#i kept finding little details to keep piling on but I resisted! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

binnie-bitch · 1 year

Text

In Your Arms - Stray Kids Fanfiction

Pairing: Bang Chan/Female Reader Tags: Fluff, Angst, Unrequited Love (but it’s not actually unrequited), Love Confessions, Implied Sexual Content Word Count: 4k Summary: You’re in love with your friend Bang Chan, but you’re afraid to confess. A/N: This is a commission for @thefangirloncrack Also the second time I wrote a reader fic (Technically the third, but we don’t talk about the first), but it was fun to write! I should write more reader fics. It’s different and trying out different things is always good. Anyway. Please enjoy! ~~~~~~~~~~

Bang Chan smiles at you over the table. Bang Chan, your friend, and the bane of your existence, who agreed to sit down and study with you despite being busy with his own school projects.

You know he has an essay due this friday, and yet, here he is, in the library, with his gentle eyes and warm aura. His body heat radiates where your ankle is squished between his legs. You have given up freeing yourself from his grasp ten minutes ago. His puppy eyes are hard to resist. It also doesn't help that his friend Changbin drags him to the gym every week.

Chan taps his pen on the back of your hand the moment you look away. You would never complain if he saves you from a headache that comes with trying to comprehend another academic text.

"Do you need something, oppa?" you ask.

"Y/n," he drawls, "are you free this weekend?"

"Depends."

"On?"

"What are you planning?"

Chan's smile molds into a grin. "A party! Well, it's not my party, but I'm invited."

"And you don't want to go alone?"

"You like parties!"

He isn't exactly wrong, but not right either. You don't hate parties. You can stomach them every now and then, but only because most of them involve Chan. He has made a habit of inviting you when you never said no before. You can't start now.

"I guess I have time," you say carefully.

"Great!"

Chan practically bounces in his chair as he gives you the details, and doesn't stop beaming until you both decide to leave the library. He gives you a hug before you part, like he always does. You might never learn how to not melt into his warmth. Your heart also never stops aching when he pulls away, and you swear that one day you'll break and keep him close for just a little longer.

When you first noticed it, you had just decided to try dating again. Chan was so encouraging. He had been ever since you met, that fateful day where you were crying in the back of the library over some stupid guy from history class. And he kept being there for you when no date went well.

But that's the problem, isn't it? Chan is sweet. So annoyingly sweet. No man had a chance when you started comparing them all to Chan. It's all too easy with him. Including falling in love.

That's how you find yourself rummaging through your closet on Saturday evening in a fruitless search for a good outfit. Whatever a good outfit means. Does it even matter what you wear? It's not like Chan will care. Every other girl at that party is going to be much prettier-

Fingers snap right at your ear. You shriek and jerk away, tripping over a pile of shirts. Minho just watches you fall with something akin to guilt. Or maybe boredom. You can never tell with him.

"Okay, that answers my question," Minho says.

"Question? What question?"

Minho sighs. "If you're listening."

"Oh. Sorry. I was-"

"Thinking about Channie-hyung?"

You shut your mouth immediately. Heat rises into your cheeks, and you bow your head, but Minho's attention is relentless.

"You know, y/n, maybe you should just tell him."

Eyes growing wide, you perk back up. "Absolutely not!"

"Words are a powerful tool. Bla bla. Whatever. He's not a mindreader."

"I don't *want* him to know!"

Minho rolls his eyes and takes his seat back on the bed. With his suffocating presence gone, you push yourself back to your feet, and continue your search. But building that pile of clothes won't help you.

You stare down at the shirts and pants, a colorful mess so unlike Chan. He once said that he appreciates your style. It's a nice contrast to his neverending closet of a black void. He seems to appreciate a lot about you, always giggling and blushing when confessing these things.

You haven't returned those words yet. They always linger in the back of your throat, but the many things you appreciate about him marinate in something much deeper than they do for Chan. If you dare to spill your thoughts, there is no saying what else might bubble up with it.

You glance at Minho.

"What if he doesn't like me back?"

Minho smiles as if you’re a puppy left in the rain. "Then you can move on at least."

"But what if-"

"Y/n, you think too much. Give your pretty head some rest and just do things."

Just tell Chan? It sounds so much easier than it is. You can't help but imagine all the ways this could go, and none of them end with you in Chan's arms. You want to be in his arms. You want to-

Minho scoffs, pulling you out of your wandering mind.

"If you don't tell me now, it might be too late."

You frown. "And if I do tell him, he won't be my friend anymore."

"Chan? Not your friend? Please." Minho waves his hand. "He'll get over it. You both will. And then you can go and find someone else."

A sigh falls heavy from your lips. Minho is right. You have been looking for the right outfit for an hour now, and for what? Chan won't have a moment of utter awe like a guy in a teen movie when the girl comes down the stairs in her prom dress. If he doesn't feel the same as you already, there is no hope it will change.

Admitting defeat took bravery, and you like to think you're very brave.

"I'll tell him tonight."

Minho gives you a thumbs up. "You got this!"

—-------

You absolutely do not got this. The moment you arrive at the party and Chan hugs you, it's over. All that confidence from before dissolves like cotton candy in water. He's so warm and his voice vibrates through your whole body and his smile has you weak in the knees.

"Hey, y/n! I'm so glad you're here," he says, guiding you into the house that was already overflowing with drunk college students.

You let him push you, because your body refuses to do anything else. Chan is wearing a tight black shirt and leather pants, and you can't help but take in his muscles. With his collection of hoodies, you rarely get the chance. But it also reminds you of how unbelievably attractive Chan is. He's kind and hot, and there is no way you can compete.

As you slip through the crowd towards the kitchen, you hold onto Chan's hand like a lifeline. There is a constant buzz under your skin like a colony of ants and your head overflows as you try to remember your plan. You can't pick through your thoughts with the constant booming music and the heavy mix of sweat and alcohol in the air.

It’s too much. You can’t focus. You can’t-

It all melts away when Chan turns back to you, beaming brighter than the sun. He’s so close, you can smell him. Sharp and woodsy, like wandering through the forest after it rained. It grows stronger as he leans in even closer, hot breath stroking your ear, and chasing a shiver down your spine. You hold your breath.

"Do you want alcohol or water?" Chan asks.

You exhale softly, ignoring the disappointment nagging at your chest.

"Alcohol," you say, tilting your head so your lips brush his cheek.

Chan tenses. You feel it where you're still holding his hand. His expression is impossible to decipher as he pulls back, but you're sure there is something akin to the excitement filling your nerves.

He smiles.

"I'll mix you something!"

You nod, and follow him to the kitchen counter. Dozens of different bottles cover the top along with packs of plastic cups. Chan takes one of the cups. You look away when he reaches for the vodka bottle. It's more fun if he surprises you.

You watch his face from the corner of your eye. His brows are knitted together, and the tip of tongue peeks out between his teeth. He's so concentrated, you don't dare to say anything, but the music alone is distracting enough to keep your thoughts at bay.

His bright smile is back when he hands you your drink. You accept the cup, but hesitate at the green liquid that's actually in there. Chan watches with many expectations and you take a careful sip. Apple and vodka immediately overwhelm your senses. You shudder, but swallow anyway, and Chan laughs.

"Too much?" he asks.

"No," you purse your lips like you've just bitten into a lemon, "it's good, just a bit strong."

"I can make you another!"

You laugh and quickly pull his hand away from your cup. Just to prove your point, you drink more, and hope that the kick of alcohol will help you later.

"See? It's fine. Thank you, oppa."

Chan laughs too. "You should thank my friend Jaehyun. He taught me how to mix."

"I'll keep that in mind if I ever meet him."

"You might today. He's around here somewhere."

"Later." You hand Chan an empty cup. "It's your turn."

"I have to drink too?"

You pat his shoulder, giggling. "You should try your own concoctions."

"Fine, but only because you complimented me!"

You keep giggling as Chan gets busy mixing again, but your insides are twisting like you're on a rollercoaster.

Everything that is Bang Chan holds you hostage. You can't look away from him even when you try. Like a moth to flame, you lean into the heat oozing from his body. The urge to trace his muscles tingles at your fingertips. You grip your cup tighter, and it crumbles a little, spilling some of the liquid.

Minho is more than right. You need to know, before you lose your mind. If Chan doesn't like you back, you at least know, and maybe get over your feelings. Otherwise, if you don't say a word, there is always that small chance that maybe Chan feels the same. And you know that as long as that chance persists, your feelings and yearning will persist as well.

"Oppa."

Chan meets your eyes. You take a deep breath.

"Oppa, can we go somewhere more quiet? I need to tell you some-"

"Chan!"

You freeze at the melodic voice carrying through the kitchen. At the same moment, you also watch Chan's expression change. He smiles. He smiles like he so rarely does, only when he's incredibly happy and excited. And he smiles like that for the girl joining you at the kitchen counter.

And then she kisses Chan.

The plastic cup cracks and deforms between your tightening grip. More liquid spills over, sticking to your fingers, but you don't care. No one points it out. Chan is too busy hugging that girl that you've never seen before. Or maybe you have. She's beautiful. You would have remembered her, wouldn't you?

She looks at you with cupid bow lips curled into a sweet smile.

"Are you y/n?" the girl asks.

You nod.

"Oh!" The girl claps her hands together. "Channie told me so much about you! It's so nice to finally meet you. I'm Sana!"

You stare at her, blinking. She holds out a hand, but as you fail to take it, Sana slowly pulls back, expression faltering. Both of you look at Chan. Realization seems to finally dawn on him.

"Oh shit! I'm sorry!" He bows his head, laughing nervously. "I wanted to introduce you to Sana today, but this is not how I planned it."

Sana gasps. "You didn't tell her about me?"

"Well, no? I wanted to!"

"What… Who…" You inhale sharply. "And who are you, Sana?"

"Chan's girlfriend!"

Girlfriend. Girlfriend. Girlfriend-

The word bounces in your head until it throbs at your temples. Your next breath stutters, your throat tight. Whatever you could have said gets stuck and even as you swallow, you feel like choking.

What even was there to say?

You straighten your back and slowly put down the cup on the nearest surface. Concern twists Chan's face, but you can't look at him for more than a few seconds. Your eyes burn at the edges. You take another deep breath, swallowing, chest tight and heart heavy.

"I need. I need some fresh air."

That's all you can get out, and even then your voice breaks at the end. Whatever protest Chan tries to give, it doesn't reach you through the white noise building in your ears.

You squeeze yourself through the crowd. You try to remember where the front door is, but your vision blurs and your head hurts. Somehow, you do actually manage to get out of the house, and a sob breaks out from deep within your chest.

You blindly walk away from the music, the voices, and Bang Chan. Alcohol buzzes hot in your guts and you feel sick, but you can't stop. Your feet carry you all the way to your dorm and even then your body refuses to just throw up. All you can do is fall into your bed and succumb to the tears.

—-------

Minho was wrong, actually. Knowing for sure about Chan's feelings doesn't help at all. It's actually worse. As they say, ignorance is bliss. It gives you all the room to be delusional, to cling to a hope that maybe there could be more.

There can't be more.

You're not even sure that there can be anything anymore.

You can't call Minho that night. He's just as much as Chan's friend as he's yours. You burdened him enough with the knowledge of your feelings. Crying to him was only going to make things worse.

So you don't. You don't tell anyone. You ignore their messages and calls. Chan even comes knocking on your door. You bury yourself under your blanket until he leaves. On Monday, you avoid Chan like the plague. Minho is harder to dodge. He outright hunts you down during lunch break.

It's nice. Telling someone. It doesn't take away from the weight on your heart, but it soothes your mind. A little. Just enough that you don't feel completely insane for crying about this. Minho holds you and it's the first time in so long that it's not Chan who comforts you through a heartbreak.

It's also Minho who invites you to another party two weeks later. 'Inviting' is a strong word. He knocks on your door two hours before the party starts and tells you to pick out an outfit. You don't ask why. You're too tired to argue. Maybe going out helps. Maybe you can drown yourself in alcohol until your heart stops aching.

This party is again at a stranger's house. You find some familiar faces from college, but you don't know half their names. Minho drags you to get some drinks and then leaves you for 'important business'. Not that you particularly care when you’re here to drink anyway. You sit on the kitchen counter and watch everyone else enjoy themselves, because what else are you going to do? Try to dance and mingle with the crowd? You don’t know them. You don’t want to know them.

You're halfway into your second beer when a guy takes the open space next to you. His knee bumps yours and you meet his eyes. You vaguely remember him.

Hyunjin? He's definitely one of Minho's friends, but you never really talked. He's pretty though. You want to run your fingers through his blonde hair, but that might be the alcohol speaking. It has loosened both your heart and mind, not enough that you can't make decisions, but enough that you can actually smile back at Hyunjin.

"Hey," you say.

"Hey," Hyunjin says sheepishly, clinging your beer bottles together, "you look a little lonely."

"So you thought you would give me some company?"

"Maybe."

You snort, amused, but not really that endeared. Not that you don't appreciate it, but you're not really in the mood to talk. But you don't really have to talk.

"I would feel less lonely with a kiss," you drawl, not sure if this was the right way to go.

But Hyunjin leans in closer and his hot breath ghosts over your lips and you just want to forget. So you slip a hand into his hair, tugging at the soft strands. Your mouths and tongues meet in a touch devoid of emotion.

This is to scratch an itch. Nothing more. Yet, guilt eats at the back of your head. You kiss Hyunjin harder, but that small voice won't shut up, and Hyunjin tastes like beer and cookies and you wonder if Chan would taste better.

You pull away, breathless. Hyunjin stares at you with expectations that you can't fulfill. You slip off the counter, about to say something that could get you out of this, when you suddenly catch sight of Chan.

"Y/n."

"Chan."

"You…" He glances at Hyunjin, lips pursed, and then meets your eyes again, "Can we talk?"

You don't want to. That's a lie. You really want to talk, but you're scared. Your body is on fire and yet icy cold as you wrap your arms around yourself.

Chan steps closer and reaches out. Hesitantly, you mimic him, and he takes your wrist.

"Sorry, Hyunjin-ah," Chan says, but you know he doesn't mean it.

Then he moves. Still held by his strong hand, you follow. He squeezes through the crowd and you barely keep up. When you stumble, he catches you, smiling faintly.

"Where are we going?" You ask.

"Somewhere more quiet."

“Chan-"

"Y/n, please."

You slowly nod, and Chan resumes walking. He only slows down as the crowd thins out and you reach the bottom of a staircase. For just a moment, Chan looks at you, eyes darting all over your face as if trying to find something. He seems to have found it and smiles again.

The upper floor is almost empty. Only a group of girls are standing in front of the bathroom. One of them is talking through the door, probably to a friend. They give you concerned looks as Chan pulls you past them towards another room. You wave at them, smiling, and one girl nods and gives you a thumbs up.

If this was worthy of a thumbs up remains to be seen.

Finally, Chan stops. He lets go of you and closes the door. You take a few deep breaths, your heart running a whole marathon, and it definitely doesn't help that Chan dragged you into a bedroom. A quiet place for sure, but you feel dizzy from the sudden wave of thoughts crashing over you.

"Sorry."

You look at Chan. "What?"

"I'm sorry," he repeats, scratching the back of his head.

"Why are you sorry?"

"I- Well- Maybe we should sit down."

You hesitate as Chan takes a seat on the bed, but he pats the space next to him and his puppy eyes still make you weak. So you sit with him. Your shoulders brush together, and you're immediately filled with his body heat. As your heart flutters, you close your eyes and indulge in that sensation that you’ve missed so much over the last two weeks.

Yeah, there is no way you can get over Chan any time soon.

Chan clears his throat.

"I didn't plan to do it like this, but then Minho said you're here and…"

"Of course. This is why Minho dragged me here."

Chan chuckles. "He really wants us to make up."

"You don't even know what you did wrong."

"I do, actually."

Probably Minho's doing too, but right now, you can't blame him. You would probably do the same.

You sigh. There is no way out now.

"You didn't actually do anything wrong, oppa."

"I kind of did."

"No," you insist, "I should have told you sooner."

"I should have realized sooner," Chan says.

"To be fair, I really tried to be subtle about it-"

"That's not what I mean," Chan puts a hand on your thigh and the touch burns through your pants, "I should have realized my own feelings sooner, y/n."

You whip your head around so quickly, you're surprised your neck doesn't break. It does hurt a little, but you can't spare a thought for it, your mind too busy trying to comprehend what Chan just said.

*His* feelings. His feelings?

You blink slowly, eyes wide, but your brain refuses to understand anything. If you're wrong, if you misunderstood…

Chan looks away. A red hue dusts his cheeks and the tips of his ears. You mindlessly reach out and pinch one of his ears, getting a giggle out of him. He also manages to meet your gaze again and his eyes spark with so much honesty, your heart stops for a moment.

"Y/n."

His voice is so low and he's so close.

"I really like you, y/n."

Is this real? You pinch yourself, but no, you don't wake up. Chan is still there, an expression of so much hope and guilt and…love.

You swallow hard.

"What about Sana?"

"I broke up with her."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"When?" you ask, very much ignoring the crack in your voice.

"A few days after the party. Well, she broke up with me." Chan laughs a little. "I don't know. I think she could tell what was up with you and she told me to really think about what you mean to me. It was kind of bizarre, but yeah, I did think. A lot. And then Minho came to me and…now we’re here."

You can't help but laugh as well. Of course Sana could tell. And of course Chan didn't get it. You wonder if it would be weird if you thanked Sana for this and decide that yes, it would be weird. It's enough if you thank her in your head.

You sigh softly and cup Chan's face, thumbs tracing his warm cheekbones.

"I'm sorry for avoiding you. I was so upset, but like not at you. At myself. I thought… I thought it was all lost."

Chan nods. "It's okay, but you don't have to worry. Nothing is lost."

He tilts his head and presses a kiss to your palm. The spot tingles, his lips plush. You want to kiss him so badly.

"I like you too, Bang Chan," you whisper.

Chan giggles and envelops your hands with his'. He's so warm all over. His smile, his laugh, his touch.

You pull him closer and his eyes widen in surprise. This time, you giggle.

"Oppa, will you be more than my friend?"

Chan hums thoughtfully. "And what should I be?"

"Come on! Don't make me say it!"

"Nope, no idea what you want from me~"

You huff, pouting, and you refuse to play along with his game. So instead, you breach the last bit of space between you and finally kiss him.

It's gentle. That's all you can think of. It's gentle and almost hesitant, like you're both not quite sure how this works. Chan's lips are as soft as you imagined and he tastes like cherry chapstick that probably belongs to Minho. You tried it once, but it was too sweet. Not this time, though. Not on Chan.

Slowly, you pull away, and Chan leans his forehead against yours.

"I want to be more than your friend," he whispers.

"What does that make you then?" you tease and he laughs.

"Your boyfriend?"

"I would like that very much."

You kiss again, not sure who leans in first. It doesn't matter. Chan wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you so close that you feel like you're melting together. Every piece of clothing that is taken off heats you up more until you're dizzy again.

You don't care whose bed it is when Chan rolls on top of you, your lips slotting together like two puzzle pieces. His hands roam your body and it's hot, so hot. You're candle wax in Chan's arms, molding under his flame and sticking to his fingers.

It's where you belong. It's where you always belonged.

#stray kids #fanfiction #stray kids fanfiction #reader insert #bang chan x y/n #bang chan x you #bang chan x reader #female reader

46 notes · View notes

the-soliloquies-of-sadists · 3 years

Text

#246

“Here boy. I know who and what you are. Do you know who I am?… Liar. You’re a faggot liar. Yes you do. You have been drooling over me for weeks now. Follow me. I got us a room at the motel next door….

“The regulars here at the diner don’t care that I prefer fucking faggots like you over broads. I just don’t broadcast it like you do. I’ve seen you talking to some of the boys I have fucked. You know I have a big dick and that I pile drive boy cunt.

“I’ve seen you in the parking lot. You watch the guys like me going into the bookstore across the lot. You want to follow them in, but the bookstore won’t let you. They know you’re underage. Until today. Now you are legal to fuck. Yeah, I know your 18th birthday is today. I know a lot of things about you. I know you cruise the bookstore, and the bathroom the bar shares with the diner. I know you are finishing up at high school.

“Here’s our room. I fuck the owner and he let’s me use a secluded empty room whenever I need. So, you can scream when I tear up your cunt. Having a big dick has many many many advantages. I need to let off some steam from a long day on the farm. Get naked, I’m gonna get the ropes out. My reputation is well known that I am a twisted fucker. Hell my conquests told you the such, and yet you came with me here.

“Always remember this, I am always in control of everything. Right now, that includes you. Naked. And then get on your knees and face me. See, it’s natural for you to follow orders. And where’s your phone?… Hand it to me…. Continue stripping. Well,… You’re kinda scrawny. You’ve never worked a hard day at anything, and it shows. Damn your pecker is tiny. That’s the way I like it. My cock is fucking huge, and you need to realize your place is on your knees in front of real men. You will never be a real man. You do know that, right?…

“You know what I want you to do. I want you to beg me to fuck you. I want you to beg me to brutalize your cunt. And while you are begging me and degrading and humiliating yourself, I will be jacking off to you. Having a big dick requires a little extra tugging to get hard. I know you wouldn’t know anything about that. You are too focused on your cunt. And call it a cunt a number of times, especially when you are fingering it. I want you to tell me that you need for me to rape you. Your goal is to degrade yourself. Tell me how much of a faggot you are. And focus on your tiny clit there. Tell me how you envy any real man with a real sized dick. And the thing I need for you to beg me to rape you—not have sex, not make love—rape. Use that word often.

“Here look up at me, at your phone. Thanks for letting me use your face to unlock it. I will be recording this on your phone. I want you to have a record of how low you are. I want you to watch this every morning as you are about to jack off at home. Speaking of jacking off, I should take my cock out for you. Damn, even totally limp, it’s way bigger than yours hard.

“You have three minutes to fully degrade yourself. Go!…

“…That’s time. Ok. See how big you got me? The full nine and a half inch dick, ready to rape the hell out of you. Crawl over here and blow me, but first put on this blindfold. I don’t want you to see anything. Good, now show me how good you are as a faggot cocksucker. Throat me to the nut. Put as much spit on it as you can. That’s pretty much the lube I will be using to tear your cunt up. Maybe if you are good, I will use some spit on the cunt. Take your time, but throat me. Get into it faggot. I’m gonna chill here… Open that fucking throat… Gag on that monster….

“You really are pathetic. Get your ass on the bed, face down. Need to tie you down. What? Now you want out? Aww hell the fuck no. I said on the fucking bed. Ok. You really want this to be a rape don’t you? Look I know my way around ropes and tying up livestock. I do work in a farm, and I am a part of the local rodeo. Calling out for help ain’t going to help.

“And, I sent myself a copy of that video where you are begging me to rape you and to show you no mercy. Nobody will believe you. Just a few more seconds, and there! You ain’t going nowhere now. You are going to be in that position for some time. Your cunt is on display, ready to be mounted.

“But first, I’m going to fuckin’ welt you up. I got my son’s belt here; mine doesn’t move through the air as nicely as his, and besides I’m still wearing mine. You don’t even deserve me stripping for you. When it comes to whipping, I don’t stop to let you recover.

“Being your birthday, It’s eighteen strokes in a row. Start your fucking screaming now. One, two, three,… louder fucker, you deserve every one of these strokes… Eight, nine, ten,… I can already see the welts forming. Oh yeah, bright red cheeks get me leaking. When I hit number twenty-five, I’m going right to the root whether or not you are ready. And it’s not going to take me very long to nut in you. Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, and… eighteen.

“Quit your crying faggot. Here, bite down on my son’s belt. You really have me leaking here. And… all the way in. Fuck yes! This cunt hasn’t been fucked much, has it? Stop your screaming, I asked you a fucking question. You get fucked much?… No?… Wait, that was a cherry pop? Oh fuck yeah. I’m close to giving you some cream to go on your cherry pie. Oh yeah. Fuck. Take it bitch. Feel my load fill you up. Faggot.

“That’s what you have to look forward to for the next few days. Oh man, fuck. I’m gonna lay here for a while. Watch your head, my cigar is only an inch or two from your cheek. I don’t want to brand you,… well at least not yet. Let go of the belt. Holy shit. You really did bite down hard. I can’t wait to give this back to him and tell him how the teethmarks came about.

“Oh yeah, he knows I’m gay. He doesn’t care. He’s totally straight, and I mean totally straight. Now just lay there; you ain’t going anywhere. But I want you to hear this. Yeah, I kept my sex life away from him until one day when he walked in on me fisting his math teacher, Mr. Gunter.

“Oh yeah, he goes to the same high school as you. He too is ready to graduate. You know him, oh yes you do. You’ve been texting him all year, ever since he transferred to your school. You were not very nice to him. In fact, you and a few of your friends beat him up. And what reason did you have for giving him a black eye?… Don’t remember? You called him a faggot. You told your friends that he hit on you in gym class. Talk about projecting.

“When he came home suspended for fighting and with a black eye, I wanted details. He gave me your name and showed me your pic in the yearbook. And wouldn’t you know, I recognized you from your attempted bookstore runs. A week later you start hanging around the diner. You couldn’t get into the bar area, but you sat every Friday afternoon in that same spot in my line of vision, pretending to read that book while groping yourself. So subtle.

“I had your background run by a this cop I regularly fuck. He told me a shitload about you. He’s the one that informed the bookstore across the street that you were underage. There’s a boy—a year older than you—that I fuck who is a Facebook friend of yours showed me your wall. I got to go through every word you wrote while he was giving me head. And unlike you, he knows how to deep throat. Again, having a big dick has its advantages.

“And about that time, you and my son were suspended, you posted a viral video of a bullied kid getting revenge on the bully by sleeping with the bully’s mom. And your comment was something like, ‘Best served cold.’

“Funny thing is, I’m out. While I don’t broadcast it in this tiny town, but I don’t hide it. My son and ex-wife know. The ranch I work at knows. Hell, the main reason how I got the job was that I fucked the owner and told him that I was looking for a job. The guys at the bar all know. So how were you going to humiliate my son? He probably would say, ‘He fucked you? You ain’t the first, you won’t be the last.’ or something like that.

“So, what’s happening next for you? Certainly not humiliating my son. No, for you, I have plans. I’m gonna fuck you again. I’ll leave you tied up. The motel is going to get full later on tonight, mostly truckers. I’ve let the motel owner and the guy that works the bookstore that you are here ready for all horny truckers.

“Tomorrow, I’m going to pass you over to this biker club one of my friends is a member of. He already set up something really nasty for you. The gang already knows what a piece of shit you are. They can’t wait to get their hands on you, and I can’t wait to hear all about it. By the end of the weekend, your cunt will be destroyed. I will give you two black eyes to make up for the one you gave my boy. Most likely your hair will be removed. You are going to be beaten. Hell, my cop buddy is a former boxer. He’s going to string you up and use you as a punching bag.

“And in the end,… I will decide if you keep your balls. Wow. That’s the first time you have flinched while lying under me. Aw, shut up. I work with livestock every day. I know how to castrate a bull. I haven’t decided about you. Just keep that in mind throughout the weekend. You complain or resist, your balls will be in jeopardy.

“You probably won’t see much of me. But I will you. I have it arranged to have it all filmed for me. I expect to see a cum hungry faggot whore knowing his place of being used by real men. Your balls will depend on it. For me, I’m going to be with my son doing dad things.

“And I don’t plan on letting him in to the fact that you are a faggot whore lookin to get raped seeing, he already knows. How do I know? I text him, while you were trying to give me head. I wrote, from your phone, ‘I have to get this off my chest. I am a faggot whore. I can’t live in the closet anymore. Please share this video.’

“Then I sent him your video. While you are going to be in a living hell for the next four days, you won’t be able to stop him or anyone from finding out. This is how I want it. As I said before, I am always in control of everything. Oh, and happy birthday.”

