it off.

The giggle makes Rex happy that the bath is helping. “Would you like me to wash your hair for you?”

“Y-Y-Yes p-please.” Stutter feels comfortable with the touch of Rex's hands, but always being beaten, being touched is a very scary thing for Stutter, afraid that someone will want to hurt him again.

Rex gently rubs the shampoo into Stutter's hair, who enjoys the feeling of having someone wash his hair for him, instead of struggling himself. He'd always cry at the stinging sensation when the soap got in his eyes, but Rex is being careful not to get a single drop in them.

Rex then grabs a cup off the counter. “Close your eyes.” Stutter does as Rex told him, Rex cups a hand in front of Stutter’s eyes, gently pouring the water. The little boy hums at the nice feeling of the water flowing through his hair and down his back. “You like that?” Rex asks with a chuckle, only getting a sleepy nod in response.

He finishes up washing Stutter’s hair, he then grabs a towel. “Time to get out.” Stutter nods, standing up and letting Rex wrap the towel around him and lift him out. Rex sets him down and softly dries Stutter off, being very gentle around his bruises.

He then helps Stutter get dressed, the clothes are a little big, but not by much. Rex then carries Stutter to Obi Wan's bed where he knows Cody is, laying down with the two older teens. Before Stutter closes his eyes, he sees the sun setting over the horizon, bright shades of oranges and yellows shining into the room, making him feel cozy and warm before closing his eyes to get some sleep.

xxx

Stutter finishes his painting. "L-Look Jesse. I-I-I'm done." He would be smiling if he could, the memory of being rescued by Rex and his brothers always makes him happy. It was the best day of his life, even if his father and brothers got away.

Stutter loves drawing sunsets, a sunset was the thing he saw the first time he ever felt safe and warm, loved, and it always relaxes him to draw them.

The paper man runs over to Stutter, being careful of the paint. "That looks amazing Stutter, you did a great job." Jesse smiles at him, and Stutter wishes that he could smile back. "D-Do you t-t-think t-that Rex w-would like it?"

"Of course he would, why don't we go give it to him. We could go get Obi Wan to help us carry it." Stutter makes a nodding motion, and Jesse runs over to Kix. "Come on Kix, you can come help me and Stutter get Obi Wan." Kix sighs, but nods.

"Fine, but if he's busy we're leaving him alone. We can always just grab Rex and bring him down here, okay." Both Jesse and Stutter nod, and with that the three fly out of the room. Jesse folded into a bird as usual.

They fly to Obi Wan and Cody's shared room, and Kix hits his body on the door, making a thumping sound. It's the only way he can knock. They wait a few moments, then Kix knocks again. After a few minutes this time the door opens and they see the suit of armor looking at them.

"Did you three need something?" He asked, it's not very often that someone interrupts him and Cody. Stutter stays behind the two older cousins, even after so many years he's still afraid of some things. "Stutter painted a picture and wanted to give it to Rex, we were wondering if you could carry it up for us?" Jesse asks.

Obi Wan chuckles. "I can definitely help with that, let's go get it. Do you want to come Cody?" Cody shuffles towards the door. "Sure, let's go. Do you three want a ride?" Kix, Jesse and Stutter all nod and fly up, Jesse holds onto Kix instead of folding himself this time. They sit on Cody as him and Obi Wan make their way to the drawing room, once they get their Sabine is still painting and Stutter's painting is sitting right where he left it.

Obi Wan picks it up, admiring it. Stutter starts to get nervous, he doesn't know if Obi Wan likes it or not. Obi Wan senses Stutter's nervousness. "This looks amazing Stutter, you did a great job on it. Look Cody." Obi Wan holds the picture where Cody could see it, and the desk hums when he sees it. “Wow, this looks stunning. I love the colours you used, you're so talented. Rex is going to love this.”

Even though he doesn't have one, Stutter's face is beaming in delight. “Thank you so much, I hope he does.” The four brothers and Obi Wan, who carries the painting with care, head up the stairs towards the West Wing. As soon as they arrive at Rex's bedroom door, they hear a soft snoring sound. Obi Wan gently knocks as he opens the door to see Anakin lying on top of Rex at a slight angle across his fluffy chest and stomach. As Rex breathes, letting out the soft snores, his chest slowly rises and falls.

A few moments later, Anakin starts to stir, looking up to see Obi Wan standing in the doorway. He can't see Cody or the others at the level he is lying at. Anakin lets out a yawn and whispers, as to not wake Rex “Obi Wan. Is everything alright?” Obi Wan nods and whispers back “Yes, everything is fine. Cody, Stutter and the twins are here too.”

Anakin hears a shuffling and sees them all come into view now. “Hey you guys.” they all respond with a quiet greeting. “What you got there, Obi Wan?” Anakin nods towards the canvas.

“It's a painting of a sunset that Stutter did for Rex.” Obi Wan explains, smiling invisibly to Stutter. “I-If h-h-he's asleep, I-I-I c-can just l-leave it h-here f-f-for him.” Stutter offers.

The sound of quiet talking to each other eventually wakes Rex up. He goes to sit up when he remembers that Anakin is lying down on top of him. As he lets out a yawn, the others see his sharp teeth and fangs showing on display. It doesn't bother anyone in the slightest that he has them. Anakin chuckles a little as he gets up, allowing Rex to sit up “Nice nap, Rexster?”

Rex smiles at the nickname that Anakin gave him when they were younger. It started out as something to bug Rex with, when they first met Anakin didn't really like Rex very much, but things have definitely changed since then.

"Yeah, it was nice. So what are you guys doing here?" Rex asks, gesturing to the group. Stutter is hiding behind Obi Wan now, suddenly very shy. "Well, Stutter painted a picture for you, Rex'ika." Rex perks up, he loves when Stutter paints him pictures. He looks around, but doesn't see the paintbrush anywhere.

"Where is he?" Rex frowns while he asks, he knows that Stutter must be hiding. It happens sometimes, even after all the years away from him, Stutter still has habits and scars from his father. Physical and emotional.

"Come on out, Stutter. You know that I'm not going to hurt you, I promise." Stutter flies out from behind Obi Wan, who walks forward. "This is the painting that Stutter painted for you." Rex takes the painting and Stutter flies over while Rex looks at it.

"This is amazing, Stutter! I love it!" Stutter beams, flying up and snuggling into Rex's fur. Rex chuckles, nuzzling the paintbrush. "Thank you, Ori'Vod."

Rex smiles, it always warms his heart when Stutter calls him that. It took him so long to get up the courage to call Rex his brother.

"You're welcome, Stutter. I love it. I'll make sure to find a place to hang it up later." Rex stands up to find a place to put the painting, and that's when Stutter backs up. Accidentally bumping into a glass framed painting of Rex's parents, it falls to the floor, shattering. The loud noise scared Stutter, but even more so knowing how important that painting is to Rex.

Anakin knows this too, and he starts walking towards Rex to calm him down. "STUTTER!!!! HOW COULD YOU!!!" Rex yells, making Stutter flinch and whimper loudly. Stutter flies as fast as he can out of the room. The room falls silent, regret fills Rex as he feels everyone in the room staring at him. “Rex!! Why would you yell at Stutter like that?!” Cody makes Rex press his ears back, whimpering as he realizes what he just did. “I...I didn't mean to-” Rex bolts out of his room to go and hide from everyone, embarrassed at what he just did. Obi Wan places his hand on top of Cody to calm his boyfriend, feeling his anger boiling up inside of him.

Stutter sobs hard as he floats down the hallway, trying to fight away his pain caused so many years ago, on the verge of letting it consume and destroy him. He bursts into a room, falling to the floor from the loss of energy. He chokes on his sobs, wishing that he had tears that would allow him to cry away his pain for a short time, before his episodes of panic attacks fully developed into outbreaks that would uncontrollably happen every now and then.

“Stutter?”

Taglist: @ellie1366 @pro-fangirls-unsocial-life @lightning-wolffe @pinkiemme

@captainrexisboo @trash-dino-5000

#beauty and the beast #beauty and the beast au #wererex #wererex x reader #werewolf rex #werewolf rex x reader #knight reader #Stutter #my oc #Captain rex x reader #captain rex #my writing #star wars clone wars #star wars rebels #codywan #cody #obi wan #fives #echo

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piratejct · 3 years

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* 𝐣𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐲, 𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 + 𝐡𝐞 / 𝐡𝐢𝐦 | you know 𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐦 𝐛𝐚𝐮𝐞𝐫, right? they’re 𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐞, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, 𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 years? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐣𝐞𝐬𝐮𝐬 by 𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐞 like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole 𝐨𝐢𝐥-𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬, 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐦𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐚 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is 𝐚𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐥 𝟑𝐫𝐝 so they’re an 𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬, which is unsurprising, all things considered.

NAME: adam bauer NICKNAME(S): n/a, but you’re welcome to change that xx D.O.B: april 3rd, 1992 AGE: 29 BIRTH PLACE: san diego, california CURRENTLY RESIDING: irving, north carolina SEXUALITY: bisexual OCCUPATION: freelance mechanic & bartender at scuba

BACKSTORY:

tw: mentions of kidnapping, attempted murder, drugs, overdose, death, drunk driving, car crash, self-loathing.

80% of your life has been all but worth it. are you in the right place? failure, guilt and persistent hollowness occupy your entire being, nibble at the slab of meat inside your head, keeping you up night after night. where did things go wrong? were you destined to be this way? you were born into a middle class household that lasted only a couple of years. you were six, your sister three when the police came knocking on the door. the last time you saw your father was on the tv, the very next day when he had officially become the town’s own boogeyman. later, you learned he’ll spend the rest of his days in prison –– a punishment still not good enough for a kidnapping and two counts of attempted murder.

frantically, your mother packed the bags and not even a month later, you could officially consider yourself a resident of irving. it was a promising new beginning, until it wasn’t. your mother found a man, an alright man –– or so she had thought at the time. he always remembered to say hi to you, smile in the doorway, so you used to think he was okay, too. after all, he was not locked up in a cell, and that immediately made him better than some. after a year of a seemingly healthy relationship, your mother had the third baby and the thought of a happy family was ever so exciting. but of course, before they could even decide on a name, the man was gone. vanished, with any hopes the now single mother of three had had.

you grew up faster than most of the other kids in class. you didn’t have a choice. every day, you’d help your mom around the house, and while you wouldn’t realize it, you were her rock. and she? she was your best friend. at one point, your only friend. the kids at school wouldn’t die for you. they thought you were stupid, because whenever you’d read out loud, your voice would shake. you’d get nervous and you’d stutter, which made your voice shake even more and barry with the crooked teeth laugh even harder. they didn’t understand why you couldn’t just read the words, and for the longest time, you didn’t either. not even after the doctor gave it a name: dyslexia.

but you couldn’t blame it all on a learning disorder. sure, it was difficult, but it’s not like you had the drive to try, despite it. school wasn’t your forte and being book-smart would never be on your resume. even though your grades were known for being just a tad below average, you graduated, but didn’t leave it at that. god, you probably should’ve. but you wanted your mother to be proud. and so, you applied for university in a different town. to everyone’s surprise, they accepted the half-assed application without even acknowledging the numerous spelling errors. your mother hugged you tight, cried into your chest. she told you she loved you and you genuinely believed her. and then like every man in her life, you went off to disappoint her.

you changed your major twice before dropping out altogether. instead of attending lectures, you started selling drugs around the corner, always keeping yourself sufficiently high, too. it felt like an easy life, until they busted your ass. the student loan was cancelled and you were kicked out of the dorms. for months, you’d go between couch-surfing and sleeping in remote locations, all while doing heavy drugs and calling home every tuesday to tell your mom everything was going just great. then, they found you unconscious in a bathroom stall. accidentally, you had taken one too many.

after that, you had no choice but to come clean and return back home, where you’d spend months in rehab while wondering if being a person is really your calling. no matter where you went, you just couldn’t fit in. while your siblings were close, you were an outsider, an intruder in your own home and the prime example of what not to do in life. your half-brother was the polar opposite, and every day, you’d watch him succeed, no matter what it was. highest grades, captain of the football team, the perfect boy next door –– the complete package. he knew he was better and you hated him for it.

he had just started studying business at the local university. he was eighteen, his spirits always high. he was the life of the party, of every party. that night, he had driven himself, taken your mother’s car with the promise of returning it in one piece. the plan was to stay overnight, but due to issues you couldn’t even be bothered to hear about, it wasn’t a possibility. he called around 3 in the morning, drunk and asking if you could be a good brother, just this once, and pick him up. naturally, you were too tired and too bitter to cooperate. “figure it out, buddy.”

and he did.

the police said the body was near unrecognizable, the car wrecked, in pieces on the side of the road. you fucked up. you fucked up real bad. and your mother? fuck, she was too nice to you. too supportive. she only blamed you once, wine drunk and miserable. “tell me, adam. where did i go wrong?” and “if you weren’t so awful to people all the time, your brother would still be with us.” in that moment, you wished it would’ve been you. and three years later, you still do.

PERSONALITY, OR LACK THEREOF:

+ self-sufficient, loyal, protective - aloof, stubborn, hotheaded

x rough around the edges. resting face screaming “permanently pissed off”. favorite party-trick revolves around looking as unapproachable as possible. not a horrible guy, but he is a deeply unhappy person. at this point, however, he’s pretty much used that being the norm. has learned to live with it.

x has a hard time letting his guard down. tends to isolate himself, doesn’t let people too close because he genuinely seems to believe he’s better off on his own. at the same time, persistent loneliness is what keeps him up at night. can someone please hold him? but.. instead of establishing deep, personal connections, he does tend to sleep with people and not talk to them again. thinks that if he doesn’t let anyone close enough, they won’t be able to fully hate him for who he actually is.

x can go from being this chill, mellow, i-don’t-care to full blown anger. temperamental, confrontational when provoked, stubborn enough to stick with whatever he believes in. don’t catch him on a bad day. that being said, he’s much gentler around women. guys, on the other hand? piss him off just enough and you’ll get your ass kicked. men can make his soul angry and his dick hard.

x overall, there is some suppressed softness there but you’re not getting any of it unless you’ve unlocked level 109 friendship. <3 sorry <3

x because of past experiences, he tends to stay away from heavy drugs. however, he does like to smoke some weed every now and then. (read: everyday, bro.) and even though he doesn’t really deal, if you need a bud or two, you can hit him up and hope for the best.

x sarcastic and tends to act unbothered, but is actually very protective of these few people he’s actually allowed himself to care about. don’t mess with his folks, folks.

x chainsmoker. smokes everywhere, even in bed.

x is currently renting an apartment with one or two other people. works as a freelance mechanic while also bartending at scuba. on the side, he also dabbles in music, mainly synth but he can also play guitar. however, it’s not something he talks about because, um, he’s insecure. :) to be fair, though, he definitely doesn’t suck.

x his alcohol tolerance is spot-on, so at least he’s got that going for him. he’s also pretty street smart. and despite usually not being one for physical contact, boy actually gives amazing hugs.

x momma’s boy at heart. king of cool hairstyles by choice.

x don’t talk about his brother. or do! how much do you need teeth, really?

WANTED CONNECTIONS:

everything basic, essential and beyond. give me:

housemates

best friend

some other close friends

hook-ups

exes (good and bad terms)

enemies. someone to fistfight with!

childhood friends

drug/party buddies

co-workers

and whatever your heart desires x

#irvingintro #guten tag welcome to this pile of crap <3 #i wrote this at 5 am while facetiming shakespeare

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wearebrokenintheend · 4 years

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Pedro Pascal x Reader

Words: 4735 (I got caught up in this)

Warnings: Smut, daddy kink, slow burn, strangers to lovers, age gap, reader is at least 20ish, also fluffy fluff 💕

+ Here’s the song I had on repeat while writing the smut. Just thought it would enhance the experience 💖

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

It was my parents’ annual Fourth of July party, where all of our family and close friends were invited to gather at our house for food, alcohol, and fun explosives. They began this tradition when I was small child, and never failed to make it more extravagant than the last. I grew up in such a patriotic household due to the fact that my father was a retired navy officer, and my mom was one of those people who will celebrate anything when she gets the chance. I was always encouraged to praise my country and heritage, especially on National holidays.

Of course, I loved celebrating with my family, and I loved our parties. The only thing that bothered me was how my parents would act during the parties. They’d drink all day and night and leave their worries behind, while I had to clean up and make sure that nothing bad happened to them or anyone else. I know that it’s good for everyone to just cut back and let loose every now and then, but there was a fine line between the letting loose and being a pain to everyone around you.

The thing about this years party was that I was finally allowed to drink, which meant that I too would be in on the fun, at least that’s what I assumed. It was hard to be surrounded by drunk adults having the time of their lives while I was stuck in the background sulking. Of course there were always some kids to hang out with, but I always ended up being left out.

While greeting everyone and joining different conversations, I spotted my Uncle walking into the yard with an extremely attractive man at his side. Immediately, I left the group of a few people to walk over to him. Our eyes locked and my Uncle smiled and held out his arms for a hug.

“Ah, y/n, it’s been too long since I’ve seen my favorite niece!” He greeted, wrapping his arms around me and squeezing playfully like he did when I was a child.

