#horrible bastards make me emotional every time i think about them for a bit too long | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fueledbyapplepi · 3 years

Note

I love your writing it's so good!!! Could I have reader having a crush on the boys and giving them a kiss while they think the boys are asleep and confessing their love to them with mikey, chifuyu and the haitani brothers? Im just so soft for those boys!!!

Sleep Tight | Mikey, Chifuyu, Ran, and Rindou

- Confessing to the boys while they're (not really) asleep

genre: 🌸 fluff 🌸

warnings: minor cussing

A/N: Thank you, anon! I really got into writing this one ( ◜‿◝ )♡ Also, I honestly think I need to come up with better titles because it sounds like a word vomit to me LMAO Anyway, I hope you enjoy this!

Mikey (Sano Manjiro)

Life would be nice if you had someone by your side who felt the same way about you.

You already have Mikey by your side, making every day much easier to get by. But does he feel the same way with you?

You practically grew up together with Mikey. Being neighbors with the man, you often come by to play with them as kids- leading to a blooming friendship. Although more often, it was you watching Mikey train in his grandfather’s dojo, where he never fails to amaze you with his tricks. Sometimes, you’ll have sleepovers together with Emma and Mikey where you’ll watch movies with them. Only for Mikey to be sound asleep halfway through the movie.

Growing up, nothing has changed that much with that routine. The only thing that has changed is your growing feelings for Mikey.

You saw the ups and downs in his life. From the time he established Toman to losing Shinichiro, you were there to witness how he would build a castle from the rocks of his downfalls.

So it was no surprise that you find your heart beating much faster when he’s around.

Childish as he is, you can’t deny the fact that Mikey is charismatic, beautiful, and kind. But, you never had the chance to tell him what you feel. Because what if he never saw you the same way?

You looked at Mikey, who’s currently sitting by your side almost half asleep. His head swings from side to side as he struggles on whether he should watch the movie or not.

“Mikey, you always never get to finish our movie nights. You’re no fun.” Emma pouted at his brother as she turned off the television.

“Mhmm, not sleepy.” Mikey turned to look at you then at Emma before leaning on your shoulder. “Just a little.”

Your heart flutters from close contact. “Maybe he’s tired from one of Toman’s meetings.” You turned to look at Emma with a sorry face

Sighing, Emma stepped out of the room as she looked at you, “I’ll get us a blanket, wait here Y/N.”

Your face felt hot as you realized that you were left alone in the room with Mikey. Well, this isn’t unusual for you two but with the strong feelings you have for him, you just can’t help but blush.

You looked at Mikey, his eyelashes seemed a bit longer, making his eyes more beautiful. His lips, although chapped, pouted with the way he’s comfy with you.

“Mikey, can you stop being so pretty? It makes me want to kiss you,” you whispered, thinking that Mikey’s probably dozing off to dreamland.

Mikey opened out one of his eyes to take a peek at you. All the sleepiness vanishing from his body. Did he just hear you right? “Then kiss me, Y/N.”

“Heh? Mikey, you’re awake?” you felt embarrassment creeping into you. “Mikey...I...look, sorry. I-”

Your blabbering mouth was silenced with a peck on the lips. Mikey kissing all your worries away.

“I like you too, Y/N.” He smiled as he leaned closer to you. Your foreheads touching and nose brush against each other.

You felt like you’re on cloud nine. Is this real? Mikey likes you too?

Before you could say anything, the door opened with Emma looking at the two of you weirdly. “Hehhh, am I interrupting something?”

You and Mikey looked at Emma. An embarrassed look on both of your faces as if you were caught red-handed.

Now, there’s a lot of explaining to do.

Chifuyu Matsuno

No matter how many times you try, you always seem to lose.

But who won’t?

With Chifuyu’s angelic smile and kind eyes, your determination to admit your feelings for him always seems to waver. It’s just that your thoughts always fly out the window and anxiousness gets the best of you.

You’ve known Chifuyu for quite some time now. Baji, who’s your cousin, introduced him to you as Toman’s 1st Division Vice-Captain and most trusted partner. Of course, it was only natural for you to be wary of him. Baji might trust him, but he could be some sort of drug dealer or serial killer. Who knows?

You’re wrong though. The more time you spend with Chifuyu, the more you appreciate his presence. How can you not? He always lends you a helping hand whenever you need it. As cliche as it sounds, Chifuyu is like the knight and shining armor in your life.

And now here he is. Once again saving you from another horrible situation.

Chifuyu offered you a ride when he found you drenched from the rain in Shinagawa. Apparently, the weather wouldn’t be pleasant today but you forgot to read the weather forecast. Currently, he brought you to his home for the meantime as the rain wouldn’t be stopping until tomorrow.

“I’ll just text and let Baji-san know that you’ll be staying here.” Chifuyu handed you a blanket as he laid on his futon.

“Thank you, Chifuyu. But I swear it’s okay for me to sleep there. This is your bed anyway.” You said embarrassed.

Chifuyu yawned. Tiredness dropping from his eyes. “It’s alright, Y/N. I can’t let Baji-san’s pretty cousin sleep on the floor.” He smiled at you with a faint blush on his cheeks.

You laid on the bed silently. Blushing from his compliment. Did he just call you beautiful?

You looked at the ceiling for about a good minute before turning to Chifuyu. “Chifuyu-san, I-”

A soft sleeping figure cut you off. The light from the lamp outside reflected on his beautiful features.

You padded off your feet on the floor and sat right next to Chifuyu. Observing him, you notice that he looks prettier when he’s peaceful like this.

You hesitatingly brushed your fingers on his hair. While massaging it, you can’t help but feel overwhelmed by your emotions. “I like you, Chifuyu-san.” You smiled proudly at yourself as you finally got to admit your feelings even though he’s asleep.

However, you noticed that the sleeping figure in front of you stiffened and reddened from your statement. Eyes wide, you held a hand in your mouth.

“Chifuyu-san, are you awake?” You hoped that he wasn’t.

But apparently, he is. “I guess you caught me.” Chifuyu sat up and scratched his head as he smiled at you sheepishly. “That felt nice though.”

“I’m sorry!” You bowed your head, hair hiding your flustered state.

“I like it!” Chifuyu panicked. “I mean, no. I like it. But, I like you too, Y/N-san.”

You laughed. At the same time, feeling extremely happy from what you just had heard.

“I guess we have some explaining to do with Baji-san.” you teased him

“Mhmm. But,” he held your hand and put it into his hair. “Would you continue that?” Chifuyu smiled.

“Of course.” You smiled at him, continuing your hair massages.

Looks like you won this time.

Ran Haitani

You’re no medical expert. The only knowledge you got was based on textbooks and first aid knowledge.

Yet somehow, Ran would always come knocking on your door whenever he has cuts or injuries. Sometimes, even without one, he would come by at your place and complain that his body is painful.

And it’s one of those nights again as you hear a soft knock on the door.

Moving to Roppongi, you were warned about the Haitani brothers. How you must stay away from them because they’re just no good. However, you somehow managed to come across the elder Haitani while you were shopping at a local store when he asked you what hair dye he should use.

This little interaction moved from one way to the other and now, ever since Ran found out where you live, he always comes by to let you heal his “injuries”.

You’re not complaining though. Despite the rumors and warnings, Ran was much more different from what other people say. He may be cocky and teasing, but the beautiful man sure is nice when it comes to you.

Causing you to develop a little crush on him.

You opened the door as you welcomed Ran. “Now, what do we have for tonight?”

Ran stepped in as he walked towards the couch. Laying as if he lives around here. “I got a bump on my forehead.” He pointed out as he pouted at you.

“You have Rindou! And you call yourself notorious but you come here whining like a baby.” you rolled your eyes as you got in the kitchen getting an ice pack for the man.

“Here.” You handed out the ice pack as you stood up in front of him.

“No.” Ran rolled his eyes. “Kiss it, Y/N.” he pouted once again.

“You’re not a baby, Ran. Tch.” you sighed as you sat across him. “Take a nap here and I’ll cook for you when you wake up.”

“Now, wifey material aren’t we.” Ran teased as he closed his eyes. Holding the ice packet against his forehead.

About a good 10 minutes have passed and you never heard another bicker from Ran. As you look at him, the man seems to be sleeping like a log.

You crouched down near him. Observing his features. You must say, he’s quite beautiful and more attractive when less chaotic.

“You’re such a big baby.” Thinking that he’s asleep, you kissed the small bump on his forehead.

As you got up to prepare his late dinner, a hand clutched yours.

You felt your body freeze for a moment as you turned around and saw a bastard smiling cockily.

“Do it again, Y/N.” Ran grinned at you as he held on tighter on your hand. “I’m a big baby but your baby.”

“Let me go!.” your face was beat red as you tried to yank off your hands. Only failing as Ran grabbed your arms causing you to fall on top of him.

“I like you, Y/N” Ran hugged you tightly while you were a blushing mess on top of him. “So let's just stay like this for a while.”

And you did.

Being with Ran isn’t so bad after all.

Rindou Haitani

If there’s one thing you’re proud of, it’s the skill you have for coloring people’s hair.

You like dyeing your hair, your friend’s hair, your cousins, and to just anyone who asks for your help. So it was no surprise when Rindou asked you to help him in doing his highlights.

Of course you can’t say no. Not because he is a Haitani but because you actually like his presence. When you’re around him, everything seems more calm and peaceful.

Despite being a menace around Roppongi, you and Rindou are actually good friends. You’ve known each other when he saved your ass around a group of guys who tried to harass you. And although he was stoic to you at first, he was able to ease up to you because of your caring nature.

After all, you recognized him as Rindou Haitani and not “Ran’s younger brother”. And he appreciated you for it.

So now here you are in their living room. Currently finished in dyeing Rindou’s hair.

“And there you have it. We just have to wait for an hour or so before washing it.” You tidied all the mess up as Ran sat and observed you. “By the way, why won’t you let me dye Ran’s hair?”

He raised an eyebrow upon your question. “Because he can’t have you.” Your eyes widened from his statement. Rindou, realizing what he just said, covered it up with an excuse. “I mean, I want him to dye his own hair and let it look shit. If he wants someone to dye his hair properly, he can go to the salon.”

You laughed at his statement. Well, he can actually crack up jokes once in a while if he loosens up his strict facade. “Oh Rindou, we also need to buy an extra conditioner.”

You looked up and saw the man with closed eyes. Deciding that you don’t want to disturb his sleep, you sat quietly beside him and observed him.

Rindou is already handsome with his glasses. But you realized that he looks much cuter without one.

He just looks good in anything.

You traced the bridge of his nose as you admired his features. “You know what? I actually might have feelings for you.” you muttered softly as you smiled.

“Let’s go out on a date then.” Rindou opened his eyes as he looked at you. Your lips a few inches away from his.

“Rindou!!!” You sat up straight. “I thought you were-”

“Asleep? Well I’m not.” he smiled at you as reached out for your hand. “But I meant it Y/N. I like you, and I want us to go on a date.” Rindou looked at you, hoping for an immediate response.

He does like you. After all, you were the only person who he was able to open up to other than Ran.

“Okay.” You smiled as you brushed your thumb at the top of his hand.

Rindou caressed your cheeks. Leaning in and going for a kiss.

“Ohh. Can I join?” a teasing voice butted in. Causing you two to look at the tall man who’s leaning in the doorframe. “I mean can I join Y/N’s dye party? Just continue that later.”

“Ran, get out!” Rindou shouted as he pointed at the door to his brother.

Well, things quickly escalated with the brothers.

As well as your relationship with Rindou.

3K notes · View notes

smhalltheurlsaretaken · 3 years

Note

Do you think the Jedi had any flaws that you think should have been fixed? People like to say that the Jedi order should have been more loving and should have shown more emotion. And I also heard someone say that they were kinda flawed in a way at the time of the Clone Wars. Some I'm just wondering what do you think? Should the Jedi have changed things a little bit, or were they perfect the way they were? (Fyi I love the Jedi so please don't take this the wrong way)

This is gonna be a little repetitive because I have several asks along those lines, but if I started sorting them out I'd never get to answering them. (And don't worry, I'm not taking it the wrong way at all! Even if we disagreed, you'd have to be downright rude for me to be annoyed by an ask.) I kind of already stated my position on this a while back but it doesn't hurt to clarify again, so here:

I don't think the Jedi were 'perfect' the way they were, because there's no such thing as perfection in nature. I can make a list of flaws that individual Jedi had, if you want (Quinlan is rude, loves to show off, is a pain to work with; Ki-Adi comes off as haughty, he can be ruthless; Qui-Gon is impatient, stubborn, somewhat short-sighted; Jocasta is proud; Obi-Wan has a blind spot the size of Anakin and can be a bastard; Yoda can be too vague, Ahsoka too caught up in her own emotions, Mace and Adi too serious - etc. etc.) but that really wouldn't be the point, because the question is more regarding the Order's flaws.

"And I also heard someone say that they were kinda flawed in a way at the time of the Clone Wars"

Lucky you if that's all you've heard, ah ah, because the criticism is usually much more specific and often in terrible faith. But 'kinda flawed'? Sure the Jedi were. Everybody is kinda flawed, and every culture is kinda flawed, that's never up for discussion. But what those specific flaws are and how you fix them in a society is really the question when dealing with large groups, and we don't have the answer.

My own take is: no, I don't really think they should have 'changed things a bit.' As in: I don't see one or more big specific problems within the Order that are easily identified and fixed, and that, if fixed, would have made the Galaxy an unquestionably better place with no drawbacks.

Were they 'too cold' and needed to show more warmth? That's horribly subjective, but here's my (very outdated) masterlist where I delve a lot into Jedi culture in general, and here is a series specifically showing how free they are with physical displays of emotions, for example. Not loving enough is definitely not a Jedi problem!

Is it bad to take children away? It probably creates a lot of messy situations that I'm happy to explore, but it is ultimately the parents' choice + there is plenty of indication that the children are not entirely cut off from their birth heritage, and Lucas explicitly said that being raised communally was the best thing for anyone aspiring to the Jedi path. We have no indication that making the Order into a sort of boarding school would have been better.

Should they have been less involved in politics? They seem to get shut down more often than not. Should they have been more involved in politics? There's not even a consensus on that.

Should they have been spending all their time freeing slaves? Now that's not fair, because there is no realistic way for them to be doing that.

Were they too strict on Anakin, or not enough?

Should they allow for open romantic relationships? (which they more or less already do, because we have no indication that they explicitly forbid romantic connections and enforce that ban, just that they highly encourage their Knights not to commit to a relationship when they're already committed to the Order - can't be married to two different things, essentially) We have absolutely no indication that this would have a positive effect on the Order, or even that it's what most Jedi would want.

For the most part we don't even know the exact policies, Code, traditions and rules of the Order, so we have very little to go on from for practical things they could 'fix.'

Sure I'll admit that it was messed up to have Padawans fight a war, or to essentially torture Bane to get him to tell where he had hidden the holocron with the list of Force-sensitives kids, ignoring the irl and in-universe context around these things. Sure the war wasn't as clear cut as the good Republic and the bad Separatists. Sure the Jedi did unethical things throughout canon (little known tidbit: as did every single character in Star Wars, which isn't to say that criticism is meaningless, but that it always need to take context into account).

Maybe the Council should be bigger. Maybe they should have worked with non-Jedi more.

But I don't see big systemic issues in the workings or the culture Order that directly stem from malice, incompetence or unforgivable ignorance, and that could or should have been 'fixed' for the Jedi to be 'less flawed' as a group, because that's a big claim to make about any culture, even a fictional one.

People get to tear Satine to shreds for removing violence from Mandalorian culture after a civil war that shattered a planet, glassed their homeworld and decimated them, because she dared to go against the Mando beliefs and traditions, so I similarly reserve the right to defend that the Jedi's lifestyle seems to work well for them, and that we are never shown or told what precisely it is that they should have done better, and how they should have done that. I don't see that there are any drastic changes they would have needed to make to deserve to be recognized as good. As for changing just a little bit, there would be no consensus on what those little changes should be, because little problems are subjective, hard to determine, and every time you fix one little problem, you create a new little problem, and there'll never be a way around that.

tldr; Sure, the Jedi are plenty flawed, y'know, like people, but I don't think we can pinpoint one or more precise things they should have changed to be 'better,' being flawed doesn't in any way negate all the considerable good they did, and it's kind of a moot point anyway, because they all died through no fault of their own (Palpatine couldn't have given have a kriff about their philosophy, beyond the part where they were against murder and wouldn't let him be king of the whole universe, the bastards - Order 66 would have happened regardless of the rules about attachment). Basically, I can make a list of shitty things individual Jedi did or said, but nah, I wouldn't change the Order.

#ask #long post #meta #my meta #the order's flaws #anonymous #jedi order #jedi culture #jedi council #jedi positivity #obi-wan kenobi #mace windu #yoda #anakin skywalker #sheev palpatine #darth sidious #order 66 #sw talk

151 notes · View notes

ruby-whistler · 3 years

Text

There are three types of misinterpretation of c!Dream in my opinion; and by that I mean anyone's take ever, whether it's a c!Dream anti or a c!Dream apologist or a c!Dream enthusiast. That's right, I'm making an essay about how in my mind everyone is wrong. This is how I lead debates please don't unfollow me-

1. misunderstanding or overdramatizing evidence

c!Dream apologists; g-guys. I'm not saying he isn't traumatized, but look. I really used to believe he was just everyone's victim and hurt and mentally unstable, and I'm not saying he isn't at all, but I changed my mind because I feel like the evidence doesn't,, point that way at all. Your emotions are valid, but your takes are very removed from what the rest of the fandom thinks because you take little hints and try to make them into some big angsty point within canon.

The evidence we have proves he is more ruthless than anything; even the content creator says that. He doesn't say why he does progressively more ruthless things, and he does say it's for his ideals and out of good intentions, but he doesn't say anything about him being hurt into doing it.

I'm not saying he isn't hurt. But making analysis of an entire character based on something that is barely supported by canon isn't the way I roll and I feel like it's one of the reason why people assume all c!Dream apologist are going to woobify the character,, because some of them really do that.

I don't mind portraying him as hurt by what's happened in canon, because that is a completely safe conclusion, but jumping to the victim side of the scale seems a little bit like painting a completely different picture than what actual canon says. (Note: talking about pre-Pandora c!Dream here.)

There is tragedy in someone being driven by the environment, circumstances and themselves deeper and deeper into corruption, but it feels like by only considering that the entire character is limited to one side of the argument.

I like to also see the side of him that will hurt people because he thinks he has to, because he wants to succeed above all, the side that will ruthlessly murder and manipulate and be calculative and clever and even self-destructive about it because he believes that'll get him towards his ultimately selfless goal.

That's my morally complex bastard.

A lot of people seem to be mistaking or ignoring that for the sake of saying he is just... hurt and that that is an explanation of his actions, and even though they don't use it as an excuse, it feels a little cheap.

And here we come to the core of the problem: an emotional vs. rational explanation for the character's actions.

Because the thing is, with enough evidence, you will see that nearly (we'll get to that in a bit) everything he does can be explained rationally. Everything is connected, everything is the most logical and efficient and merciless route straight from point A to point B, because c!Dream is fascinatingly smart when you look deeper into it.

He knows what he's doing. He knows his actions are awful, and he doesn't care - not because he would be some evil person, but because his mindsets cause him to justify such things, and mindsets are more complicated than feelings.

There is a lot to explore in that direction of the character, but that is material for another essay.

In short, people seem to enjoy removing all of his agency in favor of explaining his actions emotionally rather than from a rational standpoint which results in inaccurate analysis.

Do I think it is completely understandable he attacked L'Manberg?

Absolutely.

Do I think c!Wilbur painted him as a villain to benefit his own power?

Yes.

Do I think he utilized the villain persona as an intimidation tactic and often went overkill with no regard for anything but accomplishing his goals and that he slowly became more and more willing to do bad things of his own accord because he became determined and distrusting of the world to the point of committing horrible actions?

100%.

Analysing that part of the character is the most interesting part, when you consider it - and an important one as well.

2. ignoring evidence

c!Dream antis; please. Stop saying he doesn't care or explaining his actions with obsession or assigning him personality traits or motives that he literally doesn't have in order to demonize him I beg of you.