422 notes · View notes

bleachhaven · 3 years

Text

Soutaicho’s Secret Admirer (Shunsui x Reader) — Part 5/6

Author’s Note:

It should be noted that this story is almost coming to a close...I’m sad to stop writing about Shunsui but it’s time to wrap this one up. So there’s maybe 1 or 2 more parts left.

Warning: A bit of smut ahead. One can only be seduced endlessly for so long without something happening about it.

–

Read Part 1, Part 2 , Part 3 and Part 4 first!

Uncharacteristically, Shunsui was late to arrive at the office. It was almost ten in the morning when he finally strolled in. Nanao would have admonished him without a thought but the dark circles beneath his eyes revealed he had already had a terrible night. She didn’t want to make it a terrible morning as well.

Shunsui didn’t have the excuse of drunken debauchery at some late night party for his tardiness. The last party he’d been to had been Lisa-chan’s Valentine’s Day celebration and that was over two weeks ago.

It was more or less about how his loneliness and melancholy had kept him up late into the night. Something he definitely didn’t want to burden sweet Nanao-chan about.

He had found himself strolling randomly in seireitei at around three in the goddamn morning because simply staying in his bed staring at his ceiling felt impossible. He didn’t have these kind of difficult nights too often but when he did have them, they were quite terrible.

Sure, he missed Juu. But his loneliness was a bit more than that this time.

It has been over two weeks since he had received anything from his beloved Secret Admirer. Fourteen whole days of complete silence from her was quite unusual, and he felt it acutely. Where was she?

The darkest of thoughts had plagued him at night. What if she was sent on a dangerous mission? What if she had been injured? He hated to think it...but what if she was never coming back? Hadn’t he honestly lost enough?

The thoughts spiraled as the evening progressed into the wee hours of the morning, growing darker and more melancholy.

He knew he was not the greatest catch in the Soul Society. That title fell to Byakuya, uncontested. Shunsui was older than everyone in seireitei - a thousand years too old, he’d say. He was nobility too but he wasn’t one to truly fit into that mould, which deterred most noblewomen from considering him.

He wasn’t what one would call conventionally handsome either. He knew he wasn’t ugly...but he wasn’t exactly...whole. Not anymore. Maybe once he would have held some appeal and he had many lovers who thought him handsome enough to have a tumble with him... but the eyepatch never failed to remind him that he was never going to be good looking, by anyone’s standards, with a goddamn hole in his face.

Most days, none of this would honestly bother him. But last night it did.

His beloved Secret Admirer probably came to the conclusion that he wasn’t worth all the trouble after all. Surely, there had to be a reason why he had never been able to have a long term relationship. He blamed it on his job but...was that all it was? Maybe he was just not meant to have a happily ever after with someone.

As romantic as he was, he didn’t really believe in the concept of happily ever after. He knew relationships were work. It was a commitment between two people who cared about each other to work on staying together through whatever. With time, he had put any thoughts of a relationship on the back burner. With his duty to the Gotei 13, and his responsibilities as well as the added burden of maintaining his reputation as the Soutaicho...it was a practical choice.

But his Secret Admirer had made him want. Had made him yearn for a happily ever after for himself in a way he never had before.

He wanted to be loved and cherished as much as he wanted to love and cherish that one special person in his life. But did he really deserve it?

He knew it was her silence that had his latent insecurities rising to the surface keeping him up at night.

So as sleep deprived as he was, he came to the office with a plan. He couldn’t bear her silence anymore so he was not going to. With everything that had come up in the office, he hadn’t been able to finish up the letter he had started to write to her. At that time, it had felt futile considering there was no way to send it to her.

But he had a brilliant idea. He would have it published in the next installment of the Seireitei Communication including just enough information so that she would know it’s him while withholding enough details to still keep it anonymous. He could trust Hisagi-kun to be discreet.

He had a plan, and it could actually work!

If only he could actually find that bit of lavender paper he had left on his desk.

“Nanao-chan, did you remove anything from my desk by any chance?” he asked, opening up drawers and bending down to check under the desk.

Nanao looked up from the training schedule she was working on. “Nothing more than the usual paperwork. Why what have you lost now?” she asked with an overexaggerated sigh.

“My, my, Nanao-chan. You make it sound like I lose things on a daily basis.”

“The only thing lost on a daily basis around here is my sanity,” she said, rolling her eyes. Still she relented. A distressed Taicho always meant a distressed Nanao. “Fine. Describe it to me and I will tell you if I saw it anywhere.”

“It was nothing official. Just a bit of lavender paper I had been writing on…” he trailed off seeing the look on her face. “What? Did you see it?”

“You lost the letter you were writing to you Secret Admirer?” she asked.

“Nanao-chan! How did you…?”

“You forget, Taicho,” she said quite matter of factly. “There’s nothing that goes on here I don’t know about. But I haven’t seen it. Maybe it got mixed up in some paperwork and got sent to another division. I don’t think anyone would recognize your flowery handwriting which you reserve for your personal correspondence anyway. So nothing to worry about.”

Shunsui simply stared at her. He has known his little fuktaicho for too long to not notice that something was off. All this time, he thought she was just laughing at his expense because he was mooning over someone he didn’t even know. But now...that look...the way she said it without even having to think about it...it all felt fishy somehow. Nanao-chan was up to something.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” she huffed, correcting the papers on her desk that didn’t need correcting. A nervous habit that always gave her away. “If you don’t have any serious work, I have a pile of forms…”

“You know perfectly well who it is, don’t you, Nanao-chan?” he interrupted her attempts to distract him.

“I don’t know what you’re…”

“Please, Nanao-chan. It’s perfectly obvious you know exactly what I am talking about. Just...tell me…” he said.

He was so serious and intent. Nanao had only ever seen him like that in the heat of the worst kind of battle. She dropped her pretenses as well.

“She and I have both left enough breadcrumbs for you as it is. So if you’re so desperate to know who she is, why don’t you do the work to actually find out?” she asked him. “Clearly the girl cares about you but is terrified to approach you. Who wouldn’t be considering who you are and the position you hold. She is a nice girl, Taicho. But as things stand, she wouldn’t be the one to approach you so maybe you should find out for yourself who she is and do the approaching.”

So Nanao did indeed know who his Secret Admirer was. He understood her reasons why she couldn’t tell him. It wasn’t really her secret to divulge. Shunsui had to respect that despite his desperation.

“Is my sweet Nanao-chan giving her taicho dating advice?” he teased instead.

“Yes, I am,” she declared with a raised brow. “For even I can see how far you’ve fallen that you need advice from me to get yourself a date!”

Shunsui gasped, buying into the friendly teasing. “Nanao-chan is so mean to her taicho!”

Finally, they both got back to work, but Shunsui’s mind was still thinking about what Nanao had said. Apparently breadcrumbs were laid out and he hadn’t even noticed! He clearly had to pay more attention.

He tried to outline the facts in his mind.

The letters were always lemon scented. It could be a shampoo or some kind of scented cream...but it smelled fresh, almost as if unintentional. Something to further ponder upon.

The gifts were always elaborate but simple and he hadn’t been able to trace it through any vendor. The chocolates were handmade so his little Secret Admirer was probably very good with cooking and baking.

The handwriting was very distinctive as well. Especially the way she looped all her Ls and Bs with a distinctive flowy curve.

So far, the facts didn’t fit well into place to identify her as anyone he knew...but somehow, it felt like it was just barely within reach now. As if it’s only missing one final puzzle piece for the whole thing to come together.

That night, sleep evaded him once more. He couldn’t deny it. He missed her! He couldn’t help but wishing that she was right next to him, romancing him with more than just her words. He wished he could cherish her in all the ways he desperately yearned to.

He took the letters he kept at hand in the drawer of his bedside table. He found that he liked to read them sometimes, and no matter how many times he read her words, they still managed to make him feel things. The shape of her words, the texture of the paper...it comforted him.

However, the sensual seductive ones were his downfall.

With all the time he has been alive, and all the experience he’s had, one would think he would be able to resist the temptation. But he often couldn’t.

Reading those letters, describing how she wanted to make love under the moonlight or how she yearned to taste him...it had him imagining soft feminine hands touching him. His hand would unconsciously reach into his hakama of its own volition and grasp his manhood, wondering what it would feel like to be touched by someone who ardently wanted to please him.

It wouldn’t take him too long at all. He would cum, gasping into the empty bedroom, wishing he had a name he could moan. Wishing she was here for him to hold.

Sated, he’d finally fall asleep. Yet though his body was satisfied, his mind wasn’t. He couldn’t help but feel alone on this big empty bed.

That coveted final piece of the puzzle arrived as, of all things, more paperwork. He was mindlessly flipping through some reports after lunch the next day when it popped out at him like well-lit beacon.

It wasn’t anything special. Just a request for more funds to be allocated for a better training ground for the 13th division. Except it was filled out by his beloved Secret Admirer. The handwriting screamed her identity at him, looping Ls and Bs and all.

“_____-san,” he whispered to himself, wondering how he could have missed it.

Suddenly, everything was perfectly crystal clear.

Everyone knew that while Kuchiki Rukia settled in enough to pick her own fuktaicho, the 3rd seat of the 13th was acting in that role in an unofficial capacity, putting her in-charge of all the paperwork coming and going from that division. A reason why she was always showing up at the 1st...giving her ample opportunities to learn his habits well enough to leave behind those delightful missives without ever getting caught.

The lemon scent was from all the lemonade he knew she made for her division and for some special occasions in the seireitei. It was her specialty, a way of creating comfort and homeliness for her subordinates. He had tasted her chocolates twice - once at the Valentine’s Day party itself and then when she gifted them to him specifically. Both facts which had been pointed out by Nanao-chan while _____-san stood right next to him. No wonder she had flushed red then. It hadn’t been out of embarrassment but possibly from thinking she might get caught. The little minx.

He couldn’t help but remember every encounter he had with her in the recent past. Her cute blushes...the way she gasped out “Soutaicho!” Come to think of it, every time he saw her, he felt like she almost called him Shunsui out of habit only to change it to his official title at the last minute. He even recalled the twinkle in her eyes every time she looked up at him.

He couldn’t believe it. He finally knew who his Secret Admirer was and she’d been right before his eyes, had he only known where to look. He couldn’t help smiling, thinking about all the ways he would get back at her for running him around in circles. He would torture her so, so deliciously…

“You have that dopey smile on your face. Should I be worried?” Nanao asked, breaking him out of his thoughts.

“Hmm…? Of course not, Nanao-chan,” he said, not really reassuring her at all. “I am heading out. Be back soon!”

“Taicho!” she called out but he was already gone.

...to be continued.

Tags: @seawater-aurelia-writing @xerneussenpai @yakuzussian-3rd @94z-93 @anywaffle @flower98child @sadhoewinter @mindyourbaynay

Get added to the Tag List here!

Or check out more of my work through the Masterlist here!

#queued #kyouraku shunsui #Shunsui Kyouraku #kyouraku shunsui x reader #shunsui kyoraku x reader #shunsui kyouraku x reader #shunsui x reader #bleach imagines #bleach headcanons #bleach scenarios #bleach x reader #bleach #bleach fanfiction #bleach anime #soutaicho's secret admirer

540 notes · View notes

yanderenightmare · 3 years

Note

Hey, can I have yandere!shinsou to insult the chubby!reader bcs she really made him angry to her by being rebellious so it ended up with she is getting fuck so hard by him 🥵💦

yandere ! SHINSO HITOSHI

goodiebag WARNINGS: nsfw, dubcon/noncon, mind-control, jealousy

MISTAKES COME BEST WHEN SERVED IN THREES

She’d been bugging him all night.

They were hauled up in his dorm-room with homework, had been so for hours. And it wouldn't have been too bad, but she wouldn't shut up.

She laid on her stomach, elbows propped up beneath her, tits mushed perfectly into his mattress, looking like a comfortable pillow fo support, squeezed like two plump balloons in her top with the way she bounced on them. She always bounced as she spoke, so bubbly, voluptuous lips sucking on her pen in those breaks where she didn't have anything to say, looking like a cute little bunny with the chubs of her cheeks, her legs kicking in the air, ass wiggling like a puppy wagging its tail, as she babbled on and on and on about her stupid crush.

Disgusting. He’d lost count of how many times he’d rolled his eyes, sustained clicking his tongue in an exasperated fashion, now feeling the growing need to go puke his guts up.

“He’s got such pretty hair too, like... it’s fluffy, like a cat, like he has secrets hidden inside there or something...” He wanted to claw his eyes out, but he couldn't stop looking at her, those lips, that cheeky smile, her childish giggle. His ears bleeding, not wanting to hear another silly foolish detail about whomever the fuck had her so neatly tied around there finger. “I just want to run my hands through it, you know?” She fiddled with a lock of her own hair while she daydreamed, finger raking through the pretty shiny treads. “Tangle my fingers inside it and ride his face.” That’s when he snapped.

It took only a split second to process, perhaps because he’d imagined it so many times already. Her plush thighs hugging his face, hands grabbing the fat of her ass, setting the rhythm, not letting her go until he feels her dripping down his chin. “Who?” He sounded like an owl, looked like one too. Eyes intense as they stared at her place on his mattress.

Such audacity she had, talking up wet-dreams of someone else in his fucking bed.

Her brows knitted, looking at him, legs stopping to rub together in the air. “Hm?” She only hummed, but it was enough.

“What’s his name?” He repeated, and this time she had no choice but to answer.

Her features blanched, eyes pooling with void, enslaved, gorgeous, pupils blown large like a black lake, like ink ready to write all her secrets, to spill her guts for him.

“Shinso Hitoshi.”

The name dropped from her lips without hesitance, and despite the monotonous sound of it, despite lackluster at the absence of her substantial voice, her full-bodied brazen wild tone, it still managed to make his heart stop, stammer in his chest, before beating along like it usually does, like a skipping rock, picking up its pace, soon to be hammering like some war-drum, fueling war-paint through his system, spiked and frayed, making the thin hairs at the nape of his neck rise, his purple mane frizz with static.

Thoroughly put out, enough to lose his hold on her.

“Did you...” She shook from the shock, from the shackles. “Did you just-” Her palms pushed into her temple as her eyes scrutinized, pulling her knees to curl into a sitting position on the bed. “Use your quirk on me?”

Her frame had bled into a blurry view at the light of his bliss, his smile widened into a sneer as sharp as a knife, eyes refocusing at the sound of her voice breaking the otherwise pin-drop silence and galloping of his heart.

He scoffed at her pout, at the brimming, swirling vivid look of betrayal climbing in her eyes, almost drooling at the bashful blush that adorned her cheeks, having never seen her shy or humiliated before and finding an unparalleled sense of victory at the sight of it.

“What?” He shrugged, sly smile nudging further up on his face, smug and victorious, uncaring of whatever feeling he must have stirred with knowing how she actually felt plain and simple and outspoken, pulled right from her chest, still echoing on the walls, ringing in his mind, dripping from his teeth. He could almost laugh. “Not the guy you thought I was?”

“This isn't funny, Toshi.” Believe him, he didn't think so either. “I trusted you.”

“Your first mistake.” His lilac eyes shone with such sinister glee, such carnal sadistic pleasure, she felt it like a claw on her throat. “Liking me is your second.”

“You’re such a jerk.” Her voice strained, caught between being vicious to teary-wet. He could only imagine, like he’d done so many sleepless nights already, the catlike whimpers and whines she’d spill once he did like she suggested earlier.

She pushed herself off his bed with a bounce and huff and a sweet little sniffle, walking past where he still sat seated on the chair by his desk, hand drumming lean knuckled fingers on the table. “Leaving so soon, Kitten?” He didn't bother getting up. He didn't need to.

“Fuck- you.” She mumbled, her voice already a croak of suppressed cries, her heart aching in her chest as she walked to the door.

The smile cracked even farther, more salacious, more enjoyed, gorged and savored. “Fuck me? Heh, that’ll be your third...” He scoffed, laugh lacing his mocking words. “Stop.” Was all he needed to say to turn all her nerves against her and bend them to do his bidding. “Come here.”

His hand still drummed on the table, not having bothered turning around as he heard her approach him again. Perfectly timed steps, one after the other, mechanical almost, until she stood, plain and simple, without resistance, between his legs, all up for grabs. His fingers stopped drumming.

Then there was silence again. But she would say the smirk on his face was loud, and so was the glint in those lavender orbs, warm in her head, in her cheeks, hot and heavy with how he eyed her, up and down. Hotter as those arms, lined with the muscles of a man, straining veins and fresh bruises from his training, reaching out scarred hands to touch her ample hips, pulling her closer, tighter between his thighs. Fingers, strangely confident and lax, unbothered and unhurried, soon fiddling with the clasp that kept her short school skirt together at the waist, pinching what pliable flesh he found as he explored. Other hand ascending with the same grace, working slowly as he twisted the buttons to her shirt open, popping one after the other, face buried and pushed into the welcoming warm embrace of her breasts with a heavy sigh, lips dragging up and down the valley of them, nose rubbing and cuddling into her skin, teeth soon gracing alongside his tongue licking at her. Her shirt and skirt falling to the floor, pooling around her ankles, meanwhile his hand moved to the back to pinch loose the clasp of her bra, where the other hand had made itself busy feeling up the thickness of her ass like putty between his greedy fingers.

“On the bed.” He growled, face still mushed into her skin, all clothes except her precious cotton panties left in a pile by the desk.

And off she went, Shinso getting up and out of his chair to trail after her, towering over her short frame, looking down at the back of her head and how it seemed to bob up and down as she walked, hips swaying like a feline from side to side as she stalked, until she turned on her heel and plopped down with a bounce. Always so bouncy. So plump and full of life. Juicy like a peach.

He got down on his knees quickly, hands reached out to grab her knees, prying them apart carefully, opening up for a view of soft plush doughy flesh and the valley that made her panties look like a heart just beneath her tummy, all for him to bite into. He groaned, hands curled as they raked down from grabbing at her ass, until they hooked under her knees, pushing her up and down on her back, tits bouncing from the fall, his other hand giving them the attention they deserve, kneading one breasts in his palm, fingers going from tweaking the nib to pulling at it like picking up a water-balloon by the tail, managing to wake her.

“Get off!” She gasped, whined at the harsh touch, hands coming to push at his hard abs. But he wasn't budging, hands easily and softly finding her wrists to keep them from flailing, his dark chuckle stirring that something deep within her gut.

“Get off?” He repeated, questioningly, a slight snicker playing in his tone. “What?” It was clear he was amused, that he had no regrets and no intentions of backing down. “You don't like it when I touch you?” He pushed her down, drowned her in the sheets, hiked his knee up on the bed to earn leverage and height, like a tower toppling over, pushing her wrists into the mattress, head dipping to kiss at her collarbone, nose sliding up her neck as she shook her head in slight protest were any verbal answers were sure to be taken advantage of. “Well-” He scoffed. “That’s a lie.” His words whispered at her ear, as he smoothly hooked his foot under her leg to push them open, knee fitting snugly between the tight space of her thighs, hiking her up over the tops of his own, fitting between her. “We both know you’ll love it when I touch you, Kitten.”

He bit her earlobe with another snicker, kissed her cheek chastely, slipping his tongue into her mouth as he dunked in for one hungry sloppy kiss, loving her adorable girlish squeals beneath him, how her hands had stopped struggling, a tinge of rose blushing her cheeks once he pulled up for air.

“There’s no need to be shy.” Pupils blown, his eyes had never seemed darker. “You belong to me.” He kissed down her neck, bit at her skin. “Every single inch of you.” His hands relieving their post, leaving two smaller hands to stay where they’d been placed. “These tits.” Lips kissing the bud of her breast, teeth rolling it on his tongue. Rough fingers grabbing like claws into the cake of her thighs again, spreading them further apart. “These thighs.” He growled, hands cupping her ass to rut his bulge into her thinly clothed sex, lips crashing onto her once again, even as she yelped against him. “This ass.” He groaned, rocking into her. “All of you. Every single curve.” He purred. “There won’t be an ounce of your being left untouched, unlicked, un-fucked once I’m done.”

#yandere hitoshi #yandere hitoshi shinso #yandere shinsou #yandere shinso hitoshi #yandere Hitoshi Shinso #yandere hitoshi shinsou #shinsou hitoshi #shinso hitoshi #hitoshi shinso x reader #Shinso Hitoshi #Shinsō Hitoshi #hitoshi #Shinsou #shinso #shinsou fluff

632 notes · View notes

secretshinigami · 3 years

Text

All Noble Things

Author: @kiranatrix For: @resilicns Pairings/Characters: Near and Gevanni Rating/Warnings: Gen, no warnings Prompt: Near reflecting on his relationship with Wammy’s and L’s reputation Author’s notes: In How to Read, it says that Gevanni’s hobby is building ships in a bottle. So I imagined a scene where Near is observing Gevanni, now in the role of Watari, building a special ship. The time period is flexible but I imagined it after the C-Kira case and before the case with Minoru. This is a loose interpretation of your prompt but I hope you enjoy it!

—

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you, Gevanni.” Near didn’t look up as he carefully laid out another domino on the floor, perfectly spaced from its neighbor and approximately two centimeters from chaos. Pinched fingers pulled back carefully and twisted around a strand of white hair. “Two things, really.”

Gevanni looked up from his workbench as the long but comfortable silence between them was broken. Since Roger had died and he’d taken on the role of Watari, he was usually the question-asker. Would you like lunch now? Have you heard back about this or that piece of evidence? Did you have another nightmare last night?

He’d gotten used to it, to Near. To being the bedrock that an island could rest upon. “Two questions?”

No, he was more of a species imported to Near’s world and being gradually altered by the isolation, evolving to fill his niche. But he had no complaints–it was a quiet, stable life and Near paid him well. He didn’t mind the solitude. “You’re exceeding your daily allotment. I’ll have to demand a raise if this keeps up.”

“I believe I gave you a raise just three months ago. If these demands keep up, I’ll have to find another Watari.” Near deadpanned it but his eyes flicked up briefly, and Rester knew he was joking. Another domino clinked against the terrazzo floors, this one with hand-carved scrimshaw detailing a breaching whale.

Gevanni snorted and turned back to the ship in a bottle he was working on. “Good luck finding someone else to source those pajamas with the specific blend of Pima cotton you prefer. I’ve kept that a secret. Iron-clad job security.” He grinned as he carefully reached a long wire into the bottle to pat down blue and white putty mimicking ocean waves. “So, what’s question number one?”

“Can you tie back my hair? It keeps getting in the way.” Near flicked a long strand over his shoulder but it fell again, dangling dangerously close to his creation. “Mind the–”

“Dominos? Yeah, I’m practically a ninja at this point.” Gevanni pushed his loupe glasses to the top of his head before carefully making his way over spiraling lines of set-up dominos to Near at the center. He knelt and pulled a hair-tie from his pocket, holding it between his teeth as he gathered up all the silvery strands. “Holf spill,” he murmured around the band. Near was stone-still as he made a quick and slightly messy ponytail, leaving some loose hair around the face for twirling. “Better?”

“Much. Thank you.” Near very briefly made eye contact as Gevanni went back to his workbench before looking back to his pile of dominos. He sorted through them for another scrimshaw piece. Gevanni had made a special set for him on his last birthday but he always saved them for the end.

“Mmhm.” Gevanni slid back into his chair and picked up the little ship, a model of a 19th-century whaler. “So what was the second question?”

“I was curious what you were working on.” Near let a domino tumble across his knuckles, back and forth, back and forth. “You’ve never spent that much time on just one ship before.” He caught the domino with his thumb and placed it next in line.

“Oh, so you noticed?” Gevanni held up the little whaler on his palm, clearly proud of the highly detailed craftsmanship. All the masts were down and tied with an array of strings that could be pulled up once it was in the bottle to raise them. “I guess this one’s special since it doesn’t really exist. Thought I’d challenge myself. It’s…well, it’s how I imagine the Pequod to look, the whaling ship in–“

“Moby Dick?” Near stared at the miniature vessel, head slightly cocked as he smoothed a loose strand of hair. “The ship Captain Ahab used to chase his white whale.”

Gevanni smiled. “That’s right. It’s one of my favorite books. Have you read it?”

“Years ago. I remember not liking it very much. The whale killed him in the end.” Near placed the last couple of dominos and let out a long sigh. The moments before flicking the first piece were the ones he both cherished and dreaded. The satisfaction of creation could be drawn out like a monotone note, but when it was finished, the spectacular destruction was often over too soon. So, he hesitated and stood up instead, padding to Gevanni’s workbench to watch more creation.

“I bet you’d like the book more these days. Single-minded obsession to defeat a power past human control? Throwing all caution and sense of self-preservation to the wind? The thrill of the chase?” Gevanni arched a brow. “Can’t tell me that doesn’t sound familiar.”

Near frowned slightly and hunched in on himself. “I suppose you mean L. Or do you characterize me as so foolish?”

“You’re L now.” Gevanni disliked that he had to remind Near of that even now, years after the first L had died. “But yes, it reminds me of what Matsuda told us about your predecessor’s obsession with Kira. I never met the first L, but maybe I can understand him, in a way.” He quoted Melville, "All my means are sane, my motive and my object mad.’ You’re L but you’re not him, and I’m glad for it.”

Near wasn’t sure if he was glad for it or not. So many times over the years he’d compared himself to that avatar and wondered if he could measure up. Drily, “I guess that makes me Ishmael."

"You survived, didn’t you? Lived to tell the tale and learn what he couldn’t."

Gevanni turned back to the little ship, carefully threading another string through the rear-most mast. He worked quietly for a while, cognizant of Near’s focused attention and feeling sorry for bringing up the Kira case. It wasn’t often that Near took such an interest in his own projects, or perhaps the man was merely thinking about what he’d said. “Sit down, if you want to. I’m about to get to the exciting part.”

Near pulled a chair closer and slinked into it, one leg pulled tight to his chest and the other dangling off the end. “Which is the exciting part? Stuffing it into the bottle?”

“That’s part of it. The thrilling part for me is raising the masts and sails inside the bottle.” Gevanni pointed to the flat masts and the multiple lines of string leading from them. “If anything goes wrong or a string gets tangled…or some bit of glue doesn’t hold, well–”

“You’re screwed.” Near smiled faintly and rested his chin on his knee. “Hours of planning for one moment of glory. Or disaster.” It also sounded familiar, so familiar.

“Exactly.” Gevanni chuckled and looked over at Near, pleased to see that small, rare smile. That in itself was the product of so much patience, of hours spent in understanding and the slow building of confidence and trust. “Once I get the ship in, would you like to raise the sails?”

Near’s eyes widened and he rocked slightly in the chair. That was Gevanni’s moment of glory and he deserved it after so much time and hard work. The inlaid wood, the meticulous paint, the delicately carved and articulated ship’s wheel capped in brass. The hand-sewn sails and gold script that read Pequod on the ship’s side. Each detail was evidence that someone else had built this and he would only be stealing the best part, swooping in for the end of the trick.

“You built it so you should do it.” It didn’t help that he was worried about making a mistake and ruining it at the last moment. How would it even fit? Despite the masts lying flat, it seemed impossible that the ship would make it inside the bottle. “I don’t know how.”

Gevanni sensed Near’s hesitation and uncertainty, recognizing the subtle tics of anxiety. “I can show you. You’re great at stuff like this.” He motioned to the vast lines and towers of dominos filling the room. “Plus, I trust you.”

When Near didn’t answer, he turned back to the ship, placing a small line of glue at the bottom and oh-so-carefully maneuvering it into the narrow mouth of the glass bottle and onto the ‘waves’ of translucent blue putty. It was a very tight fit and when it stuck down in the right position, he let out a sigh of relief.

“Not bad, huh?” The strings dangled from the bottle’s mouth as he held it up to show Near. “Offer still stands.”

Near wanted to do it, to try. Honestly, he wanted to ask Gevanni to show him how to build one of his own, how to trump the rigid enclosure and build something impossible inside. To raise it up not by magic but by human ingenuity and patience. A creation not to destroy but to keep.

