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#even when i feel bad for being annoying and putting up all my garbage writings and bad art and edits sjskdnm
proposalanonaita · 1 month
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FINE.
The date is fast approaching (seven and a half weeks left), I've had sufficient quantities of Malbec, and I'm realizing that whoever suggested that writing my vows would be MUCH more harrowing than talking about my feelings to internet nobodies.....had a fair point; I should at least attempt to put it all to words before I write the real drafts.
Ugh.
I should probably start by stating that I'm WELL aware of who I am. Rest assured, I know that I'm stunningly abrasive. And controlling. And petty, conniving, misanthropic, or whatever other adjectives you've been calling me in the tags (yes, I DID read those, and it IS weird of so many of you to be calling for my divorce. I thought you were supposed to be nicer than I am?).
All this to say, I've always been cognizant of being an acquired taste. Partly because I've always BEEN an acquired taste. I tone it down in public, and in most of my personal relationships, but I am, down to my core, a Mean Mother Fucker.
With partners before my fiancé, I had to make myself more palatable to stay together. The men I dated were FAR too nice, and snipping with them at all felt like I was a heavyweight champion facing off against a toddler. So I reigned it in. It worked, but no matter how well things were going on paper, I didn't feel like I was myself with any of them.
I was even less myself with The Shithead. I'm NOT getting into the entirety of that particular tire fire here, you little freaks already know FAR too much about me and I won't have you tagging the gory details of the worst part of my life with #bob the builder/fuzzy wuzzy or whatever you're into.
He was horrible to me, I turned dangerously timid, I'm lucky I had enough Mean left in me to get the fuck out. He's changed enough by now that I considered inviting him to the wedding, it was bad enough back then I'm very glad I didn't. Enough said.
...I'm talking quite a bit up here because I still hate having to say any of the next part. Call me an emotionless villain for that if you want to, I am far too employed and 30 to care very much.
Ugh, ugh, ugh.
So.
The thing is, there are people that KNOW me, and there are people who LIKE me. My parents know me, and I've never doubted they love me, but that's not LIKING me as a person. That's a contractual obligation of birthing me. My friends like me, some even like me when I'm catty, but I need to be careful to hold myself back, at the risk of losing them. At best, people loved "me", not ME.
For decades, this was just the way the world was. It was a fact of life- The sky is blue, I'm secretly unlovable, the Earth goes around the sun.
And then, against all odds, I found my fiancé, who manages to do both.
He sees ALL of me. Every square inch, every fleeting thought, every horrible little quirk of my rotten personality. And THEN, as if that weren't bad enough, he turns around and ENJOYS it all. He's not just tolerant of my least palatable traits, he's delighted. The more I show him, the more he likes.
It's awful. I'd say he stole my heart, but that sounds too pleasant. It's more like my heart is a cockroach he could squish at any moment, and I trust him not to, and I'm just supposed to wake up every morning and do the dishes and go to work as if this doesn't mean we're clearly orbiting Saturn. The sky is PURPLE now. What the fuck.
He could at least do me the favor of being completely, 100% perfect, because then I could blame his total lapse in judgement on that, but NO. He's a BASTARD.
I'm engaged to a big sweaty idiot who annoys me on purpose. He's terrible with his money. He tries to take me on HIKES, and JOGS, and CAMPING TRIPS. His taste in every single art form known to man is GARBAGE, he's constantly leaving his dirty socks on the floor, and he's such a bad driver I'm amazed he still has a license.
I've told him all of that to his face, and I've MEANT it, and he's just called me a bitch and asked me what I want for dinner. He knows that I'm unlovable, agrees that all those parts of me are in here, and then loves me anyway.
He loves me. He LOVES me. He loves ME.
I don't know what I'm meant to do with it all, but there's clearly SOMETHING wrong with his brain, so I guess I'll have to keep him, if only for his sake.
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zeltqz · 7 months
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niyaaaa do u have any tips for people who wanna get into fic writing? 👀
i don’t really get how the whole posting format for fics works on here tbh 😭 and like your info area it’s so cool
YEAH OFC!! btw dm me your username so i can follow and support you <3
tip 1- the posting format isnt that hard to get used to actually its just you create a tumblr text post and then copy and paste your fic onto it, add the tags and stuff then post it. if you want to add banners, headers and stuff to make it look better then go ahead, just add images to the text post
tip 2- the info area is the same as above, just add pictures of your choice etc to the text post, add your information, name, age, fav things etc and then to link posts to your post, highlight where u want the link to go, then copy the link of the post u want linked then press the hyperlink that looks like two chains linked together when you highlight the text if that makes sense? sounds like a lot but its rlly not i promise haha
tip 3- always type your fics on other apps like word or google docs since they have an auto save feature!! i dont reccomend typing your fics on tumblr since one if the app crashes, it doesn't automatically save your work so everything you wrote will get deleted (some versions of tumblr do have autosave, my laptop has it but my phone and iPad doesn't, so i dont rely on it)
tip 4- idk if you want tips on actual fic writing or just how to get your fics onto tumblr but ill help you with that anyway. with me when i write fics i always imagine it out in my head. theres some of my fics where i just went with the flow and wrote wgatever came to mind and those are the fics i hate the most because they dont rlly make sense to me. theyre always so random and it just seems rushed and bad.
i picture my fics like a scene in my head and whatever i want the character to do, think, say or feel i write that shit down asap. i use other online sources to help get more descriptive like the emotion theasurus <- honestly one of my favourite things to use ever, they have so much body language to use for every emotion in the damn book
dialogue is also something i find difficult. i've improved i personally feel like but its still hard for me especially if im writing a new character. i never want to make the character seem OOC so i do lots of research before hand. i normally use the wiki to read up on a characters personality.
for example i'll use ran for this since he's like 99% of my account lmao. in the wiki, he's described as "naturally whimsical toward others which makes him inscrutable" though ran doesnt have many scenes in the manga (which i hate bc i love him sm) its impossible to actually write him down to a tee so i use that naturally whimsical description to make him playful, charismatic, carefree etc, going off what little information i have with him.
getting a characters personality down is what can make or break a dialogue. for me when im reading a fic of a character and their dialogue is so OOC it puts me off and i dont even wanna read. so i apply my same fic icks to myself and think if I don't like seeing this and that in a fic, why would I incorporate those in my fics and have ppl get put off it if they have the same fic icks as me?
hope that makes sense!!
tip 5- dont rush yourself at all. i used to rush a few of my fics and i just ended up hating it so much after and fought bck the urge to delete them so many times but then i'd see people's comments and realise i was being too harsh on myself. i'd keep them up but i'd just hate seeing them get attention.
rushing only makes you hate your work and the quality of your work will decline if you are not in the right headspace.
thats also why i have the don't rush me thing in my rules because not only is it annoying to see people constantly asking for updates, it also makes me mad because i know i'll just put out a piece of garbage if i did rush.
also another tip don't give yourself deadlines!! if you know your writing consistency can be a little sloppy, don't tell your followers that you're going to upload every so and so day. if something happens and you miss the deadline, you'll feel bad and rush something out and most times out of ten, a rushed fic doesn't do well. so take your time and don't rush.
tip 6- dont listen to what other people say or feel obligated to write something you don't wanna. establish your boundaries!! for example, from day one i started this blog i said im accepting requests but i will not write anything to do with non-con, incest or minors. i made sure that was out there so i wouldn't feel uncomforable writing anything i wasn't comfy with.
there are people on this app that may like your writing and request you to write something for them. you are not obligated to write anything for anyone! don't feel like you have to just because they asked nicely.
if you want to accept requests you can im not saying you shouldn't, im saying don't feel like you have to. you always have a choice. its your blog.
tip 7- remember this isn't a job. you're allowed to take breaks, allowed to have a personal life. don't feel like you need to be updating every day. i used to think i was obligated to be uploading consistently at least every week because i was obsesssed with engagement and seeing peoples comments and was scared if i took a break ppl will unfollow. now i honestly don't care. i'm not active as much as i used to because of school and that's fine! if ppl want to leave, let them. don't feel like you're forced to keep being active in order to keep your follower count stable.
tip 8- this app can get really toxic sometimes. luckily enough i've only had one toxic anon in my inbox and i've been on this app for a year. some people have so many, some ppl get harrassed etc. if that happens to you just be prepared since there's no actual way to find out who's behind anons. you can turn off your anon options which means if ppl want to inbox you something then their account will be showing. some people arent comfortable with that and that's fine! i keep mine on because i want people to feel comfortable on my page.
just remember though if you ever feel like this app is getting overwhelming take breaks! for the sake of your mental health take breaks. i know so many writers on here that took breaks and came back healthier and stronger.
i feel like this tip goes for social media in general. as much as i love social media im aware how unhealthy it is. breaks are so important for you. remember that.
i can't think of anymore tips right now but if i have some more i will edit the post and add it on.
if u have anymore questions about the tumblr posting format dm me and ill help you out :))
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macksting · 2 months
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2-12-24 00:33 - Nuances that won't stop annoying me tonight
This is personal opinions and should be taken as potentially garbage. I don't particularly have as a vice that need to always be right about things, much less authoritative. I'm just getting these out in writing because they're bothering me a lot.
The oversexualization of trans women is definitely a thing, we are not sexual just for existing. But as a... non-passing trans woman with moral scrupulosity OCD and a high libido, I don't particularly like being admonished not to... speak really sexily, I guess. It's difficult for me to do so at all, and is not made easier by admonishing me for... for talking about it. I don't... talk a lot about it, especially not here, I figure folks wouldn't necessarily be comfortable with it, so I have this really sparse sideblog devoted to sexy stuff but I just. don't engage with it much because I'm afraid of myself, for no good reasons. ... My dash is full of trans people, women and men and neither and both, sex workers and just plain libertines, who are sexy and allow themselves to be sexy, and I am grateful for that. It's difficult to talk to others about sex for me. I don't think by being openly sexual and horny I am contributing to my own oppression. And I do have transmasc friends who do talk sexy with me, and others who do not, depending in no small part on their interests and our established rapport. Iunno. It just feels bad being admonished for... being horny and wanting to be sexualized a bit. A bit. Respectfully, or a particular kind of disrespectfully with a lotta aftercare. It's hard to come by. uh, so to speak.
Vote, vote, vote, you gotta vote, if you don't vote you're giving up your only power to change things, vote vote vote if you don't vote you're as bad as Hitler, in a race between Mussolini and Hitler I'd be very concerned if you didn't vote for Mussolini, yadda yadda yadda, HOLY SHIT how do you people do it. I get it kinda, the idea that voting for one genocidal piece of work is maybe a little better than voting for the other, but... when you put that pen to paper or however you do it, how do you not feel hesitation? Sickness? How does it not plague you? How do you not feel just a little complicit? I'm not saying don't! I don't actually have an opinion on that. Maybe I should have an opinion on that. But do you just... fill in that arrow or bubble and say "I did a good thing"? or something? That man who still owes me over a thousand dollars that I could really use right now because we are homeless is personally responsible for countless dead Palestinians right now, and I know that Trump would have done the same, perhaps worse, but -- but voting for him makes me feel like I'm condoning it, worse it makes me feel like I am personally a little responsible for him being there to do this. And not just this. The expansion of the pipelines, the -- shit I don't even remember any of the good or bad he's done right now, just the continuing construction of the border wall, just the fuckin' shit he's doing to indigenous peoples all over the world including here in the States. I know, I know, Trump would do it too and prolly worse I don't care because what bothers me is the endorsement, the filling in the little arrow bubble thing that says Yes Daddy Go For It Kill In My Name. It's directly contributing to someone being in that genocidal seat doing genocidal things! It's pulling the lever on the fucking trolley track to hit what I hope is fewer than five people but it never is. It never is. It's five people on either side of the track, and if I don't pull the lever, I am not personally responsible for turning the trolley to kill *those* five people, and it really does take something out of me. It inflicts moral fucking injury on me to ... to say Yeah This One Not The Other One. I'm not doing enough. I don't know how to do enough. I am self-isolating because I may have COVID and be asymptomatic, but I can't really self-isolate because we are in a homeless shelter that consists of little Pallet-branded pods and I am inflicting the same poverty traumas on my kid that I had growing up and they're gonna grow up as fucked up as I am and that may literally kill them. I feel like I am killing my child. I am sending them to school during a fucking pandemic that's killing thousands a day. I just don't know how to do the right thing. I know it involves direct action, but every time I try to do that, my whole brain screams and freezes up because it always goes so wrong, nobody likes me, they see how I fidget and how I speak out against useless gossip (I now know particularly what bothers me is what's called lashon hara), they see me trying to volunteer for tasks like cleaning or bean-counting and call me toxic. I know I must be doing things wrong, I know I must be. But they never agree on what. It's always something different. My presence is disruptive, I can't help anybody, I can't help myself, I can't help my family, I can't I can't talk about sex, I can't talk about how much it hurts to pretend for a moment to support genocide, I can't talk about being so poor that our whole worldly possessions are about to go up for auction including every possession my child owns because it's *venting*, I can't talk about my childhood even when I think I'm telling a funny story because it's *venting*, I can't do anything without causing someone some injury and I don't know what to do about it. Um. Maybe ignore everything I just wrote. I just needed to get it off my chest. Please forgive me for putting this out there. I need to, but you don't need to care. There's an artist in the Philippines I'm rather fond of, maybe go check out his work.
Location: Pallet shelter in the PNW, using mobile hotspot and laptop (Breq)
Music: Blues Run The Game, cover by Simon & Garfunkle
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mangoisms · 6 months
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WAITTT, I just saw ur reply to my previous comment. I didn't like Tim too (lmao). The debates between Tim and Damian fans can (and do) get so annoying that I just started disliking his character (not the greatest). Reading Red Robin on a whim was when I started to warm up to his character, he was just some weird dude. The sentiment about him being a chew toy...so real, and perfectly captures how I feel about him. He is so cringe-fail to me.
To touch upon Red Robin relationships...I wish I could peek into the writers' brains and conduct experiments to begin to understand what they were trying to accomplish...Tam, then Lynx II? Rekindling moments with Steph, and I always forget the last girl's name... I just never understood why they thought giving him so many love interests was necessary for the plot (he is quite literally spiraling, absolute rock bottom, can not go any lower, and yet forced so many women into his life; were they expecting me not to feel bad for them?). On top of that whole mess, the last few issues were like a fever dream, I can not properly summarize them for the life of me if asked.
On a side note, Circle K has also inspired me to pick back up my reading on Steph. I started in the summer, and the summer session (I completely forgot I signed up for classes?) completely ruined that for me...
Very random but, what are your thoughts on WFA? Everyone on Twitter is fairly convinced it's absolute garbage. I never read it myself, but I see complaints about characterization all the time. It also seems to be a lot of people's introduction to Batman-associated characters and content, so I can understand why people are upset if it truly is inconsistent with canon writing.
Young Justice anon (as always, hope you're doing fine and that school is manageable and well!!)
it’s so interesting that red robin 2009 is what softened you up to him because that run still remains a sour point for me HAHA like he is compelling but he is sooo annoying </3 getting into his origins in a lonely place of dying and then robin 1993 was what slowly got me, though he still actively annoyed me for a lot of it… it’s Weird i know i like him in a silly weird way where he annoys me but. yeah. he is my chew toy ❤️‍🩹
oh absolutely it makes NO sense that he had so many love interests and. Ok rant incoming let me also put this under the cut because this got LONG
the thing that bothers me is that none of it was EVER addressed. for sure it was a questionable decision on the writers’ part but none of them had the thought to maybe address the fact that he was flip-flopping so badly? i consider tam to be the strongest out of all of them (as in the one with the most chances to have been with him) and even tim acknowledges that at some points and YET. he kept having those weird moments with lynx. like obviously he and tam weren’t necessarily in a relationship but There Was Something There and of course while tam remains ‘loyal’ to him, tim just gets to mess around with other people… and then when he needs something he relies on tam’s affection to help him out… and then of course the way their falling out was set up was sooooo obvious and i don’t think certain plot decisions are necessarily Bad when they’re obvious but they were clearly gunning for the usual ‘superhero withholds important information from the civilian love interest and they break up’ and i just feel like There were so many OTHER things they could’ve had a falling out over 😭😭😭😭 like Come on…
okay that got longer than i wanted sorry for the impromptu rant 😭😭😭😭 i just. argh. most of my grievances with it is the treatment of the female characters LOL but it’s honestly par the course for tim, he has a long string of love interests and those relationships have been. interesting. quality aside my favorites are probably tam and ariana, if only because they had So Much Potential. anyway!!!!
STEPHANIE MY BELOVED <3333 once you find the time (and i hope you do so you can rest! good luck with your classes <3) i would HIGHLY recommend batgirl vol 3, it’s her batgirl run and it makes up for all the shit that went on in war games (which i didn’t actually read, well i did read some of it, mostly steph’s parts, which i wouldn’t recommend because it is… heartwrenching) and it’s just SOOOOO good i have SOOO many thoughts on it. one of my favorite runs i’ve ever read!!!
umm i’m kind of in the middle on wfa. i read it when it initially came out and it was pretty neat! i liked the art for one. but i’ve stopped keeping up since then. as an elseworlds comic with no bearing on current canon, it can be fun! and it has some things i would like in canon (like them keeping babs as oracle, when current canon refuses to do so), but thats hmmm probably it? and honestly it’s not totally my taste, if only because characterization can be a bit iffy (there was one moment with jason early on that kind of turned me off a bit because. i’m sorry. He would not say that. but in fairness to wfa we have a lot of that going on around now in current comics! wrt him, dick, tim, etc) and well. i like drama HAHA. i have also seen that it is the ‘easy way’ to get into the bats and yeah, there’s nothing wrong exactly with that being someone’s introduction, but it should be kept in mind that it’s not canon and things aren’t like that at all in current canon at all! but yeah not everyone does that and it does admittedly get kind of annoying 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫
it is kind of funny in that initially wfa wasn’t a true representation of the ‘batfam’ (at the time it was coming out. i think anyway) and more of an ideal glossy one that, well, ignores a lot to get it to that point. but now we seem to be having that go on in current comics, at least with their attempts to try and absolve bruce of his abuse (which i think they are doing in a dumb way that does absolve him of responsibility and agency and thus makes it. well. redundant. because he isn’t owning up to it and it ignores years of him doing it) so it is kind of. equally bad. except that wfa is elseworlds so it honesty can get away with it but uhhh. current comics don’t have an excuse and that’s. well. Hngh. kind of creates double the bad effect but ANYWHO!!!!!!
SO. YEAH. those are my thoughts. many thoughts. so sorry about that i just got carried away 😭 anyway!! good luck with your classes!!! thank you sm i am doing better too ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹 i hope you’re doing well, take care of yourself!!!!
(also i am gonna go ahead and make a tag for you ^_^ under yj anon … if u have any emoji preferences lmk i was trying to think of something yj-relevant but not sure…)
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in this hideous undertaking (rewatching supernatural) ive realized a couple things about it (that i wasn't already like, extremely and consciously aware of) and im gonna put them under a cut because i know this is annoying
all of this show's depth was surgically implanted by dedicated fans because all of the scenes that i remember being gut-punches in my youth are now completely incomprehensible garbage because half of the dialogue is in manly references with no actual emotional meaning, and even scenes that were literally meant to be characters talking about their feelings are actually jibberish because they don't follow through on the ideas that would in a better show be the core of the conflict .
there's no development; frequently sam and dean will be on opposite sides of some kind of moral dilemma and then not resolve that dilemma because for whatever reason family is more important than murder and then in the span of like 2 episodes they'll inexplicably be on the opposite side of the same argument and this continues for the entire show
this also ties into the lack of depth ; frequently they'll bring up things like autonomy and how there will be monsters that are actually super cool and chill and not super murder machines and then they just don't examine this further in, say, an overarching story because that might present issues for the show's premise. less noticeable but still present during the first five seasons when the show had a planned ending that was unrelated to whether or not monsters that weren't angels were actually alright people, actually
there are a LOT of compelling side characters that, had they been allowed to live past the episode they were introduced in, they couldve Continued to be compelling plot threads in a show that was, like , written competently. like a LOT of them, with explicit innate connections to sam and dean or the prominent side character of the season
i will offer kripke ONE compliment: dean didnt start thinking that murdered teen girls were hot until season 6 , which persists after his name's taken out of the producing credits. so thanks eric, he could've been worse
i'm on like season 8 now and i honestly cant even tell if this is queerbaiting or just, like, the show not wanting to write women SO bad . im leaning towards just, an unwillingness to write women, honestly, because any one of these interactions couldve happened between boy x and A Woman and they just didnt do that SO consistently that it cant just be for the shippers, like it physically Cant be
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heffrondriving · 3 years
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i can’t believe it’s been a full-ass year since my villain origin story-
#caveat: don't open the tags it's a literal wall of self-indulgent text#i distinctly remember making this blog in a fit of manic 6 a.m. energy#bc i just recently rediscovered btr and wanted to scream too much about it#but every time i posted abt them on main i instantly lose 50 followers lmao#they were such a bad guilty pleasure for me at first;; i have to laugh at myself#like now i'm just yeah hi fuck it i love big time rush with zero shame and regrets#like the ultimate big time rusher fuckboi that i am#if that's what it takes to broadcast that fact#but in all seriousness though#i can't believe how much i've gone through with this blog#i didn't even expect anyone to notice it in all its delirious glory i was literally just vibing#but i've met the nicest community and ppl through it and i'm still continuing to just have fun with talking about btr#and posting whatever the hell-all even when no one gives a shit about it#even when i feel bad for being annoying and putting up all my garbage writings and bad art and edits sjskdnm#but it's helped. it really has. and i'm thankful.#despite my skeezy weirdo antisocial idiocy and aydeehaytchdee making me unable to interact properly#having this little slice of the fandom still makes me stupidly happy <3#okay that's all no one read this please#i didn't even intentionally find this fact out hahah#i was just trawling thru my archives to look for a post and that popped up so#hopefully this gets to be active for more teehee (ノ*ФωФ)ノ#or maybe i'll stop fuckin around and delete to spare everyone from having to put up with my dumb talking jkjk#stop disturbing the peace and shut up now allen ;)#do pretty girl don't speak#might delete#also might post smth later in boring celebration bc i'm sad and don't have a life to speak of like that @x@
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drabbles-mc · 3 years
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Wait I just read the head canon of the “spider in the shower” scenario and they were AMAZING. So spot on😭. I am here to put in a request for this but for the Mayans and if you want to/have time for the rest of the SOA boys. I just loved it soooo much 🥺 you write so well for these characters!!!
Ask and you shall receive! For those wondering, Here is the original Spider in the Shower HC for the SOA boys.
HC for the Mayans Men under the cut! These are a little different set-up-wise since as far as we know the Mayans clubhouse doesn't have dorms. So these all take place in houses or apartments or whatever you picture these boys living in
Bishop:
- he heard you scream and came running from the other end of the house, banging on the bathroom door, “Sweetheart, you alright? Open up!” The two-second delay between him saying that and you unlocking the door felt like an eternity to him. He never heard you scream like that before
- when he walked in he expected to see blood everywhere, or something completely shattered and broken. But nothing seemed out of place. The only thing that seemed off was you, sitting up on the sink counter dripping water while staring at the bathtub.
- “What’s going on?” he looks around the bathroom but can’t for the life of him figure out what’s wrong. He grabs a towel and drapes it around your shoulders as he follows your line of sight.
- “Why the fuck is there a spider in our shower?” you look up at him.
- he wasn’t used to you asking questions so aggressively. He made a mental note that spiders were a tense topic for you. He could only shrug in response before saying, “I didn’t send out invites, you know. Don’t look at me like that,” you could see that he was trying not to smile and failing miserably.
- “Will you kill it, please?” your tone switched from annoyed to pleading. He chuckled as he peered behind the shower curtain, “You sure you don’t want me to just catch him and put him outside?” You raised your eyebrows, “And give him the chance to come back? No fucking way.”
- he didn’t say anything else as he took his boot off and smack it against the wall, effectively putting the spider out of commission. You stayed on the sink out of the way as he grabbed a tissue and cleaned up the mess, throwing the spider in the trash
- he scooped you up off the sink counter and walked you back to your shared bedroom, hiding his laughter by pressing his lips against your bare shoulder. He set you down on the bed and threw you one of his old t-shirts to put on. The two of you looked at each other in silence for a few moments before you finally spoke up, “Don’t you dare tell anyone about this.” He laughed as he collapsed on the bed next to you, “I won’t...for now.”
Angel:
- he thought that he was in for a sexy time in the shower with you. He was eagerly slipping out of his jeans and tank top as he watched you hop into the shower, disappearing behind the curtain.
- he peeled off his socks and was getting ready to hop in the shower behind you when the sound of your scream filled the tiny space at his house. He didn't even have time to try and register what was going on as you leapt out of the shower, water still running, and slamming into him. You sent both of you crashing into the sink counter
- “Fuck, Y/N, what’s the matter with you?” he was rubbing his hip where it had just gotten jammed into the corner of the counter
- “There’s a spider in there!” He looked at you, not completely surprised, “So you gotta bodyslam me? C’mon, querida, it can’t be that scary. It’s way smaller than you.” You narrowed your eyes at him, “Then you go kill it!”
- he scoffs, reaching and shutting the water off before peeling the curtain back, “Maybe I will.” He does his signature, cocky little head shake that drives you nuts when it’s directed at you.
- he holds his hand out behind him, “Gimme a tissue.” You set one in his hand, eagerly watching over his shoulder as he catches and crushes the spider inside the tissue. He turns back to you, a proud smirk on his face, “See? All taken care of.” He tosses it in the toilet and flushes it away.
- Once it’s gone for good, he reaches and turns the shower back on. His expression changes completely when he turns back around to you and sees you pulling your rode on. “Where you goin’, querida?” he looks so genuinely confused.
- you shake your head, “I’m not getting back in that fucking shower tonight. Have fun.” You don’t give him the chance to try and change your mind and you can hear him groaning behind you as he shuts the shower back off again, admitting defeat.
Coco:
- swings the door open with an amount of force that you’d never seen, baseball bat in his hand, “Who the fuck is in here?!” he looks frantically around the bathroom, trying to locate whoever it was that made you scream like that.
- it took a second before he noticed that you were standing to the side of him, tucking yourself neatly into the corner of your bathroom. He saw the way your hair was still dripping and quickly looked you over to make sure that you were physically okay.
- “What happened?” his hand was still gripping the baseball bat tightly. You pointed to the shower, “There’s a spider in the shower...”
- he couldn't pretend that he wasn’t confused, “Alright. And?” You scoffed, “What do you mean and?” He shrugged, “I mean and what the fuck made you scream like that? It bite you or somethin’?” You sighed, “No! It didn’t bite me. I just...I don’t want a spider in the shower with me, Coco! You gotta kill it!”
- his grip on the bat finally loosened up a bit. He shook his head, “You had me thinkin’ there was a murderer in here or some shit. You can’t kill it yourself?” You flashed him your best puppy-dog eyes, “C’mon, Coco, please?” He tilted his head slightly, “Whatchu gonna do if this happens when I’m not here?”
- you sighed. You should’ve known that it wasn’t going to be an easy thing with him. The man put holes in people’s heads on a semi-regular basis for the club without question, but asking him to squash a bug was going to spark a philosophical discussion.
- “I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it. Please, Coco, I don’t wanna do it.” It was evident in his eyes that he was contemplating leaving you to deal with the problem on your own. But he was soft for you and couldn't follow through on it. With a sigh, he climbed into the tub and stomped the spider with no hesitation before washing it down the drain.
