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bitsandbobsofwriting · 3 years

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Merlin goes home for a little while, determined to enjoy a well-earned vacation;

Camelot immediately falls apart, with the sole exceptions of Guinevere and Gaius.

Merlin knows Arthur really well.

Which just means he knows exactly how to get him to let his servant go home for two weeks to visit his mother and relax a little:

“You just don’t want me to go because you know you can’t cope without me! Look, if you want to come with me, that’s fine, but you’ll struggle just as much there as you would here because I refuse to act as your servant in my own home.”

Arthur turns red, looking outraged as he loses the ability to speak. Merlin turns around before The King can see his satisfied smirk, tidying around the prat’s chambers with exaggerated annoyance as he just waits for the inevitable-

“Fine! Go! See if I even notice that you’re gone! Honestly, Merlin, the running of the Kingdom will probably end up going smoother without you here to mess things up, you bumbling idiot.”

Merlin grins to himself before schooling his face back into annoyance and turning around with a huff, crossing his arms petulantly:

“Fine!”

The servant decides that he’d better leave, what with the way he was struggling to keep the victorious grin from his face, so without waiting for a response, he “storms” from the room, slamming the door behind him as dramatically as he’s able when he hears Arthur yell:

“FINE!”

Merlin sets off at the beginning of the next week. Gaius had raised a disapproving eyebrow when his ward had told him how he’d gotten Arthur to agree to such a long vacation, but didn’t say anything. They both knew that the elderly physician thought it was funny.

Gwen and Morgana make sure to see him out of the castle gates with big hugs, and whilst all of the knights were meant to be training, it came as no surprise to anyone when Gwaine slacks off for half a candle-mark to say goodbye as well. Mordred shoots him a quick goodbye across their mental link as the servant walks away from the city, after promising Merlin that he would warn him if anyone was in any serious danger (”Serious danger only, Mordred, I mean it. If I get called home because Arthur is throwing some sort of tantrum, then I’ll act out your destiny for you.”).

Merlin’s journey goes smoothly. The world was hovering in the junction between Spring and Summer, but with a little magical manipulation, the Warlock had no trouble staying warm and keeping his feet beneath him on the uneven path. Unsurprisingly, the young man is a lot less clumsy when he doesn’t have to focus on keeping his magic locked away so tightly.

Two days after his departure from Camelot, his mother is greeting him outside her little house with a long hug and a wide grin, stroking a hand through his hair as she welcomes him home.

Coincidentally, that’s also about the time things started going to shit for everyone else.

It was just after noon when Elyan had to be carried to Gaius’ chambers, his whole body juddering as he struggles to draw breath, the lack of oxygen from his throat closing up mixed with the panic making his brain go fuzzy.

Percival holds him up from one side and Leon holds him from the other, the two of them bursting through the physician’s door just as Elyan’s eyes roll back in his head. Gaius looks up suddenly, obviously startled by the abrupt intrusion, but he swiftly focuses, eyes wide and assessing as he quickly points them to a patient pallet:

“What happened?”

The two knights lay him down as carefully as they can before standing out of the way as Leon forces out an answer, trying to catch his breath between words:

“I don’t know, servants brought lunch out whilst we were training so we stopped to eat and he just started... wheezing. We thought he was choking at first but he said he couldn’t breathe. Has... has he been poisoned? We stopped everyone from eating.”

Gaius had gathered a handful of odd looking dried leaves the moment Leon mentioned the food, recognising the symptoms of an allergic reaction and putting two and two together immediately. He crushes them in his hands quickly, knowing he didn’t have time for a proper mortar and pestle as he shoves the crumbs into Elyan’s mouth, following through with a vile of something green and gross-smelling

He massages the odd concoction down Elyan’s throat as best he can around the swelling, and lets out a relieved smile when the knight’s eyes blow wide open and he chokes slightly before swallowing it all, grimacing at the taste but breathing deeply as his airways open again.

Leon and Percival let out similar breathes of relief when Elyan begins breathing again, chuckling breathlessly at his disgusted groan. The door bursts open again before anyone can say anything, and Arthur strides in, his flushed cheeks and rumpled clothes implying he had sprinted across the castle in his panic.

He spots Elyan on the pallet, his deep breaths interspersed with the odd cough, and his eyes widen even further as he looks to Gaius for an explanation:

“A servant told me something was wrong, what happened?!”

The King loses a little of the tension in his shoulders when Elyan waves a thumbs-up in his vague direction, but still looks frantically between the two knights and the physician as he waits for an answer. Percival wordlessly moves to Elyan’s side, running a hand up and down the man’s arm as Leon looks to Gaius expectantly:

“He had an allergic reaction, likely to nuts in the food. He should be fine, but he needs a day or two of rest, and to come back to me immediately if his throat swells again.”

Arthur sags in relief, nodding his approval of Elyan’s needed bedrest, but Leon’s eyes go wide as he lets out a knowing noise:

“Of course! I forgot about his allergy, it hasn’t been an issue since we were kids.”

Gaius nods knowingly and begins reorganising the jars he had knocked over when the knights had startled him:

“Hmm. I imagine he watched what he ate carefully when he was travelling, but Merlin keeps an eye on all of your food now.”

Leon frowns slightly as he tilts his head in confusion, but Arthur beats him to the punch, asking incredulously:

“What do you mean, Merlin keeps an eye on our food?”

Gaius raises an eyebrow, holding in his smirk as he slowly replies:

“Well, Merlin is usually the one to bring food out to you when you train, is he not? And on days he can’t he always speaks with the kitchen staff to double check what food is going where. Sir Elyan is not the only one with an allergy, My Lord. Merlin always makes sure any food the seven of you are given is safe. He has a tendency to check the Lady Morgana’s meals as well, whenever he’s able.”

Arthur is too taken aback to reply, his mouth hanging open, but that is when Percival looks up from his place at Elyan’s side, a confused frown on his face:

“Why?”

Gaius doesn’t manage to hold his smile in at that, looking between the three knights, and Elyan, who has just about managed to regain his breath:

“To avoid situations like this, I imagine, and to check for poison. It’s not uncommon for assassins to try and lace the royal’s food with something or other.”

Arthur finally shuts his mouth, only to open it again, speaking slowly:

“So... Merlin checks all of our food?”

Gaius nods:

“Religiously, Sire.”

Leon and Percival just shrug, adding it to their list of Weird Things About Merlin That They Should Be Grateful For, and Elyan smiles goofily from his place on the bed (whether it was the lack of oxygen or something funky in the vial, the knight didn’t know, but he was definitely still feeling a little... odd), but Arthur just frowns deeper, muttering a distracted “Take it easy.” to Elyan before walking stiffly from the room.

The King makes quick work of the journey back to the council meeting, desperately trying to persuade himself that this was nothing to do with him not being able to cope without Merlin. Elyan was the one not coping, clearly. Merlin was still wrong and stupid and Arthur hadn’t even noticed that he was gone until Gaius brought him up (a lie, he missed him terribly, but shhh).

Leon and Percival look to Gaius in confusion when Arthur had almost stormed from the room, and the Physician simply smiles again, the amusement shining clearly in his eyes:

“Merlin persuaded Arthur to let him take a holiday by heavily implying that he couldn’t cope with Merlin’s absence.”

Percival snorts with laughter and Leon raises an eyebrow as he grins:

“Arthur took that as a challenge then, I suppose? Two days in and we’ve already got The King sprinting from meetings because a knight has collapsed from an allergic reaction... because Merlin wasn’t here...”

Gaius just nods, and Percival mutters an amused:

“This will be entertaining.”

Arthur steadfastly refuses to acknowledge that the next mini disaster, a few days later, was also down to Merlin’s absence.

Ok, so maybe it was because Merlin wasn’t here, but ultimately, it was Gwaine that messed up, not Arthur. So it didn’t count.

The knight came back from a night patrol that he’d taken with The King with an infected gash on his arm. Arthur grins teasingly as he describes to Gaius how the knight had tripped on a loose cobblestone and scratched his arm on the sharp edge of a stray cart at the beginning of the patrol, and Gaius hums disapprovingly as he unwraps the scrap of fabric Gwaine had used as a bandage:

“Did you not have any medical supplies in your pack? Or did you think it best to let it get infected so I had to wake an hour before dawn to deal with it?”

Gwaine swings his dangling legs back and forth from where he sits on Gaius’ table, pouting sheepishly as he admits:

“I looked, but there wasn’t anything helpful in there, usually the armoury-hands have them stocked up for the patrols, I guess they missed mine.”

Arthur rolls his eyes at Gwaine’s seeming ineptitude, but his scolding is interrupted before it even begins when Gaius shakes his head in disagreement:

“Hmm. The servants that work in the armoury only tend to check the packs every few weeks, and even then they only check if they need any repairs. Merlin is the one with easier access to patrol rotas, so he’s the one who stocks them up on a day to day basis.”

Gwaine just nods in understanding, as if he should’ve expected that, but Arthur’s smile drops as he unfolds his arms, getting over his annoyed speechlessness in a matter of seconds:

“You’re telling me that Merlin, my personal manservant, is responsible for all the knights’ patrol packs?”

Gaius finishes cleaning Gwaine’s wound, muttering a quiet apology when the knight hisses at the first poke of the needle, speaking slowly as he focuses on making sure the stitches were neat and uniform:

“No, Sire. Technically the knights are meant to take care of their own packs, but Merlin is a paranoid man, he likes to double check things to make sure everyone has what they need. I suppose some people got used to having it done for them.”

Gwaine winces abashedly, making a mental note to remind the others to check their packs before their next patrols, but Arthur rolls his eyes, crossing his arms again and immediately accepting that this little incident was therefore Gwaine’s fault, and not down to Merlin's absence.

The voice in his head sounded a little doubtful, but he ignores it, choosing instead to chide his rebellious:

“Do try to pay attention to your own responsibilities, Sir Gwaine, I’d hate to see something terrible happen to you because you’re unable to complete your own simple tasks.”

Gwaine just sticks his tongue out petulantly, looking away from The King before he can see the blonde’s rolled eyes. Arthur huffs at his childishness, turning around to cover his grin and speaking over his shoulder as he walks from the room:

“You will be on time for once, Gwaine, training starts in a few hours and I want to see you bright and early.”

Gwaine just smirks, waiting for the door to shut behind Arthur before moving his sly, curious eyes to the physician in front of him:

“He’s missing Merlin, then?”

Gaius just gives him a knowing glance before looking back down at the now stitched gash, gathering bandages:

“I’d imagine so, though he’d never admit it. Merlin implied that Arthur wouldn’t cope with his absence,-”

Gwaine interrupts him with a laugh:

“Hence his insistence that it was entirely my fault?”

Gaius nods wordlessly, and Gwaine snorts, shaking his head in amused disbelief.

Meanwhile, Arthur stalks back towards his chambers, eager to get out of his armour and get into bed; Gwaine had training in a few hours, but so did he, and he needed at least a little sleep. He purses his lips in annoyance as his gaze falls upon the clinical cleanliness of his room... George had been in then.

Look... Arthur being used to a slightly messy room did NOT mean he depended on Merlin. And Gwaine not being used to having to actually organise himself ALSO didn’t mean that Merlin was... ok. Maybe Gwaine relies on Merlin a little.

So that’s Sir Elyan and Sir Gwaine, two of The King’s most trusted knights, who can’t cope without Merlin. But Arthur is doing just fine. It’s been half a week and he is just. Fine.

Just fine.

It was the next day that things began going wrong a little more... drastically.

George wakes Arthur up for training on time because of course he does. Arthur had found himself losing out on a lot of sleep without Merlin insisting he go to bed at a reasonable time, and waking him up late; Merlin had gotten into the habit of snatching Arthur’s paperwork away and holding it out of reach until The King agreed to go to sleep, and somehow manages to fit Arthur’s entire morning routine into half a candle-mark. George would never snatch away Arthur’s paperwork, and he takes so much longer in the mornings meaning Arthur has to wake up earlier.

Not that Arthur would ever admit to enjoying his and Merlin’s unorthodox routines.

Eight more days to go, and he’s fine.

At least... that’s what he thought until a nameless guard approaches the training field, waving him over from his spar with Mordred. Arthur strides over quickly, annoyed at the interruption and nodding at the guard to speak as he drinks from his water-skin:

“My Lord, Lord Halbert and Lady Ethel have arrived. I believe they’re waiting for your presence in the courtyard.”

Arthur chokes, managing to turn his head to the side just in time before he spits a mouthful of water over the guards face. He quickly wipes his mouth and turns back to the pour armoured man with wide eyes:

“That’s today?!

The guard nods hesitatingly:

“Yes, Sire, would you like me-”

He’s interrupted when Arthur shouts a hurried:

“Fuck!” as he drops his water-skin and begins sprinting up the field towards the castle, desperately trying to calculate if he had enough time to wash and change before they got antsy with waiting. Probably not.

Seeing Arthur’s panic and hearing his loud curse, Leon hurriedly approaches the guard, putting a friendly hand on his shoulder as he speaks with a frown:

“Gavin? Is everything alright?”

The guard, Gavin, looks to Leon with a confused frown:

“It would appear that His Majesty... misremembered the date of Lord Halbert and Lady Ethel’s arrival.”

Leon’s eyes go wide and he glances quickly to the castle as he rushes out an exclamation identical to Arthur’s:

“That’s today?!”

Gavin just nods again, and Leon drops the hand from his shoulder, letting out a loud:

“Shit!” as he recreates Arthur’s sprint up to the castle, knowing that he was expected to be at The King’s side when welcoming guests. He doesn’t pause, even when he shouts:

“Lancelot’s in charge!” over his shoulder.

The knights all look to each other in amusement, but Lancelot quickly takes charge, running drills as if he had been doing it his entire life and trusting that, whatever it was, Arthur could get things sorted. And if Arthur couldn’t get things sorted, then Leon would get things sorted. And if Leon couldn’t get things sorted, then Merlin would... oh.

He glances worriedly to the castle just as Leon falls through the door, not bothering to shut it behind him in his panic. Oh.

Arthur lets out the deepest breath of relief he thinks he’s ever experienced when he sees George ahead of him in the corridor; he gestures him over hastily, making the servant jog to keep up with him as he continues his fast pace down the hall:

“I don’t care how many other servants you have to pull from their duties, but I need the castle prepped for Halbert and Ethel’s arrival right now.-”

Arthur barely pays attention to George’s faltering step of shock, just stops suddenly in front of the door that leads down to the courtyard, turning to the servant and putting both hands on his shoulder as he stares at him intensely, face flushed and breathing harsh:

“I need you to do this for me, George. Prepare guest chambers, send someone down to show them to the right rooms, and make sure the Kitchens know they’re feeding two extra nobles for three days, starting today. If you can organise all of that in the next two minutes, I’ll give you a raise and a Godamn hug, you hear me?!”

George gulps, his shoulders tense, his face pale, and his breath frozen in his lungs as he meets Arthur’s frantic gaze with wide eyes. He gives a shaky nod, instantly turning and sprinting down the corridor without a word when Arthur lets go.

Leon skids around the corner, moving to stand next to Arthur with his hands on his knees as he attempts to catch his breath, speaking in a slight wheeze:

“I... I left Lance... in charge.”

Arthur nods in approval, pulling Leon to stand before holding his hands out to the side, presenting himself for inspection. Leon takes one last deep breath, smoothing the training tunic over Arthur’s shoulders, attempting to rub the dirt from his nose, and brushing a quick hand through his hair before stepping back and holding his own arms out. Arthur pulls a leaf from behind his ear, but is otherwise satisfied, and the two of them turn to the door, schooling their faces and stepping down into the courtyard.

Arthur has a calm, welcoming smile on his face, and Leon stands stiffly behind him, hand on the sword that he luckily had on his hip as he stares blankly ahead.

The nobles seem taken aback at The King's state of undress, but don’t say anything, covering their shock quickly. Arthur’s hoping that his friendly attitude will just give the impression that he’s...approachable and slightly laid back, as opposed to just an idiot who forgot they were coming because no one had reminded him.

Gods. Merlin can never know about this.

Thankfully, the next three days went smoothly, or at least as smoothly as possible after Arthur spent an hour rifling through his old mail to try and figure out the original reason for Lord Halbert and Lady Ethel’s visit (watching their eldest’s knighting ceremony, and discussing with Arthur the potential for their youngest to move to the city to become a squire).

He waves them off in a much more regal manner than he had welcomed them, and keeps his promise to George, upping his pay slightly; though he exchanges the hug for an awkward pat on the shoulder, which he thinks both of them were grateful for.

He’d successfully made it through nine days. Semi-successfully. He’d just about made it through nine days.

Five more to go. But Arthur was feeling fine about those five days. He’d double checked all his mail, and made sure to find out when his patrols were scheduled.

Which is... unknown to Arthur, where the next problem stems from.

Arthur wasn’t the one to rota the patrols, he really didn’t have the time to sit down with a list of names and hours and times and maps and organise everything fairly, it was difficult and time-consuming, but he made sure that Leon knew exactly how many hours he could give up for patrol each week.

Apparently, the communication between Leon and the council was normally handled by Merlin, who wasn’t there. So whilst Arthur was enjoying a solo patrol along the city borders at noon, waving at citizens and making his horse do tricks for giggling children, the council were sitting around the table, waiting rather irately for his arrival.

Now normally, this could’ve been easily dealt with, but when the same guard from three days ago gallops over to inform him of the problem and take over his patrol, Arthur was reminded rather suddenly that Merlin was always the one that came up with sensible sounding excuses.

(He also makes a mental note to avoid that guard forever out of embarrassment.)

This was one of the very rare occasions when Arthur simply glares the council into submission. Normally he likes to work with them; he hates to feel like they're just doing what he wants because they were kissing his arse, but he has no excuse other than “I forgot.” and he felt like that was worse than just.. acting like a bit of a dick for five minutes.

So... yeah. Merlin wasn’t there to reorganise the council meeting around Arthur’s patrol, and then also wasn’t there to come up with an excuse for why it wasn’t reorganised.

Arthur makes it ten days before he admits to himself that perhaps he relies on his manservant just a little too much.

Four days later, Arthur had missed another council meeting (despite his best efforts), Lancelot and Mordred had accidentally insulted some visiting Lord (and had therefore been told not to leave their rooms until he had vacated the city), and Gwen was no longer speaking to him, on account of The King being a dick without realising because Merlin wasn’t there to rein in his ego and... well... dickishness. That, and his crown had somehow gone missing between yesterday morning and now.

(If that last one had happened even a week prior, Arthur would’ve been adamant that it had been stolen or something else equally not-his-fault, but with how quickly he’d been made aware of his apparent bad memory and social clumsiness, he had every faith that he’d just misplaced it, and Merlin would know exactly where to look.)

Arthur was sitting on the courtyard steps, tunic unlaced at the top and hair a mess when his servant finally, finally walks through the castle gates. The King perks up slightly, but refuses to give Merlin the satisfaction of being run to, so forces himself to remain in place. He was especially glad that he’d made that decision when he saw Guinevere spring over to greet him. He has a feeling she won’t be all that... welcoming, at least not yet.

Merlin wraps her in a tight hug and Arthur forces down the swell of jealousy in his lungs, especially when he laughs brightly and pulls back to clasp her shoulders. Arthur sees Gwen’s face fall at a question Merlin had asked and he gulps, biting his lip when Merlin frowns and raises an incredulous eyebrow at her response. She points in Arthur’s direction, and The King’s eyes go wide as he rapidly stands, failing miserably at looking as though he weren’t staring in their direction. Guinevere rolls her eyes before giving Merlin one last hug and walking very deliberately in the opposite direction to Arthur.

Merlin marches towards him, slight annoyance mixing with a secret eagerness to check on Arthur speeding up his normal pace significantly. Before the servant can say anything, Arthur grabs his wrist, pulling him up the steps and through the castle without a word, tugging harshly every time Merlin opens his mouth to demand an explanation for himself or an apology for Gwen.

When they finally reach his chambers, Arthur quickly locks the door behind him, whirling on an angry Merlin with flushed cheeks and a desperate look in his eyes:

“I swear Merlin, I will never doubt you again, but Elyan almost died, Gwaine got an infection, Leon and I forgot about Ethel and Halbert, Lancelot and Mordred are essentially under house arrest, I missed two council meetings, lost my crown, and now Gwen’s not talking to me. You’re never allowed to leave me again.”

Merlin freezes in place, staring at Arthur with wide eyes and an open mouth for a few moments before he bursts into laugher. Arthur huffs, crossing his arms as his blush deepens, but waits patiently instead of demanding that Merlin stop. Honestly? He may have been laughing at Arthur, but it was still the most beautiful sound The King had heard in two weeks, and he’d definitely missed it. Which is... something to think about at a later date.

Merlin finally relents, his dimples showing prominently as he holds in another round of giggles at Arthur’s red face. The servant drops his pack to the floor, stepping forward and not giving Arthur time to move away before he pulls him into a tight hug, sighing contentedly at the warm contact:

“I missed you too, you prat. You’ll just have to come with me next time and we can leave Gwen and Gaius in charge.”

Arthur huffs out a gentle laugh, finally wrapping his arms around Merlin’s middle tightly and burying his face in the slightly taller man’s hair:

“I did. Miss you, I mean. And I also mean it when I say you’re never going anywhere without me again, this has been a nightmare.”

Merlin snorts, tightening his grip on Arthur as if he were trying to squeeze all of the stress out of him:

“Co-dependency isn’t the healthiest thing in the world, you know.”

Arthur just huffs, refusing to let go as he petulantly responds:

“I don’t care. I’m The King, I can do what I want.”

Arthur can almost feel Merlin rolling his eyes, but the servant just laughs again and seems to nod in agreement:

“Hmm. That excuse is going to come back to haunt you one day. Heard you gave George a raise?”

The blonde tenses in embarrassment, now refusing to pull away so Merlin wouldn’t see his pink cheeks:

“Uh... yeah. He cleans too much and is shit at coming up with plausible excuses, but he did save my arse a few times.”

Arthur can feel Merlin’s laugh vibrate through his ribcage, and though the man was usually rather touch averse, he found he never wanted the feeling to stop. He found himself hoping that Merlin felt the same when The King chuckles at his response:

“Oh yeah? Does that mean I get a raise for being good at excuses and bad at cleaning?”

THE END!!!

Literally wrote this in one day so... sorry if it’s bad😅

Had no clue how I was going to end it until I got there, my thought process essentially just went “Hugs? Yeah. Hugs hugs hugs hugs hugs.” :D

Same as always lads, you wanna write it out in full or remix it or whatever, go for it, just drop me a message and credit/tag me :)

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wyvernsandwitches · 2 years

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Through The Dark

My post-season 2, beginnings of Geraskefer fix it fic ft. emotions and apologies and lil smiles all round

(I very much view canon as a pick'n'mix sweet shop in case you couldn't tell by the number of times Eskel's name pops up in this lol (s2e2 who?))

Read on AO3

Admittedly, it’s only been a day since the whole shit show with Voleth Meir, but Jaskier is still feeling very much like a spare part, unwanted and not useful. After a much-needed bath that morning (well, midday really, he supposes; an early riser he is not), he’d asked Lambert and Eskel how he could help, unable to find Yennefer or Geralt, off somewhere with Ciri most likely. Lambert hadn’t even looked at him, had just stood up and walked away. Eskel had been kinder at least, giving him a sympathetic look and suggesting that maybe the library could use some organising. Jaskier knew an excuse to get rid of someone when he heard one. But that was fine, Jaskier had thought. He’d taken some bread and cheese and a bottle of wine up to the library and had spent the afternoon there, reorganising the shelves, which were, to be fair to Eskel, in a frankly shameful state of being.

Yennefer had come to drag him away at dinnertime, his hand clasped tightly in hers, the pair of them bickering all the way to the great hall. Geralt had given them an inscrutable look when they entered, hand in hand, and Jaskier had snatched his hand away reflexively, without really meaning to, which had sent him into something of a spiral because if he wants to hold hands with Yennefer then he damn well will and Geralt can go to hell because he doesn’t own Yennefer, but it’s too awkward now to take her hand back and besides, he thinks he’s offended her by snatching his hand away, which is the last thing he wanted to do, not least because he might actually have feelings for the witch, but also because she’s the only person in this damn keep who seems to be able to speak to him in full sentences without looking like it’s causing them some sort of pain, and why does everything have to be so bloody difficult? And so he’d left rather quickly after dinner and resumed his post in the library, which is where Yennefer finds him later that night after everyone else has gone off to bed.