“Hey Uncle Dave,” I replied, smiling in his embrace. “I’ve missed you too.”

As we broke apart, I looked towards the handsome stranger, content with holding myself back from gawking at him. Something about him felt so familiar, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.

“Oh, this is my good friend Pedro.” He looked toward Pedro, “This is my niece, y/n. My brothers daughter.”

Pedro smiled and nodded at me, holding out his hand and shaking mine.

“It’s so nice to meet you, y/n.” He looked back at my uncle, “You never told me how beautiful she was.” He said with a slight laugh.

My uncle playfully narrowed his eyes at him, “Don’t make me kick your ass, Pedro.”

They both shared a laugh before my father spotted his brother, pulling him away and leaving Pedro and I alone.

“So how did you and my uncle meet?” I asked, wanting to know more about him.

“Oh, Dave and I met when we were filming a show of mine. We ended up spending a lot of time together on set and started spending even more time out of work.”

I nodded and smiled, remembering that my uncle was a writer and producer in Hollywood. Suddenly it clicked in my head, I knew this man. He was THE Pedro Pascal. I first met him on screen as Oberyn Martell, whom I had a crush on in the asoiaf book series.

He must’ve noticed my eyes growing slightly wider and recognized the moment of realization.

“I see that you know who I am now, correct?” He stated, breaking me away from my thoughts.

I looked up at him, feeling a deep blush burn across my face.

“Uh, yeah, you’re Pedro Pascal. I’m uh, I’m a big fan of yours.”

He laughed,

“Well maybe not enough if you couldn’t recognize me right away.”

I let out an awkward laugh and he smiled softly back at me.

“Don’t worry y/n, I’m only teasing. It happens a lot more often than you might think.”

I just nodded and found myself tucking a strand of loose hair behind my ears. Pedro noticed and leaned down to whisper into my ear.

“You’re very beautiful, y/n. Especially when you get all flustered like this.”

He pulled away and looked around to make sure no one was paying much attention to us. Meanwhile, I was taken aback that someone like him would ever like someone like me. I mean, yeah I was pretty, usually on a good day, but I wasn’t anything like the women I knew he’d been around.

Taking a sip of my wine from a plastic cup, I scanned my surroundings. I noticed that my parents and uncle were all preoccupied with the other guests, leaving no room for any unwanted attention. Then I suddenly felt a bit lightheaded, and I stumbled back a few inches. Pedro immediately grabbed my arm to keep me steady, then leaving it there once I locked eyes with him.

“Shit, I don’t know what just happened to me. Maybe I’m more of a lightweight then I thought.” I half-laughed, earning me a smirk from Pedro.

“Don’t worry, you’re still young and you’ve got plenty of time to get used to it.”

After giving him an amused smirk, I took another swing of my drink.

“You’re right, but I’m afraid if I try it all too fast then I might end up in the emergency room, or worse.”

With a sigh, I noticed my cup was finally empty, so I turned myself toward the house to get more. Something deep inside knew that I’d have to have even more alcohol to keep calm around Pedro.

“Hey, I think I’m gonna head inside for another drink, or maybe just sit down for a bit to get out of this heat.”

Pedro have me an understanding look, but I saw the slight disappointment in his eyes. I couldn’t believe that this man actually wanted to be around me.

“I mean, you can join me if you want. I just thought you’d want to meet the rest of my family or something.”

“Oh I don’t know, I don’t want to intrude or anything.”

I rolled my eyes and let out a soft snort.

“Oh don’t be ridiculous, Pedro. You’re the best company I’ve ever had at one of this things.”

He beamed at me and I looked around one last time, hoping everyone else was still preoccupied. I mean, I didn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea - wait, why did I suddenly care what everyone thought of me? Was I really that afraid? I shrugged my thoughts off and gave Pedro my hand. He grabbed it without missing a beat, and I lead him to the back door.

Once we entered the house, I walked toward the fridge, opening it and grabbing myself a hard iced tea.

“Would you like anything?”

“Yeah, I’ll have a beer, y/n.”

Hearing him say my name made your insides melt; I had to fight to keep myself on my feet. I found myself falling so hard for a man who had only met me maybe half and hour ago. Rolling my eyes at myself, I grabbed him a beer and walked over to the sofa.

“Here ya go, Pedro.”

I sat myself right next to him, our thighs touching. It made my nerves go all haywire, and I couldn’t control them anymore.

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

There was a pause after he spoke, his words lingering like fingertips on my chest. I wanted him to call me endearing names like that for the rest of my life.

Pedro broke my train of thought by clearing his throat, trying to ease the awkward tension in the room. So it wasn’t just me who felt this way. I looked up at him, our eyes meeting once again.

“Pedro, pl-please tell me it’s not just me.”

He stops himself from responding by pursing his lips. He looked as though he had all kinds of internal conflict to suddenly deal with. After a few seconds past, he looked towards his hands. Then he moved to grab mine, taking my by surprise. He brings my hands to his lips and feathers his lips against my skin, leaving soft, slight kisses. As much I was wanted this moment to last a lifetime, I couldn’t help but satisfy my eager self. I decided to pull my hand away and replace them with my own lips, crushing them against his at last. I could feel Pedro’s slight shock at first, and then he quickly turned back to his calm demeanor. Eventually we pulled away from each other to catch ourselves. All I could notice was his bright grin, practically radiating our surroundings.

“Woah.” I muttered, my breathing still slightly heavy.

“Yeah.” He replied, running a hand through his dark hair.

It was at that moment that I knew I wanted this man to fuck me into the morning light, and I wanted him to start as soon as possible. Pedro then gave me a quizzical look, practically begging to know what I was thinking. I pulled my phone out of my back pocket and unlocked it, going to my contacts section and starting a new one.

“Put your number in my phone.”

He looked down at my phone and back at me, grabbing it and putting his name and number in.

“Okay, so I’ve got a plan to get you in my room without anyone noticing we’re gone for too long.”

Pedro’s eyes widened, his eyebrows raising dramatically. I smiled in response to his unspoken question, blushing once again at him.

“But, only if you want to, of course.”

“And what exactly do we want to do?”

I gulped, my mouth dry as I was suddenly at a loss for words.

“Hm?”

I leaned onto him, my lips hovering over his ear. I bit my lip before confessing my desire to him, for him.

“I want you in me. I want you to fuck me until I can’t walk.”

Pedro was left stunned by my request, but I could see the part of him that wanted me more than anything. He gulped and then let out a long, heavy breath.

“Are you sure this is what you want, y/n?”

“Absolutely.”

“Okay, what’s the plan?”

“We go outside together, and then separate. I go find my parents and tell them that I don’t feel good and that I’m going to bed. Then when I’m ready, I’ll text you.”

“What do I say if someone asks where I’m going?”

“Just make something up, like you need to go to the bathroom, or you need to lay down. I don’t know.”

He gave me an unsure look, but I raised my fingers to his cheek and he nodded. We both got up from the couch and made our way to the back door. Once we were outside, I spotted my mom and made a beeline for her.

“Hey mom, I-“

“Oh, y/n! I was starting to worry about you. Now that you’re here we can start the fireworks!”

“Yeah, about that, uh...mom, I think I drank a bit too much and now I don’t feel so hot. I think it’s best if I just head in for the night.”

My mother gave me a slightly disappointed look, knowing how much I enjoyed the fireworks.

“Oh, well, I suppose you should. I’d hate for you to miss everything, though.”

“I’ll be fine mom. I’ve got plenty of years left.”

“Goodnight sweetheart. Don’t forget to take something to help you sleep.”

“I will mom. Love you.”

As soon as I was able to, I walked back to the house. I spotted Pedro with my uncle and dad, and all I could think was how he was gonna get away from them. Would they have any idea what we’d be doing? No, I can’t think like that. I need this. I need Pedro.

I reached my bedroom and saw that I had some clothes and cups scattered around. I quickly cleaned everything up and made sure to spray some air freshener around. I undressed and put on my sexiest pair of undies and bra, then redressing. I put out and lit some candles to soothe the tone of my surroundings, hoping that Pedro would like it. Lastly, I found the box of condoms that I kept in the back of my nightstand for whatever. I then noticed that they weren’t open. Of course. I’ve never been able to bring a guy home and actually sleep with him. Well, there’s a first for everything.

As soon as I was ready, I found Pedro’s contact and texted him.

* Hey, I’m ready for you ;)

I waited for a few minutes until he replied.

* Okay baby girl. I’m on my way now ;)

I let out a quiet shriek of excitement at the fact that he called my baby girl. This is finally happening! Suddenly there was a knock on my door.

“Come in.”

Pedro swiftly opened and shut the door before taking a long look at me. He licked his lips as he walked towards me sitting on the end of my bed. I shot up and wrapped my arms around him, the two of us just looking at each other. I broke his gaze and slammed my lips against his, my tongue immediately slipping into his mouth. He growled as he pushed us onto the bed, the feeling of his clothed dick against my leg driving me crazier. Once he started kissing on my neck, I began lifting his shirt up his torso, begging for him. He helped me remove it, giving me a chance to take in his beautiful body.

“I hope I haven’t disappointed you yet.”

“Oh, I can already tell that you won’t.”

We smiled at each other before I removed my own shirt and bra for him. Pedro smiled bigger and leaned back down to run his lips against my breast. His mouth began teasing at my left nipple while he used his hand to play with my right one. I let out my first moan of the night, attracting Pedro’s immediate attention. His head shot up, and I saw the lust in his dark eyes. I nodded to let him know that I truly wanted this, that I needed this. He grinned in response, returning his attention to my breast. Now taking my right nipple into his mouth, he used his hands to roam my sides. Every inch he touched had lit up like a dull burning flame. The heat was rising and spreading all over, but never enough the painfully burn me. It was a heat that I had only ever dreamt of feeling. I realized that it wasn’t the feeling of Pedro touching me that lit my fire; it was Pedro himself that lit my fire. He lit it and made me burn brighter then I could have ever thought possible. It was at this very moment that I began to understand how much this man truly meant to me.

“Are you alright, sweetheart?”

Pedro asked, pulling me out of my thoughts to notice him looked towards me. I hadn’t noticed that he stopped, or that I was breathing heavily and slightly shaking.

“Oh, yeah, sorry. I just got lost in my head for a bit.”

Damn it, I ruined the mood for him! Now he probably thinks I was so bored that I drifted off. Why am I always getting stuck in my thoughts? I mean, the only ever make things worse for me.

“I-you’re fine, Pedro. I promise.”

“Okay y/n, if you say so.”

He reached up from my torso to place a tender kiss on my forehead, then one on my lips. I could taste the beer from his mouth, further intoxicating me. I let out a soft plea for me and Pedro let out another growl, his teeth now grazing my bottom lip as he pulled away from the kiss to focus his mouth on my neck and collarbone. He started at the corner of my mouth and made his way down my neck. His warm, hot breath sending shivers down my spine. Once he had kissed my skin he began sucking and gently biting, making sure to leave just the slightest of marks. He wanted to make sure that only I could notice them tomorrow morning, after he was long gone. The thought alone made my heart melt with pure joy. Pedro had cared about me enough to leave his mark. He wanted me to know that he wanted me. Not just at this very moment, but even after. He wanted to make the best first impression he possibly could. I softly bucked my hips up against his, begging for some kind of friction from him. He let out a short chuckle, looking back at me and caressing my face in his hands.

“Don’t worry, baby girl. Daddy’s gonna take good care of you.”

My body let out a hum of delight, his words filling my heart and lower abdomen with butterflies.

“Please daddy. I need you now.”

I begged with all of my heart and soul, wanting to let him know just how much I meant what I said. He needed to understand that I was clay in his hands, waiting to be molded and created.

After what seemed like hours of waiting, Pedro left my upper body and pulled off my shorts. He positioned himself to place kisses on my inner thigh, making sure to leave more marks on me. I knew he could see and feel the warmth pooling at my center, he knew how ready I was. Yet he continued to tease me like this. Asshole.

Just as I was about to say something, he looked up into my eyes as he began using his teeth to remove my panties. The sheer sight alone was almost enough to send me off. This is the kind of shit I thought only happened in romance novels or something. Surely no man was ever this willing to go through all this trouble to further turn a woman on. But here he was, giving his all to please little old me. I felt my mouth pull into a genuine smile, my cheeks burning at my complete vulnerability and nakedness before him.

Once he got to my knees, he used his fingers to remove the fabric. I lifted my legs to help, feeling slightly guilty that he was doing all the work. After my clothing was strewn out on floor, Pedro took another longing look at me, doing his best to remember every inch of me in this moment. I could tell that he never wanted to forget this, and I never wanted to either. He then let out a soft breath.

“You’re so beautiful, mi amor.”

He spoke as if he were in a trance, like the sight of my body enough to completely hypnotize him.

“I’m all yours, daddy.”

My words snapped Pedro out of his thoughts, his eyes darting to meet mine. He licked his lips and hovered down between my legs. I spread my legs to give him more access. He wasted no time and gingerly places his lips on my folds. The sudden warmth made my shiver, my sex quivering for him. I let out a sigh of relief, but there was still an enormous amount of frustration in my body.

“I need you now, Pedro. Please. Please daddy.”

Pedro chuckled, the sound vibrating against me, tingling my bundle of nerves.

“Anything for you, baby girl.”

He then inserted two digits, spreading them apart to help adjust me for his length. He made sure to swirl his fingers around a bit, and then pump them in and out of me. I could hear my wetness through my groans, further turning me on.

Just as I was beginning to get used to his fingers, he pulled them out and put them in his mouth. The sight of him sucking my juices off of his own fingers was an absolute dream. This man kept on amazing me with his dedication to me. He lifted himself off the bed to remove his jeans and briefs. His cock sprung out of its restraints, almost completely erect already. In a swift movement, he grabbed the condom from the side of the bed and tore it open. All I could do was fixate on him rolling it onto himself. I found myself wanted to watch him pump himself, I wanted to see him finish himself.

“God you’re so fucking hot when you look at me like that, baby. It turns me on so fucking much.”

I smiled a shy grin, my cheeks flushing once again. Pedro bent down to give me a hungry kiss, his tongue now exploring my mouth. He pulled away and positioned himself to enter me. He pulled my body towards the end of the bed, my legs leaning of the end. His grip on my thighs tightened, pushing his cock to my entrance. With a rough inhale, he slowly slid into me, making sure I was alright.

“You can tell me if anything hurts, sweetheart. I’m more than willing to take my time.”

I looked up at him, shaking my head.

“No, Pedro, I’m fine. Really. You’re doing perfect, baby. So fucking perfect.”

He nodded and finally pushed himself all the way into me. He quickly pulled out, my slickness aiding him. Then he began to slide in and out, his tempo growing faster with every thrust. Before I could gather myself together, he started swirling his thumb on my clit. He was sending me further than I ever thought I could go. Without missing a beat, my body reacted to his thrusts and rubbing by releasing itself. I felt myself fucking squirting on him. As soon as he noticed, he let out a deep groan of delight.

“Oh fucking yes, baby. That’s it. Squirt all over daddy.”

I noticed my moans growing louder and louder with each movement he made. I was grabbing at my bedsheets, begging for release. The tension was building up in me faster than I could handle. I also began letting out high pitched moans, reminding myself of a porn star or something. It sounded so unrealistic to me, almost overdramatic. But here I was, putting no effort into these noises, all of them purely natural responses.

“Yes, yes, fuck fuck fuck.”

I muttered, almost forgetting how to speak through this euphoria.

“I’m so fucking close daddy!”

My lower abdomen had a feeling of tight coils being bunched together, tighter and tighter with every breath. I knew that I only had seconds before they would release.

“Yes baby girl, that’s it. Come for daddy.”

Pedro sped up his pace on my clit and thrusted harder, hitting my sweet spot. Within a few more thrusts, I felt it hit me. My climax had began and I was now riding off my own high. My eyes had slammed shut and tears were forming in them. I let out a squeal of absolute pleasure, my body almost convulsing from the amount of pure release. I managed to grab Pedro’s arms and began to squeeze, trying to find some sort of stability through my high. I was practically screaming for him at this point, not knowing what else to do. I’d only ever experienced a few climaxes this intense before, and they had all been a long while ago.

Pedro had begun his climax as soon as my walls tightened around him as I started mine. His cock twitched inside me, growing softer by the second. He let out a bundle of english and spanish curses, his grip on my hips tightening as much as mine on him. As soon as he was finished, he pulled out and removed his condom. He tied the end and tossed in it my trash bin by my nightstand. While he did so, I was still left in a daze, stuck staring up at my ceiling. It felt as though my life had been complete, for I had experienced the greatest high known to man. There was nothing else left that could ever compare to that feeling. I had reached the very top.

“You thinking again, honey?”

Pedro had put on his briefs and jeans, then his shirt. He’d gathered my clothes and placed them beside my on the bed.

“Yeah. Just thinking about nothing.”

He simply nodded and sat on my bed. I lifted myself up to put on my panties and went to my dresser to grab a t-shirt to sleep in. I found my oversized Fleetwood Mac shirt and slid it on, turning around to face Pedro. He took a look at my shirt and grinned.