“Alright.” His fingers moved from his hair to tentatively touch the white strings hanging from the bottle’s mouth. “All of them?”

“Just these.” Gevanni pointed out several lines connected to the three masts. “Don’t yank, just pull slowly until you feel resistance and I’ll tape them up.”

“If it works.”

Gevanni laughed quietly. “It’ll work. Stop stalling.”

Near mumbled, “I’m not stalling,” but stalled a moment more before gently tugging the strings. He made a soft noise in the back of his throat when all three masts raised in unison, perfectly aligned and straight. He smiled as Gevanni secured the strings, then slid off the chair to gaze at the bottle from the side. This floating world, this impossible thing that’s bottled the sea. “I can see why you like these so much.”

“It passes the time.” Gevanni felt warm inside since it was rare that they connected like this, despite all the time spent in each other’s company. He glued the strings to the ship with a long wire and then cut them, leaving no trace of how it had really been made. Setting it on the bench to dry, he said, “Would you like to have it? I have about a dozen. I mean, if you want it.”

“As a warning against white whales?” Near smirked and climbed back into the chair. He fingered the hem of his specially-ordered Pima cotton pajamas, the exact blend he preferred. “Or for the memory of Ahab?”

“Neither? Or…maybe both.” Gevanni knew that so much had changed for Near when Kira died. Monster or not, that moment of destruction had ultimately felt unsatisfying. He knew Near struggled with assuming the name and reputation of L, a legacy that had become so confused in the mind of a world that would never know two L’s had died and a third now had to make peace with that. It was easier to bottle ships than emotions.

Mildly, “Or maybe just because it’s something we built together.” It was odd, but somehow it would mean a lot to him for Near to have it. “How about it?”

Near found a loose string at the hem of his pants and yanked it, snapping the thread. He got up and crouched beside the winding, spiraling rows of dominos and pressed a slender finger against the first one. That catalyst set off the reaction, the staccato clack clack clack! that echoed in the high-ceilinged room. It was over in seconds and silence crept in again.

“I’d like that.”

-End-

[The title comes from a quote in Moby Dick: "A noble craft, but somehow a most melancholy. All noble things are touched with that.” It reminded me of Gevanni’s rather solitary hobby as well as the occupation of solving cases as L.]

#fanfiction #death note #submission #near #gevanni #ratings: general #kiranatrix #resilicns #Near's Bday Finale 2k21

30 notes · View notes

reluctant-mandalore · 4 years

Text

🎃Mandoctober🎃Day 23: Rifle

After being captured, the Mandalorian is shocked to see you come to his rescue while skillfully wielding his pulse rifle.

Warnings: Canon typical violence, mentions of blood and injury. Weapons usage (pulse rifle). Also reader kicking some scummy bounty hunter ass. Not beta read.

Pairing: Din Djarin x Gender Neutral Reader (also badass reader)

Word Count: 1,644

a/n: Hey everyone! Just a short and sort of cheeky fic about the reader using Mando’s pulse rifle to save him. I’m not good at writing fight scenes so its mostly just ambiguous without much detail to it. Anywho, I thought it was a nice little change up from some of the typical stuff I write! Endings kinda weird ngl, but I honestly had no clue how to end it. So... 👀

The Mandalorian had never been more angry in his life. The job was supposed to be a simple one that involved the capture and a return of a petty thief, but of course nothing seemed to be that easy for him. Out of all the things that could have gone wrong with this job, he never thought it would turn out to be a plot meant to capture the Mandalorian and the child.

This was what exactly had happened though, and what was supposed to be a simple job, had turned into something much more complicated. He had ended up finding himself ridiculously outnumbered and overpowered more quickly than he had liked, resulting in his capture by the other bounty hunters. How he fell to some scummy low-life hunters he’d never know, but it had happened, and now he had to find a way out of the situation.

The other bounty hunters had chuckled and chattered in delight over being able to trick the Mandalorian. The confidence they had felt from doing so wafted off of them in waves, annoying the beskar hunter beyond belief. Once he got himself out of this, he’d make sure to wipe those smirks right of their cheeks.

One of the hunters had sauntered over to the cuffed Mandalorian, confidence in each step he took. He only stopped when he was standing mere inches in front of the imprisoned man. At first the hunter had only stared at him, his head tilting at the sight of the blood which dripped from the wound in Mando’s side.

“That’s gotta hurt, huh?”

The Mandalorian didn’t reply, refusing to waste words on someone like the hunter before him. This man held no honour in his eyes, and as far as he was concerned, he wasn’t worth a single syllable from his own lips.

“Not goin’ to talk, are ya?” He laughed, “Should hav’ expected as much from someone of yer kind.”

The smirk on his lips was crooked, his eyes holding a sinister glare, as his voice dripped with more venomous taunts, “Won’t be long till the rest of the boys get back with the asset and that precious little ‘friend’ of yers anyway.”

Flames of anger began to ignite within the Mandalorian at the mention of you and the child. The thought of the two of you being in danger now due to his oversight made his blood boil and his heart ache in panic. He knew he had to find a way to get out of this in order to save you both. He couldn’t stand the thought of knowing that you were in trouble, and it honestly terrified him to his core.

The concern he felt made him begin to pull at the restraining device holding him, ignoring the pain which shot through him from his wound that continued to bleed steadily. Seeing this had made the hunters in close proximity laugh at his attempt, the one standing before him loudest among the bunch. Their reactions had only solidified his need to free himself though, and his mind desperately searched for a solution for his current predicament.

“Ya know…” The hunter trailed off, eyeing the beskar covered man and the helmet which rested on his head, “I heard once that Mandalorians don’t ever remove their helmets.”

One of the other hunters had scoffed, “That’s ridiculous!”

“No it’s true!” Another had piped in, “I heard they don’t ever show their face to no one.”

Murmurs had spread out among the group of hunters nearby now, small bits of bickering could be heard as they discussed the rumors around his helmet. The Mandalorian had frozen in place at hearing their words, as now he was also becoming increasingly worried for the creed he had swore. It wouldn’t be the first time an enemy has attempted to remove his helmet after all, and he wouldn’t put it past these ones to try as well.

“Well Mando is it true?” The hunter before him asked, “Hav’ ya never really taken off that bucket of yers?”

Silence. The only sound coming from the Mandalorian, who sat in his own blood, was the soft intake of breaths he took. Behind him, his hands fiddled with the restraining device quietly, hoping he’d be able to get it undone before the hunter tried whatever he was thinking of doing.

“Don’t matter if ya won’t answer.” The hunter taunting him approached closer now, his grimy hand grabbing roughly at the chin of the helmet shielding the Mandalorian’s face from view. “Cause I want a peek, whether you like it or-”

The man never got to finish his words, as in an instant he had turned to puffs of ashes and sparks before the Mandalorian. Everyone in the dimly lit room had jumped from surprise at the sudden attack, not prepared for it to occur, and panic soon flowed from hunter to hunter, as they tried to find the source of the blast.

After the first shot, it didn’t take much longer for more to follow. Every shot from the pulse rifle in question hitting its desired targets without fail, the bright blasts shooting across the open area and disintegrating each hunter they managed to hit in an instant. The other bounty hunters fell quickly, not able to keep up with the assault that was suddenly brought upon them, and the Mandalorian watched in bewilderment at the chaos taking place before him.

Honestly, he just really hoped that this unknown person with a pulse rifle was here to rescue him, though he knew not to get his hopes up either way.

Once again silence had filled the space, the other bounty hunters now either piles of ash or limps bodies on the floor surrounding him. Shuffling could be heard in the distance, and he watched impatiently for his rescuer to come into view, though nothing could prepare him for what he was about to see.

The Mandalorian had felt his jaw drop while watching you walk out from the shadows, his pulse rifle held firmly in your grasp. The light filtering in through the cracks of the ceiling made itself into a shimmering veil around your form, illuminating you in the darkened space, and making you seem like a divine being sent from the maker themselves.

“Hey Mando!” Your voice was cheerful and light, almost as if you didn’t just blast a bunch of men twice your size to pieces, “Sorry I’m a little late.”

His mouth had moved in an attempt to form words, but the shock running through him kept them firmly in his throat. He didn’t know what to say or how to react when seeing you here. He never expected to have you come to his rescue, and honestly he wasn’t even aware that you knew how to shoot.

A happy hum had left you as you went to work untying your Mandalorian companion, removing the restraining device that had made itself home onto his wrists. Afterwards, you had helped him stand, allowing him to put his weight onto you, while he winced from the wound on his side.

“Careful now, don’t want to make that any worse than it already is.” You said, worry crossing your features at the sight of his injury.

Din looked around, still shocked by the devastation brought on by you and a single rifle, “Did...Did you do all this on your own?”

“Of course?” You said, your face morphing to that of confusion, “Now come, let’s get out of here. Your son is waiting for you back at the ship and that wound needs to be looked at.”

Helping him walk out of the building and out into the daylight, you guided him all the way back to the Razor Crest. When finally back at the ship, you had even helped him up the ramp, settling him on one of the crates in the hull before moving away to find some medical supplies.

The hatch to the child’s cot was closed—hinting that the little one was taking his evening nap—which made the Mandalorian relieved to see. He didn’t want the child to see him in this state. The child didn’t need more things like this to weigh him down at such a young age.

“Oh yeah!” You said suddenly, grabbing his attention, as you maneuvered his pulse rifle off your shoulder before holding it out for him to take, “I borrowed your pulse rifle, it's really nice! Probably one of the best I’ve ever used.”

After your comment and return of his rifle, you went back to searching through his med supplies and medpacs to find the bacta patches. While you did so, the Mandalorian gently ran his fingers over the rifle in his hands, the shock of seeing your skill with it still bouncing around in his mind. The need to ask you about your handling of the pulse rifle crawled at his throat, but he resisted speaking at first, as he wasn’t sure how to word his questions without coming off as rude.

He was honestly surprised to see the whole thing go down. He never knew that you were so handy with a gun when he had first hired you to work for him, and honestly assumed you couldn’t. At times you seemed too sweet to ever pick up a blaster of any sort, much less a full on pulse rifle. Clearly, he still had much to learn about his new partner.

“You know…” He trailed off when he finally spoke, a hint of wonder in his tone, as he looked up at you from the gun. “You never told me you could shoot.”

A smirk spread across your lips at his words, and you looked over at him with a medpac in hand, a shrug of your shoulders quickly following suit.

“You never asked.”

---

Tags:

@starrywatermelon @ah-callie @readsalot73 @karnita-mexicana

#the mandalorian #mandoctober #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din #din x reader #the mandalorian x reader #mando x reader #gender neutral reader #mando #mandalorian #pulse rifle #canon typical violence #mentions of violence #mentions of blood #mentions of injury #star wars fanfic #the mandalorian fanfic #not beta read

191 notes · View notes

vintagedolan · 4 years

Text

dark (part two)

this is a continuation of dark, which you can read here

after the break in, you try to put on your brave face, but you’re not as unaffected as you pretend to be

word count: 4.6k

warnings/tags: dark themes

feel free to send in requests! and check out my masterlist if you wanna :)

Nothing felt worse than overstaying your welcome, and although he would never say anything, you felt bad for taking up so much of Nick’s space in his already small apartment. So, you finally put your foot down on the third night in the twin bed, sitting up to look at Grayson as he laid against the pillows.

“We’re going back tomorrow. We aren’t gonna just hide out here.”

“Are you ready to go back?” There was no pity in his tone, just sincere concern as he rested his hand on your hip, rubbing circles. He was constantly touching you now, a reassurance for him more than for you.

“No, but we don’t really have a choice do we?” You let out a dry laugh, resisting the urge to scratch at the scab on your neck. It was still a bit tender, but you’d refused the bandage - it just made it more noticeable, put you on edge.

“Of course we do. We aren’t going back until you’re 100% ready. I mean that.”

“Grayson. I don’t know if I’m ever gonna be 100% ready,” you admitted, hating that you sounded a bit weak, a bit scared. You’d never admit anything like that to anyone but Grayson, and you watched carefully to see how he was going to take it. It was like clicking through pictures on a ViewMaster, each one changing rapidly before your eyes - sadness, anger, fear, uncertainty. It was killing him to see you, his strong girl, feeling fragile.

“Hey. C’mere.” He didn’t wait for you, instead just pulled you tightly against his chest, knowing that at least if you were in his arms he could keep you safe. “We’ll rent a different house or something. Hell, I’ll buy a new house, sell the one we have.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” you joked, but even in the darkness of the room you could tell there was nothing humorous about it to him. His arms only tightened.

“I’m not being dramatic. I’m gonna do whatever it takes to make you feel safe again, and if that’s what I have to do then that’s what I’ll do.”

And Grayson was a man of his word.

It was mostly subtle things, and nothing out of the ordinary. Grayson was a protective man after all, and always had been, even in the first days of your relationship. But now, it was just that tiny bit more noticeable. Instead of resting his hand on the small of your back when you walked to the car the next morning, he held onto your hip, pressed you up against his side until you were safe in the passenger seat. He kept a hand on your thigh in the car, too focused on making sure you were okay to even listen to the music he put on. He put smooth cat on autopilot, knowing he was too focused on you to react quickly if he needed to.

You liked to think that you kept it together well, that you didn’t let any of the panic show. The tightening of your stomach as you got off the interstate, the quickening flutter of your heart when the tesla made the turn onto their street. But it was harder to hide your breathing when the gates came into view, the gates that used to make you feel so safe and secure. Grayson stopped at the end of the driveway, pulling his phone out and calling Ethan.

“Yo. We’re here, can you unlock the gates?” A beat of silence. “Yeah, yeah we’re good. See you in a minute.”

It took a moment before the gates swung open, revealing the rest of the driveway and the house. It looked less intimidating in the daylight despite the dark exterior, and you forced a deep breath in and out of your lungs. You’re safe. Grayson’s right here, he’s safe. You’re okay. The little mantra played in your head as you willed yourself to pull it together, to keep your chin high as he put the car in park. Just breathe in, and breathe out. That’s all you had to do.

Everything looked the same - the pull up rings were still hanging from the tree at the side of the yard, the tiny shed still stood beautiful and warm. It was Grayson’s house, your house, and you weren’t going to someone take that from you. It was a bit easier to breathe when Ethan appeared outside the front door, smile wide and welcoming. You realized how much you’d missed him, and you clung to that feeling, focused in on it instead of the daunting task of going back in the house.

Grayson was two steps behind you as you got out of the car, heading up the sidewalk before you could overthink it, eyes on Ethan.

You weren’t sure how his hugs were so different than Grayson’s but they were. A different comfort came over you when he wrapped you up - not better, just different.

“Missed you bub, how’re you feeling?”

You weren’t sure how to answer such a loaded question, so you gave him a simple “I’m okay. I missed you too” and he let it slide instead of prying like he usually would.

You breathed him in and settled yourself before he moved on to Grayson, pulling him into a hug that you knew was probably going to last a moment. You reached for the door, surprised when it held firm in the frame. Ethan had just come outside, it shouldn’t be locked, but you dug around your purse for your key anyways.

“Oh, we changed the locks, here I’ll get it.” Ethan perked up, pulling out his phone. He pressed a few things on his screen and held his finger down before you heard the click that signified the door had unlocked. “I’ll show you all, c’mon.”

Your feet didn’t move until you felt Grayson next to you, tall and strong and stable. He laced his fingers with yours quickly, squeezing three times like he always did - a small reassurance that he was there. You resisted the urge to close your eyes, to turn around and run back to the car. Instead, you looked over at Grayson, anchoring yourself to him as best you could before you finally walked inside.

It didn’t look any different, but it felt different. The vinyls and play button had been placed back on their shelves, the blanket Ethan always used and never folded was piled up on the couch like always instead of folded in the basket. It smelled like the new wakeheart candles, a mixture because they could never decide which one to burn.

“You okay?” Grayson’s voice was in your ear, low and warm as he moved his hand from yours and wrapped it around your waist. Being held up against him soothed you more than you realized and you were grateful to have the pressure to anchor you, especially as you realized where Ethan had settled.

The kitchen.

You’d thought coming back in the day would make it easier, but the light from the windows did no good. As soon as you rounded the corner you could see it perfectly, see where you’d been standing, where he’d been standing, feel his arm holding you captive, the knife on your throat. Your eyes flickered to the counter, relieved to see that someone had thought to put the knife block away for your sake.

Grayson reacted to you as you reacted to the room, immediately moving in front of you, blocking your view of anything but him. You shifted your focus to his face, tracing your gaze over all those familiar features - the spot in his eyes where the green shifted to brown, the scar on his chin, the stubble on his cheeks. Breathe in. Breathe out.

“Hey, you’re okay. We don’t have to do this in here, not today.”

He took your silence as an answer, turning and moving down the hallway to the podcast studio, Ethan getting up to follow. There was something soothing about the stillness of the studio when you all made it in and closed the door - no sound getting in, no extra light. Contained... controllable.

It gave you the stability you needed to find your voice.

“We changed the locks. So that means he got in through the door?” You looked at Ethan, who was sitting on the table facing you and Grayson on the couch, knowing he would have gotten the full story from the detectives. It was in his personality to know every detail when something went wrong.

“Yeah. He paid off one of our construction guys to steal a key and make him a copy, told him he’d give him a cut after he sold everything he was gonna steal. He snuck over the fence in the back, so we added to that, made it taller and put a sensor there. And now the locks are only openable by our phones, and our fingerprints. Here, you can look.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket, unlocking it and pulling up the app. You scrolled through as he kept explaining, noticing all the different options and settings.

“So we can arm any door or window from the app now, and unlock or lock the doors. They’re all electric now, but we can also make it where it requires a key if we want. And you have to put your fingerprint in, so even if someone gets a hold of your phone they can’t access the house. We added more cameras outside too, and theres an option to upgrade and do in house cameras as well, but I wanted to see how you guys felt about that.”

“Thats up to Y/N,” Grayson said, pulling you out of your head a bit as you looked up from the phone.

“Why is it up to me?”

“If it’ll make you feel safer then we’ll do it. I mean, we haven’t done in house cameras before because people can hack that shit, but if it’ll make you feel better we’ll do it.”

You weren’t sure if it was the stress you were under or his casual tone, but his words rubbed you the wrong way for the first time since everything had happened.

“Look, I know that I’m the one with the cut on my throat.” Grayson flinched at your words, hand tightening on your thigh. “But this dude broke into your house.”

“Our house,” Ethan corrected. He never wanted you to feel like it was any less your house than his or Graysons despite the fact that you hadn’t paid for any of it.

“Okay our house. Still, I’m not the only one in this equation. This is a group thing.”

“A family thing,” Grayson mused, any annoyance you had with him fading away at his sweet words.

“A family thing. Which means it needs to be a family decision. And yeah, out of the three of us I’m probably gonna have the hardest time with everything because.... well, because.” You didn’t have to go into detail - just the way that their shoulders tightened told you that they were seeing the same thing in their head. “But I want you guys to feel safe too. Cause it could have been either of you. And the thought of it happening to you guys scares me just as much as the idea of it happening to me again. Hell, it scares me more.” You couldn’t dwell on that, just the brief thought of either of them in danger making your heart skip.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Ethan reached out a hand for yours and you took it, watching as he linked up with Grayson’s left, and when your hand found Grayson’s right you sighed, squeezing both of them as the tears started to prickle.

“We’re gonna take care of each other. Like always. Like family. Whatever we gotta do. Yeah?” Grayson was sniffling too though he tried to hide it with a smile at the end. His lip quivered anyways.

“Yeah. Always. Group hug?” Ethan spoke up.

You nodded, and the twins stood up in sync, you one beat behind before the three of you stepped together and hugged. You were a bit dwarfed by both of them, tall and broad, but the way they held you to them made you feel safer than you had since you entered the house.

“I vote no to the cameras by the way,” Ethan said over your head after a moment. You all leaned back so you could see each other, still holding on.

“I know I’m gonna hit the wrong thing and pick the wrong camera at the wrong time. It’s just my luck bro. Seriously.”

The mental image of you and Grayson in a compromising position on Ethan’s tiny screen was probably the only thing that could have gotten a true laugh out of you, and you were happy that it did. It cut the unintentional tension in a way that only Ethan could. The three of you squeezed together again before you let go, though Grayson’s hand stayed on your back.

“Okay, enough with the heavy. I’m hungry, but the kitchen is obviously a no go for mwah so... Monty’s?”

“Hell yeah, I’m driving, since you all jacked my car for three days.”

“You told us to take it!” Grayson argued.

“Doesn’t mean I didn’t miss her,” he countered, pulling the door of the studio open and leading the way out.

You were able to keep your mind off of everything for the most part once you were back outside and in the tesla. You got Monty’s to go and ate in the parking lot, caught up on everything regarding the candle launch prep and the podcast between bites of fries and sips of milkshakes.

You’d hoped the dread wouldn’t come back when you made it home, but alas, the pit returned to your stomach at the movement of the gates. Breathe in. Breathe out.

The sun was setting over the house. Most days it would be beautiful. You’d probably pull your phone out, run around to the back yard to get a better picture, maybe even have Grayson boost you up onto the roof.

But not that night.

Now, it was just a reminder that darkness was coming, and you were going to have to face the house again. The front door seemed to mock you after it closed behind Ethan as you stood frozen in the driveway. It was staring you down, daring you to try it again, to see if you could keep it together better than you had earlier.

“We can go somewhere else. We don’t have to sleep here tonight.” Grayson’s voice was low enough that Ethan couldn’t hear. “We can go to Ryan’s.”

“Coop is there, you’d die in your sleep,” you countered, accidentally admitting you’d already considered it.

“I have my inhaler, I’d manage. Or we can go to Ster’s.”

“We’re sleeping here. I have to get over it.”

“Woah, hey,” he turned you by your hip, a mixture of disbelief and anger in his eyes. “None of that. Don’t put that pressure on yourself.”

“I just mean that I can’t keep avoiding it. I gotta at least try to do it. I love this place, I don’t wanna be scared of it.”

He searched your face, looked for anything he could read. You weren’t sure what he was looking for, but you just focused in on his features again. Breathe in. Breathe out.

“Okay. But you have to promise me that you’ll tell me if it’s too much. Even if it’s just a little bit too much. Okay? You promise?”

“Yeah. I promise.”

“Okay. Then we’ll try.” It caught you a bit by surprise when he leaned down to kiss you, hand coming up to your jaw. You knew his fingers grazed over your cut, knew he felt it, pretended like he didn’t. You pretended too. “I’m proud of you. My strong girl.”

You wanted to deflect it, make a joke about how he was definitely stronger even though you knew that wasn’t what he meant. Anything to keep your heart from swelling up, overwhelmed as it usually was by the fact that he loved you as much as he did, somehow. Instead you just wrapped your arms around his waist and let him guide you back into the house.

“Let me set up your alls phones before we go to bed, so you can do shit in the morning if you want,” Ethan said from the kitchen when you appeared. You handed your phone over, let him do what he wanted as you tried to process everything in the kitchen.

The spot two steps to the left of the sink was where he’d trapped you. But it was also where you had tried Grayson’s french toast for the first time, watched his face light up when you told him it was perfect. The spot on the counter where the knife block was supposed to sit used to be where the speaker sat, the source of so many late night ice cream dance party nights, the background noise to the tiger cub wrestling matches the boys sometimes had. You focused on those memories, hoping they’d override the most recent, the persistent one that kept nagging at the edge of your mind as you fought against it.

Ethan passed your phone back after a minute, moving on to Grayson’s. You fiddled with the settings, glad to see that you could check any of the outside cameras that you wanted to. You could arm and unarm the door, see the last time it had been opened and by who. It was a complex system, and you didn’t even want to think about how much it cost - you knew Grayson would say it didn’t matter anyways.

Once Grayson’s phone was done you gave Ethan a final goodnight hug before the two of you headed towards your room. You held your breath a bit when you went around the corner - an unconscious habit that would unfortunately stick around for almost a year. You kept your hands at your sides as you walked, not wanting to touch the wall like you had that night, not knowing if it would cause a reaction in you or not.

Getting to the bedroom made you breathe a bit easier. The bed was made, but definitely by Ethan considering the pillows were on the wrong side. You still smiled at the gesture, knowing he’d come in and made it welcoming for you to come back to. But seeing the window above the bed, the closet doors, the general lack of light - so many places for someone to hide, to sneak up on you, to wait for when you aren’t looking. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out.

“Do you wanna shower? I know you said that shampoo at Nick’s was weird, it might feel good to use your own stuff,” Gray offered, obviously seeing that you weren’t sure what to do.

“Yeah. Yeah that’s probably a good idea.”

You moved to the drawers, grabbing a pair of underwear and one of Grayson’s shirts before you headed towards the bathroom.

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“No, no it’s okay. I got it,” you answered on instinct. Surely, surely you could handle showering by yourself.

“Oh. Okay.” The worry in his voice rang like a bell, and you frowned.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I just... can you leave the door open? Don’t like you being where I can’t see you right now.” It was his turn to be a bit shy. Grayson never liked acting like he needed help, never liked admitting that he had a weakness. You were alike in that way. The fact that he even said anything made you want to melt into a puddle.

“Of course I can baby. I’ll be quick.”

“I’m gonna get some work done, just yell if you need me. I love you.”

“I love you too.” You leaned over on the bed, giving him a quick kiss before you went into the bathroom, having to stop yourself from closing the door. Grayson’s new bathroom was very aesthetically pleasing, with the dark green tiles and the marble fixtures. It was cozy enough, and you’d been in it enough times that you felt comfortable there as you brushed your hair.

Grayson’s eyes flickered away from his laptop when you stripped down, watching until you got under the stream of water in the shower. He cursed himself for getting the tempered glass that you couldn’t see more than an outline through.

You’d been in that shower so many times, but something about this time just felt... off. You couldn’t place it - maybe you felt exposed because you were naked, or claustrophobic because of being closed in. You tried to swallow it down, ignore it, distract yourself by starting your usual routine, lathering up your hair with shampoo. Still, your heartbeat sped up, thundering in your chest, so loud it was in your ears.

You’re safe. Grayson’s right here, he’s safe. You’re okay.

But Grayson wasn’t right there, he was too far away, out of your sight. He could be in trouble, he could be in danger, you’d had no idea that there had been a man in the house before, who was to say there wasn’t another one now?

You couldn’t catch your breath, couldn’t focus, couldn’t move as everything started to close in around you.

“Gra- Grayson!” You yelled it, probably louder than you needed to.

The only time Grayson had ever heard you sound like that was a few nights ago, and his blood ran cold.

“Y/N? Baby?!” He was on his feet, laptop thrown to the side without a care as he ran into the bathroom, throwing the shower door open.

The panic in your eyes was blatant, naked chest heaving as you tried to breathe. And then he as in the water with you, holding onto you.

“Shh, shh shh shh I’m here, I’m here, you’re okay.” He reached past you, turned the water off to quiet everything down as he pulled you to his chest. You clung to his now soaked t-shirt, unable to form any words.

“You’re safe, nobody is gonna hurt us, I’ve got you. Just breathe with me angel, just breathe.” You heard his words through one ear, but the vibration of his chest in the other was more soothing than anything he could say. Just knowing he was there and safe helped you to fill your lungs again little by little, each breath getting deeper, slower as he held you, rested his cheek on your shampoo covered head, let you get yourself calmed down.

It wasn’t the first time he’d seen you panic, so he knew that letting go of you wasn’t going to help anything. So when he shifted and you clung to him on instinct he immediately moved to reassurances.

“Hey, I’m not going anywhere, I’m right here. Let’s get your hair washed out and get you dried off, you’re shivering. I’m staying, I’m not going anywhere.”

You nodded against him, let him reach around you and turn the water back on. It was cold at first, making you jump until the hot water caught up and rained down over you again.

“You’re gonna get all wet,” you mumbled, looking down at his soaked sweatpants.