Yennefer had spent the afternoon training with Ciri, trying to claw back some of the trust she so spectacularly lost. Geralt had been an ever-present bother, hovering around like some mother hen. She can’t really blame him, she supposes, not after what she did, but if he does it again tomorrow, she doesn’t think she’ll be able to bite her tongue. It’s been a hell of a day, she thinks on her way to the library, then laughs at herself. It’s been a hell of a fucking month, she thinks more accurately. And then add to that the bloody tension between Geralt and Jaskier at dinner… Jaskier pulling his hand from hers after reading whatever he saw on Geralt’s face. She swears if the two of them don’t get their heads out of their arses soon… Two days. She’s going to give them two days to sort themselves out, to fight, or fuck, or fall at each other’s feet, or whatever the fuck it will take to make them friends again. If not, she’s going to bang their heads together herself. She needs them both – however surprising that may be, especially with regards to Jaskier. She’s still coming to terms with it herself, but not being one to deny herself what she wants, she’s not going to deny it.

When Yennefer finds him in the library, the fire is burning low in the hearth, and Jaskier is sitting at a table a good twenty feet away, not on the comfortable settee by the fire, but in a hard backed chair.

“You shouldn’t read in the dark, you know. You’ll give yourself a headache,” she says as she enters the room. She doesn’t need to ask why. She’d noticed after dinner last night how he’d stayed away from the hearth. A wave of guilt had swept over her when she realised she’d forgotten his ordeal and she’d subtly sat down next to him, taking his hand in hers and letting her chaos heal what time had not yet been able to. He’d given her a smile and a look so full of feeling that she’d felt her reflexes warning her to run, to leave, warning her that this was dangerous territory, that those deep blue eyes could only make her more vulnerable. But she’d done her best to hush the voices, and instead had rested her head on his shoulder and allowed her mind to quiet, feeling a strange, lovely sort of warmth in her chest when he in turn had rested his head on hers.

“Already have actually. Although that could be because the wine has worn off,” he quips, without looking away from his book.

She strides over to him and he turns but she places her fingers in his hair and turns his head back around, and then he feels the dull ache in his head ease to nothing and a delightful warmth spreads through him, right to the tips of his freezing cold fingers and toes.

He lets out a rather unseemly moan. “Oh, that is divine. Have you always been able to do that, because that could have come in handy on the road!”

“It won’t last long,” she says as she rests her forearms on his shoulders. “Everyone’s gone to bed. Keep me company?”

“Trouble sleeping?” He tilts his head back so he can look up at her.

“Come sit with me,” she says.

“You come sit with me,” he says. He lets her evade the question; he would have evaded it too.

She digs her elbows into his shoulders, not with any real force but he still yelps and she laughs. “Come on, the settee’s comfier than these old chairs.”

He darts a look at the fire, fear evident in his gaze, but before he can say anything, before he can admit to the fear that leaves him feeling sweaty and off kilter and embarrassed, she waves a hand at the hearth and the fire dies, plunging them into darkness but for the moonlight through the windows. Then she waves her hand again and a sphere of light shoots forth from her palm, hanging in the centre of the room and bathing them both in a warm, steady glow, not unlike the light of a sunset.

He sends her a gentle smile in thanks and she rolls her eyes. “Don’t go getting sentimental on me now, bardling.”

“In your dreams, witch,” he grins and allows himself to be pulled to the sofa.

“My nightmares, more like,” Yennefer quips as she takes a seat on the other corner of the sofa.

They talk for nearly an hour, during which time Yennefer rearranges herself so she’s lounging across the settee, her head in Jaskier’s lap. Their conversation has slowed as she’s started to doze, and Jaskier is wondering how she can still look so elegant, sprawled across a settee on the edge of sleep.

“I’m going to leave in the morning,” he confesses.

“What? Why?” Yennefer’s eyes fly open.

“Come on, Yennefer,” he says, looking down at her with a sad, rueful sort of smile. “You know why.”

Yennefer sits up and gives him a look with a raised eyebrow that encourages him to go on. A greater man might be able to still his tongue and ignore that look, but not Jaskier.

“He– I’m not made for this. Monsters and fighting and politics? I’m just a bard–”

“Bullshit you’re just a bard! You helped those elves, didn’t you? And I’ve heard you gossip with that big mouth of yours. You know politics as well as any court advisor.”

“That’s very kind of you to–”

“I’m not being kind, I’m being honest. Why should I have any reason to be kind to you?” Yennefer gives him a haughty look, but her eyes are soft.

“He’s barely even looked at me, Yen. I can’t stay when he doesn’t want me here.”

“Forget him. He’s a bloody arsehole. You said it yourself, you’re better off without him!”

“Exactly! I can’t just stick around waiting for any little scraps of attention he deigns to throw my way. I said to myself when he left me on that mountain that I wouldn’t fall back into it… into him… that I would make him apologise before I even so much as gave him the time of day, and look what happened.”

She feels the anger swell inside her. Anger at Jaskier for leaving. Anger at Geralt for making him feel unwanted. Anger at herself for not being enough.

“So that’s it, is it? You’re just going to leave? I should have known.” She stands up, anger in her face that Jaskier doesn’t quite understand. “You’ll just fuck off back to Oxenfurt and pretend this never happened? Fuck Ciri. Fuck the world. Fuck Yennefer. Is that it?”

All at once realisation dawns on him, and Jaskier understands her anger, at least part of it. He stands, taking her elbows in his palms and the fond look on his face makes Yennefer – embarrassingly – want to melt a little.

“Yennefer of Vengerberg, my trusted friend, my immortal enemy, my drunkard wife.” He draws a reluctant smile from her at the last part. “As long as you wish me to be, I will always be here… to be your damsel in distress, or your Sandpiper, or… well, I know exactly how scary you can be so I’d rather not offer to be anything, not without some sort of binding contract in place setting out exact details, but…” He sighs and tips his forehead against hers, thinking all the while that she’s about to push him away, that this is too much, too intimate. But she doesn’t. She can barely admit it to herself, but she welcomes it. “If you ask me to stay, I will.”

And Yennefer knows without having to read his mind that he’s telling the truth. She knows that all she needs to do right now is tell him she needs him, and he would stay, for her. That truth is terrifying to her, but it makes her glow inside and sets her stomach fluttering. She wishes she was selfish enough to say the words. In the past, she would have been. But she heard his song, she saw the heartbreak in his face. The very same that she knows would have been mirrored on her own if she hadn’t built up so many masks over the decades.

So instead, she wraps her arms around Jaskier’s lithe waist and pulls him into her. His arms go around her shoulders and he squeezes. He presses his lips against her temple.

“Wait for me,” she says as she pulls away many moments later.

He gives her a quizzical look, not quite trusting his voice.

“Tomorrow. Wait for me in the morning. Don’t go down the mountain by yourself. If you still wish to go, I’ll take you anywhere you want.”

He nods, gratitude evident on his face. She smiles softly, and the look sends warmth through Jaskier’s veins.

“I’m going,” she announces and steps away from him. “Are you staying up?”

Jaskier nods. “Just going to finish the chapter you so callously dragged me away from.”

“Good riddance then, bard.”

He grins at her. “Good riddance, witch.”

Yennefer finds Geralt in Ciri’s room, after accidentally disturbing Eskel, who kindly points her to the right room. Geralt is asleep in the chair next to Ciri’s bed but as Yennefer pushes the door open, he wakes and is on his feet in an instant, looking for a threat, sword extended.

She casts a quick charm over Ciri so she won’t be disturbed by their conversation and then says, “Put your bloody sword down. Come with me.”

Geralt makes no move toward her, but he lowers his sword. “What’s this about?” he asks gruffly.

“Jaskier,” she says.

Yennefer can see his hand tighten on his sword.

“What about him? What’s wrong?”

“He intends to leave in the morning. I thought you’d like to know so you can go and grovel at his feet and see if he forgives you.” She folds her arms over her chest. “You and I may be on the outs right now, Geralt, but I do not wish to see you fuck up your… friendship with the bard. Which I can assure you, you will do, if you let him leave. Have you even talked to him since you’ve reunited?”

“Of cou-“

“I mean really talked. Have you asked him why he was in prison? What the trouble was that he got into? Have you apologised for anyof the hurt you’ve caused him?”

Geralt feels the familiar guilt return to gnaw at him again. “I’ve been busy… Ciri… He deserves better than this, Yen. Maybe it would be better if he left.”

“By the gods, if you would just communicate Geralt, you’d save us all a bloody headache! No, it wouldn’t be better if he left, and yes, he may well deserve better, but that didn’t stop you from dragging his sorry arse back into your life. You made that decision by yourself, so you need to fix it.”

Geralt has the decency to look a little chastised. “You’ve never got on. I thought you’d want him gone.”

“You thought wrong,” Yennefer says with a thunderous expression that brooks no argument. “Come.” She turns on her heel and walks out of the room, her dress flowing behind her. Geralt takes one long look at Ciri, to check she’s really still there, still her, and follows Yen.

“Has he told you the trouble he got in, in Oxenfurt?” Yennefer asks as they make their way through the cold corridors, their footsteps echoing.

“He said you saved his life.”

“And I suppose you never asked for more details?”

Geralt hms.

“Of course not.” Yennefer stops in her tracks and looks at him. It isn’t really her place to be telling Geralt this… but that’s not exactly stopped her before. If it will get the two idiots to talk, if it will force Geralt into taking the opportunity to fix things with Jaskier, then it is worth breaching Jaskier’s confidence in this small way. “I found him bleeding, bound to a chair. He was tortured by that mage, Geralt. To find out information about Ciri… about you.”

Geralt feels his heart skip a beat and Yennefer notices that his grip tightens on the sword that is still in his hand. He lifts it slightly, almost unconsciously, as though he would storm off right now to find the fucker and cut him down.

“That’s why he needs to stay,” Yennefer says, and continues to the library. Among other reasons, she does not add. Best not to complicate things too soon. “So… Fix. It.” she demands when they reach the library, and shoves Geralt bodily through the door, before slamming it shut behind him.

The library glows with light like a sunrise, a ball of light hovering near the ceiling, and it’s warm, even without a fire. Jaskier is on his feet as soon as Geralt stumbles in, his book hanging forgotten in his hand.

“Geralt? What’s the matter?” Jaskier asks and eyes Geralt’s sword. There is no fear in his eyes, not fear of Geralt at least, but there’s a wariness there where there never used to be.

“You were tortured?” Geralt asks. “Because of me?”

Jaskier feels colour rush to his face, and he wants to wave his hands and make a quip, divert Geralt’s attention to something else, but he’s tired, so very tired. And really, didn’t he want to talk to Geralt about this? Hasn’t he been waiting for Geralt to ask? For Geralt to actually look at him, to see him?

So, he clears his throat, feeling awkward, and says, “Yes.” He finds he can’t meet Geralt’s eyes, so he doesn’t see the pain that flashes across them.

Geralt had always thought that leaving Jaskier, not going back to find him after Caingorn, had been for the best. He’d told himself it would keep Jaskier out of harm’s way, that it would ensure his safety, and, rather selfishly, that it would cool the flood of feelings Geralt had for him. A fresh start would do them both good. How wrong he’d been. He may have been able to tamp down and ignore his feelings when they were apart, but as soon as Yen had uttered his name in Ellander they’d come flooding back, mingling with the feelings he had for Yen, and confusing him all over again.

Fuck it, he thinks, and strides to Jaskier, ignoring the clanging noise his sword makes as he drops it to the ground, ignoring the thought of any damage to it. Some things are more important. He throws his arms around Jaskier and pulls him in, chin resting on Jaskier’s shoulder. It takes Jaskier a moment to really process what’s happening. A small part of him wants to push Geralt away, but he sighs, drops the books, and hugs Geralt back.

“I’m sorry,” Geralt says, and Jaskier’s throat begins to burn as his eyes fill with tears. Before he can stop it, a sob wrenches its way from his chest. Geralt pulls him in tighter and rests a broad hand on the back of Jaskier’s head. Jaskier buries his face in Geralt’s shoulder and cries, fisting his hands in the back of Geralt’s shirt. Geralt doesn’t say it’s alright, or shush him, or even attempt to pull away, which Jaskier is grateful for. Instead, he holds Jaskier as he cries, and part of Geralt wants to cry as well, wants the release of the emotions he’s constantly bottling up. Although he can already tell that being around Cirilla is helping with that. He knows it’s a habit he can’t afford to pass on to her.

Jaskier gets his breathing back under control after a few moments and as he pulls back slightly, Geralt asks in a soft voice, “Show me?”

Jaskier looks at him, blue irises rimmed in red, and holds his hand out between them. Geralt takes it gingerly, almost reverently, in both of his, examining the puckered skin.

“Yen had a go at them yesterday when she got her chaos back, so they’re healed at least, but she said there wasn’t anything she could do just yet for the scars.”

“I’m so sorry, Jaskier,” Geralt says, rubbing his thumbs absentmindedly against the soft skin on the back of Jaskier’s hand.

“It’s fine, Geralt. It’s not your fault,” Jaskier demurs.

“Not just–” Geralt cuts himself off with a noise in the back of his throat, and he looks up at the ceiling, as if for strength, before looking back at Jaskier earnestly. “For all of it,” says Geralt.

The corner of Jaskier’s mouth tilts up in a small smile. He feels as if he could cry again, but he doesn’t. “So sentimental, witcher,” he jokes, but he’s glad for the apology, said to his face and with some real feeling behind it this time.

“Yennefer said you’re leaving tomorrow?” Geralt asks.

Jaskier huffs and puts his hands on his hips. “And the witch has the gall to tell me I have a big mouth!” he says with a roll of his eyes, but there’s a newfound fondness in his voice that Geralt is still getting used to. He doesn’t know what is between them now, or what changed it, and it makes him feel glad that they’re getting on, but also rather envious – of which one of them, he can’t quite put his finger on.

“Stay,” Geralt says, his voice raw.

“Pardon?” Jaskier isn’t quite sure he’s heard correctly.

“I know I have a lot of making up to do, and whatever path we’re headed down now with Cirilla will be tough but… Stay,” Geralt repeats. With me, he does not add.

“And do what Geralt? I’m useless.”

Geralt is about to protest but Jaskier continues.

“I can’t fight those things. I’m just a bard, Geralt, you know this. What help could I possibly be to your princess?”

“Jaskier.”

“Her own grandmother banished me from court, so my talents clearlyweren’t enough to compensate for your actions. What makes you think they’ll be enough now?”

“Jask–”

“I don’t have any magic, or- or any mutations. I don’t even have a bloody lute! Nobody needs me. Nobody needs–”

“Jaskier!” Geralt interrupts, voice raised. “I do. Ineed you.”

Geralt thinks for a moment that maybe he’s got through to him; Jaskier’s eyes fill with hope and his mouth quirks up on one side, but as soon as it’s come, it’s gone again.

“Of course. You need me to babysit your child surprise while you and Yen are off fighting the big bad–”

“No, Jaskier. I want you here. I–” Geralt growls, at himself more than anything, failing to get the words right. “You made my life better,” he forces out.

Geralt summons all his courage, ready for Jaskier’s rejection, and takes a step closer, just on the edge of his space. He reaches out and takes Jaskier’s uninjured hand in his. Jaskier looks into his eyes, shock evident on his features, and then quickly away, down at their feet.

“If you want to go back for your own reasons I won’t stand in your way. But don’t leave because you think you’re useless, or not needed here. You have use, Jaskier. You’re wanted here. I want you here. Yen wants you here. As soon as Ciri gets to know you, I don’t have any doubt that she’ll want you here too.”

Jaskier feels a warmth return to his chest. He lifts his watery gaze to Geralt’s. “That’s about the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Geralt winces. “I’m sorry if that’s true.”

Jaskier squeezes his fingers. “My count puts that at three apologies in one conversation? I see having a daughter really is having an effect on you.” He gives Geralt a mischievous grin, and it’s so like old times, so like the Jaskier before it all got fucked up – before Geralt fucked it all up – that it sends a bolt of electricity through Geralt, urging him forward to wrap Jaskier in his arms once more.

Jaskier huffs a laugh and hugs him back. Maybe Geralt’s indifference really was because he was so worried about Ciri. He’ll give him the benefit of the doubt at least.

“It’s going to be hard, isn’t it? Whatever comes next… protecting Cirilla?” Jaskier asks when he pulls back. Geralt leaves a hand clasping his neck, so Jaskier leaves his hands by Geralt’s waist, clinging to the fabric of his shirt.

Geralt nods. He has no idea where they’ll go next or when. With so many people after Ciri… he spoke about it briefly with Yennefer last night, but they didn’t reach any conclusions.

“Lots of travelling?”

Geralt nods again.

“Cold?”

“Skellige is a possibility.”

“And it’ll be dangerous?”

Geralt winces, and nods again. As much as he doesn’t want to put Jaskier in harm’s way, it appears from recent events that Jaskier’s relationship with Geralt has already done so. At least if he stays, Geralt will be there to keep him (mostly) out of trouble.

Jaskier grins. “How could I say no to such an adventure?”

Geralt is still for a moment and then Jaskier watches as he smiles – actually smiles – and gives him that fond look that made Jaskier fall in love with him all those years ago. He swallows and takes a step back.

“But are you sure you want me with you? You do remember how much I complain, don’t you? And the singing?”

“I’m sure I can put up with it,” Geralt smirks.

“Well, you better had! No more being mean about my music anymore, mister!” He punctuates that with a poke to Geralt’s chest, but then his face falls. “Well, just singing and spoons until I can get my hands on another lute.”

“Your lute? From Filavandrel?”

“Yes, she’s gone,” Jaskier says with a deep sigh. “Cut down in her prime by that fucker that…” Jaskier’s eyes go a little wild and he takes a deep breath.

Geralt searches for something to say. If he ever sees that fucker again, he’s going to kill him. “Eskel is an excellent woodworker. I don’t think he’s ever made any instruments before, but I could ask him for you. Just so you’d have something in the meantime.”

Jaskier’s face lights up. “I’d love that, Geralt. Of course, I’d need to find some keys and strings but–”

“I’m sure I could scrounge something up for you,” Yennefer says as she sweeps into the room. “If I am to understand you’re staying?”

“Did you listen to our whole conversation, witch?”

“Only the interesting bits, and they were few and far between.”

“I assure you, all my conversations are very int– mmpf!” Jaskier is silenced by Yen’s hand over his mouth.

“Shut up, bardling,” she says with a smirk at his indignant expression before she slowly takes her hand away.

“There’s better ways than that to shut me up, you know,” Jaskier says with an overexaggerated wink.

“Oh, don’t tempt me, bard,” Yennefer says, her eyes filled with mirth. “But it’s late. And since this appears to be… if not sorted, at least on the way to being so, I will retire for the night. Husband mine,” she says, relishing the look of confusion on Geralt’s face and the adorable smile on Jaskier’s (she’ll think about when exactly she started thinking of him as adorable later, after some sleep). “My room is closer than yours and I’m rather exhausted so if you want me to keep this up, rather than you having to use the hearth, you can stay with me,” she says, waving at the glowing ball of magic.

Jaskier is shocked into an uncharacteristic silence by her offer.

“See, I do know other ways to shut you up,” she quips, and just as he regains enough composure to retort, she adds, “Geralt, you’re welcome too, of course. I think we’re all in need of a good night’s sleep.”

Yennefer chuckles at the looks on both of their faces, somewhere between surprise and confusion and want.

“Don’t overthink it, boys. It’s simply an offer of a warm bed and not waking up alone. That’s all it needs to be,” she says and with a brazenness she hasn’t felt in a while, she leans up to press her lips against first Geralt’s cheek and then Jaskier’s. She glides towards the door, the scent of lilac and gooseberries trailing behind her, even here.

Jaskier quickly recovers himself and Geralt’s not entirely sure how Jaskier has managed to process this all so quickly when Geralt himself is still stuck on husband mine. “It would be my pleasure to warm your bed, my lady,” Jaskier pronounces with an extravagant bow.

Yennefer wrinkles her nose and says, “Ugh, don’t make me regret the offer.”

Without missing a beat, Jaskier corrects, “It would be my pleasure to warm your bed, my terrifying, tyrannical witch of a wife?”

Yennefer grins and Geralt notices her eyes light up in a way he’s only seen directed at him before. It sends a rush through him to see the gaze directed at Jaskier and he’s much too tired to try and parse out why. “Much better,” she purrs, as she pulls the door open.

“Geralt?” Jaskier asks, apprehension evident in his voice.

The hopeful look that Jaskier sends his way – all wide blue eyes and a soft smile – makes Geralt’s heart leap. He looks at Yennefer, her violet eyes piercing, and she looks like she’s trying to hide a smirk.

Geralt feels as though he may have tripped into another universe, or else he’s stuck in a dream. Is this really something they’re offering? To him? He doesn’t deserve this. Out of habit, he’s about to decline, to deny himself this gift. But then he hears Yennefer’s voice in his head, his own thoughts going a little muggy. If you turn him down now, you’ll never have him, she says. His reflexes immediately respond that he doesn’t want Jaskier, not like that, but Yennefer raises an arch eyebrow, unbelieving, and the lie sounds flimsy even in his own head.

“Hm,” he says and nods, and Jaskier beams at him, looking happier than he has done in some time, and Geralt is reminded of just how infectious Jaskier’s happiness is, when he feels a smile creep on to his own face.

#then they all cuddle #and wake up happy #and none of them are ever sad again #k thanks bye #the witcher #fix it fic #geraskefer #geraskier #yennskier #geralt x jaskier x yennefer #the witcher fic #geraskefer fic #my writing

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bangtaninink · 3 years

Text

‘cause i’ve been aimin’ for heaven above

read sanctuary and when night falls i am your escape for @athenakyle

You let out a quiet sigh, cheek resting atop your fist as you flip through the pile of paper on your desk. A curt knock on the door pulls you out of your thoughts, and you straighten up to see your secretary in the doorway, a knowing smile playing on her lips.

“Yeah?”

“You have a visitor,” Jinah says, biting the inside of her cheek to hold back a grin.

“Is it my brother?” you groan, shaking your head. “I’m not available.”

“Nope. Even better than that hottie.”

“Please don’t talk about my brother like t—”

“‘Sup, gorgeous?” Jeongguk says, poking his head in through the doorway, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Oh. Well, I take it back. Talk about him however you want; he’s only my step brother anyway.”

“Can I get you guys anythi—” Jinah starts, raising a hand.

“We’re good, thank you,” you say, rolling your eyes as you pull Jeongguk into your office while shutting the door behind him, jerking your head to silently signal to your secretary to leave.

“I brought lunch,” Jeongguk announces, holding up a grease-stained paper bag with a grin. “I hope you’re in the mood for burgers and curly fri— oh shit. Are you still on that diet? Fuck.”

“It’s fine.” You shake your head and chuckle, taking the bag and walking to the small sofa set against one wall of your office. “I finally lost those five pounds I’ve been trying to shed for months.”

“I hope that didn’t come from your boobs or ass.” Jeongguk pulls off his jacket, dropping it on one arm of the sofa before sitting down next to you, humming at how soft the cushions are. “I mean, I’ll still fuck you, but you know… less to grab.”

“Always a charmer, Jeon. Thank you for accepting me in all my shapes and sizes.”

He hands you your burger with a wink.

〰️

The small gasp that leaves your lips quickly turns into a quiet moan, hand gripping the pillow behind your head tightly as Jeongguk wraps his lips around your nipple, your back arching off the sofa.

“Mmm, good to see — and feel — that these are still intact,” he says, grinning up at you. “Oh wait.” You huff out disbelieving laughter when you feel his hand curl around your waist, reaching down to grab your ass, giving it a light squeeze. “Yep. All good. Nice work on the diet, sweet cheeks. Not that I think you needed it, but if it made you happy, I support it.”

“I appreciate that, babe, but I’d appreciate it more if you finished what you started, thank you.”

“Oh, well since you asked so nicely…”

Grin never faltering, Jeongguk sits up against the cushions, pulling you up to sit on his lap, kicking away the paper bag full of burger wrappers and an empty cardboard box where mere crumbs of what used to be fried potato now lay. Dress bunched up around your waist, he groans when you roll your hips on his lap, thin cotton and lace the only things separating you both.

“Your secretary’s pretty,” Jeongguk says, grabbing handfuls of your ass with a satisfied moan as he gently sucks on the sensitive skin of your neck, careful not to leave a mark.

“Thought you didn’t mess with married women,” you chuckle, fingers tangling in his newly dyed silver hair.

“Oh shit. She’s married? Never mind then.”

“I’m surprised you’re looking at other women in the first place.” A little breathless, Jeongguk lifts his head to look at you, eyebrow raised. “Thought you and Hana were ready to take it to the next level.”

“Oh, fuck you,” he groans, hiding his face in your chest and pinching your ass lightly when you start to laugh. “Don’t bring her up when you’re practically naked in my lap.”

You gasp and lean back, crossing your hands over your chest to cover yourself.

“Don’t tell me you think of her when you’re sleeping with me! Jeon Jeongguk, you jerk!”

“You’re such a boner killer, you know that?” Jeongguk says, trying to sound annoyed; the laughter in his voice gives him away.