“You’ve got a taste for men and music. You’re my dream girl.”

We both laughed as I laid myself on my bed. I cover myself with the duvet and reached out to touch Pedro’s lap.

“Are you gonna leave now?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so, though. You’re much more entertaining than anything outside, my dear.”

He slid himself under my covers, cuddling me in his arms, kissing me. I felt at home; I felt truly complete. A part of me knew that this is what I want for the rest of my life. Pedro was the key to my happiness. I would never be the same without him, and I needed to keep him forever. I internally shook my head at my own self. I’m turning into a fucking sap for this man. I knew that we would never work out, but my heart still ached for him.

I placed my hand on his cheek, my thumb caressing his face. His slight stubble creating a pleasing friction against my skin.

“So what exactly did you see in me?”

He looked almost shocked at my question, completely caught off guard.

“What do you mean?”

“Why did you find me so attractive that you’re currently risking your life to sleep with me?”

He chuckled and shook his head, rubbing his thumb on my face as I did his.

“I just saw something different in you. The way you held yourself, the way you looked me in the eyes as we talked. You were completely sincere in every way, and you have this undeniable charm about you. You’re so intoxicating to me.”

My heart swelled at his words. Was I really like that? I mean, I try my best to be nice to everyone I meet, but I didn’t think I was so full of compassion. I never really thought that I was different in a good way, or that I even stood out to anyone. I felt tears growing in my eyes, slowly sliding down my face. Pedro suddenly looked concerned, worried that he’d said something wrong.

“I’m sorry, was that not what you wanted to hear? I-I mean-“

“No Pedro, it was more than what I could’ve ever expected. No ones ever said anything so kind about me. I don’t think anyone has ever given me much thought before.”

“Well then everyone else is a fucking idiot, sweetheart. You’re everything and then some, and only a fool would miss something as incredible as that.”

We pulled together and kissed once again, our hands wrapped around each other in a longing embrace. I pulled away and smiled at Pedro.

“Now when did you figure out that I had a thing for you? Or for older guys in general?”

I teased him, giving him a toothy grin. He lightly pushed me away while I burst out giggling.

“Sweetheart, I knew you had a thing for older men the minute we met. I saw how you looked at me before you even knew who I was. I saw the thirst in your eyes.”

I blinked at him, slightly embarrassed at my own self for being so easy to read like that.

“Was it really that obvious?”

“Definitely, and you know what?”

“What?”

Pedro paused, reaching towards me to tuck a stray piece of my hair behind my ear. Then he placed a soft kiss on my nose, his thumb gently caressing my cheek.

“I totally fucking loved it.”

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

#pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #oberyn martell #narcos #kingsmen #oscaar isaac #fluff #smut

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yodawgiherd · 4 years

Text

Rome pt.2

>>>Read on AO3<<<

Rating: M

Setting: Historical Rome

Second part of the Rome AU =) Stay cool.

The sun was hot, but Eren was used to that. Under the protection of the villa’s roof, the heat was not even that bad, other things irritated him way more. If he were to name one that pissed him off the most at this very moment, it was sitting right next to him. His father, Grisha, half-drunk as usual, yammering on.

“As I was saying,”, he continued whatever train of thought went on in his head, “If they increase the taxes again, I’d have to sell some of my farms.”

Money, yes. That was the one thing that concerned him. At least Eren was not the target of his father’s speech this time, it was old man Reiss, sitting across the table and somehow paying attention.

“We should put some pressure on the senate,”, Reiss said, “They can’t keep pushing at us forever.”

His father nodded at that.

“Power to the people! That’s right! We should…”

Turning off his brain, Eren filtered out his father’s voice, a skill he was proficient in, eyes searching for the last occupant of the table. The blonde girl, Reiss’s daughter and heir, Historia. One of his closest friends, and by the will of both their fathers, his future wife. No, he did not have a say in this, and neither did she.

Kicking her lightly under the table, he made her look up, doing a grimace afterwards to express just how boring the money-talk was. She hid her smile under her palm and kicked him back, much stronger. Eren couldn’t stop himself from grinning. Historia was great, really fun and everything, but there was a little problem neither his nor her father knew that would complicate their upcoming marriage. Eren himself discovered it by accident and had sworn not to tell anyone. As they still had time before being seriously pressed into tying the knot, they decided to just wait it out for now. There was time for everything.

His father finished another long monologue, draining his wine cup afterwards and reaching out. A slave immediately jumped in and refilled it, which made Eren’s stomach churn. He hated slaves. No, that came out wrong. He didn’t hate the people themselves, he hated the system of slavery altogether. Their family, as a rich patrician one, understandably had plenty of slaves, and it was a topic of many arguments between Eren and his parents. Even as a child Eren never understood why it is okay for a human being to be owned by another one, just because one was born wrong, conquered, or in debt. His father originally dismissed all that talk as a child’s words, but as Eren grew, so did his hatred for slavery. The idea of not being free just because someone decided it is that way upset him to no end. But he was not the head of the house, that was his father, so technically he could not do anything. He was not even the heir to their villa, that was his half-brother Zeke, currently a Tribuni in the Roman legions, winning fame for himself on the frontlines.

A sudden burst of laughter got his attention, as both Grisha and Reiss laughed out loud, with Historia having a tight-lipped courteous smile herself. She was very good at pretending that she is interested in whatever bullshit the two of them were talking about.

“I do understand that,” Reiss was just saying, wiping tears from the corners of his eyes, “When Historia was a child, she brought home a homeless orphan and wouldn’t stop crying until I gave her a place in my household. Now, what is her name….”

“Ymir, father.”, his daughter quickly offered, “She is my best friend.”

“I do not believe in associating with the lower classes myself.”, Grisha said, “Eren also had a small episode when he tried befriending some slave girl, but I quickly got him out of that.”

Oh yes, that was a great memory. Even now, years later, Eren remembered coming home and telling his mother all excitedly about this nice girl with strange eyes that he met, and that he gave her his candy. He remembered being all giddy when he asked if he could go and see her again tomorrow, perhaps bring her some more candy, so that she would tell him her name. And most of all, he remembered the pained expression that his mother had during that talk because unlike Eren in his childlike ignorance, she knew very well what Grisha’s reaction will be once he finds out.

“It was not easy,”, his father was just saying, “But a highborn must know who to make friends with, and it is not slaves.”

He turned towards his son.

“Tell us Eren, how did I stop you from seeing that slave girl again?”

As if he could ever forget.

“You threatened that if I ever went to visit her, you would buy her yourself and then have our house guards drown her in the Tiber.”, meeting his father’s eyes, it took everything Eren had to keep his voice calm, “And I would have to watch it all.”

“Exactly. And even with all the crying and locking yourself in your room, you obeyed in the end.”, looking back at Reiss, his father continued, “Principles must be taught to the youngsters, otherwise they would just get out of control.”

Sometimes, at nights especially, Eren wondered how that girl was doing, if she was even alive. Being a slave in Rome, mortality rates were high. Back then, she was working in a brothel, so was she a prostitute now? Did he maybe see her sometime when he was out drinking with his friends? Would he recognize her? Would she recognize him? No, he had to stop himself. This train of thought always made him angry, because it only reminded Eren of what his father robbed him. Maybe he could have had a best friend in that girl, just like Historia had in Ymir. Instead, he would never see her again.

Standing up abruptly, the eyes of everyone present swung at him.

“May I be excused, father?”, seeing the hint of irritation in Grisha’s eyes, he scrambled for an excuse, “I would like to take a walk with my lovely fiancé.”

That worked, so after being officially allowed to leave, he and Historia disappeared behind a corner where they shared a long exhale.

“God that was boring.”, Eren said, rubbing his forehead.

“You tell me. I almost fell asleep.”, she sighed, “I wanna do something fun.”

Now that was a language Eren spoke well.

“I’m in. Let’s grab some friends and live it up! Where did you leave Ymir?”

“I think she’s in a pub here somewhere, not far.”, Historia grinned, “Not like Ymir will be hard to find.”

Eren mirrored her smile, remembering just how loud the tall girl could be.

“You’re right. Let’s go then.”

Two of the taverns they checked lacked the Ymir factor, but the third one looked promising. Right from outside, they could hear loud voices, and when they entered their suspicion was proven right.

“I’m just saying,”, Ymir shouted over the ruckus, “You would look great at the chariot races!”

“I don’t think I’m good enough driver to…”

“Wait, who said anything about the driver? You would be pulling the chariot!”

The table erupted into laughter, while Jean, the butt of this joke, mumbled something and hid his reddened face into a cup of wine.

“That joke is so old…”, he sighed, but no one listened.

Ymir was the first one who spotted them, bolting from her seat and sweeping Historia in a hug.

“You’re finally here! We all missed you so much!”

When there was not any response from the table, Ymir turned towards it with a dangerous gleam in her eye.

“I said, we all missed you. Right?”

This time there were affirmative sounds from everyone. Nobody wanted to get on Ymir’s bad side.

Scooting over to make room for the newcomers, they ordered another round and the conversation flowed. Ymir wanted to know what their fathers were talking about, but Historia simply waved her hand and claimed that it was the usual boring stuff. While she was talking, Eren looked around, taking in this group of friends. He and Historia were the only highborn here, the rest of them were plebians. His father would never allow him to hang out with slaves, but he gritted his teeth and stayed silent while Eren surrounded himself with the lower class. It was a small victory, but Eren also genuinely found them much more interesting than any of the patricians. Now that he had the time to take everyone in, he noticed that one person was missing, so turning to Jean, he asked.

“Hey, where’s Armin?”

“Working tonight.”, his friend replied, trying to take another sip of the wine but realizing that his cup was empty. The discovery made him frown.

Armin was an interesting fellow. Part-philosopher, part-medic, he made his living by treating the filth of Rome. Slaves, lowborn, all these that would get rejected by any respected doctor flocked to Armin and he helped them all, whenever they had the money to pay for their treatment or not. In all honesty, Eren thought that Armin was probably the best person he knew, far nobler than him. The art his friend practiced, medicine, also highly interested him, but as with most things in life, Eren didn’t get a choice in his future career path. His brother was a soldier, so he was going to be a politician, Grisha decided. Easy as that. Which meant that Eren’s medicine studied were limited to the times when he visited Armin, trying to learn as much as he could form his friend.

“Do you know where he is?”, Eren pressed on, getting Jean’s attention, that was still focused on his somehow magically empty cup, back.

“It’s Uuuhh…. Hmmm….”

Eren had to suppress a sigh here.

“Come on Jean…”

“Oh right! He’s down in the pits tonight, treating the gladiators that get gutted there.”

The pits were a chain of tiny arenas where slaves, madmen and animals were pitched to fight each other to the death for the entertainment of the unwashed masses. It was like the Colosseum, only a hundred times smaller. Armin often worked there, as even the victors of these matches hardly ever escaped unscratched. The losers usually didn’t need medical attention anymore.

“You’re right, the pits could be fun!”, Jean went on, standing up and swaying only lightly, “Gang, let’s see some blood!”

As nobody wanted to be called a wuss for chickening out, they left the tavern in a sound of chairs dragged over the ground and the clink of coins, heading through the streets towards the pits. Jean led the way, as even drunk he could navigate the gutters the best out of them all. Eren fell in next to Ymir and Krista, the two of them inseparable as usual.

“I do hope that you are taking good care of my fiancé.”, he said to Ymir.

She turned to him with a wink, dropping her hand low and possessively squeezing the blonde’s butt, making her jump with a squeal and quickly retaliate with a well-aimed punch at the taller girl’s shoulder. This was the small secret that he and Historia had from their parents, who were so sure about their future marriage. Historia was, unluckily for her father, mostly interested in women, a fact that was rare but not unheard of. The problem was that while her family might not have that big of a problem with her orientation as it was, they would require her to have an heir. She was, after all, the only living offspring Reiss had. But that was a hurdle she and Eren would cross once they got there, and it was not here. Yet.

While they were consumed by this petty bickering, back and forth, Jean reliably led them through the labyrinth of Rome, finding his way with ease. Left here, right there, turn that corner and they were approaching their target, easily heard from the excited shouts that were up in the air.

With an excited shout, Ymir broke through the group, dragging helpless Historia with her, disappearing between the spectators. The rest followed soon after, their own excitement in various degrees. Eren himself had mixed feelings. He did not mind the duels, per se, but it was another business that was partly made up of slaves being forced to participate. The thing was in full swing, meaning that seeking out Armin right now was most likely impossible. He would be running between here and there, hands full of dead and injured, and hardly needed Eren to make his job even harder. With nothing better to do, he elbowed his way towards the edge of the ring, joining Jean at the railing.

“Hey.”, an unknown voice to his left, “You wanna bet?”

Turning, Eren saw a scrawny man with parchment and several purses hanging from his belt. A bookmaker. Before he could tell him that no, he does not want to place money on the lives of people, Jean butted in.

“Sure!”, he pushed past Eren, smelling of wine and sweat, “Who’s fighting?”

“The next bout is…” the bookie blinked at the parchment a few times, “Siren versus Cyclops.”

“Siren?”, Jean snorted, “Who the fuck takes such a name?”

It wasn’t unusual for the gladiators to have a nickname, some ancient beast or hero. But Siren was not a monster known for its martial prowess, so Eren had to agree with Jean here. It was rather strange.

“Oh, she didn’t choose this one, it was given to her.”, the bookie quickly supplied.

��So you… Wait a second.”, even with his wine-addled brain, Jean caught up on the unusuality, “She? Her? This fighter is a…”

“Woman.”, the bookie nodded, “But she is not to be underestimated.”

Laughing, Jean pulled out a few coins and handed them over to the bookmaker.

“Sorry, but I’m tight on the money now, so I’ll be taking the sure way. My coins are on the Cyclops.”, turning towards Eren, he nudged him, “What about you? Don’t want to make some easy denars?”

Maybe it was the old habit of disagreeing with Jean on almost everything, maybe it was something else, but Eren reached into his own purse, pulling out a generous number and putting them into the bookie’s eager hands.

“My money is on the Siren.”, he announced, making Jean’s grin widen.

“Dude, woman gladiators are a joke, don’t you realize that?”

Seeing that Eren was not changing his mind, Jean shrugged.

“Guess you don’t mind losing those then.”

“We’ll see how it goes.”, Eren answered, turning back towards the arena. Just in time too, as the combatants were being ushered in.

First in was the Cyclops, large and imposing scarred man, armed with a net and a trident. Raising those weapons, he was greeted by booming shouts coming from all sides, probably a fan favorite. Then the challenger appeared. The woman was lightly armored, most likely relying on speed over brute strength. She was armed with a short sword and a dagger, holding these with an experienced grip. The full helmet on her face prevented Eren from seeing her face, but her body was lithe and crossed with several prominent scars, marked just as her opponent was. She didn’t generate nearly as much hype as he, and there were several laughs heard from the audience. Eren and Ymir were probably the loudest supporters, cheering her on. Cheers or laughter, Siren didn’t seem to care either way, completely ignoring the crowd and keeping her gaze on the opponent.

Once the signal was given, Cyclops was the first to move, poking at his enemy with the trident, abusing the reach he had over her closer ranged blades. But Siren was too fast, easily dodging and batting aside the strikes, moving between them, fluid like water. A few minutes into this dance, the crowd was getting bored, and demands for more action were thrown into the ring. If there was no blood, there was no fun. While Siren ignored those, just as before, Cyclops obeyed, abandoning this safe approach. He stopped using the net as a shield and utilized it as a weapon instead, swiping at his opponent. It was easy to get tangled in it, and once Siren would be caught, a single trident stab would end her. The problem was, she did not get caught. Turning on the aggressive mode, she weaved in between his attempts, slashing at him. Not drawn too close, Siren’s attacks were shallow, more like scratches, but they still hurt and the blood that colored the sands was a proof of it. Cyclops was getting desperate, None of his attacks connected, it looked like he was striking a ghost. The metallic teeth of his trident were always late, the net too slow and clumsy to capture someone as elusive as her. Overwhelmed, Cyclops screamed in defiance before betting it all on a single last thrust, putting all of his might behind it. And for the first time, he aimed true. The spikes of his trident hit Siren in the hip, leaving behind three identical red paths, dripping blood. Unluckily, this also put him directly in her face with nothing to block. Cyclops had about two seconds to celebrate his luck when a short sword was slammed right into his throat, toppling the large man over. Stunned silence followed.

First one to wake was Ymir, shouting her support even louder. She laughed, hugging Historia while her eyes quickly found the bookie, gesturing for him to come closer. Jean on the other hand let out a tired “Fuck me.”, before dropping his head to his hands. Siren herself took a step back, cleaning her blades on the dead man’s body. Hooking a hand under her helmet, she pulled it off, shaking her hair free and revealing her exotic visage. The way the sun glistened on those midnight strands prompted another comment from Jean, who stirred from his defeated slump.

“Damn, would you look at that.”, he said, half-turning towards Eren, “Now it’s easy to see why they call her Siren.”