It's so many basic and easily debunkable assumptions that can be explained with what we actually know of his motives. People will ignore both canon and the authors' words to paint him as some monster with no nuance, which he is not.

We only know so much about him, but people will ignore and deny even the little bit we have for the sake of making him the literal personification of evil and erasing the fact that he is a complex and human character. Just accept he can be accurately analysed beyond hate and let people do it if you don't want to do so yourself.

3. assuming the evidence we have is everything you need to determine a final approach and that nothing outside of the presented evidence exists when certain details prove otherwise

c!Dream enthusiasts; this was the only and biggest problem I've had since being introduced to much more rational interpretations of the character - which is emotions, and one of the biggest reasons why c!Dream gets dehumanized in the first place; the fact that we have little to no showcase or explanation of them in canon.

You see, c!Dream is a reserved character. He likes withholding his plans, withholding his feelings and information from the world.

However, since all we can really get out of watching his actions alone is the rational side (and that is deliberate by both the writer and the character, narratively and personality-wise) people slowly begin to assume there is no emotional side to his actions at all.

Which I find,, untrue. Between the people who erase the rational side of the character and those who erase the emotional side, there is little middle ground, but I don't really find either of them right either.

Because neither would be an accurate representation; just because he doesn't actively showcase his feelings doesn't mean he doesn't have them, and the few inconsistencies that are too small a detail for us to put everything together show that he does have an inner emotional world beyond what we see.

The character does work beyond what we know, and expecting that everything can be explained purely by rationality because that's all we see of him seems a little bit jumping the gun.

It leads to a less person-like view of a character who in reality simply doesn't like showing people the way he feels, and I don't really find that fair to him. It is best to accept there are things we can't say for sure, or to say an emotional interpretation can also be valid at times.

It is both important not to deny him agency and not to deny him the ability to be genuinely hurt by others or changed by his environment.

Both of these can coexist, especially in

the correct interpretation

Ok this is a joke.

I have literally no idea. I'm just throwing stuff at the wall and seeing what sticks - he confuses me beyond belief. The only person who knows about both the emotional and rational side of the character enough to have their interpretation unquestioned is cc!Dream - but when we do try to find answers, it is important for us as well that we do not ignore any aspects or possible aspects of the character, because that is the only way to get useful results out of our analysis.

Sorry this was crit of basically every take about the character I have ever seen but I needed to get my thoughts out.

#dream smp #c!dream #ask to tag as crit #long post #idk i'm big on the c!dream pos #but woobification & dehumanization & demonization are #all equally a problem in the fandom #with the character

192 notes · View notes

nat-20s · 3 years

Text

Part 5 of Wonderful! Au. *boyband voice* banter’s back alright!

Also on AO3

~*~

Jon: Hello everyone, and welcome back to our regular format. If my husband being horribly soppy-

Martin:-hey!-

Jon: -turned you off the how, this should be a refreshing return to formula, though I can’t guarantee there won’t be further horrible soppiness-

Martin, performatively under his breath: -most people thought it was charming-

Jon: -as that tends to happen when one is recording with the love of their life. If last week’s episode is the only one that you like, too bad, I’m back in full form, and should be at least through the rest of the season.

Martin: This show doesn’t have seasons? Due to the whole lack of a narrative thing?

Jon: I was referring to spring.

Martin: Oh, right.

[A beat passes.]

Martin, flatly: Oh. Great goof hon.

Jon, smug: Thank you.

Jon, sincere: Also, before we get properly started, I did want to actually thank everyone who sent well wishes.

M artin: Yes! We got positively inundated with lovely messages, it definitely brightened both of our days. I would even say it was wonderful.

[Jon groans.]

Jon: I am..not proud of the energy we’ve created for this episode so far, and we haven’t even hit the small wonders. Speaking of, do you have a small wonder this week?

Martin: Mine’s bad action movies.

Jon: Really? I had no idea you even liked them, let alone consider them wonderful.

Martin: Okay, so, saying I like them is a bit of a misnomer? It’s more that I like what they can do more than the movies themselves?

Jon: Elaborate?

Martin: It probably comes as a surprise to no one that I’ve tried my hand at a fair amount of mindfulness and mediation techniques. I’ve found poetry and journaling have been helpful for actually processing life events and whatnot, but when it comes to giving your brain a hard wipe and reset, nothing is half as quick and effective as a shitty shoot-em-up. Somethings about 2 hours of cartoonish, pg-13 violence held together with the absolute loosest of plots brings me to a state of mental blankness that would make a monk jealous.

Jon: How have I never witnessed you doing this? When are you sneaking off to go see Micheal Tarantino or who ever films?

M artin: That’s definitely not the right name.

Jon: Martin, dear, I don’t care. And you’re dodging the question.

Martin, fond: I’m not dodging anything. Since apparently we’re getting into it, you haven’t caught me cavorting with a movie involving more explosions than character development lately because I haven’t been. Haven’t needed it, in recent years. Turns out when you’re not crushingly lonely and working a literal nightmare of job, there’s less of a drive to try and escape your own thoughts. Shocker, I know. Still, to anyone out there that feels like their brain is on fire, go try watching a fast and furious. Any of ‘em, it doesn’t matter. Or even better, Chronicles of Riddick. I can’t remember a single goddamn detail of that movie, which makes it perfect for what I’m talking about.

Jon: I have the strong feeling that th is is a “mileage may vary” scenario.

Martin: Well, yeah, that’s this whole podcast. Plus, I imagine that movies like this would cause more stress to someone who cares about, say, world-building or rules consistency.

Jon: I wonder who you could possibly be referring to.

Martin: It’s a purely hypothetical person, love, don’t worry about it. Any small wonders?

Jon: Yes! Particularly relevant to the last week, my small wonder is stripping the sheets from your bed when it’s been too long between washes.

Martin: How very specific. M ost people would just say ‘clean sheets’.

Jon: Well, for one, I’m fairly certain that we’ve already covered clean sheets-

Martin: Shit, have we? Thank god other people keep track of this, otherwise this show would be unbearably repetitive.

Jon: Christ, yes. I typically check the website a good three times while prepping, and every about one out of those three times I find I’m trying to do an topic we did 30 episodes again. Anyway, um, it’s just nice, I think. When you’ve been too busy or sick or away for awhile, tossing the sheets in the wash makes a room instantly seem nicer. Of all the chores out there, this one, at least for me, has the highest reward to effort ratio.

Martin: Hard agree. Especially when the y have that slight funk of having been around to long, getting rid of that is such a relief. Speaking of, we need to change our sheets soon.

Jon: We can do it after the episode. Who goes first this week?

Martin: Considering last week was only me talking, I’m gonna say it’s you.

Jon: Alright, then. My first thing this week is Martin K. Blackwood.

Martin: Absolutely not!

Jon: Oh, you can do a whole episode on me, but I can’t do one little segment on my husband, whom I love very dearly?

Martin: Not while I’m sat here, no!

Jon: So you’re saying you don’t want me to tell the internet that your resolve to be kind even in the face of indescribable cruelty is one of the mot breathtaking things I’ve ever witnessed, or how I find it incredibly endearing when you get so emotional that your voice comes out as a squeak, or even that, on a more base level, you’re very physically attractive, and I could lose entire days thinking about your arms alone?

Martin, audibly blushing, voice the aforementioned squeak: Oh my god, Jon!

Jon, laughing: Then it’s probably for the best that my actual first thing is best friends.

Martin, peaking the audio levels: Oh you absolute bastard! Do you enjoy this? Do you get some sort of perverse sense of entertainment from riling me up?

Jon: Oh, don’t you start. As if you’re not as bad as I am. Maybe even worse.

Martin: That’s not…

Jon: Yes?

Martin: Okay. Maybe it’s slightly true. Really, what is romance for if not flustering your partner with compliments?

Jon, teasing: I certainly can’t think of anything.

Martin: Hush, you.

Jon: No, I don’t think I will.

Martin: Fine. I suppose you can tell our delightful audience about the power of friendship or whatever.

Jon: I would’ve assumed more enthusiasm, considering this segment is still, indirectly, about you.

Martin: In what way?

Jon: In the way that, to the shock of all, you’re my best friend.

Martin, pleased: Oh, is that what I am?

Jon, exasperated: Yes, dearest husband, I wouldn’t have married you otherwise. Though, upon reflection, I knew you were my best friend before I knew I held romantic feelings for you.

Martin: When was that?

Jon, letting out a breath that vibrates his lips: God it was...2016? I think it might’ve literally been the day after you told me about your CV.

Martin: That early? Huh. I wonder if that’s what people were picking up when they said they we were close.

Jon: What people?

Martin: I don’t know specifically, that’s just what Daisy told me.

Jon: Daisy? When the hell-?

Martin: It...was when she was interrogating me? And, because sometimes I have to be a parody of myself, pretty much my only take away from that interrogation was “people think me and Jon are close”.

Jon: Well then. It’s not like they were wrong.

Martin, smug: No, no they weren’t.

Martin, sincere: And you’re my best friend, too.

Jon: I was certainly hoping that you’re in this relationship for more than my good looks and incredible fortune, both in the monetary and luck sense.

Martin: You say that as if you aren’t good looking, which we all know is patently untrue.

Jon: You’re biased. You’d say I was good looking if I were nothing more than some primordial ooze with thoughts about its station.

Martin: I’m being completely objective. If you were primordial ooze with thoughts above its station, you’d be the cutest ooze of them all. That’s just scientific fact.

Jon: I’m starting to think we might be insufferable.

Martin: Starting to? Might be?

Jon:…

[Jon clears his throat]

Jon: What I find wonderful about the concept of best friends is, to me, they’re the closest thing real life has to soulmates. I don’t personally believe that there’s some..grand mystic force that drives people to be tied together in the manner that narrative typical soulmates are, and if there was I don’t think it would necessarily be the kind of emotional, heartfelt bond one would hope for, but I do believe that there’s individuals that get to know one another, and because of that knowledge, they chose to stick with one another. It doesn’t have to be a romantic, which is why I say best friend rather than specifically ‘spouse’, but I would argue that the basis of a strong romance like you and I have, is very much rooted in that connection. A true best friendship is an equal partnership, and there’s a sense of..matched sensibilities and understanding that can be utterly incandescent when it happens.

I also think that having one or more best friends makes living life on a day to day basis both better and just flat easier. The dark times aren’t as dark, and the bright times shine even more. I know from my own personal experience there are events that I..that I don’t know how I would’ve made it through without you. Hell, last week my..recovery period would’ve taken much longer if you hadn’t been there.

It’s an amazing thing to have someone to share things with, both triumphs and burdens. Um, also, according to Dictionary.com, the term best friends in English has been around since the 1200s. Something about that delights me, like, yes, we’ve had this casual way of referring to a Favorite Person for roughly 800 years. That makes it a hold-out from early Middle English. I dunno, it’s one of those things that make me feel overall very charmed by humanity.

Martin, audibly smiling: No, yeah, hard agree.

Jon: What’s that look for?

Martin: Nothing. Just. I love you a whole lot, you know that?

Jon, voice soft: I may have heard you say that once or twice. Per hour.

Martin: Only that often? I really need to be more diligent about that.

[There’s a bet of silence, presumably where they’re making doe eyes at each other.]

Jon: What’s your first thing?

Martin: Oh, um, right. Rats!

Jon: The expression or the animal?

Martin: Jon, have you ever once heard me say “rats” as an expression? Obviously I’m referring to the animal.

Jon: Ah. Should’ve known, considering that what, a third?, of all your segments have been on animals.

Martin: Yeah? And? You got a problem with critters? With creatures? With lil guys?

Jon, laughing: No, no, it’s very sweet. I’m just surprised you never became a vet.

Martin: Oh believe me, I wanted to. But then I learned that it was not, in fact, a job composed entirely of getting paid to play with other people’s pets.

Jon: You had that job, though, didn’t you? I thought I remembered you mentioning a month long stint at a doggie day care.

Martin, sighing dreamily: Best job I ever had. Too bad that place was shut down after it was revealed to be a money laundering front.

Jon: Good lord.

Jon: Martin did you...did you know it was a money laundering front at the time?

Martin:

Martin: Would it make you feel better if I said no?

Jon: Martin!

Martin: I figured it out like a week in, but, like, who cares? The pay was decent and the floor was super easy to clean, which is very much a plus for even a front of a doggie day care.

Jon: That’s...rather a lot. How about instead of getting into that any further, you tell me about rodents.

Martin: I would love to. But first, we have a shoutout!

Jon: Ooo, a shoutout. Does it specify who should read?

Martin: Let me check. It...does...not…..

...

Jon: Martin?

[A beat.]

Martin: Right! Sorry, um. This week’s shoutout is from Tim, to Danny. It says, “Danny! My favorite person who shares genetic material with me! I wanted to say thank you for your podcast obsession from 4 months ago, and specifically for telling me about these marrieds. They’ve gotten me through many a dull hour at the publishing house. Also, with this shoutout, I’ve officially gotten ahead on the Superior [Last Name Redacted] Brother scoreboard, so suck it. Love you lots, and looking forward to your visit next month, Tim.”

Jon: Oh.

Jon: Um. That’s very..sweet? I think? Mostly?

Martin: Yeah, I’d say so. Uh. We have to take a quick break because, uh, someone is..at our front door! Be back with you all in, from your side of things, just a moment.

#wonderful! au #jonmartin #jon sims #martin blackwood #>:3 #shoutouts are their versions of jumbotrons btw

196 notes · View notes

chordwrites · 3 years

Text

Run Away Part 3

Part 1 Previous

Villain prepared tea for Hero, the newspaper long since tossed aside, though Villain assumed the contents were not forgotten. They were keenly aware of Hero watching every movement they made. Villain maintained a blasé expression, but inside, they concentrated on not spilling anything while considering what Hero thought of their previous selves. They had been hoping for visible horror, or some banter, at least. But Hero hadn’t said or done much of anything since they’d revealed their past.

“Can I ask you something?” Hero asked. There it was.

“You may, though I can’t guarantee I’ll have an answer for you.” Finally.

“You mentioned that you frequently hop from identity to identity. You know, when things get ‘too hard’ or ‘boring.’ So why are you here?”

Disappointing. “I don’t consider taking down the League to be either. In fact, I think it’ll be quite fun.”

“Okay, then what about before? Wasn’t it boring to fight someone so much weaker than you?” Hero spoke the words bitterly, as if angry at themself. Villain didn’t know why, but it annoyed them. Regardless, they’d tried to be moderately forthcoming since taking in Hero, so they might as well continue, for now. Villain handed Hero their tea.

“It’s not boring. It’s different,” Villain said, “Fighting you... it isn’t the rush I usually crave. Since taking on this new identity, I’ve never once experienced that familiar adrenaline coursing through my veins like electricity, or the high of coming out victor after destroying my opponent’s will to fight.” Villain shook their head, staring down at the palms of their hands.

“Typically,” they continued, “that would mean that this identity was a dud. An utter bore. Yet I never felt the urge to move on to the next thing. I felt... content when I was with you. And that’s something I’d never had in all my years of villainy.”

Hero stared again, but their emotions were kept less in-check. Stunned, Villain thought. Understandable. They were a bit stunned themself. “Now it’s your turn. Tell me more about your situation. Why is the League after you?”

“Because they’re evil.”

“Elaborate.” Villain waved their hand expectantly, and Hero clenched their mug tightly.

“It’s all about money and power for them. The League gets funding based on how many people they save and how terrible their fate would’ve been without the League. That means the bastards are actually better off the worst things are. They want, need, all of it. More natural disasters. More threats. More crime.”

Villain hummed dismissively. “I feel that’s common knowledge. Us villains all know it, at least. I really can’t imagine that knowing about their vested interests is enough to put you on their blacklist. And I’m sure I’ve seen a few protests against the way the League operates before.”

“Did you know that most of those protestors have disappeared? The League doesn’t just hope for bad things to happen. They create them. I found evidence of villains being bribed, supers being hired to create “natural” disaster, anyone who questions the League vanishing. Countries and regions who didn’t let the League have jurisdiction saw a sudden spike in crime and disasters until they joined. They’ve orchestrated events that have killed thousands, millions even if you consider it all together. The League might as well be a supervillain organization.”

“And I’m guessing they only want heroes who are fully supportive of this noble plight. Or at least unaware of it. And they definitely don’t want someone with good public relations to speak out against them. Even in your training days, you were well-loved, weren’t you? I suppose it explains them sending you off to die.”

“They’re trying to get rid of me in the way that best suits their image.” Hero’s face was all scrunched up like they’d just smelled something horrible, and Villain couldn’t help but agree with the sentiment.

“That also means that they might get desperate now that you’ve disappeared from their reach. They might be more direct.” Villain could protect Hero here. They knew they could. But there were other factors to consider. “Do you have anyone close to you that they could use against you? Family? Friends?”

“None, besides you. They keep us pretty isolated.”

Villain scowled. Of course they’d kept Hero isolated all this time. Then, it processed. Besides me. Hero considered them to be someone close to them. How sad.

“This isn’t a situation you should be smiling about,” Hero said.

“Pardon? I’m not smiling, am I?” Villain touched their face. They were.

“And it’s not your usual evil smile. It’s sort of... soft, which somehow makes it creepier.”

“Hm, a creepier smile. Maybe I should use it more often, then.”

“You should.”

Villain turned their back on Hero and pretended to clean dishes.

#writing #hero x villain #heroes and villains #flash fiction #snippet #continuation #long post

171 notes · View notes

jae-daddy · 3 years

Text

Duff (7)

im jaebum au series

one / two / three / four / five / six / seven / eight / nine masterlist

pairing: im jaebum x reader genre: angst, smut, cheating, CEO! plot: you are the duff and guys use you to get close to your best friend, Heather, and turns out Jaebum is no exception, but as time goes on the tension between you and your best friend’s unofficial boyfriend grows a/n: if ya like send something in or leave a comment! I love reading them! next part is going to be interesting, hope yall liked the bit of spice. not edited, hope y’all enjoy it! <3

“Stop,” Jaebum ordered.

Every nerve in your body told you to disobey and continue to walk out of his office, but your feet stopped. Your back faced him as your eyes settled on the plain dull wall in front of you, save for a painting that wasn’t much interesting.

It wasn’t truly his office yet. Jaebum hadn’t added any personal touches to the cold space in the past month of him acting Director. He remained detached from the office, employees and the job as much as he could.

Except for you, Jaebum always seemed to be looking for a way to get under your skin. Find new ways to bother you, to annoy you. It was almost as if he enjoyed seeing you fume at him with anger. Your face red with fury brought him peace and happiness. It made that easy cocky smirk on his lips grow each time his melting eyes met your raging ones.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he said.

You didn’t turn around instantly. Instead, you took a deep breath in and turned with a vacant expression, “I’m sorry, sir. Was there something you needed?”

Jaebum shifted in the chair, annoyed. Once again, he wasn’t seated in the big boss chair on the other side of the desk. He chose one of the two placed on the other side instead, with papers splayed out in front of him, on the desk.

Your eyes went to the mess and your lips pursed. Your hands itched by your side to sort through the junk and organise everything in a proper fashion. But Jaebum knew what he was doing, he knew exactly where each paper was. He worked like a genius; chaotic and completely self-relied.

You looked back at him to find his lips drawn into a thin line, his brows drawn together as he stared up at you. For the first time, Im Jaebum did not have the cocky smile that normally danced on his lips. His eyes didn’t watch you as if he understood every thought that zoomed through your head.

He looked at you utterly lost, distraught and confused.

“Don’t try to play this game, y/n. Stop that, tell me what’s wrong, why have you been avoiding me.”

He was almost begging at this point, and for the first time in the past week, you smiled. It wasn’t a kind smile, it was cruel and relished his misery. Your tight posture relaxed as you tilted your head holding his troubled gaze as you sang, almost taunting, “I have no idea what you are talking about. I have not been avoiding you, sir.”

Jaebum rose out of his seat and towered over you in an instant. He gritted, “Stop calling me that.”

“Calling you what, sir?”

Jaebum’s eyes darkened as he took another step towards you. You didn’t move away, you held your ground, your head tilting back to meet his stormy gaze. His jaw ticked as he sneered, “Do you enjoy this? Do you find pleasure in torturing me like this?”