“That’s why we have a dryer. Lean your head back, I gotcha.”

You did as he asked, focusing in on the feeling of his hands on your scalp to avoid the uncomfort of having to close your eyes. He did it as quickly as he could, running his hands through the way he’d seen his mom do so many times, making sure he got all the suds out before he was reaching for the handle again and turning it off.

“Hang on just a sec.” He moved quickly to shed off all his wet clothes, leaving them in a pile in the corner of the shower to be taken care of later - his only concern was you. You let him lead you through the motions, from stepping out of the shower to drying off, stepping into your undies and pulling his shirt over your head. For once, it didn’t effect you that he was fully naked in front of you - you were too distracted, too overwhelmed by everything he was doing for you, the way he took care of you like it was his favorite thing to do. If you asked him, he would say that it was.

Eventually he moved the two of you into the bedroom, grabbing a towel on the way out so he could dry himself the rest of the way off and pull on a pair of clean boxers. He looked at you for a moment, and then he shook his head.

“We’re not sleeping in here tonight.”

“Grayson-”

“We can stay in the house, but we can’t sleep in here yet. I can’t sleep in here yet, so I know you aren’t going to sleep either. But I have an idea. Do you trust me?”

You nodded, secretly relieved at the thought of not having to sleep in the bed.

“Okay, grab the pillows, and I’ll get the comforter,” he instructed. You did as he asked, waiting for him to get situated and take your hand before he led you out of the room. You still held your breath when you went around the corner, letting it out when you saw that no one was there.

He turned into the pod studio, letting you in first before he closed the door behind him. It was silent, but in a comforting way, everything but Grayson muffled.

“I don’t know if this is gonna work, but I felt good in here earlier. Safe. So I think we should give it a shot in here tonight. Whadda you think?”

“I feel safe in here too,” you murmured as an acceptance, and at your word he got to work. You expected him to move over to the couch but instead he put the comforter down on the rug on the floor. You followed his lead and moved the pillows to the top of it, waiting.

Finally, he laid down at around the midway mark of the width and reached up for you to join him. Putting your confusion aside you crawled down to him and curled up against his chest, unwilling to put even an inch between you if you didn’t have to. His plan came together when he threw the extra half of the comforter over the top of you both, creating a bit of a cocoon. Any other night, you would have been worried about sleeping on the hard floor, or getting too hot. But not that night. That night it was exactly what you needed. Just you and him, safe and warm and together.

“I’m sorry about earlier, I don’t know what caused that,” you mumbled, tracing patterns over his heart, a few 47s, a few shapes.

“You know you don’t have to apologize to me. For anything.”

“You don’t like to see me upset,” you countered.

“Of course I don’t. Would be kinda fucked up if I did. But if you need me, I’m gonna be there. Even if it’s just to help you wash out your hair,” he teased, resting his cheek on your forehead.

“Your ‘strong girl’ who can’t even get through a solo shower,” you scoffed, poking fun at yourself.

“Always my strong girl, no matter what. But strongest when she admits she needs help.”

You couldn’t find the words to answer, and he didn’t ask for them. Instead, he just kissed your forehead, a silent promise to keep you safe through the night, and every night after that.

#I wrote 98% of this today WHAT #but here she is :')#i hope you like!!#lynds writes #grayson dolan fic #grayson dolan #grayson dolan fanfiction #grayson dolan imagine #dolan twins fanfiction #dolan twins #dolan twins imagine

313 notes · View notes

naussensei · 3 years

Text

What happens when you leave Levi unsupervised in Erwin’s office?

Chapter 9 (Excerpt)

After he completed the rest of the tasks list, Levi headed over to Erwin’s office, bringing with him a pile of folders. He knocked on the door - only out of courtesy - and opened it without waiting for a response. He had run out of patience for that long ago, always finding Erwin napping on the desk while he waited outside like an idiot.

“Oi, stop slacking...” he said as he entered the room.

To his surprise, Erwin was not there yet.

The meeting must have been extended, Levi assumed , lingering around the door for another moment, hesitant to go inside.

He had been in Erwin’s office many times before, but for some reason, without him in there, it felt a little odd. As if he were trespassing his privacy. But if he left the door unlocked, it was probably because he expected Levi to continue his work even without him there.

Levi decided to at least take the pile of folders to place them on Erwin’s desk. He closed the door behind him, in case someone would see him there and ask unwanted questions.

When he dropped the heavy tower of folders on the desk, a screen of dust flew up into the air.

“Fucking hell, Erwin,” he grunted, annoyed, fanning the dust away from his face with disgust. His eyes went to the layer of dust over the desk, then scanned all around the room, wondering when was the last time Erwin had cleaned his office.

Levi had never really stopped to pay attention to the place. It was a fairly large room, with flowered pattern panels on the walls. One of the walls was covered by a small built-in library that went from the floor to the ceiling, the shelves topped with thick books. Levi wondered why Erwin would want them there if he barely had time to read.

He walked to stand by the library and slid a finger over the old wooden shelves, all covered in dust.

A picture caught his attention in the middle of the shelf. It was a portrait of a man. Blond and tall; thick eyebrows over gentle eyes. He would have thought it was Erwin’s picture if it weren’t for the glasses and the beard he wore. Levi assumed it was Erwin’s father, curious as to why he wouldn’t keep any other pictures there.

He browsed around, skimming through the titles of the leatherback tomes, most of them history books, he guessed by the titles. He picked a lone book idling in a corner and read the title out loud.

“Alexander the Great,” he muttered, opening the book on the page that was marked with a piece of paper. All he could see was maps and war strategy graphs detailed in the pages. He immediately recognized Erwin’s neat handwriting in the annotations, and couldn’t help but chuckle at his keenness on the subject. He took the book with him as he moved towards the desk again, flipping through the pages with curiosity. It was an easier read than he had imagined; all terms associated with war and military concepts he was now able to follow. He lost his train of thought at one moment when he had to put the book away to sneeze, suddenly aware of the dust in the air again. He lay the book on the table, and headed outside to bring a bucket of water and a cloth.

Once back in the office, Levi removed all the items from the desk to remove the dust. After he finished, he placed the items back neatly, arranging them in a much more harmonic way. He wiped down the small globe Erwin kept on top of the drawers, and placed it next to the brass lamp he had just polished, fixing the quills and stamps in an appealing way. He finally relaxed on Erwin’s chair to admire his work, smiling with satisfaction. Hiis feet slightly dangling on the oversized chair, fingers drumming on the table as he looked around, picturing what Erwin would see from that spot every time someone went into his office.

His eyes stopped at the bucket of water lying on the floor next to him. Unable to resist the urge, Levi continued to wipe down the rest of the surfaces, opening the window to ventilate and feel the warm breeze cleansing the air of the room.

He had just started wiping the windows when he heard Erwin coming in.

Erwin froze at the door when he saw him.

“Levi?” He said, “What are you doing?”

Levi instantly hid the cloth behind his back, like a child hiding his shame. “Nothing.”

“Are you cleaning again?”

“No...”

Erwin raised his eyebrows, waiting for a confession.

“Maybe…” Levi said.

Erwin sighed. “I’ve told you, you don’t have to do that…”

“Fine, yes, I was cleaning. The place is a fucking mess, I can’t work like this.” He complained. “When was the last time you cleaned your office?”

“I… don’t remember,” he admitted.

“Don’t you have someone to come and clean for you?” Levi recalled seeing the maids cleaning the common areas at least once a week.

“Yes…” Erwin said, closing the door behind him, “but, I’m always busy in here when they come, so I send them away.”

Levi clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes, then continued to clean.

Erwin now moved to stand by his side, rolling his sleeves up, watching Levi with guilt as he wiped the windows so thoroughly “Let me, I’ll do it.” He said, grabbing the cloth from his hand.

Levi’s grip tightened around the cloth, pulling his hand away. “I’m almost done.”

Erwin pulled again aggressively, causing Levi to clash against him. But Levi’s hand remained stubbornly attached to the cloth.

“Levi...” Erwin threatened him.

“Erwin...” he echoed, imitating his voice with a challenging glare.

Levi was pushed with his back against the wall, his arm twisted over his head, leaving him out of breath.

“Let go.” Erwin said, his voice imperative and harsh.“That’s an order.”

Levi held his gaze another moment, then finally his grip loosened. Yet instead of letting Erwin grab it, he let the cloth fall onto the floor out of spite. Erwin smirked when he did.

“You’ve learned to listen after all.” he hummed, without moving just yet. “Good boy.”

Erwin now bent down to grab the cloth, and Levi’s chest fluttered, his gaze going to the bookshelf again to avoid looking at him. He stared at the photograph again to keep his eyes busy, waiting until he could hear the squeaking of the cloth against the glass to move.

“Is that your father?” He asked, eyes still on the picture.

Erwin turned to look as he continued to clean. “Yes. That’s him. You can tell by the eyebrows.”

“You look like him.” He observed. “And your mother?”

He watched Erwin smile briefly before he put the cloth away.

“My father threw away most of her pictures. He said it was too painful to look at them.” He now walked to sit at his desk and begin his reports, and Levi pulled another chair to sit in front of him to continue his work as well.

Only then Erwin noticed something was out of place in his desk, his eyes now going to the book he usually kept on the shelf.

“Did you have fun in my office today, Levi?” he asked with a smile.

“Yes, lots of fun cleaning your filth,” Levi said ironically, “I don’t even want to imagine what your room is like.”

Erwin chuckled quietly before he opened the first folder of the endless pile on his desk.

From: The Slum Rat and the Wings of Freedom (Historical AU)

#Eruri #Eruri fic #erwin Levi #Levi x Erwin #rivaille x erwin #AoT #SNK #Acwnr #dark academia

25 notes · View notes

radioactivepeasant · 4 years

Text

Fic Prompts: Star Wars Wednesday

Because Disney can pry the Finn Skywalker headcanon from my cold, dead, fingers. And because Disney can’t stop me from reworking their movies if I darn well please.

Most of the fortress had been picked over by scavengers years ago. Any Imperial memorabilia had long since been looted and either auctioned off or confiscated by the First Order. Really, that was the only reason the scout team had considered it as a potential base at all. It had already been gutted, and was pretty well beneath the notice of Kylo Ren unless he was up for sentimental tours.

The general didn’t find that very likely.

Mustafar was far from a hospitable world for most species, but the heat shielding of the fortress was still highly efficient. The scouts had set up a base camp in what looked like it had once been some kind of audience chamber. Nobody had felt like exploring alone. The whole castle just felt...off.

The young leader of the scouts sat on a pile of rubble, head tilted like he was listening for something. He frowned and glanced down at his team.

“What, Trache?” he asked.

The Twi’lek raised his brows at Finn. “I didn’t say anything.”

Finn seemed confused. “You sure? I could’ve sworn-”

Finn?

Finn looked up again. "Rose, you heard Trache call me just now, right?"

Rose Tico set down a power lamp and plugged it into their Artoo unit, then shook her head. “Sorry Finn,” she said, “All I heard was Artoo.”

Finn.

He whirled, squinting into the darkness of the derelict fortress. “There! You guys heard it that time, right?”

Rose fidgeted awkwardly. "Finn...I didn't hear anything."

Finn.

Finn turned again. He felt as though someone had tied a string around his soul and was pulling. As if under some other power than his own, the boy began to stumble into the shadows.

"W- what are you doing?" Trache hissed.

"Gotta check something out," Finn mumbled. He could just make out what looked like a figure, standing at the end of the corridor. "It's...it's okay. I think it's the Force."

His scout team's protests faded into static behind him. There was nothing but the voice.

Finn. Come to me.

Finn slowly reached down and loosened his blaster in its holster. There was a possibility that he was hearing this voice in his mind. And that had to mean enemies.

"Where are you?" he asked, tensed and ready to fight.

The shadowy figure he had glimpsed before reappeared, further away. It stood, as if waiting. Then it raised one arm, beckoning.

Finn didn't sense anything particularly hostile about the stranger, but he was wary nonetheless. He eased forward, following the dark shape into another chamber. The closer he got, the more he realized that it wasn't made of pure shadow after all. A faint flicker of blue light outlined the person, if a person it was, slowly illuminating more details. A black tabard. A heavy gauntlet. A cape that fell to the floor and seemed to swallow all light that touched it.

The rhythmic hiss that Finn had taken for some kind of machinery in the fortress took on a new volume.

It sounded like breathing.

Finn stopped dead in his tracks. He had seen that shape before. In the First Order barracks, as a little boy, he had seen that shape in the propaganda forced down the children's throats.

"Aren't you dead?" he blurted out before he could stop himself.

The giant inclined his head -- or, well, his helmet -- regally and turned. He gestured to one side.

"Walk with me."

The authoritative voice brooked no argument.

Finn knew he should have been running. That was Darth Kriffing Vader, or his ghost, or a clone, or something. But...he didn't sense the kind of painful storm he'd always experienced around Kylo Ren. There was no hatred, filling the air with danger. Just a strange echo of regret.

With one hand firmly on the butt of his blaster, he gritted his teeth and stepped closer.

"The Force is with you, young one," the late Sith Lord remarked, "but you are not a Jedi yet."

That rankled a little bit. Finn knew he couldn't do all the things Rey could yet. The General had told him that his connection to the Force was more like hers than Rey's, but he still didn't know what that meant. That didn't mean he wasn't learning. He was just going at his own pace.

"Maybe I'm not," he said, "But I will be."

Will I be?

Darth Vader began to walk. Hands clasped thoughtfully behind his back, steps slow and measured. Relentless. What did he want? And why was he even here?

Reluctantly, Finn followed a half step behind.

"I'm not hallucinating this, right? Because my team can't see you." Getting lured into the depths of the castle by the ghost of a Sith probably wasn't a good thing. "Why'd you call me?"

"I have been expecting you for some time," Vader said, tipping his helmet down as if observing Finn. "It was inevitable that you would find me here."

His footsteps echoed on the stone, but did not disturb so much as a single mote of dust. The hair on the back of Finn's neck rose when he looked down and saw only one set of footprints behind them.

"You know who I am." It was not a question.

Swallowing hard, Finn nodded. His mouth was dry, and despite himself, his fingers trembled. Like a death sentence the name fell from his lips.

"Darth Vader."

Abruptly, the man turned on his heel. His cape flared out around him as he raised a finger almost in warning.

"That name no longer has any meaning for me," he said sternly.

"Then..." Finn wrinkled his brow and tried to remember the legend. "You're um, you're a Skywalker-?"

His companion nodded. "I suspected that if I had chosen my true form, you would not have known me."

He raised his helmet as the chamber emptied out into another set of corridors. "Come. There is something I must show you."

Well. This was going to make an interesting story to tell the General later. Finn pulled the collar of his jacket up and shivered.

"Dar- I mean, uh...Master Skywalker? You didn't answer my question before. Aren't you dead?"

Anakin did not slow his steps. "The Force, young one, is a pathway to many abilities that some may consider to be...unnatural."

A wry chuckle wrenched itself from Finn's lips. He shook his head and took a jogging half step to keep up with the ghostly warrior. "You're telling me."

Anakin glanced down at him again. Finn wasn't sure how he knew the ghost's eyes were on him, but somehow he could guess where to look.

"You show remarkably little trepidation in the face of the impossible," he commented.

It was strange, but Finn was almost beginning to feel comfortable with the conversation. He shrugged. "Nobody ever told me how the Force was supposed to work. How am I supposed to know what's possible and what's not?"

He jumped when Anakin tipped back his helmet and laughed. It was a deep, rolling sound, utterly at odds with the mechanical whoosh of his respirator.

"Indeed! Do not lose your open mind, Finn. It will serve you well."

"Did anybody ever tell you," Finn huffed, "That you make even compliments sound ominous?"

Another low chuckle. "Yes. Your father did."

His father?!

What was the ghost talking about?

Finn scowled at him. "Whoa, hold on. How do you know my father? I don't even know my father!"

Under his breath he added, "I don't even know what I'm doing here."

Abruptly, he began to sense a complicated tangle of emotions from the ghost of Anakin Skywalker. Regret, anger, concern.

"You remember nothing, child?"

Sometimes Finn thought he did remember. But they were just images. Feelings. A woman's voice and strong arms. A man's smile. Sometimes he heard snatches of a song in his dreams, always just out of reach by the time he opened his eyes.

Other times, the dreams were not so kind. Flashes of an old man, reaching for him even as he was shot in the back. His own tiny hands reaching desperately for an old woman screaming a name he couldn't hear. He wondered sometimes if they had been his grandparents.

The Resistance was his family now. Rey and Chewie were his family. Poe and BB-8 were his family. The General was his family. But in his heart, Finn still wanted closure. To at least know where he had come from.��

"I...remember my grandfather dying." Finn said haltingly.

"Not your grandfather," Anakin corrected him. "Your mother's cousin. Your grandfather died long before your birth."

He quickened his pace before Finn could insist on an answer. Through stone galleries and ominous archways he continued with a single-minded determination. He did not stop until he had reached what had once been an impressively secure door, long since reduced to ruin by looters. Inside sat a strange dome-like structure that reminded Finn of an egg.

"Did you see that in my head? Is that like a thing you can do?" Finn demanded. He was determined to get the truth. Maybe he could "sense" it somehow. "How did you see it if I can't?"

Anakin did not immediately answer. He waved his hand over the dome, and with a rumbling groan it separated neatly into two halves. It was an old-fashioned hyperbaric chamber. A few lights still flickered dimly inside. Anakin reached down to touch one small screen, and a hologram sprang up. A young man in Rebellion era fatigues smiled up at them from the hologram. Old though it was, the holo was still recognizable.

"What the- That's Luke Skywalker!" Finn realized.

Anakin nodded. "He was no older than you are now when my spies brought me this image." He seemed almost lost in nostalgia for a moment. "Truly, I would have torn the very fabric of the universe apart to find him."

Finn watched the ghost, noting that he cupped the hologram in his hands as though he held something infinitely precious.

"You...kept a holo of him in your chamber?" Seemed a little odd for a Sith.

He was pretty sure Ren didn't keep holos of his parents.

"Of course." Anakin did not look away from the tiny, grinning face of Luke. "He is my son."

Finn sat down carefully on the seat within the chamber. His feet didn't even touch the floor. "Hey...Master Skywalker?" he asked, "How did you know my grandfather died before I was born? If it was before I was born, I wouldn't have had any memory of that. Buried or no. Did you...meet him in the afterlife or something? Do all ghosts know each other?"

He sensed hesitation as Anakin answered, "No, I...I was...there."

That could mean a lot of things. "Did you kill him?" Finn guessed, "Like, was he a Rebel? Or a Jedi?"

He heard the creaking of leather as Anakin's hands tightened into fists.

"He was a rogue and peasant Sith. A knave who chased after power at the cost of his kin," Anakin snarled.

Finn jolted back. A Sith?

A horrible thought slid into the back of his mind. What if his family had given him willingly to the First Order? What if they expected him to follow in his grandfather's footsteps?

"So...what does that make me?" he rasped.

The tension drained quickly from Anakin's shoulders. He turned away from the hologram of his son and raised a spectral hand to rest against Finn's cheek. It did not pass through him, as he had expected it to. Instead, it lingered, like the brush of a curtain.

"You are," Anakin said, almost reverently, "A valiant son of a worthy father. And the beloved grandchild of a grandmother who deserved a better life than she was given."

The Force was almost screaming at him that the answers to his questions were at last before him, but Finn was afraid to believe it. Afraid to get his hopes up and be wrong. If, after all this, his growing suspicion was wrong, he wasn't sure he could bear it.

"Master Skywalker, please," he begged, "I don't know why I'm here, I don't know what you want from me. Just tell me the truth? Did you know my grandfather?"

The other glove rose, and Finn found his face being gently cradled by an ex-Sith Lord.

“No,” Anakin answered, quiet and inevitable. “I am your grandfather.”

#star wars wednesday #star wars au #fix-it au #sequel trilogy #sequel trilogy fix-it #finn skywalker #star wars finn #darth vader #anakin skywalker #and his mom is Nakari Kelen who is NOT DEAD because we do NOT fridge ladies in this house!#if The Mouse doesn't want me unfridging her that's his problem #and yes. Anakin is STILL the biggest drama llama in space #sneaky shakespeare reference #fic prompts #writing prompts

229 notes · View notes

starlost-andfound · 3 years

Text

slow dancing in the dark (amoureux au) / d.j.s

Following Chapter 17 of Amoureux...

Summary: in which daniel’s heart belongs to louisa forever, but her heart has fallen into the arms of another

a/n: this was so similar to chapter 18 and 19 of Amoureux i almost didn’t write it rip

Warnings: Angst, absolute lack of knowledge on how galas & weddings worked in the 1820s (bear with me)

Word Count : Approximately 3.46K (oops...)

Extra: Surprise @chilling-seavey! + Thank you to @stuffofseaveyy for hyping me up this morning and @jonahlovescoffee for the help on the dialogue, I love you!

“I am marrying your brother in a week. We need to stop this now, okay?”

“No. No, you don’t mean that.” Daniel chuckled in disbelief. Louisa’s firm response before walking away hit Daniel hard. She couldn’t really mean that? Could she? He stayed away from the wedding preparations in the main hall of the church, and lingered in the background, deep in his thoughts.

That night when they returned, he waited until Christian retreated to his room before peeking his head out of his room. Once he saw the hallway was clear, he hurried over to Louisa’s room, quietly knocking on her door.

Daniel listened quietly as he heard a shuffle on the other side before the door opened by a crack. Louise looked out, her curious expression instantly turning to a frown.

“What are you doing, Daniel?”

“I came here to talk to you.”

“You shouldn’t be here,” Louisa pushed the door but Daniel held back, holding his hand against it.

“Please, Louisa,” he looked into her eyes, a desperation in his words.

Louisa stepped back, silently, holding the door open for him. She checked the hallways before shutting the door and turning to Daniel with a sharp look on her face, “Well, go on.”

Daniel felt taken back at her sudden brash tone. He gulped, before straightening his shoulders, “You can’t be serious about marrying Christian, Louisa.”

“What do you mean?”, she whispered harshly, “I have to do what’s right for the country and the integrity of our families, Daniel.”

Daniel huffed, “What about for you? Is this right for you? Do you even love him, Lou?”

Louisa crossed her arms over her chest, “It’s Louisa and yes, I do.”

Daniel’s heart dropped, “You do?”

He stepped closer to her, “What about us? What about me? Do you not love me?”

“Merde. Daniel, don’t do this right now.”

“The kisses in the stairwell, the late nights we spent loving each other, everything. What was that for?”

Louisa sighed, looking out at the balcony in her room where the moonlight slipped through the open doors. She turned to Daniel, “We were being young, and naive, and reckless. I’m going to get married, it had to end.”

“Yes, we were young and we were naive and it was reckless but, tell me I’m wrong- we were in love, Lou.”

Louisa looked at Daniel in his eyes and with a strong tone she whispered, “You are right. We were in love. Were. And for the last time, it’s Louisa.”

Daniel shuddered, stepping back.

“You need to leave,” she gestured towards the door.

“You’re lying.”

“I am not.”

“Yes, you are,” Daniel glared. “You are so utterly blinded by my brother’s love. Does he show you love like I do?”

“Daniel, stop it, right now.”

Daniel stepped closer to her, ignoring her words as he continued, “Does he make you smile like I do? Does he hold you like I -”

“La ferme!”, Louisa’s loud response stunned Daniel to silence. She never raised her voice at him.

Louisa jabbed her finger into Daniel’s chest, her lips trembling in anger as she spoke, “You have no right to walk in here and tell me who I am to love. What we had is long gone and over. I love Christian and I will marry him. Now, leave.”

Daniel gulped reaching for her, “Lou-”

“Leave.”

_ _ _

Daniel felt sick to his core as he watched Louisa walk down the aisle to Christian. Everyone settled down as the ceremony started, sharing smiles across the hall. Daniel sat silently, clenching his fists until his knuckles turned white.

“Christian John, wilt thou have this woman to be thy wedded wife, to live together according to God’s law in the holiest state of matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, protect her, and keep her in sickness and in health and keep only unto her so long as ye both shall live?”

Daniel could feel the burn in his chest as he watched his brother smile at her and reply without any hesitation, “I will.”

The bishop turned to Louisa and Daniel couldn’t take it anymore. He got up from his seat and walked past to the gate. A firm hand held him back and he turned to meet his mother, “Where do you think you are going, Daniel?”

Daniel stifled a cry, “I am not feeling well, mother. I think I may be down with a cold.”

He was thankful for the heart broken tears in his eyes which looked to his mother, to be a sign of illness. His mother dismissed him, asking a guard to escort him back to the castle before turning back to the ceremony just as the bishop asked Louisa the marriage sealing question.

Daniel walked out of the church, clenching his fists as Louisa’s words echoed through the hall before the door shut behind him.

“I will.”

_ _ _

If the wedding wasn’t too much to bear, the extravagant gala celebrating the newly wed royals, left Daniel devastated. It had been a week since the wedding and his acting skills weren’t enough to maintain the role of a sick prince. He laid in bed as the doctor did a check up, dreading the day ahead as the royal servants prepared the grand hall for that night.

“Is it absolutely necessary for me to attend? I still feel a little under the weather,” he muttered, watching as the doctor packed his tools in his briefcase.

“Your temperature is perfectly healthy and you show no symptoms of any illness. I am afraid you need to attend,” the doctor picked up his case and bowed down, “Your royal highness.”

Daniel dismissed the doctor and watched with sorrowful eyes as he left the room. There was no way out of this. He was somewhat thankful because of the wedding and preparations for the gala, all his classes were cancelled until further notice. The young prince stayed in his room, refusing to do anything else. His act of catching a cold allowed him to have his meals in his room for the past week but with the gala approaching and no reason not to attend, he couldn’t avoid it.

It seemed like time passed all too quickly and soon the clock above his chest of drawers struck 6. As the hour hand touched the tips of the number twelve, Daniel’s personal royal servants stepped into the room with his suit in their hands. They urged him to get dressed, fixing his hair and polishing his shoes as he stared blankly ahead.

“Your royal highness,” the servants bowed and exited the room once Daniel dismissed them and he was left alone again. His sighed as his eyes drifted around the room, trying to find anything that could peak his interest and distract him. He found himself staring at this bedside table’s drawer which held in secret, the letters and whispers of his old lover.

Though his mind resisted, his heart was pulled towards it. His feet carried him across the room and to the table where he picked up the first of many envelopes in the pile.

À mon amoureux secret

Daniel traced her handwriting on the envelope, his hands trembling as he opened the folded paper. He read the letter over and over again, his eyes memorising every detail in every curve of the pen which spelled the words which once held so much love and passion. With every line he read, Daniel’s vision blurred, pulling and distorting the words. He wiped his eyes, and shoved the letter back into the drawer, slamming it shut.

A knock on the door pulled him to compose himself as he steadied his breathing, furiously blinking away the tears.

“Yes, you may come in,” he called out.

A recognizable face of one of the royal guards, Daniel knew as Jack, opened the door and stepped into the room.

“Sir, it is time,” he straightened his posture, “We must escort you to the grand hall.”

Daniel nodded, following Jack out.

“Have all the guests arrived?”, Daniel inquired as they approached the doors, the sound of chatter and classical music growing louder.

Jack nodded briefly, “Most of the guests have, Sir.”

Daniel gulped, “Is Louisa here yet?”

Jack shook his head, “The prince and princess will arrive in half an hour.”

The guards at the door bowed their heads before opening the two large wooden doors, allowing Daniel to enter. He kept a low profile, not that it required much work. Everyone was far too excited to meet the newly wed royal couple. To the pleased eyes of his mother, Daniel maintained a polite character, greeting the guests.

A tap on his shoulder, pulled Daniel away from his seat as he turned to his mother.

“Daniel, I would like you to meet someone.”