The girl was indeed alluring, just like the mythical creature, even with her face twisted into a dark grin. Making a very rude gesture towards the crowd that doubted her, she reserved a single wave for Ymir, her loudest supporter, before turning away and ducking into the old door that led into the bowels of the pits. Free from her spell, now that she was gone, Jean moved his attention to Eren, now fully.

“Well, there goes my savings. Say, my good friend, now that you won, would you lend me some coins? It’s not like need them anyway, right? Eren? Eren!?”

But the lucky bet winner did not hear any of that. He was staring at the door where Siren disappeared, completely obvious to his surroundings. Why? Because he knew that face. He knew those almond-shaped grey eyes, albeit now they were much wilder than before. He knew that dark hair, now chopped short, not nearly as long as it was before.

He knew who Siren was.

#aot #snk #fanfic #eremika

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sendrickbecs · 4 years

Text

Unspoken Feelings (1/8)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26259739

It's unspoken. But it's there. It's always been there, ever since they first met eyes at the activities fair two years back. The undeniable connection between Beca Mitchell and Chloe Beale sprung from a small glance shared between the two on Beca's first day on campus to singing in the shower together, (both naked – and wet), and ever since then the connection hasn't stopped growing. It's undeniable, yet it's still denied by the two seniors. Everyone else can see it – hell, even the girl's parents notice the lingering touches and the longing stares – but they refuse to admit it.

Because admitting it would mean talking about it. Talking about feelings has never been something that Beca has been comfortable with. Growing up in the Mitchell household was tough, it was continuous arguments and unspoken apologies, it was having emotions but not allowing yourself to feel them. Beca's parents never talked about their feelings, unless it was their opinions on a particular Tv show or whether or not Beca was allowed to get a dog, (She was not). So, her parents lack of communication meant Beca grew up in a home (it was more of a house) where she was taught that expressing your feelings was a sign of weakness.

Beca doesn't want to be seen as weak so she builds rather high walls around herself and hides her true emotions from everyone, but also herself. She doesn't allow herself to feel.

Chloe, on the other hand could talk for days about literally anything to literally anyone, but when it comes to the girl's feelings about her best friend, she can't express a thing. It's like her mind is too full to process a single thought. And sometimes the redhead thinks that's how Beca makes her feel – full – content – happy. But she doesn't allow herself to actually feel those things. Because feeling would mean admitting and admitting would mean talking – something neither of the girl's are good at.

It took Beca weeks to admit that she had an internship at a recording studio because she's 'weird about that stuff' so admitting that she felt something more for the redhead than just friendship would definitely take some time.

. . .

As the brunette glances up at her best friend she catches her eye and they share a smile, one that grows on each of their faces when they notice the other isn't looking away. Normally that's their thing – Beca looks at Chloe, admires her and cherishes her beauty but as soon as Chloe looks up, Beca glances down, acting as if she wasn't just staring at her best friend. Chloe does it too, but she somehow manages to be a little more subtle than the brunette by faking an interest in something across the room or pretending to examine the state of her nails.

They finally tear their eyes from each other, because they have to at some point, although it's clear that neither girl would object to only looking at each other for the rest of their lives.

Their gazes land on the rest of their friends; The Bellas, who are looking up at them with slightly bored expressions. They have been in the auditorium for nearly an hour yet not a single girl has sung a word, much to their amusement – especially Emily, the youngest of the group. She seems to be even more enthusiastic about singing than Chloe if that's even possible. Chloe loves to sing, she thrives off of it, but the young Bella cannot go an hour without singing, which is why she looks about ready to explode.

"Does everyone remember the choreography?" Chloe asks, giving the group one of her famous and much loved (especially by Beca) Chloe Beale smiles.

Instead of a collection of mumbled responses, the girl is met with a chorus of questions and suggestions, one following after the other from nearly all of the girls.

Fat Amy is the first to respond, completely ignoring Chloe's question, "Can we get a snack first?" It makes Chloe roll her eyes slightly because the question is so typical of Amy, she's always finding time throughout rehearsal to sneak over to her bag and munch on a few tortilla chips, or make a trip to the vending machine just outside the auditorium only to return with fistfuls of snack sized chocolate bars.

Chloe is about to tell Amy that there's only fifteen minutes left of rehearsal so she can wait until it's over, but then another Bella pipes in.

"When are we going to sing today?" Emily asks, her eyes shining with desperation, the urge to sing growing stronger with each passing minute. The youngest Bella is adored by everyone – Amy has mixed opinions – but there are times where Chloe wants nothing more than for her to crawl under a rock and die. They will sing when they have perfected the choreography. And Emily, with her freakishly long giraffe legs is very clumsy – her moves are quite far from, as the former captain would say, 'two steps away from being almost fine' so the girl had a lot of improvements to make before she even thought about warming her voice up to sing.

"You're just as bad as Aubrey with the cardio." Cynthia Rose huffs, which causes Chloe to scrunch her nose up in frustration. She is not very good at handling negative criticism and the Bellas seem to very persistent in handing it out today.

Chloe likes to think that she's a better a capella captain than her blonde best friend because she had a lot of control issues to overcome and she could also be kind of a bitch to the rest of the group if they weren't doing it how she wanted it done. The fact that Beca was quite often on the receiving end of Aubrey's bitchy remarks always riled her anger. Ever since she met the girl and walked into her shower she felt the need to protect the small brunette, not that she needed protecting, Beca had quite the punch on her and her badass exterior was enough of a shield, but Chloe still wanted to have her back when people looked at Beca the wrong way or made a comment about her style – something Aubrey did an awful lot in her first few months of being Captain.

"Aubrey's cardio wasn't that bad." Stacie retorts with a suggestive smirk, which breaks Chloe from her downward spiral.

The other co-captain's head snaps up at the words. 'Only because you were getting special treatment from the bitchy blonde' Beca thinks, smirking to herself which makes Chloe turn to look at her with a knowing smile. It's like sometimes the two girls share the same thought process.

Lily mumbles something that is missed by everyone, but it was definitely something about a dead body, possibly multiple.

Chloe loves the Bellas, they're her family, but sometimes she wants to tell them to 'shut the hell up' and go all Posen on their asses by making them run laps around the auditorium just to prove to them that she isn't as bad as the former captain of The Barden Bellas. But when she catches a glimpse of the scowl a few metres away from her, she's reminded that she is the mellower one of the two co-captains.

"Two-minute break." She announces, which receives a few cheers and a sigh of relief from the Asian Jesus of the group. "How's it going?" Chloe questions once she's walked around the table and is now leaning behind Beca, peering at her laptop screen where Beca's music technology is displayed.

"Do they realise how hard it is to work on the set whilst they're complaining about everything?" The girl with the headphones around her neck lets out a groan.

Chloe laughs, the sound instantly bringing a smile to Beca's lips. "Your complaining is just as bad." Chloe mentions, "I was trying to work on some new dance moves last night and you were whining the entire time because I was distracting you."

"The dance moves were distracting." Beca admits as she lifts her headphones from around her neck and places them on the table in front of her, giving the redhead her undivided attention.

The older girl's lips quirk up into a smirk, "Well, if you were watching me for long enough for it to distract you then you'll know them well enough to demonstrate them to everyone." She says and stands up straighter, reaching her hand out towards Beca. "Come on, Bec."

There is a moment of hesitation from Beca as she assesses her options, she can either latch on to Chloe's hand and let the girl guide her to the middle of the auditorium where they rehearse the dance moves together. Or, she can say no, and be the cause of Chloe's upset once again. Beca decides that she isn't opposed to dancing with the redhead, especially because quite a few of the moves are pretty sexual, which means she has to dance against her.

It gives her an excuse to touch the other girl without it having to mean anything, so Beca accepts the hand and jumps up from the chair.

Before walking away with Chloe, the brunette spins around to her laptop and gets up the song that she knows Chloe was practicing the dance moves to the day before in the living room of the Bellas house.

All of the other Bellas are watching them more closely now, but Beca doesn't care. She's focusing on how her hand feels in Chloe's, just how right it feels. When they reach the centre of the room their hands part, only for a few seconds before Chloe brings her hand up to Beca's waist.

Beca is too fixated on the way Chloe's hand slips onto her waist, edging the material of her tank top upwards and resting her hand on the brunette's bare skin. It lightly tingles under Chloe's touch as she runs her thumb over her hipbone. The younger girl's breath hitches in her throat and she's forced to swallow, attempting to fix her breathing pattern.

Why the hell is she so worked up by this? Chloe is her best friend – nothing more.

"Beca." Her name roles off Chloe's tongue, snapping her out of her thoughts. She immediately looks up and her orbs lock onto those bright blue beauties she likes so much. Beca can barely process a single thought, Chloe's touch possessing her in a way that's so familiar – she has been under the redhead's control so many times but each time her mind fogs up like it's the first time she's ever been touched by the girl. Chloe clears her throat, catching Beca's attention once again, "Your hand."

Beca swallows but the lump in her throat doesn't go away, so she coughs instead. "What?" She mumbles once she's managed to clear her throat. She lowers her eyes, not capable of holding the contact knowing how intense the redhead's gaze can affect her.

"Put your hand on my shoulder." Chloe instructs, her tone is soft, showing Beca that she isn't demanding her, but the younger girl still does what she's told, unable to say no to her co-captain.

Once their hands are in the right places on each other's bodies, Chloe directs the dance move, taking control of the movement, rocking hers and Beca's bodies back and forth, creating friction between their bodies.

"Holy shit." Is all Beca can say when the movement comes to a stop.

"That was hot." Stacie comments, her eyes wide in thought.

Even though Chloe would never admit it out loud, she thinks it was hot too, having Beca touch her like that stirred something deep inside her, something she only wishes to explore more often. She just wants Beca's hands to return to her body, to relight the fire that's slowly flickering away since her hands were removed only moments ago. It's no secret that both girls' are blushing furiously, almost matching the colour of Chloe's long locks.

"I think I need a cold shower." Stacie mumbles, earning a glare from the shorter brunette.

Beca is trying to remain calm but the dance she's just done is replaying on a continuous loop in her head and the comments from Stacie are really not helping the matter. Especially the mention of a shower – that only causes Beca's mind to wander back to freshman year when Chloe entered her shower unannounced, how they sang titanium and harmonised so perfectly together. The thought of Chloe's naked body is making Beca's cheeks heat up all over again.

The other co-captain is having similar thoughts as she reminisces the particular shower that started it all. It was the first time she had heard the small, standoffish 'alt' girl sing, and Chloe loved that she was the first person Beca opened up to. She never sang in front of anyone – Beca had admitted that two weeks after joining the Bellas, but Beca was naked, wet and singing with her – for her.

"Stacie, shut up." Beca scoffs, her jaw clenching.

Chloe giggles and leans down to place a chaste kiss to Beca's cheek which makes the brunette's blushing intensify, she groans lightly at the contact even though inside it's causing heart to beat a little faster and adrenaline to pulse through her veins.

"Becs, you're so flustered." She whispers with a smile. The brunette groans once again, making everyone laugh but Chloe's giggle is all she can hear.

It's all too much for Beca – the touching, teasing, giggling, intensifying her hidden emotions. But what ultimately finished her off was the kiss to the check. Beca melted as soon as Chloe's lips and nose came in contact with her cheek.

"Okay, find your partners." Chloe calls and Beca is so thankful the attention has shifted from her.

Instead of joining in with her partner, Beca heads back over to her allocated table where her laptop and mixing equipment are already spread out. She takes her seat and quickly shoves her headphones on over her ears, blocking out the sound of the girls giggling as stitches plays through the speakers around the room. She doesn't want to hear that song, because if she listens to the lyrics she'll think of a certain redhead, which will lead her gaze to drift over to where she knows she's running through the choreography. Beca doesn't want to think about Chloe because then she'll think about the tight leggings and sports bra she's wearing and once that is drilling through her mind, she will want the real thing. She won't be able to keep her eyes away from the redhead across the room.

If she stares at Chloe in tight gym clothes whilst she's dancing to very sexual routines, then she'll be forced to admit – forced to acknowledge those feelings that she's buried so deep beneath the surface. So Beca fixes her gaze on a spot on her laptop screen, not allowing herself to drift her eyes upwards.

Chloe has always loved performing. The rush of adrenaline she receives from performing with the Bellas grows each time. The bigger the performance, the bigger the audience, meaning the bigger the adrenaline rush.

But she loves performing for people more than anything – for one person in particular – Chloe loves performing for Beca.

Dancing with Beca was hot – so fucking hot – and she loved how exhilarating it felt to allow her hands to explore the younger girl's body with so much passion and longing.

It was as if the connection between the two of them was finally being brought into the light, they were slowly beginning to accept it and Chloe truly thought this was Beca's way of communicating with her, telling her that she feels it too.

So Chloe decides to perform for Beca. She shakes her ass a little harder and runs her hands down her body for longer than usual (taking a page out of Stacie's book). Her smile present on her face throughout the entire routine and her excitement growing as the song was coming to a close.

Chloe looks up one final time with pure determination lighting up her face, she's smiling – her famous Chloe Beale smile that she knows Beca has always found irresistible. She's so sure, she's never been so sure about anything in her life. This is it. This is the moment where she's going to finally express everything she's kept bottled up for the past two years. She's going to tell Beca how she feels once and for all.

But when she looks up and her favourite pair of eyes don't meet her gaze, her stomach flips – not in the loving someone so much that their smile makes my heart flutter and butterflies erupt in my stomach kind of way but in the uneasy kind of feeling because she's hit with the realisation that Beca hasn't been watching at all.

She's been performing for Beca, building up the routine until she's finally ready to reveal her grand gesture. Only to find out that Beca wasn't watching her.

Beca wasn't watching her perform.

Her smile drops from her face and it feels like she's been slapped – slapped so far into reality that she finally realises that everything she thought she had with her best friend has been a figment of her imagination. She wanted Beca to look at her, to watch her – to love her – so badly that she's seeing what she wants to see. She thought Beca had returned those feelings. She was so sure. But now she knows – understands – that none of that had been real.

She just saw – felt – what she wanted to be true.

"Okay, that's it. Well done guys." Chloe says, clapping with a slight smile on her face when she calls the end of rehearsals. The smile was nothing more than fake – but she's going to have to get used to fake feelings so why not start now? She has to admit, she's proud of the Bellas and how far they've come. Aubrey appointing Beca as the captain is one of the best things she could have done, and Beca requesting Chloe to take the role as co-captain is also pretty great. Except for when Beca is in one of her 'distant and cold' moods and she won't let Chloe comfort her. Every time she gets pushed away by the brunette it breaks her heart a little. But she doesn't push her and she certainly doesn't pry so Chloe allows Beca to feel – or not feel – however she wants without questioning it.

"Hey, Chlo." Beca calls from where she's loading her laptop and mixing equipment into her laptop bag. Her co-captain spins on her heels and approaches her at the table. She's been friends with Beca long enough to know how Beca puts up her walls when she wants to hide her emotions, so if Beca can do it, she can too.

"What's up, Becs?" The redhead asks sweetly, twiddling her thumb ring whilst she waits for Beca to finish packing up her equipment.

"I won't be back at the house till later." The brunette says, adjusting the strap of her bag over her shoulder and standing up from the chair she's occupied for the majority of rehearsal.

It's in Chloe's nature to be curious, especially when it comes to Beca, she wants to know everything about her – in a totally not possessive/psychotic way of course. She just wants to be the one person in Beca's life that knows her better than anyone else. She just wants Beca. And wants Beca to want her back just the same.

So that's why Chloe catches herself hesitating, she wants to ask why Beca has been so distant lately, why she's not returning her missed phone calls or why she's missed the last three Bellas movie nights. Chloe's missed having Beca next to her on the couch, where the brunette's feet would slowly edge towards Chloe's lap and the night would end with the two girls' bodies pressed closer together than when the movie started.

But deep down she knows it's this god forsaken unspoken connection the two shares. Beca is being distant because that's all she knows, and Chloe knows she should prod Beca until she finally stops running away, forcing her to talk. However, just knowing how much that would hurt them both stops Chloe's thoughts from adapting into real scenarios.

Not talking is just...safer.

It's safer because this way neither girl is hurting the other, but Chloe is still hurting. She's hurting so fucking much because Beca won't even look at her.

"Okay," Chloe retorts, her lips quirking upwards into a smile. Beca nods, not even bothering to look up at the redhead, which sends a punch to her gut.

It's too painful for Chloe to watch the younger girl walk away from her once more so she spins on her heels and exits the auditorium first, not waiting for Beca so the two of them can walk across campus together – another one of their unspoken understandings which happens after every single Bellas rehearsal.

- - - -

Also on wattpad: @writteninbechloe

#bechloe #bechloe fanfic #bechloe fic #beca mitchell #chloe beale #pitch perfect #anna kendrick #brittany snow #fanfiction #pitch perfect fanfiction

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sevman49 · 3 years

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I promised myself to write about my pilgrimage south to meet the woman I believe I now belong to. The Woman I Believe I Belong To. Sounds like the title of a country song. I'll write it later. I'm inspired. I went to meet her and planned on spending the weekend if we hit it off. That was my hope. I ended up staying two and a half weeks.