“Torturing you?” You tsked, the smirk on your face growing, hiding the pounding heartbeat in your ears. You turned walking away before spinning on your red-bottom heels, “If someone were to hear, they’d think I was actually hurting you, sir.”

“Stop it!” He spat, the anger leaving him. All Jaebum was left with was desperateness as he continued, “Stop calling me sir, y/n. I’m trying to have a conversation with you as a friend--”

“A friend?” You chuckled, cutting him off. “We are not friends.”

“So we’re back to this again?”

“Yes, we are.” It was your turn to sneer at him as you took a step towards him. All coolness evaded your body and all you felt was red and hot. Anger sparked through every core of your body, your eyes shone with distaste, as you looked down your nose at him, “I will never be friends with a loathsome disgusting dog like you.”

“Dog?” Jaebum snickered at the weak insult, but the embers of the fire began lighting up inside him as he watched your lips draw into a scowl.

“Yes, a dog. A terrible, horrible cheating dog.”

“Is that the best you can do?” Jaebum jeered raising his eyebrows mockingly. “Call me a dog and say nonsense?”

“I am not speaking nonsense, you bastard,” you spat. Jaebum flinched at your words, but you continued, the fire blazing inside you. “I saw you and that woman in your office that day. Don’t think I will forget that easily. I know how disgusting you are.”

“What day--”

“Or do you mean which day-” you cut him off, stepping closer to him. The poison hissing from your tongue, “You have flirted with any woman that you ever crossed path with; at the club, at work! It doesn’t matter to you that you have a girlfriend, and you might think it’s okay, but it is not. I would never do that to my friend. I won’t sit back and hold my tongue-”

“Then why haven’t you done something about it if I’m so bad,” Jaebum cut you off this time. The easy smile returned on his lips, dancing with malice as he looked down at you as if you were a crazy lady talking about stars and the end of the world. “If you can’t differentiate between being friendly with others and flirting, then that’s on you, not on me. It’s not my fault you're an emotionless closed off mumpsimus who doesn’t know that people can simply just be nice to one to another--”

“Yes!” You scoffed up at him. “Because almost fucking a lady on your desk is just being friendly.”

“I was not about to fuck her!”

“Oh yeah?” You nodded, sarcastic.

“I was not cheating. I was not flirting with her.”

“Then what were you doing, Jaebum?” Your eyes were blazing with so much rage you felt as if it would consume you. “Do you hug everyone on your desk? How did Paul like it when you dry-humped him on the desk and called it a friendly hug?”

“Oh, fuck off,” Jaebum groaned, “It was just a hug and she slipped! I was helping her get steady!”

“And I just happened to walk in that exact moment. What a crazy coincidence!”

“If you’re so certain, why haven’t you told anyone then?” Jaebum questioned, after a deep breath. “You tell Heather everything, why haven’t you told her this yet?”

“She already knows what I think of you.”

Jaebum tried not to flinch at your words, “But have you told her about what you apparently saw last week in this office?”

Your cheeks painted red, as you tore your eyes away from him. You stared at the wicked desk instead, “No.”

“Why not?” He drawled, as he took a step closer towards you.

Your chest swelled with resentment as you refused to look at him and the victorious smile you knew was on his lips. You bit your tongue before you answered, each word cutting your throat, “I was not sure.”

“What was that?” He crooned, you could hear his smile. You felt the chuckle in his cool breath as it brushed your forehead. When you didn’t reply, Jaebum placed a finger under your chin and lifted your eyes to meet his.

His haunting gaze still shone with anger, but his lips painted the picture of the easy ocean after a stormy night.

You wanted to smack that smile from his lips. You wanted to erase the victory bubbling inside of him. You met his eyes, not looking way. Your mind repeating one thought over and over again.

I hate you.

It was unfair to blame all these emotions on Im Jaebum when it was not all his doing. You knew Jaebum wasn’t a flirt by choice, but by nature. He was like a golden retriever who couldn’t help but spread love wherever he went. And he didn’t just get friendly with any woman around his age, but with old grandmas, mothers, other males and grandfathers too. It was just who he was.

You knew you were being harsh, you knew it. But you couldn’t back down.

You would rather blame it on Jaebum. You would rather pretend that it was all his fault that you hadn’t been smiling, sleeping or eating this past week. You didn’t want to give that asshole this power over you; you didn’t want to admit the power he still had over you.

Jaebum’s eyes searched yours and the storm in them vanished. His eyes held yours, his fingers on your chin holding you in place as he searched through your mind. And just like always, he finally found the answer. You saw the recognition shine in his eyes; he knew this wasn’t about him.

You knew it wasn’t this that you had you so removed from life. But it wasn’t like Jaebum didn’t do anything wrong too. You still didn’t know what had happened between Jaebum and that lady, or more like, what would have happened had you not walked in at that moment.

“I walked in too early, Im Jaebum,” you exhaled, the venom dancing on your tongue as you met his cool gaze. Your eyes burned bright once again in accusation, “If I had walked in a second later, I would have caught you red-handed.”

“Red-handed?” Jaebum repeated, the smile easy on his lips, the raise of his eyebrows graceful, “Red-handed doing what exactly?”

You glared at him, “I would have found you about to fuck her.”

Jaebum chuckled in reply. The burn of his fingers easing on your chin. He opened his eyes, a new kind of darkness in his eyes; his lips smirking with secrecy.

His fingers lingered on your chin, his thumb grazing your lower lip, his eyes falling for a moment. Your heart stopped when you saw him lean in closer, but then he stopped.

His fingers were a whisper against your skin. It lightly traced down your throat, over your faint collarbones and over your shoulders. His fingertips grazed down your back smoothly, his touch burning through the flimsy white shirt you wore. His fingers stopped on your lower back, before both his hands landed on your hips. His fingers spreading over the curve, searing you with its touch.

His hands gently nudged you backwards, making you take a step back. Jaebum’s steps followed you, making you walk backwards until you felt the edge of the dark wood on your lower back.

Jaebum’s eyes never left yours as he eased you onto the desk. Your legs parted effortlessly as Jaebum slipped between them; your skirt bunching up as it rose up your thigh. Jaebum’s hands finally left your body and your chest expanded.

The ghost of his touch burned you with its sudden coldness.

A strong arm reached behind you on the right. His left hand fell on your knees, slowly, dangerously moving up.

You weren’t breathing; you couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t move under his touch.

You couldn’t move under his heated gaze.

Jaebum’s eyes did not leave yours as he leaned in closer. His dark eyes flickering to your lips, a knowing small smile on his lips as your chest heaved. You gulped nervously as his lips drew closer, so close you could taste his breath on your tongue.

You closed your eyes as you felt him lean in closer. His tortuously slow left hand deliciously moved higher, his fingertips gracing the inside of your thighs.

His lips touched you, barely missing your lips. A small sigh left you, and you felt a smile blossom on his soft lips. Jaebum placed another kiss, lower, and then another. Another soft sigh fell from your lips when his lips kissed your neck; you felt his lips drag upwards towards your ear.

His fingertips dug into your thighs, as he gently blew into your ear. You held your breath to stop the whimper from escaping you. You felt so hot; you were sure if Jaebum's fingers as much as travelled any bit further he would be able to feel your body reacting to him.

You could feel your core tangled and a mess of nerves, and a heartbeat down below, in anticipation.

“I have barely touched you and you’re such a beautiful little mess, love,” Jaebum whispered into your ear. You closed your eyes swallowing the painful truth in his words and the shame climbing over your body. “Trust me, if I ever wanted to fuck someone you wouldn’t have to guess. You would know.”

You believed him. If something more was happening that day, you would have known.

You felt him move away, but you kept your eyes closed. Your breath leaving you shakingly as you tried to regain control over yourself. You could feel him look at you; you felt his gaze burn you as he took you in.

You wondered what he saw. How much could he see?

Could he see your cheeks deep with a blush? Your lips wet with anticipation? Your chest heaving? Your breath shattering? All because of him and his nearness, how much could he see... what did he think of it...

Could he see your mind racing with thoughts of him? Racing with all that could happen next? His lips on yours, your moans filling up the quiet office as he groaned, filling you up, spreading you wide open on his desk.

Could he see how you were trying to control yourself?

You opened your eyes and wished you hadn’t. You would rather see them clouded with rage, even unfiltered lust would be better than the softness you found. The honey brown in his eyes met your gaze with desire, want and longing.

It was disgusting.

It was terrible.

It was horrifying how Im Jaebum could make you feel when he was looking at you like that. As if his hands burned beside him, begging to touch you. As if he would cease to exist if he did not touch you, kiss you, hold you. As if you were all he could ever want in the world, but you were the only thing he could never have.

You would rather take animalistic lust over that.

You tore your eyes away from him. Jaebum took a step back and you hopped off the desk. You straightened your skirt avoiding his face. But Im Jaebum wasn’t looking at you as well, his gaze focused on the floor but his mind somewhere far away.

“I won’t worry Heather with this,” you croaked out. Jaebum nodded absent-mindedly, and you began walking out. You were almost to the door when you stopped. You bit your lip, unsure, but decided to say it anyway, “Don’t take it personally, Jaebum. It’s not you, I’ve just been in a mood and caught up with something else. I- I guess, that’s why you thought I was avoiding you.”

“Oh,” Jaebum replied, softly. You turned around to find him giving you all his attention, “Is there something I can do to help you?”

You shook your head with a small smile, “No.”

The moment you had been dreading finally arrived that afternoon.

“Good evening, Meridian Firm,” you answered, automatically. You hated answering phone calls, you would rather email.

“Hello, I’m calling from Spring Industries-”

You knew. You knew.

“I’m calling on behalf of our CEO Park Jinyoung,” the lady on the other spoke, and you tried to control your breathing. “He would like a meeting with Director Im.”

“I will let Director Im know.”

“Can we pencil a meeting date right now, and you can confirm it later? My boss really wants an answer,” the lady on the side spoke sounding more humane.

You knew what she meant by that too. You knew how he got when he didn't get what he wanted.

“Of course,” you pulled out the calendar planner looking for the next empty date, “How is next week Thursday at five-thirty in the evening?”

“Hmm, let me check,” you heard a few clicks on the other side, and prayed it wouldn’t match. “Oh, perfect! Hope to hear from you soon!”

“Alright, goodbye,” you say before hanging up. You sighed, tired, as you run your fingers through your hair.

You knew this moment was coming, but you hadn't expected it to come so soon. You weren’t sure if you were ready. Your stomach churned at the thought of seeing him again.

“Hey, you alright?”

You looked up to find Im Jaebum standing by your desk with concerned eyes. You nodded, smiling slightly at how adorable he looked worried, “I’m good.”

“I...” he started but trailed off. “Let’s go get dinner.”

You were about to say no when he added, “Heather and Bam are already on their way. And Heather said she wants you there.”

You sighed, exhausted, “Alright.”

“Oh, and uh,” you paused, biting your lips, breathless. “The CEO of Spring Industries wants to meet you next week Thursday at five-thirty, how should I reply?”

“Am I free?” You nodded in reply. Jaebum just shrugged, nonchalant, “Cool, tell them yes.”

You nodded once again, doom already clouding over you.

263 notes · View notes

littlemisspascal · 3 years

Text

Death and an Angel part 8

Helmetless + Death!Din and Cupid F!Reader

Summary: “You have become the only one in the universe who can claim to uniquely know him.”

Rating: T

Word Count: 2,002

Warnings: fluffy fluff, some plot, swearing, reunions, soft!Din, Kuiil thinks Cupid is a fool, Kuiil’s backstory from canon, surprisingly little angst (it shocked me too)

Author Note: I want to apologize to those on the tag list not getting notified. I have no idea why Tumblr isn’t cooperating and I feel horrible about it. I love each and every one of you who spares time to read this segment/series and I hope you all have a wonderful holiday season.

Links to Part 1 and Part 7 and Part 9

Cross-posted on AO3.

Photo Inspiration:

The next morning you find Kuiil outside welding together two pieces of metal at his workbench. IG-11 tends to the small herd of blurrg the Ugnaught keeps in a large pen, feeding the two-legged creatures their breakfast. Although you were initially wary, the former assassin droid has been nothing but kind to you, if not a little obsessive about checking the bandage on your head every few hours.

“IG was explicitly warned by Death what would happen if your health declined in his absence,” Kuiil had informed you the previous evening when your attempt to stop the droid’s incessant fretting failed.

“He’s such a worrywart,” you muttered as IG-11 scanned your temperature, heart skipping a beat as it always does when you think about Din’s protective nature. There’s something unbelievably attractive about him making threats when it came to your wellbeing.

“A worrywart who left his gunship in my yard.” Kuiil aimed a sharp look towards the entrance of his home, as if he could see the Razor Crest from this distance.

You snorted a laugh at him calling Arvala-7’s desert landscape a yard of all designations, only for the rest of his sentence to register a beat later, making your eyebrows rise to your hairline. “Wait, what? He seriously left the Crest here? Why would he do that?”

“The quicker his trip to Nevarro, the quicker he returns to your side,” was the response, accompanied with a shrewd look implying you were a fool for asking such a question.

Your Ugnaught host reminds you of a grandfather figure; a bit prickly and blunt at times, but ultimately kindhearted and selfless at his core, wanting only what’s best for those in his care. Between his insistence you keep resting in his bed and IG-11’s nurse programming, you no longer wonder why Din chose to leave you with them, thoroughly convinced you’re receiving better around-the-clock care than most people experience in medcenters.

Kuiil turns when you approach him, pushing his goggles back to the top of his cap as he clicks off the welding torch, eyes giving you a cursory once-over. You feel better than you had yesterday, both headache and dizziness gone, and he must sense that since his head dips in a firm nod, satisfied with what he sees.

“Good morning,” you greet, smiling.

“Morning,” he replies. His expression turns repentant, eyebrows lowering. “My apologies for waking you, but I could not let these repairs remain unfinished.”

“It’s okay.” You tilt your head up towards the sky, enjoying the warmth of the early sunshine after spending the entire previous day cooped inside his home. “I’m supposed to report back to headquarters later today, so I needed to be up anyways.”

Hearing the words out loud grounds the upcoming meeting in reality. It’s really happening. Hours from now, you're going to have to tell your bosses everything, now including your new title as Din’s soulmate. Maker, you can just imagine Hess staring you down with those beady, rat-like eyes of his, asking question after question about you and Din.

And if Hess was serious before on the comlink—and you highly doubt the bastard’s ever told a joke in his life—then there is also the very real prospect of Moff Gideon being there to take part in your interrogation.

“Are you alright?” Kuiil asks, noticing how pale you’ve become. Without waiting for an answer, he ushers you over to a nearby stool. You sit, mouth opening to reassure him you’re fine, only to be startled by the knowing glint in his eyes. “I recognize your anxious face from my years as an indentured servant. You fear punishment from your superiors.”

Your eyes widen, stomach suddenly feeling hollow. “You were a servant?”

“From my birth until my hundredth year, yes.” The nauseous feeling intensifies. You knew Ugnaughts typically lived up to two-hundred years, meaning Kuiil had lived half of his lifetime in servitude. “Earning my freedom did not occur without harsh discipline.”

You draw in a shaky breath at that. It feels wrong, being worried about meeting with your bosses when there are others, such as Kuiil, who have endured far worse horrors.

“Those with power think it comes from weapons and control over others through means of fear and violence,” he continues, returning the welding torch to its proper placement in his toolbox. “True power comes from the strength of one’s hope. It allows you to believe in a better future for yourself and so long as you cling to it, no enemy can break your spirit.”

His rumbling baritone washes over you, calming the worst of your worries. You press your thumb against your soulmate marking, a nervous habit that has developed since you first saw it yesterday. You’ve become addicted to the warmth the mark emanates as it reassures you you’re not hallucinating its appearance.

“I just keep thinking about what their reactions are going to be when I tell them about me and him being together,” you confess, feeling shy as you duck your chin to avoid eye contact.

“Are you embarrassed of Death being your soulmate?”

Your head snaps back up, shocked by his bluntness. “What? No. Din means everything to me.”

The words seem too loud against the quiet atmosphere of the planet. They reverberate off seemingly every surface—the desert rocks, the Razor Crest’s steel paneling and the metal roof on Kuiil’s home—echoing for miles in every direction. Despite knowing that isn’t truly possible, you are unable to stop yourself from wincing.

“You gave Death a name?” Kuiil’s bafflement is visible in the way his head tilts, looking at you in a way that is reminiscent of Omera’s puzzled expression back on Sorgan.

"I didn’t.” You shake your head, for some reason feeling the need to clarify, “He named himself. It’s just something for me to call him when we’re around mortals.”

“I have known Death many decades now,” he begins, sounding no less confused despite your explanation. “He’s quite...particular about the mortal traditions he chooses to adopt, such as appearing as a human male and piloting a gunship.”

“Yeah, I know how picky he can be,” you say slowly, not understanding what his point is.

“Not once has he ever felt compelled to use a mortal name because, in his opinion, names establish ties."

“What does that mean?”

“Without a name, he is but another stranger amongst trillions of beings, unrecognized and unmissed,” Kuiil explains, and you find yourself leaning forward, elbows on your knees. “By giving you a name to call him by, he has tied himself to you in a way he has not permitted anyone else. You have become the only one in the universe who can claim you uniquely know him.”

“Huh.” You let out a long exhale, suddenly aware of your heartbeat pounding deafeningly in your eardrums as it begins to sink in just how monumental the gift of Din’s name truly is. “Well how bout that.”

And the shrewd look from last night makes a reappearance, conveying once again how foolish he thinks you are.

“I have spoken.”

People tend to forget a Cupid’s bow is first and foremost a weapon of defense. Comprised of wood from a Brylark tree, sinew from orbaks, and a thin layer of a mudhorn’s horn, it can be compared to Din’s armor in that it is virtually indestructible. A Cupid carries two types of arrows: one made from kyber crystal meant to lighten one’s emotions or, on rare occasions, induce lust, and the other one made from a kyber crystal coated in ichor, meant to inflict harm against enemies. Once a target is hit, the effects are instantaneous and the arrow vanishes in a burst of sparkling light, regenerating in your quiver seconds later.

You underwent rigorous training to learn how to become a master of archery. Your bow is bound to your Cupid abilities, capable of being summoned to your aid and dismissed with a mere thought. You were taught how to control your breathing, learning that the expanding and contracting of your chest cavity during a shot can ruin your aim. Missing a target is one of the worst mistakes a Cupid can commit, meaning you must make every single shot count.

All that to say, Cupids are fierce archers as much as they are dedicated matchmakers.

They are also dangerous when startled unexpectedly.

You’re in the middle of tidying up Kuiil’s tiny kitchen space, a task you had insisted upon after he’d served you a delicious lunch, humming to yourself quietly as you scrub at the dishes when hands wrap around your waist, pulling you backwards towards someone’s chest.

You react completely on instinct, teleporting out of their hold and reappearing on the other side of the room, bow ready with an ichor arrow aimed directly at the assailant. It is only when the meager light of the nearby lantern reflects off their beskar helmet do you realize who you’re facing.

Immediately you lower and dismiss your weapon before pressing a hand over your chest where your heart is fluttering like a trapped bird. “I’m so sorry, Din,” you tell him, limbs trembling as it sinks in just how close you were to shooting him. “Maker, you scared me and—and I thought I—well, I don’t know what I was thinking, just that I had to—”

In between blinks he appears in front of you, yanking his helmet off with such ferocity your words catch in your throat. You have only the slightest of seconds to glimpse the arousal darkening his brown eyes before he slips a hand behind your neck and crashes your lips together.

He kisses you as if you’re gravity and he’ll float away if he dares to spare a moment to breathe, sending a current of warmth surging through your body. You thought the mere touch of his hand had been life-altering, but it is a mere candle compared to the wildfire his lips spark. Your eyes fall shut as you kiss back with an equal amount of fervency, bringing him closer by wrapping your arms around his neck, grinning at the groan the action spurs from deep within his chest.

There is the heavy thud of his helmet striking the ground before he’s wrapping his hand around your waist, slotting a thigh between your legs to ensure every inch of your bodies are touching. Your cheeks rub against the scratchiness of his facial scruff, an invigorating burn you think you could easily become addicted to.