- he kissed your forehead, “Next time you gotta do it. Survival of the fittest, Ma.” You rolled your eyes, “My knight in shining armor.” He turned around and flashed you the cocky smile that made you weak in the knees every time, “Damn right.”
EZ:
- the sound of your yell filled the entirety of the small trailer. He jumped up off the bed and made his way to the small pocket of space that passed for his bathroom and was instantly bombarded by you running into him. The front of his shirt instantly became soaked, absorbing all the water from your body.
- “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” he gripped you gently but firmly by the outsides of your arms. You shook your head, “This trailer is not big enough for the three of us, Ezekiel.” His eyebrows furrowed, “Three of us?” You nodded, “Yea. You, me, and your hairy eight-legged friend in there,” you gestured towards the bathroom.
- that was when he realized what happened. He smiled down at you before he thought better of it and you pushed his chest, “It’s not funny!” He nodded, forcing a serious expression as he held his hands up in surrender, “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
- “Want me to take care of it?” the smirk was already reappearing on his face. You huff, “No, I want the three of us to learn how to live in harmony together.”
- “I know you’re being sarcastic,” he chuckled as he shuffled past you to get to the bathroom, “But that would make for a good story.”
- you were shaking your head as you grabbed one of his shirts to wear, sitting down on the bed as you watched him try to maneuver around in the small space to kill the spider.
- “Sorry, buddy,” EZ spoke to the creature as he got ready to squash it with a tissue, “but she said that we can’t be friends.” You rolled your eyes, “You’re not about to make me feel bad about this, EZ.”
- he reemerged from the bathroom, tossing the tissue into the garbage can, “Sounds like a guilty conscience, to me.” You grabbed a pillow and threw it at him, “You’re the worst.” He laughed as he peeled off his now-soaked shirt, “Is that any way to thank the guy who just saved you?”
- you pressed your lips into a thin line, staying silent for a moment before grabbing the other pillow and throwing it at him, “Thank you.”
Creeper:
- 100% comes running into the bathroom with his shotgun in his hand after he hears you scream
- has never heard you express that kind of fear before and definitely think that someone was hiding in the shower and had a knife to your throat or something
- when he sees you perched up on the closed toilet lid he is confused to say the least. Your hair is dripping and you hadn’t even bothered to grab a towel when you jumped out of the shower
- still not completely sure what’s going on, he refuses to completely set down his gun, instead letting it dangle by his side as he looks you over, “Hey, Mama, what’s going on in here?”
- not getting up from your perch, you point to the shower, “You gotta kill it, Neron.”
- “Kill what?” he rips the curtain back but doesn’t see anything at first
- you point aggressively towards the corner of the shower where all the body wash and shampoo bottles are stacked, “The spider!”
- “The spider?” he fights back a laugh as he rests the shotgun across his shoulders, arms dangling over it, “You screaming like that over a spider?”
- “Will you kill it already?!”
- he hands you a towel to wrap around your shoulder, chuckling as he sets his gun down outside the bathroom door. You try to tell him that he might still need the gun and he laughs before stepping into the tub to locate and kill the spider.
- very nicely, he asks you to get off the toilet so he can flush it away down the toilet. You jump up, standing at the very edge of the doorway as you watch him flush it away. He shuts the toilet lid and turns back to you, an amused smile on his face
- “Didn’t know you were afraid of spiders, baby,” he walks over and hugs you, kissing the soaking wet hair on top of your head, “I’ll keep a closer eye out for them.”
- “You better,” you grumble as you lean into his chest, “Or I’m gonna start using the shotgun.”
Hank:
- does not want to burst into the bathroom while you’re in there, feeling like he’s invading your privacy despite the fact that you screamed for him hardly a moment before
- gently knocked on the door and you responded with what he could only describe as a bark as you told him to get in the bathroom now
- once he was halfway inside the door, you pulled him completely in by his hand. He was trying not to stare at you but it was difficult to pry his eyes away from you, not used to seeing you standing around so exposed, and drenched from your shower
- “You gotta kill it, Hank.”
- he raised his eyebrows, “Kill it? Kill what?” You nod towards the shower, “There’s a spider in the shower!”
- all the tension that he was previously holding in his shoulders disappeared. He remembered at one point you’d mentioned that you hated spiders, but he didn't think that you really hated them that much. He knew how much you loved your long, hot showers.
- “I thought you were hurt, Y/N,” he was trying to sound bothered but you could see the smile fighting its way onto his face.
- “Um,” you scoff, “I could’ve been hurt. That thing is the size of a small dog.”
- he chuckled and shook his head, “Alright, alright,” he gently ushered you through the doorway, “Go get changed and I’ll take care of it for you,” he watched you walk towards the bedroom, “Better call the dog warden just in case!”
Taza:
- he heard you calling for him and had no idea what to expect. You weren’t the type to yell across the house for things that you needed.
- when he got to the bathroom, you were standing outside the doorway, towel lazily wrapped around you as you stood and waited for him. With every passing second he became more confused.
- once you told him that there was a spider in the shower and you couldn't go back in the bathroom until it was dead, a smile took over his face and he couldn't help but to laugh
- Che “Catch & Release” Romero
- you were upset that he was going to give the spider a chance to come back and try again to ambush you in the shower, but you knew it was an argument that you weren’t going to win with him.
- within a minute he had it trapped in a cup, covering the opening with his hand as he walked it back through the house to release it.
- he came back to find you sitting cross-legged on the bed, still wrapped in your towel. He tried to sit next to you but you pulled away from him, scooting farther down the bed.
- “What is it, mi amor? Hm?” there was a small, knowing smile on his face as he asked you the question. You huffed, “I don’t want you to touch me with your spider hands!”
- he laughed, “I only touched it with this hand,” he held up his right hand before reaching to caress your face with his left, “So this hand is still safe for you.”
Gilly:
- is under the impression that you are being dramatic about something when you call him into the bathroom for an emergency
- he walks in all cocky, expecting you to have some weird, little favor to ask of him
- he wasn’t thinking that he was going to open the door and nearly cause you to fall over in the process. He catches you, but barely, your dripping skin sliding in his grip.
- “Fuck, what happened in here?” he saw the water all over the floor where you jumped out of the shower
- “You have a spider in your shower!” you pointed frantically. He shook his head, as if he should’ve known that it would be something like that, “So? Shoot it with the showerhead.”
- you give him an offended look, “You shoot it with the showerhead! I don’t want to be anywhere near that thing.” He laughed and pulled the curtain to the side and looked around for the creature in question.
- gets halfway through some smartass remark before seeing the spider and jumping back himself, “Fuck!” 
- your fear would be momentarily outweighed by the satisfaction of seeing Gilly eat his words. You cross your arms over your bare chest, “Just shoot it with the showerhead, baby.”
- you can’t hear too clearly what he’s saying as he grumbles, sliding the boot off of his foot before slamming it down on the floor of the shower, crushing the bug in the process. He would deny it if anyone asked him about it after the fact, but you definitely heard him let out a sigh of relief once he lifted up the boot and saw that the spider was dead
Riz:
- is full of worry as he rushes to the bathroom
- he walks in and sees you standing, leaning back against the sink counter, water dripping off your body onto the floor. His initial instinct is to try and take care of you, grabbing a towel and trying to wrap it around your shoulders.
- “You gotta kill the spider, Riz,” you were completely ignoring the soft gestures he was trying to give you.
- “Wh-what?” he was thoroughly confused, still trying to drape the towel around your shoulders. You grabbed the towel from him, breaking his singular concentration, “There’s a spider in your shower, Riz. You gotta kill it.”
- “Is that what made you scream?” he gently wiped some of the water off of your cheek, “It’ll probably leave you alone if you wanna finish your shower, hermosa.” You turn and look at him, dumbfounded, “Do you...do you shower when you know there’s a spider in there with you?” He shrugged, “We just don’t bother each other.”
- you couldn't believe what you were hearing, “How long have you known there’s a spider in there?” He could sense that he was in hot water already but he couldn't force himself to lie to you, “I mean, I don’t know if it’s always the same spider but--” You couldn't listen to any more of what he was about to say, “Kill it, Michael. Please.”
- he grabbed a second towel and threw it down on the floor to soak up some of the water that you’d dragged out of the shower with you, “Okay, okay. Whatever you want, querida. Go dry off, I’ll take care of the spider.”
- as much as you wanted to be as far away from the spider as possible, you stayed, “I wanna make sure you actually get rid of it.” He chuckled, shaking his head slightly as he reached and shut the shower off. He saw it crawling up onto the lip of the tub and with one smooth motion he crushed it underneath the toe of his boot.
- “All better?” he turned back to you. You tapped your finger against his chest, “No more letting bugs be guests in our shower. I’ll leave. I’ll move out.”
Bonus- Nestor (because i love him):
- he swung the door open and was met with the sight of you standing on top of the closed toilet lid. Instantly he felt like whatever the situation was, was above his paygrade. The shower was still running and water was all over the floor.
- he held his hands out to help you down, “Get down from there. You’re gonna fall and crack your skull.”
- “Better than letting that thing in there kill me!” it was dramatic, but you didn't care. His brows furrowed in confusion, “What thing? Where?” You pointed to the shower, “There’s a spider in the shower, Nes!”
- the expression on his face let you know that he felt that it was far too early in the morning to be dealing with this level of nonsense. He ran his hands down his face before holding them out to you again, “Please get down off the toilet, Y/N.” You shook your head, “Not until you kill the spider.”
- with a deep sigh, he turned the water off in the shower and pulled the curtain to the side. He scanned the tub for a minute before finally finding the threat. He wouldn't admit it to you, but he understood why it freaked you out--it was a big fucking spider.
- not thinking better of it, he picked your slide up off the floor and slammed it down onto the spider, crushing it on the bottom of your shoe. You whined, “Why’d you have to use my shoe?” He turned back to you, his expression painfully neutral, “The spider is dead, isn’t it?” he held his hands out yet again, “Now please get down from there.”
- you placed your hands in his and let him help you down, instantly wrapping your legs around his waist so that he was forced to hold you. It got a laugh out of the both of you as he caught you, holding you up with ease.
- “You owe me new slides, you know,” you chuckled as he carried you to the bedroom. He laughed, “Only if you promise not to climb on the toilet anymore.”
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poppywrites41 · 3 years
Text
Captive Love Ch 3
Prince! Yoongi x Maid! Reader
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Here is the 3rd chapter of Captive Love. Wow. I’m rlly getting more writing in than I thought.
Warnings: Suggestive themes, swearing, actual sex, mentions of violence, mentions of r*pe
If anyone is uncomfortable with these themes, GET OUT. Also, MINORS GET OUT. This story is purely fiction. The members of BTS would never do this.
Please let me know what y’all think!
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Y/N stood frozen where she was, too terrified to even breathe in fear that the person notices her presence. She watches in fear as the youngest prince, Jungkook, loses his shit after one of the new girls that arrived at the castle with Y/N spilled the water in her bucket on his expensive looking shores. The poor girl began to cry and spoke to the prince, “P-please your highness! I am n-new to my job and I am s-still learning ho- Please forgive my clumsiness!”
Jungkook laughed at her attempts to apologize and beg for forgiveness, “I don’t care if your fucking new to your job! Pieces of trash like you should have it carved in your dumb little heads to move out of OUR way. We cannot be tainted by garbage like you.”
The girl made herself small and began to cry more. The prince only chuckled at the girl’s response. “Aw sweetheart,” he said in a sweet tone of voice, patting her head while her body was trembling in fear, “I get that you’re new here and people make mistakes all the time. If it were any of my brothers instead of me, they might’ve let you off the hook just this once. However, you chose to mess with me instead. Not a very smart choice my dear.” The girl looked up at him with a questioning look. All of a sudden, the prince pushed her to the ground and placed his wet shoe in front of her face with a devious smirk.
“Now I might be willing to let this little mishap slide…” he began looking down at the girl who looked up at him with hopeful eyes.
Y/N hoped he would not make her do anything indecent. She really does not want to intrude, but he has no right to treat a girl who is new to all this so rudely.
The prince held his foot up in front of the girl’s mouth, “Like everything off my shoe and I will consider forgetting this ever happened.”
The girl, as well as Y/N, stared into the prince’s eyes, looking for any sign that this was a joke. When no sign of this being a joke, she chocked back a sob and opened her mouth to clean the shoe only to have her body pulled back into a warm embrace, shocking both her and the prince.
Y/N was so pissed that the prince acted like that, but she does not remember how she got into the position of holding the girl back from cleaning the prince’s shoe, but she kept a serious poker face as she looked into the eyes of the youngest prince.
“What is the meaning of this?!” Jungkook growls as Y/N puts the girl behind her back, shielding her from the prince’s glare.
“She does not need to clean your shoe! She did nothing wrong in this situation.” Y/N said.
The prince scoffed at her, “She did do something wrong! She spilled water on my shoes!”
“And it was an accident!” Y/N said, her voice raising a little, “She’s new to this job! This is only her first day working here and she already apologized to you. Isn’t that enough for you?”
“No, it’s not!” the prince said in a raised voice, “Her stupidity has tainted me! She needs to take it all back!”
“You are such a selfish, self-absorbed, fucking asshole!! Would it fucking kill you to be kind to other people?!” Y/N was so frustrated with the prince, that she didn’t even realized she had yelled at him. It did not hit her what she had done until he forcefully grabbed her chin and angled her neck to look up at his furious expression.
“Oh sweetheart…” he chuckled darkly, “Not only did you interfere with something you shouldn’t have, but you also insulted royalty AND yelled at me.”
Now it was Y/N’s turn to tremble in fear, her big e/c eyes looking into his dark brown ones. “I-I sincerely apologize, your highness. I let my anger get the best of me.”
He took a strand of her hair in his other hand and twirled it around his fingers, “That you did, little dove. That you did.” Y/N gulped not even wanting to think about what he will do to her. “But you know, little dove…” he said almost as if he was in deep thought, still playing with her hair, “I have never been spoken to like that, especially by woman. It was exciting. You have some spunk in you.”
Y/N was not sure what the prince was saying. When was her punishment going to come? Will she die right where she stands? She was immediately taken out of her thoughts when she felt a hot breath on her ear. Her whole body shivering. The prince gave a deep chuckle.
“Now,” he said in almost a whisper, holding her neck as he spoke into her ear, “What you did today will never happen again. But I’m not gonna lie, that turned me on.” Y/N froze in his hold, holding her breath. “How about this, little dove” he continued, “You let me fuck you, and I will forget everything that happened today. How does that sound?”
Before she could say anything, she was slammed against the wall, her breath knocked out of her. Y/N looked around for the young girl but could not see her. She managed to escape, good.
“Please don’t do this your highness!” she said in a whimper, “I did not agree to this!”
“Too bad” he said as he ran his over her dress, slowly going to the back and undoing the dress, “You don’t really get a choice against me.”
The prince placed his face into her neck, ignoring her cries as he gave her kisses along her neck and her collarbone as the top of her dress became loose, revealing the top of her breasts. He then shoved her legs apart and settled his knee in between her thighs. Even though the dress was being a barrier between her cunt and his knee, he could still feel the heat coming from the girl. He began to move his knee around, causing her to whimper more.
Y/N could not believe what was happening. She tried pushing the prince off of her, but he was so strong he wouldn’t budge. She didn’t want this, she wanted to scream and cry out for help, but she knew a much worse fate would be waiting for her if she got away from him. The only thing she could do was give up.
“What the hell are you doing, Jungkook?!” a deep raspy voice echoes through the hall.
Jungkook froze, eyes widening in some sort of fear. He stepped back from Y/N, allowing her to sink to the floor, trying her best to cover up her breasts with her loose dress. She kept her head down, not wanting to cause anymore embarrassment to herself.
The youngest turned towards the owner of the voice, “Yoongi! Stop interrupting me! I was just punishing this girl for disrespecting me.”
Y/N froze at the name of the second oldest prince.
“Jungkook,” the older prince sighed, “She’s fucking new here. Give her a break.”
“But she had the fucking audacity to call me a ‘a selfish, self-absorbed, fucking asshole’!! All because I was having another servant clean my shoe with her mouth because she spilled her cleaning water on them! I was going to punish both, but the other girl escaped.”
Yoongi looked at Y/N curled in on herself and walked towards her, Jungkook backing up, giving his brother space. The older prince crouched in front of her.
“Look at me.” He ordered.
Y/N was too scared to look at him and trying to cover her breasts. She just kept her head down. This really annoyed Yoongi, he’s never had someone not listen to what he ordered, ever.
“See?” the youngest sighed, “She did the same thing to me.”
Yoongi growled, “Listen to me slut...” he grabbed her hair roughly with his hand, causing her the gasp in pain and violently yanked her head up, “When one of tells you to look at us, you fucking lo-” he cuts himself off when he saw her face with tears in her eyes. Yoongi was not expecting her to be the one who pissed Jungkook off. He completely forgot what he was saying, he is grip in her hair loosening. He just stared at her and she stared back in confusion. “Yoongi?” Jungkook nudged his brother, snapping him out of his trance. “Next time we ask for your attention,” he says in a less threatening voice, “it would be wise for you to give it to us. It will help you in the long run.” He lets her hair go and awkwardly stands up, wiping his hands on his shirt.
“Jungkook,” he said turning to his brother, “Do you remember what the girl who spilled water on your shoes looked like?”
The prince nodded. Yoongi put his hand on Jungkook’s shoulder, “Why don’t you go deal with her while I deal with this one?” Jungkook smiled at his brother’s proposal, “Oh that would be great! I have so much in store for that whore!”
“No!” Y/N’s voice echoes, causing two pairs of eyes to fall on her. She gets onto her knees, trying her best to shield her top from the two males. “Please your majesties,” she pleads, looking them both in the eyes, “leave her out of this. I disrespected Prince Jungkook ten times worse than she did. I deserve her punishment and mine. I will take whatever is given to me. I promise I will keep her from making any more mistakes. Just please do not hurt her.”
“You mean that you will take any punishment I give?” Jungkook asks with an excited look on his face. Y/N shivers at his excitement, “Y-yes your majesty.”
Jungkook claps his hand, “Alrighty then! Everything is settled. Let’s-”
“I’ll give her the punishment.” Yoongi interrupts, causing both of their heads to turn to him.
“What?! Yoongiiii!” Jungkook whines, “I want to do it.”
“You have had enough trauma for one day. You are tense Guk.” Yoongi reasons, “Tae is going hunting in 20 minutes. Why don’t you go let off some steam with him?”
“But-”
“Don’t worry,” Yoongi said, patting the prince’s back, “Everything will be taken care of. I bet Sarah misses you too. She knows how to make you feel better.”
Jungkook thought about it for a minute. Then he turned to Yoongi, “Okay. I guess you’re right. I’ll go out with Tae. But I want to hear about her punishment when I get back!” He waved to his brother as he jogged down the hall to meet with his brother.
Y/N let out a breath once the youngest left, only to have it sucked back in when Prince Yoongi stepped in front of her.
“Stand up.”
This time, Y/N obeyed. She stood up on shaky legs, facing the prince.
“Turn around.”
Y/N’s choked back a sob and looked into his eyes, silently pleading with him to not continue where Jungkook left off. He raised his eyebrows as if to remind he of what he said earlier about listening to orders. Y/N’s head dropped as she turned around, presenting her back to him. She could feel his presence get closer to her and she began to shake. When his hands landed on her shoulders, she accidentally let out a sob. Yoongi’s hands stopped where they were. Y/N was terrified that he was going to rip her tongue out or something. Then all of a sudden, she felt the top of her dress being put back in place. Yoongi was tying her dress back up. When he finished, he stepped back. Y/N turned around and bowed her head to him, “T-Thank you, your highness.”
“You won’t survive long here if you don’t surrender yourself to us.” Yoongi said, crossing his arms in annoyance.
Y/N bows her hand in shame, “I’m sorry. But maybe if you all are nicer to your staff-”
“Just because I spared you from Jungkook’s wrath, does not mean I am your friend. You don’t get to say whatever you want to me just because I redressed you.” He stepped towards her, took her chin in his hand and lifted her head to meet his eyes, "Please remember that I am much worse than him sweetheart. I am still a prince. I am still a man with ravenous desires."
Y/N looks into his eyes, “Thank you for saving me, my prince. What will you tell the prince when he asks you what you did to me?”
Yoongi sighed as he pondered what to tell Jungkook, “What you like for me to tell him, little one?”
“I-I don’t know! What d-do you usually do for p-punishments?”
The prince smirked, “For men, I usually castrate them or cut a few limbs off. Very rarely do I kill. For women…” he noticed the girl shiver, “I humiliate them in the worst ways possible. I will fuck them in public, in front of their parents. I will sometime have them tied up to where I can tease them for days. It’s worse for the servants who are virgins because I will take away the one thing they want to keep for their ‘future soulmates’. I don’t care if I have to take it from them forcefully.”
Y/N’s legs almost give out, but the prince wrapped an arm around her waist, keeping her up, “So, little one. Would you like to pick what I tell him, or do you want me to pick?”
“C-Can you t-tell him that you h-had me whipped?” she whispered, not wanting to continue this conversation.
Yoongi thought about it for a minute, “I think I can make a good story about that. I could tell him how delightful your screams were.”
The girl shivered in the princes’ hold. She looked up into his eyes once more, “T-Thank you again, your majesty.”
Yoongi chuckles as he pulls at her bottom lip with his thumb, “I suggest you go back to you work, little one. It’s too dangerous to stay around me. Unless you want me to ruin you…”
The girl’s eyes widened in fear. She quickly collected herself, awkwardly bowed to the prince, and hurried down the hall.
“Work on your greetings! Next time I will not hesitate to punish you for real if you address us rudely. I do not plan on holding back.” he called after her.
When the girl was no longer in his line of sight, he turned and kicked the now empty water bucket in frustration. “You fucking idiot!” He cursed to himself, “You should have just taken her where she stood.”
He was so pissed at himself. Who was that person he became when he was with her?! He never saves servant girls from his brothers and certainly NEVER lets them go without punishment. Sure, he has had his eye on her, but now he’s beginning to despise her.
As he was walking back to his chambers, he bumped into Jimin.
“Hey Yoongi!” He said happily, “What’s with the grumpy face?”
“Where the fuck is Grace?!” Yoongi growls.
“She’s by the pond. I think her a Joon were out there a little bit ago, but I think he’s done with her. Don’t make her too tired though! I plan on having her come to my room later tonight.” Jimin laughs. His brother’s grumpiness has no effect on him.
Yoongi mutters a thanks to Jimin and storms off to the pond. Just like Jimin said, the red-haired woman was laying on the grass nude and catching her breath. She sees Yoongi approaching and smiles at him. She rolls over and gets on her hands and knees for him, knowing that’s his favorite position. Yoongi took his cock out of his pants and knelt down behind her, jerking it a couple of times. He gathered some of the mixture of her and Namjoon’s cum that was dripping out of her into his hand and rubbed his cock with it. He then roughly grabbed Grace and thrust himself inside her sopping pussy. The woman moaned beneath him as he aggressively slammed his cock into her over and over again. He needed to get that servant girl out of his head, but all he could think about was her being in Grace’s place, moaning while she took his cock like a good girl. Thinking about Y/N made him rut his hips into Grace faster, getting him closer to his climax. Grace was desperately trying to get herself to come, sensing that Yoongi was close, rubbing her clit furiously while the prince pounded into her. Noticing that Grace was struggling Yoongi flipped her, put her legs on her shoulder and resumed his relentless pounding. The new position helped him hit Grace’s special spot, spurring her into her orgasm. Yoongi quickly followed, gulping down breaths of air, sweat running down his face and his hair sticking to his forehead.
When he pulled out, a mixture of his, Namjoon and Grace’s cum seeped out of her cunt. This got Yoongi thinking. Grace is one of the many girls that Yoongi and his brother’s use for sex. They always share the girls. If he wants to have that girl be “promoted” to that position, would he be willing to share her with his brothers? Of course, he and his brothers are comfortable with doing literally anything together. They would have threesomes or more with some of the girls. Something about that turned them on. But this girl made Yoongi feel different. If his brothers took a liking to her, would he let them use her?
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love-and-monsters · 3 years
Text
Fake Dating pt. 2
M Faerie X F human reader, 6,405 words
This is a part two to this story. Elwain and his human are safely in the human world, dealing with things far more mundane than an assassination attempt. Both of them are adjusting to the new life and to each other. Very fluffy, with some caretaking. I was in a very romantic mood while writing this and I think you can tell.
Content notes: mentions of parents trying to kill their child, descriptions of minor illness.
“This is the dumbest thing I’ve ever seen. Why do humans like this?”
You repressed a snicker. “You’re watching it.”
Elwain didn’t even look away from the screen to reply. “You put it on.”
“I just turned on the TV. You’re the one who started watching.” Elwain made a noncommittal noise. You pressed your lips together, trying not to smile. “I can change the channel, if you want. There’s a documentary on that I wanted to-”
“No, this is fine,” Elwain said. He hopped onto the couch next to you and curled up. “Ugh. These people know that expensive doesn’t mean good, right?”
You covered your mouth with a hand. Elwain actually, legitimately enjoying trashy reality shows was by far the best thing you’d learned about his personality since you’d started living together. The worst thing was probably that he’d grown up with servants and had no comprehension of household chores. It had taken a few weeks to get him to put his food back in the refrigerator when he was done with it, and you weren’t sure he was ever going to get the hang of doing dishes. Still. He was getting better.
“You’re still going to need to vacuum later tonight,” you reminded him. Elwain groaned.
“I spent all day at work!” he said. “I should get a day off.”
“You only had a five hour shift today. I worked seven. Plus, I have school. You don’t get breaks on household chores. Doesn’t matter how much you worked, they still have to be done.” Elwain looked away sulkily. That was an expression you were getting uncomfortably familiar with. “And you’re not allowed to do magic for it, either.”
“What? Just because you can’t use magic, there is no reason for me to be forbidden!” Elwain said.
“Yeah, sure. You remember what happened last time you used magic to clean the apartment?” Bright pink spots appeared on Elwain’s cheeks. He glared down at the couch, expression screwed up in irritation.
“I fixed that.”
“Uh, yeah. Sure. You fixed the apartment. What you’re never going to fix is my trauma from walking into my apartment and finding everything covered in spiders!”
“I apologized!”
“Look, the next time you decide to enchant a bunch of bugs into doing household chores, just. Don’t.”
Elwain huffed. “They weren’t even venomous to humans! All of you are so easily frightened. They weren’t going to hurt you.”
“I think the heart attack I had upon entering my own apartment could be considered as hurting me,” you muttered. Elwain looked sour, but didn’t respond, apparently returning to his TV show. Elwain’s adjustment to the human world had been… difficult. He had no real understanding of conventional social norms and obviously still expected everyone to treat him like a noble, despite working a minimum wage job at a fast-food restaurant. Not to mention that he seemed to have very loose morals when it came to enchanting mortals. As far as you were aware, he’d never done it to you, but he didn’t seem to have any sort of restraint when it came to anyone else. Before he’d gotten his job in customer service, he’d made all of his money by charming random people off the street into handing over their wallets.
Admittedly, his skills had come in handy. You didn’t feel particularly good about it, but he had charmed the landlord into giving you the apartment for significantly less than the going rate. In your defense, there hadn’t been many options. You couldn’t stay in your parent’s house with a Fae hanging around, and even with both of you working, there was no way to afford an apartment otherwise.
It did not help that Elwain apparently found your moral crisis very funny.
“You all live by such dumb rules all the time. If you really wanted, I could probably charm someone into giving us their house, or just letting us stay there.”