“Hmm… didn’t seem that way last Tuesday… or the day before that, and the day before that, and the—”

A short knock at your office door interrupts you mid-sentence, and you throw your head back with a groan.

“Fuck my life,” you mutter, climbing off Jeongguk’s lap to start fixing your dress. “Raincheck?”

“I’m gonna hold you to that,” Jeongguk sighs, lifting his hips off the sofa to zip up his jeans. “Can’t believe I’m gonna be blue-balled when I brought you curly fries.”

Snorting, you throw your panties at him, letting them land on his bare chest as you smooth out your dress and open your office door.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Jinah says, clutching a binder folder close to her chest as she steps into your office with wary steps. You hold back an amused smile, watching as she tries very hard not to look in Jeongguk’s direction where he’s still shirtless, your underwear still on his chest, and scrolling through his phone. “Um…”

“Yes, Jinah? Something important?” you ask, eyebrow cocked.

“R-right. These are some other forms you need to sign, and, um… that conference call is starting in twenty minutes.”

“Cool. Is that all?”

“Um. Y-yeah?”

“Are you not sure?”

“No, yes! T-that’s all.”

“Okie dokie. Thank you.”

You laugh and nudge Jinah to walk backwards, watching as her feet seem to move on her own accord, despite the way she gulps, eyes wandering over to Jeongguk eventually, who looks up from his phone to give her a little wave goodbye.

“Uh, Jinah?”

“Yeah?” Jinah replies, quickly and loudly.

“The forms?” you ask, holding your hand out for the binder.

Your secretary damn near throws the folder at you, rushing back to her desk.

“I think you may have a new admirer,” you say, walking back to your desk, setting the binder folder down on the pile of paperwork you’d abandoned earlier. “Hana’s gonna be so devastated.”

“Please,” Jeongguk groans, pocketing his phone before reaching down to grab his shirt. “I’d rather your married secretary than Miss Borderline-Stalker.”

“Dramatic. Hana seemed nice enough that night we all had dinner.”

“One time, Hoseok hyung did a little experiment to see how far her creepiness—”

“You mean, ‘admiration’, right?”

“Hah. Sure. How far her admiration—” You shake your head and laugh at the way Jeongguk curls his ringed fingers in air quotes. “...goes. You know she’d think I’m still cute if I murdered a small village out of sheer boredom.”

“Aww,” you coo, lowering your hand mirror and pressing a hand to your chest while Jeongguk pretends to gag. “She’d really support you through thick and thin. That’s adorable, Guk.”

“You can sleep with her instead then,” Jeongguk sighs, holding your wrist before you can go back to fixing your lipstick, pressing a kiss to your lips. “Call me later.”

You watch him grab his jacket and the trash, walking out of your office with a little wave over his shoulder. You look back down at your reflection in your mirror, rubbing your lips together and wondering why you suddenly feel flustered.

〰️

“I’m surprised you have time to be here, princess,” Hoseok says, not taking his eyes off the TV, blindly reaching for the bowl of popcorn.

“It was either this, or some gala or gallery opening or… something. I dunno,” you reply, not moving from where you’re leaning against Jeongguk’s side, head on his chest.

“You picked our dumb movie night over fancy dress and champagne?” Jeongguk asks, looking at you and reaching down to poke your side before returning his arm to where it was wrapped around your shoulders. “You need to reorganise your priorities, bub.”

“What, you’d rather be in a tux, mingling with middle-aged rich people who think the kind of music you guys make is ‘useless noise’?”

“Okay, fair point.”

“Can you guys shut up? We’re getting to the good part,” Taehyung says, clearing his throat and shuffling closer to Yoongi; Jeongguk shares a look with you, rolling his eyes. “And our movie nights are not dumb, Jeongguk. The only thing dumb about movie night is that you end up sobbing like a little girl after half the movies we watch.”

“I do not!”

“Aww. You’re a softie,” you coo, tickling his chin.

“Stop that,” he groans, swatting your hand away. “It is perfectly normal to tear up while watching The Notebook.”

“And Titanic, and Schindler’s List, and—” Yoongi lists, smirking.

“Shut up! Ugh. You guys suck.”

You chuckle and rub Jeongguk’s chest, letting your arm rest comfortably across his waist.

〰️

By the time the credits begin to roll, the others have all fallen asleep, you and Jeongguk not far behind from joining them. Without removing his arm from your shoulder, he raises his hips off the couch to stretch his back.

You take a deep breath, quietly groaning when you sit up and stretch your arms above your head, the hem of your shirt riding up to expose a sliver of your stomach. When you settle back down, you see Jeongguk looking at you, eyebrow arched, smile playing on his lips.

“Really?” you say, scoffing quietly.

“I am but a man, sweet cheeks,” he replies, hand on his chest. “A man with needs.”

“And I am a woman, sir. A woman that needs to sleep.”

“Fine. Another raincheck then.” Yawning, he gets up and stretches again. “Need a shirt? Or you planning on sleeping in what you’re wearin’?”

You stop wiping the corner of your eye, looking up at him, taken aback by this… subtle implication that you’ll be sleeping over for the first time.

“Huh?”

“You want one of my shirts to sleep in or are you good?”

“Uh…”

“Or do you sleep… naked?” Jeongguk gasps dramatically, lips turning up into a smirk.

“Shut up,” you groan, shaking your head and kicking his thigh. “Such a perv.”

“And I reiterate: I am a man with needs. C’mon. Let’s go to bed.” He laughs quietly at the look you give him. “To sleep.”

“What about these guys?”

“Pfft, leave them. Their neck problems are not yours, bub.”

〰️

You wake up to the smell of coffee and burning toast, a weight on your waist pinning you down onto the bed.

It takes a moment when you open your eyes to comprehend that you hadn’t fallen asleep in your own bed last night, and that the weight on your waist was, in fact, Jeongguk’s inked arm holding you close to his chest. He stirs when he feels you shift in his hold, taking in a deep breath and hiding his face in your hair.

“What time is it?” he asks, voice croaky with sleep.

“No clue,” you say, fighting the urge to fall back to sleep, the warmth on your back seeping through the material of your shirt — Jeongguk’s shirt — inviting and relaxing.

“I bet you ten thousand Won the fire alarm will go off in the next minute.”

“You seem very confident about that.”

“I’m confident in Taehyung hyung’s cooking skills — or lack of.”

You chuckle quietly before flipping over with a yawn, eyes still half shut. Jeongguk loosens his hold on you to let you turn, but quickly pulls you in once you’re facing him, hiding his face in your hair again.

“Let’s go out for breakfast,” he says. “I’m not in the mood for burnt toast and raw scrambled eggs.”

“Why not? That sounds delicious.”

“Fine. You stay here. I’ll go get some french toast and some good coffee.”

“Mmm, french toast.” You hum softly, sniffling. “You paying?”

“Hmm… sure. I got some cash to spare. Gonna have to take the bike though. Hoseok hyung might’ve already taken the car to work.”

“Not the bike,” you whine; Jeongguk chuckles, leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek before sitting up with a groan, patting your ass lightly.

“C’mon. Let’s head out before the other guys figure out what we’re doin’ and try to tag along.”

You open one eye to watch him climb off the bed, picking up one of his shirts and giving it a sniff before disappearing into the bathroom. You sit up with a quiet groan, scratching your head and wondering why your cheek feels several degrees warmer.

〰️

“Woah, woah, woah. Hottie at twelve o’clock,” Jaehyun says, craning his head to peer over Eunwoo’s shoulder, eyes wide with curiosity.

“Uh, you mean hotties,” Mingyu corrects, putting down the glass in his hand, and draping his towel over his shoulder. “Wow.”

“You guys wanna not act like teenage boys?” Jeongguk chuckles, leaning against the bar and pulling his phone out of his pocket, scrolling through his messages.

“I’m sorry you don’t have eyes, Jeongguk,” Yugyeom scoffs, setting his tray down on the bar. “But I think a certain reaction is expected when the heiress of Samsung walks into our shitty restaurant with her friends.”

“Wait. _____’s here?”

Jeongguk swivels around, scanning the dining floor with wide eyes, missing the way Dokyeom comments, who’s the teenage boy now? under his breath when he spots you and smirks. It doesn’t take long for you to spot him, and you scoff quietly at the look he’s giving you, shaking your head and rolling your eyes.

“Boys, I’m goin’ on break,” Jeongguk announces, untying his apron from his waist, grinning at the annoyed groans from his friends.

“We’re literally ten or fifteen minutes away from the Friday night rush,” Yugyeom says, smacking his arm. “Bros before hos!”

“Gyeom… you’re saying you’d pick these guys over _____? Think about it. Like really think about it, dude.” Yugyeom looks at the rest of the group, who all seem to be thinking over Jeongguk’s question too, before turning back to Jeongguk, sighing with defeat. “That’s what I thought. Gentlemen, adieu.”

The guys roll their eyes and shake their heads, watching him walk off in your direction.

“Wait, why’re we eating here again?” Hyemi asks, warily eyeing the sticky menu set down in front of her.

“I was in the mood for inauthentic Italian food,” you answer, smiling and reading over the specials.

“I’d recommend the bacon garlic linguine.”

You don’t flinch at the sudden whisper in your ear, only smiling wider and chuckling.

“Garlic? So close to bedtime? That’s an unusual recommendation, Jeon.”

“Hey. I’m not fussy. I accept you no matter what — garlic breath and all.” He presses a kiss to your cheek before straightening up, bowing his head at the rest of your table, hands in the pocket of his slacks. “Ladies.”

“Hi, Jeongguk. Are you working or are you joining us?” Hyemi says.

“Oh, well that all depends on Miss _____ over here.”

“Hmm… it would’ve been nice to have our own personal server, but I suppose you can stay for a bite of two, if you must,” you reply, reaching for the drinks menu.

“Hmm, well, I can get you multiple personal servers — if you ladies would like that, that is,” Jeongguk says, grinning.

A few of the girls gasp, whispering between themselves.

“The boys at the bar?” Hyemi asks.

“The boys at the bar.”

“Huh. Maybe this place isn’t so bad after all, _____.”

〰️

“Hey.”

“Hmm?”

You turn to look at Jeongguk, smile still on your lips as you cradle your glass of wine in your hand. He’s giving you a look that you can’t really explain, but his arm is draped over the back of your chair, and he’s looking right at you, and it feels as if the restaurant is completely empty around you.

“What, Jeongguk?” you ask, nudging his shoulder.

“I just remembered something,” he says, reaching for your half-eaten slice of garlic bread.

“Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

“I kinda wanna take you out on a date.”

Your eyebrows arch up so fast, you’re sure they disappear into your hair in an instant.

“A… date?”

“Mhm.” He takes a bite of your garlic bread, shrugging. “Been thinking about it for a while. Not really sure why, but… actually, no — I do know why. It’s Yoongi hyung’s fault.”

“Yoongi?”

“Yeah, he said something a couple months back about me needing to get a girlfriend, and to stop annoying you every time my dick twitches ‘cause you’re probably busy most of the time I hit you up. Anyway, I figured I’m twenty-four goin’ on fifty, I’m not goin’ back to school anytime soon, so why not?” He puts the bread back down onto your empty plate, dusting off his fingers. “How ‘bout it? Wanna go on a date with me, sweet cheeks?”

You look at him, too stunned to say anything coherent as it dawns on you that he really did just ask you that.

Jeon Jeongguk has just asked you out on a date.

“Really?” you ask, putting your glass of wine down and turning to face him properly. “You wanna go out on a date with me?”

“I do,” he says, picking up your glass of wine instead and taking a sip.

“And not because you want a new phone, TV, or washing machine whenever there’s a new release… or want to be on the cover of magazines and newspapers every other day… or want me to buy you the newest pair of Yeezys before they’re released in Korea?”

“Well… hmm… actually…” He chuckles when you smack his arm, rolling your eyes. “I’m kidding. No, after what Yoongi hyung said, I actually do wanna take you on a date. I’m curious to see if we can woo each other’s pants off — metaphorically and literally speaking, of course.”

“Of course.”

“So? What d’you say? Will you let me take you out on a date?”

You bite the inside of your cheek, thinking it over. Jeongguk keeps his eyes on you, waiting for an answer, and twirling an unused spoon between his fingers. Eventually, you take a deep breath, smiling and shrugging.

“Eh, what the hell? Sure. Why not?” you say, taking your glass of wine back.

“Wait, shit. Really?”

“Why do you sound surprised?”

“I didn’t actually think there was a chance you’d say yes,” Jeongguk says, laughing. “Um. Okay. Cool. Yeah. Alright, I’ll, uh… let you know when and where once I’ve figured that out.”

“I look forward to it, Jeon.”

#jeon jeongguk #jungkook #bts #fwb!au #huehuehuehuehuehue

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spacedaddymando · 3 years

Text

All Heart and Beskar : Chapter 3

Synopsis: A bounty hunter turned bounty, you find yourself as the assistant to one of the most feared bounty hunters in the galaxy, and his little green child with big ears.

A/N: As always let me know what you think! Its a cute one. Kinda...

Warnings : 18+. Violence, injury description. Nothing too serious but just be aware.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

AO3 Link

(Please be aware, the links are a little bit jumbled! I will change them ASAP but in the meantime you can search #all heart and beskar to get all the chapters!)

[4k words] Chapter 3 - Rescue Me

The first thing you saw when you opened your eyes were two big eyeballs staring back at you. You recoiled in surprise, pain shooting through your body.

“Ahhhrghh.” You let out a cry. The little creature in front of you coo’d softly. You blinked a few times, trying to reorganise your thoughts. You didn’t have much time to think, before a movement by your feet caught your attention. Cold air swirled around you as you were met with the face of a very scary looking helmet. You screamed again.

“Hey! Hey! It's okay!” The man grabbed your legs, trying to get you to stop moving. You stopped for a second, desperately trying to understand what was going on. All you could feel is pain. “You need to stop moving.” His voice was soothing, and you relaxed a bit. “Do you know where you are?”

You tried to prop yourself up on your elbows, pain wracking your body. You fell back with a cry. You shook your head. You didn’t know, and you were scared.

“Do you know how I am?” You shook your head again, and the man hung his helmeted head. You heard him let out an exhale, and the small creature next to you, let out a small cry.

“I’m sorry…” you started to say before the man shushed you. Panic was snaking its way up your spine. You were injured, in pain, and somewhere you didn’t know.

“No it's okay. You had a fall, I rescued you.” His voice was gentle, and he rubbed small circles with his thumb over your knee.

“Oh… thank you.” You weren’t sure what else to say. The gentle caress of his thumb was nice, but you still felt on edge.

“Do you know who you are?” You nodded and told him your name. He hummed in agreement. “And what is the last thing you remember?”

You thought back, digging around in your memory. It all seemed really hazy, like you were watching a dream of someone else’s life. You saw the helmet of the man in front of you in the streets on Canto Bight, a blaster shot and you killed someone, and then fire. You swallowed, tears pricking your eyes when you recalled the memory of your ship burning to the ground.

“I...ugh….I remember my ship….burning.” Your voice was thick, and you were trying really hard not to cry. “I remember you. But I don’t remember you?” The man nodded, his thumb stopped stroking circles and instead he gave your knee a soft squeeze.

“Anything else?” You sat for a moment, lost in thought. You sort of remember being cold, and lots of snow.

“Ice. And being cold.” The man just nodded.

“How are you feeling?”

“Really sore.” Your whole body ached, every inch of it was stiff and sore. You felt like one solid bruise. Your rib cage was in the most pain, and so was one of your legs. You shifted the blanket to look. A nasty red welt streaked across your thigh. You winced at the sight of it. The skin was blistered and weeping. “What happened?”

“A blaster shot.”

“How?” You don’t understand.

“It’s a long story.” The visor never left your face, and you felt small under its unfaltering stare. “You’re safe now.”

You didn’t say anything. Your brain was desperately trying to fit together all the pieces. You felt a tear run down your face. The little green creature gurgled at you and held out his tiny hands. He crawled towards you and you flinched away, not understanding. He let out a soft cry and tears welled up in his eyes. The man reached in to pick him up. The man turned back to you. “Get some rest, I’ll wake you when we land.”

You nodded, and turned your eyes back to the ceiling. Your body was in so much pain. Tears rolled down your cheeks, splashing onto the bed sheet beneath you. You let out a shaky breath and squeezed your eyes shut, willing yourself back to sleep to avoid the pain.

When you woke you were not where you fell asleep. The walls around you were stone, and the bed beneath you was a lot comfier than the one you had fallen asleep in. The room was bathed in the soft, flickering light from a fire. You pushed yourself up onto your elbows. You braced yourself, expecting pain but there was none. Huh.

You sit up carefully, and look around the room. It was small, with low ceilings. Other than the fire you couldn’t see any other source of light. It's very quiet. Other than the fire crackling, you can’t hear anything else. A small tendril of fear begins to wind its way into your mind. You’re alone, and somewhere you don’t know.

You slump back against the pillows and burrow back down into the warm furs. You squeeze your eyes shut and try to remember what happened. You can’t remember much other than talking to...Mando.

Your eyes spring open, and you call out for him. Your voice is rough from lack of use, and your throat is dry. Still your croaky voice carries out around the room. The door on the wall opposite you creaks open, and an unfamiliar woman appears, head peering into the room.

“You’re awake!”

“Where's Mando?” The woman didn’t respond as she entered the room and walked over to you. She tugged the fur off your body and you glanced down. You weren’t wearing anything, save for some panties. You tried to protest and pull the covers back over you, but her strong hand pushed you back down onto the bed.

“Stop. I need to check your leg.” Her voice was gruff, but gentle. She placed her hand on your leg, above a long red scar. “It's healing well. Do you want to see him?”

You assumed ‘him’ meant Mando so you nodded. The lady pulled the covers back over you and walked out of the room, the door creaking shut behind her. You tugged the cover away again to look at your leg yourself. The scar was long and jagged, the skin still puffy from healing. You touched it gently, waiting for pain but none came. You flicked the covers back over you and settled back into the bed.

A knock sounded on the door, and you turned to see the familiar silver grey armor enter the room. A small cry sounded from his arms, and you could see the kid reaching out towards you. You smiled softly at the pair of them.

The man made no movement to come further inside the door. “You can come in.” You patted the bed next to you, he walked in, a huge behemoth of a man in the small room. He stopped next to your bed.

“Cyar’ika.” The word was soft and breathy, even through the helmet. You gaze up at him. He ducked down to kneel on the floor next to the bed.

“Hi.” Your voice is quiet, and you watch his hand come up to stroke your face.

“I thought I lost you.” You lean into his hand, the rough leather pressed against your cheek. “Do you remember what happened?”

“Sort of? It's all very blurry though.” You close your eyes, desperately trying to remember the night's events. When you opened them again, Mando was still watching you. “Where are we?”

“Nevarro.”

“Where?”

“Not important. You’re safe.” You nod. The kid makes an impatient whine at being ignored for the past few moments. You open your arms to him, and Mando lets him crawl over you for a cuddle. You nuzzle his furry head, and clutch him to your chest.

“Hey little one.” The kid purred happily in your arms.

Mando brushes the hair from your face. “ How are you feeling?”

“A lot better than I thought I would.”

Mando hums in approval, his hand still cradling the side of your head. You lean into his palm, closing your eyes. He caresses your cheek with his thumb. When you opened your eyes his visor was still fixed intently on your face.

“Did you catch him?” Mando shook his head. “Shit.”

“He wasn’t part of the group that attacked. He must have fled during the ambush.”

“Do you know where he is?”

Mando didn’t get to answer as the woman reappeared carrying a steaming bowl of stew. She placed it carefully on the bedside table next to you, glancing over to Mando and the small green creature curled up on your chest. All she said was, ‘Eat.” And then she left again.

The kid's nose started twitching as he smelt the food, stirring him out of his nap. His big eyes landed on the bowl before staring up at you expectantly. Mando reached out to grab him. ‘Come here you little womp-rat. It's not for you.” You chuckled as he plucked him off your chest. You shifted so you were sitting more upright in the bed, before picking up the warm bowl. It smelt delicious, with large chunks of meat floating in a hearty stew.

Your stomach growled in anticipation, and you started to eat. Mando watched you quietly, holding onto the kid. When you’d eaten as much as you could, you began to shred pieces of the meat up and passed them to the kid who wolfed them down. “Have you not fed him?”

“Of course I fed him.” Came Mandos indignant reply. “He’s just never full.”

You smile at him. “I was joking.” Mando just dipped his head to watch the kid chew the meat. “What’s our next move?”

“You’re not doing anything. You need to rest.”

“I’m fine!”

“You fell off a cliff.”

“And survived!” Your eyes flickered over the visor, trying to distinguish where his eyes could be. “I’m okay.”

Mando sighed, the noise rippling through the vocoder. You grabbed his hand and squeezed it. “I...we nearly lost you. Just rest for a bit okay?” His voice was small through the helmet.

“But...” Mando stood up, picking the kid up with him.

“No buts. You rest.” His tone was harsh. You stiffened at the contrast in comparison to what he just said. You opened your mouth to argue but he’d already walked out of the room, leaving you on your own again.

You ended up spending another few days stuck in the bed. The woman introduced herself as Rhea, although she didn’t really say much else to you. She appeared every few hours with food, medicine, or to help you stagger to the bathroom. You didn’t see Mando very much, occasionally he’d pop his head in or leave the kid with you. The last part of your conversation had left a sour note on your relationship and you didn’t understand why. You’d tried to talk to him each time he came in but he didn’t respond. His guard was back up and he barely spoke to you, other than to ask how you were feeling.

After a couple more days you asked Rhea if you could shower. As up until then, Rhea had just left a basin of water and some washcloths for you to clean yourself with. You’d asked previously but she’d motioned towards your leg as an answer. It had easily been 2 weeks since the accident and your hair felt disgusting. She agreed and came back with a towel and some clean clothes.

The water was hot as you stepped under the spray. The scar on your leg stung a little bit from the heat but it felt good to be properly clean. You spent a long time standing in the shower, washing and conditioning your hair. When you stepped out your skin was flushed, steam rising from your body in the cool air. Gently drying yourself, you got changed into the clean clothes and padded back to your room.

You settled back on the bed and Rhea came back in to put more bacta gel on your leg. You watched her work.

“How did I survive?” She turned her face towards you, her dark eyes fixed on your face.

“Bacta injection.” She chuckled. It was the most she’d ever said to you. “Works wonders.” She smirked before turning away and leaving you in silence.

It wasn’t long before Mando burst back in the room, dropping the child on the bed. He turned quickly, spinning on his heel. ‘Mando?” He froze, but didn’t turn round. “Where are you going?”

“Business.” And he left. The kid just sat wide eyed, staring at you.

“Guess it's just you and me.” His ears pricked up. “At least you want to see me.”

Mando had been gone for 2 days. The kid stayed with you, sharing your meals, and snoozing in your arms. You weren’t allowed out of your room, unless to use the bathroom and it was driving you crazy. You didn’t want to upset your host so you never pushed it but maker were you bored.

You were sitting in bed, imagining what you’d say to Mando on his return when the door crashed open. Instantly you grabbed the kid, as Rhea burst in the room. Her eyes were wild, and she clutched some clothes to her chest.

“Get dressed. You need to leave.” She thrust the clothes into your hands.

“What?” You pulled on the trousers, and tugged the jumper over your head.

“You need to go!”

“Why?” Rhea’s voice was panicked, and it was scarring the kid. She didn’t say anything as she ushered you out of the room, and down the dark hallway. The stone floor was cold against your feet and it dawned on you that you had no shoes on.

“Rhea? I need shoes…” she ignored you and carried on marching down the hall.

She stopped at a heavy wooden door. “You need to run. Get out of the city and as far away as you can.”

“What why?” Rhea didn’t answer, instead she threw open the door and shoved you out onto the street. You stumbled out, clutching the kid to your chest. You turned to ask her what was happening but the door was already shut.

You glanced around. It was night, the air was warm and the moons cast a silvery light over the street. You stood for a second, listening.

Faint blaster fire could be heard, ringing out through the city. Fear crawled its way up your spine. The street around you was empty, but you didn’t recognize where you were. Nevarro always looked different at night.

You could hear the blaster fire getting closer. Get out of the city. Rhea’s words echoed around your head and you started to walk down the street, keeping close to the walls. The sharp stones on the ground cut and pinched the soles of your feet. You cursed softly.

Shouts and screams could be heard ringing out across the city, bouncing off the walls. What’s happening? You began to run, sprinting through the streets, heading to where you thought the edge of town was. Your feet slapped against the ground, and the kid gripped your shirt tightly. Where’s Mando?

The edge of the town was just in front of you when a blaster shot rang out behind you, glancing off the ground next to you. You swore. You sprinted out of the town, onto the lava plains of Nevarro.

The ground was hot beneath your feet as you ran away from the town. The ground cracked and groaned around you as hot lava spilled erupted out. The kid was crying now, small little wails drifted across the barren land.