I'd like to tell you more about her, how beautiful she is, how well off she is, how she became so well off, describe her elegance and the environment she inhabits. But I'm not allowed to. I can't tell you her name, not that you would recognize it if you aren't a local. She knows I will write about her, and will allow it only if my discretion is absolute. I understand why it's necessary, I just can't tell anyone else why. I'll just refer to her as She and Her. I can't even describe her house or it's location, that would give her identity away. She is known and she is important. And powerful. And secretive.

As I wrote earlier, she wanted a wife, she's not gay, she wanted a male wife. A companion who would handle all the so called wifely duties in the household. Keeping it clean, doing the laundry, do the cooking and serving, be her confidant and company, amuse and entertain her, obey her, be her sexual toy and tool, keep my mouth shut and my opinions to myself, and most importantly, be prepared to be fucked, battered, trampled and physically and mentally womanhandled when she returned home every evening. I had no problem with that. And one last thing, be invisible to the outside world. I would never accompany her in public and when she had visitors, I would be locked away in a very private room built just for that purpose.

So, what's in it for me? In no particular order, these are my benefits. I would be fucked, battered, trampled and physically and mentally womanhandled by this exotically beautiful, lithe, flowery but firm gynarchistic minded female every day and night. I would be her very secret, forcefully confined, oft beaten, heavily disciplined wife who sucked her dick ( or the female version of that) any time she snapped her fingers. I would live well and be well taken care of by her and be monetarily rewarded on a monthly basis. All I had to do was whatever she said and keep it all to myself and her.

I would maintain my own residence back home and live my normal life there whenever she traveled for business purposes, which would intermittently add up to about to about 6 months out of the year. When she departed I would slip out in my new sports car in the morning darkness to drive home and slip back in the same way upon her return. We have it all worked out. It's doable and I'm excited about it. I'm to give her my final assent when she returns home in 3 weeks. I already know yes is my answer. But there are things I need to think about before I sign the contract regarding our nondisclosure agreement and the financial terms I would agree to.

Har! I would do it for nothing! But I won't tell her that. I DO need income of some sort after all! Might as well consider this my dream job. I should ask about insurance benefits also. I could get hurt doing some of the things she has in mind for me. Again, I'm ok with that!

What things, I imagine anyone asking? I shouldn't say, but, fuck it. Let's talk about the last two and a half weeks. During this part, I'm going to reveal how I came to be as submissive as I am. Why it's a part of me I couldn't change if I wanted to. And I don't want to. It's who I am, as long as I remember, and I'm most at home and comfortable in this state.

No one who knows me now knew me when I was growing up. My life before my college years was a thousand miles away from here. My father, before he passed away when I was 7 years old can best be described as a reclusive yet hugely successful financial genius. He saw trends others didn't and invested in what are now universal corporations with well known brands and worldwide recognition. With his blossoming fortune and his disdain for populated areas, he bought the land others considered wilderness and built an estate for his family where our nearest neighbors were 60 miles away. The everyday items people shop including food and substance were delivered to us on a weekly basis. There were people employed to take care of things so we had contact with these people but otherwise we lived by ourselves, like rich pioneers in uninhabited areas. There was him, my mother, then in a 6 year period 3 children. My older sister two years my senior, then me, and two years later my younger sister. We were all born into isolation and it's all we knew. We had all the amenities other kids grew up with except television, we just didn't know the other kids. We were diligently home schooled 3 days a week by Miss Kerr, a young teaching assistant who had a room of her own in our home who stayed with us Monday through Wednesday teaching us about scholarship and society in a variety of subjects.

Now for the facts of life about what made me who I am today. My mother was a beautiful woman even by today's standards, and she was an early day Female Supremist. My earliest memories are of her as the boss of our household, the absolute ruler of my father, who did whatever she told him to do and if he didn't, she was quick to punish him physically and mentally. Not behind closed doors but in the presence of my sisters and I. Father never complained, he just took his punishments and apologized for angering her. Mother was a slapper and a spanker. She never forgave a misstep by him and took no pushback nor excuses. Just instant correction we witnessed a thousand times. Mighty slaps that sent him staggering backwards apologizing while she advanced on him landing WHAP after WHAP like a well trained prize fighter. This was everyday life for us. My sister's and I couldn't even imagine a world where a male was even equal to his partner. We all knew my future role in this family. My sister's sure did and they would strive to be the woman my mother was. They just needed the go ahead from Mom. They got it when Father had a heart attack and was gone in the blink of an eye. After a week of mourning and services Mom called us into the parlor for a family meeting. I knew my life had changed by the seating arrangement she dictated to us. Her and my sisters on the couch on each side of her, and me on the floor sitting at their feet facing them. I wasn't shocked, what else did I expect? My life as a male was about to take shape. But there was, indeed, a surprise I never saw coming. And she led off with that. My sister's were equally caught flatfooted. But, it meant something different to them, and it made them smile when it was spelled out to them.

"Stephen", she began, " You are now the man of the house. You've always been like a son to me (well, of course, thought I) but the time has come to tell you this. You are my adopted son. We love you as if you were born to me but we adopted you at birth and raised you for this very situation, in case your father , your adopted father, passed on. When Kate was born, we decided to adopt a male to serve her and for her to train as she matured. We were certainly glad we did when Cindy was born two years later. She also needs a male to train. You are sitting at our feet for a reason, Stephen, do I have to spell it out any further?"

There I was, a seven year old boy, receiving the news of the world, that my whole existence was a lie, that I was brought into this family to become a servant for my sister's when the time came, and that they really weren't my sister's. Imagine the shock and trauma I should have felt. Here's what I felt instead. I'm sitting on the floor with 3 females sitting over me, each now putting their feet on me and none of them are related to me. I remember that as my first intentional sexual hard on in my life.

"No, maam, I get it" Ex-mom smiled and told me she was proud of me, that she always knew I was a good boy. My older now stepsister had her foot resting on my shoulder and I asked her if I could lick her feet. She nodded, pleased as punch, and covered my face with both feet. I did that to mess with my 5 year old stepsis. She was actually gonna be tougher than her elder sister. In time.

There's a lot to tell about the path my life took for the next 10 years.but, I digress. That's another story and I'm anxious to relive it as I look back on how it shaped me. And led me into the life of servitude with a remarkable very respected socialite that no one, not even you know about yet.

I could keep on and tell you what I expect, but I'm heading back to her tomorrow, so I'll just let the realty dictate from here. I hope I have a good story for you.

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seriouslyhooked · 4 years

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When We Collide (Part 1)

Emma Swan has always known one thing: trust no one but yourself. Unfortunately she forgot her one rule and now she’s paying for it. One bad decision led her to the monstrous ‘Crocodile’ a mobster in New York who goes by the name Gold. Hope seems lost until she meets another person in this underworld, Killian Jones. Despite the place they find each other, a true love blossoms, and they manage to get away. But what will happen when Emma discovers who Killian really is? Will love prevail? Um, yeah, I’m writing this, so duh – it’s all love all the time. Fic features motorcycles, hot guys in leather cuts, and a bit of action/drama. Will end happily, and despite the first chapter, will be light on angst. Available on FanFiction Here and AO3 Here.

A/N: Hey everyone! Surprise! There’s a new fic I’m here to share with you all, and full disclosure, it is very different than my usual fare. You will be able to tell that from this first chapter, and for some of my readers it might be a bit too much. Not to worry, this is just a prologue of sorts, and next chapter will start in a brighter, more hopeful place (we will flash forward in time). Be advised that there is no graphic violence or anything like that, but the premise of this story involves Emma owing a debt to Gold (a mob boss in New York) that she has to pay. She’s working it off in a bar, but she’s not exactly free to go as she does. That’s a lot angstier of a situation than I ever like to deal with, so it’s temporary, but want to give you all the heads up just so you know. I suspect a lot of you will read this and think it’s not that bad, but I figure it’s best to give everyone the heads up. Anyway, I promise that this story will eventually be just as fluffy and feels-filled as my other stories, and I hope you’ll give it a try, even if you decide to skip this chapter and just join for the next. Also, just to shout out the excellent song that partially inspired this fic, you should all listen to the song ‘Collide’ by Tiana Major9 & EARTHGANG. It’s a really beautiful song, and I hope the fic can embody the feel of it as it continues to unfold. Thanks so much for reading, and hope you enjoy!

Maybe I’ll get lucky and everyone will forget I’m back here, Emma thought to herself as she counted up the bottles on the shelves, taking a quick inventory of what they had for the bar out front.

She also needed to keep this count to protect herself. She’d learned a few days into this gig that Gold’s men loved their liquor and they had a tendency to come back here and take it. Instead of letting them do that and then allowing her and her coworkers to take the blame, Emma came up with a system including locks on the door and an electronic documentation of what they had and when. There was no wifi hook up, obviously, as Gold made sure to keep a strict lock on their surroundings, but it did provide an timestamped trail that proved she was taking nothing from this place. Every night she cashed in her tips with Sydney, the bar’s ‘owner’ but really just Gold’s front man and lap dog, and she watched as the debt she owed grew smaller and smaller. In six more months she’d be free of this and she was doing anything and everything she could to shorten that time.

Thinking about her debt made a flare of anger rise in her belly. Truth was this wasn’t even her fucking debt, it was Lily’s, a woman Emma believed to be her friend. They’d met when they were still kids, both of them runaways, and though time had driven them apart, they reconnected when they realized they were both living in New York. Emma had managed to get steady, honest work and was doing her best to claw up from the nothing that she’d started with in life, and she thought Lily was doing the same. Boy had she been wrong.

It turned out that Lily didn’t pay her part of the rent with anything resembling clean money. She’d worked for Gold, and then she fucked him over and ran, leaving Emma none the wiser and thrust into the fallout of a crime she’d never committed. When that moment came Gold gave her two choices: pay off the money he was owed, or suffer a bit before accepting and still paying, but in a less desirable way. Emma chose the former, and she gave everything she had to the man, but it still wasn’t enough. Lily had managed to get off with almost 50k, and while that was chump change to Gold, it was more than double Emma’s savings. Still she’d promised to get him the money, to give him every paycheck she could, save for her rent and food expenses. But it didn’t satisfy the Crocodile, as people were prone to calling him. Gold decreed that she’d work in the bar and that was that. She’d also been ‘moved’ to one of the apartments above the place. But none of her actual belongings ever arrived. All she had was work uniforms and bare essentials. There was no TV, no phone, no nothing. She’d been graced with tattered linens, the most basic of household essentials (as in one plate, one fork, one of everything) and a bunch of dusty books on ranging topics left from tenants past. She also had a chip on her shoulder, created from the unjustness of this whole situation, pushing her to get out of this shit as fast as she could.

“Yo, Emma, you coming back at some point?” A voice asked from the doorway. It was one of her coworkers, a guy named August who she’d never had much to do with. He seemed pretty okay, but then again, he was here working for Gold and he didn’t even seem to have the whole debt-pay off factor going. That was a huge red flag, and one of the reasons Emma never trusted him much. “We got customers.”

“One minute,” she said, and waited until the door swung closed again. Knowing she was along she closed her eyes and took some steadying breaths, gearing up for what would no doubt be a terrible night.

It’s temporary. You just have a few more months. You’ve survived worse. You can survive this too.

When she felt strong enough to put her mask in place and face the raucous debauchery that awaited her outside, Emma squared her shoulders and headed out. Her eyes had to adjust quickly to the dimness of the lighting, and she took in the stronger scents of stale cigar smoke and piss that always clung to this place. No matter how much they cleaned after hours, there was no getting rid of the odor or the grime. This bar was better off burned to the ground and completely built over, but to the men who frequented it, this place was the closest thing they had to home. The Lair, as the neon sign outside advertised, was a total dive, and it was filled to the brim with low-rate mobsters and criminals.

This was one of those places that Hollywood constantly tried ripping off to no avail. In some ways it was completely corny and predictable, and so blatant in its criminal ties that it felt like a joke that everyone was in on. But the embellishments and adornments here were over the top and gaudy, too tacky even for a Las Vegas casino. Gold’s namesake was splashed everywhere, from the countertops to the barstools to the curtains on the back walls. When the finishing got gross and dirty, they’d be replaced, but the style was dated and straight out of the 70s. It was a mobster hideaway with no pretensions, and Emma always thought to herself that the cops should be busting in every night. This was an obvious den of misconduct, but no cops ever came. The reality was that Gold had half the police force in his pocket, and the other half were too scared to cross him for fear of what he’d bring down on them. Gold might be ridiculous and over the top, but he was powerful, and more than that he was smart, so smart Emma knew better than to ever try to run and think she could get away with it.

“Well, well, well. Ain’t you lookin good tonight, sweetheart?”

Emma fought the instinct to roll her eyes at the slurred and shouted words that crossed the bar top over to where she was standing. Two months into her captivity here, and Emma knew better than to let her baser instincts win out. Despite how gross this man was, and how underwhelming he was on any metric of attractiveness, Emma couldn’t cave to her want to blow him off. Doing so was a risk, and if she had any chance of surviving this hell hole, she could not afford to take those.

“What can I get you, Mr. Black?” Emma asked, ignoring the stench of sweat and booze that mingled with the man’s cheap aftershave. She looked at him for only a second before looking down again, knowing her best bet was to try and blend into the background and let these men set their sights on the women who actually wanted to be here.

“I’ll take a night in bed with you, darlin’.” Emma chocked down a gag but flashed an insincere smile as she shook her head.

“You know the rules, Black. I work for Gold in a strictly drink-serving capacity.”

“Damn waste if you ask me, putting talent like you up in the bar.”

A waste? Emma considered it a small miracle. Since the day that Gold’s men had swarmed her apartment with guns drawn, looking for Lily, Emma had been completely at the will of a monster. She knew from the second they apprehended her and brought her back here that she could be destined for anything. People talked about Gold in this city and there was no crime he was too good to partake in. He had brothels all over the place and a stake in the skin trade. He ran drugs and guns, made people disappear and black mailed anyone he could. He had no moral restrictions, and no love greater than the one had for money and control. He owned this city in almost every single way, and if he chose to, he could make her life even worse than it was now. So much worse. It sent a shiver up her spine to even contemplate some of the things she’d heard whispered about. But Gold, as dark and twisted as he was, did have a code, and he’d briefly explained it to her the night she was brought in.

“I’m a man who collects his debts, Miss Swan, but I am also a man who sees a whole story. You had nothing to do with Lily’s betrayal, I know this. You’re collateral damage, a source of collection through no fault of your own. The debt must be payed, but since you yourself have never wronged me, I’ll be good to you. You even think of crossing me, however, and you’ll live to regret it.”

Emma knew the truth when she heard it. Her gut was never wrong. Even with Lily, the problem wasn’t that Emma had missed her true colors, she’d just chosen to ignore the telltale signs of a problem person because she really had no other friends. She hoped that Lily may come around, that she’d get better and really try and make a go of things in an above board way, but with Gold there was no doubt as to the veracity of his threat. If he felt Emma was disloyal, he’d punish her, and if at the end of this there was any doubt that she’d turn on him, she would never be free. She had to be picture perfect in her actions. A pretty, polite prisoner who served their time and then kept silent. She was ready to do that, she just had to stick to her plan and keep her head up in the meantime.

As she made Mr. Black’s drink and got caught into the flow of the bar, serving men their beer and liquor until they all got drunk as hell, Emma counted down the seconds until the night would be over. She gathered her measly tips, and kept them guarded close, and she knew that tonight would be like every other. She was trapped here, in this darkness, destined to be unhappy but determined to survive. When she was free of this she’d go as far away from Gold’s hold as she could. She’d find a cabin somewhere, live a quiet kind of life, and she’d never put herself in this kind of position again. Her lesson had been learned – she could trust no one but herself, and though that was a totally lonely sensation, she had to try and accept it or risk hurting herself all over again down the line.

Suddenly, in the midst of the normal night’s activities, the front door blew open and Emma felt a tingling of anticipation when it did. She hadn’t looked in that direction all night long, never liking the people who would dare to enter here, but her instincts were screaming at her to turn around and look. She had no idea why, but when she obeyed the internal command, she was shocked into stillness, caught up in the sight of the man who’d just walked in.

Tall, dark, and fiercely handsome, this man was sin personified and so much better looking than the other thugs that came here every night. He didn’t look out of place though, aside from his attractiveness. The clothes he wore were made of leather and spoke to some dangerous intent. He made no show to hide the side arms he was carrying, one on his hip and one strapped across his chest, and the scowl on his face made him seem hard and unapproachable. For a moment, Emma had the chance to take him in, and despite the fierceness of his expression, she felt a flutter low in her stomach.

His chiseled jaw with the well-trimmed beard he had was hot, as was the symmetry of his features and the way his broad body clenched and she could see his muscles. But if someone were to ask her what stood out most about this mystery man it was his eyes. They were blue, like the ocean in places she’d only read about. They weren’t icy or cold, but warm somehow and so thoroughly enticing. She felt herself lost in them, and then he looked at her, their gazes connecting, and that sensation grew so much stronger. She felt a kind of pang echo through her ribcage the moment he took her in, and she watched as the hardness of his face shifted ever so slightly. It was a small tell, most people wouldn’t have noticed, but Emma did, and she knew that he felt this too. Whatever the hell this was – the man who’d just arrived was just as captive to it as she was.