“That feels morally dubious,” you said.
“Ugh. You won’t let me steal anything, you won’t let me charm people into letting us use their things without stealing them, you won’t even let me charm people into handing some things over!” Elwain flopped across the couch. “So now we’re living in a garbage apartment and I have to work at a greasy food place where customers yell all the time and-”
“It’s a nice apartment, especially considering what we’re paying for it,” you interrupted. “And if you use magic too often, people might start figuring out that something weird is going on.”
“I doubt it. Mortals are stupid.” But Elwain didn’t protest, and went to his job as usual, and didn’t steal, which was more respect for your rules than you were worried he’d show. And, really, you were glad you’d instated the ‘no magic’ rule at large, given how unpredictable the results could be.
Elwain sprawled across the couch. He had a tendency to take up ridiculous amounts of space, pushing you to the edges of the couch to avoid contact. Eventually, you got up.
“Where are you going?” Elwain asked as you walked out of the room.
“I’m going to study for a bit before bed,” you called back. “Enjoy your show.”
He stared after you until your door clicked shut. Weird. He’d seemed almost annoyed about you leaving, even though it meant he could watch his shows for longer and you would stop bugging him about vacuuming. Whatever. He’d been acting weird recently, though. Maybe you should talk to him about it. He’d seemed fine for the first month or so after leaving his home and his parents trying to kill him, but maybe he was having some sort of delayed reaction.
You buried yourself in your textbooks for the next few hours, trying to get a solid start on one of your papers. The back of your mind seemed to be focused on the little noises in the apartment, though. Every sound of footsteps or things being moved pulled your attention back to the rest of the house. Eventually, you heard the sound of the vacuum running for a while before Elwain headed into his room.
He never went back into the main area of your apartment and, buried in work, you were soon thoroughly distracted. Gradually, as you worked, your mind grew less and less focused until you were face down in your books, dead asleep.
“Wake up!”
You bolted upright. There was a piece of paper sticking to your cheek from a stream of drool. You hurriedly pulled it off. “What? What’s going on?” You blinked, focusing on Elwain’s fine face in front of you. “What are you doing in my room?”
“Your alarm was going off. I can’t believe you didn’t hear it. It woke me up.” Sure enough, your phone, which was still sitting across the room from you, on its charger, was ringing furiously. You weren’t surprised that you hadn’t noticed it, though. Your head felt like someone had stuffed it with cotton.
“Oh. Sorry.” You rose a little unsteadily and turned the alarm off. “Thanks for waking me. Probably would have slept right through it if you hadn’t.”
“Uh huh,” Elwain said. “Did someone curse you?”
You blinked at him. He seemed dead serious. “Uh, no. I doubt it. Unless you know something I don’t.”
“If you’re asking about my parents, I would assume they are no longer concerned about me,” Elwain said. His voice was clipped, like it always was when he talked about his parents. “I don’t think they would bother to curse a mortal. If they had the means to lay a curse on someone, it would be far easier and more effective to just curse me.” He paused. “I was only asking because you look terrible.”
“Thanks,” you mumbled.
“You do. Why didn’t you sleep in your actual bed last night?” he asked.
“Because I fell asleep at my desk by accident. Are you going to stand here and just insult me or-” You broke off into a round of thick, hacking coughs. Elwain took a step back, alarm crossing his face.
“What is happening to you?” He lifted his arms in front of him, like he was trying to ward off some kind of evil spirit.
“It’s a cough,” you said. “Have you never seen a cough before?”
Elwain lowered his arms, still looking at me like he thought you would start convulsing at any moment. “Fae don’t do that.”
“They don’t cough?” You rubbed at your chest. A significant amount of phlegm had settled there. God, your body really had to pick the worst time to get sick.
“Not like that,” he said. “What’s the matter with you?”
“I’m sick,” you told him.
He nodded slowly. “I’ve heard of that. A mortal thing. Your forms are weak, so you occasionally fall ill. It is a sign of your small, failing lifespans.”
You considered correcting him, but decided that you had better ways to spend your morning than trying to explain germ theory to a Faerie. “Yeah. Sure. Well. I’m sick. So that’s why I’m coughing. It’s just a cold. I’ll be fine.”
Elwain narrowed his eyes. “Hmph. Well. I have work. Don’t die while I’m out.”
“I’m not in any danger of dying,” you told him. “Go head to work. Have fun.”
“That’s unlikely,” he muttered, but he left your room without protest. You closed your door after him and set about getting ready for your day.
The cold had settled into your head and chest and you could tell it was going to be bad already, even before it had come on fully. God. You could not afford to get sick.
Elwain was eating breakfast when you shuffled into the kitchen. You’d needed to absolutely cake your face in makeup to look presentable, and you saw his brows rise as he looked at you. Fortunately, the Fae at least knew how to keep their mouths shut. He just looked back at the frozen waffles he was toasting.
You snagged a granola bar and headed for the door. “Have a good day at work!” you called over your shoulder. Elwain grunted in response. The door swung shut behind you.
Work was exhausting, as per usual. It was better than Elwain’s job by a long shot, since you were working in a local candy store run by a sweet older couple, but between keeping an eye on any batches of candy being produced, sorting out customers, and having to deal with the requisite child-throwing-a-fit-for-not-getting-sweets, it was tiring. Trying to look bright and perky while being weighted down with a cold was awful.
As soon as work was off, you had class. Dragging yourself through it was a slow, painful slog. By the end, your head was fuzzy and you felt dead on your feet. Slowly, you hauled yourself on the bus and fell asleep.
Naturally, you missed your stop.
About an hour after you were supposed to be home, you dragged yourself in through the door. Elwain practically slammed into you. His hands clapped on either side of his face and he peered intently at you. “Where have you been? I’ve been calling you! I thought you were dead!”
You pushed him off you and bent to one side to cough heavily until you were nearly sagging to the floor. Elwain stared at you. “Sorry,” you rasped when you’d stopped. “I fell asleep. And then my phone was on low battery and I wanted to make sure I had enough battery to use my GPS to get home.”
“You couldn’t have texted me?” Elwain drew himself up, hands on his hips. The entire situation reminded you, ridiculously, of your mom when you came home after a night out. “I was worried! I didn’t know where you were, and mortals are so ridiculously fragile-”
“Aw, you’d have been fine,” you said. “If anything, you’d be able to do more without my stupid mortal morals.”
Elwain’s expression went strange for a moment. “Are you feeling well? You seem… off.”
“I’m not feeling well. I’d like to lie down, actually.” You coughed again. “That okay with you?” Elwain was still frowning, but he stepped aside, allowing you down the hall and into your room.
You went down into your bed face-first. Almost as soon as you hit the pillows, your mind faded into sleep. Sleep came to you in fitful waves. You kept waking, coughing, rolling over and falling asleep again. When your alarm pulled you back to full consciousness, you felt thoroughly awful. The cold had settled firmly into your chest and head, gumming everything up. Your chest rasped every time you breathed in, prompting heavy coughing fits, you shivered even when you were wrapped in blankets, and your head felt full, achy, and cloudy.
The cold had apparently decided to upgrade to a full-blown illness. Slowly, you shoved yourself upright. It was hard to breathe through your nose and your mouth. Your throat stung with every inhale. Every cell of your body just wanted to pop some of the cold medicine that made you sleep and hopefully you’d wake up when it was all over.
Just as you were standing up, someone knocked on your door.
Well, you knew who. There was only one person who it could be. Grimacing, you walked over to the door and pulled it open. “Elwain. What?”
He stared at you. “I was- are you okay?”
“I’m sick. You remember the discussion was had yesterday?” you said. “Anyway. You needed something?”
Elwain looked you over. You hadn’t looking into a mirror, but given his expression, you probably looked terrible. He seemed to think you were five seconds from crumbling into a pile of ash, like a vampire exposed to sunlight. “Do I need to call 911?” he asked.
“Uh, no. It’s a cold. I don’t need an ambulance. I need to sleep for a while. Why are you knocking on my door?” you asked. Elwain’s mouth moved wordlessly. Whatever he had wanted to talk to you about, it seemed to have been completely derailed.
“I… er.” Elwain’s gaze flicked over you again. “Well. I wanted to see how you were doing. You went to bed right after you got home last night and I never saw you again. And you seem to be doing… poorly.”
“Yeah. I’m not doing great. I really just want to go back to bed.” You rubbed your hand over your head. “I feel like shit.”
Elwain hesitated. “Do you need me to do something?”
“Just go about your day. I’ll try to keep my gross self out of your way.” You slouched across your room to your bed. “If you don’t need anything else, I’m going to try to get a little more sleep.”
Elwain lingered in the doorway for a few moments longer. Finally, he turned and headed into the kitchen. The door remained open behind him, and you couldn’t be bothered to get up and close it again. Instead, you buried your head in your pillow. Sleep claimed you again within moments.
Less than an hour later, your alarm went off again. You slapped at it balefully until it shut off. Somehow, it felt like you gotten negative sleep, like sleeping had made you even more tired. Slowly, painfully, you pushed yourself upright. Shivers wracked your frame. How had sleep made everything worse?
You threw on the first clothes that you could get your hands on and shuffled into the kitchen. Elwain looked up from his breakfast. His mouth opened slightly. “Good lord. Maybe you have been cursed.”
“Thanks,” you mumbled. “I don’t look that bad.” You did, but you’d slathered enough makeup on your face to cover most of it. Then again, maybe that wasn’t enough to hide from Fae eyes.
“You look like a walking corpse,” Elwain said. You collapsed in the seat next to him and coughed into your fist. The force of the motion made your head throb. Elwain curled his lips back from his teeth in a grimace. “Are you certain you don’t need me to call 911?”
“No. It’s a cold. I’m-” You dissolved into a fit of coughing so severe it was difficult to catch your breath. Elwain stared at you, eyes wide. “I’m fine,” you croaked.
Elwain narrowed his eyes, but returned to his phone. You didn’t know where he’d gotten it from, because he certainly hadn’t purchased it, but you’d decided you weren’t going to ask. You ate slowly, mostly because your stomach felt tender, and you couldn’t finish even half of your normal portion. After a while of picking at your food, you dumped your dishes in the sink and started gathering your items to head out.
“Where are you going?” You startled. Elwain had appeared at your shoulder, completely silent. You might have chalked up not noticing him to your cold-dulled senses, but he could sneak up on you no matter how well you were feeling.
“Work,” you said.
Elwain looked back down at his phone. “You are not supposed to leave the house if you’re sick.”
“It’s a cold. I’ll be fine,” you said.
Elwain kept looking at his phone. “If you are sick, you are supposed to stay home, both so you can avoid infecting others and so you can recover.”
“Are you reading that off a website? Where are you reading that from?” You tried to grab his phone, but he gracefully slipped out of your reach.
“I searched about human illnesses on the internet,” he said. “Your symptoms are consistent with the common cold, but they are also consistent with pneumonia. It says you should sleep and drink water until you are recovered.”
“Look,” you said. “I’m fine. It’s a cold. I’ve had them before. I will have them after this one. I know how to handle them. I’ll pop some cold medicine and I’ll be fine.” Elwain stared at you. His expression was hard to read. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll live.” You sniffed and blotted at your face with a tissue. “I’m going to leave now. I’ll see you later.”
You swept out the door, giving Elwain a wave. He stared after you, not moving until you slammed the door shut.
It was a long, slow, awful day. You could barely keep your head together. By the time you got home, your limbs were heavy with exhaustion and your mind was swimming.
You dragged yourself through the door. Your body felt like you were wrapped in a massive, thick blanket. Everything was warm and it was hard to move, like everything was stiff.
Elwain stared at you as you pulled yourself into the kitchen. “You look like death warmed over.”
“Fine,” you mumbled. “’m fine.” You slouched over the counter and leaned against it. Elwain stood, stepping closer to you. “I’m good. I… I’m good. Just… Tired. Tired. Need to nap.”
“Perhaps you should nap in your room,” Elwain said. “Not on the counter.”
“I’m fine here.” Your words were getting mushy. Why weren’t your lips moving correctly? “I’m good. I just, um. Need. Something…”
“It’s okay. You’re okay. Here, hold onto me. I’ll-” Elwian’s hands were on your waist, on your back. You felt boneless, mushy. Your limbs weren’t moving the way you wanted them to. The only thing you could feel were Elwain’s hands supporting you. Was he carrying you? Maybe. You felt like you were floating. Your head was disconnected from your body, floating. Someone was speaking to you from far away, a soothing voice. It was so soothing. Maybe you could just sleep for a bit. Just sleep. It would be nice to just sleep.
Dimly, you came back to yourself. You blinked your eyes open. The ceiling was unfamiliar, at least as ceilings went. Not that you were familiar with many ceilings, really. Looking down at yourself revealed why the ceiling was so unfamiliar. The bed was covered in heavy, dark blue sheets. Elwain’s sheets. You were in his bed.
Slowly, you pushed yourself upright. You still felt bad, but less bad than you had been feeling. A raking cough escaped your chest, thick with phlegm.
“You’re up!” Elwain appeared in the doorway. He looked… frazzled? You weren’t sure the Fae could look as frazzled and unkempt as a human could, but he didn’t look as ethereally beautiful as he usually did. He looked sort of ruffled. “I was considering dragging you to the hospital, but the internet said that maybe ginger tea would actually be better, so I got you some of that.” He indicated the cup in his hands.
“You have got to stop getting all your information from the internet. Or at least I need to give you a media literacy course on identifying good sources,” you croaked. Your voice sounded bad, but it no longer hurt to speak. It just felt uncomfortable.
Elwain gave you a bewildered look and held the cup out toward you. “Drink it.” You took it obligingly and took a sip. Elwain must have dumped half a bottle of honey in it, because it was so sweet you almost couldn’t taste the ginger. You swallowed it carefully.
“Thank you,” you said when you’d finished the cup. “What, uh. What exactly happened to me?”
Elwain sat on the end of your bed. He was wearing his old cloak, the one he’d taken with him when he’d fled from Faerie. He tucked it tighter around him, fingers fidgeting at the hem. “I was hoping you could inform me of that, actually. I was quite frightened when you collapsed like that.”
“Oh, yeah,” you said. Vaguely, you remembered passing out. “How long was I out?”
Elwain glanced at the clock. “Mn. Less than an hour? You were in and out for the first ten minutes, mumbling a lot.” You had vague memories of Elwain leaning over you, expression panicked. Must have been from then. “Once I got you into bed, you fell asleep. I wasn’t sure if I should wake you or not.”
“It is,” you said. “Probably a good idea to let me sleep. Though if I ever do collapse again, please call 911.” You considered. “Well, I guess don’t call 911 unless I’m actually dying. I can’t afford the ambulance.”
Elwain nodded, even though he looked politely confused. “Is your illness getting worse?”
“Maybe,” you said. “It’s hard to tell. I think I have a fever now, so that sucks.”
With absolutely no warning, Elwain leaned forward. His face was abruptly so close to yours, close enough to feel his cool breath tickling your skin. The hairs on the back of your neck lifted. Suddenly the only thoughts in your head had to do with his lips pressing to yours, his cool mouth meandering along your skin-
His forehead touched yours. His eyes closed, a little furrow appearing in his brow. “You’re warm,” he said. “Very warm.” He sat back.
You blinked. “Uh. You can do that with your hand, you know.”
“Oh? I saw the forehead one on the internet,” Elwain said, but he reached up and cradled your face in his hands. With a soft, delicate touch, the back of his hand brushed against your forehead and down your cheek. The touch made something in your chest tighten and your breath catch. “You still feel warm.”
You moved your mouth, trying to get your brain back in gear. “Uh, yeah. Fever! That’s, uh. Bad. I need, um. You remember that pill bottle in the bathroom I showed you? The one with the little red pills?” Elwain nodded. “Get those and a glass of water. They’ll bring the fever down.”
Elwain vanished for a moment and returned with a tall glass water and the bottle of pills. He watched as you downed them and sank back into bed. His sheets were softer than yours, his bed even more luxuriously plush. You weren’t sure where he’d gotten the sheets from, or if maybe they were the sheets you’d bought him, just augmented with magic. “Why did you put me in your bed, anyway?” you asked. “My bed’s not that much further away.”
“I wanted to keep an eye on you,” Elwain said. “And you do not like me coming in your room.”
“I don’t like you just walking into my room whenever you feel like it, but you can come into my room,” you said. But you were pretty glad he’d put you in his bed. Everything in his room smelled faintly floral and herbal, a smell that relaxed you. Everything was cozy.
“I am not familiar with how to deal with sick mortals,” Elwain said. “Do you need anything else?”
“No. I just need to rest.” You paused, looking toward the window. “I should probably head back to my own room, actually. You’ll probably want to sleep here tonight, right?”
Elwain shook his head. “Stay. You need to rest. I will sleep elsewhere.” He swept out of the room, cloak fluttering behind him. You stared after him for a moment before sinking back into bed. Despite just waking up, your head was already muddy again. Maybe Elwain had gotten you the pills with the sleeping medicine in them. Your eyes closed. Within moments, you were drifting away, fast asleep.
You dreamed of strange things, of hands on your face, cupping your cheek, of soft lips pressed to your neck, of kind eyes and strong arms carrying you around. When you opened your eyes to see the same kind eyes staring down at you, you were half-convinced you were still dreaming.
“Hello,” Elwain said. “You have been asleep for a while.”
You blinked. Your body did have that foggy heaviness that came when you’d been sleeping deeply. Even your discomfort from the illness seemed far away and dim. “Elwain.”
“Yes. I’m right here.” He said it more gently than a simple statement of fact, almost like a reassurance.
“How long was I out?” There was bright sunlight streaming in through the window and across the bed. You lifted a hand to clumsily shield your eyes.
“Over twelve hours. I thought you should probably sleep. That’s what the internet said.”
“Oh, man, we are going to need to get you some better resources than just ‘the internet,’” you said. “But you were right. Thanks for letting me sleep.” Slowly, you shoved yourself up into a sitting position. “What’s that?”
Elwain held a bowl out to you. “I was told that soup was good for mortal illnesses.”
You took the bowl of vegetable broth. Elwain’s cooking was usually pretty hit or miss- he could follow recipes just fine, but he also had a habit of deciding that he had a better idea than the recipe and going completely off the rails. The soup just seemed to be broth, though. You took a cautious sip. It was watery, but tolerable.
“Are you feeling better?” Elwain asked. You nodded, glancing over at the clock.
“It’s past nine,” you noticed. “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”
“I called in sick. I wanted to stay home to make sure you were all right.” Elwain looked completely serious.
“It’s just a cold. I’m fine.”
Elwain’s eyes narrowed. “You collapsed.”
“Well, yeah, but…” You trailed off. There wasn’t much you could say in response to that. “Fine. But if you get fired for this, I’m going to be pissed.”
“I will not be fired. My boss loves me.” Elwain gave a superior little sniff, nose stuck up in the air. You laughed into your bowl of broth.
When you were finished, Elwain took your bowl back into the kitchen, returning only a few moments later. “Do you need anything else?”
“I think I’m okay,” you said. “You really didn’t have to stay home to take care of me. There’s not going to be a lot to do. I think I’m mostly going to sleep.”
“Regardless. I think it is better to be safe.” Elwain looked at you from the doorway for a moment longer. “I need you.”
He left the doorway. You could hear his footsteps retreating into your apartment, perfectly steady, like what he said hadn’t made your chest tighten intensely. You sank back into his bed. His scent wreathed around you, gentle and reassuring. Oh, god. Warm feelings were fluttering up in your stomach, swelling through chest and trembling in your lungs. Worse than that, they felt familiar. How long had these feelings been lingering in the background of your mind? And now they had surfaced and you didn’t know what to do with them. Naturally, you would have some kind of emotional crisis when you were sick.
You faded in and out of dreams where Elwain’s scent wreathed around you and his gentle hands stroked your forehead and cheeks. You woke up feeling oddly melancholy.
The sounds of the TV drifted through the open door. Shaking some feeling back into your heavy limbs, you hauled a blanket over your shoulders and headed into the living room.
Elwain was draped over the couch, staring at the TV. There was some soap opera on with a woman and a man hysterically throwing themselves at each other. Elwain looked up as you padded into the room. “Is it okay for you to be out of bed?” he asked.
“Yeah. I feel better, actually.” The sleep had helped quite a bit. You still felt foggy, but the pain in your head and chest had faded. Elwain sat up, drawing his limbs in closer to himself so you could sit next to him.
“You look less… corpse-like,” he said. Before you realized what he was doing, he took hold of your face in both hands and pulled you closer to him. “You are still warm.”
“Uh, yeah. I’m getting better.” You reached up and carefully pried his fingers off your face. You were overly aware of how your fingers lingered together. “How’s your day off going?”
“Human TV is still strange,” Elwain said, turning back toward the screen. “I can’t imagine any humans really behave like this. I have never seen it.”
“No, it’s a soap opera. It’s supposed to be deliberately over-the-top and crazy. That’s why they’re fun to watch.” Elwain rolled his eyes, but there was amusement in his expression.
“Is there anything you want to watch?” he asked.
“No, this is fine.” You settled into the soft cushions, staring at the TV. As much as you were looking in the direction of the TV, most of your attention was focused on Elwain. His gaze kept flicking toward you, as if he was unable to focus on the show either. After a moment, he reached out toward you.
One of his hands settled on your head, the other on your shoulder. Before you realized what had happened, he pushed you so your head was resting in his lap. You stared up at him as he, apparently unconcerned, started weaving his fingers through your hair.
“What are you doing?” you asked.
“You did this for me when I first came here,” Elwain said. “It was soothing. I thought you might like it as well.” He paused. “Was I incorrect?”
You considered for a moment. His fingers were still carding through your hair, twining strands around his fingers. “No. I don’t mind.”
Elwain continued to stroke your hair. His nails scratched lightly at your scalp. The feeling of being touched made something tremulous swell in your chest. It was a pleasant feeling, but one so sharp and overwhelming that it almost made you cry.
You lay with Elwain for a while, his hands absently playing with your hair and trailing along your head and neck. He seemed to be paying far more attention to you than to the TV. “You should take better care of yourself,” he said, stroking your bangs back from your forehead. “If you were to die, I would be alone in the mortal world.”
“You’d manage,” you said.
“Perhaps.” Elwain removed his hands from your hair and hesitated for a moment. He seemed to be struggling to speak. Then he sighed. “But I would prefer it if you were with me.”
You looked up at him. He was staring deliberately to one side. There was a faint pinkish color to his cheeks and his eyes were narrowed. “You could have left, once our deal was up. I only asked you to stay with me for the night. And yet, you helped me. There was no reason to. I no longer have my connections or any particular Faerie skills. Even the few powers that remain with me, you don’t like me using. You have gained nothing from this deal and you help me regardless.”
“Of course, I did.” Thinking about that night only brought one image to your mind. Elwain, who had nearly been killed by his own parents, looking lost and confused and abandoned. He had been cocky before, but in that moment, he had just looked forlorn and upset. He had just looked scared. “I wasn’t going to just leave you on your own.”
“You could have,” Elwain pressed on. “Easily, you could have. You could have justified it, even by mortal morals. There’s not a lot here that could kill me. As you have pointed out, I would be fairly fine on my own. But you stayed with me regardless, for no other reason than just helping me.”
“You’d just almost been assassinated. I couldn’t leave you,” you said.
“You could have. But you didn’t. And, at least so far, you have asked for nothing from me in return. To be quite honest, you’ve been almost annoying with how little you allow me to do.”
“I try,” you said. Elwain snorted. It was an inelegant noise, but somehow also incredibly attractive. “Where are you going with this?”
“I’m trying to explain to you that I care about you. I want you to be well and safe and healthy because you saved me and you didn’t have to and I appreciate it.” Elwain’s cheeks flamed red. “That’s what I’m trying to say.”
You reached up slowly and let your hand cradle the side of his face. He leaned into your touch, eyes closing. “It’s strange. I’m not used to this,” he said. “My parents loved me as far as they could use me. It’s how Faeries are. But you have used me for nothing, gained precious little advantage from having a Faerie living with you. And I wasn’t used to it. I still think I’m not used to it. But I am so… so… happy. For this. For you.” He blinked his eyes open. They were hazy with emotion. “Thank you.”
It was an impulse maybe you could have resisted if you were feeling better, but you were overwhelmed with feeling and not in the mood to fight with yourself. The hand on his cheek shifted position toward the back of his neck and pulled him down on top of you. His mouth pressed into yours, tense and unyielding, then softening as he realized what was happening.
There was a moment of fumbling, while Elwain registered that you were kissing. You broke away from his mouth, but he was pressing into you again, pulling you close to him and meeting your lips over and over with his own. His tongue brushed your lower lip and his moan sounded against your mouth.
You weren’t aware of how it happened, but suddenly you were lying back on the couch with Elwain on top of you. He was kissing you furiously, his hips flush to yours. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pushing him as close to you as you could get.
One of your gasping breaths caught in your chest, triggering a coughing fit. You rolled over, trying not to cough right into Elwain’s face. He sat back. His lips were already slightly kiss-swollen and he looked a bit rumpled. “Right,” he said, trying to finger-comb his hair back into a presentable state. “You’re still not feeling well.”
“Hold on. Give me a minute, we can keep going,” you said between coughs. Elwain pressed his lips together, but they were twitching toward a smile.
“You are admirably determined, but I think it would be better for you to rest,” he said. There was a pause. Elwain tugged on a few of the longer strands of his hair. “I take that to mean you feel the same way?”
“That I like you? Yeah.” You pulled him down so he was laying across your chest. He looked at you, eyes surprisingly wide and innocent. “When I first met you, I thought you were kind of an asshole. And you are kind of an asshole. But you’re also charming and endearing and you try to follow my rules even when you totally don’t have to. And you’re willing to take care of me when I’m sick.”
“You took care of me when I had lost everything,” Elwain said. “I only wished to return the favor.” His fingers wandered over your stomach, tracing absent patterns on your shirt. You could feel his warmth against your skin. “Usually, that’s how it works, with Faeries. Favors are given because giving means you can get something in return, and you’re always trying to leverage the deal to get more than what you’re giving.” He closed his eyes for a moment, brows furrowing. “But when I saw you were sick, I wasn’t thinking that I needed to pay you back. I was only thinking that I wanted to help you.”
You stroked your fingers through his hair. “That’s what love is.”
“Mortal love,” he sighed. “I always thought it was flimsy and weak and short-lived.” His eyes opened again and he nestled into you. “It’s much stronger than I thought. So much more than I believed. It almost hurts, but it’s a good hurt.”
You started coughing again. Elwain swung himself up and gathered you into his arms. “I’ll take you back to bed,” he said. “You need to get better. I want to continue this.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead. You rested your head on his shoulder and closed your eyes. His heartbeat thudded against you, slow and steady. The feeling of him holding you swelled and ached inside you, a pleasant ache. You clung to him as he eased you into bed and settled in next to you. Your illness was all but forgotten. Everything was soft and pleasant under a heady wave of love.
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reidgraygubler · 3 years
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sunflowers, daisies, lilacs, dahlias (spencer reid/reader)
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Title: sunflowers, daisies, lilacs, dahlias
Requested: yes, was a request someone sent to @imagining-in-the-margins​, but I took it of her hands :) (So i get this is sorta hard to do but i was wondering if you could write a spencer x nonbinary (gender-neutral pronouns) reader where reader isn’t out to the team yet but spencer finds out somehow and the reader is afraid he’ll reject them but instead he confesses his feelings and just starts info dumping about third genders in other cultures and the roots of binary america, etc. just like fluffy and accepting. once again, i get it if you don’t want to/can’t but that would be awesome)
Couple: spencer reid/non-binary!reader (they/them pronouns)
Category: fluff
Content Warning: swearing (if any), misgendering, usual criminal minds case work stuff, bi!spencer, lgbt+ history lesson, platonic cuddling (or is it?), kissing (not platonic), Doctor Who season 12 spoilers (weird, I know), afab!reader
Word Count: 4,110
Summary: reader comes out as non-binary to their best friend, Spencer, after they notice he changes the pronouns he uses to talk about them and after the team misgenders them.