“Shhhh shh it’s okay.” You hushed him, slowing down to a walk. You scanned the area, but it was too dark to see if anyone was following. You swallowed, the coil of fear that had started back with Rhea was now full blown terror at the idea of navigating Nevarro at night.

You looked skyward, through the haze towards the stars above. You could only see a few, shining against the pitch black sky. Where the fuck is Mando? You carried on walking, feet sore from the hot ground, trying to find shelter. Mando would find you. He could find anyone.

A screech overhead made your blood run cold. Looking up you could just make out the shape of a huge winged creature circling overhead. A reptavian. You were frozen in place as the creature circled above you. A small whimper from the kid brought you back to your senses and you ran. You knew you wouldn’t be able to outrun it, but a small part of you hoped….prayed… that you’d be able to find shelter.

Your lungs burned as you ran, each intake of breath stung your dry throat. You couldn’t see the ground in front of you as you stumbled through the lava fields, dodging erupting magma. The kid was clinging onto you, tiny claws digging into your skin.

The reptavian flew above you, leisurely stalking you as you ran. You knew there was nowhere to hide from it, not on the lava fields.

You tripped. Slamming into the ground, the kid flying from your grasp. You groaned, rolling onto your hands and knees. You felt around trying to find the kid, you could hear him crying beside you.

Gusts of wind blew across your face as the reptavian landed, flapping its large wings. It roared towards you, the faint light of the lava illuminating its fangs and beady eyes. You scrambled around trying to find the kid. You couldn’t see him or feel him. You screamed into the dark trying to get him to come closer. The reptavian stalked closer, hissing and screeching at you. You crawled on the floor trying to find the kid. You could hear the reptavians claws scraping against the ground, getting closer. It roared loudly just behind you, and you cower into the ground waiting for the final fatal blow.... but it never came.

You looked over your shoulder, the reptavian was frozen. A faint blue-grey light rippled around you. Protecting you. You looked for the source of the light and your eyes landed on the kid. His little arms were stretched out, his large eyes squeezed shut.

A loud bang rang through the air, and the reptavian crumpled on the ground. You could hear the sound of an engine rumbling overhead. You crawled over to the kid, catching him as he fell backwards. A bright light lit the area up and you shielded your eyes against the glare.

The ship started to land, the noise of the engine was deafening. The wind whipped up dust and you curled in on yourself to protect the child. The ship landed with a groan, and you could hear the all too familiar grinding noise of a ramp being lowered. Mando.

You stood up, and rushed towards the ramp, falling into the arms of Mando as he reached the bottom.

“Are you okay?” His hands ran over your face and arms, checking you for injuries.

“The kid….” You croaked out, voice hoarse from running. Mando looked down at the sleeping child in your arms. “...he did something. He stopped the…”

“Yeah I know.” Mando took the kid in his arms, and you followed him up the ramp. Mando placed him in the sling in the cot and turned back to you. “Stay there. I’ll get us in the air and then come back.”

Mando ran up to the cockpit and you slid down the wall of the hull, dropping heavily onto the floor. You could feel the rumble of the thrusters starting up, and the lurching off the ship as it took off. The lights flickered in the hull as the ship climbed higher through the atmosphere.

You glanced down at your feet. They were dirty and covered with small cuts and burns. They hurt. You stayed on the floor until you heard Mandos feet on the ladder rungs and you pulled yourself up, standing gingerly on your ruined feet.

He stepped off the ladder, stopping to press a button on his vambrace. The lights switched off, plunging the hull into darkness.

“M..Mando?”

“Can you see me?” Maker you can’t see anything.

“No…”

You could hear him walking towards you, you stretched your arm out trying to find him in the dark. “Close your eyes.”

You did. Not that there was much point, you could see exactly the same amount with your eyes shut as you could with them open. “They’re closed.” You whisper into the dark.

You heard a soft click, and the sound of air escaping coming from just in front of you. You reached out again. “Mando….?”

He grabbed your hand, pulling you to him, crushing you to his chest. You shivered, the icy beskar pressed to your skin. “I’m right here, cyar’ika.” His voice is different, it’s richer, and the normal robotic tinge from the vocoder is gone. It only takes you a second to realise his helmet is off.

His hand trails up your arm, over your shoulder and round the back of your neck. He tips your head up, and crashes his lips onto yours.

You melt into his arms, running your hands up the beskar chest plate and onto the rough cowl of his cape, pulling him closer. You hear the clang of his helmet dropping to the floor as he cups your face in both of his hands.

You pull back slightly to catch your breath, and Mando bumps his forehead against yours. “I’m sorry.” Mando began, “I should never have left...I just…”

You kiss him softly, cutting him off. “It’s okay.”

“No it’s not. I nearly lost you again.” He sighs deeply. “I nearly lost both of you.”

“Mando…”

“Din.”

“What?”

“My name is Din Djarin. Not Mando.” You huff out a laugh.

“I figured your name wasn’t Mando, you idiot.”

Din chuckles, and you smile back at him. Not that he can see you in the dark. “One thing, you cannot tell anyone and don’t use it outside of the ship.”

“That’s two things.”

“Don’t be cheeky.”

A stabbing pain in your feet brought you back to the present. “M-an...Din my feet…”

Din drops his hands. “Shit, hang on.” He scoops you up and carries you over to the cot. He carefully lowers you down before turning back to the hull to get his helmet. He flicks the light on and you blink in the bright light.

He came back with a tub of bacta and a washcloth. He cleaned your feet gently, before smothering them in bacta. You hissed and wriggled on the cot.

“Stings…” you mumble.

“I know.” He drops the bacta on the ground. “

Once he was finished you flopped back into the cot, and Din passed you a blanket. “I need to set the ship's navigation but I’ll be down in a bit. Try to sleep okay?”

You just yawn in response. Din squeezes your calf and disappears into the hull, switching the lights off, as his footsteps disappear up the ladder to the cockpit.

You don’t hear him come back down, or pull a crate up to the end of the cot. You don’t see him take off his helmet, his hand tracing patterns on your exposed calf. His eyes study your features, as if he’s trying to memorise them. He curses himself for leaving you and the kid. Din watched you sleep, the steady rise and fall of your chest grounding him to the present. His eyes started to droop, and before he knew it he was asleep, propped up against the wall of the cot.

At some point during the night you woke up, peering around the dimly cot you eyes come to rest on a figure at the end of the bed. You can’t see much, expect for a few dark brown curls and a sliver of skin. You freeze. Din. He wasn’t wearing a helmet... You shut your eyes again, heart pounding. You know how sacred his creed was to him, you could feel yourself getting more panicked. You didn’t really see anything though...just hair and skin. There was nothing you could do now, you hadn’t meant to look, it was an accident. He’d understand.

You figured you’d tell him when you woke up, but he was gone. A small voice reasoned that you hadn’t really seen that much, and besides it wasn’t worth stressing him out about it. A small seed of guilt taking root in your mind as you buried the image of his curls. You’ll tell him one day.

#all heart and beskar #mando x reader #Mando x you #mando x y/n #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #mandalorian fanfic #mandalorian smut #mando smut #din djarin #din djarin x reader

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bumblebee-moreno · 3 years

Text

Lovers

After hours of cursing at my laptop, I have finally finished my secret santa fic for @artemiseamoon (hope you like it!!!)

Ezra x reader (written with an AFAB reader in mind, though it’s entirely possible I accidentally made it gender neutral)

Warnings: insecure Ezra, discussion of body image (Ezra), light angst, but mostly fluff, possibly OOC Ezra? idk I haven’t written a lot of him yet... umm marriage is discussed just but it’s left ambiguous as to whether it’s legal or if y’all just decided to say you were 🤷 ...um possible inaccuracies with the tarot content?? i did my research but I had zero knowledge to begin with so idk if I got everything right?

Word count: 5098

A/N: Important!!! This fic is separated into sections... Italics take place in a different point in time. The three middle sections (which each have titles) are to represent each card in the tarot reading, the first titled section (in italics) is a flashback, the second is present time, and the third (in italics) is a snapshot of the future. the beginning and end also take place present time.

before you continue, did you read the author’s note?? it’s important to understanding the fic!!

Ezra lets out a soft sigh, burying his nose deeper into your chest. You card your fingers through his hair, a soft smile appearing on your lips at the way he leans into your touch.

These moments are your favourite: when the weather outside is too dreary for work, and the two of you curl up together on the small cot you share.

Ezra insists he hates days like this. A day without work is a day without pay, after all. You’d always laugh at his complaints.

“Surely a day in bed with me isn’t that unbearable,” you’d always tease.

“A day in your arms,” He’d reply, pressing a kiss to your lips, “is the only satisfactory substitution for a day’s work.”

Ezra shifts in your embrace until he can reach to brush his lips against your neck. You tilt your head, allowing him easier access.

Ezra begins murmuring against your skin. Between every kiss comes a compliment. You have no idea what most of them mean; you can only guess by the love with which they’re said. “There are,” Ezra kisses you again, “no words,” kiss, “impressive enough to describe you, my Star.”

You slowly sit up, Ezra following suit, not allowing any significant distance to come between the two of you.

You cup Ezra’s cheeks, steadying his face between your hands. Softly, as if he might shatter if you’re not careful, you brush your thumb across his lower lip.

Your lover stares into your eyes, almost as if they are the night sky and he’s searching for constellations. Just as you begin to wonder if he’s lost himself, Ezra breaks the silence, his voice barely more than a breath. “What’s going on in that mind of yours?”

“Just thinking about how lucky I am to hold the universe in my hands,” you reply, and as if to prove your point, you pull Ezra into a kiss that is as gentle as it is passionate.

“You are mistaken, Star,” Ezra lifts his hand to your face, desperately wishing he had his other, so he could properly mirror your touch. He places a feather-light kiss to your forehead.

“Oh?” you breathe, preparing yourself to argue when he says that he’s the one holding the universe in his hand. Just as he always says.

But his touch falls from your face. With a feather-like touch, he pulls your right hand from his cheek, turning it to place your palm on your left one. He mirrors it with your left hand.

“Now you hold the universe in your hands,” he whispers with a subtle quiver in his voice.

You drop your arms, lips parting to argue with him; to insist you had it right the first time. But your words catch in your throat when a single tear spills down Ezra’s face.

He tries to swipe it away before you see, but you catch his wrist. “What’s wrong, love?” you dry his cheek with your thumb, allowing your fingertips to linger against his jaw.

You watch the wheels turn in Ezra’s head as he chooses his words. “…Me,” he replies simply.

For a moment, you don’t know how to respond. “…you?”

Ezra nods, pulling away from you to lean against the wall.

“What does that mean?” you try to brush a strand of hair out of Ezra’s face, but he shies away from your touch.

“You deserve… more,” Ezra refuses to look at you.

“I don’t understand,” you search Ezra’s face for clues.

“You deserve someone who can give you everything,” he sniffs, “You deserve more than a forlorn pod and allocating freeze-dried rations.” More tears escape from Ezra’s eyes and drip into his lap.

“Ezra,” you soothe, “I don’t care about any of that.” Ezra opens his mouth to argue, but you continue. “Is it not enough to love each other?” you question, not bothering to wait for an answer. “If I only cared about material possessions, do you think I’d really have stuck around this long? I love you, that’s all I care about.”

Ezra wordlessly stands, shuffling across the floor to rifle through a canvas bag.

“What are you doing?” you sigh. You’re met only with a hollow silence.

After a moment, Ezra returns. He delicately sits beside you, placing a small object in your lap. Your gaze drops to find a stack of well-loved cards.

“Ezra,” you protest, setting the cards aside.

“Please,” the desperation in Ezra’s voice breaks your heart.

“You don’t need a tarot reading to tell you that I love you,” you try to meet Ezra’s eyes, but they’re glued to the floor.

“I just—” Ezra sighs. “Forgive my trepidation, but I need to know… where are we headed? I comprehend that you love me at this moment in our journey, but what about years from now? Will you still be enamoured by me?”

You give in with a sigh, realising that Ezra won’t be satisfied by just your insistence that you’ll always love him.

“I’d like to believe you when you say you love me, but I can’t help but speculate that your judgement may be clouded,” Ezra continues. “Our ceaseless wayfaring, our lamentable career… It’s all beneath you. You deserve better.”

You finish shuffling the cards and lay them in front of you. After taking a moment to examine the spread, you open your mouth to speak.

---

Reversed Ace of Cups

Ezra sat back, frowning at the canvas bag. It was stretched at odd angles, stitches pulled tight. He didn’t even attempt to close it, the zipper would tear right off.

“You’re certain all your possessions fit in here?” he asked. He wasn’t able to fit half your things in the bag, let alone all of them.

“Yes, Ezra, I’m certain it all fits.” You lifted your attention from scrubbing filters to examine Ezra’s progress. Laughing at his lost expression, you crossed the floor to kneel across from him.

“You just have to reorganise so it fits,” you explained, shuffling items around until there was room for more.

Ezra watched your hands dig through the bag. They looked like they’d fit perfectly in his. He watched your eyes analyse your work. Just like they do in the field.

Ezra could tell there was a lifetime of stories behind that gaze. He wondered which story caused that slight frown that only seemed to disappear when you were asleep. Or, perhaps, it was a collection of stories.

“There,” You sat back on your knees.

Ezra dropped his attention to the bag. Everything fit. It was still a bit stretched at the seams, but the zipper would no longer struggle to close.

Something caught Ezra’s eye. He reached in, lifting a deck of cards from the top of the bag’s contents. He removed the string holding them together and spread them out in his hands to admire the art on each of them.

“I, um…” You stuttered, watching Ezra’s fingers trace the worn ink and well-used edges.

“I was not aware that you read tarot,” Ezra murmured with a hint of admiration in his voice.

“Keeps me sane,” you shrugged.

“Would you feel inclined to do a reading for me?” Ezra asked, offering the cards out to you.

Your fingers brushed against his and Ezra’s heart jumped into his throat. The contact only lasted a moment, though, before you began shuffling the cards. You were saying something. Your voice was beautiful. Ezra could listen to you talk forever.

You were staring at him expectantly. Ezra’s face heated up—he hadn’t heard what you said.

“I apologise, I didn’t quite catch that, Star.” He chewed his lip, praying that you didn’t catch on to his train of thought.

You fought the urge to smile at the nickname. Ezra has called you that since the day you met. You always pretended to be annoyed, insisting he use your name. You don’t hate it; you just wish it meant the same thing to him that it did to you.

“I asked if you had a question? For the reading.”

“Oh,” Ezra exclaimed. “My apologies, my cognizance was elsewhere.”

“Yeah, no shit,” you laughed, your usual frown melting away. Ezra’s chest swelled with pride at being the reason you’re so relaxed, despite his embarrassment.

“This assignment is approaching its end,” Ezra took a moment to sweep his gaze across the room that had been your shared home for the last several months. “How should I converge with the coming weeks?”

‘will you stick around?’ Ezra meant to say. But you couldn’t know how he feels. Not yet.

You nodded to acknowledge Ezra’s question before you finish shuffling.

Ezra wasn’t even sure how many cards you laid down.

Even through your concentration, you looked happy. Relaxed.

You began to speak. As you shared your interpretation of the cards, Ezra watched how different emotions transformed your face.

Some of them, he had seen before; the passionate look you get when you talk about the stars, the way your brows furrow in an excited concentration. He only saw your eyes light up like this on occasion; at night, usually. When it was too dark to work but neither of you are quite ready to go to sleep, so you settle on opposite ends of the bed, each doing your own thing. He’d sometimes watch you from the corner of his eye, and when you thought he wasn’t looking, you’d glance up at him with that same look in your eye, Ezra had always wondered what it meant, but has never dared ask for fear you’d stop letting him see it. It was a look that felt rare and intimate. As if only those who you’d trust with your life would ever have the privilege of seeing it.

But some of those expressions, Ezra had never seen on your face. The way you looked when you paused for a breath, it was as if you were doing so much more than interpreting the message the cards were telling you; you were the connection between this reality and the next, watching a story unfold and telling Ezra what he needed to know to make it his reality.

Your expressions confirmed what your words were telling him: everything was about to change. His lifestyle. His relationship with you. Everything.

It should have scared Ezra. But this was the safest, the calmest, Ezra had felt in a long time.

You fell silent, finished with your reading. You searched Ezra’s face for a reaction.

“I love you,” Ezra blurted out before he could stop himself.

Your jaw dropped. “Ezra, I—” You didn’t know what to say.

“I understand if my feelings are not reciprocated. And I apologise if this puts you in a vexatious position, I assure you, that was not my intention.” Ezra paused, wringing his hands together. “I simply needed you to be aware of my feelings towards you.”

You didn’t know how to respond. A million words sat at the tip of your tongue, but none of them seemed right. With each passing second, Ezra could feel his stomach drop further and further into the floor.

“Oh,” Ezra breathed, taking your silence as rejection. He backed away, shoulders threatening to collapse around him. Tears stung at the backs of his eyes. His stomach was turning. How could he be so stupid as to think you’d fall in love with a man like him?

You dove forward suddenly, pulling his face toward yours, your lips crashing against his. It took Ezra a moment to register your actions, and another to react. He was soon pulling you into his chest in a bruising embrace, his lips engulfed yours in a way that was almost overwhelming. Ezra let out a soft moan when your fingers found his hair. His nose bumped yours and his breath tasted like the stale, nearly unbearable rations you’d been living off of for months, but you didn’t care—yours probably wasn’t much better.

The kiss was rushed, desperate. Your teeth kept hitting his. He couldn’t decide where on your body he wanted his hands to be.

You finally broke away for a breath. “I love you too,” you whispered into Ezra’s lips.

___

Reversed Judgement

It’s been years since that night. You’d gone through everything together; Ezra nursed you back to health when you got sick, you’d taken care of him when he, inevitably, caught whatever you had. It’s been ages since you stopped counting how many times you’d stitched each other’s wounds. You’d been there for him when he lost his arm, he’d been by your side for every injury of your own. It has never been a question that you have each other’s backs.

Ezra smiles softly. You’re so beautiful like this. The way your eyes light up as you speak, as if you’re a prospector who has just uncovered a valuable gem. It’s an expression Ezra has seen a million times, but his heart aches to see it a million more.

But his smile quickly fades. You’re happy right now. But how long until you realise you deserve better? You don’t deserve this life. You deserve more than a creaky pod and a lumpy cot much too small for one person, let alone two.

And what about the loss of his arm? The jobs Ezra can take now are restricted, the people who will hire him even more so. In bed, he can hardly figure out what to do with himself. You keep insisting that it’s okay, that he’ll learn. But how long are you willing to wait?

Ezra closes his eyes and listens to your voice; it’s his favourite sound. And the passion behind it now, during a reading? It’s overwhelming.

Ezra wants the rest of his life to be spent by your side. He can’t stop thinking about his future with you. Will you settle down together? Or spend the rest of your lives travelling the galaxy together? He’s not sure which he wants more. But either way, he can’t imagine a story for himself that doesn’t include growing old with you. If he’s honest with himself, Ezra can’t even remember a time he’s thought so much about the future. It’s always been about now. About surviving to see tomorrow.

Why does that have to change now that he’s in love? Why is he suddenly afraid of the future?

You’re happy now. Your kisses, the way you seek Ezra out even in your sleep, how your hand finds his almost constantly, proves how happy you are.

Ezra’s never been this happy. He’s never known someone who makes him feel so safe. Around you, Ezra can put his guard down. He doesn’t have to be so cryptic all the time. With you, Ezra can just exist.

Ezra’s hand finds its way into his pocket. His fingers wrap around a small stone.

He watches your hands accentuate each point you make. Ezra loves your hands. Especially your right hand; it’s the one he gets to hold when you walk beside him. It fits so perfectly in his. He loves the way your hands bury themselves in his hair when you kiss him. He loves how gentle they are when you’re patching him up. He pretends to hate it when you slip your hands under his shirt when you notice how cold they are just so you can press them against his chest and laugh at him when he squirms. Ezra loves that laugh.

He fidgets with the gem. He’s forgotten exactly how long it’s been there, though he remembers the day he got it as if it were yesterday. It was one of your first digs together. The gem was too small to be worth anything. So Ezra pocketed the stone, and it’s become a bit of an extension of himself.

Ezra watches your lips move in sync with your words. He loves your lips. The way they taste against his. The way they trace along his jaw when you’re teasing. Ezra’s kissed you a million times, and yet he always yearns for another.

“My Star,” he’d always say whenever you noted that he could never seem to stop kissing you, “a single touch shared with you could console even the most pained of men. And therefore, what motivation do I have to add to the distance between us?”

My Star. Ezra’s called you that… Forever. Ezra loves your name. But to call you his Star is a privilege only he has. Every time he says it, he remembers the countless times the two of you have laid on the ground, examining the night sky in search of constellations. No matter where you are, you always find a way to stargaze.

Through the window of your shared pod.

Passing glances through your helmet when the air outside isn’t safe to breathe.

But by far, Ezra’s favourite is when the air outside is breathable so you pull him outside to lay on the ground, held in each other’s embrace.

On those nights, you’ll continue to talk about the stars long after Ezra’s coaxed you inside to bed. He loves to fall asleep to the sound of your voice in one ear, the rhythm of your heartbeat in the other. Those nights fill Ezra’s chest with a lightness that washes away years of trauma.

But tonight, the stars are hidden behind a veil of clouds. Rain echoes through the trees outside. It reminds Ezra of the nights you’re curled under threadbare blankets and you’re whispering sweet nothings in Ezra’s ear.

Ezra smiles at this. Rainy days are his favourite. It stresses him that he often can’t work on those days, though in your company, that stress quickly melts away.

Ezra is never happier than when he’s with you.

___

Ten of Cups

“Star,” Ezra calls out to you.

You’re on your knees, elbow-deep in a sticky black mud. “Yeah?” you grunt back, nearly toppling forward into the mud in your distraction.

“The spoils of these pits appear to already have been claimed, and the sun is beginning to set.” Ezra sits back on his knees, pulling his arm from his own mud pit. “I suppose it’s time we get cleaned up for the remainder day.”

Ezra stifles a laugh at your disgusted grimace when you free your arms from the mud. After a brief examination of the sun-streaked sky, you let out a frustrated huff, pushing yourself to your feet.

“Yeah,” you give in. You have to resist the urge to wipe your hands on your clothing. You accept Ezra’s outstretched hand, lacing your fingers in his.

The stream isn’t far away—close enough that its inviting babbling has called out to you and Ezra all day.

Ezra leads you hand-in-hand to the edge of the murky water. He sinks to his knees first, wasting no time in submerging his arm into the icy liquid to wash away the itchy layers of chemically contaminated mud.

With a desperate splash, you follow close behind.

It’s jobs like these that makes Ezra wish gloves were a luxury the two of you could afford. But gloves strong enough to not break down upon contact with the mud would cost a fortune to buy and would require frequent replacements.

And so, after a long day buried in the acidic material, your arms are left itchy and raw. Ezra frantically rubs his forearm back and forth over a rock just below the surface of the water in a desperate attempt to wash himself clean, and, perhaps relieve some of the painful itch. If he notices the blood staining the water, he doesn’t care; in this moment, the temporary relief overpowers the regret that will later come from allowing the rock to break through his skin.

Ezra startles when your hands close around his wrist. Gently, You begin rubbing away the mud with your already clean hands. You’re conscious to take extra care around the steady trickle of blood.

“You’ll only make it worse like that,” you murmur, focusing your attention on making sure no mud is left under Ezra’s fingernails.

“Thank you,” Ezra closes his eyes in pleasure when you begin massaging his raw skin under the cloudy water to remove the last traces of mud.

“Mhm,” you reply absentmindedly and pull his hand from the water.

Ezra stands, hoisting you to your feet and pulling you into your shared pod.

You help each other dry off and spread an ointment over each other’s arms that makes tears of relief spring to Ezra’s eyes. After stripping yourselves free of your dirty clothes, Ezra collapses onto the cot, pulling you into his chest.

You shift until your head is resting on his shoulder and your body is curled around Ezra’s side leaving his arm free to reach what he needs to.

This position makes it difficult for Ezra to wrap his arm around you, but after a long day of work, neither one of you wants to move if he needs to reach something from the rusty bedside table.

You wrap your arms around your lover’s neck. Reflexively, Ezra’s fingers lift to find yours. He silently fidgets with the thin metal band around your finger, which had been returned to its rightful place upon arrival at the pod.

The pads of his fingers trace over the small gem embedded in the metal. Ezra smiles, remembering the cold winter’s day you’d finally said “I do.”

A soft chuckle escapes Ezra’s throat as he recalls the night you’d agreed to marry him, despite the many years you’d spent telling him about your distaste for the idea of being married.

“What’s that about?” you ask, not seeing a reason to laugh.

“I’m so fortunate to have you, Star,” Ezra whispers back, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” You murmur and lean up to press a kiss to Ezra’s jaw, at the same place you always do; the little patch in his scruff, where Ezra seems unable to grow any hair.