An embarrassingly high-pitched whine escapes your lips when he pulls away a minute later. He’s never looked more attractive, mouth swollen and hair disarrayed from your roaming fingers. His hands cup your face, and it occurs to you as he swipes his thumbs over your cheekbones he isn’t wearing his gloves.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, sounding slightly hoarser than usual and out of breath. His gaze roams your face, like he’s trying to re-familiarize himself with your features after the time spent apart. “Especially with your bow. When you pointed that arrow at me, there was this...fierceness in your eyes I’ve never seen before. Fuck, angel, you looked so gorgeous.”

“Seriously?” you say, raising an incredulous eyebrow, because of-kriffing-course he’d be the one being in the whole universe who is turned on by a weapon being pointed at him.

“Seriously.” He leans in, forehead pressing against yours, noses brushing. It’s hard to focus when he’s this close, like you’ve again entered that separate realm where it’s just you and him.

“Din, look,” you whisper, fighting the magnetic pull insisting you kiss him again long enough to show him your marked hand. “It’s real. I’m yours and you’re mine.”

The smile that stretches across his face when he sees it is nothing short of breathtaking.

“Angel,” he says, tilting your head so the words are spoken right against your lips. “I’ve wanted to hear you say those words ever since I gave you my name.”

Tag List: @leilei-draws, @theocatkov, @vintagesaph, @stardust-and-starlight, @adrieunor, @remmyswritings, @gallowsjoker, @rhiannon-russo, @randomness501, @sylphene, @softly-sad, @maytheglitter, @melobee, @rogertaylorsfalsettogivesmehives, @eleinemk, @captain-jebi, @aerynwrites, @promiscuoussatan, @stilllivindue2spite, @coaaster, @lin-djarin, @becauseican2, @kay2304, @odelia-d32, @nicotinebirds

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

334 notes · View notes

hillnerd · 3 years

Text

Waking up- Chapter 6 - Touch

AO3 FFN Beginning of story | Previous Chapter word count 9064

Here is the second part of chapter 5- I split them because it was going LONG. So it's still Hermione's POV. Previously in ‘Waking Up’:

Hermione gets ready for going out to a club & is anxious

She got ready w/ Fleur, Ginny, Angelina - Bonds w/ Fleur

Ron's not up for club either, but he does not reveal why

The entire group consists of the Weasley siblings (minus Percy), Lee, Angelina, Hermione, harry

It's a jolly good time despite ptsd acting up for Hermione- Until it's NOT a good time, and George grabs a mic and is threatening people with his wand.

Chapter warnings: cursing, intense emotions, drunkenness', fighting, reference to a dead character, somewhat explicit sex scene

CHAPTER 6- TOUCH

Panic seared through every nerve in her body. Ron was willfully standing in front of a sparking wand, and no one could do a thing to stop it - not legally anyway.

Ron stared the wand down, saying something she couldn’t hear from across the crowded bar, and the mic couldn’t pick up. She clawed her way out from the corner booth, waking Harry in the process, but by the time she’d crawled out from behind the table George’s wand arm had slowly fallen to his side.

“Fine... Fucking fine…” George’s voice echoed across the bar. “You’re all a bunch of useless arseholes.”

With that, George handed over the mic, escorted away with a bunch of people applauding as the music resumed. Ron, Angelina and Lee followed as the bouncer manhandled George then bodily dropped him off in a chair next to Ginny.

“When the tab is paid, get his arse out of here,” the bouncer growled at Ron before pointing a meaty finger at George. “He’s fucking banned.”

George handed over a wad of cash to Lee, who went to pay the tab.

All eyes turned to George.

“What?” He had a grin on his face, but his tone was sharp and eyes dead. “Did I say something that wasn’t true?”

“You said a lot, alright,” Angelina muttered. “You’re lucky Ron convinced them not to call Muggle law enforcement on you.”

George shot Ron a vicious scowl, but didn’t say anything. Ron had a carefully blank look on his face.

Lee returned from the bar, the bouncer behind him.

“Time we get going.”

They began their journey back to the hotel, pairing off, with the more sober partners keeping the more inebriated of their group from walking into traffic. Harry was ridiculously unsteady on his feet. Ginny couldn’t keep him upright and he nearly tripped over a passerby. Ron took over for Ginny, and Harry was very maudlin in his drunkenness.

“You’re my best friend,” he pronounced to Ron. “In the whole world, you know that?”

“Yep, thanks Harry.”

“You’re special. I know you sometimes don’t think you are, but you are. That locket didn’t know a thing.”

Hermione nearly tripped over, hearing the locket mentioned. She wasn’t sure what Harry meant, though. How could the locket have known anything? It was just an evil locket that drained people’s happiness and made them angry. It hadn’t shown any signs of sentience. Neither had the cup.

“Shut up, Harry” warned Ron, giving Harry a jostle.

“And sorry I love your sister. I couldn’t help it!”

She supposed the mention of the locket was just as nonsensical as everything else Harry was saying. She pulled Ron’s jacket that went nearly to her knees closer around herself, trying to ignore the ringing in her ears.

Ginny gave a laugh at Harry’s antics. She had drunk significantly more than Hermione, but somehow she wasn’t unsteady on her feet at all. Despite her amusement over Harry, Ginny’s eyes kept darting to George.

“Maybe we could dart into that corner shop, they’ll have booze,” George said, making a beeline that was curtailed by Ron leaving Harry at a lamppost and standing in his way.

“Let’s just get back to your hotel.”

“Fuck off, Ron! No one asked you!”

George had enough to drink to make him mean, and enough to nearly trip into the gutter. Ron caught him before he fell.

George bodily shrugged him off.

Hermione kept attempting to catch eyes with Ron, but he was too busy determinedly watching George and keeping Harry from walking into drainpipes.

They finally reached George’s hotel. He keyed them into his room then immediately sat on the bed, arms crossed as he glared out the window.

Ron deposited the unsteady Harry at the table, and Hermione happily took the other seat, her headache now piercing.

“I want to get out of here,” said Ginny as she leaned against a wall.

“Anyone sober enough to Apparate?” asked Angelina.

“I’m sober. I can side-along each of you where you need to go” said Ron, though he looked a bit peaky. “Then I can come back to stay with George.”

“I can stay here a bit longer to hang with George,” Lee said, a genial smile on his face that ignored the series of blanches after his comment. Not even the most drunk of them was under the impression he was staying just to hang out instead of monitor.

“I can stay too,” volunteered Angelina.

Ron shook his head. “You don’t have to. I know you both have work tomorrow.”

“That’s kind of you, Ron,” Angelina answered for them.

“Oh yeah, Ronnie the fucking hero” George groused, a mean look on his face.

“Damn, George,” said Lee with a shake of his head.

“I don’t need tending, and I don’t need you lot talking about me like I’m not here! I’m fine!”

“Look,” Ron began. “We both know—”

“Just what is it we both know?” asked George, rising from his bed.

“That you’re being an arsehole,” Ginny supplied, and no one corrected her.

“Well sorry I’m not all fun and fucking rainbows, everyone!” spat George, throwing his hands in the air.

“No one’s asking for that!” Ron protested. “We just don’t want you pissed and getting in trouble.” “Oh give it a fucking rest,” George snapped, poking Ron in the chest. Tents and rain and friends fighting filled Hermione’s mind. Her wand. She needed her wand! Hermione rifled through her beaded bag trying to find it.

“I’m tired of having you in my face all the time! I’ve never wanted you around before, so why the fuck would you think I want you around now? It’s like you enjoy being an annoying arsehole.”

“Oh yeah. I’m here for the enjoyment of it,” Ron said with a snort. “I get to keep my drunk older brother from getting arrested, keep him from eating shit in the gutter, and get treated like shit for it. A perfect evening, really.”

“I never asked for your help! I don’t want it!”

“Well someone has to pick up the pieces when you keep fucking up.”

“For fuck’s sake, get out of my room!” George bellowed, looking perilously close to punching Ron.

“No! I’m not letting you fuck up again!” Ron yelled back, red in the face. “After everything, it doesn’t matter if you’re an arse, family’s—”

Hermione’s hands shook as she scraped through the contents of her bag, unable to find her wand in the cavernous space. Useless. She was useless.

“Fuck off!” George seethed, looking like a cornered animal.

“No! After everything, family’s all we have and we have to be there for one another!”

“Like you were for Fred when he got fucking crushed to death?” George jeered. An explosion of protestations burst forth, but he ignored them all, eyes glinting in a mix of anger and anguish. He let out a horrible rough sound that bordered between laughter and crying.

Hermione desperately scrabbled in her bag, fingers grazing everything but her damned wand!

“Why couldn’t that wall have fallen a few feet to the left and taken you out instead of Fred?”

There was a crash and Harry’s chair was on the floor he had stood up so abruptly.

“Don’t you talk to him like that!’ Harry cried out, moving toward George, his wand pulled. Angelina and Lee quickly got in his way, as Ron stood still, and his expression shuddered.

Something like regret flickered across George’s face. He took a step towards his brother, but gave a yell as an orange curse hit him and he stumbled back into the bathroom.

All faces turned to the source of the spell. There stood Ginny, cold fury burning in her eyes. She gave another wave of her wand that slammed the door shut.

“Ginny, you can’t do magic outside of school yet!” Hermione squealed, fingers finally grasping her wand, though far too late to be of any help.

“Worth it,” replied Ginny. Hermione couldn’t very well disagree. She’d never thought she could dislike George Weasley so much. “Let’s get out of here. I can’t stand to look at him.”

Ron gave a sigh, and leaned his head against the bathroom door frame. “I guess I need to get you all home, then I’ll come back and— ”

“No, I’ll stay here.” Angelina put a staying hand up. “He’s been a right bastard to you and you don’t have to put up with it.”

“But—”

“We’ve got him,” said Lee, putting a hand on Ron’s shoulder. Ron opened his mouth as if to argue, then gave a sigh.

“And you’ll make sure he doesn’t do anything?”

They nodded.

“Then… Then I’ll get everyone home.”

One by one Ron apparated Harry, Ginny and Hermione home - he was too tired to apparate multiple people at a time reliably. They silently walked from their apparition point to the Burrow’s living room.

Ron busied himself pouring glasses of water for them, while the rest of them watched. Harry looked baleful, but was unable to say anything and Ginny was silently crying. This left Hermione, and she felt woefully underqualified to even begin to breach the hurt Ron had faced. The one solace was that Harry and Ginny seemed equally unable to come up with comforting words to say to Ron.

Ron saved Harry and Ginny the trouble by dismissing them to bed. Harry tottled over to Ron and gave him a long-lasting hug mumbling something about him being Harry’s brother. Ginny gave him a hug about the middle as well, before helping the still wobbly Harry up the stairs to bed.

Ron let out a sigh and collapsed on the couch.

“Next time I’m tempted to go out, remind me of tonight,” he muttered, throwing an arm across his face. “Especially if there’s George and drinking involved…”

His breathing shook the tiniest bit.

She’d never been very good at emotions. Her own would take over and she’d let her temper turn her into a veritable harpy. Other people’s emotions were just as difficult for her to handle. She worked so hard to learn to say the right thing, find what could soothe others, to apply logic and repeat the process. It never seemed to work, though. She couldn’t think of anyone she’d successfully talked down or comforted in her life. Not really…

She settled beside him and put her head on his chest.

“I know you’re upset…” she began. Acknowledging feelings was usually a good place to begin. That’s the sort of thing Ron might say, right? “But you have to know George didn’t mean any of that.”

He ruefully shook his head. “He did… It’s fine, though. Nothing I didn’t know.”

“He was just trying to get rid of you by being cruel. He was drunk and being spiteful,” she said with certainty.

“Doesn’t mean he was lying.”

“You handled this all really well, you know.”

“Huh?” he asked, removing his arm from over his eyes.

“You deescalated things really well, watched after us, and kept your calm… It was rather impressive.”

“Yeah, well I’ve had my fair share of dealing with dramatic wizards and witches,” he said with a hint of a smile, giving her a bit of a nudge.

“Oh we’ve never been that bad!” she said with a laugh.

He cocked his head at her. “The birds.”

“Well… Well, you were being a right arse,” she said, poking him in the middle.

“See? I’m quite used to the drama,” he said with a chuckle, draping his arm around her.

She bit her lip. “I wasn’t that bad was I?”

“You were pretty terrible,” he said with a laugh. “But that’s alright. I like how fierce and crazy you are.”

“Crazy?!”

“Oh sorry, I mean how calm and undramatic you are.” He schooled his face into mock solemnity.

“You’re terrible,” she huffed.

“Yeah, but you love it,” he said, shooting her that boyish grin of his. It was her favorite feature of his. Well, that and his blue eyes. And his bright hair. And his freckles. And his wide shoulders. And his long legs. And his big hands. And his arse.

With that thought, she sat up and put a hand to his face and his eyebrows shot up into his fringe.

“I can’t help it, but I really do,” she said, leaning in to give him a quick kiss on the nose. “You know… Harry pointed out that you fancy me.”

“He’s a terrible drunk.”

“I told him I quite fancy you as well.”

“I would hope so, seeing as you’re my girlfriend.” His arm hugged her close to his side. “And even if he’s a terrible drunk, he’s right. I do fancy you. Rather hard not to, what with you being all brilliant and beautiful.”

Her eyes fell to his lips. This wasn’t the ideal place to kiss, in his family’s living room where anyone could walk in on them… but he’d called her beautiful and he was being so perfect. She didn’t want him to think about George again either.

She maneuvered herself until she was on top of him, knees on either side of his hips. One of his hands wove through her curls, the other doing a little trail down her side, a gesture that was growing more and more familiar each time they snogged. A hot neediness fed her movements. She moaned and leaned into him when she was stopped. His hands cupped her cheeks and slowly moved her face away from his.

“We’re in the living room,” he murmured.

“It’s late - so late that no one will know. Just snog me!” she whispered.

“Are you still sauced?” he laughed.

“Do I have to be ‘sauced’ to want to kiss you with a tiny bit of tongue?”

“Well I’d hope not, but any sober person should know this house always has someone up and in our business…”

“I’m sober now,” she told him frankly, feeling the slightest tinges of a hangover, but otherwise feeling very much herself. She gave a sigh and extricated herself from him. “You have a point about the lack of privacy, but I’ll have you know it’s highly unfair to call me beautiful and not allow me to snog you a bit.”

“Oh is that all it takes?” He had a pleased grin on his face.

“Well it’s definitely not your stellar personality,” she said with a teasing smile of her own.

“Of course not. It’s my gentlemanly ways.”

He bowed very low and she gave a much-too-loud laugh as he took her hand. He leaned down, blue eyes gleaming into hers, then gave her knuckle a lick.

“You’re disgusting!”

“You wanted a tiny bit of tongue, so I gave you tongue!” he grinned, before dimming the lights and leading her up the stairs.

They stopped in front of Ginny’s bedroom and touched foreheads.

“I know tonight was… was difficult,” she said in a low voice, “but when it wasn’t… I really did have a good time with you.”

He shifted his head and kissed her forehead.

“I did too,” he murmured, giving her a soft smile. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” she whispered, putting her hand on the handle to turn it when it slipped in her grasp. She tried again, but it wouldn’t budge. “She must have forgotten and locked it...”

She gave a light knock on the door, and Ginny didn’t answer. There was nothing but silence.

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding…”

“What?” Hermione asked, trying the door again.

Ron did a few spells and gave a huff.

“Harry’s in there,” he said, disgusted.

“What? No… They wouldn’t… Would they?”

“I’d bet fifty galleons Harry’s in that bloody room.”

“Oh…” she replied, putting her fingers to her pursed lips. “I suppose I’ll stay in Percy’s room then?”

“Nah, you can come to bed with me.”

He walked towards the stairs before coming to a stop.

“Okay…” he said, turning on his heels, a panicked look on his face. “I didn’t mean to assume— You definitely don’t need to—”

“Yes!” she whispered back.

Ron looked only mildly less panicked at her answer.

“Yes like you’re agreeing you don’t need to come with, or yes like—”

“Yes, like I’ll stay with you.”

A thrill ran through her as they smiled at one another, the bit of moonlight shining through the window illuminating them. As they went up the stairs together excitement flooded her thoughts of sharing a room overnight with Ron. She’d shared the tent with him, but they’d never truly been alone all night, and they definitely hadn’t been under the scrutiny of Mr and Mrs Weasley.

She’d never been one for rule breaking. Well, that wasn’t quite true. Okay, she had to admit she broke rules rather regularly. She might have broken about a thousand rules in the last year alone, but that was different— it was for a just cause that would help everyone. In this case it was purely breaking rules for her own happiness. The rush of it made her feel the same peace she’d had at the club.

The moment they got to Ron’s room and saw Harry’s empty camp bed she approached Ron to kiss him. Only a meter away, he let out a large yawn before going to his drawers.

“Here you go,” he said, handing her an oversized orange shirt. It had the Cannons logo on it and was soft to the touch from so many wearings. She’d seen him wear it probably a thousand times. It was rather sweet that he’d thought of pajamas for her, but disappointment began to well in her. She wasn’t sure what she’d hoped for, but something closer to their activities at the shed was what she’d imagined. “Do you need some shorts or something for the bottoms?”

“No, I think your shirt will do,” she said as she held it up and realized it went halfway down her legs.

“Right,” he said with a grin, “Well, I can step out while you change.”

“You can stay here,” she said. She felt a fluttering in her stomach as his eyes shot back to hers.

“Oh, erm… Alright,” he said, his pink tongue darting out to lick his lips. “Right! Yeah…”

He turned about, head pointed up towards the low ceiling.

She let out a nervous giggle and changed out of her dress into the dress-length shirt. She did a silencing charm on the room, for good measure.

“You can turn around now.”

He turned around and looked at her with a soft smile.

“Nice to see you supporting the Cannons!” His eyes fasted on the logo with a growing grin before his eyes went wide and met hers. She looked down and realized it was very apparent she wasn’t wearing a bra in the thin shirt. He went back to his drawers and found a pair of pajama trousers for himself.

“Do you need me to turn around for you to change?” she asked.

“Up to you, really,” he said with a shrug, beginning to unbutton his shirt. She chose to watch him from the bed, enjoying how a tinge of red blossomed across his cheeks and ears. As he finally got to his belt and jeans he turned himself around.

She liked watching him like this. She’d never had the chance to unabashedly watch him before. They’d changed clothes on the run, but it had always been practical fast movements. She liked looking at his shoulders that were rather wide despite his thinness, and the glorious spattering of freckles that were most concentrated across his shoulders. He pulled the pajama trousers up over his plaid boxers then did a cute little hop to arrange himself. She liked the taper of his waist, and wanted to see if it was as enticing from the front. Watching him made her forget to breathe; forget to do much of anything.

She wasn’t sure when she’d stood from the bed, but her feet made a beeline to him. As soon as he turned she surged forth, that same neediness from the sofa fueling her movements. She jumped straight up into his arms making him let out a deep ‘oompf!’ She worried for a moment that she might have hurt him, jumping on him as she did, but reassurance came as he sighed into their kiss. They moved against each other in the middle of the room, the lamp casting shadows across the orange room creating the effect it was on fire.

It was a bit of a messy snog, but she didn’t care as he pulled her into a hard embrace. His tongue traced the inside of her mouth, and she slid both of her hands into his hair, enjoying the feel of his soft strands running through her fingers. They continued to kiss as their feet stumbled back until Ron’s legs hit the bed and the two fell to it with a laugh. The spell she’d done on the bed to widen the bed earlier that day had held up, giving them plenty of room to twine around one another and kiss. She reminded herself to reinforce the hastily done spell later, otherwise they might end up with one of them on the floor— but she decided it was better to put it off and not interrupt a perfect series of kisses.

Since she was about thirteen she’d wondered what kissing Ron Weasley would be like. Her earliest fantasies were delicate and chaste like she’d seen in movies. Later they became more heated and sensuous, but she’d had so little experience with kissing she wasn’t sure what she preferred their kisses to be, really, as long as it was with Ron.

Their first kiss had seared through her as he lifted her up off the ground. The second time he’d been tender and unhurried. She’d stopped counting their kisses, but each time it was perfect, whatever surprise he brought her way.