“Ah, Captain, you’re here!” One of the regulars said, laughing and flailing about as only truly drunk men did. “Didn’t think we’d ever get you to The Lair. Thought you was too good for us.”

The man they called ‘Captain’ tore his gaze from Emma and moved over to the man who’d called him over. His stride was measured and almost graceful, and Emma couldn’t help but follow him with her eyes. This was so unlike her. She made it her business not to watch anyone too closely. The less she knew about what everyone was really up to the better, but she was intrigued by this newcomer in a way she’d never been before.

“Boss wants to see you, Alvin. Something about the McManus shipment.” Alvin blanched at the comment and swallowed harshly and Emma knew for certain that this man was in trouble with Gold. She didn’t have much sympathy for Alvin, and in fact most of her intention was focused on this stranger, who had the touch of an accent she couldn’t quite place. His voice was silky and low, tantalizing in a way, and she wanted to hear more of it. “Perhaps you’d like a drink for the road. Not sure when you’ll have the chance for another.”

“Bring them this,” Sydney said, materializing from nowhere next to Emma. She jumped at the unexpected intrusion into her thoughts, and looked at the two glasses.

“Is this rum?” she asked dumbly and Sydney nodded.

“The best. Captain likes the good stuff.”

“Right,” Emma said, moving over with the tray to the table where both men sat. When she got there, she was struck speechless again. Being so close to this man only added to the allure. He was even more interesting close up, and she lost her head a little bit at the sight of him, but tried to pull herself together as best he could. “Your drinks, gentlemen.”

Alvin took the drink and downed in, but the stranger took his time, glancing at her over the glass and nodding. He didn’t smile, but his eyes conveyed a warmth he’d shared with no one else here. “Thank you, love.”

Knowing she couldn’t linger, Emma moved back to the other tables, continuing her work, but when she noticed Alvin and the mysterious man standing up to go a few minutes later, she felt a dash of disappointment. He was leaving, and she didn’t even know his name.

Okay, seriously? What the hell Emma? He’s one of them. He works for Gold. You don’t care about him. You can’t care.

The voice in her head scolded her for her fanciful thinking and this completely mistimed attraction. It was so foolish to think of him as anything but a threat, but her heart lurched at the thought. She was overcome with these weird feelings. Being so drawn to a man so quickly had never been her style. Certainly not now when she was in survival mode. But as she turned around to fill a tray with empty glasses on one of the far tables, she felt a presence behind her. She whipped around too quickly, only to run into him, and if it hadn’t been for his steadying hands, one on her arm and the other on her tray, the glasses would have shattered.

“You all right, love?”

“Um,” she licked her lips as her eyes darted up to and she nodded once. “Yes. I’m fine.”

“Good. Just wanted to give you this,” he said, handing her a tip. It was generous. Like a couple hundred-dollar bills generous. It was way more than their drinks had been and way way more than she could ever accept. It felt wrong, but there was a part of her that was desperate to keep it. This would put her that much closer to freedom. It was almost a week she wouldn’t have to work. Still she pushed it back at him.

“I can’t. It’s too much.”

“It’s hardly enough,” he replied ardently and her brow furrowed as she looked at his face, the earnestness on it clear as day to her. “I know these men, love. There’s no way they give you what you’ve earned. Not tonight, not ever. So please, take it.”

“Okay,” she agreed after a moment’s hesitation, feeling gratified by the fact that she had earned this, even if he wasn’t the one who should have to pay. “Thanks…”

“Killian,” he filled in before she could decide to use the nickname that Alvin had called him by.

“Killian,” she repeated, tasting the name on her tongue and loving the way it felt as it passed through her lips. “I’m Emma, by the way.”

“Emma,” he replied with a grin that was there and gone so quickly she would have missed it as she blinked. As it was, she knew she saw it, and that look was even more breathtaking than the rest of him. No one had a right to be that sexy. No one. “Well, until next time, Emma.”

With that, he turned and walked away, cold and composed once more as he led Alvin out of the bar and headed off into the night. And though Emma knew very little about him, she had a feeling she’d just met someone very important. Through the mist of all the new emotions and excitement, she sensed, deep down, that this man – Killian – mattered, and that somehow, someway, their fates were intertwined, destined to lead them back to each other in one way or another.

Post-Note: So there we have it! This is a short glimpse into the fic, kind of like a prologue if you will. Next chapter will flash forward a bit, because this honestly was angsty enough for me to write. I do not want to dwell in the bad circumstances Emma finds herself in, and instead want to get us to a fluffier, if still a bit wilder place than I am used to. As the description says this will be an MC (motorcycle club) romance, and we’ll reveal how that will come to pass in the next few chapters. In the meantime, I would love to hear what you all think! This is a break away from my usual fare, and pretty much the opposite of the other fic I am currently writing, but I have wanted to write a story like this for a really long time. I’m eager to share the rest of this fic with you all, and hope you will join me on this fun new journey. Anyway, thanks for reading and hope you have a great rest of your day!

#captain swan #captain swan fic #captain swan au #cs fic #cs ff #cs fluff #cs angst #cs au #cs mc au #cs motorcycle club au #emma swan #killian jones #gold is a bad guy #the whole storybrooke gang #ouat au #when we collide #when we collide au

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tamtam-go92 · 4 years

Text

And that concludes Pleasantview-Widespot-SSU fall 2

I just wanted to leave you some notes around what happened this season and the year before ;)

Beare Family: Allegra was first trimester pregnant when the season started and the two of them welcomed their first child, a daughter they named Maya into their lives. Also their lot (it’s the former Dreamer home) experiences a weird bug where there would always be a light snow outside even on warm days. I hope that bug vanishes once it starts snowing in winter.

Burb Family: John and Jennifer aged up into Elders this fall. Jennifer has an affair going on with her co-worker Jared Starchild, but she hasn’t met him this season.

Caliente Family: Don and Nina are climbing their careers. Their daughter Ariana grew up into a child. As an explanation: Nothing of this really was planned. I didn’t want them to become a classic married couple with 1,5 children, a picked fence and a dog. It was all their own doing. Don and Nina both rolled a want to get married during a date. And guess what? After getting engaged they went straight for the next sofa and tried for a baby. I was freaking out when I heard chimes. During Don’s next round I quickly fulfilled his first LTW to woohoo 10 sims so he could get married to Nina the next season. And they did. In their wedding night Don was abducted by Aliens because he needed a logic point for his career and somebody thought it was a good idea to buy the expensive telescope... So I relocated them to a bigger lot and here they are...

Dreamer Family: I know DarrenxCassy gets a lot of hate, but I like them together. They are a very rounded couple in my game and were blessed with an other son, Damian this season. That’s they last child, as Cassy is growing old next season.

Goth Family: Ever since Frida was born, Mortimer and Dina were constantly trying to try for an other baby but I always canceled the interaction. Morty wasn’t getting any younger and I have a one elixir of life per sim-rule and he drank the rest of his in summer. But somehow sims always do what they want and Dina got pregnant through risky wohoo... great... Now they had a son called Moss and Morty died the same evening his son was born. At least he was able to meet his youngest child before death and he was surrounded by family (he also died in platinum aspiration).

Nova Family: Tiffany and Castor are constantly trying for a baby but so far no chimes. I’m not sad about it, since those two are really broke af. Luckily Tiff finally found a job in the medical field. But Castor is still on the search. They won’t get married until Tiff is either pregnant or Castor has a job.

Oldie Family: I skipped playing Herb this season. He’s waiting for Ivy and Orlando to graduate.

Pleasant Family 1: Guess what? Kaylynn got herself abducted this season and since I’ve got a mod that allows female alien pregnancy she gave birth to a little alien boy I called Parker. When Daniel found out that Kay was pregnant again, he retired. He really tries to be a better dad to his sons and helps Leonardo, who is struggling with school, with his homework a lot.

Pleasant Family 2: That’s such a funky household, it’s so much fun to play! Candy has a little bakery she tends on her days off at the restaurant. Val and MS are the cutest couple ever, but have never woohooed! I like that little detail about them. Stone grew into a teen and he’s now a Romance/Fortune sim (after both his grandpas). His LTW is to be a space pirate.

Starchild Family: Heather started off 1st trimester pregnant and gave birth to a little boy during the round - Alonso. Sam and Ty are eagerly trying for a baby too, but no luck so far. They took in the last crops of the year and gave a lot of their crops away to friends. They all are quick to climb the career ladder.

Traveller Family: Nothing interesting happened this season tbh... Laurie really wasn’t planned, again risky wohoo stroke but I’m super glad to have her, she has the cutest little face ever!

Upsnott Family: Those two really are driving me nuts! They are broke as hell and can’t find a proper job. I didn’t like Brit getting pregnant so soon, I couldn’t throw them a wedding party since they had literally no money for the wedding arch. They could merely afford the crib for their baby! And then... they had twins *face palm*. Yeah, a girl and a boy called Matías and María José. I have no idea why the name generator dropped two Spanish names. Luckily at least Josh found a job in the criminal career and can now support his family. The twins also grew into toddlers and they look so cute (broken face template...)

Beech Household: It’s really difficult managing so many students, but they all are doing pretty well. The love triangle between Virginia, Woody and Goldie seems to be interrupted by River, who really has the hots for Ginny. She still has higher chemistry with Woody, but Woody prefers Goldie. Goldie, Ginny and Scot graduated the last day of fall. While Ginny moved back in with her parents and Scot moved in with his boyfriend, Goldie temporarily moved back in with her older brother. But she’ll eventually move in with Woody.

Bright Household: Everything’s good here. I always wanted Lucy and Lilith to be close but in fact... she’s closer with Dirk... Lilith graduated the last day of fall and moved back in with her mother. I’m super exited what happens when she meets Ashley Pitts (knowing their chemistry they share in @katatty’s game...).

Freshman Household: Dixie threw herself a graduation party on the first day of fall and moved in with her fiance. Angela graduated mid-season and moved into the old Broke-Trailer on her own where she’s waiting for Dustin to graduate. Tina and Isaiah have a little something going on, they already did so as teens (they are best friends since their childhood) but neither of them is really for settling down and exclusivity.

Land Household: Alex and Delta met at Lucy Burb’s farewell party and they had such a great chemistry that I had to make something out of it. And of course they savaged each other first things after moving in together. Don’t know where it’ll lead, they just had their first real date but I’m excited.

Oldie Household: They are not so interesting to play as they are very studious and don’t have much contact to the outside. I tried to give Orlando a bit of an NB story and his outfits change between male and female each season.

Beech Family: Daytona has used the last bit of elixir of life so she passed away this season. Sandy has a small clothing store in Widespot that is a lot of fun to play. Hamilton is almost top of his career. Grey grew into a teenager and he’s a Pleasure/Romance sim. That’s gonna be some fun!

Gavigan Family: Such a cute family. But they are a lot like the Travellers, not much is going on for them except for careers and kids. It’s so funny that some families just get one gender as kids. I know a lot of families in real life that are the same!

Hart Family: Penny and Rhett have a really good relationship but both tend to stray sometimes (Penny once had an affair with Don Lothario (of course)). Snow is Skye 2.0. I gave him an alien eye heterochromia, since he’s got nothing from Penny’s alien heritage and I thought that was pretty sad... Rhett and Penny both grew into elders and Rhett topped his career fulfilling his LTW. His new LTW would be to become a professional Party Guest, but I guess that’s not gonna happen. Snow then grew into a teen, becoming a Knowledge/Romance Sim (after his grandpas).

Land Family: I skipped playing Beulah for the same reason I skipped Herb Oldie. At least River is gonna move back in with her after university.

Mann Family: This is such a hectic household... I struggled with getting Rich into golden aspiration so he could have some of the elixir of life, he really needs it. And guess what? I laughed so hard when that fourth baby of Mary was also a girl. But they called her Lana after the decreased grandmother she’ll never meet and Rich is super caring. I’m totally surprised, that he’s such a caring grandfather to all of the girls but he always tucks them in and plays with them. Oh! And of course Ira grew into a teen! She’s now a Pleasure/Family sim.

Roseland Family: Arg, this family has really grown on my heart. I always love Brandi and her kids and I struggle so much finding a perfect partner for her. But when she met Cyd over a mutual friend they had perfect chemistry. Sadly they didn’t get along at first but soon it clicked and now they are joined at their hips. They shouldn’t have had Ella, their calculated amount of kids was three but I just couldn’t deny the mutual have a baby want... Beau will go to college next season and Skip grew up into a teen being Romance/Family like his big bro.

Stacks Family: Those two are constantly trying for a baby, ever since Martin came from College. But somehow Jane isn’t as fertile as I’d expect from a Family sim. On the last day there were finally chimes! Selina is... something. She has a really sharp face, I think because of Martin’s broke face. Her cheekbones could cut through glass!

Swain Family: Dixie moved in with Erik and Jimmy on the second day of fall and they had a wonderful wedding party two days later. Jimmy takes Scot for dates every second day and Scot has rolled a want to get engaged (of course). Erik has a locked want to have a baby, but Dixie wants to find a job first.

#tamtam talks #long post #long text post #pleasantview-widespot-ssu #pleasantview #sim state university #widespot #fall 2

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dashesofink · 4 years

Text

The Expected Meeting

Pairings: slight Kili x Ianthe (my oc)

Word Count: 5.7k

Warnings: none

A/N: so I finally decided to post my oc story on here, especially after thinking about it a lot during my hiatus. Quick disclaimer that she is clearly a made up character in this world, and everything related to her is mostly made up. Hopefully I’ll be incorporating her into my writing more, especially if y’all like her. Please let me know!! Also this has sat in my drafts for a very long time, please ignore the typos :)) Also I’ll be posting an update in regard to The Speaker soon, so if y’all have forgotten about that keep looking forward too it!!

Taglist: @legolaslovely @t00-many-th0ughts @fizzyxcustard

Ianthe wasn’t expecting to have her nap time interrupted by a loud banging against her cottage door. But alas, her groans filled her bedroom as the knocking continued. “Alright, I’m coming!” She knew that if her father hadn’t already answered the door then he was probably out tending to the gardens, or if not that, then he was out in the main court having a meeting. As she threw her legs over the bed she stretched her arms over her head, a satisfied moan falling past her chapped lips when the bones in her back cracked and settled again. Ianthe was sure that the few framed photos on the wail were now on the floor due to the incessant banging. Much to her surprise though, as she exited her room and scurried to the front door, everything was still in place.

“What in Mitéra Gi’s name is— oh, hello.”

Ianthe felt a deep blush settle on her freckled cheeks as she craned her neck, her bright eyes locking with her new company. A grey pointed hat sat on top of a long mane of grey hair, and hidden beneath the rim of the old hat was a familiar face, one that Ianthe and the other Mages in her rank knew very well. “Gandalf, it is quite a surprise to see you here!” Ianthe’s lips spread into a smile as she stepped aside, allowing the tall wizard to enter. Gandalf gave a small hum as he removed his hat before stepping inside. “Would you like some tea? I’m sure we have some of your favorite lying around somewhere.”

“That’s quite alright, thank you my dear.” Gandalf gave a chuckle when Ianthe’s round cheeks raised, her lips pulled into another dazzling smile. He watched as the young mage hurried into the kitchen to put the kettle on. Gandalf always did like the company of Mages; such a hospitable race who had a wonderful knack for making the most marvelous tea and cakes. But snacking on sweets and tea wasn’t the only reason he came to visit the Mages on that afternoon. “Ianthe,” Gandalf called, his keen old eyes dancing around the little cottage. “is your father around?” The cottage remained silent for a moment as Ianthe worked on the refreshments. Gandalf took this opportunity to survey the household once more, his gaze falling from an overfilled bookshelf to the small umbrella stand that held a few staffs before his eyes landed on a little wooden box. A box which could barely contain the glowing light of two small gems. Gandalf chuckled at the odd placement for the gems.

The silence lingered for a moment longer before Ianthe responded, and she reentered the room with a small tray filled with cakes, cookies and some freshly brewed tea before letting out a small hum. “I believe he’s tending to the garden.” She dusted her hands off after placing the tray on to a small table. Ianthe smiled up at the wizard as he snatched a cake and a cup of tea, her hands now resting upon her plump hips. “If not then he might be in a meeting. May I ask why, mister Gandalf?”

Curiosity filled the eyes of the young mage. She watched as he ate away at his snacks for a minute, his lips drinking down the sweet tasting tea before he finally spoke. “I have a proposition for you, Ianthe.” The aura in the room shifted from one of joy and merriness to a solemn one after his words. Ianthe’s lips formed a small frown and her eyes shifted from one side of the room to the other. The little cottage creaked and groaned as the ground under their feet shifted, and Gandalf gave the young mage a knowing look when he saw a faint yellow glow form in her eyes. “Please, my dear, it’s nothing to get worried about.”

When Gandalf’s hand touched Ianthe’s shoulders the groaning stopped after her eyes shifted back to their usual blue ones. She twisted the silver rings around her thick fingers as she peered up to the wizard and her feet padded lightly against the stone floor as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “Then what is it about, Gandalf?”