A/N: pom (aka @imagining-in-the-margins​) posted this in her discord and said if someone had any ideas for this, we could have it. and i loved the request so i took it off her hands. im also non-binary and only out to a few friends, so this piece is dear to my heart. also, i wrote reader as afab, since that’s also me, but also the request says that reader isn’t out to the team yet, and i had to give reader a gender. so im sorry about that. that’s where the mis-gendering comes in. spencer’s nickname for reader is bumblebee when they’re friends, but once they start dating it’s honeybee… bc reader is…  enbee… thank you all so much for the support! i really do appreciate it. check out my masterlist!
{***}{***}{***}
It was a new day at work. A new day, a new me… Kinda, not really. It’s still old me. I’m just trying to figure out the new me. I think that makes sense. It makes sense to me, so that’s all that matters, I think.
Maybe today was the day I came out to the team as Non-Binary. That’d probably help my feeling of garbage. Not even my own family knew about my little secret. So that’s been something I’ve seriously been thinking about, telling everyone that I was Non-binary and preferred they/them pronouns. 
I kept my head low as I stepped off the elevator and onto the floor of the BAU. The good news is, people weren’t rushing around like I was partly expecting them to be. The bad news is, when I got to my desk, there was a stack of files, waiting to be looked over. And the unfortunate part was, I wouldn’t get to get through half of them, because something told me there was a current case we had to go on. 
That something being Emily Prentiss standing outside her office, looking for everyone on the team. I looked up at her with a pout as she nodded towards the conference room. I looked back at the stack of files before grabbing my go bag and going up to the conference room.
Everyone was already there, waiting for me. Although, I was usually late, in a sensible fashion. So I quickly took my seat beside Spencer and remained quiet as Penelope and Emily told us about the case.
{***}{***}{***}
“We can go to the most recent victim’s house, interview the siblings,” Spencer spoke up as we both walked up to Emily. I looked up at him and nodded, silently agreeing that I could go with. It’s not like I had anything better to do anyways. Tara and Luke were at the newest crime scene. David and Matt were with the ME. And Emily was about to go interrogate the suspect. So, going with Spencer would give me something to do. 
“She’ll have to conduct the interview,” Emily looked up from the file she was reading and right at me. I looked down, away from anyone who was possibly looking at me. Getting mis-gendered was something I was used to, by now anyways. But, for some reason, this time it really bothered me. Emily doesn’t know, it’s fine. It’s mostly my fault anyways. And, I guess it bothered Spencer too, because the expression on his face shifted from normal to… annoyed.
“Of course, they can do the interview. They’re the most like the victim,” Spencer looked at Emily before looking back at me. I looked at him and smiled softly. It was more of a nervous smile than anything else. A change, and correction, in pronoun… I hadn’t exactly told anyone that I preferred different pronouns, I had honestly gotten used to the unfortunate misgendering.
“I can do it, I’m perfectly capable of it,” I smiled at Spencer then over at Emily. So much for a change.
“Then that’s settled, she’ll do it,” Emily looked up at Spencer and smiled before allowing us to leave. I dropped my shoulders as I glanced at Spencer, who was glaring daggers at Emily. He wasn’t usually one to glare at his superiors, especially Emily. 
“We should get going, don’t you think,” I whispered as I looked up at Spencer. He finally looked down at me and nodded. “And, you can do the interview, if you want. I get that I’m a lot like the victim’s sister. But, you do interviews better than me,” I laughed and shook my head. 
“We can do it together. That’s the only way you can get better at interviewing,” he returned the laughter before following beside me. 
“That’s true,” I smiled at him. 
{***}{***}{***}
“I know we always do this, but thanks for letting me stay the night after hard cases,” I looked over at Spencer as he got in his car. I readjusted the grip on my bag as I looked away from Spencer.
“Of course, sleeping over at someone’s house after a case makes it easier to relax, especially after hard cases,” he looked over at me with a smile, “We can order Chinese food if you want,”  he added as he looked back at the road.  
“Yeah, I think I’d like that,” I nodded with a smile. Sometime between solving the last case, and the jet landing I gained the courage to bring up what happened before the interview. You know, the whole they/them thing… With Spencer. I still don’t know how he knew to change my pronouns. 
He was talking about something, it sounded like an episode of Doctor Who.  I sort of felt bad about that too, because I was hardly listening. I was one of the only few people who actually watched Doctor Who with him, and thoroughly enjoyed his commentary. 
“And then the Doctor, who, have I mentioned is a woman now, is in fact the Timeless Child. Did you know that?” He glanced at me as he went on. Again, I felt bad because I wasn’t totally paying attention. “Of course you knew that, we watched the episode together,” he continued to ramble about the episode.
“Spencer,” I spoke, my voice just loud enough for him to hear.
“Mhm, what?” he glanced over at me for a quick second. I looked at him, my mouth opening and closing a few times before actually saying what I was thinking. Which was...
“How did you know?” I asked, my voice a bit of a whisper. I was a little bit scared. How did he know? Sure, Spencer knows everything. But I’m not exactly… Out to the team, let alone Spencer. I don’t think I told him. 
“How did I know what, Bumblebee?” Spencer glanced over at me for a brief second. I sighed deeply as I looked over at him. 
“You used 'they'… When you and Emily were talking about me and the interrogation… You used 'they' and 'them' when you talked about me… How’d you know? I haven’t told anyone…” I whispered as I looked over at him. He stayed silent for a long time. I wasn’t too sure what he was thinking, but it made me very nervous. 
“I saw you at the library with a book about gender/sexuality history and science… And I saw you looking at a non-binary/gender non-conforming forum the other day. So, I connected the dots,” Spencer looked over at me as he pulled to a stop at the red light. I swallowed roughly as I looked at him. “I didn’t mean to off-”
“You didn’t offend me, Spence,” I whispered and shook my head before dropping my gaze from him. My fingers fiddled with the seatbelt across my lap. I could feel my heart going a million miles an hour, and no matter how hard I tried to calm it… nothing worked. “I just… I haven’t used the words out loud before… I’ve haven't told anyone… I mean, I’ve just figured it out myself,” I shrugged again. I glanced at him as he started going again. “I’ve always known I didn’t really identify as… Ya know… And I guess just recently I finally put a name to it,” I sighed as I pressed my head into the headrest. Spencer glanced at me, again. He was obviously trying to keep his eyes on the road, but he was very concerned about our conversation.
“You’ve never said it out loud? Or told anyone?” He asked, clarifying what I had just said. I swallowed roughly and nodded.
“Yeah, I just…” I stopped, letting my words trail off. My thoughts ran wild. If I just said that I was non-binary, it’d make my life easier, I’d be so much happier. So, why haven’t I just come out and said it? “So, say it now. It’s just me,” Spencer whispered as he looked over at me for the briefest second. My heart stopped with his words, and suddenly my mind was quiet. “No one else to hear."
“What?” I spoke, my voice a breathless whisper. I looked over at him and raised an eyebrow. 
“Only if you want to. I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to do.” Spencer’s voice was soft as he spoke. I looked over at him, feeling my stomach do an anxious flip.
“What if it changes the way you think about me?” I asked, feeling my throat tighten up around the words. Out of all of the friends that I had, Spencer was the only one I didn’t want to lose. In a weird way, I felt like he understood me. Like we were both the outcasts of the team, for our different reasons. 
“Why would that change the way I think of you?” Spencer looked up at me and I shrugged. I stared at him, feeling my face twist up in confusion. Even his face had some confusion on it. 
“I don’t know. People usually…” My words trailed off again, not knowing what I was exactly wanting to say to him. “You’re not mad at me? Or hate me or anything…? Right…?” I asked, my voice wavering slightly in fear. Fear of what? I was scared he would resent me. It wouldn’t have been the first, or last, time someone resented me. So, why would I expect him to not resent me? 
“Why would I hate you? Because you’re finally more comfortable with yourself? Or want to be more comfortable with yourself?” Spencer looked at me as he furrowed his brows. I looked down at my lap and shrugged. “You still haven’t said it, but we’re talking about it like you did,” he pointed out. I dropped my shoulders as I looked over at him. 
“You really want me to say it,” I laughed dryly. Spencer smiled at me and shrugged.
“Only if you want to. Just think about how much better you’ll feel,” he offered. I looked down at my lap and sighed.
“Yeah, yeah, okay,” I looked back up at him and smiled, “I’m non-binary.” I could feel a certain weight get lifted off my shoulders as I looked at him. Spencer also had a genuine smile on his lips as he looked at me. Like, he also seemed happy with my words.
 “There’s nothing wrong with that, you know,” Spencer smiled at me as he pulled into the parking lot of his apartment building. I glanced at him before laughing. “I’m being serious,” he chuckled lightly.
“I sure hope there’s nothing wrong with that. You’re the one who encouraged me to say it!” I laughed as I unbuckled. Spencer returned the laughter before looking over at me.
“Then, why do you care what the team thinks?” Spencer asked as he searched for his apartment keys. “Their opinion shouldn’t matter. It’s your life,” he shrugged and looked up at me once he finally found his keys.  
“Everyone on the team is all my friends and all my family…” I whispered as I looked over at him, “I don’t know what everyone will think,” I knew he wanted me to say it out loud to the team, but I was avoiding it. It’s not that I’m not ready. I just don’t want him to think differently of me.
“When has anyone on the team thought bad of you, Bumblebee?” Spencer asked again before parking the car. I swallowed roughly and looked back down at my lap. Of course, when I actually cut my hair short the first time… I had gotten a horrible haircut and everyone commented on it. “No one’s going to think anything bad about you if you come out,” he reassured. I sighed deeply as I looked towards the ground.
“Yeah, but I don’t care about them Spencer,” I rolled my eyes. I rolled my eyes because even though I do care what the team thinks, I think I care more about what Spencer thinks about me. But, I didn’t want to tell him that.
“Then, why were you so worried about it,” Spencer looked over at me before getting out of the car. I stayed in the car for a moment, silent with my thoughts. He’s got a point though. Why was I so worried about it? Of course, the team was my family. I don’t think I could risk losing the team for being… well, me. Maybe Spencer was right. Who am I kidding? Spencer’s always right. About everything. Maybe I should just tell the team… I’d feel a lot better.
I stayed quiet as we walked into the apartment building. In fact, we were both silent. Which was a rarity in our friendship; one of us was always talking, and it was always Spencer. He always had something to say. I wondered what he was thinking about in that head of his. Until I didn’t have to wonder...
“Native American people have a third gender, generally called two-spirit, where the person takes on roles more or less attributed to the opposite sex or both sexes,” Spencer suddenly started an info dump. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I read this exact thing in a book not too long ago. But, it meant so much to me that he wanted to tell me this.
“When europeans came along, they came with the strict gender binary rooted in Puritism, which put heavy emphasis on community and the importance of procreational (heterosexual) marriage within,” he paused to glance at me, probably to make sure I was still listening. And I was. There would be nothing to stop me from listening to him. 
 “Once the colonizers became a country after the american revolution, they wanted to get as far away from britain as possible. Part of this came with separating themselves from the effeminate man of Britain, whom they saw as feminine and dainty. As a result, they made the American Man, who is basically Teddy Roosevelt in that he is rugged, bold, strong, brutish, daring, and able to survive on the frontier and provide for his family,” he continued as he unlocked the door to his apartment. It was nice to be in a familiar place that felt like home, and felt safe.
“In comparison, the woman was supposed to be the American Housewife who stayed at home, cooked the meals, and raised the children. Thus, the American binary,” Spencer continued his info dump, clearly not knowing he was talking outloud. 
I just stared at Spencer with the utmost adoration in my eyes and face. A small smile grew on my lips as he continued to ramble and info dump about stuff I was newly introduced to. I don’t know why I didn’t tell him sooner, I’m sure he would have been a big help. “That’s very interesting, Spencer,” I smiled at him and cocked my head to my shoulder. Spencer looked at me, a slight panicked look in his eye. 
“I’m… I’m sorry, was I rambling?” He stopped talking and looked at me after a moment of him talking. I shook my head, silently telling him he wasn’t rambling, even though he totally was. At this point we had parted ways, but still held the conversation between rooms, and across his apartment, him being in the kitchen while I stayed in the living room.
“Anyways… I could continue going on about it all. How WW2 influenced the LGBT community and how Nuclear Families messed it all up too,” he spoke before stepping out of the kitchen and leading me to his bedroom. 
“I’m sorry, what?” I looked back at him with furrowed eyebrows. I was honestly surprised with that tiny tidbit of information. “Go on,” I raised a brow as I looked at him. I got comfortable on the bed while I waited for him.
“Yeah! The advent of urban areas provided the perfect place for sexuality and gender identity expression,” he continued talking as he stepped into the bathroom to change, and even continued while in the bathroom, “Many single people suddenly began moving from rural farms with family and religion to urban apartments on their own or with someone of the same identity/gender/sex,” he finally concluded before stepping out of the bathroom. I looked at him and cocked my head to my shoulder. I didn’t have anything to say after he rambled on, so we both stayed silent as we got comfortable in bed. 
“How do you know so much about gender identity and the LGBT community?” I asked, turning to face him more. Spencer looked at me with a nervous smile before looking out to the blanket spread out over us. 
“Oh, I, uh… I did a lot of research when I saw you in the library… And, after I saw you on the forum,” Spencer looked at me and nodded. I could sense that he was lying, and he knew that I could sense it. So, I raised an eyebrow.
“I’m sure this is the exact reason,” I smiled before shifting down the bed to get comfortable, “No other reason?” I looked up at him. 
“Nope, no other reason,” he looked down at his book before shaking his head. I could tell there was definitely something, and I could tell he wanted to tell me. But, I won’t force it out of him, just like how he didn’t force it out of me.
“Well, if you have something to tell me… I won’t force it outta you,” I looked over at him with a smile. Spencer glanced at me before grabbing for a book on his nightstand. I shifted down the bed and looked at my phone. “No one’s going to think anything bad about you,” I glanced at him again, repeating the exact things he said to me early in the evening. Spencer glared at me before looking back in his book.
“You’re the worst,” 
“You’re worse than me, Spence,” I laughed as I looked at my phone. I grinned as I browsed random social media. “It’s okay, I get it,” I shrugged before falling silent. 
“I suppose it’s only fair,” he spoke out loud after a moment of silence. I looked up at him, watching as he shifted in his seat. He closed his book before looking down at me, “I guess I’ve been in the same boat as you for a while… Not knowing what anyone would think if I came out, fearing that they’d hate me or judge me,”
“Spencer, you’re the most loved person on the team. No one would ever hate you or judge you,” I sat up before turning to look at him. Spencer looked up at me and nodded. I’m glad we could both agree on that. If anyone hated Spencer Reid, I can guarantee that they’d have a whole fleet of FBI agents on their ass. “You can trust me with anything, Spencer,” I whispered before reaching out for his hands. He looked down at where our hands sat before cocking his head to the side.
“I already trust you more than anyone on the team,” he smiled and chuckled with a nod, “I’ve never told anyone except for one person,” he whispered as he looked up at me.
“That’s okay,” I shrugged as I looked at him. 
“I’m bisexual,” he whispered, his eyes dropping away from my. I stared at him, taking a deep breath. A small smile tugged on the corner of my lips as a worried look grew on Spencer’s. 
“Was that so bad?” I whispered as I fell forward to give him a hug. Spencer laughed as he embraced me. “It felt good, didn’t it?” I backed away from him slightly. Spencer smiled and nodded.
“Like a weight off my shoulders,” he laughed as he looked back at me, “Thanks for that,”
“No, thank you, Spencer, I really needed you and your wonderful words of wisdom… I’ve been struggling with my sexuality a lot, ever since I was a teen really, and you just being there helped,” I smiled at him as I got comfortable in the bed. With that, we fell into a comfortable silence. Sleep wouldn’t find its way to us anytime soon. I think we were both still reeling on the adrenaline of the day. 
But then, I started thinking about our conversation in the car. When I had mentioned I was worried about him (or anyone else) thinking differently of me. I mean, that’s been a fear of mine for years. Someone can go from loving you to the ends of the earth to wanting to be on the furthest end of the earth just to be away from you. So, my fear was totally valid. I didn’t want to lose my friendship with Spencer, or anyone on the team.  
I quickly glanced at Spencer, noting that he was still quietly reading his book. He seemed at total peace with, well, everything. How did he do it? How did he get out of his head after a rough case, and after such a serious conversation? There were too many things I wanted to know, and too many questions I wanted to ask… Why not just ask them?
So, I did...
“Earlier, when you said me being non-binary wouldn’t change the way you think of me… How do…” I paused for a minute, trying to figure my next set of words. Because I could say something wrong, and it’d be the end of everything. “What do you think of me?” I looked up at him as I spoke. He smiled softly and nodded. It was probably a mistake, asking him what his thoughts were on me. I could only think of the worst. Well, I shouldn’t say the worst possible. Worst case scenario was that he was faking it all and he actually hated me. Well, don’t be too hard on yourself.  
“Well, you know,” Spencer shrugged as he shifted closer to me. I looked up at him before leaning away from him. 
“No, I don’t think I do know,” I stared at him, furrowing my eyebrows. He looked at me, dropping his book to his lap and slumping his shoulders slightly. 
“I love you… Okay? I love you whether you’re they/them, she/her, he/him, I don’t care, as long as you’re happy. If you’re happy, then I’m happy, because that’s all that matters to me. Your happiness,” he rambled for a minute. I just stared at him, feeling my shoulders relax as he spoke. My heart rate raised as he continued to talk about how he really felt about me, and I wished he said something sooner… “Hearing Emily misgendering you, and knowing what was going through your head… Sucked… It sucked watching! You deserve the best things…” He continued on, not caring that he was still rambling.
“Spencer,” I whispered, resting a hand on his shoulder to gain his attention. 
“And it’s ridiculous how long I’ve been in love with you too! I should have said something sooner but I didn’t! I don-”
“Spencer!” I shouted this time. It wasn’t an angry shout, though. No, the giggles in my voice and joyful smile on my lips told a different story. And that seemed to get his attention, considering he stopped talking and looked at me. His eyes scanned my face, landing on the joyous smile on my lips. 
“Yes?” He asked softly. I nearly fell into his body, and face, as I let my excitement get the better of me as I tried to kiss him. Spencer laughed as he lifted his hands to my shoulders to make sure I didn’t crash into him.
“I love you too,” I smiled as I looked up at his face. His eyes landed back on my face, his smile becoming soft as he looked at me. The expression his face held showed me that I was now his everything. And, it was a new feeling. I would never get used to a feeling so… grand. But, it was a feeling that I loved, and knew it’d be around for a long time. “What do you think the team will say?” I asked, looking at Spencer as he cupped my face in his hands. 
“About what, Honeybee?” he retorted, his voice a soft whisper. 
“About us, you and me being, well, you and me,” I tried to bite back my smile but failed when Spencer smiled back.
“Who cares what they think… I just care about you,” he smiled before pulling me back in for another kiss. 
“I think I like that answer." 
taglist: @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto​ , @thebluetint​
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anonymous-tals · 3 years
Text
Oops, I projected my mental health issues onto a fictional character that is similar to me.  Time to write fanfiction, I guess!
TW: Eating Disorders.  If you are struggling or are in recovery from an eating disorder, here’s a big ol’ trigger warning.  There are no numbers or specifics about anything but it does center around Brad Bakshi of the show Mythic Quest struggling with his eating disorder.
This is not in an attempt to glamorize eating disorders(not that I wrote anything that would but just in case someone misinterprets this).  Eating disorders are not cute or quirky.  They are serious illnesses that lead to death.  If you are struggling with an eating disorder, you deserve recovery.  Please reach out for help to a trusted adult.
National Eating Disorder Association 1-800-931-2237
One last trigger warning for eating disorders before we begin!  I hope the writing isn’t trash.  If you have any critiques, feel free to comment them.  I hope you enjoy the story(if this is cringey, future me, you have permission to murder me right now):
Brad’s eyes opened, squinting as he tried to adjust to the harsh lights.  He looked around the room, confused as to where he was.  After a couple of seconds, he identified the room as a hospital room.  There was a lady sitting on a chair by the door reading a book.  Adjusting himself, Brad slowly sat up, his head aching as he did.  The lady perked up as she noticed Brad had awakened.
“Oh!  You’re awake!”, she said, calmly, putting down her book.
“Where-Where am I?”, said Brad.
“You’re in the hospital, sir.”  Brad looked around the room.  The walls were a cool green.  Typical nature photos shuffled through on a tv that was mounted on the wall in front of his bed as it waited to be used.  There was a thin door that he guessed was either a bathroom or a closet.  Brown cupboards lined the walls.  He moved his arm only to notice there was a tube attached to it.
“What the hell happened?”, he thought.  The previous day, or what he presumed to be the previous day, had been foggy.  Well, pretty much everyday lately had been a blur.
“I’m going to go tell a nurse you’re awake so we can do weights and vitals.”  A pang of fear struck him at the sound of the word weight.  Someone else was going to see what he weighed.  His thoughts were racing.
“Just take a deep breath.”, he thought.  He tried to calm himself down by looking around the room.  He noticed there was a card on the counter beneath the cabinets.  Curiosity got the best of him and he stood up.  Stars popped into his vision and he steadied himself before making his way to the counter.  The tube was just barely long enough for him to reach it.  The cover read, ‘Get well soon!’.  Brad walked back to the hospital bed and sat on the edge of the mattress.  “I wonder who it’s from?”, he thought, opening the card.  “I can’t believe you are in the hospital!  You appeared so healthy.  Get well, soon, motu.”
“Brad Bakshi?”, a nurse called from the doorway.  He looked up, tossing the card into a trash can by the bed.  The lady who had been sitting in the room with him walked in and sat down again, opening her book.  “Hello, I’m Amanda Armstrong and I’ll be your nurse today.  Do you know why you’re here?”, she said.
“No.”, Brad replied, shortly.
“Well, you were brought here by…”, she looked down at a clipboard she was holding.  “...Ian Grimm?  Does that name sound familiar?”
“Yes, he’s my boss.”  Brad kept his voice calm but his heart was starting to quicken.  Memories from the day previous began to surface.
“Well, he said you had fainted while walking up a flight of stairs.”  Brad’s calm demeanor cracked as the memories flooded back.
“Oh...yah.  I remember that.”
“Yes, well, you got a concussion.  Thankfully, it isn’t too bad.”
“When will I be getting out?”, Brad said, shaking away his feelings of anxiety.
“Well, let’s take your vitals first and then we can discuss that.  Come with me.”  Brad followed Amanda out into the hall.  They didn’t walk for long but the environment made him feel uneasy.  There was something surreal about it.  Or maybe it was the fact that he felt a little light headed that made everything feel a bit off.  “We’ll be in here.”, said Amanda, opening the door.  Brad entered the room, surveying his surroundings.  It looked like a typical room for check-ups.  Amanda made her way to the computer sitting on the desk and started logging in and opening a file.  “Ok, let’s do your vitals.  I’m going to ask you to lay down and stay still, please!”  She walked over to the wall where a weird machine stood.  “I’m just going to put this on your arm, if you’d roll up your sleeve for me.”  Brad rolled up his sleeve and she velcroed what appeared to be something relating to blood pressure.  “Ok, I’m going to need you to answer honestly.  Have you had any feelings of depression or sadness?”
“Excuse me?”, said Brad, startled, sitting up.
“Please lay down, Mr.Bakshi.  Begrudgingly, Brad lay down.
“Why on earth are you asking me this?”, said Brad, frustrated.
“Well…”, she hesitated.  “Ok, I’m going to be direct with you here.  Your boss reported that you hadn’t been eating much and you have been appearing to be quite fatigued and dizzy.  Right now, we’re doing your vitals to see what we’ll need to do.”
“Are you implying that I have an eating disorder?  I’ll tell you right now that I don’t.”
“Well, the lanugo is telling a different story.  Now, please, let’s go through the questions.”  The nurse asked the questions while doing the vitals despite Brad giving short, passive aggressive answers.
“Ok, time for weight and height.”  Brad's heart quickened.
“Do we have to?”
“I’m going to have you turn around.  You won’t even see it!”  He stepped onto the scale as he tried to hide his growing panic.
“You fat idiot.  If you restricted more, maybe you wouldn’t be so anxious right now.  You wouldn’t even be here, I bet!  You fat, stupid, fatty-”
“Ok, you can step off!”  The nurse's voice interrupted his thoughts and he stepped off the scale.  Ok, let’s do your height.
She measured his height and then went over the computer and input the information.
“Ok.  So, here’s what we’ve got going on here, Mr.Bakshi.  Your vitals are showing symptoms of anorexia and so is your BMI.”
“BMI is garbage.”, Brad said dismissively.
“Well, that doesn’t disregard any of the other information.  I can’t force you to do anything since you’re an adult but I would highly suggest going into inpatient care.”
“For the last time, I don’t have an eating disorder!  Sorry, I care about my health!  I thought losing weight was a good thing!”  The nurse sighed before closing out of the tabs on the computer.
“Well, you can think it over during the next couple days.  You’ll need to stay here to make sure your head is okay.”  Rolling his eyes, Brad scoffed.
“Fine, whatever.  My decision won’t change, though!”
They headed back to the room and Brad sat down on his bed.  He stared at the tv.  It had just faded to a picture of a monarch butterfly on a purple flower.  His gaze travelled across the room until it fell onto the card he had thrown in the trash can.
“I bet I wouldn’t even get diagnosed with anything.  I’m too fat.  I need to be thinner.  I’m not even that bad.  I need to be that bad, though.”  Just then, a sharp knock on the door halted his thoughts in their tracks.  Brad looked up to see David standing at the doorway with a balloon and a gift bag.
  “Great, just what I needed.”, said Brad, sarcastically.
“Nice to see you too, Brad.”  Brad rolled his eyes in response.  “The office was really worried about you!  You sure took a tumble.  Anyways, here’s a balloon!  And a gift!  Courtesy of your friends at the office!”
“Interesting.  I didn’t consider you guys as friends.”, Brad replied coldly.
“What do you want me to say, then?  Huh?  Courtesy of everyone you annoy and pester?”  Brad looked away, not responding.  He was finding it harder and harder to keep his emotions hidden underneath.
“Listen, David.  I don’t care about you guys and you guys don’t care about me and I’d like to keep it that way.”
“I’m sorry we’re decent enough human beings to care about other people.”
“Pshh, you don’t care about me.  You just want to feel good about yourselves so you can feel like you’re a decent human being.  So you can stop pretending you care about me because you don’t, ok?  No one does.”  His emotions were slipping through.  He could feel his eyes welling up but he wouldn’t allow the tears to fall.
“Come on, Brad.  Of course people care about you!  Your brother for example!  He’s a great guy!  He threw you that awesome birthday party, remember?”  Brad sat still, not responding.  “Earth to Brad, anyone in there?”, David said, giving a small laugh.
“Shut up!”  Brad shouted loudly, causing David to wince.  “My brother is a horrible person.  He has gone out of his way to ruin my life.  In fact, he is ruining my life right now.”  His voice cracked as a tear broke through.