You love those spots on either side of his face. “They’re built in places for me to kiss,” you’d always insist whenever Ezra was feeling insecure about his patchy stubble.

“Still?” Ezra asks. “You still love me after all these years?”

“Why not?” You can’t think of a single thing Ezra has ever done that might make you rethink your feelings. Sure, he has his habits that never fail to get on your nerves. But, if anything, that makes you love him all the more.

“You’re not growing exhausted by my presence?”

“How could I ever get bored of you?” You sit up enough to meet Ezra’s gaze. “I love you more than anything. If I didn’t, what reason would I have to follow you on all these jobs and crazy ideas you get to make a living?” You caress Ezra’s cheek with your knuckles. “Ezra, I stay because I love you. Those feelings are never going to change. And, if they do, it will be because I’ve fallen further in love with you. If that’s even possible.”

“What did I do to deserve you?” Ezra smiles softly.

You let out a hum of contemplation. “I’m just here for the kisses,” you tease, placing a brief peck on his lips.

Ezra hums contentedly, and you snuggle back into his chest. After a few moments of a loving stillness, Ezra’s fingers find their way back to yours to toy with your ring.

“Do you remember the night I gave this to you?” Ezra whispers, tracing circles over the tiny gem.

“How could I forget?” You whisper back.

___

You finish your reading and lift your eyes to gauge Ezra’s reaction. A small smile tugs at his lips, but he doesn’t respond.

Silently, Ezra rises to his feet, gathering the cards and stowing them back in your bag.

“Lay down,” Ezra commands. With a grunt, he pulls a strange machine from under the cot. You obey, too curious to argue. Ezra shoves the machine to the centre of the floor.

Ezra switches off the lamp, plunging the tent into absolute darkness. “My mother had one of these when I was a child,” Ezra explains, “I had to construct this one from scrap parts, so it’s not as impressive as the one I grew up with.” With a soft click, the machine turns on and the ceiling is decorated with small flecks of light.

Ezra continues to explain, but you’ve already figured it out. “It’s the stars on Wehouf,” you interrupt with a gasp. Wehouf was where you first met Ezra.

Ezra lays on the cot beside you, wrapping you into a firm embrace.

“You built this for me?” you murmur in disbelief. How did he find time to work on this without you noticing?

“Took me two years,” Ezra presses a kiss to the crown of your head. “The majority of the parts I required aren’t easy to come by in the green.”

“Thank you,” you whisper.

“The entire time I was assembling it, I couldn’t help but meditate over how intensely I feel for you. I never thought I was capable of these feelings. When we first met, you were nothing more than an associate on an endeavour to make a living. I’m not certain when I fell in love,” Ezra’s hand slips under your shirt and he begins tracing gentle circles against your skin with his fingertips. “I don’t think I ever stopped falling. I don’t believe I ever want to. I crave to spend my whole lifetime by your side. I want to chart the view of the stars from every planet, every moon. And I want to do it with your hand in mine.”

“Ezra, I—” You start.

“You could count every single star in the sky, and still only know a fraction of the love I feel for you,” Ezra continues. “And I know you’ve expressed a distaste for it in the past,” Ezra shifts to pull the tiny gem from his pocket. Gently, he slips the metal band around your finger. A perfect fit. “But, I was hoping you’d consider marrying me? I wouldn’t expect it to be legal if that’s not what you want, but—”

“Of course I’ll marry you, Ezra,” You interrupt, shifting to meet his gaze. “I love you more than anything. If it makes you happy, of course, I’ll marry you. And besides, we’re out here alone a solid 98% of the time. So marriage can be whatever we want it to be. Right?”

Ezra breathes a sigh of relief. He wasn’t afraid of you saying no, per se, but he was terrified the question would make you uncomfortable and perhaps cause you to push him away.

“I know I can be an arduous man to love sometimes,” Ezra begins to tear up. “And I still think you deserve better than me. But, you make me exultant beyond any doubt, and you seem content by my side as well. I can’t promise that things will be perfect, because they most certainly won’t. But I will love you eternally, with every fibre of my being. And that, Star, is a promise.”

“Oh, Ezra,” you whisper, “I don’t expect things to always be perfect. I’ve lived with you long enough to know that life will go to shit. A lot. But I’ve also lived with you long enough to know it always ends up okay.” You rest your forehead against Ezra’s. “You deserve more than you think you do. I know you’ve made mistakes. Fuck, I’ve watched you make some seriously questionable decisions. To the point where I sometimes wonder how you’re still alive. But you have more love in this little tuft of hair than most people have in their whole body.” You gently tug on Ezra’s little blond patch of hair to emphasize your point. “And that’s all I care about.” You finish with a brief but passionate kiss.

Ezra doesn’t know how to respond. Tears threaten to escape down his cheeks. “Fuck,” he sobs, pulling you closer until your nose is buried in his neck. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Ezra,” you hum.

Your fingers begin to toy with the ring on your finger. “How’d you manage to get this?” Ezra doesn’t even have to see to know what you’re talking about.

“The gem is from one of our first digs together,” He explains. “It was too diminutive to sell, but I couldn’t bring myself to dispose of it. I got it fixed with a ring two planets back.”

“That must’ve cost a fortune,” you say, suddenly feeling a bit guilty that he felt the need to do such a thing to please you. Sufficient jewellers aren’t easy to find this far out, and because of that, it can be quite expensive to so much as repair a simple ring.

“Nearly depleted my personal savings,” Ezra answers. “But I couldn’t think of a superior way to spend it; now whenever my gaze falls upon your hand, I am reminded of our years spent in each other’s presence.”

“You didn’t have to,” you kiss the soft skin at Ezra’s neck. “I’d have married you without it.”

“Do you not like it?” Ezra asks with a touch of panic to his voice.

“Oh, I love it,” you reassure. Ezra visibly relaxes. “I love everything you get for me.” You pull the ring off your finger to inspect it as you talk. It’s a simple band, with just enough width to have room for the gem embedded in the smooth metal. Upon closer examination, you find a tiny engraving inside. ‘I love you, my Star.’ “I love everything you do for me,” you turn your head to admire the speckles of light above you. You return the ring to your finger. “I always will. Just know I don’t expect to be spoiled. I enjoy it, but your love is enough for me.”

“I know, my Star,” Ezra sighs. “I can’t provide you the life of luxury you deserve. I enjoy doing what I can to make up for it.”

“I have everything I want right here.” You snuggle deeper into Ezra’s chest to admire the stars projected across the ceiling.

He doesn’t respond. For a few moments, the only sounds are the rain, the soft whirring of the star machine, and your breaths combined with Ezra’s. You never saw yourself in this position. But Ezra has a way of turning the lives of those around him upside down. And for you, it somehow feels right.

“I love you, my Star.”

“I love you too, Ezra.”

#ezra prospect #pedros12daysofchristmas #ezra x reader #Pedro Pascal

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secret-rendezvous1d · 3 years

Note

Hiii I’ve got this really important exam tomorrow that will decide if I get my degree this year or not. Could you do a blurb about Spence comforting his university girlfriend who’s having a panic attack after she scattered her notes everywhere..?? Xx

Good luck, lovely! I’ll be thinking of you!

He’s startled.

The guttural and broken scream that comes from behind her closed bedroom door, that sounds pained and frustrated and angry, tears him from his book. His attention lifting from the paperback book on his lap to the wood of the door at the rear of the layout of her home, his eyes widening with shock because he was not expecting to hear that break the comfortable silence that filled her flat, listening close to the gentle sobs and the out of rhythm breaths that she tried to take.

He stands to his feet, everything being discarded on her sofa and his hot coffee being left behind on the coffee table because there was something (or should he say someone?) who was a little more important right now.

“YN?”

“Shit,” he hears her whisper from behind the door barricading them apart, “I forgot you were here, Spence, I’m sorry.”

His hand wraps around the doorknob and he opens the door, stepping foot into the bedroom and seeing scattered paper and pens and rulers and highlighters and balled up class notes, that she crumpled up in distress, strewn across the floor. He takes one look at her and he doesn’t need to use his profiling skills to see how much she was struggling; her hair had been tugged on because soft tendrils were falling down beside her face, her eyes were red-rimmed and they looked sore and they paired well with the tear streaks on her cheeks, the dip in the pillow had been where she laid a fist in pure frustration and the way she sat all hunched over was like she couldn’t be bothered to try anymore.

“What’s happening?”

“Nothing,” she murmurs, rubbing her eyes with the palms of her hands and letting a sigh escape her mouth; that excuse definitely wouldn’t cut it right now and his face told her that, “fine, okay. I can’t do this anymore, Spencer. This is killing me.”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” he states, bending down to pick up the test paper he had printed out for her back at his office at the BAU. The pages were all out of order but it wasn’t anything major because he could reorganise them whilst she cleaned up her face and took a little break from her bedroom to get some fresh air. “You’re overworking yourself. No wonder you’re getting so frustrated.”

“My exam is tomorrow morning, Spencer. I need to revise until the last minute otherwise I’ll fail,” she states with a little harsh tone behind her voice and, for the first time since he entered the room, she looks at him and studies his face and feels her heart ache because he was trying his best and she felt awful for shouting and being stern. His face dropping for a brief second, arms full of the paper and the stationery she had thrown across the room, before he regains a smile and sets her things down. “I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head and leans down, cupping her chin with his palm and he presses a kiss to her hairline, feeling her head tilt into his touch. He wished he could help but there was only so much he could do; if he was allowed to take the test for her then he would, in a heartbeat. He hated to see her in such a state of panic, working herself into a rut where she could only focus on why she wasn’t going to pass and why failing was what she was best at, and there was nothing he could do to help apart from help her remember the important parts.

“You’re going to do so well. And I’ll be right there tomorrow, waiting outside for you to finish, ready to take you for lunch like you deserve,” he says and he sits beside her on the bed and rests a hand on her thigh, squeezing it softly, “you’re going to pass this test with full marks. I know so. You’ve worked so hard for it.”

“You think so?”

“I know so,” he looks at her and grins, “we can be geniuses together.”

“Who knows, I might take over your spot in the FBI,” she teases and looks at her with an amused face pinching his features, “I’m joking.” xx

#spencer reid chats #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagines #matthew gray gubler imagines

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massivelycreepypineapple · 4 years

Text

That Damn Video

Request: uh, hi !! um can i ask for a request ? maybe dean & sam are going through some old dvds of reader before she was hunter ( in her teens ) & in a video maybe reader was singing "bubble gum bitch" by marina & then fluffy dean 😌

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader, Sam Winchester x Fem!Reader (platonic)

A/N: Hope you enjoy this!! Damn this song is stuck in my head now! -.-

Feedback is welcome!

Word Count: 1721

❅ ❅ ❅

“What are you doing?” Asked Sam startling Dean.

“Ouch!” Came a muffled replied as Dean hit his head inside the wardrobe. He nearly had his entire body inside going through some things, grunting and groaning when Sam showed up out of the blue. He pulled his head out and glared at Sam. “Give a guy some warning, would you?”

“Well, you’d hear me coming if you weren’t busy trying to get inside the wardrobe.” Quipped Sam amused.

“I’m trying to make some space. It’s great that Y/N moved into my room, but damn she has a lot of things.”

Sam chuckled at that walking closer to take a look, “Need help?”

“Yes! These clothes are going to kill me!”

“Death by bra. Sounds about right for you.” Smirked Sam helping him with a box.

“Shuttup.”

Y/N and Dean have been dating for 6 months now and only a month ago, Y/N moved into Dean’s room. They wanted to take it slow and even if they lived together in the same place and loved each other, going back to their own rooms at the end of the day gave them that bit of space to get their heads straight. Dating while being a hunter never ended well and they agreed that slow was a nice way to start their relationship.

5 months later after Dean nearly died in a hunt, they decided that they didn’t have all the time in the world and they would rather spend every single second they got. With that, Y/N moved into his room. But with her came a buttload of things that took up so much of space and poor Dean soon found his clothes getting lost with hers. So when Y/N left to help Ellen and the girls with a hunt, Dean figured he’d reorganise their room and make it homely to the both of them.

“Hey what’s this?” Asked Sam holding a box of old dvds that he found hidden in the depths of the wardrobe.

Dean shrugged at it confused, “Never seen them before. Must be Y/N’s.”

“Oh my god, Dean. The box says home videos!” Sam grinned widely, noticing the other side of the box.

“Shit, we have got to watch these!” He grinned mischievously. He quickly snatched it out of his hands and walked out of the room, heading to the Dean cave.

“What about reorganising?” Sam followed him.

“Screw that! I got a feeling we just struck gold.”

They walked into the Dean cave. Dean was all giddy, barely able to control his glee as he put one of the dvds in. They got themselves comfortable as the video started.

It started with a 5yr old Y/N showing off her brand new dress. Her mom was recording her as she did her adorable version of a cat walk. She was giggling as her parents cheered her on. It was extremely cute

The boys kept going through the dvd and watched as Y/N grew older. They kept giggling and discussing how to embarrass her once she came back home. Midway Sam got up to make some popcorn and the boys agreed that watching adorable little Y/N and her shenanigans was better than any movie they could think of.

An hour into it, they put in the last dvd into the player and what they came across was by far the best thing they had ever seen.

A shy 12yr old Y/N with heavy make up and wearing a bright pink shiny jumpsuit came on screen.

“If you do this, we’ll go skiing this weekend.” Her mom’s voice was heard.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this.” She mumbled, face turning red.

“But you do it so well, baby. Now come on!”

Y/N rolled her eyes and her mom started the music in the background and handed her the mic. Soon Y/N began singing the most amazing song ever heard. She was doing it so well with the attitude, dance and everything. And then the chorus came, Y/N’s kid voice making it even better.

“I’m Miss Sugar Pink, liquor, liquor lips

Hit me with your sweet love, steal me with a kiss

I'm Miss Sugar Pink, liquor, liquor lips

I'm gonna be your bubblegum btch

I'm gonna be your bubblegum btch”

“Okay, I’m done!” Yelled Y/N. “I’m getting out of this stupid dress!”

“Aww come on! Just finish the song!”

“Moooom!”

“Hey, it’s your dad’s birthday gift, you know how much he loves this song. Especially when you sing it, baby.”

“I’m making him a card like a normal person.” Y/N grumbled and stomped away, making her mother laugh. The camera followed her for a bit before turning to her mom’s face who said, “Well, honey, I tried but your daughter is as stubborn as you.” Before cutting.

There was silence in the bunker when the video ended. Dean and Sam looked at each other in shock before bursting with laughter. Dean laughed so hard he fell off the couch.

“That’s the future mother of your child, Dean.” Laughed Sam clutching onto his stomach.

“I can’t believe she kept these videos from me!” Grinned Dean. “Oh man, she’s never going to live this down!”

__________

That evening Y/N came back from the hunt.

“Boys! I’m home!” She yelled coming down the stairs.

She dropped her bags at the bottom of the staircase and made her way to the kitchen. She could hear Sam and Dean talking in there. She walked in, smelling something delicious.

“Hey baby!” Greeted Dean

Y/N went up to him and wrapped her arms around him. He kissed her forehead and hugged her tight. “I’m glad you’re back and safe. Missed you.” He said.

“Missed you too. Something smells good.”

“I’m making lasagna. Your favourite.” He grinned proudly.

“You’re the best, baby” She grinned back.

“Get a room, guys.” Mumbled Sam.

“Love you too, Sam.” She smiled and hugged him too.

“How was the hunt?” He asked.

“It was a cake walk and I kicked some butt.” She smirked proudly.

“That’s my girl!” Cheered Dean

She took a seat beside Sam, exhausted from the hunt. As soon as she sat down Sam pulled out a pink box and offered it to you.

“Want some bubblegum, Y/N?” He asked keeping a straight face so she wouldn’t suspect anything.

“No thanks, Sam.”

“You sure?”

“Very.” She looked at him confused.

“Come on! Take one.” He insisted.

“Sam! What’s with you?” She glared at him.

“Don’t be a bubblegum btch, Y/N.” He looked at her pointedly, making Dean snort as he cooked.

“What?” She looked at them both suspiciously.

Sam simply shrugged at her and smiled innocently.

“Dean your brother is being weird again.” She said looking helplessly at Dean’s back.

“He came out all weird.” Dean chuckled. “But really, you sure you don’t wanna have some gum, Ms. Sugar Pink?

Sam lost it at that.

“W-where did you get that?” She asked looking wide eyed at him.

“Oh I don’t know” he said nonchalantly turning out and picking up the dvd from the counter. “Maybe something to do with this home video?”

She jumped out of the chair looking shocked. “Dean.” She started slowly. “Where did you find that?”

“Sammy found it in our wardrobe.” He grinned.

“WHY?! Just why Sam?! Why were you in our wardrobe?!” She glared at him.

“Hey!” Sam jumped to his defence. “Dean wanted help in reorganising the room!”

“What?!” She snapped at Dean.

“Yeah it was a mess, N/N. So I brought in Sam to help out, which by the way is still not done fyi. Anyway, we were going through the wardrobe and guess what was tucked away in the bottom under all those clothes?” He had a shit eating grin.

“Please don’t tell me you watched them all.”

“Oh Y/N, baby, of course we did!”

She groaned at that covering her face.

“You sure got the attitude for that song, N/N” Quipped Sam.

“You!” She pointed at Sam. “You shut up! And you!” She pointed at Dean. “You’re in so much trouble, Winchester!”

“Aww are you going ‘chew him up and spit him out’?” Mocked Sam laughing.

“Argh. It was a gag gift for my dad!” She looked at them helplessly.

“Yeah something like that was mentioned.” Smiled Dean genuinely.

“My mom had a very quirky sense of humour and I almost always ended being used for embarrassing stuff.” She mumbled.

“You were so adorable though.” Said Dean pulling her into his arms. He could tell that she was very embarrassed and felt a little bad about teasing her.

“Shuttup.” She mumbled into his chest.

“It’s true. You were a cute kid, Y/N” Smiled Sam, patting her shoulder.

“I can’t believe you two morons found it.” She fake glared at them again.

Sam grinned, “we’re very glad we did.” He then excused himself to go take a shower.

“I meant it though, you were very very adorable. And you nailed that song, baby” Dean grinned wrapping his arms around her waist.

She shrugged at him still embarrassed. “I actually wanted to be a singer when I was 12.”

“Really?!” He asked surprised.

“Yeah. But a year later my parents died and I got thrust into the hunter life when Bobby found me.” Y/N said looking down.

Dean lifted her chin up and kissed her hard, “I think you’d have made a great singer." He said making you giggle.

“I love you, Dean.”

“I love you too, Ms Sugar Pink.” He smirked, earning a smack on the chest.

____________

That night as they laid in bed with Y/N resting her head on his chest, Dean began humming to the song. He suddenly felt a smack on the forehead.

“Oww! What was that for?!”

“We will never speak of or sing this song again.” She said glaring at him.

“It’s a catchy song, N/N!”

“Never! And make sure that brother of yours keeps his mouth shut before I do it for him.”

“Fine, fine.” Dean sighed. “Man you really popped my bubblegum heart” He whispered 5 seconds later earning another smack.

❅ ❅ ❅

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@hobby27 @akshi8278 @svmwinchesterr

#supernatural #supernatural fic #supernatural x reader #spn #spn fic #spn x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #reader insert #female reader #y/n #fluff #dean x reader

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dingobait · 4 years

Text

SPN 15x20 - rewrite script notes ‘Carry On’

SPN 15x20 - rewrite.

Saving Cas from the empty is the only thing left for Dean and Sam to do.

2735 words: script notes- Destiel, Fixit, Happy, All the gangs here to help saving Cas. Half Ficlet / half mad writings of a grieving Fan requiring happiness and true love and closure- gonna use this as the starting point for some writing practice and probs eventually write a fan / spec script.

Id start it with Dean on the road, fuming and stewing over his grief for Cas. Ignoring Sams calls. Maybe a moment where he hesitates near the trunk of the Impala when Sam comes out of the bunker to be like ‘Dude?! Stop ignoring me!’ And Dean guiltily hides what will later be revealed as Cas’ coat.

All the alternate world hunters are staying in the bunker and established as being back. They’re reorganising, gathering info figuring out what’s changed in this new world post dusting. Sam can’t keep his eyes off Eileen as she works. He keeps getting distracted and almost missing the table when trying to put down his coffee mug. Not wanting to miss a word she signs. She gives his wrist a gentle squeeze when she moves past him, signing that ‘She’s not going anywhere, Promise’.

The bunker is too crowded for Dean, too noisy, he gets busted sitting in Cas’ room, holding the mixtape between his hands.

Sam and he talk about feelings, well they talk around feelings at least. The ‘I love you’ confession will be saved for the very end for Cas’ ears only.

Our inciting incident of the episode starts off screen. Deans choking on his words about missing Cas, Sam amazed at how many words he’s finally coaxed out of his brother- and then from the other room there’s shouts of shock and alarm- there’s a dark smear growing in the air of the main room of the bunker. And for a brief moment a face struggles to push itself out of the muck- Dean and Sam arrive in the room just as the goo shimmers like oil vapours in the air and disappears. Cas? Deans afraid to voice it aloud but Charlie beats him to it. Sams nodding. Freaked out. Everyone agrees it looked like Cas.

They have a smear of the Empty left behind to work with. And A room full of witnesses who all want to help.

Jack shows up saying ‘so sorry I can’t play favourites’ while clearly playing favourites and guiding them to the book that contains the magical solution they need (ala Cas’ telling Dean about the arch angel attached to the profit Chuck in season four, ‘so sad I can’t help WINK if only I could ‘continues to give gives blatant info haha)

For the first step of the spell, we’d need a psychic to establish a tether to the Cas in the empty, we’d have to go and check in on the Wayward Sisters to ask for Missouris’ granddaughters help. We’d see Kia and Claire together as a couple, and Sam would catch Dean looking at them trying to hide how happy they are in the face of Deans misery.

Patience needs something of Cas’ to create a tether, Sam freaks that they don’t have anything with them and Dean has to clear his throat twice to get the words out that he does.

He retrieves the trench coat from the trunk. (Or maybe his own jacket with the bloody handprint still on its shoulder- Sam’s all ’ew dean you still haven’t washed this?!’)

The first part of the spells in place. Patience says something cryptic to Dean as she hands back the trenchcoat, his grip is perhaps a bit too tight to be read as anything but casual. Jodys attempt at getting Dean to open up is less subtle, everyone’s trying to get Dean to admit If he’s okay or hurting or something worse.

‘You’ve gotta talk about it eventually’, but Sam can see the explosion building in Dean, but then it’s an implosion as instead of getting mad Dean just shuts down, shoulders caving in, and Dean just has to go

‘Pick you up later Sammy’ and he’s out the door.

We finally see the tears once he’s alone in the car

Driving, he almost hits the smear of black ooze absorbing the glow of the impalas headlights growing in the middle of the road, he skids and frames the scene with the headlights, jumping out of the car as Cas tries once again to pull himself from the empty, this time the oil parts slightly and Cas’ hands push through, Dean sprints forward, and almost has Cas’ hand tightly in his own before the oozey hole in the universe blinks back closed.

Jack will pop in briefly, commenting about how how well the first part of the spell worked with Patience’s help. He’d plant another hint about the next step of the spell, and Dean would sheepishly head back to pick up Sam to tell him the news.

Together the whole gang discuss the case over a family dinner, food everywhere, no more emotional pushing from anyone, Dean’s allowed to stay quiet and is offered additional serves as everyone brainstorms how to interpret / fulfil the next step of the spell to save Cas.

Sam quietly checks in with Dean, elbowing him as Jody and Donna and the girls talk at the other end of the table. Sam assures Dean that everyone didn’t mean to freak him out earlier and Dean cuts him off.

‘I think I needed the reminder that we’re in this together’ he admits.

Sam agrees, ‘You’re not the only one who wants Cas back Dean.’

With Charlie’s remote hacking help, we find the location of next relic we need / the next spell component. We see Stevie helping with the research, we see Bobby breaking a code and Garth adding some new piece of lore that’s vital to the puzzle.

We have a classic heist sequence with Dean and Sam doing what they do best, breaking into places to steal shit from museums. It’s dope, music sequences and everything ending with Dean almost tripping a lasor sensor before Sam pulls him back at the last moment. Dean thought he saw another hint of Black ooze and drawn to it like a moth to a flame.

Later on the side of the road and with the first hint of hope /excitement from Dean, we preform the next part of the spell.

Almost instantly, another black ooze rifts appears, Cas struggles to pull himself free, but this time Sam and Dean manage to grab his arms together, they pull with all their might, the ooze is retreating back from Cas’ shoulders, neck, and slowly his face, and we finally see the fight in his blue eyes, the desperate hope, struggling to get back to our world.