Now that they were on the bed his lips were soft. He’d started slow, lazily exploring her as if savoring each moment, his kiss a gentle caress that reeled her in, peppering in a tiny nibble here or there.

“Wait,” he murmured sitting up. “You’re sure you’re sober?”

“Yes,” she answered. Her fingers grazed down him, savoring the lean muscles, how very smooth his skin was until the lines she drew reached an errant scar he’d earned over the years. One of his hands began to trail up her hip, just managing to skim underneath the overly large shirt. The pad of his thumb was drawing slow circles that just tickled the bottom of her ribs.

Soft, hungry kisses were travelling down her neck. She moaned as he met the juncture between her shoulder and neck. Through half closed eyes she watched the lamplight make his hair spark with amber and copper and gold. Her fingers played with his hair as that thumb of his kept its path up her shirt, and she felt a molten heat forming within her at the sensation.

Then the hand travelled low again, fingers just skimming the side of her hips and then the elastic of her pants. She let out a sigh and adjusted her hips towards him.

“You can touch me,” she breathed.

He let out a low moan. His long fingers ghosted over her pants until one gave a hesitant stroke over the warmth between her legs. One finger became two as he stroked against her, and arousal began to pool for her in a way she’d never felt before. It was such a small amount of friction, but it made her head spin.

Ron was touching her. She always revered the little touches they shared— his hand on her hip, his forehead touching hers, his hand around her wrist— but this was something wholly new.

The fingers moving against her, combined with his lips sucking on neck, made the heat deliciously build. As he curled his fingers she found the need to pull him in closer. It wasn’t enough! She wanted to feel him on her, not through a wet scrap of fabric.

She let her hands travel from his silky hair down to the elastic of her pants and began to push them down.

He stopped and looked into her eyes with a questioning look. She nodded and he hooked his fingers on them and trailed them down her legs before discarding them.

He gave an appreciative hiss before smiling up at her.

“Fuck me, you’re pretty,” he said under his breath. Her cheeks burned, but not as much as the heat growing inside her as his hands trailed their way back to her. His fingers traced up her legs, just barely pressing their way into her flesh, before resting directly between her legs. He seemed to be looking at her with fascination, and the idea of him looking at her down there suddenly made her nervous. She gently guided his head up to her so they could kiss while his hand continued to explore. She gave a gasp as he managed to find her clit.

He held himself above her with one hand as the other brushed inside her, teasing wetness from her and making her feel light-headed. She guided his hand back up her shirt, to feel his hand graze her breast.

She wanted more of him. She wanted him against her. In a daring move, she hooked her feet behind his hips and crashed his hips into hers.

He let out a startled yell before the bed gave a large lurch and Ron’s left hand that had been bracing him above her went clear through the mattress, sending him rolling off her and crashing to the ground.

The bed gave another shutter, and the bed, which Hermione had spelled to a queen size mattress, gave a spasm before shrinking to its normal twin size.

“Sorry! I should have reinforced that spell! I’m sorry!” she cried out, sitting up to check on Ron. He let out a series of ‘fuck fuck fuck’s under his breath as he slowly got to a crawling position, though not putting much weight on the left hand that had gone through the bed.

“Are you okay?” she asked, putting a hand to his back.

His whole back tensed and he scrunched his eyes closed.

“Ron?” she asked, rubbing his back a bit. “You okay?”

“Don’t,” he said, jerking away and giving a shake of his head.

He gave a hiss as he slowly rotated his left arm and flexed his hand. His shoulders were drawn so high they almost touched his ears before they slumped.

“Is your wrist hurt?”

“Huh?” he dazedly asked, blinking a few times and sitting up. “‘M okay.”

She nodded before grabbing her wand from the nightstand.

“Let me see your wrist.”

He held it to his chest. “Why?”

She gave a roll of her eyes. “To fix it, of course.”

He gave a flex of his hand before sitting up on his feet and slowly extending his wrist to her.

She took hold of it and gingerly weighed it back and forth. “So you landed on it?”

“I guess,” he said unhelpfully.

He held his breath as she held up her wand and did an ‘Episkey’ charm on it.

“Better?” she asked, knowing she’d done it perfectly.

He flexed his wrist and gave her a tight smile. “Yeah, I imagine that did it.”

She felt a flicker of doubt. “It’s better, isn’t it?”

“Course it is. You always do spells perfectly,” he said with a roll of his eyes. She began to frown. He hadn’t answered the question. “Hermione, I’m fine. I just feel a bit off after falling face first onto my manky floor. Who knows what filth I might have landed in. At least it wasn’t Harry’s old pants or something.”

She gave a laugh.

“You should come back to bed.”

“It’ll be a tight fit,” he said, eyeing the small twin.

“Oh yes… Wait! Bring Harry’s camp bed over. I think the spell will last better if we’re merely transforming two beds into one, instead of extending one.”

He grabbed the bed, and removed all the sheets. With a few flicks of her wand she was again in a large queen bed. She realized she was still nude underneath his large shirt, and the lingering arousal hadn’t fully been chased away by his fall.

“Where were we?” she said, rather seductively she thought, which both impressed and surprised her. She’d never been very good at anything remotely close to sexiness, but she’d managed a rather saucy husky tone.

He gave a bit of a gulp and turned off the lamp before joining her in the bed. As her eyes adjusted, the moonlight illuminated them well enough to just be able to make out his features.

She began to kiss him again, trying to rekindle the fire they’d had a moment ago, but he felt stiff and unresponsive.

“Is your wrist still hurting?” she whispered.

“No, I’m fine,” he said, taking a breath before their kiss resumed. He began trailing kisses down her neck and skimming her sides as before, and she tried to feel that same fire. His hands were touching her in the same places, but there was a forced quality to every move and every kiss. Their bodies no longer coaxed and set pace with one another.

His fingers went back to between her legs and poked at all the wrong angles. It felt like he was trying to pick a lock with a pair of chicken drumsticks. He’d always had very short nails, so she was surprised when they seemed to be poking her instead of the pads of his fingers.

Then he stopped kissing her altogether and went lower until his head was even with her pelvis.

She wasn’t entirely comfortable with the idea of him looking down there. She’d barely ever looked down there, but didn’t imagine this could be a very flattering angle. At least it was dark in the room now?

He poked and prodded and she felt thoroughly turned off when one digit poked far too hard to the side of her labia.

“Erm… Maybe a little higher?” she asked, hoping he’d go back to her clit.

She gave a jolt as his nails showed up again. That was even worse! And how was that even possible when they were so short?

She accidentally let out a huff and he gave a sigh.

“This isn’t doing anything for you, is it?”

“It was…” The silence carried on, and she found herself entirely without words.

“It was rubbish,” he supplied.

“No?” she squeaked, biting her lip. He gave a withering look up through his eyebrows. “I’m sorry! It was really good earlier, though!”

He gave a snort. “Yeah I could tell it wasn’t going well when you weren’t as wet anymore…”

She pressed her face into the crook of her elbow to hide her eyes. It had seemed sexy at the time, but him actually saying out loud that she was ‘wet’ was absolutely mortifying.

“It really isn’t a problem,” she mumbled.

“Yeah it is,” he said, laying beside her, elbow on her pillow. He slowly turned her face towards his, blue eyes boring into hers. His eyebrows lifted and a small smile twitched, but not enough to bring out his dimple. “Let’s start again.”

“I don’t know…” she said, not sure she wanted to have him poke at her like that again.

“Let’s try again. If you want me to stop at any point I will.”

She looked into his eyes and saw a glint of determination in them she’d seen before. He made that face when he made the right move in chess, when he was about to save a goal, and when he was about to pull off a powerful spell. When he looked like that, nothing much could go wrong.

She gave a nod. It seemed too absurd to be shy, but she felt it burn through her as his hand cupped her cheek and brought her in for a languorous kiss.

A chasm of intimacy burst open as his lips burned against hers. As she surrendered to his kisses, she became increasingly conscious of his body, hot and hard against hers. His fingers slowly slid down the narrow of her waist, then edged behind and found her bare backside. He moaned into their kiss as he massaged it, almost as if testing the globe in his hand. Whatever awkwardness that had descended on them was gone, and her body molded to his.

With every kiss she felt marked as his, and she grasped his hair again. Only moonlight lit him, but she imagined the riotous color of his hair sunning her as she basked in his attention.

He stroked her between her legs again, this time finding a rhythm that made her hips jolt to meet him. The oversized shirt had ridden up past her breasts, uncomfortably bunching until she impatiently tore the shirt off over her head. He let out a rough groan and his hands and mouth stopped.

He pulled back a bit and stared at her nakedness.

She had the overwhelming impulse to reach for the sheet and cover herself, but resisted it. She held her breath as he silently stared, expression annoyingly enigmatic.

“W-well?” she let out, nerves making her voice pitch up. She was skinny, but still managed to have a bit of a tummy, and her breasts weren’t all that much to talk about, and her hips were too wide, and—

“Hermione,” he breathes out her name. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

She turned her head away. She wasn’t. Then his mouth was on hers again, and hands were exploring her breasts. His kisses trailed to the crook of her neck, to her clavicle then finally down her chest.

“Christ, you’re perfect. Fuck…” he said, almost to himself as he leaned down and took one of her nipples into his mouth, the other hand squeezing and kneading her breast.

He backed away to look at her again. The way he beheld her, she could almost believe she was beautiful and perfect. He had nothing but adoration in his eyes as his lips fell to her body. He trailed down her, as fingers grazed a hot trail, and made desire pool in her.

He went further down and her legs fell open to him. His fingers explored her, but this time they easily found a path that made her moan. He set a rhythm, and experimented with angles. She glanced down to see he was avidly watching her face, like he would a chess board. Eyes on her, he leaned forward.

It began with a tentative lick while a pair of knuckles just grazed her in the right spot. He continued to do this and she threw her head back in a gasp. Then his lips dipped between her legs and began to suck at her clit. She let out a long whimper as he continued to alternate between lapping at her and sucking at her like she was a final meal. Heat and slickness built in her, making her tilt her hips into him, punctuating her gasps with jerks of her hips.

She was on the edge of falling, when he found the perfect rhythm and stayed there. Quick susurrations on her clit, and his fingers just barely grazing inside her, teasing and nearly fucking into her, made the coil inside her finally spring.

A heady ‘don’t stop!’ barely made it out of her lips before she let out a sound like a sob as she came. She felt the spasm of it rip through her, and she clutched the pillow around her as her hips stuttered and followed his mouth, continuing to twist as his fingers slowed down.

She panted and shook her head as her thighs wobbled and finally relaxed, dropping her hips further into the mattress.

“Oh God…” she whimpered. “Fuck… Oh god…”

Her mind had never been more of a void. She was utterly shattered. There was nothing but sensation, still floating in aftershocks.

“You alright?” came a hoarse voice from between her legs.

She let out a rough laugh, then managed to open an eye from between her curls.

“I’m… I just…” she gasped and shuddered a bit.

“Better?” he asked, knowing perfectly well that he’d done amazing.

“Yeah, I imagine that did it,” she panted, mirroring his words from earlier. “I think we ought to thank Harry in the morning.”

“Do you really need to bring up that specky git right now?” he moaned, kissing the inside of her thigh.

“Well, if it weren’t for him taking up Ginny’s room, I wouldn’t have gotten to experience… That!” she said with a shaky gesture.

“Took a bit, but I think I did alright in the end,” he said, a tired grin on his face as he wiped his mouth.

“More than alright!” she proclaimed. She looked further down the bed and saw he was still hard. She was so flushed and buzzing she wasn’t sure she had the ability to blush. “If you want, I can try to return the favor?”

Ron blanched and shifted his hips.

“It’ll go away on its own,” he said with another kiss to her thigh. She didn’t bother masking her confusion. Didn’t teenage boys always want to ‘get off’? Was he so disgusted from going down on her that he didn’t want her touching him?

As if reading her thoughts, he continued. “It’s late and I want to be able to dream about that look on your face when you came. Fuck me, that was the hottest thing ever.”

He kissed her stomach right below her belly button then finally, wobblingly, crawled further up her body before collapsing beside her and kissing her. “I’ll definitely take a rain check though.”

“You sure?”

“I’m knackered. Dreams of me making Hermione Granger cum are all I need,” he hummed as he nuzzled up behind her. “I could get used to this.”

“So could I!” she said with a laugh. “I should clean up.”

“Nooo, just stay a little longer,” he whined, wrapping an arm around her middle and bringing the blankets onto them. Minutes passed. She wiggled in place as his breathing slowed.

“Just need to grab my wand.”

“Hmnnn,” he grunted into her side as she pulled her wand from the side table and did a quick clean up. She Accioed her shirt over, but had no way of putting it on without moving Ron.

“Ron?” she whispered. A small snore erupted in her ear and she sighed.

Dressing in the morning wasn’t the worst thing. Plus, she was draped in Ron, cozied up more intimately than she’d ever imagined she could be. His whole body radiated a comforting warmth, and in that one moment she felt more safe and contented than she had in years. Suddenly words she’d been achingly trying to keep at bay began to bubble up to the surface.

“Ron?”

He continued to snore.

In the safety of the darkness, in his arms, and without having to worry about his reaction, she whispered, “I love you.”

She only got snores in return, but there was a sort of relief in having said it out loud. Any tension left in her body dissipated, and he felt so nice spooned up against her that she felt her eyes drift close for just a moment.

* * *

She woke to the sound of apparition and a, “Ron, your mum is— oh shit! Sorry! Shit!”

Dazedly she shook her head at Harry’s cursing then, horrified, remembered her state of undress. Ron hadn’t forgotten and quickly yanked the quilt up to her nose.

“Shut it, Harry! Do you want Mum to hear you?” Ron hissed.

“Right, sorry!” he said, turning around with his back to them. He stood in only his boxers, hands clutching his clothes from the night before. “Erm… So, your Mum was waking everyone since it’s a bit late, and I fell asleep in Ginny’s room, and your Mum didn’t catch me, but I wanted to let you know in case… Well, in case of this, I guess.”

As he explained, a currant-faced Hermione yanked the Cannons shirt on and looked for her pants.

“And the best way to warn us was to Apparate directly in here to the foot of my bed?” Ron exclaimed, before reaching down to the foot of the bed and handing Hermione her pants.

“Yeah, well I am a mite bit hungover…”

“I’d tell you where some hangover potion is, but I don’t think you deserve it,” Ron replied, giving Hermione a peck on the cheek. “Alright we’re all decent now.”

“I’m really sorry!” said Harry, rubbing at his head. At first it looked like a tick of embarrassment, but he looked haggard enough that a hangover seemed the bigger culprit. “Er, where’s my bed?”

“It’ll be in the chicken coop if you do that again,” answered Ron.

Hermione finally gathered enough wits to grab her dress and say “I’ll meet you later,” and Apparated as silently as she could to Ginny’s room.

“There you are!” Ginny said, pulling on a pair of jeans. “Mum’s trying to get everyone up since it’s so late, and she almost put together where everyone stayed. Did Harry warn you?”

“If by warn me, you mean Apparate into the room and catch me completely starkers, then yes, he did an admirable job!”

“He did what?” Ginny roared with laughter. “Well I’m glad someone had a good time last night!”

“Didn’t you?”

“I mostly kept Harry from getting sick down the side of my bed. Though he did say he loved me, which was quite nice,” she said, a love-sick smile on her face.

Oh.

Hermione still hadn’t heard anything like that from Ron. He hadn’t even wanted her to touch him.

“I can’t believe he Apparated in there,” Ginny continued. “I told him to do it outside the door! We heard Mum bustling about and he was rather panicked at the idea of her being mad with him.”

Hermione nodded.

“So… Starkers?”

“Ginnyyy,” Hermione moaned and hid her face behind her hair.

“You know what? I don’t want to know,” said Ginny, running a brush through her long red hair. “Actually I do, but I think you’ve been through enough embarrassment for one morning. I’m going to go play some Quidditch, if Harry can get his act together. Want to come?”

Avoiding the house seemed a pleasant application of her time, but a quick glance to her book bag shuttered any thought of having a lark. She’d had her fun the night before, though she hadn’t earned it. She’d had enough avoiding. She needed to make plans for her parents.

* * *

It was arduous and barely fruitful, but at least she could say she’d put some thought into it, creating a schedule of places to visit over the next week to gather all the information she might need and who to glean it from. When she looked at the clock it was well past one in the afternoon.

At the Burrow it was unusual to go so late in the day and not be disturbed. She also hadn’t seen Ron since the fiasco that morning. The embarrassment seemed a perfect punishment for being so self indulgent. It was hard to believe she’d let herself fall asleep nude in his bed. She’d been so relaxed and…

“Oh!” Hermione gasped.

She hadn’t remembered to put up her silencing spell. Had she needed it? Had she woken up in the night? Perhaps there was a way to subtly ferret the information from Ron. Maybe she could bring it up at lunch. It was a bit late for it, but people always poked their head in when a meal was being served, so it must not have happened yet.

Despite having much more to do, she had to admit she needed food, or at least some strong tea, if she was to continue.

She went down the stairs to find the kitchen in uncharacteristic disarray. Bowls, trays and cutting boards littered every surface, but at the dining table was a very delicious looking feast of jacket potatoes with every sort of topping one could imagine all arranged in little ramekins.

“I bet there’ll be something to eat,” she heard Ginny’s voice carrying in from outside. She and a windblown Harry came in through the garden door. Her hair hung in an enviable curtain of beachy waves Hermione could never manage without bottles of Sleekeazy's.

“This looks a treat, doesn’t it?” said Ginny, going to sit at the table. “Well, let’s get Mum and Ron here so we can dig in!”

Just then Ron came down the stairs wearing one of Mrs Weasley’s patterned aprons that was dwarfed by his tall frame.

“Did you cook this?” Harry asked, looking impressed.

“Yeah… Mum’s been in her bedroom again,” he replied.

They all knew that meant she was distressed and had holed herself in her bedroom. Those had been coming with fewer and fewer days between them, and Hermione had to wonder what had caused it this morning.

“Why’d you go to such trouble? We have stuff for sandwiches,” Ginny asked, mood forcibly upbeat.

“I was hoping to tempt Mum out of her bedroom.” Ron sat out napkins and cutlery, slapping the metalware onto the table with more force than was necessary.

Harry and Hermione’s eyes met.

“We might want to clean off the kitchen counters, then,” said Ginny with a grin. “Looks a bit like a mad potion maker's laboratory.”

“You clean ‘em off, then, I’m famished.”

“I can clean them off,” Hermione volunteered, hoping to cut the tension, and Harry joined her in the effort, saying, “I’ll help.”

“The food’s all ready now— just leave it!” Ron protested.

“It’ll only take a moment,” said Hermione.

“Plus you didn’t make the mess, Ron did,” Ginny unhelpfully added.

“Oh fine!” growled Ron, and with a swish of his wand the items on the counter rushed their way to the sink with a great clatter, the metal cooking sheets causing a crash that reverberated around the room making everyone jump, and give small yells in succession. “There! Happy? It’s in the sink! Now will you all sit?”

“Merlin, Ron! Did you have to be so loud with it?” Ginny hollered, getting from her seat to get the rest of the dishes by hand. “What's gotten into you?”

“I just want people to eat the bleeding food! It took forever to make and it’s like herding a bramble of gnomes getting you lot to sit down and eat it all at once. No wonder Mum was always upset with us!” Ron groused. “I’m going to get her from upstairs, and when I get back, you lot better be seated at the table and piling up your potatoes!”

He stormed up the stairs, rattling the framed photos on the walls.

“You know, I always thought if one of us was to turn into Mum it’d be me, but I think Ron’s got it cornered. Did you see him, hands on his hip just like her!” Ginny snorted, miming Ron’s akimbo stance, and Hermione gave a reluctant laugh in turn.

As much as his dark mood made her worry, she did enjoy watching Ron doing little domestic things around the house. There was something rather charming seeing the overgrown young man in a flowery apron in a tither about everyone sitting down to eat.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if he takes up knitting soon. What do you think, Harry?”

Ginny looked beyond Hermione and her face fell. Hermione turned to see Harry was sitting stock-still, wand tightly gripped in his hand. Hermione instinctively grabbed her wand. A shiver spread up the back of her head.

“You okay?” Ginny asked.