“Brad, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize-”
“Just leave, ok?  Please just leave.”  Brad’s heart began to beat faster.  “You idiot.”, he thought.  “You let him see that you’re weak.  You are weak.  You’re just a fat, weak, pussy.”  His breathing was getting quicker and quicker.  The room started to spin.  It felt like everything was happening all at once.  Just then, he felt a hand on each of his shoulders.
“Take a deep breath, ok?”, said David.  Brad hesitated before taking a deep breath in and letting it out.  “In, 2, 3, 4.  Out, 2, 3, 4.  In, 2-”  Slowly Brad began to calm down.  He opened his eyes, not even realizing that he had closed them.  “Better?”, asked David, taking a step back.  Brad looked towards the window, avoiding eye contact, wiping the tears from his face.  He tried to think of something witty to say but he was too tired.  They were both quiet for a bit before David broke the silence.  “Well, I have to go but I-”
“Stay.  Please.”  Brad didn’t break eye contact with the window.
“I...I guess I could stay.”  David pulled up the chair that the lady had been in earlier.  They sat there in silence for a while before David grabbed the remote for the TV.  “Are you good with me putting something on?”  Brad stayed quiet.  “I’ll take that as a yes!”  He scrolled through the small selection of movies before choosing something and relaxing into his chair.
They sat there for a while.  Movies played while David talked about what had happened at the office that day.  Poppy and Ian created an obstacle course to see who was better.  Not better at one specific thing.  Just better in general.  Brad didn’t respond but every once in a while, a small smile would crack through.
“Well, it’s getting late so I think I should actually get going.”, David said, standing up and started walking out the door.  Just before he left, Brad spoke.
“Thank you...for staying and all.”  He, once again, wasn’t making eye contact.
“Of course, man.  It’s no big deal!”  There was a pause before Brad spoke again.
“They want me to do an inpatient program.”
“Oh?  For…”  David trailed off.
“Yah…”  Brad started fidgeting with the corner of the blanket on the bed.  “I don’t know what to do.  Whether I should go or not.”
“Well, I’d say you should do what you think would benefit you best.”, said David, taking a couple steps towards him.  Brad was silent.
“...Thanks, David.”
David gave a small wave as he walked out the door.  Brad sat there awake for a while, unable to sleep.  He sat there, listening to the sounds of the hospital through the door.  A woman, presumably a nurse, poked her head in the room.  “Would you like to order dinner?”  Brad shook his head and the nurse left.  He then spotted the gift bag that David had brought.  He picked it up and removed the tissue paper stuffed in at the top.  Inside there was a pig plush and a card.  The plushy was adorable and very soft.  He pet the pig plush, enjoying the soothing texture, before placing it in his lap and moving onto the card.  It was your typical get better soon card.  On the inside, there were either signatures or little get well messages from everyone.  It seemed like the pig plush was Jo’s idea.  Brad leaned over and placed the card on the side table next to his bed.  He looked at it for a minute before grabbing the pig, getting under the covers and falling asleep.
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whatifxwereyou · 3 years
Text
The Oncoming Storm Part 26: Sick
Liu Kang x Reader and Kung Lao x Reader (gonna do both, two paths!)
You finally see where they sleep and get to take care of them a little bit. Finally. And Kung Lao is back! Yay!
A/N: I missed writing Kung Lao so much, I didn't realize how much until I was writing him again. He feeds into my sarcastic insides. My biggest suggestion for reading anything I write is to add sarcasm in your head. Lol. Hope you guys are doing well! I got home yesterday but had this chapter prepped and ready to go since I knew I'd be jetlagged today. Smooches.
Part 25 Part 27 Chapter Index
You rejoined Liu Kang who had very much still been watching you. He no longer made any attempt to hide it.
“Everything alright?” He looked weary. You couldn’t un-notice it.
“Yeah. Chen wanted to catch up, but I told her later.” Was it just you or had he gotten paler? You touched his forehead with the back of your hand, and he was radiating heat. But Liu Kang was always a little warmer than most. He pulled your hand away from his forehead and chuckled under his breath.
“I’m fine, Y/N.” He gave your hand a gentle squeeze before letting it go. “Careful down here, by the way. The monks can be a little…” He drifted off.
“Yeah, they’re huge drama queens and gossips. I know. You have no idea how much I know.”
“Yes.” He kept his eyes on the floor ahead of you, as if to purposely avoid eye contact with you. “They are all very nice, but they are also… as you put it… dramatic.”
“I can handle it. I think they’re kind of funny. Besides, I got used to being gossiped around as a kid.” You walked slowly with him through the halls, not exactly sure where you were headed, dragging your bag behind you. “How are you feeling?”
“What, are you worried about me?” He grinned mischievously.
“I am never going to live that down, am I?” You groaned.
“Nope. But it is very sweet that you do. I’m okay. I don’t feel like I have a fever. I’m sore and tired but it has been a wild few days, Y/N.”
“It has been.” You walked, somewhat aimlessly. “Are you going to rest?”
“Yes. Doctor’s orders.”
“How very well behaved of you.”
“My constitution is usually reliable when it comes to illness but if Kung Lao has that high a fever, then I should be careful. Usually, I’d ignore these orders for a little fever but I’m taking the effects of these artifacts very seriously. I know my limits. I don’t know theirs.”
“Is it okay if I make sure that you get back to your room to rest?”
“Oh?” He stopped walking and so you did the same. He stepped closer to you and stood over you and you straightened your posture in response. He tilted your chin up to him, pushing his boundaries with. He smirked which was the most beautiful expression you ever saw him make. “Worried?”
“Oh, god.” You made a sound of disgust. “Yes. Okay? I’m worried about you. Are you happy now?”
“Very.” Liu considered and then resumed his walk next to you. You joined him, relieved that you’d finally kept your composure in front of him. Liu Kang getting that closer to you? He knew what he was doing. You were beginning to think that they both knew exactly what they were doing and were in cahoots! They were cahooting! “I’m fine, Y/N, but yes you may accompany me.”
“I’m sorry for all of that, by the way.” You followed his lead down the hall and up a flight of stairs. “The worry thing, that is. I don’t mind that you worry about me. You were right. I got so far in my head that I was up my own ass.”
“It’s okay, Y/N. I know this has been difficult. I appreciate you taking the time to clarify things. I’m still going to tease you about it. I’m not sorry for that.” Liu led you through a door at the end of the hall. You stopped in the doorway to take in his space. His windows were covered with various draped cloths. There were scrolls hung on the walls, shelves of books, a desk, prayer beads, incense, and a prayer mat nearby. His bed was neatly made.
“It’s funny. This is exactly how I pictured your room.”
“Oh?” Liu turned to you in surprise. “You pictured it, did you?”
“I did. I pictured more books though.” You rolled your eyes at him as he teased you but couldn’t help but smile. You liked that he was teasing you a little bit. It was cute.
“I donate most of my books to the library when I’m done with them to share with everyone so that was not an incorrect assumption.” He sat on the edge of his bed and rested his elbows on his knees, hand over his left eye.
“Are you okay?” You risked being teased to worry about him again, crouching in front of him to catch his gaze.
“Headache.” He was looking gray.
“I’ll be right back.” You left his room, abandoning your little bag. You felt his eyes on you until they could no longer be. On each floor there were several rooms where waterflow had been setup in a rudimentary system that you were thankful for. You found the closest one to Liu’s room, filled a bowl with cold water, grabbed a clean cloth, and then returned to his room. You set the bowl on the little table next to his bed and then dipped the cloth in it. Then you wrung it out and gently dabbed at his forehead and held it next to his eye in hopes it would offer him some relief from the headache. He was watching you with deep admiration. It radiated from him. Sometimes Liu didn’t have to say what he was thinking because you could just tell.
“Thank you.”
“Just returning the favor.”
“You don’t owe me anything.”
“I know. I want to help you though.”
Liu laid back on his bed and you sat on the edge of it next to him and brushed his hair away from his face gently. You could see why he enjoyed doing that to you. “You can stay with me if you want.” You mentally revisited that morning almost immediately and decided you should clear your head instead.
“I’ll stay until I’m sure that you’re resting. If you want, I can read to you the way that you used to for me.”
“I’d like that.”
You stood and perused his books.
There were a handful set atop the bookshelf that were about Huangshan and then even more about ancient curses. You took the book about Huangshan and found where he’d marked in the middle of the book and sat next to him again. You rested the book in your lap, took the wet cloth, and rested it on his forehead, above his eye. His skin was hotter than usual. The fever had gotten worse even over the few minutes that it had taken you to get to his room.
Then you read to him, trying to be as clear and concise as he had been. It was soothing to watch him as he listened to you. He rested one hand on your lap and closed his eyes. Before you knew it, he had fallen asleep. You closed the book and marked your spot. Liu was pale and you took the cloth from his face. Hopefully, the fever didn’t last very long but it had also felt wonderful to take care of him. You knew you didn’t owe him anything, but it was nice to be able to return his kindness.
You sat with him for a few more moments then set the book on the nightstand, tucked him in, and left. Now you just had to find and check on Kung Lao. You dragged your bag behind you deciding you would blindly search the same floor. Besides, this would keep you busy and well, a 104 fever was nothing to laugh at.
You didn’t have to search for long. When you turned the corner, there was Kung Lao, walking right toward you.
“Hey you! You seen Liu?” Kung Lao was pale and had bags beneath his eyes. You could tell with one look at him that he was clammy. Even his usually rosy lips were ashen.
“Yes, but he’s asleep. Not feeling well.” You gestured behind you and then stepped closer and poked his chest. “You are as white as a sheet, Kung Lao.”
“I’m fine. Are you doing okay? I was worried after you left, and I came down with this annoying fever.”
“Unlike you, I am actually fine. Whatever this is? It hit you guys. I dodged it.”
“Because you’re already cursed, right? So, you’re used to feeling like garbage all the time?”
“Wow, that makes me feel great. Thanks, Lao. Shouldn’t you be in bed?”
“I need to talk to Liu first.”
“Well, Liu is sleeping. Talk to him tomorrow.”
“Fine,” he whined, pouting and batting his eyelashes. “But it’s important!”
“Is this something that I could help you with in his stead? I’m going to insist that you let him rest.”
“Well, I need to talk to Liu about something, but you can take my temperature so that I don’t have to go back to the stupid infirmary. Then you could lie to them and tell them I’m fine. Wait, scratch that, you’re a terrible liar. They’ll never believe you.”
“I don’t understand why you hate it there so much. They’re nice.” You placed the back of your hand to his forehead and pulled it back in alarm. “Yeah, wow, you are on fire. Please got to bed. I can’t force you, but I can annoy you until you do.”
“Dammit. Stupid bell,” he grumbled.
“Are you sure that you don’t want to go get some medicine to help with it or something?”
“No. I won’t. You took my temperature. That counts as checking in.” Kung Lao snapped and you cocked an eyebrow in surprise. “Fine. Okay. Yeah. You know what? Fine.” He sighed and pulled off his hat long enough just to push his sweaty hair back. “They’re very nice. You’re right. I know that but I don’t like being confined there or poked at or told what to do. And I don’t care for doctors in general.”
“Why? They’re just trying to help.”
He avoided your eyes and looked at his feet with a pout. “Bad memories.”
“Childhood trauma? Lao…”
“Memories of someone who had a rough time with doctors.”
“What? Me? I’m the cause of all this?”
“Of course, you. You used to come back from those stupid doctors crying or feeling worse off from a treatment for something that wasn’t treatable with medicine.” He looked very much like a defiant child in that moment.
“They were trying to help me, Kung Lao. They had never meant to hurt me.”
“Yeah, well I hated watching you suffer. So there.”
“Wow,” you laughed beneath your breath. Honestly, you were a little touched. You’d had no idea that the short time you’d spent together as kids had such a profound impact upon him. It had on you too, you supposed. No man had ever stood up to Kung Lao. At least not before Liu Kang. “It’s kind of sweet.”
“No, it’s very not sweet.”
“It’s a lot sweet, actually.”
“Please stop.”
“Come on, Kung Lao. You need rest.” You decided not to tease him in his moment of weakness. You would hold onto that information for later though. When he was feeling better, all bets were off. You grabbed his arm and began to guide him in the direction that he’d been coming from.
“Where are you taking me? To your room? To force me to rest?” He grinned.
“No, I’m expecting you to guide me back to your room so that I can force you to rest.”
“Oh, that is closer I guess.” He gestured behind him and turned you around and then stopped to sway and regain his balance. He really was sick. You needed to get him to bed. “This way. Though, I don’t need to go to bed. I’m fine.” Despite his objections he led you down the hallway and presumably toward his room.
“Says the man who almost fell over just turning around. Do you want to end up back in the infirmary?”
“No,” he snapped again.
“Then you need to rest, Lao.”
“Yes, mom.” He rolled his eyes but then turned a corner and led you into the room just on the other side of it. You were surprised when he opened the door. It was tidy. And organized. He had a collection of weapons on one wall, a prayer mat that looked like it had never been used, and a series of ropes tied from wall to wall on one side of the room that you guessed were for movement practice. His bed was unmade but everything else was put away.
“I did not expect this.”
“What?”
“I expected chaos.”
“I have been trained my whole life to be disciplined, Y/N. To have control and respect.”
“Not in my experience with you.”
He laughed and then held his sore side and coughed with a whine. You heaved a sigh and he slowly turned his gaze and whined. “Okay, so maybe I need rest.”
“Uh, yeah.” You nudged his shoulder carefully. “You went through so many doors the other day and now… this fever. Rest will help.”
“Fine.” He kicked off his shoes and then crawled into bed. It was clear to you that he was trying to save face by not whining or wincing as he laid back. It was cute. You tucked him in, and he shivered. You sat next to him. He admired you and then nodded toward his side.
“You still confused?”
You turned your gaze and stiffened up. “We don’t need to talk about that right now. You need rest.”
“That’s a big ol’ yes.”
You couldn’t help but smile.
“I’m cold. Thought maybe you could keep me warm.” He batted his eyelashes at you again. “Kiss me and make me feel better?” He couldn’t keep a straight face while he said it.
“I’m leaving now, Lao.” You stood and he reached for your hand to stop you. It was wrapped in gauze.
“Y/N?” His playful tone had faded.
“What?”
“Stay until I’m asleep? No funny business, I promise.”
How could you say no to that? You’d melted. “Yeah, I can do that.” You sat on the floor next to his bed, resting your back against it. You sat quietly and he tucked his arm back beneath the blankets.
“…did you kiss Liu again?”
“You’re making it really hard for me to stay, Lao.”
He laughed. “So defensive. Okay.” He tilted his head toward you so you turned and leaned with your arms resting against his mattress. He’d done the same for you on more than one occasion. Your grandma wouldn’t let him in on days where you’d been particularly ill or had a bad visit to the doctor. So, he had instead climbed in through your bedroom window and sat next to your bed, arms folded just like yours were now. He’d made you laugh. Stayed with you while you’d slept. You’d forgotten about those tender moments. In your grief, you had forgotten many things about him. “Thanks for not bailing on me when I’m frustrating.”
“You should be grateful.” You teased but in truth you had no real desire to leave until after you were certain he was resting. It didn’t take long. Only moments after he’d allowed his body to rest, he’d fallen asleep. He had needed it. You waited some time afterward to make certain he was really sleeping and not just faking it. He couldn’t be trusted.
He was sweet when he slept.
You had to make your choice. There was no more putting it off.
You’d mull over it the remainder of the day while they rested and then you would decide. You weren’t sure how you were going to make that decision or how you would tell them about it but you would figure it out. You weren’t scared of it anymore.
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maulusque · 4 years
Text
WHAT IF MAUL KIDNAPPED ANAKIN RIGHT OFF OF TATOOINE
(I started writing this and then it got out of hand and now it’s 3:30 in the morning, rest of it’s under the break so i don’t monopolize your dash)
So for whatever combination of reasons, Maul spits out the kool-aid and gets really disenchanted with Sidious a lot earlier than in canon. He starts wondering things like “why is he not telling me his master plan if i’m so important to it?” and “why do i get nothing more than vague promises of power sometime in the future, when i should be guaranteed a position as his second-in-command, after all I’ve done for this guy?” and “why does he treat me like i’m disposable, and then constantly tell me i’m crucial for his plans?”
and he starts thinking things like “hey wait a minute, none of that childhood torture made me better at anything sith-related, it just gave me crippling trauma that actually impairs my capacity for self-control and incredible violence” and (possibly due to his experiences at Orsis Academy) “oh whack looks like kids learn a lot better and faster when they’re, like, having fun? Whatever ‘fun’ is?”
and anyway by the time he gets to tatooine with orders to “find that stoner jedi and kick his ass”, Maul is pretty annoyed at his master. And when he senses not one, not two, but THREE powerful force-presences on Tatooine, one of which vastly eclipses any other force presence he’s ever felt, and belongs to a nine-year-old slave boy, Maul gets an idea. You know, (he thinks), his master sure would love to get his hands on a force-baby like that. Master Sidious sure would be evilly thrilled to have an extremely powerful nine-year-old delivered directly to his doorstep on coruscant, with the jedi having to do all the heavy lifting of training the kid. Master Sidious would probably want nothing more than to have this kid be taken in by the Jedi, so he can start grooming a new apprentice. 
And Maul, full of spite and an as-yet-undiscovered need to adopt every force-sensitive in sight, decides to deprive Sidious of a potential apprentice. He follows Anakin to Naboo (in this universe, Anakin still wins the podrace, still wins his own freedom), and, after the fighting is over, sees a prime window of opportunity, and kidnaps Anakin right out from under the Jedi’s nose. 
(In this universe, Obi-Wan does not cut Darth Maul in half and dump him down the garbage chute- Maul, unwilling to do his master’s bidding any longer, doesn’t go full out against Qui-Gon, doesn’t kill him, and Obi-Wan doesn’t get that grief-and-rage filled boost that helped him dismember Maul last time. The fight ends, the Jedi are convinced that Maul is dead, and Naboo is freed).
Once Maul has the kid, since he’s a pragmatic guy, he also returns to Tatooine and takes the kid’s mom. Maul doesn’t know how to cook, do laundry, tie shoes, or any of that shit. He doesn’t want to have to PARENT the kid, he just wants to train him. 
Maul has zero money, and also zero subtlety, so he stomps into Watto’s shop, grabs him by the neck, and says “The boy's mother is coming with me. You will disable her slave chip and let her leave unharmed, or I will squeeze your head off.” Watto complies. For Anakin, this is his first real impression of Maul- storming the junk shop and threatening his former master for the freedom of Anakin’s mother.
Maul is determined to do a better job training Anakin than Sidious did training Maul. Because FUCK Sidious. Maul can be a WAY better Sith than Sidious ever allowed him to be. And since Maul is slowly realizing how... unhelpful... the way he was raised was, he’s determined to figure out how to do it better.
So he reads. He reads training manuals, child psychology books, teaching books, studies on motivation and performance, anything he can get his nerdy little hands on. He learns that frightened children don’t perform well. He learns about “trauma”, and how “trauma” makes it hard to control your emotions sometimes. Well, you can’t have THAT in your ultimate sith apprentice. Okay, so no scaring Anakin and no traumatizing him. Maul quickly realizes that literally everything he does frightens Anakin or his mom, and frightening Anakin’s mom also frightens Anakin (cut him some slack, he’s literally never been in a positive relationship, Maul has no model for any behavior other than “evil abuser” and “subservient slave”).
Maul is not an idiot. He knows he’s not doing it right. He’s reluctant to start teaching Anakin ANYTHING until he knows he won’t accidentally damage his precious spite-apprentice. So he mostly ignores the kid while he reads and learns.
He also observes. Specifically, he observes Shmi Skywalker. Somehow, she seems to be able to interact with Anakin without scaring him. She can even tell him what to do without scaring him. She can teach and correct him without scaring him. And she never physically hurts him at all. Maul is kind of blown away- he didn’t even know it was possible to interact with people like that? HOW does she DO it???
So Maul watches and learns. He practices. Shmi helps, guides him, tells him when he messes up and tells him how to do it better. Maul gets a lot better at restraining his murderous urges. Turns out, if you immediately kill everyone who annoys you, it’s hard to ask them for advice after. The other person Maul gets pointers from is C3PO, the protocol droid the kid dragged along. Maul understands 3PO better than he understands Shmi and Anakin. 3PO is a droid. Maul was raised by a droid. Maul knows how to talk with 3PO, whereas talking with Shmi or Anakin feels like wandering around in a fog full of landmines.
So anyway, Maul and 3PO become unlikely friends, and, as Maul, determined to out-parent Sidious in every conceivable way, learns more and more social skills, emotional intelligence, and interpersonal skills, he truly comprehends how fucked up his own childhood was. There’s rage. There’s grief. There’s murderous desire for vengeance. But there’s also Anakin. Who would be scared if Maul smashed the ship or killed random people to vent his anger. Anakin, who needs something called a “positive role model”, who needs to be taught how to use the Force, and who needs the adults around him to have their shit together. There’s also Shmi, who makes him soup and hot chocolate when he’s feeling bad, and tells him off for breaking things, and who helps him get better at being a real person, and who doesn’t seem to want anything from him other than a general expectation of not hurting her or her son. So Maul deals. He grows. He heals, slowly. There’s setbacks, and gains. And somewhere in there, he starts teaching Anakin how to use the Force.
The problem is, Maul learned to access the Force first through fear and anger. Turns out, it’s really hard to teach someone fundamentals of force usage via fear and anger without first having to traumatize them. So right away, Maul hits a barrier. He doesn’t have any clue how to teach Anakin a different way though. He needs help.
But also, FUCK the jedi. NO WAY is Maul asking the Jedi for help, he hates the Jedi. Maul is still a Sith, he’s just a new, better kind of Sith, the kind that trains apprentices who are gonna kick WAY MORE ASS and be HEALTHY WELL-ADJUSTED PEOPLE while doing it (let him dream, ok?). So Maul starts hauling Shmi and Anakin around the galaxy, seeking out any non-Jedi Force-users they can, to learn Force techniques that the Sith didn’t teach Maul.
They spend time with the Guardians on Jedha, with those weird duck-people from that one episode with Jar-Jar’s girlfriend, with some wacky monks on a tiny island in the ass-end of nowhere, and even some time with a long-lost sith cult in a box system in the middle of the Unknown Regions. Maul learns. Anakin learns. Maul uses what he learns from the other force-users, combines it with what he knows, and teaches Anakin even more. The Jedi and the Sith are really the only two groups who really use the force for Big Impressive Things, like telekinesis and lightning and whatnot, so while the other force groups would have a lot to teach them both, they wouldn’t really be able to teach Anakin how to levitate something. And you can’t be the kick-assiest, bestest Sith Apprentice Ever if you can’t levitate shit. So Maul takes takes all these new techniques, like “being calm and chill when you meditate instead of super pissed off” and “using the Force while not being filled with incredible rage” and “mindfulness techniques” and “who knew you could do cool stuff like floating rocks without having to exhaust yourself by hating everything in existence, including yourself” and applies them to the skills and methods he already has. He and Anakin have to do a lot of fumbling and exploring and mistake-making, but they figure it out. And Anakin learns. And he kicks ass.
When Anakin is 11, Maul hauls him off to Ach-To to dig a crystal out of the roots of an ancient tree. He tells Anakin to hold it and meditate, to let his emotions rise around him, to feed them, to pull them through the crystal, let it resonate, let it take on the shape of his strongest feelings. After all, that is how Maul was trained to bleed his crystals. Maul’s pain and fear and anger yielded him red crystals.
Anakin comes out with yellow. Determination, fierce protectiveness, drive, hunger for justice, righteous fury. That is Anakin’s lightsaber.
Anakin grows up, planet-hopping with his Mom and Uncle Maul in a beat-up freighter with under-the-hood enhancements out the ass (Maul ditched the Scimitar right after Tatooine so his master couldn’t instantly track him down, and Maul and Anakin are both huge mechanics nerds and bond over things like “but what if you put ANOTHER PLASMA CORE IN THE ENGINE”, so this ship is, uh, certainly some sort of thing). Anakin grows up learning a hundred different Force traditions- just about every major Force tradition in the Galaxy (except for Jedi), and more than a few obscure ones. He grows up, tinkering with his droid, learning Juyo from Maul and how to sew a button from his mom. He grows up, beholden to two destinies only: “Help me take down Sidious, because he’s an asshole and a shitty Sith Lord” and “do whatever the fuck you want, because you are a Sith and no one gets to tell you what to do” (”except me.” Shmi interrupts. “Sith Lords still have a bedtime.” “Sith Lords still have a bedtime,” Maul amends, having no desire to repeat what happened when he encouraged a ten-year-old Anakin to ignore all the rules on purpose).
And what Anakin wants to do is what he’s always wanted to do- go back to Tatooine and free the slaves. Maul thinks that a big project like that would be an excellent learning opportunity for Anakin. He also wants Anakin to succeed, so he sits him down and talks logistics. How do you free the slaves without hundreds of slave owners detonating their chips when they hear what is happening? How do you keep them free once you do that? How do you get them jobs, clothes, food, houses? What about the ones who want to leave Tatooine? What about the ones who want to stay? And what about the economic upheaval that will happen when you deprive a whole planet of its cheapest source of labor? When Anakin is fourteen, they start planning.
When Anakin is eighteen, they make their move. Anakin, coordinating with Shmi, who returned to Tatooine three years earlier to organize things on the ground (living with a woman named Beru Whitesun, who is a gateway to the Freedom Path network), activates several massive orbital EMP devices, frying every electrical device on the planet, including slave chips. (The EMPs came from a pirate friend of his mom’s, who seems to do whatever she wants as long as she makes him hot chocolate). All over the planet, lights go out, slave chips fry, and radios go silent. And Shmi’s agents get to work. Ordinary citizens all over tatooine grab their rifles and head out. They meet up with others in their settlement, and the teams sweep the area, following a plan devised by Skywalker and Whitesun. They systematically visit every house in every settlement, city, spaceport, and town that is known to house slaves, and tell the slaves to grab their families and most treasured possessions and follow them.
(Tatooine is a sparsely populated planet- you can count the major settlements on two hands. If it weren’t, this would never have worked.)
Not many slaveowners put up much of a resistance- fifty angry masked people pointing guns in your face tend to make you compliant. The only slaveowner who puts up more than a token resistance is Jabba the Hutt. His resistance, however, lasts about thirty seconds, before Anakin cuts off his head.
Maul meets Anakin at Jabba’s palace, where he’s rounding up the last of Jabba’s cronies. 
“No trouble?” Maul asks.
“Nope,” Anakin replies. “You?”
“None.” Maul said. Turns out, it’s like, super easy to take down an entire criminal organization when you can turn up to a meeting of the Hutt family heads, kill them all, and waltz out past all their security forces without breaking a sweat. (Seriously, it’s kind of hilarious how Maul is literally just that good). 
“The slaves here are freed?”
“Yep,” says Anakin. Then frowns. “Hold on...” He senses a presence. Big, hulking, simple, and starving. He can sense that, whatever it is, it hasn’t seen the sunlight or been able to move freely in years. 
So anyway, that’s how Anakin turns up at Mos Espa at first sunrise, riding on the back of Jabba the Hutt’s pet rancor. “Who’s a good girl,” Anakin says, scratching behind her ear nubs. “You are!” And she is a good girl. Padme (”I just think it sounds like a nice name, you know?”) is very good at dispersing angry slaveowners who look like they might start rioting. 
The slaves freed overnight have been gathered together at pre-designated safe zones-mostly warehouses or large buildings that Shmi has been buying up over the years for exactly this purpose.