Dean and Cas make eye contact, Deans grip on his arm turns bone tight- but the ooze is reclaiming Cas’ throat, cutting off his attempt at Deans name. A deep voice rumbles from beyond the rift ’I said forever!’- and SNAP! The ooze rift slams back shut. And dean and Sam are left sprawling on the ground.

Deans hands close on handfuls of dirt and grass, and then Jack appears. Jolly and smiling.

‘That was very close! I almost thought you wouldn’t need the final spell component!’

‘A rare dagger and one other other thing is required to walk through the Empty unscathed.’ Jack hands the the dagger to Dean. He weighs the stone dagger in his hand.

‘Whats the other requirement?’

’Love willingly given’ Jack tells him and Dean gives a wobbly grin and just nods and opens his mouth to say something but Jack shakes his head, ‘no, I’m not the one who needs to hear it’.

Sam thanks Jack for his help making things right as Dean walks back to where the oozey tear appeared. He clears his throat, once twice, gripping the ancient dagger in his hands. He turns back to Sam and Jack who confer back and forth, Jack looks over and just nods back towards the afflicted space, a ‘go on you can do it’ but they both give Dean his space.

Dean flips the dagger about, changing the grip with finesse and gathers himself. He stares at the point in space that had so recently held Cas.

‘We’re not done yet’ Dean finally admits as he stabs the dagger into the air and slices through universe, the dagger vibrates in his hands, the rift trying to resist, but Dean leans into it, whispering

‘it’s my turn to save your, ass you ass’ and the dagger slices clean through the worlds.

Dean steps through the door he’s created, the void empty sans his own reflection beneath him, but the daggers glowing in his hand now, a beacon that grows hot and cold as he waves it before him. Dean follows the bacon of light, and meets Cas half way, the angel is struggling against the ooze at a snails pace, drowning in the thick liquid and Dean grabs his shoulder and heaves, using the dagger to hack at the muck, and then Cas is falling into him and this time Dean drags Cas through the darkness, a perfect reproduction of Cas herding Dean through the halls of the Bunker when Billie came after them, but now Dean’s the one to throw Cas to safety through the door before leaping through it just a footfall behind him.

And they land in a tangle of limbs in the grass on the side of the highway with Jack and Sam watching on.

‘Ow’ Cas says in his familiar deep rumble. Dean chokes back a half gasped laugh as he lifts himself of Cas’ chest, but then - movement from the corner of his eye. He spins, blade in hand.

An arm of ooze streaks out towards Cas, greedy and grasping but Dean cleaves it in two before stabbing the dagger into the ground at the base of the rift. The rift blinks out of existence and we’re left alone on the side of the road.

Cas lays on his back, blinking up at the night sky. ‘So It worked?’ Dean looks down at him, grabbing his hand and pulling him into a clumsy seated embrace, Dean buries his face in Cas’ shoulder.

‘Hello Dean’ he says warmly. Dean gasp laughs into Cas’ shirt collar.

’You can have it. You’ve always had it.’ He whispers the words into Cas’ neck who stiffens in surprise, looking down at Dean incredulously as Sam and Jack engulf them all in a full embrace. Any other words are stuck in Deans mouth.

’It’s been too long!’ / ’Welcome home!’ a sweet short lived reunion. They get up, Sam jumping on his phone to spread the good news as he walks back to the car, Jack explains the status quo. Giving Cas a wonderful speech about well deserved places in the world and how if you’re lucky you can carve out a family of your own and he thanks Cas for being a wonderful dad and promises that they still have to work to do and he of course he’ll be around.

But eventually he catches on to the energy in the night air, Dean hovering over Cas’ shoulder, Jack ‘Jacks’ and states an obvious ‘ohhhh this is one of those situations Sam told me to help facilitate, I’m going to * obvious wink* remove myself’ and he Bamfs out.

And Dean grabs Cas’ shoulder, half trying to brush off the black handprint he’s left there in dirt or ooze, half trying to gather his courage and Cas watches as Dean finally looks up and meets his eyes.

‘They’re hard words to say aloud.’ Dean admits, but Cas hears them anyway, and a surprised heart warming smile forms on Cas’ face, and maybe it’s a little bit wobbly.

‘Love is patient.’ Cas offers but Dean winces. He grips Cas’ shoulder tightly, but forces his grip to relax. His hands settling into something almost soft at Cas’ sides, bracketing his elbows. An almost embrace as Dean leans closer.

‘No fuck that. You deserve’ - he scrunches up his nose at the word, ‘You’re… wonderful. You have to know you’re wonderful- I, goddamnit I’m not good with any of this. You shouldn’t have to be so patient.’ Cas is watching him with a warm smile, basking in the words, in the words he can now see between them, and Deans hands are gently drifting up and down Cas’ arms. They finally settle on his waist. Cas would never tell Dean he could feel their shaking.

‘I love you as you are Dean Winchester’ Cas tells him solemnly.

And Dean kisses him. A brief fierce thing, before he buries his face once more into Cas’ neck, engulfing him in a soul squeezing hug.

We see Deans lips move to form the words we so want to hear, but the words themselves are for Cas’ ears alone as we see Sam watching them from the Impala.

His expression is pained, Half ‘gross that’s my brother making out with an angel’, half ‘my fucking god FINALLY’.

His phone going off in his hands, Eileen and others excited about the news of Cas’ return, and Sam hesitates for a moment before raising the phone. Just as Sam predicted, Dean and Cas kiss once more, the shadows soft about them in the half light on this stretch of remote road. Sam takes a photo and sends it to Eileen… A whole new flurry of texts flood his screen: OMFG WHAT FINALLY?! YOU OWE ME $$$$ and the radios bubbling softly in the interior of the Impala. The first few notes of ‘Carry on my wayward son’.

Dean knocks on the drivers door, Sam jumps and hides his phone guilty.

‘Outta my seat Bitch’ Dean opens the door for him, Sam goes around to get into the passenger seat, only to see Cas already sitting in it, still glowing but trying to play it cool. Cas’ eyes slide to the backseat and Sam humfs before getting in.

‘You’re both jerks.’

Cas and Dean share a look. Sam groans and slumps down in the backseat. But his happiness about the situation is clear.

The music kicks in, the night sky is endless, and the family are together on the backroads of America, ready to take on whatever comes next.

THE END

Maybe a quick shot post credits scene of Gabriel and Crowley and Balthazar exchanging money with all the other angels and demons now awake and creating chaos in the empty.

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dovechim · 4 years

Text

a remedy for mondays 03 (m)

01 | 02 | 03

➾ 8k words

➾ summary: all you wanted was just one day off work. but for that to happen, you need to invent a plausible reason. and then somehow, somewhere along the way, things get out of hand, and now people think you’re having a baby with your co-worker Park Jimin after a one-night stand. confused? join the club.

tl,dr: the part where things start unraveling until they fall apart completely.

➾ warnings: romantic sex, unprotected sex, creampie, cum eating, slight dom jimin, shit really hits the fan in this one

➾ a/n: well well well... look who’s back :”) I struggled for months on where to take this, had a breakthrough in the last couple of days and speed wrote this. inspiration is unpredictable! here’s to the first update of 2020, and more to come!

“Is that all you’re having?” Granny asks with a frown as you finish your second bowl of rice after much cajoling from her. “You need to eat more for the baby! Jimin puppy, go get more from the kitchen.”

You stop Jimin with a meaningful frown. All weekend Granny has been feeding you so well that you feel like you’ve already gained weight. If you’re not careful, you’ll be returning to work with a food baby at this rate.

“Oh Granny, no, we’re already late. We need to catch the train back or else we’ll get back too late today,” Jimin grabs your hand in his as he rises from the table, prompting you to follow his lead. “We should get going now. Our stuff’s already by the doorway.”

Granny only lets you go by making Jimin promise to buy you something else to eat at the train station. Just as Jimin’s mother and father are offering to drive you back home themselves, Granny comes bustling toward the front door in a hurry.

“_____ dear, you forgot this!” Granny is holding a small pink pouch that you recognise as your own, containing all your sanitary pads and tampons that you keep with you at all times as a matter of habit.

Your heart skips a beat because you remember that you most definitely didn’t zip it up this morning, and Granny might have gotten a peek into its contents. You scan Granny’s face for any sign of suspicion or even accusation. If you really are pregnant, then you wouldn’t be carrying around sanitary products like this. Could Granny have already caught on that this is entirely a scam?

But the kind old woman merely smiles as she pats your hand warmly.

“You have to come back soon. It was so nice to have you here with us,” is all she says as she envelopes you into a hug. “I’ll send you some food I made later on in the week. You take care of yourself now.”

Strangely enough, Granny doesn’t mention the baby like you thought she would, but before you can think too much about it, Jimin’s father ushers the both of you into his car, and just like that, the weekend spent with Jimin’s family is over.

When you walk into office on Monday morning to find your desk significantly smaller, it’s not because the Monday blues are playing tricks on you. Your things have been shifted to a makeshift desk half the size of your original one, files and papers strewn haphazardly across its surface.

You look around for an explanation, but everyone has their heads down; typing, clicking and scrolling away. No one looks up for a second, not even when you clear your throat. You sort through the mess to find your laptop under it. Previously with your larger desktop screen to work with while poring over spreadsheets and word documents, you already experienced some eye strain, but now with only your laptop, it’s definitely going to get much worse.

Finally, you decide to approach Jung Hoseok, who is part of the Office Facilities Management team.

“Hey, um… Hoseok? What happened to my desk? Was there a reorganisation that I wasn’t informed of?” Your voice is hesitant and small amidst the austere silence of the office.

The bespectacled man takes his time finishing his email before he turns around. His desk is cluttered with all sorts of paraphernalia, from anime figurines to a mini fan and an assortment of snacks. It makes his regular sized table look tiny, not a single inch of bare space can be seen on it. When he finally faces you, he has a bored look on his face.

“Wh- oh. Your table? We had to make some space for some new joiners next month,” he says as he clicks open the floor plan that details everyone’s seating arrangement. He doesn’t let you look at it for long, though, and as cluttered as it is, you only manage to get a fleeting glimpse before he closes the document again. “A few other people’s desks have been shifted too. Count yourself lucky that you’re still in the same spot.”

“But I need more space. For my files, and I need my desktop screen too,” you try in vain to protest, but you can already see Hoseok’s attention drifting away.

“We figured since you’d be going on maternity leave soon, that it made the most sense to shift your desk…” Hoseok glances back at you, his eyes falling very briefly to your still normal sized belly. For a moment, you can see a flicker of curiosity pass over his features, but then it disappears.

And there’s nothing you can really say about that. You can’t say that this entire thing is a ruse that you made up just to get some time off for a concert. When they say life always finds a way, they were damn right. Life always finds a way to bite you in the ass.

Now your desk is the same size as an intern’s. It might sound stupid to anyone else but having a desk in the office is like having a place to call your own. Where you can put up all your decorations, pictures of you and your friends, cards and notes from your friends that helps to make the day a little better.

But you can’t have any of that now, because your new, smaller desk also means that you don’t have a partition on which to put all the decorations anymore. You swallow back the nausea that suddenly rises in your throat. Your new desk is only a few seats away from your previous one, so if you look over, you can still see Jimin’s head over the partition. He seems to sense that you are looking in his direction, as his eyes peek over the partition and meet yours. You don’t have to see the rest of his face to know that he is currently pouting on your behalf.

You try to ignore how cramped your workspace is and sit down to check your emails, throwing yourself into your work. Your back is facing the aisle, and when people walk up and down, you can feel their curious glances on your back.

Nevertheless, the weekend spent with Jimin’s family has reenergised you somewhat, and you’re able to work for two hours without getting distracted or feeling tired. In the middle of the morning, you suddenly hear a commotion from one of the other teams.

“Oh my god, this year’s bonus is great!! Thank you!!” The Finance team’s newest joiner, Kim Soo-Jung, squeals as she hugs her phone to her chest. “It’s the most I’ve ever had!”

“You all deserve your performance bonus,” the leader of the Finance team, Min Yoonji, says with a proud smile. “You’ve been the best team so far. It’s just an incentive!”

Upon hearing their conversation, you pick up your phone to log in and check your pay slip in a hurry, wondering just how much of a performance bonus you’ll get. Thinking back to all the late nights you spent, weekends burnt and lunches wasted at work, you begin to feel optimistic for the first time in a long while.

But when you scroll down to see the number at the bottom of the page, it remains the same as usual. No increments. No bonus at all. You check that you have the correct month’s payslip loaded, and there’s no mistake.

All around you, people are checking their payslips with excitement on their faces, huddling around with their teams and comparing amounts.

Jeongguk leaps out of his chair, fists raised to the ceiling as he grins uncontrollably. “Yes!!! Best day ever!!!”

“You got a bonus too?” You can’t help but question, seeing as he seems to be the most relaxed one out of your team when it comes to work. He goes home on time every day, takes a long lunch every day, and probably doesn’t even know what overtime is. If even Jeon Jeongguk can get a bonus and you can’t…

“Yeah, didn’t you get one?” He says nonchalantly.

“I did,” you mumble as you turn back to your computer, putting away your phone and ending the conversation in a hurry in case he asks how much bonus you got.

The rest of the morning passes in a slight blur as you try to distract yourself from the burning unfairness of the whole situation. When your stomach reminds you that it’s time for lunch, you glance up to see Jimin walking towards your table with a smile.

“Lunch?” He asks, adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose.

You blink out of a slight daze, realising that you were lost in your thoughts for the past few minutes. Your eyes focus back on the email pulled up on your screen, reading the title hastily.

FREE HEALTH CHECKUP FOR ALL STAFF

“Did you see this email?” You ask, and Jimin places one hand on your desk, leaning in so that his chin hovers directly above your head. The whole proximity of his body is giving you butterflies as he casually drops a kiss on the top of your head before replying.

“Yeah, I did. Wanna sign up for the same day together?”

“You sure you wanna go for it?” You can’t help but have a weird feeling about this as you scroll through the email, reading through all the details. It’s a free health checkup for all staff provided through a mobile health clinic, for selected days and times only.

“Yeah, why not?” Jimin shrugs as he straightens up again. “It’s free. Health checkups like this would normally cost a bomb.”

“I’m afraid they might… you know. Find out about this,” you voice lowers to a whisper towards the end of your sentence, but from the way your gaze drops to your middle, Jimin’s face dawns with recognition.

“Baby, healthcare professionals are obligated to maintain individual privacy. They can’t divulge anything about your health to anyone,” Jimin reassures in a whisper, bending down beside you so that you can look at him more comfortably, stroking your hand in your lap.

You’re still new to this public display of affection, but luckily, the office is pretty empty since everyone has left for lunch. You’re not entirely convinced about this health checkup thing, but then again, it could just be your paranoia from all the bad things that have already occurred this morning. After all, you firmly believe that bad things happen in threes. And right now, you’re on strike two.

Taking a deep breath, you smile at him, pushing away any other thoughts. “You’re right. This is perfectly fine. Which slot should we go for?”

A few clicks later, you close your laptop and reach for your wallet, taking Jimin’s hand as you walk out of office with a few of your colleagues’ admiring gazes on your backs.

“Deep breath please… one, two, three… and out…”

You can feel the cold metal of the stethoscope through your thin blouse as the doctor listens to your breathing. While he does this, you’re left staring at the medical information that you filled out on the form at the beginning of the session, your heart rate speeding up when it comes to the question:

Are you currently pregnant, or expecting? Yes/ No

Your hands start to sweat, and the doctor seems to notice. Dr Cha Eun Woo withdraws the stethoscope and places it back around his neck.

“Is everything going okay for you? You seem a little stressed. Problems at work?” He smiles jovially as he records something down on his clipboard.

“Um… yeah, kind of. The usual stress, you know,” you gesture vaguely, wanting this entire thing to be over as soon as possible. You add in a laugh for good measure.

Dr Cha makes an understanding noise in the back of his throat as he reaches for your medical form, scanning through it briefly. “Let’s see… no health problems, you’re exercising often, you don’t smoke, only the occasional drink here and there. Sexual history is… active, but you’re not pregnant, nor planning to become in the near future, am I right?”

You visibly tense up at his question, and the lack of a response causes him to look up at you.

“Did I say something wrong?” His smile turns into a concerned frown. “I apologise if I made you feel uncomfortable. It’s just the standard questions that we ask all who come in for a checkup.”

You shake your head and attempt to unclench your fists. Jimin is right. This is a medical healthcare professional who is just doing his job. He isn’t asking you because he wants to report you to the company or anything.

“No, definitely not pregnant,” you answer him confidently, conveniently leaving out the answer to the second part of his question.

But Dr Cha seems satisfied, and he reaches to unwrap the blood pressure cuff from your arm. “Alright then. I guess we’re done here. I’ll just let the nurse take a blood sample from you, and we’ll have the results sent to you over text message in about a week or so.”

You were just about to get up from your seat, but you freeze in your tracks. “Bl-blood sample?”

“To check your cholesterol levels, blood count, and generally things that we can’t detect through a physical check-up alone. Is there… is there a problem?”

You almost say that you’re scared of needles, but then how childish would that sound?

Dr Cha is still looking at you expectantly, and there’s really no good reason for you to refuse. So you paste on a smile and let the nurse draw some blood from the crook of your elbow, and then you are out of the mobile health clinic.

As you come down the stairs of the van, Jimin is waiting outside for you, having had his turn just before. You stumble a little on the last step, and he rushes forward to catch you.

“Are you okay?” Jimin’s grasp around you is tight as he sets you down carefully on the ground, pulling back to examine your face.

“I’m fine, just got a little excited for it to be over,” you squeeze his arm lightly, overly aware of your colleagues waiting in the vicinity of the mobile health clinic. Of one pair of eyes in particular, as she walks up to the two of you.

“You should really be more careful, ______! Especially in your condition,” Jihyo from Communications tsks as she appraises the both of you with admiration in her eyes. “Isn’t it great that we have this though? I’m sure having an extra health check wouldn’t hurt for the baby!”

Her probing eyes then travel down to your midriff, and you can see that she is just bursting with curiosity. Before she gets the chance to ask any more questions, however, Jimin puts an arm around you and gives her a polite smile.

“Thank you for your concern, but we should be getting back to work now,” Jimin gives her a small bow. “I hope your health check-up goes well. See you back in the office.”

He turns you around and you are all too glad to follow, leaving the whispers and curious glances behind.

“_____? Could I have a quick minute please?” Kim Namjoon from HR smiles pleasantly, as you look up to find him at your desk.

You save the spreadsheet you’d been working on and give him a nod, getting up to follow him to one of the meeting rooms. On the way in, you make eye contact with Jimin, seeing his curious head pop up from behind his partition.

“How’s everything been going for you lately?” Kim Namjoon smiles stiffly as he sits down, lacing his fingers together. “Pregnancy going okay?”

“Um…” You hesitantly take a seat across him, wondering what this could be about. It definitely isn’t one of those ‘how-are-you’ conversations between two colleagues. The very fact that Kim Namjoon is part of HR makes you wary.

He’s still waiting for an answer though, so you give him a weak smile and nod.

“Thanks for your concern… was that all you wanted to ask me today?”

Kim Namjoon looks down for a second, the expression on his face wavering, before he clears his throat. “Actually, no. There is one more thing. It’s about the medical check-up we did last week.”

At the mention of the medical check-up, your heart begins racing, and you consciously force yourself to breathe.

“We received some information from one of the employees about your medical check-up. While having their medical check-up, they happened to see the medical form that you filled up, and the information that they came across seems to be indicating that you are not otherwise pregnant.”

Strike. Three.

The room suddenly feels like all the air has been sucked out of it. It’s hard to breathe, let alone form a conscious thought.

Kim Namjoon continues, “as you may realise, even though this concerns your private medical information, because there is a rumour that you are engaging in fraud, we are required for audit purposes to investigate this. But I wanted to give you a chance to come clean about it before we request a court order for your medical information to be released to the company officially. I trust that you understand that it would be labourious for all parties involved to go through a lawsuit like that.”

The seconds drag out, and you realise that he is waiting for your response. Your eyes dart around the room, and it occurs to you that you are trapped. There is no way to escape, no way to get out of this situation unscathed.

The jig is up, your secret is out.

“But I… the doctor…” you are tripping over your own words in an attempt to make a coherent argument against him. Something that will explain away everything.

“Give it up, Ms ______. You aren’t really pregnant, are you? You should be further along by now, but you clearly aren’t. Are you aware that you are committing fraud?” Kim Namjoon stands up and leans over the table, his stern eyes fixed on you.

“My medical records should not have been exposed like that,” you argue back, suddenly finding courage from somewhere within you. You’re not going down without a fight. “Anything that I discuss with my doctor is private and confidential. That doctor is in the wrong in the first place for just leaving my information out in the open!”

Kim Namjoon sighs deeply and massages his temples. He sits down with a heavy thud, remaining silent for a moment.

“Fine. I guess we’re doing it the difficult way then.” He pushes his chair back slightly and crosses his legs. “Let’s just say that we received a report that you may be committing fraud. In the name of the law, we are authorised to access your medical records, for investigation purposes. If you really have nothing to hide, you would have no problem letting us see those records, wouldn’t you?”

This asshole is just backing you into a corner. There are a thousand reasons why you might want to keep your medical records private, but he’s using it to accuse you of fraud.

Which you technically are committing, but still…

“Do you really want to drag this to court?” He asks quietly, mistaking your silence for fear instead of anger. “If we do that, then everyone in the company will know that you committed fraud. Your reputation will be ruined. It’ll be on your permanent record. No company will ever employ you after that, you realise?”

He leans forward again, his stare intense as his mouth sets in a firm line. “But if you just admit that you aren’t really pregnant now, and that you made it all up, we won’t have to go there. We can settle this between you and the company, reach an agreement through negotiation. It’s a win-win arrangement for both of us.”

Wait a minute. Is he really…

“Think about it for a second. Do you really want everyone to know about this?”

Well, if he puts it like that… then…

You find it hard to talk past the lump in your throat. “I…”

“All you have to say is: ‘I faked my pregnancy’. That’s all, Ms _______,” Kim Namjoon cajoles. “It’s really that simple.”

Even though you know he is manipulating you, backing you into a corner and giving you a choice between a rock and a hard place… there’s just no other way out of it. Finally, your shoulders deflate and you sink back against the chair in defeat.

“I faked my pregnancy. I’m not pregnant at all.” Your voice is smaller than it has ever been. In all your years working at this company, you don’t think any other moment will ever top this one in terms of humiliation.

“Thank you, Ms _______. You may go now. I will be in touch with you regarding the next steps.” Kim Namjoon smiles, a pointy, satisfied little smile as he stands up to show you the door. Just as you are gathering your composure and getting ready to step outside again, he hits you with another blow. “I think you should take the rest of the week off.”

“The- rest of the week?” You turn to him in surprise. “Am I… is this a suspension?”

“You could think of it as one, yes.” He clears his throat and pushes his glasses to sit higher up on his nose. “We need some time to discuss the appropriate disciplinary measures. Meanwhile, you should enjoy your time off. It was the whole reason why you invented this story, isn’t it?”

The nerve of him. You can’t even hit him, because now he has opened the door and the rest of the office would bear witness to you trying to murder Kim Namjoon. All you can do is smile tightly at him, try to keep the tears from being too obvious as you walk to your workstation, hastily pack up your things, and leave with your tail in between your legs.

“Everyone is talking about me at work, aren’t they?” You pace back and forth in the kitchen, wringing your hands as Jimin prepares dinner at your stove. “They will all know by now. Fucking Park Jihyo. She would have told everyone the second she left that clinic.”

“People aren’t talking about you,” Jimin says calmly, stirring the simmering beef stew.

“And I only just found out now?” Your voice rises in hysteria, hands tangled in your hair as you groan in frustration. “I’ve been walking around like a clown for the past week. They must have had a good laugh about me. I can only imagine the things they’re saying about me now-“

“______, no one has said anything about this-“

“And don’t even get me started on that fucker Kim Namjoon,” you grab the radish sitting on the counter, just because you need something to wave around for emphasis. “He practically manipulated me into making a confession. I’m pretty sure that’s called blackmailing, especially when he doesn’t even have concrete proof. You know, I should have sued that piece of sh-“

“Hey, try this piece of carrot. Is it soft enough for you?” Jimin turns to you with a ladle, expression totally calm, and it only infuriates you even more. His reaction to all of this is entirely unprecedented. You expected him to spring to your defence and storm into the office and beat that fucker to a pulp.

“How are you so calm about this?” You demand, pushing his arm away from you. “Do you not understand the gravity of the situation right now?”

“I do, and I’m anything but calm, trust me,” Jimin sighs as he puts the ladle back into the pot. “But if I freak out too, then there won’t be anyone to help you get through this. You need to stay strong to get through this. And to do that, you need to eat. You’re stressing yourself out and it’s taking a toll on you.”