Daniel followed his mother to a group of three people. Daniel scanned the three, noting their resemblance, their clothing and their features. They looked to be from another royal family, a king, a queen and another princess. Daniel’s mother introduced him to the family, placing extra emphasis on the princess.

“Princess Cecile of Denmark,” the mother introduced the young princess who looked to be the same age as Daniel.

The princess curtsied, a soft smile on her face, “Your royal highness.”

Daniel bowed down, greeting her, with a subtle glare hidden in his almost neutral expression as he observed her. She was beautiful, he wouldn’t deny that, but she wasn’t her. Her hair was a darker brown and her eyes, although they were the same colour, didn’t glow the same.

To his dismay, his mother left him to interact and talk to the princess. Daniel smiled politely as they conversed. Her shy smiles and the slight blush on her cheeks every time he spoke, did not go unnoticed by Daniel. He inhaled deeply, his breath shaking in all his frustration.

“What do you enjoy doing in your free time?”, Cecile asked.

Daniel’s lips tugged up in a close lipped smile, “I like composing music.”

Cecile looked down at the curt response, “That sounds lovely,” she grinned.

An awkward silence fell over the two. Daniel turned his head, his eyes checking the time on the clock.

5 minutes until she arrived.

“Excuse me,” Daniel abruptly excused himself, barely waiting for the princess’ response before he pushed through the crowd. He had no sense of direction, he just wanted an escape from it all. He spotted the table of food that laid ahead, and changed his direction towards it. On the way, Daniel bumped into one of the countless servants he didn’t recognize. The servant carried a tray, holding an arrangement of glasses filled with champagne.

“Champagne, sir?”

Daniel hesitated a moment, the ache in his chest clouding his thoughts as he reached for a glass. He held the glass delicately in his hands, carrying it to a corner in the hall near the table, free of large crowds. He looked across the hall, everyone seemingly occupied in a conversation. His gaze dropped to the glass of champagne and he lifted it to his nose, taking a sniff.

Daniel pulled back from the glass slightly, his face breaking into a grimace before he took a sip, testing the taste on his tongue. The unfamiliar liquid frizzled and invaded his mouth with a bitter taste. He took a larger gulp of the drink, feeling the warmth which burnt his throat and the slight wave that washed over him.

With a sudden tilt of the glass, he downed the glass, wincing at the taste. Daniel looked around the room, placing the glass on the table of food. His eyes drifted to another servant carrying glasses of champagne and he approached them, grabbing another. He lifted it up to his lips, taking a large sip.

The sudden sound of the trumpets in the hall and the silence that fell across the crowd pulled Daniel away from his drink as he looked up at the entrance of the room. He watched with a look of distaste on his face as an announcement was made and his brother walked into the hall with Louisa, their arms linked. The members of the crowd, bowed and curtsied respectfully. With the largely crowded room, no one noticed how Daniel remained standing, his eyes set on the royal couple.

As the couple descended the stairs and greeted the guests, Daniel chugged down his drink, the harsh liquid staining his mouth with the lingering smell of the alcohol. Daniel remained in his corner of the hall by the table, observing the movements of the crowd, yet his eyes always seemed to betray him, falling onto her. His head fell back and he rested it against the wall as he admired her from afar.

Daniel thought she was the most beautiful in the room, more beautiful than the moon, even. Her gown complimented her perfectly. He noticed the extra curl in her strawberry blonde hair and the rouge on her lips. He sighed shakily as his eyes traced her figure, falling to the ring on her finger.

He was suddenly pulled out of his haze when the crowd seemed to part, leaving a circle around the dance floor. Daniel frowned, rubbing his eyes as a soft classical tune played on the speakers. He pushed through the circle of people, standing at the front just as Louisa and Christian stepped to the middle of the dance floor, hand in hand. The first dance.

The instrumental music escalated as they danced in each other’s arms. Daniel clenched his jaw, watching as Christian held Louisa and they waltzed. At one moment, Christian spun her around in a circle. Louisa’s eyes connected with Daniel’s before she quickly looked away, turning to Christian with a smile.

The dance finally drew to a close as pairs in the crowd joined the royal couple, waltzing together. A firm hand fell onto Daniel’s shoulder as he heard the familiar voice of his mother, “Why don’t you go dance with Cecile?”. Knowing well enough not to go against the words of his mother, Daniel trudged over to the princess who blushed at his offer.

The two young acquaintances joined the dance at the centre of the hall. Daniel sent a polite smile to Cecile as they danced, spinning around the room. However, his eyes would only, always drift to the one person who danced just a few feet away, yet remained tied closely to his heart.

Soon, in a synchronized motion, partners were swapped and Daniel found himself dancing with another woman. His new partner, a duchess, as Daniel discovered was slightly older than him. She mentioned just how adorable he was and blabbered about the grandeur of her castle, droning endlessly. Daniel released a sigh of relief as the partners swapped again but his breath caught in his throat as he felt the familiar grasp of her hand.

His eyes focused on the soft strawberry blonde curl that rested on her shoulder and he gulped.

“Oh, it’s you.” Louisa looked up.

“Louisa,” Daniel breathed her name, looking her in the eyes.

They waltzed to the music, eyes entranced by each other. One pair of eyes held a deep yearning and the other seemed indifferent, unfocused. Daniel gulped, unsure of what to say. He looked across from him, at his brother. He was too far to hear anything. Daniel looked back at Louisa, a sudden desperation in his lungs, itching his throat and urging him to speak.

“Louisa, I’m sorry about that night.”

Louisa smiled at him but it didn’t hold the love it once did. It was a mere polite smile, one which mimicked Daniel’s expressions towards Cecile. “It’s alright,” she whispered.

“I mean every word I said though,” Daniel suddenly blurted out, the foreign taste of the alcohol he drank, luring him away from his conscious words. “I love you Louisa.”

"Daniel we’ve spoken about this,” Louisa replied sternly. “I don’t feel that way for you anymore.”

Daniel sighed shakily, “But I do, Louisa. I do love you and I know you love me inside, I don’t what has come over you. I love you more than anything in the world and I- it breaks me to see you with him, to see you look at him the way you used to look at me like he is your whole world.”

“Daniel-”

“We promised each other the world, Louisa. There is no way you can throw that away for someone else.”

“Daniel,” Louisa gripped Daniel’s shoulder a little tighter, urging him to quieten down, “You are out of your mind.”

She paused, suddenly taking in the odd scent he carried over his cologne. “Have you been...drinking?”

Daniel shook his head hurriedly, shamefully, “Just a glass- no two. Just two, I swear upon my heart Louisa, please. You look at him like he’s your world,” he continued. “I don’t know where you’ve gone.”

“Da-”

“I want you - no, I need you back,” Daniel whispered hurriedly. “We could flee, leave the country and abandon our titles to start a new life, start a new family...”

“Daniel, stop-”

“We could get our happily ever after,” Daniel pleaded, his eyes frantically searching for any flicker of change in Louisa.

“Daniel, listen to me,” Louisa whispered, “There’s no happy ever after for us, not when I don’t feel the same. What we used to be is part of the past.”

Daniel held back the hurt in his expression as he spun Louisa around once, before catching her in his arms again, in harmony with the others on the floor.

“I love Christian,” Louisa pressed, pressing another weight onto his chest.

“Daniel, I’m married to him now,” she reminded him. “Just let it go.”

Daniel whimpered, “Louisa, I can’t. Wait, no please-”, he tugged her hand back, desperately as she began to move away.

Louisa looked back at Daniel, her expression only filled with an emotion Daniel despised - pity.

“I’m sorry,” her hand slipped through Daniel’s as she joined hands with the next person beside her. Christian.

Daniel stepped back, watching as her eyes lit up when she was in his arms. Christian said something to her and she laughed. Daniel’s face fell even more as he watched her smile. He used to be the one who could make her happy like that.

He shook his head from side to side, his lips trembling as he backed away from the crowd. Daniel turned around, bumping straight into another person. They gasped, looking up. Cecile, Daniel recognized. He wished for anything else but running into someone he knew, hoping that the ground would just swallow him up.

“Daniel,” Cecile spoke, concerned. “Are you alright?”

Daniel gulped, “I-”

The sudden tear that fell from his eyes, rushed him to push past Cecile, as he headed straight for the doors of the hall. Daniel clenched his fist, his fingers pressing into his palms as he opened the doors and walked into the hall. He breathed deeply, holding back his tears and ignoring the calls of the guards.

He navigated the empty halls of the castle, wiping another tear away as he recalled her words.

“There’s no happy ever after for us.”

He walked aimlessly, trying to find a familiar room. His room, the music room, any room far enough to feel far enough. Daniel unbuttoned the top of his collar, the material growing uncomfortable and far too restraining.

The way she looked at him.

He took a sharp turn to the right, nearing an unfamiliar corridor. The windows on the side let in the bright moonlight, casting a glow over the dusted ornaments and paintings on the wall. Daniel walked across the hallway, in search for some familiar passage he could recognize. When he found none, realising he was lost, he cried out. Daniel slammed his fist against the wall.

“I’m sorry.”

The tearing pain in his chest and the frustration of being lost broke the last straw. A strangled cry left his lips and Daniel fell to the ground on his knees. He gripped his hair, sobs wracked his body. The sound of his cries in the deserted hallway was chilling, almost mocking as the young prince fell apart under the burden of his pain.

The feel of her hands in his, her smile, her laugh, her everything. The touches in the late hours of the night, all the promises sealed. He carved her name into his heart for eternity. Yet, she engraved someone else’s name into hers, tied by vows and a silver band. A feeling which only they knew and held once, fell to ruins. A tragic end tied by the secrecy of what was once love.

#Daniel seavey #Daniel seavey imagines #Daniel seavey imagine

21 notes · View notes

janekfan · 4 years

Note

trying to think of a good prompt bc um. i love ur writing so much and looove some good angst/beating up jarchivist... do u have a take on the classic ‘i really loved you, you know’ possible misunderstanding (jon thinks martin doesn’t love him like that anymore, beats himself up about it & tries his hardest to respect what he perceives as martin’s boundaries/to not make him uncomfortable w the love he doesn’t think he wants from him anymore for reasons he can only guess at, tries to hide the toll everything is taking on him, martin thinks jon just saved him from the lonely bc he’s Jon, still thinks jon doesn’t feel that way about him, doesn’t let himself reach out for the comfort/contact he still needs & maybe has another scary brush with the lonely? cue self deprication mutual pining angst misunderstanding awkwardness distance maybe some tears! but then like. communication and realization and comfort and love love love?)???!

@transcendentalbf Thank you so much! It’s missing some detail but I hope it’s okay!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26803027

He doesn’t want to see you.

Jon looked down at their hands, clasped tightly together in his lap as Martin slept against his bony shoulder. It couldn’t possibly be comfortable. It couldn’t. That was never a descriptor applied to Jonathan Sims. He worried at Martin’s fingers with his own, rubbing warmth back into them though he had none to spare. They were headed to Scotland. To a safe house, if anything could be called safe these days with eyes all around and everywhere and watching, watching, watching.

He doesn’t want to see you.

That’s alright. He wouldn’t have to. Jon would deliver him, protect him, do whatever he needed as long as it kept Martin here with him. He didn’t need anything more than that and while Jon was quite possibly the worst liar in the whole of the population, he would make sure he didn’t take anything more than that. Selfish and monstrous and Martin had to suffer his company. He couldn’t ask for more. He couldn’t ask for more because he was too late.

I really loved you, you know?

And he hadn’t, he really, really hadn’t. Not until it was too late. And now.

Loved.

Loved

He'd taken too long, and maybe that foolish part of him always thought Martin would wait until--

Until when?

It was too late to love him because there wasn't much left of him to love. He wasn't worth it. Not anymore. Maybe not ever. Jon pressed a secret, trembling kiss to the top of his head. He’d committed so many crimes, what more harm could it cause to add one more to the list?

But he wouldn't abandon him again. Not for anything. And he would keep his own love a secret so Martin wasn't burdened with guilt. He could do so little for him, but he could do that.

“Up you come, Martin.” The train lurched to a stop.

“...Jon?” Exhausted and cold, wisps of fog clung to his hair, escaped his mouth with a sigh. It was like an infection, the Lonely. It would take time to recover. Lucky that. They didn’t have much more than time at the moment.

“Hm.” Jon hummed his assent, staggering under Martin’s taller, heavier bulk until he managed to get his feet under him. “Good, good. You’re doing so well.” The praise was clumsy, foriegn on his tongue and ill fitting in his mouth. Martin didn’t seem to notice, just shivered where they stood, and it was a relief. Cajoling, tugging, Jon got him off the train, bad leg beginning to buckle under their combined weight and he grit his teeth against the pain and pressure. “I know the way.” Voice light, Jon trudged forward, limp agonizing, slow, and they were a pair of ants scuttling up the hill under cover of darkness.

Finally, Martin was tucked up in bed, every spare blanket Jon could find piled on top of him, and he even got a glimpse of tired eyes before he lost him to sleep. Sinking to the floor, Jon tugged at his curls, distracting himself from the ache in his hip with a different sort of pain but with nothing else to focus on save for the slow inhale, exhale of Martin’s peaceful breathing, Jon couldn’t do much else other than endure. An exhausted sentinel trapped with his own spiraling thoughts.

He’d meant it. In that moment surrounded by fog and mist and menace, he meant it. He wanted more than to just survive. He'd known nothing but raw survival for what seemed like an eternity. He wanted so much more for the first time.

And he'd thrown away his chance.

Too hot, Martin shoved at the covers, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and staring up into unfamiliar rafters. The last thing he remembered was the smell of salt and the sound of the sea, wrapped up in a cloud’s soft, cloying embrace. It had been gentle there and he’d been there long enough that being so present, here and now, was overwhelming. There was an echo of a hand in his, smaller, fine boned and familiar. Pulling. Dragging. Leading. Him out of that place.

Jon.

Where was Jon?

Martin sat up, swinging his legs out of the bed and finding clean clothes laid out on the end of it. The scent of strong tea lingered in the pleasantly warm air and he followed it to the small kitchen, the familiar figure doing the washing up loosening the knot tied around his heart. He was here. He was safe. They were safe. At least for a little while.

“Jon.” The naked relief flooding through his veins was embarrassing, the little jump of surprise he’d caused endearing

“M’Martin!” Turning swiftly, Jon almost lost his footing, catching it quickly, mouth quirked in a half smile. “You, you look so much better.”

“I feel better.” Surprised when he found it was really true. A beat of silence passed between them, Jon growing more and more uncomfortable if the caginess about him said anything.

“Oh! Uh! Th’there’s tea. It, I’m sure it’s not as good as yours, it couldn’t possibly be.” He made room for Martin to pass by, jittery and shaking. “I’m sorry, I. Wasn’t sure what you’d want to eat but there’s some--”

“Jon.”

“--Nothing in the fridge of course but--”

“Jon.” With a little more force, punctuated by a step forward, and Martin heard his teeth click when his jaw snapped shut. “I’m sure whatever we have is fine.”

“Ah. Alright. Yes. Of course.” He wrung his scarred hands, something unidentifiable in his expression. “I’ll. I. Of course.” Jon practically fled the room, skirting Martin as if his touch might hurt him, and the ache it left in his wake was debilitating. But Martin had pulled away from him for a whole year; it was no wonder Jon didn’t want anything to do with him. He was altruistic. He saved people because that's what he did and he’d be the first to deny it.

So of course he’d saved Martin.

It wouldn’t do to attribute it to reciprocated feelings. Martin could barely remember what he’d said in the Lonely, what he’d said to Jon. But it felt like a confession. Was that the problem?

Did he Know his infatuation? Was he disgusted that someone like Martin dared love him?

Martin poured his tea, savoring it because of whose hands made it and found Jon in the sitting room, curled up with a book in an overstuffed chair.

“It’s good.” Jon chuffed, laughter like music.

“You’re too kind.” And the wry tone was so familiar and so Jon Martin chuckled along with him. They fell into a comfortable silence, at a comfortable distance.

And this was enough. Martin would make sure it was enough.

When Jon insisted on taking the couch because it wasn’t like he slept much anyway, that was enough too.

Days passed.

Jon withdrew.

Skittish and wan. A ghost skirting the edges of Martin’s periphery, and he wanted so badly to hold him close, ease his trembling, help him find even a measure of peace if there was any left to be found.

Jon thought he could do this. Thought he was strong enough to at least give Martin this one, small thing but the profound ache of what he’d lost without even knowing he’d had it in the first place carved him out and he hugged himself tighter lest his useless heart fall from the gaping wound that was his ribcage. Raw and empty, he wasn't strong enough to hold himself together against the sheer amount of love in him with nowhere to go and it was tearing him apart.

It’s only you. It’s only you. It’s only you.

When it overcame his childish sand castle walls, eating through them like the hungry surf in all directions, from all sides, Jon let the tears come. Quiet. Be quiet. Shh, shh, shh.

But I love him. I love him. I love him.

It wasn’t fair.

“Jon?” You idiot, he needs to rest and look what you’ve done. Selfish. Stupid. Please. “Please what, Jon? How can I help?”

“N’no, no. Go, go back to bed, y’y’you need to--” a sob choked him and he couldn’t finish speaking, could barely breathe, drowning in an unfamiliar want. Fingertips touched his jaw, applied pressure to lift his face and the look in Martin’s eyes stole the rest of the air in his lungs. “I love you.” He slammed his palms over his traitorous mouth, curling forward and inadvertently into Martin’s waiting arms and he was too weak to resist, instead babbling, crying, words night unintelligible. “I love you! And I, I know. I know y’you don't feel the same and I'm too late but. But I want in a way, in, it's frightening how much and I'm afraid I'll do s’something foolish when, when all I, I, I want to d’do is keep you safe.”

“Breathe, Jon. Breathe, it’s alright.”

“I've. I've t’tried to give you space. And. A’and not. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I've. I shouldn't have said anything and I'm so, s’so sorry.”

“Hush now, hush and look at me. Look at me, Jon.” Demanding carefully, and Jon turned to him like a worn and weathered bloom seeking out the sun. Martin immediately, desperately wanted to fold him back up again, touch him softly, kindly, because no one has done that for him in so long. Gently, Martin swept his thumbs beneath red eyes wrung with dark shadows, brushing away tears even when they showed no sign of stopping. “It’s alright, shh. It’s alright.” It’s not. It wasn’t alright and Jon shook his head, stiffening in his arms when Martin pressed him into his shoulder.

“M’sorry, m’sorry, M’Martin.” Greedy, never content with what was offered, always had to take. To take and take and take and he took more now, leaning heavily into Martin, pressing as close as possible, winding his arms around his waist and clutching his jumper.

“Okay, okay. Why did you think I needed space?” Soothing, his broad palm weighed heavy on his back, up, down, repeated. “Why so sorry?”

“I. I--you. Loved me.” Saying it like this was torture, a knife twisting in his gut. he never wanted to hear it again. He could. He could pretend. If he never heard it again. “And I. I never knew. Not until it was too l’late.”

I really loved you, you know?

You know?

Jon was exhausted. Upset and aching. Completely limp in his arms and so confused. Why hadn’t he pushed him away? He wasn’t obligated to keep holding Jon together. Especially not after he’d fallen into so many pieces.

“Jon. I think.” Martin hummed, lips close to his ear, breath a slow warmth against the shell of it. “I need to make something clear.”

“You don’t need to do anything.” Jon closed his eyes, stray tears slipped between damp lashes. “I understand.”

“I’m not sure you do.” Sweetly, Martin cupped the back of his head, brushed a kiss to his pulsepoint. “Because I do love you.”

“You don’t, you don’t have to say that.” Shaky, small.

“I do.” Martin pushed him back by the shoulders only to press their foreheads together. “I do. I love you, Jon. In the Lonely, I. It’s not important. Not right now.” Martin leaned back, bringing Jon with him, tucking him under his chin. “I love you. I’m excited that you love me too.” Muffled in a tight throat still choked with too much emotion.

“I think I’ve loved you for a long time, Martin.” Chaste, gentle, he pressed a kiss to the corner of Jon’s mouth, smiling when his lips turned up beneath his own.

“And I’m so glad for it.”

#TMA #The magnus archives #jmart #jonmartin #mutual pining #unrequited love #kinda #they're foolish #tmafanfic #love #first kisses #jon sims #martin blackwood

79 notes · View notes

kpop-zone · 4 years

Text

A Little Longer pt.2 | Jennie

Warnings: mentioning of alcohol and anxiety

Wordcount: 8,479

A/N: Thank you guys for your support on the first part. It really warmed my heart to read all of your kind messages <3 Here’s the much requested second part. Um it’s quite angsty, so everyone with a weak heart (me haha) shouldn’t probably read it...

Part 1 Part 3

“Stop. Let her live in peace.”

Jennie flinched in surprise when Jiyong suddenly stepped into her field of vision, causing her to blink a few times to snap back into reality.

“W-what?”

She asked confused because she had been too engrossed in scanning the faces of the guests to process the words of her friend.

“We both know that you are looking for Y/N.”

He sighed causing Jennie to look to the floor in embarrassment. Either she had been too obvious, or he knew her too well.

“Don’t.”

Jiyong’s voice was firm and almost aggressive, but Jennie didn’t hold it against him. He was your friend too and he was right. She shouldn’t be searching for you; after all, it had been her that had pushed you away in the first place. The temptation, however, of just getting a glimpse of you tonight had been too strong to resist. Thoughts of you had haunted her since the day that Jiyong had given her the invite to the vernissage. He didn’t talk about you often considering his loyalty to both of you, but Jennie knew without a confirmation that you would be here tonight.

Therefore, her eyes had automatically started scanning the crowd for your face the second she had stepped into the building. Jennie was well aware that there was no logical reason for her to seek for you tonight, but so many questions had piled up in her head that she couldn’t stop herself. Did you still look the same? Would you be here with someone else? Would you be looking for her?

She told herself that curiosity was her only motivator for her wandering gaze. But then as the crowd suddenly started to turn against her, Jennie couldn’t deny anymore that it wasn’t only curiosity that made her crave you. A desire to have you by her side suddenly flared up. You had always been her safety net in moments like this and she wished that she could cling to your hand to find new strength. She knew that it was a selfish desire, but something about you had always caused her to lose all control over her feelings. So she had started to look for you. Jiyong, however, had snapped her out of her emotional drunkenness. His scolding felt like a slap in the face and managed to sober her up again.

What was she thinking?

She needed to stay away from you. Even a glance could break her neck. Therefore, she probably owed Jiyong a thank you, but right now she couldn’t stop herself from being embarrassed. He planted himself in front of her, scolding her like a little kid and making her feel two heads smaller under his piercing gaze.

“I’ve still not completely forgiven you for breaking her heart, but who knows... maybe it was for the better. At least that’s what I’ve been telling myself to accept your decision. Now you need to stand up for your actions and stop playing games.”

Warningly Jiyong nudged her with his index finger, causing Jennie to nod in agreement. She knew that she couldn’t expect anything but disapproval from him, nevertheless, Jennie’s heart ached because of his harsh words. Like always, people only saw one side of the story and once again, she was the bad guy. The only one that had been able to see her true self were you. But Jennie assumed that she had ruined that picture of her in your head as well, the day that she had broken your heart. Maybe it was time to just embrace her true, monstrous self. All the people in this room hated her anyways, so she might as well be who everyone thinks she was.

With a glance around the crowd, Jennie noticed that people were still staring at her while hissing whispered words under their breaths, causing her to roll her eyes. She needed a break from this public presentation of hers. Therefore, she opted to just agree with Jiyong instead of starting a fight to be able to flee the scene.

“Understood.”

She said sweetly, despite feeling her perfect façade crumbling.

“Well I’m going to get myself a drink if that’s allowed.”

Jiyong rolled his eyes in response to her sarcasm but motioned her to leave.

Jennie flashed him one of her fake smiles before brushing past him with no intention, however, to seek the bar. All the chatter around her felt like someone was squeezing all the air out of her lungs and she needed to escape.

Feeling the burning gazes of the other guests on her, she tried to keep her composure until she reached the dimly lit hallway to the restroom. As soon as the others lost sight of her, she felt tears springing into her eyes and she stumbled blindly the rest of the way, while hiding her face behind her hands. Just before Jennie could reach the restrooms, however, she bumped forcefully into someone else, causing her to almost fall. Her gaze snapped up to apologize, but when she met the eyes of the other person, the little rest of air that had been inflating her lungs till now was forcefully knocked out.

“Y/N?”

She choked out, not having expected to see you from up close today. Everything else stopped moving around her and for a moment, she was only able to see your face, making her study every little detail until Jennie saw a familiar expression flashing over it.

Concern.

It made her remember that tears were burning in her eyes. But she didn’t want you to worry about her. Her business was none of your concern anymore. Therefore, she quickly put a gummy smile on that she had practiced in the mirror a thousand times for moments like this.

“It’s been a while! How are you doing?”

Jennie asked, proud of herself for sounding so cheerful. She almost made herself believe that she was fine.

Almost.

A part of her, however, still hadn’t quite processed the fact that she was standing in front of you again. Her eyes kept scanning every single detail of your face, curious to see whether anything had changed. But with every passing second, it was harder for her to concentrate on your physical appearance as she could see that your demeanor was drastically changing. Your eyes darted from her face, to the empty hallway behind her to the floor. You seemed nervous, almost scared if Jennie were to guess.

Your distraught look took her attention away from your beautiful lips and rosy cheeks; instead she noticed how black circles underneath your eyes were contrasting your unusual pale skin, making her furrow her brow in concern. What was going on? You seemed to be drifting off as you stayed quiet and your eyes stared right through her, leading to an uncomfortable silence in the hallway that was only disturbed by the faint bass of the music in the big hall.

“Y/N?”

Hoping to snap you back into reality, Jennie broke the silence, causing you to clear your throat awkwardly.

“Um... fine. I’m perfectly fine.”

You stuttered as your gaze flickered up to meet her eyes before getting lost in the distance again.

Irritation suddenly started making Jennie feel annoyed. You were lying. She had always been able to see right through you. Why did you think that you were able to fool her now? She needed to know the truth though.

Without hesitation, she reached out and wrapped her fingers around your wrist to grab your attention. As if someone was threatening you with a gun, your gaze snapped up and you looked at her with wide eyes.

“That’s a lie.”

Jennie stated almost coldly, feeling lightly amused by your panicked expression.

“W-what? Don’t be silly.”

Your nervousness was clearly showing now.

Jennie had to fight back the urge to chuckle as you had subconsciously started walking backwards like you were standing in front of a lion. You had always made it so easy for her to throw you off balance.

Some things apparently never changed.

It was wrong to toy with you right now, but it reminded Jennie of old times when she made you flustered in public, just to have you begging for more when you came home later. This game had always been one of her favorites, giving her the kick that she needed sometimes to survive her everyday life.

She would just have a little more fun with you tonight before letting you go. It was just what she needed.

“Really? Then why are you shaking?”

Jennie lowered her voice teasingly while smirking triumphantly when you hid your hands behind your back.

“I’m not.”

You blurted out, causing Jennie to let out a mischievous laugh. You were getting more adorable with every second.

Suddenly, however, you piped up with a relatively firm voice.

“How are you though? I heard about the dating scandal.”

Your taunting tone came unexpected, taking Jennie off guard for a second.

You had never been one to fight dirty. No matter how nasty an argument had been, you would always refuse to stoop to a lower level. Your words were thoughtfully chosen, and you’d rather let her win the argument before hurting her with a mean comment.

This trait of yours, however, seemed to have changed.

Jennie knew that you had seen the people gossiping about her earlier. And she knew that you were aware of her biggest weakness: she had always allowed the public to hurt her more than she should. Apparently, you wanted to use this weakness to your benefit right now and rise above her. But your plan had one error. Opposing to you, she wouldn’t fight fair. No, she knew how to work your triggers.

“What can I say, fame always comes with hate.”