(The slaves living in remote settlements, at moisture farms and homesteads, didn’t get a visit from the freedom teams. However, Shmi had a plan for them too. She has made overtures to the Tusken tribes. Once she managed to negotiate her way into speaking to one of the leaders without getting killed, she sold them a story, a dream. A revolution. Free the slaves. Transform Tatooine. She doesn’t promise the Tuskens to expel humans from the planet entirely. She promises them equal rights under the law (she also promises the existence of laws in the first place). She promises them the right to raise Banthas, the right to traverse their ancestral lands and the return of sacred sites taken from them, the right to trade, the right to control who passes over their lands. She promises them the right to water and shade. And, she promises them half the seats on the ruling council she plans to set up. And so, on the night the EMPs blow, Tusken raiders visit every homestead on Tatooine (again, there’s only a few hundred, a thousand at most), and kidnap the slaves. Perhaps not the most reassuring experience for enslaved peoples who have been taught their entire lives to fear the Tuskens, and not without reason, but, nevertheless, it is freedom).
As the new day dawns- Tatooine’s first dawn as a free planet- Anakin, Maul, and Shmi know that the easy part is over. Now, they have to house tens of thousands of people currently cooped up in warehouses with nothing but the clothes on their backs. They have to establish and keep iron-tight control over the planet and its settlements, and quash any violent reprisals before they gain momentum. They also have to completely rebuild an economy completely upended by the overnight emancipation. 
However, Shmi’s not the only one who’s been busy for the past few years. While Shmi was on Tatooine, planning a revolution, Anakin and Maul were traversing the galaxy, gathering resources, using the Patented Maul Method (TM)- breaking into the headquarters of powerful organizations and threatening to kill everybody in charge unless they did what they said.
As the second sun rises, ships begin arriving in Tatooine’s orbit. Pop-up housing is dropped onto the outskirts of Tattooine’s settlements, the kind that mining companies use to set up new bases on mineral-rich asteroids. The accommodations are small and sparse, but each family has a kitchen, bathroom, beds, and private space. Huge generators are hooked up to cool the new housing. Anakin knows that the already-existing slave quarters, made of stone with no windows and mostly underground- are already built to keep the occupants cool, but he refuses to make the former slave population live in slave quarters. Some of the freed people are moved into Jabba’s old palace, some into buildings abandoned by rich business owners who fled the planet when they saw what was happening. Food, water, medicine, clothes, books, toys, tools, and shoes are deposited. (the Republic’s equivalent of the FBI had been utterly baffled when Galaxy’s three biggest criminal organizations started moving cargo that looked less like a drug trade and more like a disaster relief mission). 
Anakin walks among the newly freed slaves, reassuring them- yes, you are free. Yes, you will be fed and housed and clothed as long as you need it. Yes, we will try to find your child/husband/wife/mother who was sold years ago. Yes, you can go home, you can do whatever you want.
He also asks for volunteers. And he gets them. Hardly anyone would say no to the chance to work with the Skywalker, who once was a slave like them, but freed himself and returned, who freed the slaves in one night of glory, and appeared at sunrise riding a rancor.
Anakin sends out messengers, all across the planet. “Tatooine is a free world,” they say. “All slaves are hereby freed, by order of the He who Walks in the Sky. Any slaveowners who, by their own free will, turn over their detonators will not be harmed. Any who resist, will be.” Not many resist.
At the end of that first day, as the suns are setting, once the freed peoples of Tatooine are fed, and given water, and sheltered, Maul comes to Anakin.
“I am proud of you.” He says. “You have come into your power, you have mastered yourself, and so have mastered the Force. You have the freedom and the power to do anything you choose. You are no longer my apprentice. Lord Skywalker, you are a true Sith Master.” Anakin pulls him into a hug. He maybe cries a little bit. Maul maybe cries a little bit. Maul maybe also feels mildly annoyed that Anakin is a full head taller than him now.
(Sidious would be truly, utterly offended at Maul’s criteria for Sith-Lord-ness. “THAT’S NOT SITH” he would have said. “THAT’S BARELY EVEN DARK SIDE ADJACENT, YOU ARE DILUTING OUR THOUSAND YEAR HERITAGE-” but Maul wouldn’t care about Sidious’ stupid opinions, anyway).
And Anakin and Shmi get to work. They employ the newly freed people of Tatooine, constructing permanent houses, tearing down slave markets, building critical infrastructure. Anakin pays them more than a living wage, thanks to the extremely deep pockets of Crimson Dawn. He brings in doctors and teachers, and guarantees healthcare and education for all who want it (whenever one of Crimson Dawn’s higher-ups says “wait, why are we dumping massive amounts of money into this one random-ass planet?” Darth Maul just casually sidles up behind them with his lightsaber until they remember that he can literally just show up anywhere, at anytime, and kill them unless they do what he says. If Maul’s busy, he sends 3PO instead- 3PO’s been outfitted with about ten times as much weaponry as is legal, and can be very convincing when he wants to be).
While Anakin works on infrastructure and supporting the freed peoples of Tatooine, and unfucking the economic trainwreck they caused, Shmi and Beru work on the government. They write down a few, very basic rules-Tatooine is to be ruled by a council of people, half of whom will come from the Tusken tribes, all of which shall be selected by fair and free election. All citizens of Tatooine shall have the right to vote in these elections, and the right to vote shall be guaranteed to all- except for those who have ever owned or sold a sentient being. (it was a huge debate in the Lars-Whitesun-Skywalker household, this matter of restricting voting rights. In the end, it was decided that slaveowners, and ONLY slaveowners, were to be the sole exception for universal suffrage). Every citizen of Tatooine is guaranteed access to food, medicine, and water, and has the right to have their grievances addressed by the council.
Shmi works quickly to gather her council- she knows she has to do it fast, to prove to the Tuskens that she is as good as her word. The first elections are chaotic, and perhaps not completely non-violent, but in the end, there is a council of twenty representatives, with Shmi Skywalker representing Mos Espa.
The Council proceeds to have raging- and occasionally violent- debates about the structure of their future government. What rights to guarantee citizens. Should they have a court system? What about a financial system? How are they to guarantee water, food, and medicine to everyone? What even are taxes?
The Rebuilding of Tatooine is long, and hard, and contentious. There are arguments and rage and fighting- the repatriation of traditional Tusken lands is especially fraught. But Shmi promised, and so she makes it happen (Anakin and Padme may have helped too). Maul, for his part, keeps training Anakin, and keeps managing the criminal underworld with a careful balance of death threats and actual death, but mostly stays out of the way of Anakin’s Senior Project. 
Soon, Anakin is able to re-purpose the pop-up housing, since most people have moved into traditional Tatooine-built homes, suited to the environment. The newly restructured economy is tentatively taking its first steps, and Tatooine’s baby government is becoming less and less dependent on intergalactic criminal funding (partially thanks to Anakin confiscating the entirety of Jabba’s personal fortune). He spends a lot of time in Council meetings, trying not to scream at people while also trying to stop Padme from eating them. The Council debates what is next for Tatooine, and eventually, they vote to petition the Republic for membership. Tatooinians, as a people, including the Tuskens, are fiercely independant, but, as Shmi points out, joining the Republic would guarantee them to certain things like humanitarian aid, a voice in decisions affecting interplanetary trade routes and taxation, legal legitimacy and the right to call on the Republic for aid should their sovereignty ever be threatened. Most importantly, slavery is illegal on all Republic planets, which means that if any slave-owning organizations ever pushed in on Tatooine, there would be another (much better funded) organization to call on to help quash it. 
The Republic requires that a petitioning planet’s head of state visit the Senate on Coruscant to ask the Senate for entry into the Republic. The Council, grumbling, re-jiggers their constitution to allow for a “chief councilor”, and promptly elect Anakin to the position (”Fuck me,”) Anakin says. Maul laughs at him, then sobers and tells him to be careful on Coruscant (”My former master lives there.” he says. “Mind your shields, and do not let him know your true nature. You are not yet ready to take him on, and you have your planet and your people to think of.” “Yes, Uncle Maul.” Anakin says. “I will be careful.”).
Anakin shows up in the Galactic Senate, sandy robes, uncombed hair, and half smirk on his face. “I am Anakin Skywalker, free person of Tatooine,” he says. He presents the case for Tatooine’s admittance to the Republic in a booming, confident voice, drawing on his inner strength- his righteous anger and determination to ensure his people’s future- to keep his voice from wavering.
There are grumbles. Muttering. No Senator wants to be the one to blatantly say “no”- it’s a sort of miracle story, Tatooine, the little planet that rose up and threw of the shackles of slavery and now wants to join the Republic- the exact sort of mythos that the Republic itself is built on. It’s bad PR to vote against that little planet. But at the same time, Tatooine is a sandy, useless dustball that’ll need fiscal support from the Senate, with nothing to offer in terms of economic value. Many Senators are debating with themselves, not whether or not to say “no”, but how to vote “no” without losing ten points in approval ratings.
Until the Senator from Naboo, a diminutive woman who somehow reminds Anakin of his rancor, stands up. She gives an impassioned, off-the-cuff speech, reminding the Senate of how her own planet had thrown off the shackles of oppression not ten years ago, how the Republic was founded by planets like Tatooine, and how, most importantly, they had no legal basis to deny them entry, and if the Senate voted no, Naboo’s lawyers would litigate the issue six ways from taungsday- which, due to a clause in the Senate’s constitution that forbade them from passing legislation while the issue of a planet’s admittance to the Republic was on the floor, would effectively paralyze the Senate until the courts made a ruling. And, as Padme made sure to emphasize, if the court’s decision was not favorable, she would appeal. She could feasibly stop the Senate from doing anything for years, if necessary.
Tatooine is admitted to the Republic.
“Two Senators,” Anakin demands. “In order for my people to be fairly represented, my planet requires two Senators.” When complaints are made, Jar-Jar Binks threatens to explain the complicated dynamics of a planet attempting to grapple with a colonial past. He doesn’t have to. Tatooine gets its two Senators.
Anakin meets with Senator Amidala in her office, to thank her.
“Of course,” she said. “I remember a little boy who helped free my planet- how could I not help you when you needed it?”
“Uhh, thanks, yeah, that’s, really nice of you. Like your hair. Which is nice. In an objective sort of way,” Anakin says, because there is no universe in which Anakin is not a complete idiot in front of Padme. “I named my rancor after you,” he blurts.
Before Anakin is scheduled to leave Coruscant, the Jedi send a knight to scope out the new planetary leader. Obi-Wan Kenobi shows up at Anakin’s hotel room, and goes “Oh. It’s.... you.” 
“Obi-Wan!” Anakin grins. He only knew him for about two days when he was nine, but he still greets him like an old friend, like a brother. They fall into easy, teasing conversation. “I thought you were dead, I confess, after you disappeared from Naboo,” Obi-Wan admits. “I am truly sorry that I was unable to fulfill Qui-Gon’s promise to train you as a Jedi Knight.”
“That’s ok,” Anakin waves his hand dismissively. “I got trained as a Sith instead.” Then he freezes. Oops. He was not supposed to say that. Maul would be so disappointed in him.
“Beg pardon?” Obi-Wan says.
“I, uhh, got trained, as a, uh, sift...er? Instead? A sand sifter? I sift sand for a living?”
“You said Sith.”
“No I didn’t, I definitely said sift.”
“No, you said Sith.”
“I definitely did not.”
Anakin changes the subject, and Obi-Wan lets it drop. He’ll tell the Council, of course, but he honestly cannot fathom the concept of this kid being a Sith. He senses nothing Dark about him- well, at least no more dark than is present in any sentient. Besides, it’s not like there are any Sith Lords around anymore, ever since he killed Maul (luckily, Obi-Wan doesn’t see the picture in Anakin’s wallet, a candid shot 3PO took in the cockpit of their family’s ship. Fifteen-year-old Anakin, at the controls, hyperbrake still on with his hands on the hyperdrive lever, Maul, standing behind him, hands gripping Anakin’s seat and face distorted half-way through a panic-induced rant about flight safety, and Shmi, sitting in the co-pilot’s seat, laughter on her face and knitting needles in her hands).
Anakin contacts his mother, tells her the good news. The Council, moving with alacrity, elects Tatooine’s first Senators. And four days later, one year after the Dawn of Freedom, Senator Shmi Skywalker and Senator Ooutrigh (a Tusken warrior) of Tatooine arrive on Coruscant and address the Senate for the first time. 
Of course, while Anakin has been growing up, planning for Tatooine’s future, and annoying the shit out of Maul, Palpatine’s own plans have continued apace. Barely four months after Tatooine is admitted to the Republic, Obi-Wan finds himself in an arena on Geonosis. The battle goes much differently this time, partially due to the fact that Anakin has retrofitted the cargo bay of his family’s ship to house Padme (the rancor, not the Senator), and descends onto the Arena sands just as Yoda and the Clone Troops arrive, and deposits both Padme’s (the rancor, and the Senator) into the melee. 
“Hi, Obi-Wan!” Anakin calls, whipping out his lightsaber to deflect the hail of blaster bolts (Maul would disapprove, but Maul isn’t here, he’s ten clicks away, chasing down the Jedi dropout Sidious replaced him with). 
“Anakin, what the FUCK” Obi-Wan says, staring at Chief Councilor Anakin Skywalker of Tatooine, riding a rancor and swinging an honest-to-Force yellow lightsaber. 
“Master Yoda, what the FUCK” Anakin says, later, after the battle is over, when he finally gets Yoda to answer his questions about the clone troopers. “You found out about an entire-ass army of slave child soldiers commissioned AND PAID FOR by one of your own council members, and your reaction is ‘oh thank goodness, now we have an army?’ What the FUCK is WRONG with you?!” Yoda tries to explain to Councilor Skywalker that the situation was dire, they’d had no choice, but Councilor Skywalker just keeps repeating “AN ARMY OF SLAVE CHILD SOLDIERS” at him. “No choice, we had,” Yoda says yet again.
“BULLSHIT, you had no choice!” Anakin yells. “You could have chosen to not use the entire army of slave child soldiers that you legally own!”
“Let Kenobi and the others die, you would have? Hmm?”
“PROBABLY, YEAH!” Anakin hollers (”Thanks,” mutters Obi-Wan). “Sometimes the choices you have all really suck, but you still have to make them! You can’t just pretend you didn’t have any options, you HAD OPTIONS, and you chose the one that involved using a SLAVE ARMY OF CHILD SOLDIERS.” He gestures behind him to the battlefield, where clone troopers and medics are moving amongst the bodies, white and red stark against the sand, tallying their dead brothers.
Yoda shakes his head. “emotional, you are, young Skywalker.” he said. “Cloud your judgement, your feelings do.” 
“Yeah, I’m fucking emotional!” Anakin practically screams. “I have personal beef with slavery, so excuse me if I feel emotions about it. Your problem is that you’re able to use an ARMY OF SLAVE CHILD SOLDIERS and not feel bad about it! Your lack of emotions is clouding YOUR judgement!” He stomps off. Yoda shakes his head. Skywalker is young, and too close to the issue of slavery to really have perspective on it. He does not understand. It was a great loss to the Jedi Order when the Council rejected him, all those years ago- if he had been trained as a Jedi, he would have learned to put aside his emotions about slavery, and he would have understood why it was necessary now. If Anakin could have heard what Yoda was thinking, he would have turned right back around, picked Yoda up, and punted him like a limmie ball.
Anakin and Maul return to Tatooine. Maul offers to assassinate the entire Jedi Council, but Anakin says no. He’s still fuming about his conversation with Yoda. He knows he gets emotional. He knows that Yoda isn’t entirely wrong- he knows he lets his emotions cloud his judgement sometimes. It’s something he’s worked hard on, over the years, him and Maul. How to take a step back from the emotions howling in your head, and how to view the situation without them getting in the way. And what kinds of situations you should let your emotions guide you. Anakin thinks he’s damn well entitled to strong emotions about slavery. 
Short of declaring war on the entire Jedi Order, Anakin doesn’t know what to do about the Republic’s slave army. The Tatooine Council releases a public condemnation of it, explicitly calling it slavery and calling for the clones to be freed. The Council seriously debates joining the Separatists, until Padme (the Senator, not the Rancor) and Shmi look in-depth at the Separatist Council, which is buried deep in the pockets of corporate interests. Shmi files a lawsuit, under the Republic’s anti-slavery legislation, suing for the freedom of the clones. It’s a battle of miserable inches, and meanwhile, the war rages.
With Dooku gone, Sidious’s only means of controlling the Separatists is through Grievous and Ventress, both of whom are loose cannons whose loyalty (and competence) he seriously doubts. It’s frustrating for him, and not necessarily better for the Jedi and their army (of slave child soldiers). Sidious needs to keep the war in careful balance, neither side gaining too much ground, to draw it out and grind the Jedi down and manipulate their public image until he can heap all the blame on them. Without Dooku to pass down his orders, he has no way of keeping a firm check on the Separatist Council, and the Seps are in serious danger of completely overrunning the Republic. The droid army is fifty times as many as the clones, and the Separatists have the Trade Federation, the Banking Clans, and all of the major military tech corporations on their side. Honestly, it’s a testament to the Jedi and the Clone Army that they haven’t lost the war in the first month.
Speaking of that first month, Anakin doesn’t spend long on uninvolved in the war. Scant weeks after Geonosis, the Separatist Army threatens to roll right over Tatooine on their way to gaining control of the Outer Rim Hyperlanes. Tatooine has no army, doesn’t even have a police force. It has no fleet, no orbital defenses, and the droid army headed their way has ten times more droids than there are guns on the planet. The Council faces a choice. Ask the Republic to send in the GAR to defend them- ask for an army of slaves to be sent to die on Tatooine, to stain the sand with enslaved blood so soon after Tatooine clawed her way to freedom, or do nothing, and almost certainly ensure the annihilation of Tatooine and her people. To die, or to live by the blood of slaves who died for you. It’s not a pretty choice.
In the end, the choice is taken away from them (and perhaps it’s a kindness, that they weren’t forced to choose, perhaps it’s the coward’s way out, but it is what it is). A GAR cruiser shows up in orbit, and the Council is hailed by a man identifying himself as Captain Rex, commanding officer of the 501st legion of the GAR.
“The Republic sent you here?” Anakin asks, incredulously. 
“Well, not exactly.” Captain Rex hedges. “The 501st is due for leave on Kamino, but the hyperdrive was making funny noises, so we decided to stop off in the nearest Republic system to check it out.” Rex shrugs. “If a bunch of tinnies just so happen to show up, it’s not like we’ll just sit back and watch.”
“Why are you doing this?” Anakin asks the clone captain, once they’ve got him on planet and in the council room. He’s got a lump in his throat, and his eyes are stinging. The 501st has no Jedi on board, no natborn officers, and no orders to go to Tatooine. Rex and the 501st showed up here of their own free will. Because they wanted to. To defend Tatooine.
“Geonosis.” Rex says. “On Geonosis, you saved the lives of over two hundred of us. Including me. We couldn’t stand by and let your planet fall to the Separatists, Councilor Skywalker.”
After the battle, during the cleanup, when Tatooinians are passing through the rows of injured, giving out water- giving out life- Rex tells Anakin the other reason.
“We all know about Tatooine, sir.” He says, quietly. “A bunch of slaves who stood up and said “no,” and took their freedom.” He shrugs. “Stories like that, it gives us hope. For the future.” He fixes Anakin with a stare. “If we let that hope die, we die too. Tatooine cannot fall.”
That is the first time Anakin and Rex fight together. Somehow, when the 501st leaves Tatooine, Anakin goes with them- officially, as a consultant/observer, appointed at the request of Senator Skywalker to observe the GAR and monitor the health and wellbeing of the troopers. Unofficially, Anakin and Rex become a lethal team, making the 501st one of the most effective legions in the Galaxy. Anakin isn’t dumb. He knows he’s being a massive hypocrite, running around with an army of slave child soldiers. Rex, however, insists that it’s different.
“First of all, we asked you to come with us.” he says. “Second of all, it’s not like you staying behind would have made any difference in our situation. And besides, scrapping clankers isn’t the only reason I asked you to come with us.” Anakin raises an eyebrow.
And Rex introduces Anakin to his older brother, Cody, commander of the 212th (Anakin is happy to see Obi-Wan again, but appalled to meet Obi-Wan’s fourteen-year-old togruta padawan, because why would you put a CHILD in a warzone, in a COMMAND POSITION). And Cody brings Anakin in on The Plan. The clones will not remain slaves forever, and they will not wait for some elusive promise of gratitude after the war is over. They will take their freedom, and they will defend their own, and they’re asking Anakin, who freed the slaves of Tatooine, to help them do it. 
“So basically, you want me on as a consultant.”
“Basically, yeah.” Cody says. “And also as a guy with a lightsaber who can leap fifty feet into the air and dodge blaster bolts. Those are always handy to have around.”
So Anakin and Rex and Cody, and Cody’s small circle of commanders, lay their plans. And in the meantime, there’s a war to fight. Shmi’s still on Tatooine, but Maul comes with Anakin and the 501st. He and Rex get along like a house on fire, but you wouldn’t know it from watching them- they do nothing but argue and needle each other. Rex sarcastically calls Maul “Commander Maul” because it pisses him off so much, and it catches on with the whole legion. Maul constantly mutters about murdering and/or poisoning Rex.
But after Ventress almost chokes Rex to death, and breaks into his mind to make him do her bidding, Maul doesn’t leave Rex alone for a week, and clutches his hand tightly in the medbay. Rex doesn’t mention it, so neither does Anakin. 
Padme, on the other hand, makes no secret of how much she loves Rex (the Rancor, not the Senator, though she likes him too). Padme seems to have concluded that Rex is some sort of long-lost hatchling, and can be seen chasing Rex down the hangar bay, trying to corral him into the nest she’s constructed in the corner reserved for her. Rex gets used to surprise cuddles from a massive predator.
The Jedi Council are at their wit’s end with Skywalker, but their hands are full and honestly, he’s a benefit to the war effort, so they assign Obi-Wan to “supervise” the legion, and leave them to it. Obi-Wan and Anakin strike up a deep friendship, unfettered by the baggage that comes with being master and padawan. Obi-Wan finds himself having serious questions about the Jedi’s role in the war, since Anakin is not at all shy about challenging him on the whole “slave army of child soldiers” thing. Obi-Wan is also, quite frankly, too busy to effectively teach a padawan, and by this point, he knows that Anakin’s had some sort of Force training. He’s fought beside him enough to be confident in his skills, and often sends Ahsoka on extended missions with the 501st, and explicitly begs Anakin to help him fill in the gaps in her training. Anakin obliges enthusiastically. 
Of course, Maul helps train her too. Obi-Wan shows up on the Resolute one day to pick her up, and asks how her training’s going. 
“Great!” She says. “Skyguy’s weird uncle is teaching me jar’kai-”
“Anakin has an uncle?” Obi-Wan asks, surprised. “Who knows jar’kai?”
And so Obi-Wan and Maul meet once again. And Obi-Wan is just absolutely pole-axed. 
“Darth Maul?” He splutters. “Is your uncle?” 
“Not biologically,” Anakin shrugs. “He practically raised me, along with my mom. He taught me everything I know about lightsabers and the Force.”
“...”
“...you did say Sith, Anakin, you bastard, sand-sifting MY ASS-”
“Oh, it’s you.” Maul says. “I won’t kill you, but only because Anakin likes you.” Obi-Wan throws up his hands.
Somehow, Obi-Wan and Maul come to an understanding. Somehow, Obi-Wan doesn’t turn him over to the council. 
At one point, a giant of a zabrak, easily eight feet tall, with skin a poisonous yellow, shows up, claiming that Maul is his brother, and that he’s here to bring him home to Dathomir. Maul takes one look at Savage and goes “Fuck that”. “I will train you in the ways of the Force,” he says. “I can show you power like you’ve never wielded before.” he says. “You shall be a great and feared Sith Lord,” he says. “Have some hot chocolate, you look cold,” he says. “Put on a sweater.” Savage, slightly bemused, comes to terms with the fact that he’s just been adopted.
It’s Maul who figures it out, of course. How could he not? He was raised by Sidious. He knows how devious he is, how his plans have layers upon layers, backups upon backups, contingencies stacked from here to the Outer Rim. Once Sidious moves, you can be sure that any reasonable outcome will be in his favor, because he has completely engineered the situation before you were even aware it existed.
The Sith caused the war and are playing both sides. The Sith caused the clones to be commissioned (these things are trivially easy to figure out, if you’re paying attention). The Sith want the Jedi dead.
“Contingencies,” Maul mutters. “It’s always a trap, and there’s always contingencies.”
When he finds the chip in Rex’s head, he shakes with rage and refuses to talk to anyone, fearing, for the first time in years, that he will lose control and hurt someone he loves. It is Rex who talks him down, who manages to get close to him, who embraces him and lets him cry on his shoulder, then scream and rage and punch the walls. When Maul is able to explain, Rex has to choke back his own terrified, horrified sobs. He holds them back, and calmly looks at Maul and says “What are you going to do about it?”
The surgery, they discover, is simple enough. An astromech can do it in two minutes (C2PO can do it in seventy seconds, and Artoo can’t stand it). When Anakin is told, he goes quiet for a minute, and when he looks back up, it is not Anakin, Rex’s friend, Maul’s kid, who is sitting at the table in the briefing room. It is He Who Walks in the Sky, Huttslayer, Breaker of Chains, who looks back at them. Anakin Skywalker has always wanted nothing more than to free all the slaves. And Anakin Skywalker’s destiny has always been to do what he wanted.
They tell Cody. They modify their plans. They quietly contact medics throughout the GAR, and Artoo quietly sends the details to every military astromech he trusts. When the army is safe from Sidious’ control, Anakin, Rex, and Maul conspire to lure him off of Coruscant. Maul takes over Mandalore, exiling the duchess and announcing a New Sith Empire. Sidious shows up, declaring that Maul has become a rival, disowning his former apprentice and attacking him, with intent to kill. Savage loses an arm. Maul almost loses his life. But as he lies on the ground at Sidious’s feet, arms trembling with the effort of holding the parry keeping Sidious’ saber from his throat, he hears “We’ve got the face shot! Go, go go!” in his earpiece. Gunfire, real slugthrowers, difficult to block with a saber, erupts around him. C3PO and his arsenal, along with Fives, Jesse, and Echo, the 501st’s best ARC troopers, open fire on Sidious. The Sith is forced to back away, raising a hand to stop the bullets in midair. Maul leaps to his feet, and Anakin joins him, lightsaber drawn. 
The fight is quick, but brutal. Maul’s hands threaten to tremble with terror, facing down the horror of his childhood, the monster whose treatment of him is woven fundamentally into his psyche, whose shadow has haunted Maul all his life, and still invades his dreams. But he reaches out to his family, to Rex, beside him, steady, full of faith in him, to Anakin, a blazing sun of love and anger, a shield of raw power, and to Shmi, all the way in her Senate offices on Coruscant, cool and calm and soothing like a desert spring as ever-present as the stars. His hands do not tremble. He raises his lightsaber against his master, beside the blade of his son. Together, they beat the Sith Lord back. Anakin binds the Sith’s blade, knees him in the ribs, and while Sidious is thus occupied, Maul cuts his head off.
“You were a terrible parent,” he pants, and spits on the corpse. Then, he collapses, and Rex is there to catch him, and Maul clings to him and shakes, and cries. Anakin reaches out to put a hand on his shoulder, and Rex pulls him in with a look, and together, they surround Maul, a bulwark against the rest of the world, a safe circle for him to fall apart for a little bit. At some point, one of them unstraps the small camera that Maul had been wearing on his chest. Ahsoka has, at that point, already sent the footage to every major news office on Coruscant.