The old wizard took another sip of his tea before clearing his throat, his cup hitting the tray with a small clang as he set it down. “How would you feel about joining me on an adventure?” The thought of exploring the world again caused a surge of excitement to course through Ianthe’s body. Her lips pulled up in a large grin and she bounced up and down almost instantly. “Please, now, don’t get to excited. You don’t even—“

“Oh Gandalf, I can’t help but get excited!” Ianthe’s glee filled laughter echoed throughout the small cottage. Her body was buzzing with joy as she danced around the room, her hands stretched high above her head. Her brown hair danced around her shoulders and slapped her in the face as she whirled around, just the thought of getting out into the world again made her feel like she was flying. “I haven’t explored the world in ages! And here you come, saying that you'd like me to join you on an adventure?! It’s a dream come true!” Gandalf was quick to grab her by the shoulders as she danced passed him, his eyes shining with amusement as he tried to hold the young mage still. “Oh please, tell me; when can we leave?”

“You don’t even know what this adventure is about, Ianthe.” Gandalf gave the girl a knowing look. Ianthe tried her hardest to contain her glee, her teeth biting down on her lips as she gave him a quick nod to continue. “Now, I’m sure that you are aware of a dwarf named Thorin—“

“—Oakenshield, yes! Father told me about him!”

“Good.” Gandalf nodded in approval at the Mages words. He made a mental note to speak with the Elder Osier before departing from the Mages again. “The time has come for the dwarves to reclaim Erebor, Ianthe. Thorin Oakenshield is gathering a group of dwarves to join him on this quest— to take back their mountain from the dragon Smaug— and he has asked me to find a guide, as well as a protector, for his company.” Ianthe’s eyes blew wide as he explained the purpose of his adventure, her mouth parting with awe when he told her of the dwarves quest. Ianthe could only recall one time in her life where she had met a dwarf, but that was nearly sixty years before, and she was still a young and impressionable mage. However she would happily interact with more if it meant exploring the world again. “Would you be willing to join Thorin Oakenshield’s company as a guide to Erebor?”

“Me?” Ianthe couldn’t believe her little ears. It had been long since she wandered the lands last. Despite her rank of Mages being a wandering rank, the Elder— her father— had decided it was time for them to find another forest and rest. That was nearly two decades ago. The longer Ianthe stayed put in her village the more her bones ached to be out in the world again. Her excitement, however, slowly dwindled upon realizing something; what would her father say. Being an Elder meant that anything that was to happen inside or outside of the rank was to be approved by him first. And being an elderms daughter was no exception. “What of my father?”

“He will approve.” Gandalf gave Ianthe a reassuring nod, his fingers squeezing her shoulders before he let go of her. Ianthe chose to ignore his choice of words. Her smile appeared again, and it seemed that the air in the room grew light when she laughed a joyous laugh. “A meeting has been set for the end of this week. Do you know your way to the Shire, more importantly Bag-End?”

“The Shire…” Ianthe’s eyes darted around the room as she thought. It had been years since she had heard of the little area, her mind drawing a sudden blanket before she squeezed her eyes shut. Gandalf watched silently as the mage tried to remember, his eyes catching the veins popping out on her temple before she let out a cheer and opened her eyes again. “Oh yes, the Shire! We visited that area almost thirty years ago!”

“Wonderful.” Gandalf gave a single hum of approval before he turned away. Almost as if a dog was nipping at his heels, Gandalf made for the door after grabbing his hat, but not before snagging a few more sweets off of the tray. Ianthe followed close behind him as he exited the cottage, her bare toes just stopping at the grassy lawn in front of her. “I would suggest you prepare your things quickly,” He added over his shoulder, turning suddenly to the left in search of the Elder. “You must be there before the meeting ends. A mark will be on the door, a blue rune.”

Ianthe nodded along to Gandalf’s instructions. She watched as the wizard paused before turning back, a small smile pulling up his lips when he caught the twinkle in her eye. “We’ll be expecting you, dear Ianthe; don’t be late.”

“Never! I will see you then, old friend!” Ianthe pressed against her toes as she waved, watching as the wizard disappeared behind a few cottages before she turned back to her home. She couldn’t contain her excitement anymore, a loud laugh echoing against the wooden walls as she closed the door. Her body was buzzing as she bounded for her home, her hands fidgeting with the lock on her chest before she yanked it open to grab a large pack. Her once tidy room soon became a mess as she stuff her things into her pack. An assortment of spell-books and herbs were shoved inside the heavy-duty bag, followed by some random clothing and a small vile of deep blue liquid that oozed of a sweet smell. She paused for a moment to suck in a deep breath, her hands falling on to the top of her chest as another small laugh feel from her lips.

Ianthe couldn’t believe that she would actually be exploring the world again. She couldn’t seem to remember the last time her eyes fell upon the ever-green forests that grew through the vast lands, or the grey, steeping mountains that added a wonderful texture and feel to the earth. She could feel her magic surge through her body at the thought. How she longed to breathe the crisp mountain air, or to run her fingers along the rough bark of trees she hadn’t seen in ages. “Focus, Ianthe.” The Mages gave her freckled cheeks a small tap before she shook her head, the large grin on her face never leaving as she once again began to pack for her adventure.

The closer that Ianthe got to Bag-End the more her nerves began to talk to her. It had been nearly four days since she departed from her village, her old green cloak wrapped securely around her shoulders and her heavy pack resting against her back. The staff in her hands was old yet sturdy, weaving branches holding a single stone of greens and blues shining against the moonlight that lit her path. Despite her anxiety Ianthe hummed a small spritely tune, one that her father had sung to her as a young mage. A sad smile grew in her lips at the thought of her father. Before she had left the village and her rank of Mages Ianthe had to make sure that her father knew of her quest. But Gandalf had beaten her too it.

Ianthe remembered the way her father's face grew solemn and the wrinkles that lined his face deepened when she met him again that day. Her heart clenched and she reached out for him, pulling him into an embrace. It was then that she decided against going; Gandalf would have to find some other mage to guide the dwarves to Erebor. Ianthe couldn’t just leave her father. It was true that the Elders had their advisors and warriors to watch over him, but Ianthe was his daughter, his family. She couldn’t just up and leave the one who had cared for her and raised her because she wanted to explore again. At the mention of her deciding against going, much to Ianthe’s surprise, her father’s frown seemed to grow.

He knew how restless she was becoming and how she longed to be out in the world again. Osier would miss his daughter, yes. But he knew that she would be of better use to the dwarves then she would be in the rank. “Go. Explore the world and see what it offers you once again.”

“But father—“

“I will be fine.”

Ianthe shook her head, trying to rid her mind of the negative thoughts as she came to a short stop. The grip she hand on her staff tightened as her eyes looked over the horizon of the Shire. Many of the Hobbit were asleep by now, dark tendrils of smoke climbing out of their chimneys as their hearth kept their little homes warm. Fireflies danced across the many gardens and fields that literally the Shire, making it appear that stars had fallen from the sky and were twinkling over the land. The peaceful sight brought a smile to Ianthe’s face again, and she sucked in a deep breath before continuing on her journey. The moon was high in the sky, and she was sure that she had missed the supper that her company’s host had probably provided for them. But that didn’t matter. She had an apple or two in her pack. That would keep her satisfied until morning.

For the time she spent wandering through the Shire in search of her host’s home, Ianthe’s humming hung in the air like pillowy clouds. However despite her cheery tune and chipper smile, her feet ached from her long journey and though her magic had been revitalized from her weaving in and out of the forests and hills, her body longed for rest. Lucky seemed to be on Ianthe’s side though. She felt herself relax and the tension in her shoulders disappear little by little when she saw a glowing rune stand out against a green door. Her lips twitched as she neared the hobbit-hole. Finally. She found herself thinking, her feet suddenly carrying her and her heavy pack quicker to the entrance of the hole.

Ianthe found herself taking the steps that led to the door in twos, and if it wasn’t for the staff in her hand she would’ve fallen against the green door. She smiled down at the familiar rune before she looked to the shiny round doorknob. If his front garden and flowers were kept so pristine and healthy looking then surely the inside of his house looked just was clean. Despite the excitement that was buzzing around in her body again Ianthe found herself hesitating, her curled fist just brushing the wood of the round door. Her bright eyes looked to the ground for a moment, her eyebrows knitting together before she reached up and tugged her hood over head. The rim of her hood just reached the bottom of her eyes, leaving her freckled nose and pink lips visible.

“Just knock.” Ianthe found herself gripping her staff tightly with both hands. Her nerves were chewing at her gut, and her hands tingled for a moment, a familiar surge of magic running through them as her anxiety spiked. “Knock and get it over with.” Gathering as much courage as she could Ianthe slammed the top of her staff into the wooden door, the sound of stone and wood hitting each other drawing whatever heated conversations were being held in the hobbit hole to a sudden stop. Ianthe made sure to keep her eyes hidden when the door opened a few seconds later, a hobbit with curly brown hair and an irritated look on his face popping into her view.

“Oh,” His eyes blew wide upon taking in her appearance. “Y-you’re not a dwarf.”

Ianthe chuckled at the hobbits comment, her hood bouncing a bit when she shook her head in reply. She remained silent as the hobbit stood aside to let her in, and she made sure to brush her boots off on the mat before stepping on to his wooden flooring. A warmth spread through Ianthe as she looked around the homely hole, her eyes dancing between mud-stained rug and the beautiful arched doorways before she found herself looking back to the hobbit. He was staring up at her in awe, his lips parted. Ianthe chuckled at the sight, the sound knocking the hobbit out of his trance before he shook his head.

“Oh goodness, where are my manners!” The hobbit scolded himself, and looking back to his new guest he gave a small bow. “Bilbo Baggins, at your service, Miss…”

“Ianthe.” She finally introduced herself. The mage watched as the hobbit tried speaking her name, a small smile forming on his lips when he watched her nod encouragingly. Ianthe found her eyes wander around Bilbo’s home again, however this time she was drawn towards a warm light that seemed to be coming from the dining area. Bilbo must’ve seen the curiosity that ran through her, as her nose twitched ever-so-slightly when she turned in that direction.

“Everyone’s already in there.” He spoke from besides her, peering up to look at her for a second before his gaze darted elsewhere. “Gandalf said you would be arriving around this time.”

Ianthe chuckled at the comment, and she gave a small nod before heading towards the dining area. The tap of her staff and the click of her boots against the floor alerted the dwarves in the room of her coming, and Gandalf let out a small chuckle before pushing himself to stand. “And here I thought you decided against coming.” He spoke clearly, gaining the attention of each dwarf as he looked to the doorway. When Ianthe stepped into the light the company froze, each dwarf looking to this new member with a mixture of curiosity and slight contempt.

“And miss seeing the world again?” Ianthe quirked an eyebrow when she saw the dwarves flinch at her voice, but she brushed their reactions off as she turned her focus to Gandalf. “Never.”

“A woman?” Ianthe felt her blood freeze when a biting voice broke through the air, her eyes immediately landing on the brooding figure at the head of the table. Grey strands mixed together with deep raven hair that flowed effortlessly down the back of this dwarf, his deep blue eyes piercing into her as he looked between the wizard and herself. Ianthe could feel the tension in the room build the longer he glared at her, and for a second her confidence faltered, the grip on her staff tightening. “You’ve chosen a woman to be our guide?”

Gandalf breathed heavily out of his nose when he saw Ianthe shrink into a small corner, the shadows seeming to eat her up. He felt a surge of anger run through him when he looked back to the dwarf who had spoken, his eyes blazing. “You trusted me to find the only person who could guide your company safely to Erebor, Thorin.” Ianthe’s eyes widened at the name, and she found herself glancing between the wizard and the dwarf a couple of times before she settled her gaze upon Thorin. The dwarf in question let out a low growl, his eyes only dancing over to her small figure again before he went to challenge Gandalf. “She is as good as a guide as any mage I know.”

“No. I refuse to let any woman— a girl, no less— be apart of this company.”

“Thorin please be reasonable, you will need her more than you—“

“We do not need some girl on this quest, Gandalf.” Thorin’s tone was biting, his thick eyebrows casting a shadow over his blue eyes. The Dwarven leader looked between the old wizard and the girl in question, her bright eyes and freckled nose remaining hidden under her hood for the time being. He sized the girl up, looking between the old boots laced on her feet to the dark green cloak clasped around her shoulders. The fabric nearly brushed the ground, dirt stains and holes lining the edge as if being trampled on one to many times. Thorin looked back to her hands that were laced together in front of her, his eyes narrowing at the smooth skin of her fingers and the few silver rings that sat around them. Those weren’t the hands of a warrior.

The girl watched quietly as her old friend and the Dwarven leader argued, seemingly forgetting that she was present. She knew from stories that her father had told her that dwarves were stubborn in their ways, not really willing to open up to others outside of their kin. But man, did she underestimate what he meant. Thorin’s tongue was sharp, his words aiming to kill and dishearten the mage from wanting to join his quest. But she had made a promise to her father, a promise to go out into the world and protect those who needed it. And the dwarves needed it, she could tell. Her eyes surveyed the room of dwarves in front of her, taking in the wary looks they cast her way and the exhaustion that was slowly creeping up on them from their journey to the Shire. She frowned at this, her eyes casting to the ground before she sucked in a deep breath.

“If I may interject, Master Oakenshield.” The room of dwarves froze again when her smooth, accented voice sounded out. Everyone turned when the girl finally stepped into the light again, her fingers pulling back the edge of her hood to finally reveal her face. Her blue eyes were piercing as she looked around the room, her dark hair falling around her plump cheeks and just past her shoulders. Her dulcet tone reverberated through the small dining area, her lips turning down slightly when she set her focus back to Thorin. “Perhaps you would feel more comfortable if you knew of who I was?” Her head tilted to the side while she gripped the body of her staff, watching as the leader looked her over again.

She kept a stoic expression as he scrutinized her, taking in her apparel and lack of weapons. Not that she wasn’t armed though, he just didn’t know exactly where her weapons were hidden. After moments of speculation Thorin let out a huff, and crossing his buff arms over his chest he gave a curt nod. A ghost of a smile spread on the girls lips and after she straightened, her right hand curled into a fist before it rested against her heart, her left palm facing outwards as she pressed the back of her hand against her lower back. The dwarves watched as she gave a deep, respectful bow, her hair falling over to shield her face before she came back up again. “Ianthe, at your service.”

She could hear the odd dwarf in the room whisper her name, another small smile forming on her lips as she turned her gaze to Gandalf for a half second. The wizard gave her an encouraging nod before she turned back to Thorin, who’s face had hardened yet again as he watched her. “My family hails from a long line of Mages— Terra Mages to be exact.” As Ianthe went about telling her story to the leader, she found herself once again watching the dwarves for their reactions. “Long have we watched over the lands of Middle Earth, though it hasn’t been until recently that we Mages have settled deep in the forests.”

“And why is that, lassie?” Ianthe’s eyes darted over to an older looking dwarf, his kind eyes hidden slightly behind white bushy eyebrows. She found herself smiling at the dwarf, for she could see genuine curiosity swimming around in old, wise eyes. Though from the way he held himself and the knowing look he sent her, Ianthe could tell he knew exactly what she was and what her story was. “Oh, where are my manners!” The old dwarf gave a small chuckle before bowing at the waist. “Balin, at your service lass.”

Ianthe gave a small nod in return to Balin’s introduction, a grateful smile pulling up her lips before she turned away from him. “Decades have Mages spent their lives wandering the earth, protecting its people and the creatures that reside here.” Ianthe continued with her story, her fingers grasping one of her elbows behind her back as she looked around the room. “However the longer we wander, so our lifelines dwindle. The Elder Mages have decided it best for us to stop, to try and keep our lights from going out completely. But hope still remains for us.” Brown eyes suddenly stopped Ianthe in her tracks, a warm glow budding in her chest as she saw the kindness that swam in the orbs. This dwarf seemed different than the others, she noticed. His beard was kept short and stubbly against his jaw, his soft lips pulling into a gentle smile as he leaned across the table in curiosity.

“What hope is that?” Ianthe tore her gaze away from the dwarf as Thorin’s deep voice ran through her, her eyes meeting his before she cleared her throat.

“The young Mages.” She spoke clearly to him. Her hands suddenly fumbled with the clasp of the pouch that was clasped to her hip, and she dug inside the leather accessory before she pulled out a smooth gem. The crystal in her hand shone brightly against the candle that sat on the table, and the dwarves eyes blew wide when shining spots danced against the walls and the ceiling of the dining area. Ianthe looked to her right when she felt a small tug against her cloak, and her smile grew when she saw their host, Bilbo Baggins, look at the gem in awe. “It’s called Dýnami Zoís, or a Zōḗ Stone,” She explained, smiling fondly at the gem as she brushed a finger over the many glowing sides. “Each young mage, upon coming of age, is given a Zōḗ Stone.”

“A lifeforce.”