He insistently offers the piece of carrot to you again, and you reluctantly open your mouth. The carrot is soft and savoury, the taste of gravy melting on your tongue. Jimin raises an eyebrow, watching you chew.

“It’s good,” you say reluctantly, feeling your aggravation slowly calm down as Jimin smiles serenely.

It’s only then that you realise how long it has been since you last ate. After leaving early, all you did was searching the internet for various HR policies, doctor-patient confidentiality laws, and even job sites. A wave of fatigue washes over you as you slowly sink into a chair, feeling lightheaded.

“You need to eat,” Jimin says again, plating up the stew in a bowl and serving rice to go with it. “You’re going to worry yourself sick at this rate.”

He sits down opposite you, hair ruffled from the long day at work, and top buttons on his white dress shirt undone. His glasses are perched on his nose, and they fog up adorably when he leans forward to take a whiff of the stew. He picks up his spoon, looking up at you with an expectant gaze, and you follow suit.

Satisfied, Jimin begins to dig in ravenously, but all you can do is watch. Your shoulders feel heavy, the nausea is back again, and the last thing you want to do is eat.

“Jimin… I can’t,” you say, setting your spoon down. But your voice is no longer angry. “I can’t stop thinking, what’s going to happen now? Am I going to lose my job? Will they sue me? I can’t- I can’t afford to lose this job, the economy is really bad now, and- “

The anxiety has you at a breaking point, and you are nearly in tears.

“Just look at me, okay?” Jimin abandons his food in favour of holding your hand. “Nothing is for sure yet. We don’t know anything. And until we hear from them, there’s no point in thinking about it. Worrying about it now means that you suffer twice. And no matter what, I’ll be by your side. Okay?”

When you don’t say anything, it prompts Jimin to get out of his seat and get on his knees beside your chair, turning you around to face him. When he sees that his words aren’t getting through to you at all, he scrambles around for something else to say. Anything that would make things better.

“What can I do? What do you need?” Jimin can only see your pain as you close your eyes, trying in vain not to cry, again. “Tell me what I need to do to make things better.”

For a moment, you can’t think of anything. But amidst all the racing possibilities of you losing your job, getting sued, and possibly never finding another job again, you just want one thing.

“I just want to stop thinking. All these what ifs… I just want them to go away,” your vision becomes blurry with tears.

“I can do that,” Jimin stands and brushes a strand of hair away from your face. He pauses for a moment so that you can see how plush his lips look, the way his lidded eyes are focused only on you, before all you know is the feeling of his lips on yours. “Just focus on me.”

He breaks the kiss a little sooner than you would have liked, only to kiss your forehead, and you stretch out your arms to him. You cling to him like a koala as he continues to kiss down your neck, swirling his tongue against your skin and wetting it with his saliva, sucking bruises into your skin as he does so. He blindly walks the two of you into the bedroom, setting you down gently before he continues to kiss down your body, pushing your shirt up so that he can see your bare breasts.

“You’re so beautiful, always so pretty for me,” he says as he cups both breasts in his hands, flicking at your nipples. This elicits a whine from you. “I love how you’re so sensitive when I play with your nipples just like this. Even better when I suckle on them.”

He wraps his plump lips around your right nipple and starts to suck, and it feels as if you’ve never had another man treat your breasts with such reverence before. Park Jimin is suckling from you as if it’s the last meal he’ll ever get, switching sides to ensure that both breasts receive equal attention.

“And I love this waist, just the perfect size for me to wrap my arms around,” Jimin drags his tongue down to your belly button, kissing and sucking your skin. “Even better to hold on to when I fuck your pretty little pussy.”

“Jimin, I-“

“I’m getting there, sweetheart. Just let me take care of you.” He smiles against your skin as he kisses lower and lower, till he is at the hem of your shorts. He pulls it down in one motion, and your thighs fall open almost immediately, desperate for his attention.

“I love the sounds you make when I eat you out. How are you this wet when I haven’t even touched you here yet?” Jimin makes it a point to let you know just how wet you are by sliding two fingers through your core, then pulling them apart to show you the strings between his two fingers. “You want me to eat your pussy?”

“Yes, fuck, I want you to eat me out,” your thighs are quivering in his grasp, and he needs no further prompting.

He starts with a flat lick against your clit, feeling you gasp and sob above him. Then he dips down for a taste of your core, alternating between licking and sucking to make sure he gets every drop of your sweetness. Two fingers spread your lips to open you up even more for him.

“That’s it, baby, look at me. Just focus on me,” he directs your attention to him, holding eye contact as he starts to eat you out again, plump lips against your pussy as he devours every inch of you. The tension in your belly heightens, and it’s all you can do to keep your eyes on him. It’s sinful to watch him eating you out like this, between your legs like a man starved. The only thoughts in your mind right now are of Park Jimin, and nothing else.

“I’m so close, please,” you plead with him. “Fingers. I need you to-“

“Shhh, I got you,” Jimin switches his attention on your clit while he buries two fingers in your cunt, and the burn feels good. “Shit, that’s tight, baby. How are you gonna take my cock?”

“Make it fit,” you widen your thighs and grind on his fingers, almost riding his tongue in the process.

“You bet I will,” he says with a dark look that sends butterflies fluttering in your stomach, and then the rest of his efforts are dedicated to sending you over the edge. The combination of his tongue on your clit and his fingers expertly reaching your sweet spot effectively snaps the knot in your lower belly, and you clench around him with a moan, hips rising off the bed.

Jimin does not let up on your clit, he helps you to ride out your orgasm as you pant and gasp, until your legs feel boneless and the aftershocks are making them twitch.

“There we go, it’s okay… you did so well,” Jimin withdraws his fingers and sucks on them, stroking your inner thigh with his other hand. “You always look pretty when you cum.”

You close your thighs for a moment to catch your breath, feeling his soothing touch still reminding you that he’s always by your side. You know that you are far from satisfied, though, and a few seconds later, you open your eyes and sit up, glancing at the tell-tale bulge in his pants.

“Can I ride you?” You ask directly, and if Jimin is taken aback, he doesn’t show it.

“Shit, it would be my pleasure,” Jimin is all too glad to push his dress pants down, lying down with his thick thighs spread. With your help, he gets rid of his boxer briefs, and you immediately seize his cock, pumping it a few times and feeling your mouth water. When you lower your mouth towards it, he reprimands you with a tap on your ass.

“What did you ask for?” He raises an eyebrow, and though you are dying to taste him on your tongue, you can tell that he is one of his dominant moods, and it would be best not to cross him right now. “I want to see you bouncing on my cock. Now.”

You line him up with your entrance, feeling his precum make things even wetter than they already are. Jimin has his hands on your hips, not being able to resist grabbing handfuls of your ass as you lower yourself down on him. He enjoys the cute little grimace you always make when he enters you for the first time, always needing a while to get used to his girth no matter how many times you fuck.

He mostly lets you set the pace but applies a subtle pressure with his hands to guide you down on his cock. Once you reach the base, he rewards you with a kiss to the forehead before lying back down again.

“Shit, you take my cock so fucking well,” he says with pride, leaning back as he watches you start to grind your hips. Your pace gets faster very quickly, and soon you are bouncing on him sinfully, giving him the front row seat of his life.

Your cheeks are flushed, breasts bouncing as you fuck yourself on him, desperate little whines escaping your throat as you try to get him as deep as possible.

“Tell me how much you love my cock,” he demands, hands around your waist to guide your movements.

“I- I fucking love it,” you say immediately, knowing all too well his need for validation. “I love your cock so much- it feels so fucking good. Oh god, fuck, I can’t-“

“Just keep riding, baby, you can do it,” Jimin starts to thrust up into you at the same time, sensing your dipping energy levels. “My baby always does so well on my cock.”

But the previous orgasm has sucked everything out of you. You can feel it so close, but yet so far at the same time. You need this release so badly, but it’s just not enough.

“Look at me, eyes on me baby,” Jimin commands your attention, making you open your eyes as he sits up, his hand on your chin. “Just focus on me. I got you, I promise.”

And you know he’s not just referring to this moment alone.

He flips the both of you over, your hands are pinned to the bed by your head as he maintains eye contact with you, taking over and fucking into your pussy with incredible stamina and speed. He brings both of your hands above your head and secures them down with one hand, and the other slides down to rub your clit.

You can feel every inch of his cock as he pounds you into the mattress, so deep that it feels like it might even hit your womb. Jimin draws back a little so that he can wrap his hands tenderly around your waist, subconsciously stroking your lower belly gently as he fucks into you. Your legs are wrapped tight around his waist because you don’t ever want this to stop. Letting go of all control, surrendering every thought, every worry to him so that he can take care of you like this, that’s what makes everything better.

“Can you cum for me? Wanna feel you, one more time,” his voice his soft now, any edge of dominance gone now as he pushes your legs back. “Cum around me before I fill your sweet pussy.”

“Yes, please, I want you to cum inside,” you wrap your arms around him, wanting to please him so badly. His fingers on your clit are pinching and stroking as he fucks deep into your cunt, and with a shout, you are spasming around him, ecstasy singing through your veins as you let the feeling of his cock filling you full of his cum wash away any other thoughts. The feeling of his cock pulsing as your walls become sticky and warm, his gentle thrusts as he milks his orgasm for all its worth, till the last spurt of cum deep inside your pussy where it belongs.

“Oh shit, that’s my baby, taking all my cum like a good girl,” Jimin kisses your forehead fondly, pulling out of you carefully to admire his handiwork. You would tease him for his cum obsession, except that it’s grown on you too. Spreading your lips with two fingers, you clench your muscles to push out his cum, and you can feel it slowly dripping down to your entrance, until it seeps out in a thick stream.

“Fuck, looks good enough to eat,” Jimin licks his lips as he glances at you, before diving down to catch the cum on his tongue before it can hit the bedsheets under you. And he cleans your sore and swollen pussy up gently, lapping his own cum with every lick.

“Jimin…” your whine makes him stop, giving you a final kiss on the inside of your thigh. “Come to bed. I’m tired.”

Jimin can get carried away sometimes, especially when it comes to eating you out, or tasting himself on you. But at your reminder, he leaves his position between your legs and snuggles beside you, giving a cute little grin before he claps twice, and then the lights are out.

And you sink into the best sleep you’ve had in ages.

But good things never last, and when you next wake up, the bed is cold and empty.

Jimin must have left for work already. A single glance at the clock tells you that it is past 10am, and you sit up slowly, feeling the ache from last night. The bed is cold, the room is empty as you make the lonely tread to the bathroom. But a last-minute wave of nausea quickens your steps, and soon you are kneeling at the porcelain altar.

When you finish, wiping the back of your mouth with your hand, you are lightheaded and can barely think. Everything feels like a blur, but you didn’t even drink last night, haven’t been since you and Jimin agreed that you would let fate take its course when it comes to putting a bun in your oven.

The very thought of it makes you retch again. It’s the entire reason why you’re home and not at work in the first place, and you can’t stop feeling like a fucking fool about all this. Flushing the toilet, you force yourself onto your feet, make some attempt at washing up.

The doorbell rings, and the unprecedented visitor catches you off-guard. But it’s just the delivery man with a hefty package, and he when he sees your sick complexion and raccoon eyes, he offers to come inside and set it down on your kitchen counter.

When he leaves, you tear the box open, curious because you don’t remember ordering anything from Amazon. God, you really hope this isn’t the result of one of your drunken online shopping sessions. If you’re about to lose your job, you really don’t need another hefty bill on your shoulders.

But it’s not anything from Amazon. It’s Granny’s side dishes, from the delicious cucumber kimchi you fell in love with during your visit, to the savoury japchae that makes your mouth water as soon as you smell the sesame fragrance. There’s even a note with instructions telling you how to store everything and how to heat it up when you want to eat it.

You don’t deserve this. Don’t deserve Granny’s kindness, when all you’re doing is just scamming her and giving her the false hope of a grandchild. Tears are brimming, and you push the box away, unable to deal with your lies at this moment.

You head to your desk and sit down.

Because you can’t stop yourself, you click on your email- both personal and work. The first thing you see in your work email makes your nausea threaten to blur your vision.

From: Kim Namjoon (HR)

Cc: All Departments

NOTICE FOR IMMEDIATE DISMISSAL

Dear ______,

I am writing with regard to your disciplinary action regarding your act of fraud. After much discussion, we have decided that the transgression you have committed against this company have been deemed unforgivable. As a result, we have no choice but to request your immediate dismissal.

As for your one-month notice, we have decided that the monetary cost that your fraud has incurred has surpassed any compensation that you might be entitled to.

Your termination is effective immediately.

We thank you for your service thus far.

Best regards,

Kim Namjoon

That piece of-

He cc’ed the entire company. Even though he very clearly said you could work something out with them. It was a lie all along, he never had the intention of this being a win-win arrangement. You stare at the last line of the email with growing derisiveness. Thank you for your service? What kind of bullshit-

The nausea rises up in your throat again, and you have to run to make it to the bathroom. It’s not a nice feeling to be dry heaving when you have absolutely nothing in your system, but the whole act of it takes more out of you than you realised. This is it. This is your lowest point; nothing could ever surpass it.

Your phone is ringing somewhere in your bedroom, and right now the distance between the bathroom and your bed seems insurmountable. It’s probably Jimin. God, how badly you want this to be him, so you drag yourself on all fours until your hands are scrabbling in the mess of blankets to find your phone.

But when you pick up, it’s not Jimin’s honeyed voice that greets you. It’s a cold, sterile, clinical one.

“Ms _______?”

Thrown off guard, you confirm your identity to the stranger. Your heart leaps in your chest as you think that it might be someone from the company, calling to tell you that there’s been a mistake.

It’s due time for a lucky break in your life, right?

But no chance.

“I’m calling with your blood test results from the mobile health clinic about a week or so ago.”

The health check-up that effectively ended your life? Alright.

“Um, okay. What about it?”

“Miss, did you know that you are currently pregnant?”

The world screeches to a stop. But the train of bad news crashes on.

“You indicated on your form that you weren’t pregnant. But your blood test results indicate that you are about two, nearly three weeks along now. Is this a concern that you might need to come in for?”

The white of the tiles in your bedroom suddenly look too bright. The room is spinning, and everything is moving too fast for you to catch up.

“Hello? Miss? Are you still there?”

The ringing tone of another incoming call interrupts her, and Jimin’s picture lights up on your screen.

“I… I have to go.” You press the end call button before staring at Jimin’s bright, happy smile on your phone.

The irony of the situation is the story of your life. It’s just a little too late. It’s always a little too late.

"He-hello? Jimin?”

“Baby! Are you okay? You didn’t pick up, and I was worried-”

You can’t sit here at your desk anymore, with the email just mocking you, the reminder of your fraud hanging in the balance. So you press the phone to your ear and get up, pacing to the kitchen. But then you see Granny’s side dishes waiting on the table, and you feel even sicker.

“How bad is it right now?” You get straight to the point.

Judging from the way he stutters, you know he is trying to scrape together a lie. And then it suddenly hits you. You involved him in this mess, and all this while you’ve only been thinking about yourself. While you were busy freaking out yesterday and needing him to calm you down, you neglected to be there for him at all. You didn’t even think if HR would have their own consequences for him.

Because you swear if Kim Namjoon touches a hair on Park Jimin’s head, you’ll kill him.

He is saying something about some announcement made this morning that didn’t mention you specifically. You stop him before he can sweat any further about how to soften the blow.

“Jimin, listen to me. Did they- did they do anything to you?”

“Me?” Jimin sounds taken aback for a moment. “Why would they-? No! I’m fine. Listen, baby. I thought of a way you can get out of this. We’ll just tell them it was a miscarriage. That’ll explain why you’re not pregnant, but you technically were before, so it’s not a lie, and-”

Even in times like this, all Park Jimin can think about is you. He is selfless, and you don’t deserve him either. He sounds so hopeful about this, as if he believes it will really work. But most of all, you are reminded of how happy he looked that night at his parent’s house, when you and him decided that you would commit to having a baby together. How happy he would be if he knew that you were really...

“-or if you want me to say it for you, I will. I’ll just set up a meeting with Kim Namjoon, and you don’t even have to come in. I just wanted to run this by you first, and-“

“No!” The knee jerk response results in you yelling over the phone. You can’t let him drag himself further into your mess any longer, you refuse to implicate him any further. But your desperation makes your voice come out harsher than you intended to, and the words just slip out. “Jimin- just… stay out of my shit, alright? You’ve done enough. I need to handle this alone.”

There is a stunned silence over the end of the line. “We need to… we need to end this. This whole relationship is a fraud, anyway, now everyone knows and… you better go. Before they find out you’re talking to me.” You wince even as you say the words, knowing that they are not in the slightest bit true. But you need to do this, you need to separate yourself from him before the selflessness of his heart gets him into trouble trying to clean up a mess that isn’t even his.

“I… yeah. I think I should go too.” His voice is nothing like the soft, warm kindness that you have come to associate with Park Jimin. It is cold, formal and it feels like ice shoots straight through your heart as you listen to him say the next words. “Uh, good luck with everything, then.”

And then the line goes dead.

#bts smut #bts #park jimin #bts jimin smut #ksmutclub

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morwensteelsheen · 3 years

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@tinacharles replied to your post:

where would the kings of rohan essentially having to hold together the east and west fold fit in do you think? makes it seem even more precarious than gondor which despite the provinces etc feels a bit more centralized?

Yes!!!! I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately (and holy shit I am NOT a military historian so please forgive however many inaccuracies I'm about to include here, BUT…), and one of the things I’ve been wondering about is if this popular vision of Gondor as structured as a Western European feudal state is a little misleading. Insofar as I can see it now, the fanon take on Gondor’s governance is a little bit like England post-Magna Carta, which is to say it looks like this:

You have a King/Steward at the top, who is imbued with some element of divine justification for his rule. The land of the kingdom is his (in essence--and I mean that definitionally, the essence of the land is his), and is rented out to various other actors, namely...

The aristocracy beneath him. Though the land is technically the king’s and leased to them, in practicality the land (and the peasants attached to it!) is theirs, and because of that, they have an immense amount of power. The bigger and the more resource-rich the land, the more important and wealthier the lord who maintains it. The landed aristocrats (because it is possible to have non-landed aristocrats!) have enough power to effectively “check” the King—and a big part of that power comes from their ability to raise armies. As far as raising armies are concerned, they are led by the aristocrats who raise them, and those aristocrats are in turn loyal to the King (but can just as easily not be, hence the somewhat weakened power of the central authority).

Then you have the non-landed aristocrats, so these are mostly perfunctory titles given to make people feel good.

And lastly the soldiers, the peasantry, the urban poor, etc.

I think that that take is wrong for Gondor—if it’s not technically canonically wrong, then it’s certainly less interesting—but right for Rohan. Importantly, that level of inequity engendered between the power of the aristos and the power of the King would explain, for example, why Éomer (as heir to the Lordship of Aldburg, according to the UT) could be leveraged so effectively by Gríma as a threat to Théoden and Théodred’s power, and it would explain why (at least in part) all of Théoden’s family were so hesitant to do anything public with getting Gríma the fuck out: admitting the King had shown any weakness at all could be seriously risky business. Plus, as you point out, it fits in nicely with the Eastfold and Westfold pulling away from one another—different areas, different interests, and less overall allegiance to a central authority (and a weakened “national” narrative to boot) meaning the King himself really needs to have a vise grip on the regions to keep it all together.

The one place where this falls down somewhat is the decentrality of the army (sorry I'm just making up words every five seconds here lol)—we know Rohan’s army is at least somewhat centralised based on, well, every description of it that we get. We can account for it in this model by saying that while the army is centralised, the economics (grain production, taxation, etc.) are not, so the Kings are still fairly beholden to their vassal lords, AND, we can point to Folcwine having substantially reorganised the Éoherë and say that while he split it into roughly three-ish columns of riders, all he actually did was shift around the numbers for the regional lords to muster and institute an unlanded title (the Marshals of the Mark) to take up the task of administering the army, without substantially rebalancing power within the kingdom. So the bulk of the power to raise the Éoreds still rests with the regional lords, meaning keeping them happy and in line is a major part of the work of the king.

So that set-up works for Rohan, but not for Gondor. Gondor, I think, is probably best organised around [byzantine gondor klaxon] the Eastern Roman themata system. After the 600s-ish, the Byzantine Empire began to make more extensive use of a system put in place by Diocletian that is, as far as I can tell, basically a variation on the US Homestead Acts with a military component. It goes something like this:

Land is granted to soldiers (and it’s important here to note that they start as soldiers first, not farmers), to farm. The soldiers’ pay was docked for having the land, but the farming land was typically more valuable anyway, so it was a good deal. As long as the soldiers agreed that their descendants would continue to farm the land AND serve in the military, all was good. And this descendant stuff is important because it means even the people on the lowest rung of the power structure have some sort of emotional tie to the state—they grow up expecting to be part of it in some small way, and so generally feel a greater sense of allegiance to Gondor™ than, for example, in Rohan where they’re tied to the land that’s owned by, say, Lord Erkenbrand of the Deeping Coomb, who is broadly loyal to the Kings but could at any moment flip, leaving the peasantry functionally disconnected from the King and the Riddermark generally.

The theme system is also important because it means you don’t need to do conscription (which is kinda sucky and unpopular) and you have guarantees on both farmers and soldiers, which is an excellent way to occupy your able-bodied population pretty much round the clock, reducing both the likelihood of rebellions and maximising your population’s general efficiency—sounds to me sort of like what Faramir’s on about in Window on the West! It’s also great because it means you can settle conquered lands quickly and easily.

Above these farmer-soldiers in the power schema was something like a regional governor, who was in charge both civilly and militarily. This looks a lot like your classical Western European feudal lord, and is functionally pretty similar, except in that they don’t own ALL of the lands the peasants work, most of that actually belongs to the central authority and is leased directly to the peasantry. This sort of explains how Faramir can credit the expansion/maintenance of Gondor explicitly to the Stewards (“but the Stewards were wiser…” in TTT) instead of having to acknowledge the underling lords—and assuming he’s not just being a blowhard about it—because that leasing of the land would actually be the prerogative of the Steward (in the name of the King) and not the Lords of the Pinnath Gelin or the Prince of Dol Amroth or whoever.

Then there’s an ENORMOUS bureaucracy and administrative wing to the central state. Genuinely enormous, filled with lots of vanity titles (Warden of the Keys, anyone?) and basically helps to keep the administrative state running, reducing the amount of actual clerical work both the central authority and the outlying lords/governors have to do. This makes the bureaucracy quite powerful, but makes the central authority (King/Steward/whoever) even more powerful because he leads it.

Then there’s the interesting pseudo-democratic element inherited from the Roman Empire, which actually goes some of the way to explaining some of the subtext to my initial question about Faramir’s behaviour at the coronation; there's the remnants of the Senate, which technically elected the emperors of the Byzantine Empire (though had waning influence as the centuries wore on). A senate, obviously, is quite different to whatever the fuck it is that Faramir does, but that sort of popular approval for the king is nonetheless interesting and notable, and we can probably assume Tolks knew something of it when he was writing.

Sorry I wrote... way too much here, I am procrastinating v hard from work lol. Anyways yeah I think this is basically where I'm at vis a vis their relative governmental structures. I'm having a bit of a moment as well because Dante Alighieri has this whole take on the Empire and Catholicism, and I think that's actually probably influencing Tolkien somewhere along the line (and is definitely relevant, if nothing else, for how I think about the governments in LOTR), but I haven't had the brain energy to try to incorporate that yet lol

#lotr #gondor #rohan #meta #i think?#i can never remember what the definition rules are lmao #long post

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orbitluke · 4 years

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Birdie - Robin Buckley

Birdie – R.B

Robin Buckley x Reader

A/N: I haven’t written in so long, so apologies for any grammatical errors. I appreciate any feedback and I hope you enjoy :)

Word Count: 2688

Warnings: Angst?

Summary: Robin has been too scared to let her feelings for the Reader be known and she’s terrified she might have left it too late.

Italics indicate a flashback.

_________

Robin had sprawled out along the couch in the backroom of home video, making herself comfy as she watched you idly from across the room. You were sat with your back to her, legs crossed on the small chair, surrounded by a bunch of sheets. She watched with curiosity, as you shuffle a few documents, eyes drifting along each paper thoroughly to make sure everything you had written made sense. She couldn’t help her lips quirk up as you let out a frustrated sigh before picking up your pencil, taking the opposite end and dragging it roughly across the page, so you could amend your mistake. She noticed how the flimsy table you were stationed at shook slightly due to your movements, bits of rubber flying off the sides. Your lips were pressed in a fine line and brows furrowed in confusion as you read over the last few lines once more. Robin could see your shoulders visibly relaxing as you placed your pencil beside the various sheets of paper in a moment of relief as you finally finished.