That evening, plastered all over the galactic news, is a video of the Chancellor himself, showing up on a neutral world and attacking its sovereign leader, wielding red lightsabers of all things. And it’s obviously the Chancellor; there’s a clear shot of his face when he knocks Mandalore’s ruler to the ground and the camera gets a good view right up into his hood.
It’s a massive scandal. One tabloid shows the footage with a little counter in the corner, counting up every treaty and galactic law that Palpatine violates onscreen. The only thing that saves Palpatine from impeachment and arrest is the fact that he’s already dead. Inquiries are launched, investigators are sanctioned, documents and hard drives and testimony are subpoena’ed. Padme (the Senator, not the Rancor), spearheads the investigative committee, and within a month, they’ve uncovered decades worth of bribes, backroom deals, contracts with droid manufacturers, clear evidence of Palpatine authorizing Republic funds for weaponry that went straight to the Separatists, and even communication records between the Chancellor and the two military leaders of the Separatists. Grievous and Ventress go into hiding (the Tales of Grievous and Ventress, unlikely buddies forced on an intergalactic road trip on the run from the cops, is a story for a different absurdly long post at 3am). The Separatists break down in chaos, and the war grinds to a halt. In the middle of all the political hurricane, Cody enacts his plan, and the entire GAR simultaneously deserts, and fucks directly off to Tatooine. This ignites another scandal, with Senators calling for Tatooine’s expulsion from the Republic. Shmi stands in her Senate Pod, hands tucked into her roughspun sleeves, listening attentively while Senator Burtoni of Kamino accuses her of theft.
“If Tatooine does not return the stolen military assets, the Senate may sanction the use of force!” the Senator from Ryloth threatens.
“Pardon me,” Shmi says, “May I ask what army the Senate is planning sending to invade Tatooine? I was under the impression that the only Republic army was already there.” There’s a bit of an awkward silence.
In the middle of the shitstorm, before Shmi is arrested and Anakin declared an enemy of the state, Shmi’s lawsuit finally receives a ruling. And just like that, the clones are legally free. And the judge orders the Senate to pay reparations. Anakin cackles with glee when he hears. 
Rex and Cody, with the full support of the people of Tatooine, begin the long, hard, work of resettling their brothers and building a life for the vod’e. Shmi files a lawsuit against the Zygerrian Empire. Savage receives a new arm, courtesy of Anakin, who may or may not have added a few extra utilities to it. Ahsoka is knighted, and controversially invites Anakin to be present at the ceremony, along with Obi-Wan. Maul admits, very quietly and where only Rex can hear, that he doesn’t actually want to poison him. “I know,” Rex says, smiling at him. Anakin, meanwhile, finally marries Padme, the love of his life (the Senator, not the Rancor).
And in Mos Eisly, there is a stone slab, pulled from a crumbled wall and stuck upright in the ground in the middle of the square. No one knows who put it there, but someone carved fifty-seven names into the stone. The fifty-seven names of the clone troopers who died defending Tatooine from the Separatist army, at the beginning of the war. The last slaves to spill their blood on the sands of Tatooine.
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devilrainbunnie · 3 years
Text
._ anthurium pt 2 _.
tomura shigaraki x fem!reader
1/X/3
CW: anxiety trigger, manipulation, cheating, mentions of alcohol, mentions of depression and mental health (minors DNI)
a/n: I could not get the second part idea out of my head, I’m also going to try to write properly instead of doing all lowercase for practice. I’m used to doing lowercase but, whatever.
Tomura sprawled out over the black couch in his now empty, and lifeless apartment. His eyes were locked to the ceiling above him, though he was looking at nothing in particular. There was an unfamiliar feeling inside of his chest he had never felt before. Never in the mans life had he ever felt, or thought the way he did now. All his life he had done nothing but take, hate, use and abuse everything in this world-- so why couldn’t he stop feeling this heavy weight of regret within his body? Why did the corners of his eyes prick with hot, salty tears? Why couldn’t he stop thinking about you? In his mind, he blames you for this feeling. If you had just stayed, and let this continue, he wouldn’t feel like this. 
But deep down he knows, that this is all of his fault.
He hurt you, constantly. Because you had always been there, accepted him, and coddled him, he never expected you to go anywhere. No matter what he did, or no matter what he said to you. He had hurt you in the past, many times. You always stayed. That made him believe you were okay with everything, or that’s at least what he told himself to make what he did not as bad. He never saw you crying, he never saw you actually upset. He thought your sometimes pestering and anxious ways you tried to confront him were nothing but annoying, not that you were silently begging him to love you and see he was breaking you.��Or maybe he just didn’t want to see it. He didn’t even think about how it was affecting you. He was selfish, when all you were was selfless. You’d given everything to him, after Kurogiri was taken, you took care of him. Fed him, comforted him, made sure he was holding it together. Even before that, you tried to stop him from scratching at himself, you made sure he ate more than just take out, and junk food. You made sure he slept every night, showered every day. You helped him keep his things tidy. 
You gave him something he had never had; love. You gave up everything to be with him, and you made sure to always put him above yourself, even when you shouldn’t have. He realized up until recently that he made the biggest mistake he would ever make. He lost the one person who would’ve dropped everything for him, for someone who was nothing but a good fuck. Someone who was manipulating him, someone who quite literally used their quirk to make him believe what he was feeling was genuine. 
Tomura hated himself for it, he felt like a fucking garbage can. He lost his everything. He lost his love, his life, his happiness... all for some sex, and higher ranks. 
He tried a couple times to release his pent up emotions by turning to the girl, but he felt sick any time he put his hands on her. Everything came crashing down to him, and it didn’t exactly happen immediately. The first time it hit him, is when Dabi tried to kill him. 
...
The day after you left, Tomura was furious with you. Believing you had betrayed him, deceived him, and that he was going to unleash hell the next time he laid eyes on you. He slammed doors all night long after he found your note, drinking some sake and staying up until the sun rose. That morning he had a meeting, he got ready and wore his usual new outfit, a fancy black suit, with a long black trench coat and fur lined at the hood. Something you had actually helped him pick out, even though he whined about it being itchy against his face and neck constantly. He preferred his big hoodies, skinny jeans and converse, but now that he was a leader of such a professional group-- he was expected to look the part.
He adjusted himself in the mirror, putting on the singular artist glove, and flattening out the wrinkles in his suit. In all honesty, he just wanted to go to bed, and sleep away this angered feeling but he decided against it. Tomura needed to be professional.
He stepped out of the apartment, his hands in the pockets of the thick trench coat. A migraine beginning to settle into his head at the bright lights of the building. His eyes squinting, and blinking rapidly to adjust. He mindlessly strolled over to the elevator, and waited until the doors opened. Staring at his fancy black dress shoes, thinking to himself how stupid this all was. Soon the elevator arrived, and he stepped inside. It was empty, just how he preferred it, leaning his head back against the cold metal framing of the cart as it went upwards to the room he planned to have the meeting. 
Soon he arrived on the floor, stepping out of the metal box, and walking into the large room the meeting was meant to take place. As soon as he opened the door, all eyes were on him. He walked to take his place to speak, when he heard a familiar raspy voice make a comment towards him. Tomura, having absolutely no patience for his shit, decided to speak out. “Is there a problem, crispy?” he sneered, taking his seat on the couch, scooting himself in to get comfortable.
“Yeah, there is a big fucking problem. Not that you would give a shit though, fucking prick.” 
“Excuse me?!” Tomura snapped, sitting up to look at Dabi standing in front of him.
“You fucking heard me you nasty street rat. We have a fucking problem, and you’re lucky we’re inside because I wouldn’t hesitate to torch you alive right now.”
“What crawled up your ass and died?” he scoffed.
“Y/n. You fucking pushed her away. Y/n could be dead right now for all we know and it’s all your fault, because you just had to be selfish and fuck someone who is quite literally using you.” Dabi snapped, a little bit of blue shining from the insides of his closed fists. He was seething with rage, the tension in the room was so thick, you could cut it with a knife.
“She left on her own accord dumbass. If you’re so concerned with her, then go find her yourself. Stop talking about her. I don’t have time for this shit. I did nothing--”
“That’s the thing crusty, you did. You fucking cheated on her, pushed her away, made her cry, and treated her like shit. Do you know how many times I had to see that poor girl looking like she was barely hanging on by a thread?” He sneered, Tomura rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Don’t fucking act like you did nothing wrong. All of us tried to talk to you about cheating on her because we never saw Y/n and when we did, she looked fucking hollow. I don’t know how many times Twice or Spinner tried to talk to you about it, and you’d shut the door in their faces.”
“As I said, she left on her own accord! Quit talking about this--”
“He’s right, Tomura-kun. You need to take responsibility for this, she left because of you. She didn’t just abandon you, you pushed her to her limits and she left because she felt like she was no longer wanted by you. Why can’t you just take responsibility? I thought you were better than this Tomura-kun.” Toga stepped in, his words hit her hard. Toga was like your little sister. She loved you the most out of anyone in the league besides Twice, any time she could, she was right at your hip. “I-I... I miss her so much.” Toga said quietly under her breath, feeling herself start to tear up.
“Fuck this!” Tomura said loudly, slamming his fists down against the couch, and standing to his feet. 
“You don’t get to just fucking walk away from this!” Dabi screamed at him, which was really the only time they ever heard him get upset. Dabi marched straight at Tomura, launching his fist straight to his face. Tomura grabbed his wrist with his gloved hand. They began to restrain one another before Dabi started slowly inching flames his way, and Tomura’s glove began to slip off intentionally. They were both pulled away separately. “I’m gonna kick your ass for this soon enough you grimy fuck! That girl was the only person in the league I actually enjoyed! Fuck you! I’ll fucking kill you!” Tomura realized how much he was acting like an older brother to you, and how truly sad everyone looked. You were part of their family, and he had made you leave. The rest of the day was a blur to him, he spent it drinking too much sake, playing games, and at some point crying. 
The next days, he was angry and couldn’t process his emotions without some alcohol in his system. After a while, it hit him way too hard, and sleeping at night was nearly impossible. The next weeks all he did was mope around, and hate himself. He didn’t do anything like he used to anymore, besides stuff with PLF, he just took it upon himself to waste his days away locked on the couch or bed.
...
Tomura rubbed his face with four fingers, turning to his side to stare out of the large window, watching the way the moon shined into the room. He imagined your silhouette sitting at the window watching it to, like he often saw when he came into the room. This time instead of being annoyed at your presence, he wonders how he could fix things if you never left. Would things ever even be seen properly if you hadn’t left?
He whines out loud at the thought, wishing you were there to tell him it’s all okay, and comb through his hair with your soft fingers like you used to. He wants to sleep, but he can’t. 
“I miss you. I’m a fucking idiot.” he softly murmurs into the air. Looking over to the anthurium plant that was in its usual spot that you loved so much, you had that plant longer than you were with him. Most of the plants in the room were long dead by now, but the anthurium was thriving. It gave him the smallest bit of comfort and relief, that somewhere, you were alive and okay. He wondered if you’d ever come back, even just for the plants. He smiled at the thought of you again, and he reached to the floor to pull up one of your old tee-shirts you left behind. A simple black one, and it still reeked of your familiar, comforting scent. He nuzzled his face into it, absorbing the comfortable feeling it gave him. Imagining you just being here again, right back into his arms like he wished. Like everything was okay again. The thought gave him comfort, as he closed his heavy lidded crimson irises that begged for the release of slumber. To dream of a life different than the one he was faced with. One with you in it.
In another life, I guess.
^^^
The last month was a tough one for you, you left everything behind. No plan in mind but to get as far away from Tomura as you could. You managed to get through the run down city of Deika somewhat okay, even though there was rubble covering the entirety of the streets. You would’ve been left with cuts and bruises because of how hard it was to climb over certain spots, but luckily your quirk saved you from that. Your eyes were dry by the time you reached the end of the city, it dawned on you there that you were finally free from the pain you once felt. It didn’t completely go away, but the familiarity of your surroundings was unknown, and that gave your mind some clarity. There was no pain here, nothing around you reminded you of him. It was uncharted territory, a place to make your own. Sure it was just a mostly deserted pavement road surrounded by some trees, and houses that were more than likely empty. There was nothing left to do but go forward. You walked down the empty pavement road until the sun began to rise, and still no signs of any civilization. It was empty, lifeless, and dull, but you were happy. Free. From time to time you’d stop to fix your shoes, find somewhere to relieve yourself or drink some water. 
You were hoping to find a bus, or a motel before you got too tired. You stopped for a moment to check the small pocket watch you had with you in your bag to see that it was almost seven in the morning. But you kept on, and even though your legs began to feel like jello-- you soon were coming upon a new city. One that looked full, lively, and different. 
Instead of just hopping on a bus, you decided to find a motel to shower, unwind and sleep in a warm bed. As you stumbled upon one, paid for you room and stripped yourself of your clothes, you immediately crashed to the bed. Sleeping for far longer than you wanted to, but needed to.
For a while it was a lot of traveling, trying to come up on a plan, and your money was running low. You were free, but there was still a cost. There you were, eating some cheap, cold soba outside in the rain in Musutafu. It was midday, and there was a lot of people out on the streets going to and from work (or school, who knows), the streets were lined with cars. heroes were on patrol everywhere. It felt good to be back somewhere you were used to, even if there was nothing for you there to feel stable. The jacket you wore was fairly thick, but didn’t keep you the warmest. You sat underneath a small bus stop shivering while eating something that made your hands go numb. Some of those that passed you gave you dirty looks, eyeing you up and down, assuming you were just another dirty beggar enjoying a meal someone else paid for you. Internally you felt ashamed of yourself for having to live like this, but it was all for a purpose. Let them stare, what do they know?
Soon your noodles were lessening, and you had finished your soba. After you took the last few noodles, you grabbed all of the trash you had sitting around you, and walked over to a trash can outside of the large law firm you were outside of. Placing it inside, and walking away before you heard something behind you. “Y/n?” a voice called from behind you, not registering at first that it was familiar to you.
You turned your head to look at the person behind you. It was Giran, in the flesh. Standing there with an umbrella over his head, and cigarette kissing between his lips. “Giran?” He flopped his grey locks out of his forehead. He looked exactly how you remembered him, gapped tooth, nice looking clothes, beautiful gold rings decorating his fingers, and the little glasses of his you always tried to steal from him.
“Doll... what the hell are you doing all the way over here? What happened? Why do you...”
“Why do I look like this?” You raised your brow, he shamelessly nodded. “I’m homeless, that’s why.”
“Why? What happened for you to be homeless?”
“I... I left. Things happened, I just-- I needed to leave.” you stumbled over your words, not really wanting to tell him the full story.
“I have a feeling there’s a story there you’re not telling me.”
“Yeah, I’ll tell you about it another time. Well, it was good seeing you, I’ll leave you to it--” 
He hastily cut you off, not letting you walk away from him. It was obvious to the both of you that you were running from something, and probably going to run off to another city alone again. “Wait!” you turned to him, raising your eyebrow to him. “I was just heading home, come with me. You shouldn’t be out here alone, doll.”
“I don’t want to impose... Really, I’ll be fine--”
“Y/n. You are homeless, I want you to be safe and sleep in a warm bed. You aren’t imposing sweetheart, I’ll take care of you. I ask nothing in return besides that you fill me in at some point about what happened. I don’t wanna hear any no’s or but’s coming from ya, you’re not sleeping out on the streets anymore. Let’s go.” he said shamelessly. Giran was always good with looking out for you, you came to him shortly before going to the league looking for work as a healer within a group. You found yourself intrigued by Shigaraki, and Giran of course being the gentleman he is, asked you if you were sure a million times. Telling you that no matter what happened, he would watch over you, and take care of you. He’d always cared. You hastily agreed, he patted your shoulder comfortingly.
You followed him closely back to his home, the umbrella doing little to prevent water from falling all over you. Soon you arrived to his beautiful home, and quickly settled in. He allowed you to take a shower, took all of your clothes to run through the washer, and gave you some of his spare clothes to wear in the mean time. The hot water soothed your sickly cold feeling skin, the musky mint smelling soap soothing your senses. For the first time in a while, you were relaxed.
After taking a shower, and setting up in his guest room, Giran came into the room. Eyeing you carefully as you sat in the white cotton sheets in his baggy undershirt and basketball shorts. Your wet hair sticking to the back of your head. “Hungry?” he asked. “I’m about to order takeout, what sounds good?”
“Curry, and taiyaki. Haven’t had either in so long.”
“An interesting combination, but I’ll see what I can do. Just relax for now, feel free to hangout in the living room. I got a TV and some books. Do whatever you feel, though.” he grinned at you. Patting the doorway before turning to walk away.
“Giran?” you called out to him.
“Yes?” he replied putting himself back into view.
“Thank you, for everything. I hope I can make it up to you one day.”
“Don’t worry about that now doll, all I care about is keepin’ you safe.” he smiled a genuine smile, which you returned. It was nice to be surrounded by so much hospitality and kindness. He stepped away from the door frame once again to let you do whatever it is you wanted to do. That night you both shared a meal, chatted, and went to bed. He let you take some books into the guest bedroom for you to read whenever you wanted. You felt at ease, like you were finally safe and grounded. You didn’t have to rely on Tomura for anything anymore, you had yourself. 
Even though deep down, you missed him. It had been ages since he last held you, kissed you, or even looked at you properly-- but you still missed it. All of it. You wondered if he was doing okay, if he was still with her, or if he even cared if you left. Honestly, you doubted it, he probably would’ve taken a couple days to even realize something was even slightly off. You didn’t regret your decision, but part of you would always miss him. 
Always, and forever, love him.
--
Over the next month or so, the routine was generally the same. Giran learned about what Tomura had done to you and why you were homeless. He decided to let you work with him in his office, you mostly would just organize his files, greet clients (usually ones he needed help convincing because you were the little office eye candy), cleaning around the office, and just overall being his assistant. He respected you, cared for you, and got you back to your feet-- without expecting a thing from you. The two of you were growing closer, and you were nothing but thankful to him. Sometimes the two of you would dress up super fancy to go to meetings for very high up clients who couldn’t be seen anywhere near where Giran worked out of safety for the two of them. It was a quite relaxing life, and you were growing used to everything. 
There you sat in your usual spot in Giran’s office, filing some paperwork that needed to be put away. Your office was a little room attached to Giran’s main office, small but comfortable. You’d spend most of the day in there until it was lunch time, or special cases where he needed your charm to make a client more comfortable. You were lost in the groove of the routine that often came with these tasks, listening to the music playing from your laptop speaker that was low enough to be able to hear anyone talking, and not be heard by anyone but you. From time to time stopping to play with the button on your blouse. Giran insisted that you dressed formally for the job, which consisted in business formal attire. Like right now, you were wearing a black button up blouse, dark maroon pencil skirt, tights, and black mary-jane high heeled shoes. A cute little choker chain on your neck to show some more class, and matching simple earrings. You looked formal enough to be doing the job, but also cute enough to just go out in the outfit.
After sitting, and filing for what seemed like hours, you decided to stretch. Getting up from your chair, and popping your limbs. Walking into Giran’s office cautiously. You didn’t hear anyone with him, but you never knew. You lightly knocked on the door frame to get his attention, his face was downwards as he read over some documents at his desk. “Hey bossman, how’s it goin’?” You asked him, leaning into the open frame. His head turned towards you away from the desk, a small smile present on his features.
“Good, good. Just readin’ over this real quick. You need me doll?”
“Oh don’t flatter yourself, I just needed a bit of a break, and you also shouldn’t be stretching your neck out like that. You might hurt yourself.” raising your eyebrows playfully. He scoffed and rolled his eyes.
“Well, it’s almost time for lunch. How about you go out and get us somethin’ to eat? You hungry yet?” he asked pulling a cigarette from his pocket, and placing it on his mouth. Grabbing his metal lighter from the desk to light it, taking a long drag before exhaling the smoke slowly out his nose.
“Hmm... maybe, I’d be okay with getting us something.” 
“One sec.” he replied, getting up from his seat to walk to his large trench coat that sat in its place on the coat rack in the corner next to the door. Digging in the pocket of it for something, which he soon found. He took a drag on the cancer stick once more before returning. “Here’s my card.”
“Thanks.” 
“Also, you look beautiful today Y/n.” he admitted, leaning against his desk in front of you.
“Are you implying I don’t look beautiful every other day?” you retorted, feeling your face warm up with bashfulness. 
“Never, doll. Just thought I’d make you smile.” he leaned towards you. Pulling his cigarettes from his lips to press a kiss to you forehead, your stomach fluttering wildly. Sometimes his little affirmations of affection made you go insane, you sometimes wished you had the confidence and stability to just grab his collar, and kiss him. Sure, he was older, but he was attractive. There was no doubt there, and the feelings were mutual. But you assumed neither of you wanted to ruin what was already going on. “Now get on, it might rain within the next hour. Wouldn’t want you to get wet.”
You smiled, placing your hand on his cheek in an assuring way before walking to the coat rack to grab your warm coat. Turning back to him before exiting the office, a soft smile present on your lips, muttering a quick good bye before opening the door. 
--
Soon you were back with take out bags on your hands, coming up upon the door of the office, knocking, before taking a step in. Happy to see Giran again, and eat your lunch. As your eyes registered upon the desk in front of you, you felt your heart drop into your stomach. Your hands quickly becoming sweaty as your gripped on to the plastic bags you held on to for dear life. There was that familiar light blue colored mop of hair sitting in the chair adjacent from Giran. He was wearing a black trench coat you hadn’t seen him wear since he exchanged his wardrobe for all of the suits, his back was to you, but even then you could still immediately tell it was him. His voice rang in the air, and died quietly as he recognized Giran’s distressed face. 
“Giran, what...” he asked, but let the words fall off his tongue, turning his head to look into your direction.
Without waiting, you dropped the bags of food on the ground, turning to open the office door. You quickly walked to the elevator, smashing the buttons on the wall to step in, just wanting to get away from him. You were scared to face him, you refused to, and luckily the buttons outside the elevator dinged, and it opened, you looked back to the office to see Tomura opening the door, catching your gaze. “Y/n! Wait! Please!” he called after you as you rushed inside the elevator, smashing the buttons to close. Your arms and legs trembling violently as you waited for the door to close on him.
“Stop! Y/n please let me-- hey stop!” he called after you, his foot steps and voice growing closer as the door began to close. When it almost came to a close, you saw his panicked red iris, he sounded so distressed that it made you almost want to open up the door, and let him in. But at the same time, you were trembling. You knew he worked with Giran, but you never expected to see him again. Giran tried to promise you that, but he also warned that things were unpredictable, and that he would do his best to keep you safe. You felt tears welt up in your eyes that you tried to blink away, knowing that he most likely was going to beat you to the lobby and confront you anyways.
You loved him.
But could you even forgive him?
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snarkwrites · 3 years
Text
ssw | embry call ; let me take care of you.
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NOTES:
As I said yesterday... I’m going to break down the list of prompts I originally intended to use for just one one-shot into a few different ones for this because I just felt like the first one flowed so well using only the one... This is the second part to the one shot I posted yesterday. And there will be at least a few more parts after this. I can’t say when they’ll be coming, but I can say they will be coming eventually.
Again, same as yesterday.. I am not a medical professional. Nor have I ever had amnesia of any kind. I’m trying my best with this, so apologies if it doesn’t seem realistic or whatever...If it matters/bothers anyone, that is.
Question though.. Would anyone be interested in at least one part of this being written in his point of view? Because I feel like it’d be interesting to write that way... It’d be third person..
PROMPTS:
Taken from [ here ] or [ here ]. The prompt used for inspiration here was obviously, Let me take care of you.
FANDOM / CHARACTER:
Twilight / Embry Call x Imprint!OFC, Merisa.
OTHER WORKS EMBRY & MERISA ARE FOUND IN:
[ he looks down. she looks up. ] 
WARNINGS:
amnesia tw, vague injuries mentioned tw, just gonna say her current soon to be ex boyfriend is an actual piece of garbage so.. yeah.. Sexual tension. Beyond all these, there’s not really anything else I can think of.
TAGGING:
@kyleoreillysknee​  is the only one currently on my Twilight taglist. If you see this and you’d like to be tagged also, add yourself to the doc below or lmk. It’ll make me super happy.
OTHER STUFF:
[ faq | request rules | sfw masterlist | tag list doc ]
The phone rang, shattering the silence and my train of thought. Okay, so it wasn’t a train of thought because I was more or less staring out the window of my grandmother’s living room and watching Embry Call work on my grandmother’s old car out in the driveway, but.. The phone was a distraction I didn’t want.
I grumbled when it didn’t go quiet. And after a few more seconds I’d had all I could take of the high pitched sound in all it’s annoying glory. I sprang up from the couch gingerly, grabbing up the remote to pause the true crime documentary I’d been engrossed in about Richard Ramirez and I hobbled into the kitchen, wincing every step of the way.
A scowl filled my face and I tensed up just as soon as I picked up and I heard Greg on the other end of the line. Upon hearing his voice, all sorts of unpleasant memories came rushing back. It was too much. 
“Merisa?”
“What, Greg?” I snapped. Impatient. Peering out my grandma’s living room window. Biting my bottom lip as I watched Embry tug the stained tank top he was wearing up over his head and wipe at sweat on his forehead with it before tossing it on the concrete slab next to his open toolbox.
“I asked you a question.” Greg cleared his throat expectantly.
Is it bad that I was so caught up in watching Embry do mechanic things outside that I didn’t even attempt to make an effort to listen to a damn word Greg said? Because this is exactly what happened.
“I wasn’t listening.”
Greg gave an annoyed huff at my honest answer and I rolled my eyes. Grumbling. The crackle of static over the phone line breaking through for a second or two. Whether I asked for him to repeat himself or not didn’t matter at all because Greg went on and asked his question again anyway.
“I said don’t you think you should be planning to return to Seattle soon? You were only supposed to be gone for a few days. It’s been nearly four weeks.” Greg stated. Pausing for a minute to grumble to himself about how this was typical of me, telling him one thing and then doing something entirely different.
And I snapped.
“Does the fact that I nearly died three and a half weeks ago just not mean anything to you at all or..?” I snarled, going quiet for a second or two. Determined to stay calm. But exploding felt so damn satisfying. It was hard to resist. I got the feeling that I spent 90 percent of my time around Greg biting my tongue and that had me wondering why. What did this guy have that kept me with him? The more I wondered about it, the harder it was to come up with any real sort of answer.
“Sorry. I should know better than to ask questions I already know the answer to.” I apologized. In my own petty way, of course.
Greg took my apology as sincerity and he sighed. Disappointed, obviously because I wasn’t there to tend to his every stupid whim. “I’m sorry too, it’s just.. I told you we had plans. You know how important this weekend is to me and the fact that you’re not even trying to come back… I’m just disappointed, sweetheart. That’s all.”
,, well excuse the fuck out of me for grieving. excuse me for loving my mother enough to want to go to her funeral. Excuse me for nearly dying and needing to heal and getting in the way of your precious plans,asshole.” I wanted to say it so badly that I had to bite the insides of my cheeks and ball my hands into fists just to keep it in. I sighed. “Instead of making this harder than it has to be, you could actually be a caring boyfriend and come to make sure I’m okay… I mean.. I am dealing with memory loss and injuries...”
Surprise, surprise. He suddenly had a thousand excuses as to why he couldn’t -and wouldn’t, just do that. And my stomach churned. Did he even give a shit? Why was I still wasting my time? Why had I even bothered answering the phone in the first place this time?