Her words shot right through the walls that were surrounding you, making you gulp thickly in response. She knew that she could make you insecure with memories of the past. Your nostalgia had always been one of your biggest enemies.

“Do you remember how you used to take care of me when I was involved in another scandal?”

With every brick that she managed to break out of the wall that was only shakily protecting you right now, she took a step closer, feasting on your obvious inferiority. Jennie couldn’t even tell what all of this was for. What would she do if you were backed up against the wall and couldn’t flee anymore? The only thing she knew was that the tension between the two of you was unbearable and that she needed some form of relief. She would leave it up to you in which form she would get it. But first, she needed to make your resistance turn to dust. And she knew exactly how to do that.

“I miss those times.”

The lethal words rolled easily over her tongue, eliciting precisely the reaction that she had wanted to see in you.

Your breath hitched in your throat and all of your movements stilled, making it possible for Jennie to press her body against yours.

“Jennie.”

Your voice was only above a whisper, making your effort of pushing her away useless as it sounded more like a plea to continue. And who was she to deny you what you wanted? Therefore, Jennie leaned into you, placing her mouth just inches next to your ear, causing shivers to run down your neck.

“I just don’t want to be alone right now.”

The moment her breathed words reached your ear, all resistance left your body, making your hands fall to your side. Jennie would have never forced you to do something that you didn’t want to do, but your changed demeanor was enough consent for her to roughly shove you inside of the restroom. Impatiently she checked the stalls for other guests before devoting all her attention to you again.

You were standing in the middle of the room like a lost puppy, making the urge to claim you hers almost unbearable. Even if she had tried to seduce you, she was feeling her own skin burn in need of your touch by now. But she needed to contain herself. This joy wouldn’t be hers for long, considering the public accessibility of this place, so she needed to savor every second of it.

Slowly she walked into your direction, feeling your burning gaze on her that made her heart rate pick up and heat spread in her lower body. You were driving her insane. But apparently, she wasn’t the only one that was desperate to finally cut through this tension. You were desperately pressing your legs together while shifting from one foot to the other, causing her to laugh. She loved to see how much you needed her right now. Nevertheless, she couldn’t torture you any longer. It was a question of time till someone would knock on the door and she knew that your willingness to take this further was a fragile matter that could crumble in her hands any second.

Therefore, Jennie pinned you against the sink and pressed her body against yours.

“Impatient, are we?”

She chuckled to savor your embarrassment a little longer, but when you shyly looked to the floor, she quickly forced you to look at her.

You shouldn’t be ashamed because of your desire; not when she wanted this exactly as much as you did. Maybe the circumstances forbade her to tell you how much she longed for your touch, but she would make sure to show you.

“Don’t be embarrassed, baby. I’ve made you wait too long, haven’t I?”

Without losing any other words, Jennie greedily unbuttoned your pants while watching how your breath hitched in your throat. Both of your waiting needed to come to an end immediately.

“Lucky for you, we don’t have all night. So I won’t make you wait any longer.”

Her words had barely left her mouth before Jennie crashed her lips into yours full of desire. The sensation made her feel dizzy and she needed to choke down a moan. She wanted to explore every single part of your body tonight and she hated the fact that this restroom could only serve for a quickie. If it were up to her, she would love you all night. But it wouldn’t take long till somebody would disturb the two of you, so Jennie worked all the weak spots on your body in lightning speed. Her lips covered every inch of your skin that she could reach with openmouthed kisses while her fingers started massaging your nipples expertly, making your panting grow louder with every second. Just when you finally rewarded her with a low moan, however, someone suddenly pushed down the door handle of the restroom, causing you to push her away. Jennie almost huffed in frustration. Why did you make it so hard for her? She was way too touch starved right now to be bothered by anything.

If she were in her right mind, she would probably see this as a sign from the universe to stop this insanity, but unfortunately, she was way too drunk on you to listen to her better judgement. She needed more of you. Therefore, she quickly pushed you back in place.

“It’s locked, babe. Don’t worry.”

Jennie winked at you before letting her hands wander your body again, but you seemed to be distracted now. You wanted to talk back as she slid her hands down your sides, but she simply shut you up with a kiss.

“They can use the other bathroom. But I promise to make it quick.”

She stated after swallowing your words while already undressing your lower half. You didn’t object, but Jennie still knew that the danger of you bolting last minute and leaving her behind completely unsatisfied was very high. She needed to make it impossible for you to leave. Therefore, she connected your lips again and started sliding her hands to your butt. Without hesitation, you pressed your body harder against hers and grabbed her neck to hold her lips in place.

Choked moans left your mouth, telling Jennie that you were ready for more. You had tried to create your own friction by pressing your legs together, but this was her pleasure. Therefore, Jennie separated your thighs to pump two fingers inside of you without a warning. You were taken off guard and needed to steady yourself on the sink while she started to pleasure you in a steady rhythm. Eventually though, your legs were too weak to support your weight and Jennie pulled you as close as humanly possible to prevent you from falling. As she thrusted deep inside you, you buried your head in her neck, making her heart flutter involuntarily. She knew that you only did it to muffle your moans, but Jennie couldn’t help but savor the feeling of this closeness. Your favorite position to fall asleep had always been closely intertwined with her and after the two of you had broken up, she had found it hard to sleep. Finally, however, she could feel again what she had been missing; even if it was just for a fleeting moment.

Suddenly Jennie tasted salt on her lips. Perplexed, she looked at herself in the mirror and realized that she had started crying. Panicked, she wiped her cheeks on her shoulder to hide her tears from you. You weren’t allowed to see this side of her again. You were supposed to think that this was nothing but a way to release tension.

Jennie cursed herself inwardly for being so emotional. She needed to get back into her zone again; be the coldhearted demon that everyone thought she was. Therefore, she quickly pushed your head back and kissed you roughly in order to clear her thoughts. But no matter how hard she tried, this was so much more to her than just sex. As you threw your head back, Jennie studied your body and was left in awe. You were looking so flawless and your moans resonating in the room made her feel high.

Your walls started clenching around her fingers, indicating that you were close, but Jennie couldn’t find satisfaction in this achievement this time; instead, her heart felt heavy. Once you would come undone, this connection between the two of you would get lost again and she wasn’t ready for it to happen yet. Therefore, she pulled away every time she was about to hit the right spot, making you become impatient. You whined cutely, causing her to giggle.

“Does that feel good?”

Jennie asked cheekily while leaning into you and caressing you with kisses.

“Please...”

You choked out in response while weakly rolling your hips into her hand.

Finally earning her pity, Jennie decided to end your torture even if it meant that it would start hers. She knew that she had to walk away right after this; still desperate for your touch and with a bad conscious killing her. But those were concerns for later. Now she wanted to savor every second of your high.

“Only because you asked so nicely.”

Jennie whispered into your ear before finally thrusting her fingers deeper into you to hit the right spot.

She could feel you losing control as your moans got louder and your movements sloppier until the tension in your body finally released and you slumped into her arms. Jennie helped you to ride out your high as long as possible; to maximize your pleasure, but also to save herself some more time with you. While you leaned against her and caught your breath, she closed her eyes to recollect herself. She was still feeling shaken up. Nevertheless, she needed to find a way to hide her feelings.

You just couldn’t know.

With a last deep breath, Jennie eventually pushed you off her, making her miss your body as soon as your warmth left her. You supported your weight on the sink while your chest was still rising and falling in a rapid pace. But Jennie needed to avert her gaze from you. You were looking so vulnerable right now and she wished that she could hold you in her arms to whisper loving words into your ear. It broke her heart to see you uncomfortably tugging on your clothes. You had never hidden your body before. The two of you had always been so comfortable around each other, but that had changed since you weren’t hers anymore.

Feeling herself getting choked up again, Jennie quickly rushed to the sink to wash her hands. Your gaze followed her, but she tried her best to block it out. There was no use in caving in now. Maybe you couldn’t see it right now, but eventually you would realize that she had done everything for you.

Looking at herself in the mirror, Jennie decided that for once she couldn’t be selfish. You deserved someone better than her, so she needed to finally let you live in peace. For you, she needed to be strong and put her ice mask on. You needed to believe that there was nothing of the old Jennie left in her.

With a gaze as cold as ice, Jennie eventually turned around and saw you still leaning against the sink. Nonchalantly, she took some paper towels and shoved them into your hands.

“Clean up.”

Jennie demanded before strutting to the door. She could see you flinching as if you were about to run after her.

So you were still holding on to her; after all this time.

But you needed to stop. The Jennie that you had known was an illusion. She was a monster; selfish, cold and calculating. You finally needed to let her go. Collecting all her strength, Jennie threw a last glance at you. It was emotionless and empty in hopes that you would finally give up on her if you saw that she was nothing but an empty shell.

For a second, Jennie was caught by your fragile looks again but then she quickly slipped out the door before she would change her mind. As soon as she was standing in the hallway, however, her façade crumbled to dust and she clutched her chest as an overwhelming pain shot through her heart. Maybe you would not waste a single thought on her after tonight, but she would never be able to leave your relationship behind.

The thought of this being the last time that she would see you made Jennie’s stomach turn, causing an unbearable nausea to rise inside of her. Instantly her palms became sweaty and a familiar pressure in her chest cut off her windpipe. Everything was just too much for her in this moment and she knew that it wouldn’t take long for her body to have a breakdown unless she stopped herself from spiraling.

Hoping that some fresh air, could make her mind cool down, Jennie stumbled to the back exit, bolting through it as if her life depended on it. Gladly she ended up standing in an empty side alley where no one would see her even if she broke down. Wanting to prevent that, however, she supported herself on the wall while tumbling over to catch her breath. Although it was dead-silent in the alley, Jennie had the feeling that she was standing in an overcrowded club. Her blood was roaring her in her ears and her head was buzzing, making her feel dizzy. She concentrated on her breathing, but it felt like she was being sucked into an undertow that she couldn’t escape.

Desperate sobs escaped her lips as she couldn’t pull herself out of this downward spiral on her own. In the past, you had always been her emergency exit, but of course she had managed to mess that up like everything in her life. Who was supposed to save her now?

“Jennie?”

A sudden voice and sensation on her shoulder made her rip her head around.

To her dismay, however, she wasn’t met with your face, but Jiyong’s instead. Confusion was written all over it and he insecurely patted her back.

“What are you doing here?”

Jennie choked out as she tried to catch her breath again.

“You triggered the silent alarm, so the security informed me.”

He explained while assessing her miserable state.

Jennie almost rolled her eyes. Jiyong had managed to rip her out of her downward spiral, but she wasn’t glad to see him; she wasn’t in the mood to talk right now. He would never just let her leave without an explanation though.

“What is going on?”

He asked expectedly and Jennie quickly avoided his gaze to make herself be less predictable.

“Nothing...”

She mumbled under her breath, but Jiyong quickly lifted her chin up and made her look at him.

“Sure. You’re having a panic attack in this disgusting alley for nothing...”

He sounded impatient and Jennie closed her eyes in hopes to find herself in her bed once she opened them again. But when she peaked one eye open, she was still standing in front of her best friend who waited for an explanation. Therefore, Jennie sighed in defeat and prepared to recount the incidents of the night.

“It’s Y/N...”

As soon as Jiyong heard your name, he pinched the bridge of his nose frustratedly. It was probably hard to be constantly caught between the frontlines. But Jennie didn’t force him to be friends with her. It was his choice, so he should be able to assess things objectively. Therefore, she continued telling him everything -without going too much into detail of course- causing him to look at her enraged.

“What is wrong with you?”

He yelled and Jennie wished more than ever that it hadn’t been him that found her here.

“What about ‘Let her live in peace’ didn’t you understand?”

It was obvious that he just wanted to make everything right; be a good friend to her and to you. But little did he know that he had just managed to rip the wound open again that Jennie had tried to close painstakingly.

“How could you have seduced her? Just to play your evil games? Do you know how long it took her to live a normal life again?”

Jiyong talked himself into a rage, not realizing how more and more tears started pooling in Jennie’s eyes. Little cracks started to cross her heart, making it hard to hold back all the pain that she had trapped inside. This bubble of misery wanted to burst, pressing against the walls of her heart making its surface chap.

“You left her. You broke her heart. You destroyed her life.”

His words were the final straw, causing Jennie to burst into tears. A gut-wrenching sob escaped her lips as she couldn’t hold in all the pain anymore. Her body started trembling and Jennie crouched down to the floor to hug her own legs in hopes to make herself feel less vulnerable.

“Do you think I wanted to leave her??”

Jennie sobbed, feeling her lungs starting to burn from the lack of oxygen.

Jiyong looked at her perplexed because of her sudden burst of emotions, but Jennie just couldn’t hold back her tears anymore. Realizing that he might have pressed the wrong buttons, Jiyong wrapped his arms around her, making Jennie’s urge to tell the secret that she had kept for so long unbearable.

She was tired of telling the wrong story. For once, she wanted someone to see everything from the perspective of the bad guy.

---

“No, no, no please don’t make me do that.”

Jennie sobbed while tears were blurring her view.

“You had it coming, Jennie. You knew our deal. One more scandal and it’s over.”

Hyunsuk said coldly without any regard to her emotional state.

“But it wasn’t my fault! We just went out for a drink. There were others with us.”

She yelled in desperation, hoping to break through the apathy of the rigorous CEO.

“Do you think anyone cares? The pictures show a different story. Once again, your name is all over the news because of a misconduct of yours. Apparently, you are not able to take care of your reputation, so I will do it for you now.”

He scoffed, causing Jennie’s blood to boil. As her manager, he was supposed to take care of her and her interests. But he couldn’t care less about them. Instead of taking her side and defending her from the false accuses, he was just searching for the easiest solution.

“We can surely ask the bar owner to confirm that we went out as a group. It wasn’t just Minkyu and I.”

She desperately tried to come up with her own solution.

She couldn’t lose you.

“No one would believe that! This is the perfect dating scandal. Everyone is talking about it. The decisions that you make are always questionable. But that is over now. I will make the decisions from now on. So you will break up with Y/N.”

His last sentence caused Jennie’s blood to freeze. She couldn’t believe that he tried to use this scandal to break up her relationship. You had nothing to do with it. But your relationship had been a thorn in his flesh from the beginning, so he wanted to have you out of the picture. And now he had finally found a way to do exactly that.

“I will not break up with Y/N!”

Jennie talked back defiantly, but Hyunsuk only looked at her with an arrogant gaze.

“Fine. But then you’re out of the group.”

His threat came unexpected, causing Jennie to gasp.

“You can’t do that!”

She exclaimed in shock, leading to a mischievous laugh of her boss.

“Of course, I can. Your contract says that you are allowed to date with the approval of the management. Hereby, we revoke that approval.”

A sly grin formed on his lips, making Jenny want to wipe it off his face with her hands. She clenched her fists and looked at Hyunsuk full of hatred. But she knew that there was nothing that she could do. He had the winning hand. No matter which decision Jennie made, she would lose.

It was either you or her career.

---

“I’m a monster, Jiyong. Do you understand? I chose my career over Y/N.”

There hadn’t been a day since the breakup that Jennie didn’t regret her choice. In the moment, she had thought that music could eventually be enough. She loved performing and she had sacrificed so much to become an idol. It had simply not seemed possible for her to give up on all that. But now a year later, she was smarter. She knew that she couldn’t live without you either.

“You’re not a monster, Jennie. I’m so sorry, I didn’t know. I can’t believe he made you do that.”

Jiyong was absolutely dumbfounded and disbelief was written all over his face.

“He didn’t make me do it. I could have chosen Y/N. But I didn’t, because I’m selfish.”

New tears rolled down Jennie’s cheeks as regret consumed her whole body.

“Don’t say that. Y/N wouldn’t have wanted you to give up your career for her. But...why didn’t you just tell her the real reason?”

Jiyong asked confused and Jennie lowered her head in shame.

“Because deep down I knew that it was the wrong decision. I was so scared that Y/N would ask me to stay; I wouldn’t have been strong enough to walk out if she would have told me to choose her. I needed Y/N to hate me, so that there was no going back for me.”

In hindsight, Jennie regretted nothing more than her cowardice. The truth would have been the least that you deserved. But once again, her own selfish needs had been more important to her.

Jennie buried her face in her hands while Jiyong desperately tried to cheer her up.

“It’s not too late though. You can still tell Y/N the truth.”

Jiyong suggested, but Jennie only scoffed in response.

“What for? Don’t you listen? I’m selfish and everything about me is wrong! Y/N should be with someone better.”

Jennie had given up on the idea of cleaning up her mess a long time ago. In the first weeks after the breakup, she had found herself several times in front of your building, wanting to beg for your forgiveness. But the knowledge that you were probably hating her, had always held her back. And now it was simply too late. There was no use in trying to change the course of time.

“What for?! To finally end both of your suffering!”

Jiyong practically yelled in disbelief, causing Jennie to look at him perplexed.

Both of you? Did that mean that you were you suffering like her? Was that the reason that you looked so pale?

“Y/N is suffering?”

Jennie cursed herself for the hope in her voice. She should feel bad for hearing that your broken heart had apparently not healed till now, but something inside of her was glad that you hadn’t moved on; it was the part that she had tried to destroy throughout the year, because it was still causing her to drive by your apartment from time to time.

“Yes. I know she thinks that no one noticed. But I can see how her smile never quite reaches her eyes and how she’s not brimming over with life anymore.”

Jiyong sighed worriedly, making Jennie realize that the two of you were miserable fellows.

How could it be that both of you were still suffering after all this time? Maybe you just weren’t meant to be happy.

Or maybe you were just supposed to be together.

Jennie immediately banned that thought from her head. She had put this relationship behind. She had made the decision to prioritize her career, so now she should stand up for it. It wouldn’t be fair to poke around the past.

But once that thought had been planted in her head, it was impossible for Jennie to stop it from spreading. Jiyong asked her to come back inside and enjoy the rest of the vernissage, but mentally she was far from being in that old warehouse. You seemed to have vanished into thin air, but that didn’t stop Jennie from thinking about you nonstop. Her mind was a cinema that showed her pictures of you in a loop. The dark circles under your eyes, the way your breath hitched because of her touch, the panic in your face when she left you standing in the restroom. Could it be? Were you still hung up on her?

Jennie martyred her brain with this question. Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, but she still couldn’t figure out what to do. All this time, she had thought that it was impossible to go back to before the two of had broken up. She had not only broken your heart. But she had broken it, because she had chosen something else over you. You deserved better. You deserved someone that put you first, no matter what. Therefore, she had decided to never be selfish again; to let you go. But after hearing from Jiyong how hard the breakup still was on you, her mind couldn’t find a peaceful moment. He had planted the thought of a second chance in her heart. Maybe you could learn to forgive her. Maybe you would show her mercy after learning the whole story.

To protect her heart, she had built this wall around it, made of self-hatred and hopelessness. It was supposed to prevent her from caving in and running back to you. But the seed of hope managed to grow despite the hostile environment. Its sprouts broke little cracks into this wall in the course of months until there was nothing left in Jennie any more than confusion and longing.

She needed to know whether there was still a chance.

What if she was being selfish by denying you the opportunity of getting back together? What if the two of you were just meant to be?

---

The urge of telling you the whole story grew and grew until Jennie couldn’t suppress it anymore one night. As so often in the past weeks, she had gone out to drown her sorrows when she eventually found herself in front of your apartment complex. It hadn’t been her intention to end up there, but her feet had carried her automatically. With the liquid courage fueling her, she dragged her feet to your door, just to find out that it wasn’t yours anymore. A tired and annoyed looking woman in her 50s grumpily opened the door, causing Jennie to stumble backwards.

You had moved?

It reminded her that she wasn’t part of your life anymore, making her even more desperate. Hastily Jennie rushed out of the building and dialed your number.

The number you dialed is not in service.

Like it was making fun of her, the robotic voice on the other line repeated this sentence over and over again until Jennie crouched down on the pavement, grasping her hair in frustration.

“Y/N, I need you.”

She mumbled to herself, thinking about other ways to reach you.

Jiyong. Of course.

Jennie was sure that her best friend was still in contact with you. Since her breakdown at the vernissage, they hadn’t talked about you anymore, but she knew that he wouldn’t end your friendship unless he had a solid reason. Therefore, he had to have your address or at least your number.

Determined, Jennie called a driver and ordered them to bring her to Jiyong’s apartment as quickly as possible. Not caring that it was already 5 am, she banged against his door until he opened it with a bewildered look in his face.

“Jennie, what the hell is wrong with you?”

He cursed, but Jennie couldn’t care less.

“Give me Y/N’s number.”

She slurred, causing Jiyong to look at her confused.

“What?”

He asked, the sleep not having left his body completely yet.

“I want her back, Jiyong. You need to give me her number.”

Jennie almost sounded sober all of a sudden, her desire of making everything right this time feeling like a wakeup call.

“I can’t do that, Jennie.”

Jiyong sighed causing her to furrow her brow.

“Why not?”

She couldn’t understand why her friend always seemed to be working against her wellbeing. Slowly she was beginning to wonder on which side he was on.

“Because I’m pretty sure that Y/N doesn’t want me to give you her number. Let her move on.”

Jiyong’s voice was soft, but it couldn’t have fueled Jennie’s rage more. Let you move on? No, she couldn’t let you do that. The two of you were meant to be. It had taken her a while to understand, but her eyes were wide open now. There was no way that she would let you go another time.

“Please, Jiyong. I can fix it; I can fix everything.”

She begged, but her supposed friend shook his head sheepishly.

“I’m sorry, Jennie. But I can’t. I’m her friend too.”

Jennie didn’t know if the universe had fun putting obstacles in her way, but slowly she was losing patience. She was trying to do the right thing here, but no matter what she tried, it always seemed to be wrong. This was a cause worth fighting for though, she wouldn’t let herself be forced to her knees.

“Then host a dinner party. Like old times. Don’t just invite Y/N and me. Invite the old clique. We can have fun again and if the opportunity will pop up, I will be honest with Y/N. If not, I promise that I won’t make a scene, but will let her go.”

Her last words only rolled hesitantly over Jennie’s lips and left a bitter aftertaste. But she meant them.

This would be her final try. If the universe decided to take the thing that was dearest in her life from her, she would accept it and continue living her miserable life in order to give you the one that you deserved.

Jiyong looked at her skeptically, but eventually gave in to her pleading look.

“Fine. But I’ll hold you to your promise.”

He said warningly, but Jennie couldn’t be happier in this moment. She flew into the arms of her friend, who only managed to catch her in the last second, and repeated thankyous over and over again.

“I’m doing this to set you both free.”

Jiyong responded cryptically, causing Jennie to look at him in confusion for a second before anticipation filled her whole body.

She couldn’t even wait to finally see you again.

---

Everything went way too slow for Jennie. It took days till Jiyong finally sent out the invites and the set date for the dinner party was almost a month from then. Of course, there hadn’t been another way to plan this, because no one would have had time if the dinner were to happen on an earlier date, but Jennie’s impatience was still growing every day.

When the long-awaited day finally came around, she felt like passing out. Her hands were shaking so much that she was barely able to do her makeup and get ready. But eventually, she found herself standing in front of Jiyong’s door again, more or less presentable and with a bottle of wine in her hands. Soon after she knocked, the door swung open and she was met with the face of her friend.

“Jennie.”

He nodded slightly and Jennie wondered why he was so serious. Not being able to stifle her own joy though, she told herself that his worries had to wait for now. All her attention was focused on you tonight.

Therefore, she only quickly greeted Jiyong before brushing past him to rush to the dining room. Excitedly she scanned the guests some of whom waved at her happily, but Jennie only briefly reciprocated the gesture, her mind still revolving around you.

“She’s not here yet.”

Jennie flinched when Jiyong’s deep voice appeared right behind her.

“But she will come, right?”

Fear suddenly washed over her. What if you didn’t even want to be in one room with her?

“Yes.”

Jiyong simply answered, making a huge weight fall off Jennie’s heart.

Having learned from the best, however, you didn’t seem to be in a rush to join the party. Jennie had always made sure to appear late to everything in order to make a dramatic entrance. And now you seemed to intend to do the same thing. All the guests were already engrossed in a comfortable chatter, but you were still not there, having her on pins and needles. She only listened halfheartedly to the irrelevant words around her and couldn’t stop herself from drifting into distance with her mind.

When would you finally come? You hadn’t changed your mind, had you?

Eventually her waiting came to an end though. The moment the doorbell rang, Jennie almost leaped to her feet and ran to the door; but managed to recollect herself in the last moment. Jiyong threw a scowling gaze at her before beginning to move towards the door. Nervously Jennie began shifting in her chair as her heart slammed violently against her ribcage, making everything around her seem to fly by. But suddenly the world stopped spinning when you appeared in the entrance of the dining room. With a wide smile you looked at Jiyong before turning your gaze to the other guests. Everything turned into a blur the moment your eyes met hers and Jennie felt her heart stop beating.

You were still as breathtaking as ever.

Jennie took in every little detail of you and couldn’t stop a wide grin from forming on her lips. She would never get tired of this view. From one second to the next, however, she was ripped out of her trance. An unfamiliar face suddenly appeared right behind you, accompanied by an arm snaking around your waist. Confused, Jennie watched how you turned your head to face the other woman and to gift her with one of your loving smiles that you had only ever given her.

As if someone had emptied a bucket of ice-cold water over her head, Jennie felt the giddy feeling in her stomach turn into brutal soberness. She had to watch how you interlaced your fingers with the unknown woman and guided her to the table where you were greeted with excited chatter from the other guests.

“Y/N, I hope this is just your sister.”

One of them joked with a disgusting smirk on their face, causing you to fake a laugh.

“Sorry to disappoint, but she is off limits for you. May I introduce you to my girlfriend Subin.”

You smiled proudly as the others all bowed their heads politely.

But Jennie was frozen in place. Your girlfriend? In disbelief, she stared at the two of you as tears involuntarily started to pool in her eyes.

No.

This had to be a nightmare. This couldn’t be reality after all that she had been through. Anxiously Jennie started biting her cheek, but no matter how much pain shot through her body, she didn’t wake up. You kept standing in front of her, fondly looking at a woman that wasn’t her.

Once again everything faded into the background around you. But this time it was due to the lack of oxygen that Jennie was supplied with. A heavy weight that was made of pain, sadness and misery pressed down on her chest, making it impossible to breathe. The longer she looked at the two of you, the more it seemed like her ribcage was breaking underneath the force. Jennie could physically feel her body shattering, but she couldn’t avert her gaze.

It was what she deserved.

An evil, little voice in the back of her head kept repeating this sentence over and over again. Mockingly it sang a song about all the wrongdoings she had committed. Why should you have waited for her? It was exactly like she had always known: you deserved someone better than her. In a moment of weakness and guided by false hope, she had made herself believe that she could be enough for you. But it had been a lie.

Someone as rotten as her couldn’t be enough to provide you with the things that you needed.

Tears rolled down her cheeks as full realization hit her. Jennie’s body started shaking uncontrollably, resulting from her effort to choke back her sobs. She needed to get out of here. But she couldn’t make a scene. She had promised it to Jiyong. Panicked, Jennie looked around in search for an emergency exit. But there was none and slowly the other guests averted their gazes from the two of you, returning their attention to the rest of the table again.

“Jennie?”

Jiyong’s voice momentarily stopped the pressure in her chest to increase and she looked at him imploringly.

“Um...can you help me in the kitchen with something?”

He asked when he noticed Jennie’s tear-stained face, causing her to leap to her feet and run out the room while trying to hide her face as best as possible.

Once Jennie arrived in the kitchen, a sob left her lips and she needed to support herself on the kitchen counter in order to not break down.

“She’s happy, Jennie.”

Jiyong simply said as he joined her in the kitchen, causing her heart to clench.

“Why didn’t you warn me?”

Jennie growled as she turned around with anger and hurt in her eyes.

“Because you needed to see it for yourself. You can let her go now.”

Jiyong’s words sounded so easy to accomplish, but how could she let you go?