It seemed Keith had given you the task to reorganise next month’s work schedule, to which you insisted you definitely weren’t certified to do so, however, he claimed it didn’t matter as long he had something decent by Monday, persisting he would do it but, he had to leave for a ‘family emergency’ and would have no time over the weekend to do so. He left with the promise he’d let you have next Friday off if you stayed behind to get it done. Robin scoffed at this, insisting that this ‘emergency’ probably entailed Keith and the pile of movies she saw him check out earlier. However, since he was technically store manager you couldn’t really dispute the matter.

“I can’t believe Keith is making you do that shit,” Robin spoke, alerting you she was no longer napping after the 12-hour shift she had just done. Typically she wouldn’t be so affected by it, but she had informed you earlier, that last night she and some pretty girl went to a concert somewhere near Illinois, resulting in her getting home at 7 AM, a mere 2 hours before her shift started.

She sat up straight, twisting her body either side trying to get rid of the kinks that had formed in her lower back. She glanced at the clock, realising it was now 9:56 PM and her shift had ended a little over an hour ago. She could’ve easily gone home straight after her shift, but felt bad that Keith had left you to lock up and sort out the schedule, therefore, decided she would keep you company whilst you finished up, however, as soon as her body hit the couch she could feel sleep consuming her.

“Hey birdie, enjoy your nap?” You asked, twisting your body to face her, your arm hanging lazily over the top of the chair.

Robin’s heart soared at the use of the nickname you had given her a while back after the two of you got far too drunk at Tammy Thompson’s house party and ended up pressed against each other in Tammy’s bath, legs dangling over the sides as you drunkenly laughed and reminisced over your friendship together.

“I still can’t believe you punched Joshua McKenna in the nose in 4th grade for saying my Wonder Woman T-shirt sucked.” You laughed, letting out a little snort, as your head lay against Robin’s shoulder.

Robin’s heart was pounding at your close proximity. She could feel every movement you made, the way your shoulders shook as you laughed and she could swear she felt you move closer to her, your left hand coming up from your side and interlocking with hers.

“McKenna was a dick. Still is,” She remarked, “And his taste in superheroes? Whack!” Robin exclaimed, gesturing wildly with her right hand, forgetting that your hands were interlaced, therefore, causing your whole body to move with her, and heat rise to her face in embarrassment.

“Sorry.” She murmured, moving her hand away from yours and into her lap. She glanced at you for a small second, admiring the way your eyes gleamed even in the dull lighting of the bathroom. She noticed you now had the side of your head pressed against the cool tile wall, staring at her with a glazed look in your eyes.

You were both still extremely drunk.

“What for birdie?” You whispered, leaning forward until your foreheads were pressed together. Robin felt like she was about to combust, her heart moments, if not seconds away from exploding. You let a melodious laugh, your eyes flickering between Robin’s eyes and lips.

This had to be the alcohol speaking, Robin thought, too terrified to think what this meant if it wasn’t.

Slowly, Robin leaned in, a breath away from your lips. Her eyes closed, trying to take this all in, however, a moment of clarity made her reconsider.

“Birdie?” Robin questioned, moving back, letting out an awkward laugh and shaking her head slightly at your remark in an attempt to ease whatever tension seemed to have built-up between the two of you. Robin looked back at you and she could swear she saw hurt flash across your face, but as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone.

“Yeah, Birdie!” You laughed lightly, scrunching your face in embarrassment, too afraid to meet her gaze. “Robin is a type bird, therefore, you are my little birdie.” You smiled softly, finally looking up at her.

Before Robin had the chance to even process what had happened, loud banging filled the small room, accompanied by someone asking if the bathroom was vacant.

Almost relieved by the presence of someone else, you yelled back that you’d be just a moment, before clumsily pushing yourself out of the tub and gesturing for her to take your hand so she could also get up.

Robin walked in front of you, letting go of your hand. Your heart faltering at the lack of touch. Robin opened the bathroom door to reveal none other than Joshua McKenna causing the two of you to let out a bright laugh and stumble out of the room, leaving the boy confused, but Robin was somewhat relieved that you were able to leave behind whatever tension had come between the two.

“I’m not even going to be here next month, so I’m literally writing myself out of the schedule.” You groaned, snapping Robin out of her thoughts, as you scoot your chair around to face her. She was finally sitting up straight, hugging her knees to her chest with her head propped between them, hair a little unruly from her nap.

Her heart dropped a little as you brought up the fact you were leaving. Soon to be a freshman in college, meeting new people, whilst she had yet another year of High School left before she had a taste of freedom.

“I gave Keith the late Wednesday shift, so you no longer have to deal with Mrs Jameson.” You mused, remembering how Robin was laid on your bed one weekend, ranting about this older woman who seemed to come in every Wednesday just before closing. She would rent the same movie, but not before gossiping about her sister’s promiscuity and because Robin was far too polite to dismiss her, this caused Robin to lock up long after her shift was supposed to end.

“Perhaps she has a thing for you.” You smirked, wiggling your eyebrows. “I mean Steve said she came in asking for you last week. Seemed that she only wanted to you to ring her up.” You continued, causing Robin to press her face into your pillow and let out a disgusted groan.

“She’s old enough to be my mother.” Robin shrieked, however, you couldn’t help notice the blush that stained her cheeks.

“Never stopped anyone before.” You quipped, moving from your spot on the floor where you were busy folding laundry and flopped down beside Robin. “I mean I’m pretty sure Billy has a thing for Mrs Wheeler.”

“Yeah but that’s Mrs Wheeler,” Robin laughed, lifting her face from your pillow. You looked at her in shock.

“What? She’s hot.” Robin defended, rolling on to her side so she could look at you properly. “Like really hot.”

“Not as hot as me though, right?” You half-joked, a part of you a little jealous at Robin’s revelation regarding Mrs Wheeler’s hotness, but nevertheless quickly changing the conversation by announcing that you needed to shower, so she could happily help herself to your Walkman or your selection of comics that laid on your bedside table. But as soon as you got up from your bed and made your way into your bathroom, Robin whispered to herself, “Defiantly not.” with a smile tainting her lips as she was undoubtedly infatuated by you.

You realised Robin wasn’t paying attention, instead, she seemed to be in a world of her own, whilst picking at her nails, a habit that formed whenever she became nervous.

“Hey birdie, you good?” You questioned, your eyes softening as she met your gaze.

“I’m going to miss you.” Her voice faltering as an overwhelming feeling of sadness consumed her, causing her eyes to become shadowy with unshed tears.

“What do you mean B?” You inquired, placing your hand on her knee as a form of comfort, however, the mere touch of your hand seemed to heat her whole body, awakening something inside of her.

“Fuck.” Robin shifted in her seat, now sitting with her legs crossed, but your hand remained still.

“You’re going away to college and leaving me.” She half smiled, wiping the palm of her hand under her eyes in an attempt to stop any tears from falling. She clasped her other hand around yours loosely, mindlessly playing with your fingertips.

“You still have Steve.” You responded, hoping to lighten the mood. Robin rolled her eyes, trying to feign amusement, but you knew deep down she felt just as deflated as you did.

The idea of leaving Robin was gut-wrenching. Not being able to see her every day was a foreign concept to you. She was an integral part of your life, often coming over late at night, shimming up the tree adjacent from your bedroom window just so you had someone to help lull you to sleep and bring you comfort when things weren’t going well, but now you were going to University a few states away and this would no longer be possible. You would no longer see her face every day as you walked into Home Video with two coffee’s clasp in your hand to help get you both through the early morning shifts. Her sarcastic jokes and quarrels with Steve would now just be a memory.

“What about that about the girl you went to the concert with,” You continued, your words becoming weak with every breath. “Angelia was it? She seems nice.”

Lies. You could feel bile rising in your throat at the thought of Robin with another girl. When she first told you about her, you responded politely, trying not to show your lack of delight for this unknown girl, but when she told you that she was technically the reason for her lack of sleep the night before, you realised this was it. You no longer had a chance and she was obviously into this girl.

Pausing momentarily, Robin then whispered,

“Yeah, but she’s not you.”

Robin hated how desperate she sounded, close to tears just because the girl she loved would longer going to live a few streets over, but instead in a whole new state where she could easily find people to replace her. Selfishly she wished you had chosen a University close by so it was easier for her to see you, but Robin knew how much you longed to leave Hawkins. This small town wasn’t made for people like you, an open mind that needed to thrive with others similar, not constraint to a town so lifeless. Going to New York seemed like a once in a lifetime opportunity, especially after working so hard to be granted a scholarship.

Realistically Robin knew that you going to college didn’t mean the end of your friendship. She could phone you, even commute, but something felt so wrong about letting you leave town without telling you how she truly felt.

“We can still see each other right? I’ll be home during break and you and Steve can get the train there whenever you like. I’m not gonna forget you Birdie, you’re my best friend.”

“That’s it though.” Robin paused, letting out a bitter laugh. “I don’t want to be your friend anymore.”

“I’m only going to University Robin.” You spoke defensively, your mind racing as you moved from your chair to the seat beside Robin on the couch.

It almost felt foreign hearing you call her by her actual name, so used to the way your lips formed her nickname.

“I’m in love you Y/N/N.”

Robin’s heart was pounding as you let out a bellowing laugh. Instantly filling with dread. She swore she could feel her heart shattering. This was it, you were rejecting her and any chance of salvaging a friendship had been destroyed by her declaration of love.

“Robin,” She looked up to meet your gaze. The silence that had consumed the break room was defending. Apart of her wanted to make a break for it, take her bike and ride as far away from Hawkins as she could.

Taking a breath, you tightened your grip around Robin’s hand, pulling her closer until you were only inches away and spoke slowly with utter confidence.

“I love you too. I have done for so long and the idea of not being able to see you every day hurts.” You let out a soft cry. “Fuck B, I thought you really didn’t want to friends for a sec. I don’t want to be without you.”

Breathlessly, you leaned forward so your foreheads were touching, much like when you were both drunk in Tammy Thompson’s bathroom, except there was no sense of reluctance. Robin emitted a small chuckle, her heart leaping at your confession. Finally, Robin gained the courage to lean in and press a kiss against your lips, melting at your touch as you moved in sync with one another, emotion filling you both with warmth. You moved your hands from Robin’s grasp and wrapped your arms around her neck pulling her closer to you. Your chests were now touching as you eagerly tried to keep up with one another, a small moan slipping past her lips as you attempted to make up for the lost time. Her lips fit perfectly against yours, moving in unison until you both pulled apart breathlessly, forehead pressed together with relief and a new sense of giddiness flooding you both.

“I wanted to do that for so long.” You exasperated, moving back slightly so you could take her all in.

“So have I.” Robin replied, lifting her thumb to stroke your cheek gently.

“What about Angelica.” You questioned, suddenly coming to the realisation that there was perhaps someone out there that would make this proclamation of love pointless.

“There’s nothing to say about Angelia,” Robin spoke. “I only agreed to go out with her to make you jealous.”

You gasped at her words in amusement, relief flooding you.

“Can’t say I feel bad for her though. She ended up abandoning me for some red-headed chick. All I could think about was you.” Robin mused, leaning in close so you could feel her smile against your lips.

“Really?” You questioned. Robin nodded, kind of embarrassed by this confession.

You leaned in once more, pressing a rotation of kisses on either of her cheeks and finally closing the gap between your lips.

“I really do love you Birdie. We can make this work”

#Robin Buckley x Reader #Robin Buckley x You #Robin Buckley Imagine #Stranger Things Imagine #Stranger Things Fanfiction #St3 #Stranger Things x reader #steve harrington #Stranger Things #hi please give me feedback #wlw #lesbian #maya hawke #I'm so so sorry for any mistakes #robin buckley fanfiction

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intergalxtic · 4 years

Text

In The Netherworld

A little one-shot/drabble that’s to short to put on AO3!!

Barbara goes into the Netherwold, and meets someone unexpected...

After Juno died, the Netherworld changed. Miss Argentina became in charge, and her first order was to make the afterlife ever so slightly more entertaining. So instead of an empty abyss, it became a not-so-empty abyss with houses and shops and some boring attractions.

She also created the waiting room, and made it possible for ghosts to come in and out of the netherworld, in exchange for community service and odd jobs. However, you can only go to houses, or where you died. If you go anywhere else, you get “sand-wormed” as Beetlejuice likes to say.

Today, Barbara is doing her community service. She likes to do all her hours in one day, so she has more time with everyone throughout the rest of the week. She loves spending time with Lydia, her and Adam often help her with the subjects she doesn’t enjoy as much. And Barbara admits, she cares about Lydia as if she was her own. She also loves to hang out with Delia, finding all her quirks interesting, even if it feels like she could snap at any moment.

Barbara has just left for the Netherworld, ready for the easy stuff she’s been given these past weeks, but is greeted by a grumpy Miss Argentina, talking to herself while shuffling around some paperwork on her clipboard.

“Tina… are you okay?” Barbara questions her strange behaviour. Placing the clipboard under her arm, Miss Argentina rubs the bridge of her nose in frustration.

“Beetlejuice was in here before… he RUINED the reception area, you know how many files are in there?” Miss Argentina sighs, then mumbles something in Spanish.

“Do you need any help with reorganising?” Barbara offers, her hopes for easy work going straight down the drain.

“Yes! I’ve already got one other volunteer, but the more we have, the better.” Miss Argentina cracks a small smile, then leads Barbara behind the desk, into a dimly-lit room.

The room seems small, but then when Barbara looks harder, she can see all the shelves that are supposed to be filled with files. Paper is all over the checkered tiles, and Barbara bites her lip to stop her from laughing. Beetlejuice is definitely the culprit. She glances to the side, to see another ghost. Not at all normal, except this ghost looks a little bit like Lydia. Wait, what?

Barbara does a double-take, really getting a good look at her. She had pale skin and bags underneath her eyes. The black fabric of her shirt hangs off her frail-looking body, her hair platinum blonde with dark roots. Barbara assumes she was sick, and that’s how she’s died.

“Are you done staring at me?” The woman smirks, her voice higher than Barbara expects.

“Yes, Sorry, I- uh… you just look awfully familiar,” Barbara stammers, snapping herself out of the trance she was just in, and holds out her hand. “I’m Barbara Maitland.”

“I’m Emily.” Emily breaks into a grin, and shakes Barbara’s hand. “Deetz.”

“Deetz?’ Barbara’s mouth falls to the floor, and she is frozen to the spot. “Oh my gosh.”

“What?” Emily pulls her hand away, intertwining them together in front of her, exactly like Lydia does. “Do I know you?”

“No…” Barbara squats to the floor and picks up a file. Anna Brown, aged 43. “But…”

“But what?” Emily takes a file off the floor and flicks it open carelessly.

“I don’t know how to say this…” Barbara grimaces, a million circumstances running through her head at once. “Your daughter and Charles kind of... live in our house with us. Lydia can see ghosts.”

“She what?” Emily grins even wider than before, then contorts into confusion. “Did they move house?”

“Yes, we live in Connecticut.” Barbara breathes out a breath she doesn’t know she’s holding, glad the conversation is moving smoother than she initially thought.

“Why did they move? We all loved that house.” Emily pushes a stray hair out of her face, then picks up another file.

“Well… I don’t know one hundred per cent of the details, but I can tell you from when they moved in.” Barbara prepares the story in her mind, taking a pile from the floor. She starts explaining the story, and Emily pays attention to every little moment, as many questions formed in her mind.

“So Charles is getting remarried?” Emily says in a small voice.

“Yeah,” Barbara awkwardly shuffles her feet, and to her surprise, Emily laughs.

“I’m actually happy for him. Delia sounds… lovely.” She says while placing the last of all the names that started with ‘A’ back into the shelf. “And Lydia got married to a demon then killed him, and now he lives with you?”

“Yes. They are very much like siblings,” Barbara rolls her eyes, remembering the chaos she had to clean up that very morning. “Wait, we forgot one.”

“This one?” Emily looks where Barbara is pointing. She picks up the folder and opens it, shocked to see the name. “Barbara? Do you want something interesting?”

“What?” Barbara her head around, leaving her body behind. Shit. She did it again. Rotating the rest of her body back around, she reaches for the file, to read Adam’s name.

Name: Adam Maitland

Age when died: 31

Cause of Death: Falling through floorboards of their house

Turn page for more statistics

Barbara almost doesn’t want to find hers, but there she goes, searching on her hands and knees. Who knew there were so many Barbara’s? As she searches, she realises maybe hers and Adam’s are connected, because they died together. Just when she’s about to stand up, she finds her name underneath.

Name: Barbara Maitland (née Miller)

Age when Died: 31

Cause of Death: Falling through floorboards of their house

Turn page for more statistics

“Do you wanna find yours?” Barbara asks, putting Adams into the shelf.

“No, I already looked over mine when I first came here.” Emily shrugs, crossing her arms, examining Barbara’s confusion.

“Right, you actually went to the Netherworld when you were supposed to,” Barbara whispers loudly, sighing in frustration at the remaining files. “We’re gonna be a while, why don’t we get to know each other?”

“Sure?” Emily giggles a little, and Barbara smiles at the resemblance between her and Lydia. “So. How did you die?”

fin.

Hope you enjoyed!!

#barbara maitland #adam maitland #beetlejuice #lydia deetz'#emily deetz #charles deetz #delia deetz #beetlejuice the musical #netherworld

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hargroves-angel · 5 years

Note

you and billy get in a fight and he asks max for help

I Really Fucking Like You Billy Hargrove

Summary - Billy does something he regrets but lets his temper get the best of him resulting in you and him having an argument, however this just makes Billy even more angry causing Max to help her step brother out.

Warnings - Swearing, Billy being mean, Angst, Fluff

A/N - So sorry that this took so long to get out I’ve got a lot to do this week so uploads are going to be spaced out, I hope that’s ok, I apologise in advance though angels!

The front door slammed shut gaining Max’s attention away from her homework. Billy was obviously home. he’d actually been pretty happy recently especially after having been dating you. He just hadn’t stopped smiling, she thought he was sick! you were having some sort of effect on him and it was quite scary for Max, someone had tamed the beast in her eyes.

Billy hadn’t stopped being annoying but he wasn’t as mean, he even apologised to her for the whole car and her friends incident.

“Fucking bitch” Billy grumbled as he walked past her open door. “Turn down that fucking music!” he yelled at her from his room. She rolled her eyes but none the less turned it down, going to shut her door.

That’s when she got really confused. Were those sobs? from Billys room? Was he crying?

She peaked her head round the gap of his door.

He had his head in his hands. She glanced around at the room seeing how much you really had changed him, everywhere was clean. No dirty washing, no empty beer cans, no cigarette butts in the ash tray. it was so clean.

“What the fuck do you want shithead?” Billy growled.

“What happened?” Billy shook his head and laughed lowly.

“Why do you even care?” He shoved his head back in his hands. Max slowly crept over to sit next to him on the bed.

“Because like you said, we’re family now… we’ve got to look out for each other” she mumbled cringing at her words as she looked around at his transformed room. To be honest you should come round more often, her room could do with a reorganisation.

“yeah well whatever, doesn’t even matter anyway”

“It clearly matters Billy, I’ve never seen you cry-”

“I wasn’t even crying… that much. Basically we went to a party and I got really drunk, I ended up kissing some girl… I thought it was Y/N, I promise I thought it was her- Same hair, same eyes, same everything to me at the time. The worst part is that this girl pulled me in for the kiss first and me thinking it was Y/N - I just kissed back” Max sucked in a breath. “I should’ve known it wasn’t her - and then I started yelling at her… Fuck I feel so bad” Billy shoved his head in his hands.

“Well I think… the best thing is to talk to her”

“Ive already done that Maxine, she doesn’t want to talk about it”

“I don’t think think yelling about your point is the same as talking Billy” Max mumbled.

“Whatever, It’s just she deserves more then just some half assed apology… She’s so important to me Max…”

“How about tomorrow you show up at her house, pick her up and take her to that movie she wanted to watch”

“What movie?” Billy asked genuinely confused.

“she’s been talking about it loads! It’s all she mentions?”

With that Billy shoved his head right back in his hands. “I didn’t even fucking know that- you know what Maxine, fuck you! get the fuck out of my room now”

“Wait what?!” Max furrowed her eyebrows and huffed.

“Just fucking get out!” Billy yelled at her. Max knew better than to stay, she stomped out. Billy was definitely falling hard for Y/N, in a way it amused her, to see him even getting all angry every time a love song played, let’s just say he’s been working out a lot recently, he was hitting the weights every chance he got whilst the radio played some sort of love song, but it was when your song came on did she see Billy really fall apart, he dropped the weight on the floor and stomped into his room, anger and hurt radiating off him.

Thats when she felt bad, he usually didn’t give a shit, every girl he’d been with eventually got mad or fed up of his antics and he would come home, bitch about them and then sleep it off not even caring about it the next day. He was so grumpy now a days so she had to do something. So she made a plan, she was going to get you two back together again. God knows you were both way too stubborn and Billy had locked himself at home for the most part, rock music blaring through the walls, the heavy stench of cigarettes and Mary-Jane coming from his room, but as much as she disliked her older step brother she knew she had to help him.

You were definitely the nicest girl he’d dated.

So that’s what she did. At 7am sharpish she asked Billy to take her to the lake, to “Meet some friends” He said no at first obviously so she did a bit of extra planning and made a deal, Dad won’t know about weed as long as Billy agrees to take her. He agreed eventually.

Little did billy know that he was to meet you at that lake. Max had told you to meet her at the lake because she wanted to talk about ‘girl problems’ shed been having and she didn’t want to say it at home because it was embarrassing.

Billy drove the whole way, cigarette dangling from his lips, sunglasses covering his sleep deprived eyes.

She noticed how he hadn’t been sleeping recently. He’d been up all night crying but she wouldn’t tell him she knew because he sure as hell would have her for it.

she impatiently tapped her foot on the floor of the Camaro, her lip caught between her teeth as she chewed on it nervously. This could go a few ways, either Billy gets hurt or you get hurt or maybe you make up. She hoped that you would make up.

“Would you quit fucking tapping, so fucking annoy-” He paused as he saw you, he pulled into the clearing.

“I have to go! Ummm maybe you should talk to her” Max ran out of the car.

“You little fucking sh-” He stopped as he watched you turn around, your eyes landing on the blue car. He saw your smile slip, your eyebrows furrowing and a frown on your face.

You were wearing his AC/DC shirt. He sighed, opening the door the cigarette being discarded on the floor.

“Hey!, angel… look im really fucking sorry princess”

“Really Billy! Because Dana told me you didn’t care” You huffed.

“Look just let me explain…” He felt his patience wearing thin.

“No Billy! Because every time I let you ‘explain’ you end up yelling at me! telling me it’s my fault and im sorry but I don’t think I can-”

“I DON’T FUCKING YELL” He yelled. A regretful expression on his face as he carded his hands through the ends of his hair. He realised what he’d done, he sighed. “Im working on it baby” his eyes flickered to the floor. “It’s just gonna take time… I promise im working on it”

“How much time Billy!? Because we’ve been together for 3 months now and you still have this temper! You don’t know how to control yourself, sometimes I get scared, and I know you won’t ever hurt me but, its just I hate this constant screaming match between us, I really fucking like you Billy Hargrove”

He sniffed, his nose scrunching as he looked away, thinking. He felt his eyes gloss over with tears again. He hated crying in front of you. He sniffed again, his face getting more scrunched up as he tried to hold back the tears. he felt your arms wrap around his waist. Your head rest against his chest as you held him. He’d cuddled you before, hell you’d hugged so many times but this felt like more.

He felt the tears fall. You looked up at him and cradled his cheek in your hand. He still looked the other way, he hated you to see him like this.

“I really fucking like you” you whispered he stood stiff, not being used to this full out intimate feeling. He started to blink and shift his head to look down at you. he placed his hand on top of your one which was holding his cheek.

“Im sorry…” he mumbled, his eyes were red and puffy. You nodded.

“I know baby, it’s ok. I believe you over Dana, and im sorry for being impatient, you’re right, we are working on it… slowly but surely” You got on your tip toes to kiss him, he leaned down to meet your lips. you kissed passionately for what felt like hours until Max intervened.

“Finally you’ve made up! Now can we stop being so dramatic and get home because I can’t do much with a skateboard in a wooded area” She held up her skateboard, her eyebrows raised at you both.

“Sometimes I really fucking despise you Maxine, but you get the day off for now” Billy grumbled. His arm wrapping around your waist as you kissed his cheek.

“You need a shower Hargrove, you reek of weed” You giggled into his ear.

“Suppose you’re gonna have to take one with me, make sure im getting the smell out and everything” he mumbled.

“Ugh get a room” Max cringed as she shoved herself back into Billys car. Thank god she’d gotten you two back together otherwise she’d have to listen to (in her opinion) Billys god awful music for hours. she rolled her eyes and smirked at him. As much of a dick he was, he was family now.

#billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove #billy hargrove fanfic #billy hargrove fluff #billy hargrove angst

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