“Indeed, Master Baggins.” Ianthe felt proud to know that the hobbit knew a bit about the gems and their significance, her smile growing when she turned to see him looking up at her in awe. She placed a hand upon his shoulder before turning back to the dwarves and wizard, her eyes meeting a pair of dark brown ones again briefly before she turned away. “While Yavanna has given us our magic, the Zōḗ gives us our lives. And with our lives we protect those who need it.” To show her respect Ianthe placed the gem over her heart, as she had done with her fist a moment ago, and gave another deep bow. But before she had time to straighten up Thorin spoke again.

“And what do these stones have to do with your wanting to join our quest?” Thorin’s eyes were guarded again, his lips pulled into a tight line. He still didn’t quite like the idea of having this mage on his quest, and while he had heard of the stories of Mages wandering the lands of middle earth and he knew of their great power, he couldn’t seem to find himself agreeing with her coming. She was just a girl after all, she didn’t belong on this dangerous quest. Thorin held a breath, as did the rest of the room when Ianthe took a step forward, her hand held out towards him as she offered the stone to him.

“As the stone protects and guides my life, I shall protect and guide yours on this quest.” While Ianthe’s tone was quiet, barely loud enough for Thorin or the others to hear, it held a certain strength in it. The offering caused Balin to let out a sharp gasp, all eyes falling to him when he realized the severity of her words. “That is, if you shall have me, Master Oakenshield.” Ianthe ignored the shock that radiated from the older dwarfs body, her eyes locked in Thorin as he looked between her and the stone. His eyes drifted over to his advisor, his eyebrows knitting when he saw the look on his face, it was one of both shock and what appeared to be horror. Whatever Ianthe was offering him must have been something that the Mages considered precious. Would she really offer this lifeforce to join my company?

Ianthe held in a breath when Thorin looked back to her, her skin burning with anticipation while his blue eyes looked her over for the third time that night. It felt like forever had gone by before he spoke again, his head dropping in a single nod. “So be it,” His words brought a sudden, quiet cheer to fall past Ianthe’s lips, his eyebrow quirking at the sound. Soft ‘thank yous’ fell past her lips as she went to place the stone into his hands, but he was quick to shake his head, his hands curling into fists to refuse the precious gem. “If you are to be a proper guide and protector, you will need your stone.”

Ianthe felts a wave of excitement course through her veins at his words, her fingers curling tight around her stone as she nodded frantically. “Of course. Thank you, Master Oakenshield.” Her eyes inadvertently turned to the dwarves around the room, and once again she found herself looking to the brunette with deep brown eyes. His lips were parted in a wide smile as the blonde dwarf next to him spoke quietly, and suddenly she found herself blushing when he set her a wink. Ianthe’s heart thumped loudly as she looked away from him. What is this feeling? Her mind was racing with a million thoughts as she shoved her stone back into her pouch, but despite her precious thoughts of the quest all she could seem to think about now was the puppy dog-eyed dwarf with the soft smile.

“My dear,” Gandalf was the one to pull her away from her thoughts, his beard raising as he smiled softly at her. Ianthe shuffled her way over to the wizard, tossing Bilbo a grin as she passed him before her eyes traveled up the length of Gandalf’s tall figure before she meet his eyes. His hand landed heavily on her shoulder and the look in his eyes caused the smile on her lips to vanish, a sudden wave of worry burning in her arms and legs. Ianthe ignored the burning gazes that followed her out of the dining area, and for a moment she felt tempted to look back to the brown-eyed dwarf, but she resisted the urge while Gandalf pulled her to a secluded area in the hobbit hole. “Ianthe, I know how desperately you wish to help others, but offering—“

“I know what I am doing Gandalf.” Ianthe interrupted the wizard with a raise of her hand, the silver rings on his fingers glistening against the light. Gandalf gave her a stern look, but nonetheless he let out a small sigh while he held his tongue. “If my father has taught me anything it is to follow what the heart in my chest says and where the veins in my body pull.” Though the metaphor made little sense to the wise man, he understood how the Mages felt toward quests such as the one she was about to embark on. Gandalf’s fingers curled around her shoulder fondly, giving it a small squeeze before motioning first her to head back towards the dining area.

Ianthe gave the wizard a nod of thanks as she walked past him, her eyes glancing back into the crowded room as he meekly made her way back inside. The dwarves had settled down again, waiting for their earlier discussion to start once again until she entered, all eyes curiously watching her. Ianthe felt a blush form on her freckled cheeks, the sudden attention now causing her heart to race until another hand landed softly against her shoulder. It was Balin.

“Just sign here, Miss Ianthe.” He spoke, her eyes looking down to find a rolled piece of parchment in his fingers. Giving a single nod she grabbed the parchment before unrolling it, her eyes dancing across the long list of conditions until she reached the bottom. A quill was handed to her, a small smile forming on her lips as she went to sign it. However, she movements slowed to a stop when she glanced up again, this time her body freezing when she met the intense gaze of her Dwarven admirer. He appeared to be waiting for her to sign it, excitement being clear in his expression as he clasped his fingers together. She had to admit, the dwarf she couldn’t seem to get out of her mind was handsome, and the aura that oozed from his body was one that she had never quite seen before. He intrigued her. The two kept their gaze fixated on each other, her round cheeks darkening and her emotions swirling with each passing second while his heart raced wildly in his chest.

It wasn’t until a hard cough sounded in the room did Ianthe tear her gaze away from the young dwarf, her cheeks a permanent red as she looked back to the contract. She scribbled her name on to the line in a hurry. Ianthe watched as the older dwarf accepted her contract graciously, her blue eyes once again drawn to the brown-eyed dwarf as the other scanned her contract.

“It’s all here,” Ianthe quickly looked towards Thorin when Balin finished inspecting her contract, his eyes dancing between his nephew and the mage for a moment before he let out a low grumble. He shot his youngest nephew a stern look before gazing Ianthe. The mage was practically buzzing in her spot from excitement. “Welcome, Ianthe, to the company of Thorin Oakenshield.”

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imtryingthisout · 5 years

Text

Sunglasses and Serenity

[a fic inspired by @nachosforfree @sanderssides-magicalgirlau check them out]

[Warnings: Descriptions of a Panic Attack]

[Pairing: Sleepxiety]

[Word Count: 2283]

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It was not a quiet night. The sky above was dark, the pearly stars hidden behind the neon verbosity of downtown. 24 hour shops and businesses had windows that never dimmed, pinpricks of artificial lightings blurred together creating an abstract mess of blended color.

The moon itself was distorted by the light pollution. It’s natural autumn glow paled in comparison to the vibrancy of the busy streets.

Remy both loved and hated it.

Growing up with summers spent in his family’s old Villa in Italy, secluded in a valley side miles away from the nearest approximation of a town, he had always known how the sky was darker blue than black. He and his cousins loved to climb upon the rooftop and find the stories hidden in the stars. The earth around them was quiet and peaceful, but never silent. The symphony of crickets and other night creature laid in the background of every night spent there. A distant murmuring, Tellus’s lullaby.

Moving to the city had been akin to dunking his head in a bucket of ice water and screamo pop.

Shocking, painful and utterly disorientating. But after the ringingness faded- strangely exhilarating.

Remy has thrown himself headfirst into the city’s night culture. Staying up late partying, trying all the best coffee houses, hanging around the hidden-and-not-so-hidden drag shows,gaining a reputation and a caffeine addiction along the way.

But this was not a night where he would be going out, not when everything he needed was with him.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Virgil really was a sight to be seen, his skin was pale, like the white-petaled sunflowers that grew by the valley, that seemed to glow in the moonlight. But his starkness fit in perfectly with the gleam of the industrial lights. Heterochromatic eyes, green and purple, stunning as murano glass and pulsing as strobe lights.

Achingly familiar, yet enticingly foreign. Home and longing rolled up in one boy, a boy who has stolen one of his sleep shirts for his own nefarious (adorable) use.

And who probably wanted an answer. Quick Remy, think of some witty remark to be entertaining!

“You ever notice how bright it is sometimes?”

Damn it! Guess we’re being genuine.

Virgil quirked his head to the side, giving Remy a piercing look, before nodding his head slightly . “Yeah,” he said, “Used to overstimulate the crap outta me when I was younger.” Then he paused, debating with himself over continuing- but decided to press forward. “Is that why you always wear those stupid shades?” The last words said in jest.

A surprised laugh escaped his through before he could stop it- Virgil almost reaches out to comfort him, but tensed up, too many bad memories stilled his arm.

“Girl, I’ll have you know these are designer glasses right here” he made a gesture around his face, “Iconic one of a kind Remy Hypnos Original Shades. Don’t go dissing my brand babes”

Virgil just snorted and rolled his eyes, “Uh, I’m pretty sure the designer thing on your face are those-eye bags you have hidden under there.”

“Damn right, even the bags under my eyes are Gucci”

“Oh Gods did you steal that off tumblr you sleep-deprived asshat? Oh don’t give me that look you totally did.” Virgil’s words had started off biting, but slowly devolved into a giggling mess.

(He really was just too cute for this world, Remy thought)

“Oh Ha ha, laugh it up” he snapped, ignoring his blushing cheeks and hot ears.

(Virgil could always tell how flustered Remy was by how red the tips of his ears were. A dusty pink for flirty, A warm rouge signaled embarrassment or arousal. Virgil loved watching the colors bloom on his skin. Memorizing what each shade meant- he could take any cochineal-colored paint swatch and map out Remy’s mood in the margins. It made him so easy to read, and so much fun to mess with.)

Soon the laughing and jeering subsided, and Virgil turned to look at Remy, “But seriously man, Is that why you always have those things on? Photophobia?”

“Can’t it be enough that I look rad as all Hell’s in them?”

“Not with that deflection it can’t” Virgil wasn't giving up it seemed, so Remy let out a deep sigh and gathard his words. “Remember highschool?”

“Kind of hard to forget.” High school was an absolute trainwreck for Virgil, he’d been on and off meds that screwed with his moods- making the already hormone fueled circus that was over a thousand teens trapped in one building, like a pack of sardines- even more emotionally taxing.

But if High School was a disaster for Virgil, it was absolute Hell for Remy.

Remy and his cousins had been homeschooled by their many relatives since they were children. Growing up learning in his family’s study. Rich mahogany floors, dim golden lighting bouncing off the variety of nick-nacks and treasures that line the shelves. Learning to read in his grandfather’s library, his worn and wrinkled hands guiding his young fingers along the words.

His cousin Alessia longed to go to a public school, and pleaded with her mother for ages before she relented. With the condition that she would allow her to go- but only if one of their own went with her.

So Remy, proving himself as her favorite, offered to accompany her.

The blinding smile on Alessia’s face as she squealed thank you , thank you amata cugino, favorito benedetto, was totally worth it. ‘It’s only one year’ he thought, ‘how bad could it be?’

Until he actually got there.

Virgil could think back and recall in semi-perfect clarity the day Remy Hypnos graced the halls of Sandershore High. Roman had become a central hub for gossip , and he’d heard whispers that of new transfer students, which in of itself wouldn't be news. But Hypnos was a household name, owning some of the most ridiculously pretentious Itialian Restaurants in the country. The kind people got engaged at, those levels of nice.

Needless to say when Remy and Alessia strolled into Sandershore’s gate. With perfect olive skin, rich brown hair and clothes nicer than Virgil’s single mom income could ever afford. Virgil fell in hate easily.

(The kind of hate that has him staring at him out of the corner of his eye during Calculus. Thinking about what his eyes looked under those darkened glasses. The kind of hate that wasn’t really hate)

Remy had all the perfect components to rule to school. Pretty, rich, with a startling amount of charisma and people skills for someone so unsocialized.

(Know one knew how he picked up slang so fast in an attempt to hide to slight foreign tilt that laced his words. Never knew how when he first heard someone mock Alessia’s body he punched the guy’s lights out without ever thinking. No one knew how he hadn’t had a night's sleep since school started. How fake he felt, his mannerisms esageraged and twisted to suit the liking of the student body- till he felt like a caricature rather than a person.)

By second quarter Virgil and Remy’s seeming distaste for one another had spread far and wide. They couldn’t be in the same room together without having some sort of verbal showdown. If you asked Virgil he would say that Remy was a self absorbed prick with an ego the size of Mt. Rushmore. If you asked Remy he’d say that that Virgil was a clingy mood-killer who couldn’t see past his own issues.

(Remy didn’t know how empty Virgil felt. How much the crushing weight of his own thoughts threatened to pull him down under. How his dependency on Patton was more sinister than a clingy best-friend. How sometimes his nightmares left him gasping and clawing- begging for them to come back. How his mother never really could fill the emptiness in his house. How Virgil sometimes felt like a puppet going through the motions.)

As the eye bags under their eyes grew darker and heavier, and autumn grew colder and colder. Both boys felt the pressure crushing them under its weight.

(Turns out they both used their arguments as cathartic release from the world around them.)

(Some things never change.)

It was winter when they found each other. Both on the verge of a breakdown-

(It was always too bright. There were no warm wooden floors just chilled title and harsh- fake- lights. The entire building smelled like body odor and cleaning supplies. The teachers were strangers, uncaring distant- he heard what the girls were saying about his cousin. He just felt so-)

(Empty. Hopeless. Patton was gone where did Patton go? He was lonely. And so so pathetic. He needed to get himself under control needed. Don’t be a burden- they all hate him- don’t slip up. They’re going to leave him. Everything felt so distant- drowned out by the static- he was drowning-)

Where the fate’s looking down on the two powder keg boy. A spark away from igniting. Weaving their strings together for a happenstance in counter. Or was it merely coincidence that they went to the same storage closet, to have a moment's respite.

Was it just chance that the door was automatic-locked.

“This is just great” Remy hissed under his breath, he just wanted one moment- just one! Of some cooled peace and solitude. Away from the buzzing gossip and fake friends. Away from the sensory hell outside. A little kernel of bitter anger swelled within the pit of his stomach. One moment, just one.

Then he turned to look at the other person in the room.

Remy had seen lots of sides of Virgil Anxiti, the sarcastic commenter, the horrible-yet oddly insightful- student, the debater .

(He hadn’t seen the devoted son, the caring brother, the friend who would do anything for his loved ones)

But he’d never seen him… blank.

Curled up in the corner of the closet, arms hugging his knees as they were pressed into his chest, was Virgil. Eyes dead and dulled as stone. The muscles in his face were relaxed completely- which unsettled Remy more than crying would have.

Remy wasn’t a Knight in shining armor, or even a comforting person in general- but unqualified as he may be, he couldn’t just let his favorite rival just sit there and do nothing to help.

Alessia needed physical touch when she was upset , their whole family was practically comprised of touchy people. So when one of them was sad, it was a one way ticket to hug time. Somehow Remy didn’t think that would be well received.

“Hey, babes I’m going to touch your arm- that good with you?” He didn’t reply, not that Remy thought he would- but still. So slowly, cautiously, he layed a single hand on Virgil’s arm.

The change was gradual, but noticeable. Hear bloomed under Virgil’s complexion, bringing back warmth into his skin. The glassy oversheen of his eyes subsided, and his entire posture just… relaxed. And so did Remy.

When he had gathered enough of himself, Remy guided Virgil though his breathing exercises. In and out, In and out. Hand never leaving his arm- grounding him to the world.

The door was still locked when Virgil regained his senses. “Guess we have to wait until someone notices we’re missing” Which nearly set Virgil off into another spiral. Until they rembered that technology exists. And so they used Virgil’s phone to text Logan to come and unlock it.

“He’s the only one who won’t make a big deal about us being locked in a closet together”

But there was time between then and there. Time to talk, if only to fill the awkward silence.

To talk about school.

“Girl I have no idea what they put in those ‘school provided lunches’ but they are not food.”

“What rock have you been living under? I once got food poisoning from drinking some of the milk in 6th grade- and that still wasn’t the worst thing I’ve eaten from there.”

About Friends.

“I met Patton when I was six and we’ve been best friends ever since. Dee joined in when we were all about nine and we first saw Lo’ and the twins when they started freshman year”

“I cannot honestly tell you the names of half the people who hang around me”

About Family.

“Hon you could bust down every wall in this building and still wouldn’t have enough room to put all my fam”

“It’s just been my mom, little brother and Patton since I was eight and my dad walked out. Still don’t know who I hate more for it- him or me”

If Logan took just a tad longer route to the closet- he didn’t mention it. He also didn’t mention when Remy started joining their table for lunch. Matching Roman and Remus in all their theatrics- offering to set up a ‘play date’ between some of his younger cousins and Dee’s many siblings.

(If he noticed how much happier the two were after that, how much more healthy Virgil seemed, how more secure in himself Remy acted...well that was just one more thing he didn’t mention.)

Present Day Remy took off his glasses, letting them rest gently in his hand. “My Nonna gave them to me the day before I started school. Said they would come in handy. They did of course.. they just kinda.. became more” he rubbed along the temple’s rubbery tip. Eyes focused in on the way his fingers move up and down the slender frame.

Virgil gently takes the glasses into his hand, and sets them down on the bedside table. He has to stand on his toes to reach Remy’s face, but when he does he tenderly places a hand onto his cheek, gazing into his deep brown eyes- the same shade as his espresso cups and just as rich.

And Remy melts into him. Allows himself to be led away from the window. From the bright lights and traffic noise, and into Virgil’s embrace.

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