I made up my mind right then. As soon as I got off the phone with him, I was going to block him on all socials. I was going to block his number on my cell phone. And if I saw his name on my grandmother’s caller ID when the phone rang, I was just going to walk out of the room.
“I’ve gotta go.” I muttered. Before Greg could say anything else,  I hung up the phone angrily. Slamming it down on it’s cradle.
From the doorway, Embry cleared his throat and stepped into the living room. “Trouble in paradise?”
“If that’s what paradise is I’d hate to imagine hell.” I flopped back on the couch dramatically. Wincing when yes, it still hurts to move certain ways. Or too much at once. 
Embry sat down in my grandmother’s recliner. Staring intently at the television which was paused on the clubhouse scene from Dirty Dancing.
I grabbed my cell phone from the end table and did exactly what I made up my mind to do. Blocking Greg on every single one of my socials. And out of pettiness, I changed my relationship status on Instagram to single.
He’d never even bothered to change his, if memory serves. Why had I changed mine?
There was still so much I had left to fill in as far as my memory gaps, but it was coming back in leaps and bounds. Something told me that the last thing I needed to have done was return to Seattle. Otherwise, I might not have ever remembered or  even realized to begin with, what kind of man I was involved with because I’m pretty sure that Greg wouldn’t have started to really show his true self.
He’d done a pretty fair job of hiding just how controlling and easily irritated by the slightest inconvenience he really was so far, I mean, I hadn’t dropped his ass.
I smirked in satisfaction as I put down my phone. 
I happened to glance over at Embry to find him staring at me. Like he wanted to say something or he was lost in thought. Before I could help myself, I was staring right back. Getting pulled into the depths of his eyes. Eventually dropping my gaze down. Lingering on his mouth when he licked his lips.
I couldn’t stop staring. This was starting to become habit whenever he was around. Especially if he wasn’t paying attention so I knew I could stare to my hearts content and get away with it.
I stood and cleared my throat. “I’m gonna go get myself some lemonade. Do you want anything?” I asked as I walked over to the doorway leading into the kitchen.
“If there are any more bottled waters?” Embry asked hopefully. I smiled and gave him a thumbs up. And as soon as I was in the kitchen, I leaned against the fridge. Fanning myself with one of my grandmother’s magazines that happened to be sitting on the counter.
After I managed to pull myself together just a little bit, I grabbed a bottled water for Embry and I poured myself a glass of lemonade. And when I turned to walk back into the living room, I found myself body to body with Embry as he stepped into the doorway between the two rooms.
My thighs clenched just a little at the way it felt to be pressed against him. Hard muscles against my own softness. For a second, when I opened my mouth to tell him I’d gotten his water like he asked for, the words hung in my throat.
Finally, I managed to get it out. “Your water, sir.” I held out the water bottle to him and after holding it against the back of his neck for a few seconds, he uncapped it, practically swallowing down half the bottle in one gulp.
Eyes locked on me the entire time. I know this because I’ll be damned if I could stop staring at him either. I tried. And failed.
He cleared his throat.
“Oh, right.. You probably wanted to wash your hands…” I stepped out of the doorway, pouting to myself a little because the second physical contact was broken, I missed the feel of his body against mine.
He walked over to the sink. Turning it on. Washing his hands. And I happened to notice he had a few busted knuckles.
“You need those sanitized. C’mere.” I nodded to the stool on the other side of the counter. Embry shrugged. Muttered that it wasn’t a big deal.
“It’s called infection setting in. And it can happen.” I insisted, nodding to the stool again. When he shook his head and took another sip of water and calmly insisted that he was fine, I shook my head and hobbled over. Grabbing hold of the hand that wasn’t injured. Leading him to the stool. “Sit.”
“Okay, alright. You know, you’re a lot bossier than I remember.” Embry muttered, gazing down at me. Even sitting down he was still taller. Bigger.
I stuck out my tongue at him. “If it keeps you from getting a nasty infection in your hand, I’ll take it.” I muttered. My gaze settling on him. Instantly getting sucked right back into those deep brown eyes and lost.
After a second or two of both of us staring at each other yet again, I cleared my throat. “I should go find the first aid kit.”
“It’s under the sink.” Embry answered quietly. I bit my lip. Nodding as I muttered mostly to myself, “Under the sink.” and turned away to get it.
“You don’t have to do this. I’m telling you, it’s fine. I deal with this all the time. Kind of happens when you work at a garage, Merisa…” Embry trailed off as I glanced back at him and stated in a firmer tone, “Let me take care of you, okay?”
I grabbed the bottle of peroxide and a rag. Sitting on the stool adjacent to his. Grabbing hold of his hand and placing it in my lap.
“You have tiny hands.” Embry muttered, almost sounding dazed. I glanced up at him through a curtain of hair as it fell right into my face because I bent my head just a little to see his hand better. I swallowed hard. Trying not to think of how good it felt to have his hand in mine. Or on my body.
When I exhaled, it was shaky.
That had me raising a brow.
If this man had one tenth of a clue just what he stirred up in me, I swear to God…
He jumped as the peroxide made contact with the open wounds, bubbling and fizzing as it cleaned the wounds out. 
A memory came back to me… I was younger. Probably around five. My grandmother sat on the stool Embry currently sat on and I sat on the stool I was currently sitting on. My leg was in her lap and she was dabbing some red liquid on it that burned like the fire of ten thousand hells. I was crying and trying to jerk my leg away, but my grandma just held onto it. And when she finished, she leaned in… Blowing gently on my injured knee. 
As the bubbling started to slow down, I raised Embry’s hand, leaning down. Blowing on the knuckles a little. Glancing up at him and teasing playfully, “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
“I’ve felt worse.” he finally mumbled after we’d been locked in a quiet staredown for what felt like minutes instead of seconds. 
It sank in that I was still holding onto his hand. And he wasn’t making an effort to pull his hand away, either.
My grandmother cleared her throat from the doorway and smirked at the two of us playfully as she came in, sitting groceries on the counter. “Am I interrupting something, Merisa?”
“No, not at all.” I answered. Smiling. Letting go of Embry’s hand as my cheeks burned. I felt like a teenager just walked in on by her parents.
Embry slid off the stool and brushed his hands over his jeans. “I need to get back to it.” he muttered. Hurrying out of the house. As soon as the screen door banged shut behind him, I let out a ragged breath. Fanning myself with the magazine again.
Trying to ignore the look I was getting from my grandmother.
When she couldn’t resist any longer, she spoke up. “He’s single.. If you’re wondering.”
“Grandma!” I laughed out, shaking my head. My gaze lingering on the window. Fixed on him.
My grandmother spoke up again. “It’s been so nice having you here, Mermaid… It’ll be a shame to see you go.”
Before I really stopped to think about it, I replied “ Honestly? I’m tempted to stay.”
My grandmother pulled me into a tight hug. Smiling at me as the hug broke. “I won’t stop you. The decision is yours.”
I nodded. Waiting until she was in the other room with one of her soap operas going full blast before I wandered back over to the window that faced where Embry currently was outside. Staring out at him with my fingertips pressed against the glass.
I thought he’d caught me one time because he stopped what he was doing beneath the hood of the car to glance around the yard. I moved away from the window quickly, shaking my head and laughing at myself about it.
I’ll repeat. If Embry Call had one tenth of a clue the effect he had on me...
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sunlightxing · 3 years
Text
Show Me Some Respect
After working for years as a secretary to General Hux aboard the ship, the Finalizer, life could not have been better for you.
That was until Hux informed you that Commander Kylo Ren would be joining you on that ship. Almost immediately, you both resent each other, but after being forced to spend more alone time with him, you begin to wonder, what's so bad about him after all?
Tags on A03 Include:
-Force Choking (Star Wars)
-Fluff and Smut
-Face-Fucking
-Not How the Force is Used
-Armitage Hux Needs a Hug
-Kylo Ren is an asshole
-Y/N Makes Poor Choices
-Praise Kink
-Choking
-Cum-Eating
-Orgasm Delay/Denial
-Sexual Tension
-Sexual Abuse
-Y/N Goes Through A Lot
-Murder
-Possessive Kylo Ren
-Protective Armitage Hux
-Kylo and Hux Get Along Maybe Twice
Chapter 1: Do As He Says
A dread filled morning takes you by suspense when your boss, General Hux, riddles you with nothing but fear for your first encounter with the menacing, Commander Kylo Ren.
A/N: Hello to readers here on tumblr. I’m a little new to posting original work (especially writing) on here so bear with me as I figure it all out! I hope you enjoy my first ever Kylo Ren X Reader story (I dont use y/n cause I don’t like it, my deepest apologies)
Why’d you leave us?
A faint voice called out to you in the distance, so soft and silky, daintily whispering to you. Despite the initial faintness, it slowly began to get closer and closer, its volume ever increasing.
Your eyes fluttered open, but the bright sun blinded them, causing you to seal them shut once more. Eventually, they adjusted to the light, and you opened them to see so many large, and bare trees stretching towards the sky above you. White speckles, snow, were falling all around you, some flakes even landing on your nose.
It felt oddly peaceful, the soft moss around you feeling more comfortable than your own bed. It encased around you, smothering you with warmth and comfort. You kept your eyes shut, and felt yourself seconds from falling asleep on the slightly snow-covered ground. For just a moment, your reopened your eyes, getting one more view of your surrounding before drifting off. But then, to your horror, you saw that the ground next to you was completely covered in blood.
Your eyes widened in fear as you jolted away from your spot on the ground, and pushed yourself up against a nearby tree. The voice in the distance was coming closer towards you, and kept roaring louder and louder. The blood on the ground began to expand, seeping through the moss at an alarming rate. It surrounded the entire area around you, except directly where you were sitting.
As you glanced back up at the sky, the snow, which had now transformed into an icy hail, had begun to take on an even stranger form. In its image, flashes of their faces blew past you, and with it, followed the sound of their screams and cries. Pleading for help, for you to save them. The smell of burning wood wafted into your nostrils, and that voice in the distance was still growing louder. You knew that soon, it would be upon you.
"Wake up, wake up. Please fucking wake up!"
In a jolt of cold sweats, you gasped back to reality, frantically scanning the area around you to make sure it was safe.
"Just a dream, it was just a dream."
Your breath was sporadic, leaving you a panting and anxious mess as you pulled yourself out of bed. Even the smallest movement caused a massive amount of pain surge to through your head.
"I can't take another one of those nightmares." You thought, grabbing the glass of water from your nightstand. You looked over at your clock groggily, and your heart sank upon seeing that you had overslept, giving you little to no time to prepare for the day.
The shower water was freezing when you initially turned it on, per usual. It always felt embarrassing to have to stand outside the door, completely nude, occasionally dangling your finger under the water to see if it had heated up yet.
Over 3 years ago you began working as a secretary to General Hux, and though there was a monstrous amount of glitz and glam thought to come with such a job, it couldn't have been more painfully annoying.
Sure, Hux was somewhat kind and caring towards you, but every other person you pitifully encountered treated you like shit. They'd throw their fits when you wouldn't deliver their papers, shine their boots, tasks they very easily could've done themselves, but simply refused. It wasn't the most difficult job in the world, despite the constant hazing. However, their was a shocking increase in secretaries amongst the First Order. It was most definitely due to the jobs incredible bore-ability, and the fact whoever was placed in such a position would be treated like garbage by everyone they encountered.
You rushed through your shower, only using the time to wash your hair and then yourself. The steam from the hot water had fogged your mirror, which made it hard for you to see your hair when putting it up into two long french braids. You pulled a few strands out in the front, trying to look somewhat nice since your uniform sure didn't help. It was a shapeless, olive green suit, with baggy pants, and thick, heavy boots. The hat that came along with it also wasn't very flattering, but it wasn't like anyone saw you other than your crewmates, and General Hux.
You took another swig from your cup of water as you stared out your glass window and into the infinite galaxy. Your brain decided to alert you of how Hux would be ridiculously pissed off if you were late, as today was one of the days you dreaded most of all since you began working on the Finalizer. The ship would be making its way back to Starkiller base, and you were anything but excited for that.
Several technicians raced by you, heading off to fix some malfunction in the interior of the ship. You always looked at them and wondered if they enjoyed their jobs here, or if, just like you, it was a love-hate relationship.
You entered the control room, staring the other programmers and pilots plugging away at their stations. Though they didn't technically fly the Finalizer, their work was incredibly important. You liked to think yours was important as well, but in reality, it was pointless. Technically, you were Huxs' right hand. As a result, he told you practically anything and everything. So it was more like you were a glorified therapist that followed him around like a lost pet.
"Cadet," a voice said behind you. General Hux was standing at the entrance to the control room, looking a lot more frazzled than usual. "Will you walk with me for a moment?"
You nodded, following closely behind him. Unlike usual, you decided to keep your mouth shut, hoping he would start to explain why he looked so disheveled and unnerved, but he didn't say a word. It was becoming harder to not acknowledge how his body trembled intensely with ever step he took.
"General, if I may ask, is everything alright?" You questioned sweetly, trying not to sound disrespectfully intrusive.
Hux let out a heavy sigh, stopping for a moment to rest against a nearby wall. "I am, not alright," he panted, his voice shaking more than his body was. "When we arrive at Starkiller base, you're going to have to meet The Commander, and I already know you two will not get along."
Your face recoiled as you began to dig into the back of your mind. "Did he mean Commander Ren? That stubborn brute?" You laughed to yourself, while Hux was seconds from engaging in a panic attack.
"This is no laughing matter cadet!" He hollered, his voice nearly cracking at every syllable.
You let out a long sigh. "Hux, I can deal with Kylo Ren. He doesn't scare me at all."
"He should scare you," Hux stated plainly. "My last secretary, before you. He made one simple mistake, and Ren saw to it that the poor boy was eradicated."
Your eyes grew wide with fear, darting away from his gaze so he couldn't see the horror on your face. Hux said it plain as day, if you made so much as one, small mistake, Commander Ren would personally see to it that you were eradicated as well.
Hux groaned. "We both work for the same Supreme Leader, which means I have to work with him." His breathing patterns began to grow more heavy and frantic, and his face flushed with a vibrant red.
You tried to calm him down, as you knew the ship couldn't make the entire flight back without his orders. The two of you had gotten rather close, and you had a lot of respect for him. He'd come in some days looking like he'd seen a ghost, and you wouldn't have been shocked if he had. If the Commander managed to make Hux, your boss, that anxious, you knew this couldn't be good.
After what seemed like seconds, you had arrived at your destination. Just the sight of Starkiller base sent shivers down your spine.
Sure, you'd been their plenty of times, but you never had to willingly interact with the Commander before. In fact, you'd never so much as seen the smallest fragment of his figure. Which would make his reveal all the more terrifying.
As you approached the landing bay, the large metal doors began to open to allow your entrance in. Hux came up behind you, his posture had been perfected, and all expression on his face had been wiped. He looked like a whole new man, and you weren't sure that if you wanted to get on the Commander's good side, you'd have to become a whole new woman.
"The Commander would like us both to meet with him in his quarters before he joins us onboard." Hux said, his voice shaking. You nodded as you took one more look at the hull of the control room, not sure if it was your last.
The pair of you made your way from the control room, to the landing bay. A small craft would take you from the Finalizer to the bay on Starkiller, but you wanted nothing more than just to stay put. There were ways where you could completely avoid the Commander for the entire duration he was here, you hoped. You would just have to hide in a waste bucket every time he came near Hux, and that didn't seem so bad. You groaned, glancing over at Hux as the cruiser landed rather dramatically at the center of the bay.
“Hux, he’s going to hate me, isn’t he?”
He sighed, placing an awkward arm on your shoulder, his attempt at comfort. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that."
As the pair of you walked down the long hallways of the Starkiller base, it felt as if you were walking to your doom. Which, in reality you probably were. Two stormtroopers had been sent to escort you from the ship to Commander Rens' quarters. They didn't say a word the entire trip to said quarters, despite Hux's several attempts.
Eventually, the four of you arrived at what you presumed to be the Commander's meeting room. The two troopers walked up to the door, placing a loud knock on it to signal their arrival, and then stationed themselves on either side of it. Hux took in a deep breath as he began typing into a small keypad attached to the entrance, and then, the door was open.
"Commander, my apologies on us being later than normal." Hux said, walking through the doorway to the meeting room.
"Oh Gods."
Commander Ren looked like nothing you had expected, though you couldn't really see all of him. He was tall, absolutely massive, his muscles practicality protruding from his sleeves. But his face, you couldn't see so much as an outline of that. Covering it was a thick, solid metal mask, breathing canal and all. He was a true Vader knock off.
He slowly turned around, a feeling of pure rage wafting off of him. For a brief moment, you were certain he was seconds from smashing Huxs' head in, but then he stopped dead in his tracks. His head titled from Huxs' body to your own. Though you couldn't see his facial expression underneath that mask, you new it was one of disgust.
"Who are you?" He asked, gesturing in your direction. You arched your eyebrows in confusion, could he not tell just by simply looking at your uniform?
"No answer?" Commander Ren scoffed.
"I'm his secretary, Commander," you stated, gesturing in Huxs' direction, "didn't you request my presence here? "
He shook his head, placing a hand on the front of that intimidating facial shield. The movement made it look as if he was gaining a headache from your small amount of talking. "This is who you had replace the old one?" Commander Ren hissed, "have you no shame, Hux?"
"Ren, she is very talented in her work and a fantastic secretary," Hux responded, glancing over in your direction. "She has made a fantastic replacement." You smiled, happy to know Hux would still show you some form of kindness around the Commander.
"Hux," Commander Ren stated, "I'll trust your judgment here." He approached Hux slowly, giving him ample time to make your poor General tremble in fear. The Commander stopped inches from his face, his mask nearly touching the tip of Huxs' nose.
"If she makes so much as one mistake, she's gone."
Your face recoiled in disgust. "Well, what the fuck?" You thought to yourself. Did he actually doubt your abilities that much? Or was this all some sort of twisted test of your competence?
The Commander darted his head around, glaring at you in rage. Your body went completely stiff as his masked gaze penetrated your mind. A trill of pain surged through your temples, like something was digging around in your brain for any scrap of information. "That language of hers will not be tolerated either." He spat, looking back at Hux.
"My what? The hell is he talking about? I have yet to swear!" Your brain was spiraling out of control, and that trill of energy still surged throughout your brain.
His ego was disgustingly immense, not to mention he was a delusional idiot. The fool was making up down right lies about you, and to wait gain? He was already addressing Hux in such a disrespectful manner, he didn't need to take it out on you as well. But what even gave him the right to talk down to Hux in such a manner? He wasn't in any better of a position to lead than the General was, not to mention the fact that Hux was a lot easier to deal with, and a lot less moronic.
Commander Ren stood in place, his body shaking violently with rage. Huxs' body was also shaking, but his was out of fear. This was the first time you'd ever seen Hux so threatened by anyone. Usually, he presented such a mass amount of authority and dictation. But here, he was nothing more than a coward.
The Commander gave you an over-the-shoulder glance, and in that moment, you felt time stop. The world around you faded into black. Now, only you and him were in that room, and fear and panic began to rapidly set in. Your body had turned chillingly cold, and air escaped you.
A flash of light hit your eyes, his leather glove reflecting off the overhead chandelier. Before you could get a warning out, he slammed his fist into the wall next to Huxs' head. His curled hand punctured the metal frame, sending hundreds of small electrical sparks flying, leaving bare and broken wires in its wake.
"You teach her to show me some respect, or I will" Commander Ren hissed, his clenched fist now inches from Huxs' face.
Hux folded onto the metal floor, panting uncontrollably as the Commander hovered menacingly above him. You stood gazing at the pair of them, completely motionless, gulping down the fear that was now lodged in your throat. Your pupils shook in horror at what you had just seen, how absolutely horrid your new ship companion was.
Commander Ren glared at you, watching as every inch of your body trembled at his presence. He scoffed, storming out of the room with a prompt slam of the door, the sheer force alone causing you to jump. You looked back at Hux, whose forehead was drenched in sweat, and a slight tremor was visible on his hands. Carefully, as not to frighten him more, you reached down for his hand, an effort to help guide him up off of the floor.
"General..." You pleaded, wrapping your hand around his own as you began to lift. Hux shook you away, pulling himself off of the ground, trying not to show weakness. It was obvious that he was embarrassed of your viewing of his encounter with Commander Ren, but he shouldn't have been. All that quarrel showed was the fact Commander Ren was a prissy little bitch, and tyrant.
Hux dusted off his long coat, and smoothed back his red hair to its original, kept manner. He bit his lip, holding himself back from lashing out against anything the Commander had just done. You hoped he would do it anyway, give you some sort of hint that he too hated Commander Rens guts. But instead, he stared intensely at the door, his eyes becoming bloodshot with rage.
"If you want to make it out of here alive," Hux gulped, "you must to do as he says."
You scoffed in disbelief. "Hux you cannot possibly believe that," you cried. "He isn't as high and mighty as he claims to b-"
Hux slammed his hand over your mouth, his bare fingers tracing over the lining of your lips. His eyes stared painfully into your own, showing so much fear and uncertainty. "I told you to do as he says!" He hollered, the veins in his neck protruding from his already rose colored flesh. Hux removed his hand from over your mouth, and with another brush of his cape, he was gone out the doorway too, much less dramatically than the Commander.
You turned around, looking at the meeting room remorsefully. Your life had just flipped completely upside down, and you know now that you had no say in anything that would happen to it. Hux obviously wasn't going to be any help in standing up against Commander Rens' tyranny, so it looked like you were on your own.
And you hated being on your own.
You walked back to the ship with shane covering your entire body. Every person who passed by you, whether it was a technician or a stormtrooper, seemed to be mocking you. While that wasn't at all the case, Commander Rens' doubt of your capabilities made it seem like everyone else doubted them as well.
As you turned a corner, so flustered and furious you didn't even know what planet you were on, another secretary slammed into you, spilling an incredibly hot and sticky liquid all over your uniform. "Oh my Gods, I am so sorry!" The girl whimpered, reaching for a cloth towel at her side to try and help dry you off.
You clenched your jaw tightly, worried all your rage might come flying out at her. She looked to be so incredibly overworked and stressed, just like you were about to be. You wondered if she had ever dealt with Commander Ren, or maybe her own General was just as terrible as he was, though you doubted that was humanly possible. You hated to admit it as much as the next person, but the treatment of secretaries, especially those that were female, could not have been more horrendous. Every one you had encountered had a horror story, or was currently living through one. Thankfully, your first job was with someone like Hux, a lot more patient and caring than any other. Thoughts crossed your mind of how awful your life would've been if your first job was to Commander Ren. Just the idea alone sent shivers down your spine.
The girl finally finished drying off the excess with a little help from you, but your clothes were soaked with whatever fluid she dumped onto you. Her eyes slowly began to swell up with tears as she stared at your ruined uniform.
"Hey," you said, taking her hand in your own. “There’s no need to cry. I'll go clean it myself, and it'll be good as new, don't worry."
She sniffled, reaching her other hand up to wipe the tears off of her face. Never could you have managed to snap at that girl, because you knew exactly what kind of suffering she was going through, as you had just dealt with the worst of it all. The girl hugged you in gratitude before scurrying back to wherever she came from, getting a replacement for the drink she had dropped. You took in a deep breath as you dreadfully looked down at your tarnished gown. Starkiller base was not somewhere you were familiar with, so finding a washroom was going to be far greater task than it should have been.
For what seemed like hours, you scanned each and every room across the vastness of the ship, hoping to finally find an area for you to clean off your soiled uniform. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched a stormtrooper exit a room with a fully washed, black undergarment, and you knew you had finally found your sought for destination. Rushing into the room, you hoped no one else would be inside, so you could quickly rip off your uniform and wash it without anyone seeing you in nothing but a bra and underwear.
Thankfully, no one was inside the washroom, giving you ample time to strip practically nude, and lock the door behind you as to not allow anyone to barge in.
Staring blankly at the machine that scrubbed and cleansed your attire, the chill of the empty room you sat in was beginning to sting your bare skin, your hair sticking up and goosebumps forming across every inch of it.
The process could not have taken any longer, but finally, it was washed, and ready to be moved to the next machine for drying. Minutes passed by as you sat in the cold and ever darkening room, rubbing up against the warm drying machine periodically as to not die of hypothermia.
"For God's sake, can you just hurry up!" You cried, slamming your foot against the machine, hoping that would throw it into a faster gear.
It did no good, the machine kept carrying on at its slow pace, causing nothing but agony and frustration on your part. You groaned, flopping back into the chair you had been sitting in, only for it to crumble into a hundred tiny pieces as you flopped yourself onto it.
"Mother fucker!" You groaned, lifting yourself off of the cold, metal floor. A bruise was clearly about to form upon your ass after that downfall.
"Language, cadet. That mouth will get you nowhere."
You spun around quickly, leaving your bra-covered breasts completely exposed to the eyes of Commander Ren, who now stood perfectly centered at the entrance of the washroom, the door closed behind him. Your eyes jolted to the lock that was now unfastened on the doorway, yet upon making eye contact, it clicked back into a locked position. Looking down, you noticed Commander Rens' finger was out of place from the rest of his clenched fist, and though at first you had no idea how he managed to weasel his way in here, now you did.
"The force?" You questioned in the back of your mind, watching the pointer finger retreat back to its clenched position.
His head tilted down, obviously showing his gaze had shifted from your eyes, to your almost fully naked body. You covered as much of yourself as you could, feeling completely flustered that so much of you was exposed to his eyes.
"What?" You asked. "Planning on insulting me again? Just get out."
"You're hung up on that?" He questioned, letting a small chuckle escape his throat. "I could have said so much worse."
You rolled your eyes at him, now hoping to make him so angry he would storm out like he did before. "Good for you, Commander. I'm sure you could've."
Silence reigned in the room longer than you would've preferred it to. You had hoped he would make some ridiculous, insulting statement so you could fire back at it, but he was silent.
"Do you mind?" You questioned, tilting your head towards the doorway so he could take the hint to leave.
"The ship was supposed to depart exactly 17 seconds ago," he remarked, keeping his gaze on your chest area, "Hux was going to be sent after you, if I didn't choose to."
You curled your lip sarcastically, letting out a small laugh along with it. "Well thank you so much for that, sir," you said sarcastically, again, gesturing towards the door in hopes that he would leave.
There was a long pause, giving you time to reflect on what he had just said. He would've had no knowledge your uniform had been soiled, tarnished by that poor girls dropped beverage.
So how the fuck did he know you were here?
He stood motionless. The only noise he exuded was the almost asthmatic breathing sounds from his mask. "Finish whatever task this is." Commander Ren instructed, finally moving his gaze away from your body.
He turned to the doorway, giving you a final glance before opening the door, and exiting the room. You stared at the metal frame in disbelief, the fact the Commander had just seen you in arguably your most venerable state was horrifying and embarrassing.
A slight movement on the door caught your attention, as the knob shifted back to its locked position. "Jeez, how kind of him," you scolded, turning back to the dryer that had finally finished its job, of course, right after the Commander had left.
After unlocking the door to the washroom, adorning your freshly cleaned uniform, you sprinted down the halls towards the bay. Thankfully, there wasn't a line of people standing outside the washroom waiting to use it themselves. For if they had seen the Commander in there with you, things would have just gotten so much more complicated.
You marched down the halls, now thinking about how ridiculously awkward your next several months of encounters with the Commander would be, now that your second meeting with him was when you were practically naked.
“Gods. This day cannot get any worse."
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