“Trays were loud, that’s all.” Harry’s eyes weren’t trained on any of them and he gave a stiff sort of shrug.

“Harry…” Ginny began, coming near him, but Harry shook his head.

“M’going outside,” he muttered before bolting out the door.

“Where’s he going?” Ron asked as he emerged from the stairs, looking cross.

“Your banging about with the trays set him off,” Ginny spat, going for the door.

Ron cursed before running ahead of her to the door.

“I’m the one who messed up, I’ll fix it,” he said, taking off his apron. “You two eat up. And Mum was asleep still, so I left her to it. Put some food aside for her and Harry with a warming charm, would you?”

He didn’t wait for a response before going out the door. Ginny silently gathered together full plates for Harry and her mother, getting a third one for Ron, though he hadn’t asked her to.

“I— I can’t do the warming charm… Still sixteen... Hermione would you?”

Hermione dutifully did so, making sure not to look as Ginny wiped at her eyes and gave a sniff. The redhead went to the sink and started furiously scrubbing at some trays.

“Shouldn’t we eat?”

“What’s the point?” Ginny sniped, slamming a dirty set of tongs into the sink. “Ron wants us to all sit down and eat like things are normal, but they aren’t and I don’t know when they will be. Mum’s only up for a few hours at a time, Ron’s the one making food, Harry’s going off from loud noises, and George…” Ginny shook her head. “I just want… I thought after everything we could find some happiness, but it’s just impossible.”

“You did find some happiness earlier, though, didn’t you? Playing Quidditch a bit with Harry?” said Hermione, feeling every inch a fraud trying to buoy anyone's spirits.

Ginny blushed a bit as she began scrubbing a pan. “We didn’t exactly get to the Quidditch part…”

Hermione nodded.

“I suppose that’s all we can do right now, little pieces of happiness like that.”

The two girls cleaned the kitchen in silence until it gleamed. They dutifully ate their lunches, looking to the door every few minutes for the boys to return. Hermione was able to get away with eating very little thanks to Ginny’s distraction, and managed to vanish the contents of her plate before Harry and Ron returned, both looking rather pale, but Harry no longer had a vacant stare on his face. Ginny quickly got him a plate and the two sat to eat their meal while Ron took a plate up to his mother’s room. Hermione waited for him to come back to the table to eat his own meal. He didn’t.

After twenty or so minutes she went up the stairs to find him outside his parent’s bedroom. He sat on the steps to the fifth landing, head on his knees and arms wrapped around his legs. The meal still sat outside his mother’s door, untouched. Hermione made sure to step on every squeaky board to alert him to her presence before sitting down beside him.

“Was your Mum still asleep?”

Ron shook his head before sitting up and rubbing his hands over his face.

“She’s crying and I can’t get her to stop…”

She desperately wanted to know what prompted his mother’s backslide, but didn’t want to push him. Pushing Harry had been disastrous the other day, and she hadn’t the energy to face it from Ron as well. Ron wasn’t like Harry, though. He didn’t bottle things up the same way, and she knew he’d open up and tell her without her having to harangue him for answers.

“George got arrested for breaking his parole,” he said in a low voice, eyes not meeting hers.

“What?! What parole?”

“Night before last he Apparated right on top of the London Tower Bridge. I was up when Kingsley called, so me and Dad went to get George from the Ministry. He got parole. Last night he broke it by pointing his wand in public and someone saw and reported him.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

"I wasn’t going to tell anyone. George gets enough looks, doesn’t he? He’s been such a mess, and Dad and I thought it’d be best Mum knew when things were all settled, but Kingsley Flooed the house to check on George about an hour ago, and well…”

“What a terrible way to find out.”

“Mum’s been holed up in her bedroom since. Harry took Ginny for a fly, so neither of ‘em know yet... I just thought maybe some food and tea would work to coax Mum out, but of course it didn’t.”

“Where’s George now?”

“With Bill, I think. Bill took it on this time.” Ron just shook his head. He stared down at his hand and gave a loud swear.

“Is that the time?” he launched off the steps, barreling past Hermione.

“Where are you going?”

“To finish this fucking buggering pissing piece of shit day!”

She scurried after him, but ended up a floor behind him as his long legs skipped steps with ease. She could hear his mutters all the way down the stairs.

“Need to get some wellies, clean the kitchen…”

“Ginny and I saw to the kitchen” she called after him, hoping to slow him down.

“Oh, fuck me! The paperwork!” he moaned as he reached the last flight of stairs and Apparated with a loud crack. A few seconds later she heard another crack outside the house.

She went to the window and saw Ron sprinting away, paper in one hand, wellies in another, not bothering to look back or give a hint of an explanation.

For a terrible instant she was back next to that riverbank in Wales, rain pummeling her as she begged Ron not to leave her.

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

Little pieces of happiness… She supposed she’d have to live on the little pieces of happiness from the night before, because there weren’t any to be found today.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Next chapter is Ron's POV again. Thanks for reading! If you like this and want to see more please review! :)

I've been terrible at responding, but please know I read them and EVENTUALLY I respond to everyone. :P

BIG THANKS TO @abradystrix FOR BETA-ING!

#fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #romione #fanfic #ron weasley #hermione granger #waking up #chapter 6 #my writing

38 notes · View notes

kiara-w · 3 years

Text

RaccoonInnit. (a Rewind one-shot?)

This a ficlet based on the fanfic Rewind by @a-non-ymouswriter, and exploring what if Tommy and Tubbo were hybrids in the Rewind universe. Especially with Tommy being very clingy because of trauma.

TW (Trigger warning) for emotional abuse, manipulation and mention of self-harm.

Wanna read more?

Apologies for any grammar errors, english is not my first language.

—————

Hybrids.

They come in many shapes and sizes, including different abilities that help with survival. But with every advantage comes a disadvantage, or a necessity to keep living.

And for Tommy Innit, there was one necessity that always made him feel ashamed.

He isn’t clingy, at least not all the time. But when spring is over, and the leaves start to fall, holding on to precious things is necessary to feel at ease and ready for the dangerous seasons. It's something that raccoon hybrids often do, hug their family or friends tightly at a young age to feel protected, and then offer protection when they reach adulthood.

If he could change one thing about his life, it would be that.

********

"You too, huh?" Dream asks awkwardly, Theo's head is buried in one of his shoulders with his arms close around his body.

Tobias is in front of him, his eyes look away and he doesn't give him an answer. He only pulls Tommy closer to him, even though the boy is already clutching his left arm very strongly.

Sapnap and George try not to laugh next to him, but the other people around don't find the situation as funny as they do. They are supposed to have a meeting after all. And both Tobias and Dream manage to sit with the two people still clinging to them.

Well, this will be difficult. He thinks as he notices how Theo closes his grip a little more tightly and hears faintly the sound of a growl. But he is not upset by it.

The thing that made him upset was finding out that Theo had hidden that need from them. George had been the first one to notice him a little distant, but by the time they really thought something was wrong, they found the man curled up in his bed around blankets, ears twitching, ringtail bristling, and awfully whimpering.

None of them were animal hybrids, but that doesn't mean they couldn’t have asked, that's why Dream was angrier at himself when he demanded Theo for an explanation.

"I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable." His protege had said with a low gaze and clearly embarrassed.

After hearing that, Dream didn't hesitate to give permission to be hugged.

********

Tobias feels angry.

He is feeling a lot of things actually. Happy being hugged by Tommy, frustrated at the sight of Dream with Theo, and hurt by seeing the aggressive look in the eyes of his old best friend. Unlike Tommy in his arms, who almost seemed to be sleeping with a faint smile.

But I deserve that look, don't I? He remembers one day, very long ago, when Theo asked him with an embarrassed face if he could hug him for the rest of the day. What was his response?

"I don't think that’s a good idea, we have a meeting discussing your situation, remember?" George's house had been burned and Dream had asked for consequences. "Besides, it would look embarrassing."

But by the time he saw the dirt pillar reaching the sky, he wished nothing more than to be able to hold Tommy one more time and never let go. He would've been more clingy than his friend would’ve ever needed.

And then Dream showed up with him. The strike of anger and jealousy that he felt during the winter days after, thinking of how his friend would hug that smug bastard looking for safety.

That mental picture always made him regret so many things.

********

Dream knew exactly what to do when Tommy, face red and looking down, grabbed his hoodie in silence.

In the free time he got between his visits to Logstedshire, he had read a lot of things about raccoon hybrids. How they tend to be aggressive towards people they distrust, how they used to find small places to sleep often away from big groups of people, how needy they could become during cold days.

He hugged the boy, moving himself and Tommy to the small tent to avoid the rain.

Sitting in the bed, he stroked the boy's hair and ears, and he noticed small sobs coming from him.

"Why?" Tommy's voice sounded hurt, but he didn't move away. "Why do I only have you?"

Dream only pulled him closer. "Because I'm your friend, Tommy." and the boy only cried more.

They stayed like that for quite a while, until Tommy's breathing got slower. What started with him clutching Dream's hoodie, ended with him hugging the man during his sleep.

After that, hugging Dream became a habit during the rainy days.

********

Tubbo woke up with a jolt when he heard a clap of thunder. The hard sound made an echo in the presidential office.

It was raining a lot those days. But as he looked at the window, a sudden fear rose up inside him as he remembered something. He almost collided with Ranboo as he exited the room.

"Tubbo? Wha- What's wrong? Are you-"

"I need to go to Tommy." He quickly walked past him.

"Tommy?" Ranboo's voice was close to a whisper. But he hurried up to follow him. "Why do you want to see him?"

Tubbo tried to ignore how soft the voice of the hybrid had turned. "It's raining. He gets clingy when it's cold and he needs someone to hold onto."

That's when Ranboo blocked his way, meters before he could get to the front door. "Step away, please." Tommy needed him, but the tall man grabbed him by the shoulders.

"Tubbo, he is- You can't go see him."

"Why not?" His voice grew louder and he felt irritated as he took one step forward. "He can't come back, but that doesn't mean I can't go to him. Let me through!"

"I'm not letting you go there, Tubbo." His tone was firm. After all, if he exited the building, Ranboo wouldn't be able to follow.

But goat hybrids are stubborn, especially when something is standing in their way. His horns tackled Ranboo's chest strongly, but his tall friend didn't move.

"I need to see him Ranboo!" He put all his strength into trying to push him. "I shouldn't have exiled him! He is all alone, don't you get it?!" Tubbo tried to ignore the tears running down his cheeks. "Wilbur- he's gone, Phil and Techno are not here either. I- I'm the only he can..."

He dropped to his knees as Ranboo held him close. "He is too proud to admit it. He- He bites himself to try to avoid asking. He did that a lot in Pogtopia."

"I- I know. You told me."

"Please, let me go."

"I can't."

"Why?..." How did he forget the answer?

"Tubbo," Ranboo embraced him, his voice sounding choked as well. "He's gone."

********

Philza turned around when he felt his cape being pulled.

They'd just finished their part of the outing and his son stood behind him with that horrible smiling mask covering his face.

"Tommy?" he talked to him in the softest tone he could, like treating a small animal that could flee at any second.

It was strange when Dream left Tommy with Phil for the mission of the day, and it was even stranger that his son had started a contact after being silent for months. He missed his voice, louder than Techno’s and warm like Wil’s. Ender, he missed him so much. Even so, he tried to hide the hope in his words. "Do you need something?"

Just let me hear you. Talk to me, please. But the boy didn't answer, his ears were down and his ring tail moved slowly. "We're close to the base, I know you want to wait for Dream but it's getting cold-"

He stopped as Tommy’s head hit Phil's chest weakly, and his hand grabbed part of his robe.

It's something that raccoon hybrids often do.

Philza couldn't resist a fond smile.

He realized that his hands were shaking when they rose up to touch the boy’s hair, and he caressed his ears as gently as he could.

Closing his eyes, forcing some painful memories away, he remembered his younger boy's face, blue eyes with a shy and pleading look to be held. He remembered the warmth of holding him during the rainy days when he was little. And when he remembered how Tommy called him dad a long time ago, Phil's eyes started to tear up.

His arms hugged Tommy strongly. Avians had instincts too. Wrap their loved ones in their wings it served to provide, or in his case, feel comfort. And so his black wings surrounded his son in a tight embrace as he breathed in the boy's hair.

I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. Forgive me, please don't go. He wanted to scream those words but for some reason, he couldn't. He felt Tommy shaking and his grip tightened a little bit more.

He didn't want to let go, no if it meant the boy going back with Dream.

He could kill him, he thought. Once Techno came back, they could end with the nightmare that surrounded them and his son would finally be safe.

But his thoughts of hope were interrupted when he noticed how Tommy was struggling under him. And he barely managed to avoid the swing of the ax directed at his heart.

"Tommy?! What-?" The boy was crying away from Phil. Tears dropped below the mask, he listened to ugly breathing as Tommy hyperventilated, his tail moved aggressively and he heard a growl coming from him.

He forgot that Tommy was claustrophobic.

"Mate, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to-"

Tommy's ears moved quickly to the side and his head turned. Dream was walking towards them with Techno next to him. And before he noticed, the boy ran towards the other masked man and tackled him into a hug.

Could he really call himself Tommy's father? Shame and frustration filled his broken heart as he watched Tommy being petted by the man he hated. "It's fine, Toms. I'm here." Dream seemed ignorant of the deadly looks he got from him and Techno. "We took longer than we thought, but I knew you could hold on."

As sick as Dream’s games were, that was the moment Phil started to question if he really deserved to have Tommy back.

********

Technoblade thought that Tommy was running at him.

It was a foolish thought, the voices told him, but it still hurt. He would've asked what happened, but when he saw Phil's look of regret and frustration, he could get an idea.

Especially when it also happened to him a few weeks ago. The last rains started to become poisonous to every living thing that wasn't crimson. Lucky for them, the most basic armor could offer protection, but the durability would drop quickly.

And because of that, he, Tommy, and Dream were waiting for the rain to pass inside some caves next to a mountain.

The green man went deep, looking for coal to make torches in case mobs would spawn in the dark. That left the piglin hybrid with Tommy. The raccoon boy curled up against a wall, hugging his legs with his mask covering his face.

And he sat next to him. Not too close to touch, but enough to notice the boy shaking, the fur on his ring tail was bristling as well.

"I'm here, you know." He told him. Just like his father, he had noticed the way the boy fiddled with his tail and tried to hide his ears in his hoodie. "We don't have to talk, and I won't hug you back if you don't want to."

In the past, when Tommy's pride got the worst of him, Techno would always tell Wilbur or Phil. It was his way of compensating for the fact that he didn't like that kind of physical contact.

But at that moment, he was more than willing to let Tommy hold him as much as he needed to, even if it would take all of his strength not to hug back, even if the boy despised his existence, and even when he knew that he had lost all right to call Tommy his brother. He wanted to be there for him.

But the raccoon hybrid kept quiet. Only when he looked at him he realized that he was sleeping. Shivering, but his breathing was slow.

"Tech, I'm cold." He frowned at the memory. The voices began to speak louder, demanding that he give some warmth.

Techno's eyes stared at him softly. Despite not being sixteen anymore, Tommy still looked so small next to him. His arm surrounded him, but before making contact, another memory came.

Suddenly, it was not the boy resting anymore, he was curled up on the floor, shaking, blood dripping from his nose, and with several bruises on his face.

"It stays in the pit."

His hand backed off immediately. A wave of quiet anger filled his mind. Some of the voices were cruel to remind him of that sight.

Blue eyes saw him with anger once. And then again in a plain, in a little refuge whose name Techno had already forgotten. Tommy looked at him that way when he mocked his pain. And that look would be engraved in his heart for the rest of his days, he wouldn't forget.

How could he? When the boy's face was getting hard to remember recently, always covered in a mask and staying silent.

Technoblade felt the most pain at the thought of forgetting Tommy's face.

He stood up and left his cape around the boy carefully. He walked until he reached the exit of the caves. It was still raining, so he leaned on one of the walls and watched the raindrops slowly kill everything.

He breathed, ordering his thoughts and calming every single voice. Their mission wasn't over. The best thing he could do was not lose his focus.

A few minutes later, he heard footsteps behind him, and the smiling mask appeared in his vision. Dream held his cape in front of him.

It was a single second of confusion. He grabbed the cape and the masked man spoke, making Techno's rage rise once again.

"Don't show compassion now, Technoblade. You once told him to die, and I pushed him to keep living."

Dream went back to the caves without expecting an answer, leaving him alone with the screaming in his head, every voice demanding blood, and never getting the satisfaction.

Techno liked to consider himself a calm individual, able to control his emotions better than others. But the voices called him a hypocrite when he pictured all the ways he could kill the masked man beside him.

********

Tobias blinks a couple of times when he feels a movement by his side.

And he almost screams seeing Theo clutching part of his shirt, eyes closed, and sleeping very peacefully over his shoulder.

For a second he considers the possibility of him dreaming, but he remembers entering Tubbo's house just minutes ago, he sat on the big couch feeling tired, and he didn't hear Theo come in.

He must be waiting for him. He recalls Dream asking Theo to wait since there were other matters to be discussed. And Tommy had gone with Tubbo to do other things as well.

A little part of him feels sad that he can't stop time at this very moment. But a warm feeling fills him as well, and he closes his eyes getting closer to the body beside him.

Just like raccoon hybrids often hug their family or friends.

He smiles. Theo can kill him later, he wants to enjoy the moment a little more.

—————

Man, this was a long one. You could say this is a bunch of ficlets into one? I dunno I just wanted to write something sad.

#dsmp rewind #ficlet #tw manipulation #tw emotional abuse #tw mention of selfharm

119 notes · View notes

dolliedarlin · 4 years

Text

s a f e i n h i s a r m s ⏤katsuki b.

s u m m a r y : after rescuing you during a rescue exercise gone wrong, now Bakugou can't shake you off from clinging onto his arm.

l e n g t h : 2.9k

g e n r e : fluff

w a r n i n g s : cursing from our beloved explosion boy

p a i r i n g : bakugou katsuki x f.reader

a / n : this idea came out of nowhere so instantly got to writing it. i'm sorry for any grammatical or spelling mistakes. this honestly gives me Juvia and Gray vibes from Fairy Tail...they were my favorite couple after all so, yeah...even reader has a water quirk -oopsie! whelp! we can see where my inspiration comes from at least. enjoy they read my lovelies!

It all started when Bakugou saved you during a rescue exercise that went horribly wrong for you.

The ceiling had collapsed from above you and, no matter how fast you were at trying to avoid the falling debris, it was still able to trap your leg. With it's crushing weight, several bones in your leg were snapped, leaving you vulnerable and immobile. Your horrifying cry of pain could be heard throughout the building as it bounced off the walls, alerting your classmates, who were sent into an instant panic.

Most of them had traversed through the fragile maze left by the torn-down structure as you had stubbornly stayed behind to ensure that everything transpired smoothly behind your teammates. With the frail state of the infrastructure, it was difficult for your team to travel back to your location without possibly triggering further collateral damage that could potentially cause further harm to you.

Things weren't looking their brightest.

The pain in your leg had crawled up the rest of your body and paralysed you with its stinging bite. It almost brought tears to your eyes but you had to be strong, you couldn't just sit around and wait for help. That isn't what a future hero should do. With the dry air around you, you wouldn't be able to use your quirk so you got started on trying to push away the sizable chunk of ceiling that had trapped your leg beneath it yourself.

It didn't take long before you realised that your attempts were futile. Judging from the way your arms shock under the weight as you awkwardly gripped at the ceiling fragment, you wouldn't be able to get out on your own. Losing hope, you let your tears accumulate to the surface of your eyes and were just about to let them flood over your lashes when an explosion broke a hole in the wall to the right of you. The instant you turned to its direction, your (e/c) orbs met with the piercing red eyes of Bakugou. The explosive blonde didn't say anything and just hurried to your side with a scowl, easily lifting the weight off of your leg before delivering a blast that pushed the hard stone ceiling over onto it's back. You were about to say your thanks when the blonde saw the state of your leg and grumbled as he picked you up in his arms and made a run for the exit he had made.

Everything happened in the blink of an eye, primarily because the jumbled emotions you were going through was hard to process individually as well as conjointly. However, one thing that you were sure of as you stared up at the frowning blonde carrying you in his arms, was that you had never felt safer than in that moment.