How could she do such a thing if she knew that afterwards nothing would be left in her life that was worth fighting for. She had long lost the joy that she had found in music, because it had been the reason for losing you. And her family and friends weren’t much of a comfort either, because none of them looked at her the way that you had. How was she supposed to be good if you didn’t remind her of her true self? How was she supposed to not turn into the cold demon that everyone made her to be? It was so hard not to get lost in all the malicious words that swung at her every day.

What was a lie? What was the truth?

There was no point, however, in trying to find the answer anymore. Truth or lie, she was the bad guy in this story. It had been up to the people to decide and it had just been too easy to assign this role to her. After all, she was the rich, arrogant and sly idol, wasn’t she? It was time to stop fighting her destiny.

A sudden soberness washed over Jennie, causing her tears to cease. If she wasn’t supposed to love, she wouldn’t allow herself to feel anything at all.

“A-are you alright?”

Jiyong stuttered perplexed and Jennie flickered her cold gaze up to meet his eyes.

“Never been better.”

She replied accompanied with a tight smile. Her friend kept looking at her in confusion and worry, making her giggle.

“I’m fine, Jiyong. Go to the other guests. I’ll join you in a minute.”

Her voice was calm and collected, showing no signs of the breakdown that she had had just a second ago. She nodded assuring, causing Jiyong to eventually leave her behind in order to be a good host to the other guests.

As soon as he had left the kitchen, Jennie’s smile faltered and left behind a cold façade. Her gaze wandered along the counters and eventually found what she was looking for.

Alcohol; the perfect catalyst for her sought numbness.

Determined, she walked to the assorted bottles and grabbed a random high-proof one. As she opened it up, Jennie thought back about the past months. The tragedy of everything made her chuckle. Wasn’t it funny how every decision that she had made to make herself happy had only caused the opposite?

At least you had finally found happiness though.

Your big smile when you were in the arms of that woman flashed by her inner eye and Jennie subconsciously grabbed the bottle harder. She would have given everything to be the cause for that smile one last time. But it just wasn’t meant to be. Everything that the two of you could apparently give each other was pain. She might as well make herself forget everything.

With that thought on her mind, Jennie lifted the bottle to her lips with no intent of putting it down until it was empty.

Just like her.

#jennie scenario #blackpink scenario #blackpink #jennie #jennie kim #girl group scenatio #girl group #jennie imagine #girl group imagine #kpop scenario #kpop

177 notes · View notes

nooneactuallyasked · 3 years

Text

Diner Gal - Reggie x Reader Part 6.5

Requested: It’s a series, there are no requests here!

Word count: 1,207

Warnings: Some sappy feelings stuff

Summary: Julie and the Phantoms ( + Flynn ) go to a musical diner/café/restaurant for inspiration and hopefully a future gig but they end up meeting a very special waitress.

Note: Okay, 6.5 here we go, sorry for the lateness, I have so many essays to do right now! To clear the dates up a little, they went to the diner on a Saturday, demo’d and had a Reggie moment on Sunday, the last part and this one are set on Monday. We have the whole rest of the week to go. I’ve never really written romance before, I usually do setting pieces but I’ll try to make it as good as possible. Enjoy!

Part 1 here Part 2 here Part 3 here

Part 4 here Part 5 here Part 6 here

---

Y/N sat there, her mouth slightly hung in awe. They really meant it when they said “go all out”, she was a sucker for music that meant something, especially to the artist and it was clear that it meant something to everyone there, perhaps a different something but something all the same. She shook off her awestruck freeze and finished up her notes.

A smile spread across Y/N’s face and she looked back up at the group, they chattered excitedly amongst each other. “Well, I think that might just hold up against the other performers.” She winked at them, a grin playing on her lips. “Hold up? We’ll do more than hold up, we’ll knock this out of the park, just watch!” Alex patted Luke’s arm, trying to calm him down; apparently when music came into play Luke’s only way of communicating was shouting excitedly. Y/N snapped her fingers next to her ear, “Okay, we’re good, I still have my hearing.” Julie looked at Luke pointedly, he rubbed his neck sheepishly “Sorry.”

Y/N shook her head, a smile spreading over her lips at their antics. She stood up, collecting her notes and paper and carefully slipping them into the purple folder, her fingers grazing against the papery surface as she places it on top of her pile. She bundles them all into her arms and sends a smile over to the group. “Well, that was absolutely amazing! And as much as I want to stay here and make you play over and over again I have to go and make notes on the highlighters, don’t worry though, next session I’ll have tips from Cal and we’ll be able to set it all up to be show-stopping!” Y/N grinned over the pile in her arms and Julie made her way over to the door, Y/N smiled in appreciation as Julie opened the door for her, “Thanks, Firecracker, don’t know what I’d do without you.” She turned to the boys and winked at them, “Don’t drive Julie too mad, I’ll see you himbos some other time.”

Julie walked Y/N to the gate, idly chatting about music, the performance details and other such things, they were just about to bid their final goodbyes when Y/N whirled around, remembering one final thing. “Hey, Firecracker, could you get your friend, Flynn, to give me a call. I’ll need your marketing team to help me make posters. If Cal likes them he might just steal her away from you.” She winks to which Julies laughs, “I’ll let her know, and I’d like to see him try, he can’t take her away that easily!”

The two girls chuckled together, Y/N looked down at her watch. “Oh shoot, I have to go or I’ll be late for the highlighter squad or whatever they’re actually called. I’ll see you soon, Miss Molina, and when I do we’re gon a make you and your boys stars.” She walked out of the gate, only turning her head slightly to smile at Julie before speedwalking to her destination.

---

“Hey! Hey! Hey, wait up!”

Y/N frowned slightly but kept walking, she had places to get to, people to coach and she didn’t even know if they were talking to her.

“Hey! Y/N! Stop for a second!”

Oh, nevermind, they did mean her. Y/N blew a stray hair out of her face and turned around, an eyebrow raised for whoever decided that she had all the time in the world and just needed to talk to them.

“You actually stopped! I mean, cool. I knew you couldn’t resist me.”

Leather Boy winked at her, a grin stretching across his face. Y/N rolled her eyes before reaching into her pocket to grab her phone, whilst simultaneously trying to balance her pile of folders in the crook of her other arm.

“Wait- what are you doing? I just wanted to talk-“

“Hi, Leather Boy, thanks for calling, what can I do you for?” Y/N smiled down at the ground, before looking up at him. She felt a bit awkward, but he seemed fine, maybe he forgot about their impromptu dance/singing fun.

“I was hoping to walk a lovely lady to her next rehearsal,” Reggie smirked, holding his head high. Then his eyes widened slightly, “But of course I don’t have to if you don’t want to because I get I can be- well. Nevermind, I’ll just go. See you around, Diner Gal.”

“Hey, wait! I don’t mind- I mean, you can walk with me…if you want. Also, Diner Gal?” Reggie picked at the skin next to his fingernails, bashfully averting his gaze as Y/N looked at him, highly amused. “Well, because you work at a diner and I like diners and food and you, so I thought it would be cool,” He looked up again, catching her gaze, a smirk finding it’s way onto his face. Her face felt warm, she knew he didn’t mean it like that but it was still nice to hear. “Plus, you call me Leather Boy and I don’t complain so I get to give you a nickname too, so there!”

Y/N laughed at his antics, a childlike proud innocence dawned his features making her smile wider. “Well, good sir clad in leather, if you would be so kind as to escort me to my destination.” She stood up straight (which actually helped balance her folders better) and pulled face, making her voice as posh as she could. “It would be my honour, my fair lady.” He mimicked her stance, making her look down, biting her lip to keep from bursting out into laughter.

“So, I’m gonna be honest, I have been told to pry information from you. Are we the best band playing or are we the best band playing? Because I know that we are, but do you know? Does everyone else know?” Y/N snorted before composing herself and looking up at him, “Okay, the arrogance is through the roof but you guys do just so happen to be my favourite performers, but Hummus comes up second. The Highlighters aren’t too shabby either, they just have outfits that make my eyes bleed.” Reggie chuckled, making the blood rush to her cheeks. She liked his smile and his laugh was music to her ears. Y/N shook her head and sped up her walking, glancing down at her watch and back up.

“Hey, wait for me!”

---

Y/N clutched onto her folders with one arm and held her phone up to her ear with the other, she was simply trying not to drop everything whilst laughing with Reggie. Their laughter faded out as they came to a stop in the wake of a giant mansion. Y/N sighs and turns to Reggie, “Well, that went quickly. Uh, thanks for walking with me, it was fun.”

“Oh, yeah, no problem. Is this it? The place, this is it?” Y/N sighed, a tired smile playing on her lips, “Sure is, I gotta go in, the Highlighters are waiting for me. I’ll see you next time, Leather Boy.”

She sent a smile his way before putting her phone in her pocket and walking over to the gate and pressed the buzzer. Reggie smiled to himself, “See you later, Diner Gal.”

---

Taglist:

@hereforthejatp @slutforjjmaybank

@morganayennefertyrell @dxestars

@dcnerd98 @ultraworthlessbitch

@revolutionary-werewolf-ghosts

38 notes · View notes

frostsinth · 4 years

Text

Royal Flush - Pt. 1

The prologue to this story can be found HERE. I plan to redo/redesign the picture at some point. UPDATE: Redid the picture HERE

A new story (because fuck me, that’s why). This time between a Goblin King, and a young human Prince. Something new and fresh I hope you will all fancy. And hopefully a line up for another fic I have planned for the future.

As always, please visit my MasterList to see my other works, and feel free to BuyMeACoffee while you are there. If you have any prompts, ideas, thoughts, or insane ramblings, I love to hear from you. Please send me all the notes, tags, asks, or DMs your little hearts desire.

Enjoy!

“… Nikostratus, I… I know you are ...conflicted,” He started, and I felt my blood run hot again at his words, “But that is no reason-”

“My life is doomed to misery, regardless of what end,” I snapped at him, anger lacing every word, cutting him off, “… At least this way, Morgana will have a chance at finding happiness.”

He fell silent, his face a mask of horror, and I turned back to face the Goblin King. Stepping forward, I placed one arm over my chest, then bent at the waist. Bowing deeply to him.

“Your Majesty, I agree to your proposal.”

“I am humbled, and honored,” The Goblin King replied, and I could hear the smirk in his voice, even as I kept my eyes on the ground beneath me. “Come, we can discuss the details further in my private study… alone.”

I stiffened slightly at his request. But realized that the word he stressed was less suggestive and more… cold? As I slowly raised from my bow, I saw his scarlet eyes glaring harshly over my shoulder. I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck prickling, and tightened my jaw. Resisting the urge to look back at my guard. Knowing now exactly whom that tone had been for and not imagining I would enjoy the expression waiting behind me.

“As you wish, Your Majesty.”

The King gestured for me to follow him, leading the way across the floor to a door set into the side of the great chamber. With my will steeled, I followed after. If Gareth attempted to follow as well, I did not know. Nor what would become of him, left alone upon my exit with the Goblin King. And with the anger at his words still hot in my blood at that moment, I didn’t care.

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” I tried not to mumble as he held the door open for me.

“Please, call me Grier. Assuming all goes well, we are to be married soon, after all.” I couldn’t help but wince at the word, and my mouth felt dry. I saw his scarlet eyes flicker to me at their corners. “And what are you comfortable with being called, Your Highness?”

I hesitated, unable to resist flinching ever so slightly as the door clunked closed behind us. “My name is Nikostratus, if it pleases you, Your Majesty.”

“Grier.” He corrected, and led the way down the smaller side hallway. I hardly took notice of my surroundings, feeling hollow and numb. “And it matters not if it pleases me. It is your name, no? Though I will admit it is a bit of a mouthful.”

I didn’t answer. I wasn’t sure how to answer. The weight of it all was suddenly dropping onto me, and I felt my palms clasped behind my back growing sweaty. I swallowed, tightening my jaw. There was still much to discuss before the arrangement could be finalized. I had to keep my head level, for the sake of my people. I could not let the goblins take more than an inch in negotiations. Couldn’t let myself be razzled by whatever life I had just signed myself up for. It was entirely possible that had been his intent! Perhaps the entire ‘marriage’ would be an endless attempt to manipulate me into breaking; to gain the upper hand. Just how far would a goblin be willing to go for one of their pranks? An arranged marriage certainly didn’t seem out of that scope. Would it lead up to the ceremony? Beyond?

“Do you have any other names you like to go by?” He pressed, opening a grand carved oak door and standing back to allow me to enter first. I stiffened, but nodded appreciatively and stepped past him as quickly as I could. “A nickname? Or perhaps you wouldn’t mind if I choose a term of endearment for you?” His voice was light and teasing, but it made a chill run down my spine. “Perhaps ‘sweetheart’ or ‘dear’. I have always liked the term ‘pet’, though I believe it would be ill suited for our… situation.”

I swallowed hard again, grinding my teeth quietly as I stopped before the grand desk in the room. I turned my head slightly to watch him saunter around to the other side after closing the large door behind himself.

“I prefer Nikostratus.” I hoped my voice didn’t sound too dry.

His crooked smirk didn’t lighten the burden of my nerves, nor allow me any relief from the notion this whole mess was simply some ploy. Some elaborate goblin mischief. But he didn’t sit in the ornate chair behind the desk as I had anticipated. Instead, he gathered up an inkwell, a handful of quills, and a roll of parchment and brought it over to the overly plush chairs set before the grand fireplace of the room.

I used that moment to take stock of the study for the first time since entering. It was large, with tall stone bookshelves filled to bursting with old tomes. The smell of their ancient parchment as well as the smoke from the fire in the large fireplace suffused the room. There were assorted knick knacks dotting every available surface, from a golden astrolabe to a pristinely painted globe and even a silver sundial propped against one wall. Aside from the huge desk and plush pair of armchairs, there was a small marble table before the fire, and a silver cart piled with various shaped decanters and glasses. The entire room was disheveled and cluttered, with heaps of parchments and quills strewn about, tomes left half opened with numerous different things from ribbons to dried flowers tucked between their pages, and the evidence of projects started but never completed.

The study was also vehemently colored, with no two fabrics matching another. There were glittering crystalline mobiles and diagrams and draped scarves dangling from the rafters. Various pillows in different shapes, colors, and sizes pooled off the armchairs onto the floor which was covered with several overlapping carpets that absolutely had no unifying color scheme. It was overwhelming, and I couldn’t help but cast an apprehensive eye about as he settled in one of the two chairs facing each other.

“Are you hungry?” He offered, simply sweeping whatever had been on the small marble table onto the floor with a clatter to make space for his parchment and quills. “Perhaps some tea? I believe I have heard humans like tea.”

It took me a breath to realize he had spoken to me. When his red eyes lifted to my face, I straightened sharply, but shook my head.

“No, Your Majesty, thank you.”

He scoffed, waving one green skinned hand. “Grier.” He corrected me again. “Now sit. We have much to discuss if we want to have a proper marriage contract drawn up tonight.”

I let out my breath slowly between tight lips. I could do this. Write up a marriage contract. A peace contract, rather. I knew how to negotiate. How to write contracts. And I needed to make sure the terms were in my kingdom’s best interest. Slowly, I walked over, glancing down at the plush chair facing his briefly before lowering myself into it. I sat at the very edge so as not to disturb the large quantity of odd shaped pillows there. This would be easier if I just was careful not to remember it was my marriage contract.

“Now then, down to business,” He drew up his quill, scribbling a long, over flourished sentence at the top of the parchment. “And I would urge you to speak your mind here, my young Prince. We must be able to forgo formalities and niceties if we are to complete a formidable and agreeable contract.” He dabbed a note. “As discussed, removal of my soldiers from your kingdom is first.”

I nodded, eyeing him as his long fingers deftly maneuvered the quill into forming short, neat little letters. “We will need to redefine the borders between the two kingdoms as well.”

One thin eyebrow raised, and he glanced up at me through pale lashes. “However do you mean?”

I placed my hands on my knees, back still ramrod straight. “The skirmishes over the last decade have allowed disputed territories to fall into your control. We would need them returned.” I cocked my head ever so slightly to the side. “As a sign of your good faith.”

He tsked, but seemed amused. “You will find I have treated your citizens quite admirably while they were beneath my occupation.” His quill scratched across the page. “Perhaps they may not wish to return.”

I paused, but decided it was just an effort on his part to get a rise out of me. “Never-the-less… They will be returned. And our borders will become defined and respected.”

A soft ‘hrumph’, and he leaned back in his chair, re-reading what he had just written. “Very well… though perhaps I was under the misinformation that our kingdoms would become united with our marriage? Forming into one?”

I resisted the urge to flinch at his words, feeling my knuckles clench slightly with the effort. “A kingdom cannot have two Kings. Royal marriages unify countries, but they do not become a single kingdom. Borders are open, allowing for trade and travel ease for citizens, as well as lower taxes for goods produced.” My voice sounded hollow and distant, even to my own ears. “There is also the expectation of allied forces, should a conflict arise for either kingdom.”

“My kingdom will.” He mused, penning a note.

I blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Have two Kings,” He glanced up at me, his crooked smirk forming again, “My Kingdom will. Unless I have your future title wrong. Would you perhaps remain a Prince by human customs?”

I felt heat rising around the edge of the collar of my shirt. “The title is not important.”

The goblin sat up taller in his seat. “It is important.” He insisted. “I want to be sure you, as well as your people, are comfortable with all terms of this contract. These are terms of peace, not surrender.”

Then why doesn’t it feel that way? I wondered quietly, but otherwise didn’t comment further. Clamping my lips shut. I reminded myself again why I was doing this; for my people. For Morgana. He waited for me to speak for a moment, his red eyes locked on my face. For my part, I made a point to focus on the fireplace.

“Alright,” He relented finally, impatient, “You tell me. What title would you have? If this was a contract between humans, hm?” He twirled the quill nimbly between his fingers. “I want to be sure to use the proper terms, so there is no confusion.”

My hands slowly curled into fists on my knees. “The title is not important.”

He sighed impatiently. “Oh come now. If it’s not important, then it should be simple enough to answer, yes?” He twirled the quill again, and my eyes darted to it from their corners. “If this was a marriage contract between a human Prince and a human King, upon their marriage, what title-”

“There is no such thing,” I snapped, cutting him off as my temper flared, “Of a marriage between a Prince and a King. It does not matter what title you choose, the concept is abhorrent to my people, and the marriage will never-” I stopped short, closing my eyes and slowly letting my breath out through my nose. “...While it will be accepted as a valid and legally binding contract of peace… It will never be accepted as a true marriage.”

A tense silence stretched between us, and for a long moment, I feared I had ruined everything. That he would no longer feel an arranged marriage between us would hold the same weight. I felt the sinking dread that the loss of my temper had doomed my sweet little sister. Or perhaps my entire kingdom. For certainly such a slight would never have been permitted in our court. A proposed marriage contract that was not a recognized marriage? Unacceptable. I sat with my eyes closed, my lips in a tight line, trying to steady my breathing. To regain my composure.

“... If I have misjudged you,” He began slowly, his previous arrogance and teasing gone from his tone, “... Or if I have been misinformed as to your… preferences...” I may have winced at the words, but I was clenched far too tight to notice “-We do not have to go forward with this contract. I will not sign anything without the clear consent of both parties.”

I slowly opened my eyes, keeping them firmly focused on the table beside me. Not daring to lift my gaze to his, though I felt his own boring into my skull. He sat silently, perhaps expecting an answer. But I did not have the strength to give it just yet. My fists were clenched so tight they were nearly white. For all his words… he didn’t seem to understand. There were no other options for me. We had to go forward with this contract. For the sake of everything I held dear. And yet, to do so meant … I struggled to keep my growing emotions in check.

“... I will expect this to be a marriage,” He informed me after the brief pause, his tone growing harsh, almost angry, “With all things that come with that. Including its consummation.” I did wince now, and internally kicked myself for doing so. “And I will not enter into a marriage where I am required to rape my partner-”

“Enough.” I boldly cut him off again, shaking my head. My voice quivering with my own anger at his vulgar yet casual language regarding such an intimate topic.

He paused again, giving me another moment to take a few deep breaths to calm my nerves. His voice, when he did speak again, was flat, but firm. And I recognized its authoritative nature. I was reminded again why this man, short of all his other faults and no matter his species, was a King of a powerful people.

“Am I wrong, Prince Nikostratus, in my judgement of you?”

I felt as a child, being scolded by their elder, and my throat was dry for that sake alone. I would have to admit it, I realized. I would have to admit it out loud, for the first time in my life. I would have to face a reality I had consigned myself to deny and carry with me to my grave. I was a Prince, after all. And a secondborn Prince at that. I would never have the power or freedom to act as I wanted; I would always be held to the responsibility of my station. The necessities of my kingdom. And despite everything, despite the deep longing I had always held to be able to love whomever I wished… I found my lips faltering to form the words.

Part of me believed it was a trick still. Some long, drawn out plan of humiliation. Of shame. Of deceit meant to ruin my honor and reputation among my people. To expose me to my family. I felt the familiar rage bubbling up inside me, and clenched my jaw in an effort to quell it. All the while, I felt his red eyes still staring at me. Waiting for the answer I had prepared myself never to give.

“... Make no mistake, Your Majesty,” I began slowly, my voice soft but hard, “If there is one thing I am sure of in this world… it is that I love my little sister with every fiber of my being. And I would do everything in my power to protect her from the evils of this world.” Carefully, I raised my gaze to meet his. “Whatever face that may take.” He opened his mouth, but I jerked my hand sharply up to keep him from speaking, lest I lose my nerve. “I understand what I am agreeing to. I understand fully what will be... expected of me. And whatever my… “ I dropped off, struggling to find what I wanted to say. I winced at the first word that came to mind, for I hated it most of all. But spat it out bitterly none-the-less. “... conflictions may be, I enter this contract with full consent. I beg your indulgence that this is enough for you for now.”

I was proud that I never broke eye contact with him as I spoke. His startlingly red eyes watched me unblinkingly, and even as I finished, he stared. Turning my words over in his head. I felt sweat beading at the base of my neck, but maintained his gaze. Stubbornly resisting the urge to turn away or drop my eyes from his.

“If I hear what you’re saying in regards to your people,” He returned finally, and I let out a little gust of air I didn’t know I had been holding, “Then I can hardly blame you for struggling to… accept our situation, such as it is.” He drummed his fingertips on the arm of his chair. “But you are sure? Once we move forward with this contract, there will be no turning back.”

I nodded without hesitation, and I saw his smirk return to the corners of his mouth. “I am sure.”

“You will be King Consort, then,” He replied, picking up his quill again, “As is the custom for my people.” He scribbled a few lines quickly before continuing. “Your authority will be more or less equal to mine, but the difference in title allows for differentiation when referring to us.” His long nose twitched as his smirk returned to its full strength. “Pronouns can be tricky in such situations.”

“...I can imagine” I said dryly, finally letting my gaze drop.

“And since you are sure, perhaps we should move on to the more domestic qualities of the contract, yes? Now, how many children?”

I blinked stupidly, my eyes jumping back up to him in surprise. “...Eh?”

“How many children?” His voice was light and cheery, and I saw the mischievous glint in his eyes that left me quite annoyed. “I’ve always wanted a large family, but I am flexible on the matter.”

“...You’re joking.”

“Hardly.” He twirled the quill again. “As King, I am expected to provide an heir. There are several options available to us, but it is best we make these decisions now. Just to be certain we are on the same page and have the same expectations. It avoids arguments down the line.”

I struggled to keep my composure, and saw his smirk grow by a few molars at the sight. “What… what are the options?”

“Well, we could adopt, of course.” He mused, tapping one long finger against his angular chin. “Or we could hire a surrogate.”

“Surrogate?” I echoed, dumb founded. I had never heard of such a term before.

He nodded, eyes shimmering with delight. “Yes! A female to carry our offspring. Typically of good stock; the screening process is quite vigorous. We can each lay with her and let the die be cast in whatever way it may land. Or, with your consent, I will impregnate her-”

“Wh-whichever.” I blurted quickly, feeling my face growing hot. I hated how easily he managed to keep me off balanced, and each slip of my composure left me feeling guiltier than the last and more determined to maintain it.

“Ah, but then there is of course the magical route.” He continued, almost gleefully ignoring my reaction to the less savory parts of the second option which had the blush rising to my cheekbones despite my efforts.

“The… the what?”

“The magical route.” He repeated, steepling his hands together with a grin. “A simple, temporary spell that allows one of us to impregnate the other and carry our progeny to term-”

“You’re making that up!” I snapped despite myself, feeling my face flush even more.

He pretended to look much more appalled than I was certain he was. “I would never! Producing an heir is a very important matter which I take with the utmost seriousness!”

I struggled again to return to the stoic face of a stately Prince I had perfected over the course of my life. But his words had my thoughts reeling, and I couldn’t help my mouth dropping open slightly. Looking pleased with himself, he stood, walking over to the cart of drinks.

“I am parched. Would you like something? Or I can send for tea if you prefer?”

I managed to close my mouth, staring at the seat he had vacated for a long moment. I heard the clinking of glass, and cleared my suddenly dry throat.

“...Brandy. If you have it.” I rasped, my voice strained.

His laughter was almost melodic, and I heard the continued clinks as he dolled out a second glass. “Excellent choice, my young Prince.” He purred, returning with both drinks in hand. “I see we are a perfect match on that front.”

I took the glass numbly, sniffing the amber liquid instinctually. I was surprised to find it seemed of higher quality, and sipped it experimentally. Grier took his seat once more, crossing one leg over the top of the other.

“Now, which method do you prefer?” He mused, taking a sip from his own glass.

I nearly choked on my second sip, and sputtered momentarily. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye to see his crooked grin. I shook my head, swallowing the burning liquid.

“...Umm, wh-whichever.” I almost winced at the improperness of my stuttering speech, gritting my teeth.

He raised one slender eyebrow, smirking. “Even the third? I hear it is quite the experience.”

I took another hurried sip of the brandy. “...Maybe not that one.”

He laughed again, and I felt my ears burning. I turned, focusing on the fire, watching the flames lick and pop. Trying to ignore the feeling of his eyes on me. Trying to distance myself from the idea of raising children of all things with this creature sat across from me. He’s just trying to get a rise from you, I told myself. Always, constantly. Poking and prodding. Trying to gain the upper hand in negotiations. Amused by my discomfort.

“We’ll write a ‘to be determined’ for now.” He declared, picking up the quill once more. “But we’ll discuss it again later.”

I snuck a peek at him while he wrote, studying him out the corner of my eye. His wild hair fell about his sharp features, and the way the light hit his green-grey skin it seemed almost warm to the eye. I found myself wondering at the thought of spending a life with him. Wondered what it would be like beyond this room. Beyond this evening. I took another steadying sip of brandy, pretending my hand wouldn’t be shaking if it hadn’t held the glass.

“How many then?” He pressed, glancing up at me. “I believe six is a good number. Even, but manageable. Yes?”

I looked down at the amber liquid in my hands. “I-I…” I dropped off, shaking my head, steadying my voice, “I had never thought about it.”

“Why ever not?” He quipped, dipping the tip to scribble another note.

I didn’t answer him, but felt my brow furrow. Of course, the real reason was because I had never expected to be able to choose. Had never expected to be married, and if I was, I would be grateful to be able to conceive at all. My marriage prospects had always been slim; the likelihood was of me being paired with a widowed partner whose late husband’s lands were in dispute, or an elderly monarch whose wealth would be our greatest asset. Whatever would best benefit the Kingdom. It didn’t matter the partner, not like my older brother’s, just what she would bring to the table. Therefore, planning children had simply never really been a thought of mine. And now that it was? I wasn’t sure what to think of it. Had no basis for what I wanted. Had no basis for what would be expected of me as a parent, nor how I would feel being so fully responsible for another life. My lips tightened, and I found myself at a loss for words again.

“Hmmm. Six it is then. But we’ll see where the tides take us when the time comes.” I almost sighed with relief that he let the matter go. A few more soft scratches. “Alright, lovers is next on my list.”