After that day, the way you acted around Bakugou was never the same.

You never really had a fixed friendship group. Sometimes you would sit with Midoriya and his friends, sometimes with the Bakusquad, sometimes with the rest of your classmates (but not Mineta) and even with those from class 2B. However, you were beginning to hang around the Bakusquad more and more after the incident of your rescue.

None of them really complained about it, not even Bakugou, in fact, they loved that you were spending time with them, especially Mina as she finally had another girl to help her through the other boys' antics. It was a surprising thing coming from her, seeing as she partook in mischievous antics of her own from time to time, sometimes, even joining in with Kaminari and Sero's playful pranks.

Truthfully, you seemed to be the only other level-headed person aside from Kirishima in Baukgou's eyes so, although he was grumbling under his breath at first, he wasn't too opposed at your newly established presence amongst the group of 'annoying weirdos that followed him around'.

This was a good sign for you and helped you to quickly get comfortable around the blonde.

Nobody knew this about you at the time but you're actually a very affectionate person, you just haven't been able to find someone to direct that affection towards so you've been a bit touch-staved. That was getting fixed really soon, however, because, now, you know exactly who to shower your affection on.

It started with little things such as simply standing closer to Bakugou than usual. He would throw you a narrowed glare but after you flashed him a smile, he would relent with a huff as he turned his attention away from you. It didn't take long for him to get used to you being so close but the instant he had grown familiar with your close proximity, you gave him a reason to send another harsh stare and growl your way.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing to my hand you stupid extra?!" he snapped at you, almost showering you in saliva from the way he was shouting in your face.

"Holding your hand," you replied bluntly, flashing a wide grin up at him with your eyes closed. In protest, the explosive blonde tried to tug your hand away, shouting demands for you to let go. This is when he realised that you had suddenly grown a monstrous amount of strength as he wasn't able to successfully pull his hand away from you. In fact, his tugging had the opposite effect and encouraged you, to not only, interlace your fingers with his but also to hug his arm to your chest using your other hand.

"GET OFF ME!"

"Don't you like holding my hand, Bakugou?" you asked with an endearing pout and subtle whine in your voice as you looked up at him with big teary eyes.

"NO! I DON'T!" his hopes of getting you to let go proved futile as you just continued to smile and hold him tightly. Eventually, he gave up and let you cuddle his arm throughout the school day, glaring at the people that dared to look and point. Kirishima, Kaminari, Sero, and Mina all commented on his laughable position, chuckling under their breath at how it didn't suit him to be so close and affectionate with a girl.

"WHAT DID YOU SAY?! SAY THAT AGAIN YOU BASTARDS AND I'LL BLAST YOUR FACES OFF!" he was about to chase them down as they shouted and ran away from him, their laughter hanging in the air. If only you weren't still hugging his arm.

"Don't do that Bakugou," you pouted and pressed your cheek into his shoulder.

"Hah?" he gave you a look of offended confusion. No one dared to keep him from beating up those idiots, who called themselves his friends, before.

"I'll have to let go of your arm if you do that,"

Bakugou doesn't know why but he didn't put up much of a fight after seeing how dejected you looked at the idea of having to let go of his arm.

As time progressed, many people grew bolder in teasing Bakugou as your holds on the male grew even more restricted, which gave them ample time to run away if need be.

One day, when you had been cuddling into Bakugou's side whilst hanging out in the common room with the rest of his group, Kaminari couldn't hold back his jealousy at the fact that someone as ill-tempered as Bakugou was getting more attention from a girl than he was.

"I can't believe you get cuddles from (Y/N) every day, Bakugou," Kaminari began as you giggled in return, "It's Not Fair!" the electric emitter cried with tears in his eyes.

"Then you have her!" Bakugou barked, attempting to pry you off him just to throw you at Kaminari as you flashed the explosive boy an extremely upset expression.

"No!" you cried, clinging onto him as tightly as possible, "I only wanna cuddle Bakugou!"

At this, the explosion quirk user sighed in exasperation and slumped back into his seat on the sofa, letting you sit on his lap and nuzzling into his chest as his arms stayed immobile at his sides. In the background, Kirishima set about comforting Kaminari as Mina and Sero laughed at the comical scene before them.

Your need to cuddle and be close to Bakugou didn't stop there, however, you even had the guts to embrace him at inconvenient times.

There were instances where Bakugou would be cooking dinner in the dorm kitchen and you'd come up to hug him from behind. His only response to your embrace, after you had done this to him time and time again, was to continue cooking and to cook enough for the two of you.

The first few times you were valiant enough to bring the red-eyed temper teen into your arms, he had put up his usual fight before ultimately giving up. The case would be that you'd skip up to him with your usual close-eyed smile, pull him into a hug that he wouldn't return as he'd do his best to continue whatever it was that he was doing, treating you like dead-weight hanging off his torso. Sometimes, he needed to throw you over his shoulder or carry you in his arms to be able to do whatever he had to do properly.

Take for example, walking up a set of stairs, he would throw you over his shoulder and make his way up the steps as quickly as possible to ensure that fewer people saw. Times when you had been particularly eager to stand beside him, even when he's training, he'd use you for practice.

It started off as your idea, actually.

"Why don't you pretend that I'm an injured person and carry me in your arms as you run to safety?" you suggested as you held your arms out, smiling happily up at him. He was stubborn at first but eventually, he was carrying you in his arms as he ran laps on the UA track lines. It felt so good to be in his arms again that you would always end up nuzzling your face into his neck no matter how sweaty he got.

"Don't do that, idiot. I'm fucking sweaty!" he'd reprimand you often.

"But I like your sweat Bakugou,"

"HAH?!"

"It saved me that one time and I'm sure it'll save me and others many more times in the future too," you'll never forget the tomato-red blush his face flourished into that day.

Nobody knows why you came across as so persuasive to the blonde that he let you do whatever you wanted. However, from their observations and the speculation that stayed between the rest of class 1A ended up reasoning that Bakugou was too touch-starved to willingly fight you off him. It was cute. The two of you were secretly dubbed the cutest couple in class 1A despite not officially dating.

Your admirable persistence at staying beside Bakugou at all hours of the day has continued for several months, and now, Bakugou as well as the rest of your classmates, wouldn't be able to see you without seeing the explosive blonde close by. Often times, you would cuddle up to him on the common room sofas as he read a book or played the games he was forced into doing by his 'idiot' friends. Your interactions were amusing to watch and helped the rest of your classmates see a different side to Bakugou.

The desire you had to stay by Bakugou's side flourished and blossomed over the months as your initiation on being close to him made you learn more endearing things about him. He's very misunderstood so you're glad you took the time to get to know him.

"You don't mean to be mean, do you, Katsuki?" you whispered his name with the most affection and ever so gently as you reached up a hand to tenderly caress his sleeping face. He had managed to fall asleep with everyone else at a weekend night together. The previous week had been exhausting and so the Bakusquad suggested an evening of fun to lift the weight of stress off everyone's shoulders before another week of stress is piled on top of them again. "I sometimes wish more people can see the good in you," you continued, suppressing a yawn, "but I'm greedy,"

Bakugou will never admit that he heard your little confession that night as you slipped into the world of sleep cuddled into his chest atop him.

As of recently, you had been pestering Bakugou to hug you back whenever you went up to embrace him but he wasn't going to willingly comply until he found out why exactly you were being so clingy. He knows he isn't the best person to be affectionate with and that you somehow were able to see through that, not that he would ever admit to there being something deeper going on behind his constant untamable temper.

The blonde can see you with so many other guys who were more deserving of you than he was, like Kirishima and even that stupid Deku. No matter how irritated it made him feel to see you with other guys, he knows that it was ultimately better for you to be affectionate towards them than him. It didn't make sense to that someone like you was always so desperate to be beside someone like him.

The day he saved you during the rescue exercise was a one-time thing. That couldn't be your only reason. Bakugou needed to know your way of thinking and decide for himself if it was equitable enough to let you continue what you were doing or to push you towards someone else, whether you do it willingly or not, he didn't care. He needed to focus on becoming the number one hero, not you.

It wasn't until the class had another hero rescue exercise that Bakugou finally got an answer to the reasoning behind your behavior towards him.

Somehow, the two of you ended up trapped together. Bakugou could easily cause an explosion to get out but not without causing the rest of the building collapse atop both of you at a rate and amount that would overwhelm the explosion emitter. Your water emitting quirk was limited at the moisture in the dry air surrounding you so you wouldn't be able to help much if you wanted to.

Despite the dire situation, you were still smiling and moving about without a care in the world.

"What are you smiling about idiot?!" Bakugou snapped at you, his frustration at his helpless situation making him act out, what made it all the more infuriating, however, was knowing that you knew from the gentle and understanding smile you directed towards him.

"Because you're with me Bakugou," he was speechless, "whenever I'm with you, I know I'm safe so I can be calm and think of things rationally," your smile only grew at his stunned and blinking expression, it took a moment but a boost of Bakugou's ego was soon rushing in as he felt his heart do something weird in his chest. It made him blush but you didn't need to see that so he quickly turned away so that the only evidence of the blush on his face you witnessed was at the tips of his ears, "in fact, I think I have an idea on how to get out,"

Using your water quirk, you drew as much moisture from the air as you could before you took a limited amount from your lungs. You fashioned the water in your hands into a gentle drill that you then used to dig your way out from the building. You needed to take multiple breaks, however, as utilising water from your lungs required you to hold your breath but in no time at all, you and Bakugou were out and safe.

After that day, Bakugou finally hugged you back every time you embraced him.

He became less grumbly at the fact that you were always reaching out to touch and cuddle up to him, actually, he made it a point that you would only want to be close to him and no one else. Everyone practically saw the hidden smirk on his lips every time he pressed your happily smiling face into his chest as his arms wrapped around your waist tightly, with his smirk all the boys around him he would glower at as if to stake his claim over you and the affection you were showering him with.

Bakugou could get used to this. He should've given you a chance earlier because he surprisingly liked having you wrapped up in his arms, your face tucked into the crook of his neck, your chest pressed up against his as your arms wrapped around his torso.

"Katsuki," you looked up at him as he grunted in return, maneuvering your face back into the junction between his shoulder and neck. It was a place that your face fit perfectly into and he needed you to always have your face pressed up against that area or else his neck would feel too exposed and naked, "since you're okay with hugging me back now..."

"What is it?" you didn't answer so he pulled away to look you in the eyes, "Spit it out,"

"Can I have a kiss?"

“Uh-“

n a v i . | bnha mlist

#bakugou x reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou headcanons #bakugou imagine #bakugou fluff

1K notes · View notes

soyeahitsmiddleearth · 3 years

Text

Killer Good Looks pt. 2

The Company/Reader

Goblin tunnels, scapegoats, and life-threatening adventures... Oh, and you're still supposed to kill these guys, hm.

Angst, Humor, Action

----

The fall from your little cozy cave down into the deep dark depths of the Goblin Tunnels was not a pleasant one, and you're almost certain that a concussion is in the makings with how many times you and your companions have smashed your heads against walls, each other, and rocks alike.

You got lucky for the most part, and they've got pretty thick skulls so they'll be fine too.

Once the twisting tunnels and dead-drops are done, you all lay at the bottom of some sort of cage, groaning and recovering from the shock of it all (you're fairly certain there's a period there where you're all unconscious).

Damn it, you should've known better.

You've known for ages about the goblins that reside in the Misty Mountains, but you, for some reason, thought you'd be safe enough with the horrible weather to make it in and out of the mountain range before they even knew you were there.

The goblin king won't see you, will he? He won't recognize you, right?

Yeah, so, there was a time there where you worked freelance, having no assignments from The Brotherhood or anything to do, and you caught wind that the goblins of the Misty Mountains came across something desirable.

Something... shiny... and... possibly magical.

Your kleptomania went positively wild at the mere thought of finding something so pretty and sparkly in such a dreary and dismal place, so you set out for the Mountains, staked out around the entrances for a few days, and then snuck in and stole that 'thing'.

The 'thing' ended up being a radiant, beautiful ring stolen from some poor traveler more than likely. Whether they wiped out the kingdom or stole it in silence is unknown to you, but you didn't really care.

You snuck in at night while countless goblins went out to hunt and enjoy the evening, and then you swiped the ring from the goblin kings finger while he slept when day came about, hid in the tunnels until night once more while he flipped out in search of it, and made your escape the following night.

Only after you stole it did you find out that it was magical.

It morphed to fit your finger as soon as you fit it on, and granted you some enhanced senses.

The enhancements weren't vast or grand, but it was a very slight adjustment that helped to polish your already honed skills.

You could hear a little better, see a bit further, and increased your 6th sense for detecting others.

They probably went through numerous hardships to acquire such a useful item, and, now, it was all yours for free.

That day you spent hiding away in the tunnels, waiting for night so you could escape after stealing it in the day, was boring, but also a little frightening. The way the goblin king screamed and screeched about a thief and needing to find his prize made you briefly fear for your safety, but it didn't take long for you to realize they're too dumb to spot you.

You may not be the strongest in terms of physical strength and brute force, but your willpower and cunning got you through it almost effortlessly. And, if you did get into a physical altercation, your agility and reflexes would help you go down while taking them out with you.

Anyways, your point it that, he may not recognize your face since he never saw you, but if he sees the ring then it's over for you.

So, once you regain your rational thought after your daze, you slip it off your finger and shove it into one of the hidden pockets in your shirt. Who knows if he'll recognize the ring or not.

In no time you are being hauled up to your feet and dragged away with the rest of your companions, though you are a fair bit taller than all of them so it's harder for these nasty bastards to keep you under control.

No matter how vast or grand your skills are, you'd never be able to take on all of these guys; you're a stealth master for a reason after all.

The lot of you are taken down a series of paths to an audience with the horrendous Goblin King, and along the way you manage to kick quite a few of those grabby little monsters down into the dark depths below.

A minute or so passes that ends with all of you, ultimately, in front of the Goblin Kind and helpless.

"Who would be so bold as to come armed into my kingdom?" His voice booms in front of all of you, echoing throughout the caves, "Spies? Thieves? Assassins?”

Something like that.

You are, technically, all three, but none of you are there for him.

One of the small, ugly creatures steps forward and informs him of who you all are, "Dwarfs and a human, your Malevolence."

His face morphs into one of disgust and he practically spits out, "Dwarfs?"

"We found them on the front porch." The lacky confirms.

“Well, don’t just stand there; search them! Every crack, every crevice.” He cries, slamming his fist down which makes the wood tremble beneath all of you.

A bunch of words are traded and the Great Goblin exposes his knowledge about Thorin and the fact that his greatest enemy, Azog the Defiler, is still alive and kicking.

“Send word to the Pale Orc; tell him I have found his prize.” A twisted smile takes over his huge face and causes that skin beard to shift, a disgustingly entrancing movement, and he looks down at the searching goblins expectantly.

You've had a 3 of your knives tossed aside and your short sword has been stolen, but you're happy to report that some of your hidden weapons and the stolen goods are still hidden.

Suddenly, one of the goblins loses it's head and throws something in front of the group, screeching and screaming with horror.

The Great Goblin recoils and he hisses out fearfully, "I know that sword! It is the Goblin-Cleaver, the Biter, the blade that sliced a thousand necks."

Whips and nails, teeth and palms, the dwarfs are abused with every limb, weapon, and thing possible, and before you can even think on it, your voice demands the attention of them all.

"Wait!"

Silence, stillness, attention.

God, you hate it.

You slip the ring from your pocket and onto your finger and take a step forward unobstructed from the enraged goblins, slightly nervous but blank in expression.

"I cannot hide it anymore. Every second that passes weighs on my soul, for the desire to be recognized for my deeds is too strong."

"Speak your piece, human, what do you want?"

You raise your ringed hand and brandish the smooth metal off to him, "Do you recognize this? The ring I so cleverly stole from you all those months ago?"

"M-My ring!" He bellows, taking a step forward, "How- You thief! You were the one who stole from me? You?!"

You say nothing at first and betray no emotion in your face, lowering your hand back to your side. When you do speak, you push arrogance into your voice, "I took it while you indulged yourself in sleep, and then I hid right under your nose for an entire day, holding my prize and listening to your whining and petulant screams." The insults are all well aimed and meant to enrage him, for you're hoping to take his attention off of the dwarfs before he can have them all killed. "If I had known you were so pathetic and slow-witted, I would have taken it during the night and saved myself the time."

Someone calls your name, Thorin, and he hisses with confusion, "What are you doing?"

You ignore him.

If he weren't so pale and colorless he would've been red with anger at your taunting words. The Great Goblin is seething and spitting, his huge, clawed hands clenched into fists as he tries to form a coherent thought.

"You dare speak down to me? You will be punished!" He cries, pointing a long nailed finger at you, "Cut the ring from those thieving hands, and then take those hands as well!"

Your expression shifts when you're shoved forward and onto the ground on your hands and knees, taking on a more defiant look despite the hint of fear in your eyes.

It's not like you want them to cut off your hands, you kind of need those, but you're fairly confident that this groups luck will strike once again and save you from a life of picking things up with your feet and wrists (if they don't kill you, that is).

"No!" Someone yells from the group of dwarfs and goblins, followed by shouts and calls from others as well.

Unfortunately, the roaring in your ears is too loud for you to make out individual voices, but it's nice that they aren't apathetic towards your fate.

Before you know it you're being shoved face-first into the ground and your arms are being wrenched out from beneath you, stretched out and poised for being cut off. Your finger with the ring on it is pulled from your fist, and when you glance up, you see a sword poised above the head of a goblin, ready to relieve you of your hand.

There's lots of screaming and yelling, and at some point you squeeze your eyes shut since you're no longer confident in your assessment that you'll be saved in the nick of time.

Finally, right when your fate is about to finally be sealed, a bright light blinds you all and renders the goblins immobilized momentarily.

Gandalf the Gray stands there with his powerful staff in hand and an aura of white surrounding him, meanwhile you all just stare in awe.

“Take up arms. Fight. Fight!” He demands, slamming his staff on the ground which shakes your very souls.

You, and everyone else, require no more prompting.

In one swift movement you roll back onto your feet and steal the discarded sword aimed to take your hands, and then you jump right into the action.

You and the entirety of the group make a swift and action packed escape where you spend the majority of your time protecting the Durin's, sticking close to them and keeping the goblins away.

Everything passes by in a blur of limbs, blood, and violence, and it isn't until you've killed the Great Goblin and escaped back out into the light of the soon setting sun that you have a moment to breathe and think about all the things that just took place.

It's at this time that everyone finishes running and takes a moment to catch their breath that you all realize Bilbo is missing, and you immediately curse yourself for not keeping a closer eye on him.

A couple of the dwarfs begin to blame each other and there's some mumbling amongst themselves, but Thorin has another idea entirely about what really happened.

"I’ll tell you what happened. Master Baggins saw his chance and he took it! He’s thought of nothing but his soft bed and his warm hearth since first he stepped out of his door! We will not be seeing our Hobbit again. He is long gone."

You purse your lips but say nothing despite your disagreement with his words; arguing with the people 'paying you' isn't the brightest idea, so it's better to just keep your mouth shut.

And then, quite the peculiar thing, said hobbit steps out from behind a tree and states matter-of-factly, "No, he isn't."

There is varying amounts of surprise and shock that wash throughout all of your expressions. Hell, your eyes even widen slightly when he appears so suddenly. How did you not notice him even with your ring on?

"Bilbo Baggins! I’ve never been so glad to see anyone in my life!” The gray wizard exclaims with a grand smile on his wrinkling face.

Kili speaks next, informing the little hobbit that there was little hope surrounding him. "Bilbo, we'd given you up!"

"How on earth did you get past the goblins?!" Fili wonders.

"How indeed..." Dwalin sounds suspicious almost when he repeats Fili's question, but you're entirely worried about something else.

"Are you alright, Bilbo?" You chime in before he can explain himself, stepping closer to give him a quick once over.

You were hired to protect the Durin's, but you need all of them to get access to that mountain with ease.

Or, at least, that's what you tell yourself.

The hobbit looks up at you and offers a slightly nervous smile, "I am fine. Just a few bumps and bruises."

"I want to know...," Thorin's voice breaks through your conversation as he asks, "Why did you come back?"

A quick moment of silence passes as you look down at your feet and listen carefully, actually a bit curious yourself.

It isn't like you couldn't do his part of the job for him, though your assignment is something else entirely, and he expressed his desire to leave right before you were all kidnapped by the goblins... so why would he come back?

"Look, I know you doubt me, I know you always have," Bilbo begins with a slightly grim face, "And you’re right, I often think of Bag End. I miss my books. And my armchair. And my garden..." He trails off as a faraway look momentarily blurs his vision, probably imagining what he could be doing at home right now, and you all watch and listen carefully. "See, that’s where I belong. That’s home. And that’s why I came back, cause you don’t have one - a home. It was taken from you. But I will help you take it back if I can.”

Your eyebrows furrow together when he finishes speaking his piece, because his words are... greatly troubling.

He was ready to leave it all behind before, mere seconds away from leaving back towards The Shire and Bag End, but here he is now. He came back because he genuinely wants to help; he wants them to reclaim their home and find their wandering origins.

Everyone is silent as they think over the words Bilbo speaks, and while it awes most of them, you only feel more bothered.

Such a kind hobbit who you may likely need to kill.

"That's foolish." You find yourself saying that before you can even think about it, something that's been happening too often for your liking.

You get several shocked looks, hell, you're shocked yourself, but you don't take back your statement.

Where did this disdain come from all of a sudden? This disdain not towards the kind hearted hobbit, but towards yourself?

"You are not the person to be calling the actions of our Master Burglar, foolish." Gandalf scolds, eyeing you with a pointed look. "I know your taunting and teasing towards the Goblin King was no accident or arrogance driven necessity. And I also know that you could have easily broken yourself free before harm befell upon you. I brought you along to do a job, and do this job you have - much too well. I thank you for the distraction, but your methods may have proved to be a mistake had I not arrived on time."

You look back at the gray wizard with an unwavering stare, eyes slightly narrowed as you attempt to glare him into submission; only, he doesn't relent and stares right back at you.

"You came in time." A weak defense.

"And if I hadn't?" He asks, voice raising slightly. Gandalf doesn't much like backtalk. "How far would you have taken it? Were you going to allow them to take your hands? To cut that trinket from your finger?"

This time you hesitate in replying, something akin to a pout tugging at your lips. "Of course not. I had faith that you would come, and you did...," you trail off, then add begrudgingly, "And if you hadn't, then I could have escaped quite easily."

Another silence filled by the two big egos facing off against each other.

Gandalf's ego wins, unfortunately.

You relent and look away, catching the troubled gazes of Fili and Kili.

Did your actions really bother them that much?

"Well what do you suppose I should do? Let them harm you all?" You wouldn't let that happen.

That thought that lingers behind your words makes your eyebrows knit together in confusion once again, and your gaze wanders away once more.

Now that you think about it, why did you do it? I mean, why did you really do it?

You knew they weren't actually going to die just like that, he's too scared of the pale orc to do that, but you did it anyways. The possibility of harm befalling upon these dwarfs actually... affected you.

Gandalf pauses and observes you carefully, then realization sparkles in those infuriatingly wise eyes of his.

"Well, no matter. I did not mean to scold you, for you are a very capable person, so I thank you for doing your job well and diligently." He lets those words hang in the air for a time, then he moves on, "Now, we must discuss where we are and where we must go."

"I say-" Thorin begins, only to be cut off by howls and the sound of a gravely voice speaking in another language. "Out of the frying pan..." He sighs with a weary face.

"And into the fire! Run! Run!!" The gray wizard snaps.

You all begin your hasty retreat down the mountain, and at some point the sun begins to set.

The sky turns all sorts of vibrant shades of orange, blue, and red, and the light delicately kisses the peaks of each tree, mountain top, and surface. The air smells fresh, as it usually does following a hard rain, and the grass and leaves glisten healthy because of the drink offered to them by the sky. It's a magnificent sight to behold, but none of you are able to appreciate it, for the beauty of nature is being darkened and tainted by the evil intent and fear.

Those nasty wargs chase you all down like prey, maybe that's exactly what you are, meanwhile your feet take you as far away and as quickly as they can.

You jog behind the two youngest Durin's, being as Thorin takes the lead as per usual, and keep a slow enough pace to avoid taking over them (they're not the fastest group of dwarfs, after all). You can't have them becoming warg food when you still need them to get you into that mountain...

"Pick up your feet more when you run!" You command, glancing behind you briefly to gauge just how close those bastards are.

They heed your advice and end up running just a bit faster, something that relieves you somewhat.

The land begins to thin out and the ground you run on narrows, thus forcing all of you onto a cliff filled with trees and a precipice topped with a leaning tree.

“Up into the trees, all of you! Come on, climb! Bilbo, climb!” Gandalf demands, jumping up to grab one of the low hanging branches and pulling himself up.

You stay planted firmly in place and wait for everyone to find a spot in a tree and climb to safety, and while everyone else, even Bombur, finds somewhere to avoid the bloodthirsty wargs, Bilbo is still running for the tree line.

A frustrated curse passes through your gritted teeth, but you waste no time in rushing forward and yanking Bilbo away from the jaws of an awaiting warg. You foot shoots up and crashes into the side of its face, successfully knocking it off course since you nailed it in the eye which gives you two enough time to sort things out.

"Quickly!" You hiss, leaning crouching down with your hands clasped in front of you, "I can boost you up, but you mustn't waste anymore time!"

The little hobbit nods his head and steps his big right foot into your awaiting hands, and, once he's secured, you launch him up and into the awaiting low hanging branches.

"Y/N!" Fili screams from above you, panic lining his voice.

Your gaze snaps forward just in time to see sharp teeth and brown fur, but right before those razor teeth can sink into the soft flesh of your neck, a rock comes sailing through the sky and nails the nasty beast right in the nose.

It whimpers and jerks its head off to the side, but you don't waste anymore time in watching it freak out and instead roll around to the other side of the tree and jump up to grab a branch and pull yourself further up so they can't get your feet.

You reach up to grasp another branch, but someone catches your hand instead and easily hauls you into another layer of the tree.

"I've got you." It's Dwalin, and he doesn't let go of your hand right away until you're secure.

"Thank you." You dip your head after voicing your thanks then do a quick once-over to make sure everyone is safe in the trees, only, you don't get the chance to finish that before those wild dogs begin to rip at the roots holding the strong pines into place.

One by one do each of the trees begin to lean and fall, creating a domino affect that forces all of you to hang vicariously over the edge of the cliffside.

A quick glance down shows you the imminent death that awaits you below, and, for the first time since this chase began, you fear for your and everyone else's lives.

"Catch!" Kili yells to you, tossing a flaming pinecone your way.

Where did they get flaming pinecones?

Gandalf of course, you should've known even before you looked up.

You turn your attention ahead once more and pull your arm back, poised to throw the pinecone with all your might, only to stop mid-swing when something, or rather, someone, gets in your way.

Thorin Oakenshield stands on the trunk of the sinking tree with his weight distributed to maintain balance, and just ahead is Azog the Defiler, staring him down with an arrogant, sick smile.

Oh Jesus... this dwarf sure doesn't make your job easy.

You throw the pinecone since the flames began to lick at your gloved fingers and move to stand up, but the branch you sit upon cracks and creaks, groaning under the sudden movement.

Shit.

If he dies the dwarfs may give up on the entire journey altogether and decide to leave the mountain alone, and then where will that leave you?

You don't even want to think about it.

Another attempt is made to pull yourself up onto the thick trunk, but this time the entire branch cracks and breaks, falling out from beneath you as it hangs by the sparsely attached strings of ripped apart wood.

You just barely manage to throw yourself into the trunk and hang off the side, feet dangling in open air with nothing to leverage yourself with.

Panic blooms in your chest as you completely loose control over the situation, unable to even swing your legs up because of the way your arms can't completely wrap around the trunk.

"No!" Dwalin screams just above you, catching your attention briefly despite your panic.

You look over to the side and see that Thorin has lost his fight against the pale orc. He lays on the ground, unmoving and defeated as another one of Azog's companions raise its' weapon above its' head to kill the dwarf king.

"Damn it!" You hiss helplessly, pawing uselessly around the rough bark in search of any sort of leg up. "Thorin!"

This is it. They're going to kill him and all of you are going to fall to your deaths, soaring through the sky for a brief time before you become nothing more than bloody splatters on the ground below.

The sound of metal hitting metal and the clashing of weapons draws your ear as you begin to slip further down the circumference of the trunk, but you can't even turn to look because there's nothing left for you to do.

The rest of your body drags your arms from around the tree and, in a last ditch effort to avoid the drop, you grasp the broken, hanging branch.

It snaps of as soon as your weight yanks it down, and then... you're free falling.

Someone screams your name (is that Bofur?) but you don't do anything.

You don't writhe or scream; you don't flail your arms or cry; you just stare up at the horror stricken faces and your partners in falling (Dori and Ori) as numbness overtakes your whole body.

Yes, your stomach drops as the feeling of falling sickens you, but in your heart, in your soul, you feel nothing.

It's not like you've led a particularly good life or anything, but still, you don't want to die. Even if there is nothing for you, no one that cares, you still don't want to go; because once you're dead, the only thing anyone will remember you as is a ruthless monster, a puppet of The Brotherhood.

You don't want to die.

Maybe you should've rejected the job in the first place; maybe you should've made better designs in general; maybe you should've allowed yourself to let those foolish dwarfs and sweet hobbit close if to just feel a moment of belonging.

Little do you know, all of these thoughts will prove to complicate your mission further, because this is, in fact, not the end.

One moment you're falling to your death while having an existential crisis, and the next you're being snatched out of the sky by one of the Great Eagles.

#the company x reader #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit #reader insert #thorin oakenshield #fili #kili #killer good looks pt. 2 #assassin reader #angst #bilbo baggins #kili x reader #fili x reader #thorin x reader #bilbo x reader #bofur x reader #dwalin x reader

249 notes · View notes

augment-techs · 3 years

Note

I DON'T KNOW HOW THE WRITING PROMPT MEME WORKS REALLY

but it's WAYYYY too CUTE to not do. Sooooo how about I toss ya some numbers! ^^

Hand holding: 12 and 10! 33,

Hugs: 2, 18, 27

Hope it isn't too much!!! ^^

Kim was emotionally fluctuating between feeling sorry for Tommy, and trying not to go into shock whenever she walked into a room and found her older, alternate universe, badass-self kissing an older, Coinless General Bulk. Watching them seemed more perfect than she might have dared hope for whatever fate was allotted to the Ranger Slayer. When they'd first dropped into their Command Center and explanations had been given, Alpha had allowed Bulk to lead his Kimberly to the medical bay, and Kim had followed after them in case they got lost. Bulk was incredibly good with the damaged woman that could probably beat him into the ground at any moment. Kimberly hadn't even huffed when he'd offered her a piggy-back ride and then insisted on bandaging up her hand that'd been cut open when she'd gone after Tommy and he'd had to defend himself with Saba. He'd sterilized the wound, wrapped it tight but not without sympathy and hadn't bothered untangling their fingers or letting go when they'd wandered back into the room Zordon occupied so they could all talk and argue and occupy themselves with searching the data banks for ways out and locating their other friends for hours. The kissing was on the extreme end of their affections, though. In the days that followed, Kim didn't see them lock lips as often, as they usually found themselves training or cooking or reading with just one hand, as the other one was invariably found more often holding onto the other; like two magnets that would always find themselves connected if given enough time. It was, admittedly, adorable as anything she could have imagined, but still a surprise she couldn't help but balk at. Tommy underwent the same amount of shock with the random displays of affection that he often stumbled into with Kim, but he had more pressing issues: when he left to walk into a room with one of the Coinless universe alters, he always had to keep his movements to a minimum, hands far away from his pockets, and eyes to the ground. With the older Trini, Zack, and Bulk, it wasn't so bad; with the Omega Rangers out in space and their history with this smaller Tommy helping them before Drakkon shattered the Morphin Grid, they were more willing to acknowledge that the evil despot and the teen weren't the same. With those Coinless who had never been Rangers--Rocky and Aisha in leather and combat armor with battle scars, had looked very shocked when they'd met their younger selves in Ranger gear, Adam being given the oddest looks from the elders--it was much harder, because they hadn't even spoken to Tommy. And they'd all been dumped through a hole in space and time that the Eltarians and Zedd had caused when Zelya had gotten away from the moon, so everyone was still reeling--especially with them being separated into three groups around Angel Grove. Perhaps they'd make up their minds when the stragglers from Drakkon's universe arrived at the Command Center... * * "He's very strong, and very sure, but he's no Drakkon." "No offense, Skull, but how--" "Could I know that?" The spy--spy, spy, actual double agent who had to relay messages and blend into the background and not die a horrible painful death at the slightest misstep, how the fucking hell--smiled with benevolent pragmatism. Rocky nodded, mouth tightening into a line as Aisha stood her own ground in their questioning. They would have loved not to have come to such an awkward position with having to use Skull to calm down their worries, put them to bed, and smother them to death, but they couldn't find solace and reassurance in Zack and Trini's words and it didn't seem fair to keep putting the kids in defense positions just because they could calm the fuck down. Skull flicked his hand open and made a motion for Tommy to come closer to him, which he did with only a slight hesitation. He wasn't wearing his suit, but Skull had been the only person so far from the other dimension who hadn't looked at him and gone fully rigid, so he had a good sporting chance of not being injured here. When he was only a

step or two from walking directly into Skull, the man offered up his open palm, harmless and dangerous at the same time, and Tommy blinked, unsure and afraid, before deciding it was better to get everything that was going to happen one way or another out of the way. He lifted up his own hand and laid it flat in Skull's. There was dirt under his pointer finger and he only had a single twitch of a moment to be embarrassed before the much bigger fingers circled his wrist and wound around his knuckles, brought his hand upwards, as if he was little more than an infant fresh from a tub, or a sun warmed kitten. Tommy felt a coil behind his belly bunch up all of his nerves at once when Skull's fingers slotted between his own in a possessive kind of way that sparked familiar-unfamiliar thoughts--those all fading away when the man kept their palms together and brought his head down, breathing out like a gust of a train through a mountain pass, and inhaling at Tommy's wrist. Nose tip to his skin raising all the goosebumps Tommy thought he even had. He's pretty sure his ponytail sparked at the end when he jerked a little back. Which swiftly brought him to absolute internal humiliation that showed across his face like a goddamn Muppet. Just because he'd seen that Skull let the Coinless drink his blood right from his finger and they all ate it in bread and stuff after he'd let a tube from his arm pour into the batter of whatever he made them, didn't necessarily mean the man would bite him. ...He hoped. Then, as if that hadn't been the weirdest thing, Skull lifted his head to grin at him, but didn't let go of his hand as the man addressed Rocky, Aisha, and all the other adults--and Tommy was too confused to ask him to let go, so... there was that, "He doesn't smell like he's rotting from the inside; like he needs to be wearing five layers of Axe Body Spray. And he isn't getting all put-upon and squirrely with me holding onto him. And, if you'll humor me a moment?" He was looking at Tommy directly at the last bit, but didn't let the teen answer before he found himself being wrapped in arms that had way more muscle than Skull had any right to have in any universe holy hell--and Tommy was suddenly in a bear hug, feet off the ground and spun around twice as much as he had ever been even at five years old; three times around and around, before he was planted on the couch like a sack of flour right next to Kim (his Kim, who looked utterly stunned and far too amused). The giggle that left his mouth when he smiled at her smiling at him should not have come into existence, and if he hadn't been red before, he was practically blazing as he brought his hands up to cover his mouth. Skull's hand patted him on the head as he ducked his head as much as possible at the sounds of snickering and the other adults choking on their own reactions. He definitely felt like a kitten. "See? Totally harmless to us. Now let them take us to the Juice Bar and feed us; I'm hungry and Ernie's alive here to make me that banana-marshmallow smoothie I haven't had in over a decade." * "I...played the right politics." It would have been so fucking nice if Billy would stop asking Skull questions about the past and present the Coinless had to live through. He didn't mean to make the adults with faces he knew and worried over angry or tired, but Adam was getting very, very annoyed with how he always seemed to find the core root of things that made Skull look... All the emotion left Skull's face at that word, every single time. Politics, like a euphemism for something else entirely. (And it was.) Adam remembered, because he was there when Zack and Trini, Aisha and Bulk, Rocky and the others weren't; inside the fortress Drakkon ran and imbibed in terrorizing whenever he got especially bored. The monster loved to play games with his sentries, with his prisoners, but rarely with his staff, because it took time and effort to train up new ones. But the sentries were his favorite, because they had to prove their loyalty each and every day. Some in

little ways, some in big ways. And Drakkon remembered Skull. Zack and Trini hoped he wouldn't, and Skull, when he was giving help and clues and time that he could to them, made it seem as if he never even crossed Drakkon's mind from being a punk that wore a spiked collar back in high school to becoming one of the higher-functioning members of the red sentries. Oh, being a spy made him so good at pretending nothing was wrong, how to be cool under pressure, how to avoid danger on all sides with one way out or none at all; how to think ahead, think like his opponent, pull facts and plans out of instinct and thin air (because what other choice was there, after all). That was why he was the best; probably why, too, he was revived from death by the universe and multiverse reshaping itself with the Grid's renewal. Politics translated so well to Games in Drakkon's palace. (It was amazing how often the horrible bastard made the sentries fight or fuck each other in his presence; the threat of his being displeased getting them through most of the time, and out the door when he was finished with himself to go vomit or find a shower or smoke so many cigarettes. As far as Adam knew, Skull was one of the very rare few who were made to fight or pleasure Drakkon himself. Skull and Adam and one yellow sentry that died before Kim returned to their world. If Kim was ever made to do as they were, she didn't tell or didn't remember, and Adam was thankful for that. And thankful for Skull. When he fought other sentries, he injured with care to avoid it being permanent or knocked out the other in a show of force that Drakkon appreciated that didn't lead to brain damage but made a good show. When he was made to fuck the others, he carried necessary aids to protect them from hating themselves or leaving much of a trace behind--condoms made from animal skin by Finster-5 he bribed out of the little freak; lubricant so there wouldn't be blood or bruising; an aptitude for pleasing other people as thoroughly and as quickly as he could while being on top and leading them through it with hands calloused but still soft. When he had to use his mouth on Drakkon or submit to the tyrant--often in front of others and while being degraded with his real name being used like words from a djinn or an immortal snake--he did so efficiently and made it seem as though he wasn't being forced at all. Adam hated Drakkon more than anyone those times he had to be there and watched Skull pull his armor back on and resume his place in line among the other sentries like nothing had happened. He hadn't known him before the world came crashing down, but before he'd traded his loyalty for the hope that his family might survive--what a stupid hope that had been--he'd heard that the man had cried over Billy Cranston's gave for a week after his death and been good.) But this small, wide-eyed Billy Crantson, alive and well and looking at Skull with so much awe and respect that Adam could spot it from a mile away if he was goddamn blind, didn't need to hear that. Did not need the thought in his head like a rotting wound festering with so many white little maggots. So Adam continued sipping his coffee (pumpkin spice; which was so fucking good after years of straight, bitter instant black) and remained in his usual place beside Skull in the daytime, watching him go through the motions in this time out of joint from their own. Gladder still to be in the Juice Bar, watching the teens enjoy themselves, play at their video games, ramble on about tests they had to take in school; watch the Coinless eat their food and drink their smoothies, enjoy watching their young reflections practice gymnastics or martial arts. When Billy excused himself to talk to the Stone Canyon Trio about some notes they'd asked for from Ms. Appleby's class, eyes still sparkling with information given and listening to Skull like he would have listened to him even if he knew everything out of his mouth could have been a lie; nobody saw Adam wrap an arm around Skull's waist and squeeze

him from the side. It was just as well.

#wasn't sure who you wanted it written for since you didn't request specific names or pairings so I just kind of winged it #ask fill #prompt fill #boom! comics power rangers #shattered grid #mmpr #ggpr #eugene skull skullovitch #farkas bulk bulkmeier #kimberley hart #tommy oliver #adam park #rocky desantos #aisha campbell #billy cranston #implied/referenced dubcon #tomberly #world of the coinless #coinless Bulk x ranger slayer Kim

13 notes · View notes