Again, I sputtered, nearly choking on the brandy halfway down my throat. “Lovers??”

He nodded, looking up at me with a coy twist on his thin lips. “Yes. Traditionally, human Kings take lovers I believe. But goblins tend to be monogamous in marriage, unless previously agreed before the ceremony. Do you wish to be allowed to take lovers?”

Again, it was simply not something I had ever considered. Nor had the foggiest notion of how to approach. Certainly it was not a concept boldly discussed in any capacity, regardless of the fact that it was common knowledge. High society dictated such things be carefully and politely ignored. Not discussed over a marriage contract. He waited, tapping his finger against the quill. Watching my face. I swore he was enjoying himself.

I shook my head. “I… I have no desire to…” I cleared my throat, then shook my head again.

He leaned forward, propping his chin on his slender fingers. Coy smirk playing about his lips. “You would remain completely faithful to me?” He purred, looking at me through his pale lashes. “I have no qualms allowing you to take lovers if it would make you more comfortable.”

I snorted faintly, burying it in my glass as I took another sip. As if anything about this conversation was likely to end with me being comfortable. The drink was already almost gone, and I could feel its effects curling tenderly about my insides. Warming my stomach, tickling the edges of my mind. I pretended it was the brandy making my cheekbones and neck flush, rather than the conversation. It was hard to separate the contract from myself when the bastard kept asking such personal questions.

“Monogamous.” I muttered finally, keeping my gaze fixed on my lap, even though it made no sense. My point was clear. After all, if I was going to do this marriage thing, I was going to do it right. Consign myself to my misery. And certainly not give this man any further ammunition against me in the future. Better to go it alone, as I always had.

His faint chuckle had me stiffening, but I pushed aside my discomfort. Reminding myself what this was all for. His quill scratched audibly across the page.

“Alright then, living quarters. Combined or separate?”

I nearly groaned. Another personal question? I ran my thumb over the lip of my glass. “Why is it necessary for that to be in the contract?” I grumbled, barely managing to conceal my irritation with his prying.

He tsked me, taking a deep sip of his own drink before flicking the feather of the quill at me pointedly. “We are embarking on a cross-cultural experiment, my young Prince. It is important all things be discussed. To avoid undue arguments and discontent down the line. No matter how trivial it may seem now.”

I almost snorted again but shook my head instead. “Kings and Queens traditionally have separate quarters.” I mumbled distantly. Would that notion matter in this instance?

“Really?” Breathed Grier, returning the quill to the inkwell and picking up his glass again. “I had heard such, but believed it more a formality than a common practice. How are conjugal visits managed?”

I glanced up at him, trying to discern if he was prying again. Trying to raise my ire. But he seemed genuinely curious, his red eyes sparkling in the firelight. I sighed deeply, raising one hand and rubbing at my brow.

“The Queen usually visits the King’s chambers regularly, until she becomes pregnant.”

“And after?”

I shrugged, raking my brain to remember how it had been between my own parents. “... Once an heir is produced, the visits are… less regular…” Likely because they were merely duty and obligation before. And once the coupling had produced a child? The King could return to his whores and the Queen to whatever her fancies.

He ran his finger over his lip, leaning back in his chair. “How absolutely odd. No wonder your people are so sexually repressed. You never see one another.”

Perhaps it was the now empty glass in my hand. Perhaps it was the fatigue from the long journey, or the emotional stress from the last few hours. But his words made me snort loudly, my facade of stoic calm dropping long enough to let a few short, soft laughs peter from my mouth.

When I looked over at him, he looked surprised. His eyes were wide, his slender brows high. My laughter faded, and I cleared my throat quickly, straightening.

“My apologies, Your Majesty, that was-”

“Please,” He stopped me again, reaching out one hand, “Just Grier. No ’Your Majesty’. And do not apologize.” He grinned, and for the first time, it seemed actually genuine rather than teasing or coy. “I am glad to see you are at least capable of laughter… Though I have yet to see you smile.” His smirk returned, and his eyes became playful. “I am not certain you know how.”

I rolled my eyes slightly, and a small scowl came over my lips. But I found myself not as annoyed as I had been at his teasing. I heard him stand, and his hand gently reached out and took my glass. I felt my heart skip a beat, though I berated myself for the foolishness as he returned to the cart with both.

He held my gaze for a moment too long as he passed me back my refilled glass, and I felt heat creeping up my neck. But I was careful to keep my face a careful mask of stoic indifference. It had been foolish of me to allow him to gain the upper hand thus far in negotiations. To let him put me constantly on edge with trivial questions that had nothing to do with the long term prosperity for my people. I was determined not to allow it to happen again.

Grier took his seat once more, swirling the brandy in his glass and taking a slow sip. Still, he watched me with those startling scarlet eyes. I felt my lips curving into a slight frown, but waited. As King, he should always be the one to speak first. It was not my place to address him unless I was first addressed. Perhaps he knew this, which is why he declined to speak. Instead fixing me with his unnerving gaze. Or, another part of me reasoned, perhaps he did not. Perhaps goblins did not have this custom, and he was waiting for me to speak first. As the guest. In which case, it was disrespectful for me not to speak.

I was still torn, debating which line of etiquette we were following, when he leaned forward in his chair and rested his elbows on his knees. My eyes flicked back to him at the movement, the only hint to my surprise.

“I find I am curious about you, Prince Nikostratus,” He said, sly smirk still dancing about his lips, “In truth, I did not expect you to agree to such an arrangement as this. And when you did, I was certain I would be able to call your bluff quickly.” My grip on my glass tightened, but I remained otherwise unmoved outwardly. “And if we are being completely honest, which I believe we should be, I originally proposed it to force you to trade your little sister for the sake of your own comfort and pride.”

I felt a chill run down my spine at his words, and my eyes narrowed sharply. “My sister?”

His expression faltered at the iciness of my tone, and even his smile shrank a few inches. The goblin quickly raised one hand. “Not for any untoward reason, I can assure you. More to gauge who you are as a person.”

I considered him, my gaze still chilled. A sinking feeling had grabbed hold of my nerves and dragged down the sensation from my fingertips with it. Leaving a tingling numbness slowly spreading through my body.

“Then you do not intend to keep this contract, Your Majesty?”

He chuckled nervously, finally dropping those scarlet eyes in the face of my cold, growing rage. “I feel we have regressed-”

“On the contrary,” I interrupted, eager to exploit his sudden off balanceness as he had so readily exploited mine, “I feel we have finally come to the end.” I started to stand, reaching out to place my glass on the table. “If you are quite done wasting my time, Your Majesty, I will return when you are ready to discuss a real contract for peace, rather than whatever sham you have attempted to ply onto me thus far.”

“This was not any kind of deception-” He jumped to his feet as I stood, quickly skirting over as if to block my path. “Your Highness, please-” I moved to step around him “-Prince Nikostratus!”

I froze, then looked down at him, his hand firmly clamped on my arm. His pronounced brow was knotted, his scarlet eyes narrowed. I found his grip surprisingly strong, despite his diminutive stature. The goblin was about a foot shorter than me, but it was a fact easily forgettable considering the square of his shoulders and the determined way he set his angular jaw.

We stayed like that for a breath, staring at each other. I fixed the King with as cold a glare as I could manage, and I saw him searching my face for a long, quiet moment. I wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but I was careful to keep up my stoney visage to be sure he would never find it.

“I have spoken too brashly,” He interjected finally, his voice soft, “And have thus insulted you… Which was far from my intent.” He gestured with his other hand, back to the arm chairs. “Please, Your Highness, allow me a moment to explain myself.”

I glanced back over my shoulder at the chairs, and my lips pinched tighter together in displeasure at the idea of returning. Disgust rolled in my gut, and I felt bile rising in my throat. But I worked hard to cool my anger. Reminding myself that whatever monster I was dealing with, I had to best him at his game. For everything I had left behind, and for everything that may yet lay before me. And perhaps, for the first time since we had met, I had him on the defense. It might be best to keep him there.

So I gave him a curt nod. “As you wish, Your Majesty.” I agreed stiffly.

He dropped his hand, relief flooding his features. I considered that for a moment as he magnanimously extended his arm. Leading the way back to the armchairs. I stood before mine, but did not sit, instead choosing to cross my arms over my chest. I had been told, due to the athletic tone of my body, that this was a rather imposing gesture on my part. Morgana had once told me it made my arms, chest, and shoulders look twice as big. My advisors had dryly followed up by telling me to never do so, as it hardly left the impression of a stately Prince. More, they said, a warmongering savage. But at that moment, I didn’t care. I wanted to make the goblin King feel small. I wanted him to be fearful and on edge.

I saw his eyes running me up and down, saw his narrow eyebrows twitch. He declined to sit as well, instead choosing to stand and face me with his three fingered hands lightly on his hips.

“When talk of peace between our two Kingdoms first arose,” he began, “I was the one who proposed a union through marriage. I had thought it a sign. My advisors have long been pressing the idea of my marriage, but I had always been hesitant. After all,” He smirked slightly here, “You only get married once.” He straightened, his smirk becoming a frown, “But I was told that your sister would be my prospective partner, as the King’s only daughter. The prospect of marrying a child, for any reason, left me ill at the thought.” He shifted, tucking his hands against the small of his back. “So when I learned of your lack of interest in the fairer sex,” He continued, and I stiffened slightly at the implications, “I was relieved. You are an adult, after all, only a few years my junior, able to consent to the marriage of your own free will. You would understand what the arrangement would entail, and my conscience would rest easy knowing it was a consensual contract.” The shadow of his smirk returned to the corners of his mouth. “Imagine my surprise when I learned that your people would take a direct proposal of this nature as an outright insult! That they would rather I marry a child than a Prince.”

“And yet, Your Majesty, you chose to lay the insult upon me nevertheless.” I mused, my voice still cold. My anger still pounding in my breast.

He raised his hands defensively. “I did not plan to pursue that course of action. Not until I learned it was you yourself who would be coming to the peace negotiations did I see the opportunity to even do so.” He considered me slyly. “I had heard tales of your family, of your pride and snobbery,” He raised his hands again as my eyes flashed, but his voice remained light and teasing, “Though I much preferred an arranged marriage with you, I had assumed I would not find you an appealing match in the least.”

“Your Majesty, if you intend to continue this line of-”

“I put you to a test,” He interrupted, returning his hands to the small of his back, eyes dancing, “It was childish, perhaps, and I will honestly say, I did fully expect you to fail. I proposed the marriage to your sister, to see if you would agree to such an outrageous pairing. Then I offered you an alternative.”

I considered him quietly, mulling over his words. I thought about speaking then, in the silence he let settle about us. But I decided to wait to see if he had more to say. Though it seemed less a defense of his behavior thus far and more of a confession. So I waited, eyes slightly narrowed, arms still crossed over my chest.

“... So you see, I expected you to offer your sister to me, rather than risk your own image and honor. As I said before.” He paused briefly, and his head cocked ever so slightly to the side. “... But you surprised me.”

I gritted my teeth, scowling at him. “I am afraid, Your Majesty, that your so-called honesty has only confirmed my understanding that you were simply stringing me along. Intending to dishonor and embarrass me without any intent of-”

“I have every intent-” He interrupted me again “-Of marrying you. I always have.”

That made my breath catch in my throat, and my composure slipped ever so slightly around my eyes as they widened. I quickly reset my features, swallowing the lump forming in my throat.

He watched quietly, then gestured again to the chair. “Please, let us return to our negotiations. If we can move past this strife… For the good of our people, if nothing else.”

I hesitated, watching him sit as if the matter had been settled. There was still a question burning on my lips, but I was not certain I could continue on with any semblance of a level head if I knew the answer. For that reason, I chose not to ask it; not yet at least. I gritted my teeth again, studying him as he waited patiently, gazing up at me with those scarlet eyes.

“Your Majesty, If I find this is some long winded prank-”

“It is not.” He promised, then smiled his coy, teasing smile. “And please call me Grier, I beg of you. I cannot suffer the titles and formalities much longer than I absolutely must.”

I glanced back at the waiting armchair, at the abandoned glass of brandy. “What assurance do I have that it is not?”

Grier lifted one long, slender finger, tapping his lips thoughtfully. “We shall put it in the document, if it would set your mind at ease.” He declared, reaching out and picking up the quill once more. “Should it be discovered that either party entered this marriage contract under false pretenses, it shall immediately become null and void, and the offending party shall secede to the ruling authority of the other.” He ended the sentence on the page with a fancy flourish of the quill tip, and raised one brow at me. “Is that satisfactory?”

I resisted the urge to give him an un-princely grumble, and settled for a scowl instead. But I did return to my seat, slowly, stiffly, and after a moment reached for my glass.

“I believe we should discuss the ceremony itself.” He proposed tentatively, watching me through his pale lashes as he took another sip of his own brandy. “To be certain it is official and legally binding for both species.”

I swallowed my sigh, and gave a small nod. “As you wish.”

The goblin did not continue right away, cocking his head to the side again and studying me as he took a deep, slow sip of his drink. I waited, rolling my own glass distractedly against my palms. It was smooth, and cool to the touch. Almost as soothing as the liquid it held.

“But perhaps we can leave that for a later date.” I glanced over at him, and he flashed me a charming smile of pointed teeth. “I would like to hear what additions to the contract you would like to discuss first.”

I took a sip of the brandy, nodding much more resolutely. “Very well. The taxes levied on the people-”

He waved his hand, cutting me off. “No, no.” He sat forward in his chair. “Let the understudies and scribes deal with such tedious ticks. We will review them before the formal signing, but need not discuss the specifics ourselves.”

I frowned. “I beg your pardon, I thought you wished to discuss my additions…. What other addendum would you mean to discuss?”

Grier sighed deeply, and his lips twitched with amusement. “Those of a more personal nature, of course.” He swirled his brandy with a deft wrist. “We discussed those issues I felt might arise through the course of our marriage; children, lovers, living arrangements. You must have your own expectations for this union as well. Something to put in ink.”

I stiffened, and my gaze snapped down to the drink in my hands. “... I do not.”

He scoffed, waving his hand again. “Come now, there must be something. Summer castles, hunting trips, gifts, anniversaries, retirement plans. Perhaps religious beliefs? Dietary requirements?” I shook my head, and he rolled his eyes teasingly. “You must have some thoughts or plans for the remainder of your life.”

I took another sip of the brandy, letting it sit in my mouth for a moment before slowly swallowing it. “... I have no expectations.”

That set a deafening silence upon the cluttered room, and we sat in it for an extended period. Grier watched me, and I watched the flames flickering in the fireplace. Keeping my stoney expression flat and void. I forced all other thoughts from my mind to keep them from my face. As I had been taught and perfected through a lifetime of necessity.

“... It is late.” The goblin replied finally, clearing his throat and shuffling the parchment on his lap. “Undoubtedly it has been a long day. If you are agreeable, I will take you to our guest quarters for the evening so you may rest.”

I looked at the papers he placed upon the marble table. “The contract-”

“Will be there in the morning, when we are both more rested and fresh.” He finished, tossing his head back to drain the last of his glass and standing.

I followed suit, brushing my hands down my abdomen to smooth the starchy fabric there. He gestured to me as he moved towards the door, and the weariness of the day dragged at my shoulders. I found I had not the strength to argue further, and simply fell in step behind him as he pulled open the grand door and stepped back out into the hall.

I had never had a head for floorplans or layouts, and the twists and turns he led me down quickly became jumbled in my tired mind. Give me a war field with troops and battalions and I could coordinate and execute the most stunning and creative of maneuvers. Place me in a castle hall and give me directions to the kitchen and I would get lost. So I stayed at his mercy, allowing him to lead me deeper into his underground castle until we came before a set of old wooden doors.

“Here we are.” He exclaimed, halting and turning to face me. I stopped short to avoid running into his smaller frame. Sharp teeth grinned up at me. “You should find everything you need here. And I shall have an attendant at the door, should you find you require anything additional.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty-” I noticed his brow twitch slightly at the title, and I quickly clamped my mouth shut over the last syllable.

I saw him hesitate, glancing at the door, then back to me. I sensed there was more, and waited patiently. Even though my palms itched to open the door and have the peace of my own company. Even though my spine ached from holding so straight and perfect for so many long hours. I was well versed in patience; in serving the will of another at the expense of my own. So I waited.

“I would request your presence for breakfast.” He said, cupping his hands behind his back. “... Socially. For the pleasure of your company and to get to know you better, if you are willing.” Now it was my turn to hesitate, my breath catching in my throat. “You may decline, if you wish.” He added quickly. “I do not mind sending your meal to your rooms, then we may speak later to complete the final details of the marriage contract.”

My besotted mind could not quite fathom the full extent of the offer, and I belittled a sigh that managed to sneak out with a soft gust from my nose. My lips pursed, I nodded to the Goblin King, feeling the hairs on the back of my neck prickle even as I did.

“Of course, Your-.... Ehm…” I cleared my throat, then looked down at the floor. “Of course… Grier.”

His name tasted strange on my tongue, and felt wrong to say. But the way he beamed up at me with delight made heat scratch at the edge of my collar. I shifted my weight slightly, glancing back at the stone floor.

“Excellent! I will see you in the morning then, Prince Nikostratus.”

...

UPDATE: Part two HERE

#mxm #oc #Royal Flush #monster x human #monster lover #monster boyfriend #monster husband #slow burn #two kings #monster romance #terato #exophilia #goblin #goblin lover #goblin boyfriend #goblin husband #arranged marriage #monster royalty

97 notes · View notes

famouskittychild · 3 years

Text

Dragon’s Whiskers

Summary: A little fluff piece about Fennec and Boba and their friendship. Fennec is going through a rough patch and Boba tries to help. Contains candy and some spice.

Warnings: some angst, mentions of trauma, mentions of injury; gentle prank; one instance of a non-romantic kiss.

Rating: PG

Word count: 2340

Ao3 link

Author’s note: This is the very first fanfic I published here. Hope you like it!

When Fett had barged into her office in the middle of the night, and told her to either go to sleep or else tell him what to do to make her feel a little better, Fennec’s first thought was to drag his armoured butt up to the top of the communications tower and throw him off of it. Pretzel had padded in on soft paws behind Fett, following him through the door he had left open. She joined the other two grumpy felines on their pillows staring at the two humans for still being up instead of letting them sleep. All Fennec had wanted to do was to go back to burying herself in account books and ship logs and other details of the job and take her mind off everything else.

“You are the last person I need help from” she had told him, ready for their next round of arguments, knowing it was usually him who lost his patience first. She must have been really tired because this time he had kept up with her.

“Great, you have a list of more usable people. Name some.” He had plopped down onto her reading chair, his lap promptly claimed by one of the ‘cats, than stared at her like she was on a list too; one for problems to be solved. “Nothing? Than how about, just going away from this all? Take a few days off. Visit a spa, or a forest, or a racecourse.”

She had sighed and hoped he'd still go away if she was just abrasive enough, but he had stood his ground. He had argued, he had asked; he had showed her planets to visit and speeder advertisements and had offered contacts for weapons upgrade specialists. It had seemed like he had tried to think of anything that might interest her and would cheer her up a little. Even the karking ‘cats had been on his side, taking turns at rubbing up to her legs and begging to be allowed onto her lap and be petted.

“Or I can just get you a blaster bolt on stun setting. That’d make sure you sleep a couple hours” he threw his hands up in the end, frustrated. Even that wouldn’t have helped. Knocked out cold wasn’t the same as a good night’s rest, and that was the thing Fennec needed the most. Her old problems with sleep were slowly creeping up on her in the past few months. Then last week happened, and she broke down in a way she hadn’t had in a long time. No wonder Fett had been somewhat worried about her. In the end, more embarrassed for making him worry over her and for keeping him from resting than actually believing it would help much, she had given up and gave him the name of a planet.

All in all it turned out to be a great day. It was high time Fennec visited her home planet, and with all of the mess that went down a week prior and made her heart clench with grief at random times, it proved Fett right in being a welcome break from it all. Seeing the people who were so similar to her own family, hearing the familiar dialect and words particular to her homeworld - it made her remember where she came from. Being reminded of her roots helped to anchor herself again, something she needed in the storm that was her life lately. She hoped it will help her sleep better too.

She didn’t wanted to go as herself though. She didn’t wanted for anyone to recognize her, or know her as she was now, so they had put on hooded cloaks over their usual attires, Fett even leaving behind his helmet on the ship. They had arrived early morning and visited a few places: the Memorial of Ancestors, one of the schools she went to and another she would’ve loved to attend but never got to. Then they went over to the theatre district, watched a street performance, and even seen some dancers and musician at a park there.

They finished the day off by walking around the Old Market. They started there with a late lunch and than spent a few hours wandering around at a leisurely pace, looking at all the different goods on offer and the people milling about. She stopped to buy a few things here and there: a comb, a scarf, some tea, and then some more tea. They debated about getting some treats for the furballs than decided they were spoilt enough already. They had made a wide circle around the rows of stalls with their rainbow of canopies and were on their way back towards the area set aside for spaceships, as the town lacked a proper spaceport. The last things she picked up were a stack of flat boxes at the handmade-candy stall named The Dragon’s Beard. She had put in her order earlier, knowing the crafters needed time to make the wide selection she wanted. And selection they had. Sweet candies of all kind, with syrups and berries and milks; savoury ones with cashews and nuts, spicy with peppers and roots and pickles. She ordered enough to bring back to let everyone have at least a taste of all the different types. Fett looked at the pile of boxes with uncertainty.

“There should be enough sweets there to give a sugar rush to everyone back home” he commented as she tucked the colourful boxes under the arm that didn’t already had a satchel on it with the rest of her finds. “Including even the droids. And the four-legged beasts.”

“Mmm, don’t worry.” It took her a bit to balance all her stuff, then they started to walk down the row towards their ship. “And not all of them are sweet. Want a taste now? Because I do.”

She let him take the topmost, red box from under her arm, one with non-sweets. He fumbled with the knot on the string that held the lid on, and she almost asked if they should stop walking when he managed to undo it. He offered them to her first, and she took a green one - her favourite. He got himself a red one that she knew had ginger in it.

“It’s nice” he said, and she felt that doesn't really sums up the truth. Although, he didn’t have the nostalgia that she had for the candies, nor did he pick a particularly strong flavour. She just nodded, enjoying the numbing spiciness in her mouth.

Fennec kept an eye on him, knowing he will pick out the spiciest one of the box sooner or later. It was the one she had started with, the green one; a colour he tended to gravitate towards, though not today as it seemed. They were on their third round of the colourful savoury treats and almost back to the ship. She knew he had found it when he abruptly stopped and grunted, then twisted away, trying to hide his face from her. She felt laughter building in her chest, something she haven’t felt in a long time.

Soon he gave up and coughed, and probably would’ve cursed if he could. Her laughter was still far from reaching the surface but her smile was wider than it had been in a good while.

“I see you found the Dragon’s Whisker.” He coughed again as an answer and covered his face, eyes watering, willing the pain to go away. Dragon’s Whisker pepper was strong even for someone who was used to very spicy food like her, and he was way less so. “It will pass soon, it’s not the lingering-in-your-throat type.”

After a few moments he could open his eyes again, and he stared darts at her. It just made her smile even wider. Then he stepped closer to her, head tilted to the side, and she only had a fraction of a second to think “is he going to kiss me?!” before he did just that, pulling her close with a hand behind her head and pressing his lips firmly on hers.

“Spicy, eh?” he asked as he withdrew. A giggle had bubbled up and burst out of her while they stepped apart. Her lips tingled slightly where they were touched by his, and for a few moments the tingling sharpened almost into pain before fading again. It was worth it. All of it.

Fennec left the boxes and her satchel on the lower deck before climbing through to the cockpit behind him. Fett took the co-pilot's chair that was usually hers, and looked at her like a loth-cat that had stepped into water, accusing and indignant at their misfortune at the same time. She was almost sorry for him, but it was just all too funny.

She piloted the ship out of the atmosphere and he supplied the data for the hyperspace jump. As soon as the automation took over, he got up to go to the lower level. She had planned on staying where she was and giving him some room after her prank, but he turned back from the top of the ladder.

“Do you have something for this?” He asked, and her face must have showed her momentary confusion because he elaborated. “For the pepper. I still feel like my mouth is burning.”

Maybe his avoidance of spicy food that she observed wasn’t just a personal preference. With his injuries, he might have been less tolerant to pain caused by chemicals affecting surfaces of his body. Not to mention it might have brought up bad memories. Feeling a bit guilty, she nodded quickly and got out of her seat.

Once on the lower level, she rummaged around in the container for emergency rations. She always kept a box of powdered milk around especially for occasions like this. She dissolved a portion in a glass with less water than normal to make the milk thicker and made him start to sip it slowly before apologizing. He waved her concern away.

“I’m fine, Fenn, really. I’m just not used to living on your volume of spiciness.” He smirked at her, and she knew him well enough to know they were all right. The smile came easier now, and to show she wasn’t sorry that much, she punched him lightly on the shoulder in a fist-bumpy way. It made him pretend to be hurt there too.

“Thanks for the day off. I needed it” She meant it, even if just right then she suddenly couldn’t look at him. In the darkness of the ship and away from the lively crowds, back on their way to the everydays, the grief had came back for a moment and tried to sink it’s claws back into her. But it was easier to resist it and the heavy cloud passed as fast as it had come. She leaned back in her chair with a sigh and saw from the corner of her eye as Fett nodded and sipped his milk. It made her laugh again.

He sighed dramatically.

“Yes, yes, mighty Boba Fett drinking his milk like a good boy. That’s another notch on your victory belt, isn’t it Shand?” He pretended to be grumpy about it, and she shamelessly grinned. Than he pointed at the pile of unopened boxes.

“Are you planning on feeding me those too, or will you just keep them all for yourself now that I proved I can’t handle them?”

She shook her head.

“No, I got those for the staff.”

“You’re evil” he commented fondly. She shot him a look of mock offence.

“Only the red boxes are spicy, the others are sweets.”

Now it was his turn to look indignantly. “You’re telling this to me now?!” He got up and picked out one of the pastel boxes. She started to object.

“Those are not for you!”

He was already fumbling with the knot on the string tied around the box. He looked up at her, face as innocent as he could manage.

“I’m just collecting the import taxes.”

She gave up and laughed. “Two pieces only! Or there wont be enough for everyone.”

“You calculated that, right?”

She didn’t, but he could think that; she just wanted to be contrarian to him. He finished undoing the knot and took a moment to survey the contents. Than he looked at her, eyes drawn into slits, suddenly suspicious. “Are these really sweets, or are you pulling my leg again?”

“They are sweet. Promise. Can you smell the powdered sugar? The others had starch on them.”

“You know my nose is mostly useless.” She did know, but these had so much sugar on them, she could smell them from where she was sitting. He took out a reddish piece and sniffed it. “Yes, sugar. I should’ve sniffed the others too, the lack of it might’ve given them away.”

He popped the sweet into his mouth and closed his eyes as it was dissolving on his tongue. She let him enjoy the flavour for a moment before answering.

“It would have, but it wouldn’t have mattered. I have mentioned that not all of them were sweet, remember? I thought you would disregard that and you did. Because I also told you they were candy and you took my word on that. Then you picked the ones with ginger and almonds, and those were kind of sweet, so nothing prepared you for the Dragon’s Whiskers. The thing is,” she waited for him to turn his face towards her again before explaining with a smirk, “as long as they are bite sized and considered a snack, we use the word candy. Local quirk. Sweet ones, savoury ones, spicy ones, the mix of those - here, they are all called candy.”

“You” he jabbed a finger towards her “are an evil woman.”

He took his second candy and closed the lid, watching her smile and shrug at him. It’s been a good day to be evil like that.

#star wars fanfiction #boba fett #fennec shand #star wars fluff #mywriting #my first fanfic #feedback is welcome #my writing

6 notes · View notes