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taeescript · 3 years

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29+1 (Part Three - Finale)

𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰: In which Seokjin is the Devil from The Devil Wears Prada, Taehyung is your work Jesus and Jimin is your handsome successful brother.

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: seokjin x reader (taehyung x reader?!?!)

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢: slice of life; ceo!seokjin (fluff & definite smut)

𝔴𝔠: 10.7k

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: 18+ only. descriptions of sex (are you really that surprised after the last part?): including rejected then unrejected condom use (practice safe kids), possible more unprotected drunk sex, one night stands, lots more mentions of sex, slight unrequited love, more sexts, and Seokjin being a downright meanie (redemption arc?!)

𝔞/𝔫: each part just gets longer - sorrynotsorry. but here is the finale. life gets messy, but we only ever really learn from failures, right? feedback and comments are forever welcomed. as always, enjoy (:

part one | part two

The two of you fumble in the darkness into the room. The majority of guests have since returned home, but there is still loud music and the rhythms of its bass punctuating through the ceiling into the floorboards of the upstairs.

You had initially suggested any of the guest rooms but Seokjin had said that if there was going to be sex, it would be done in Junho’s bedroom where the bed is the softest and the pillows the fluffiest.

After a brief and awkward encounter with the security guard who had rejected the two of you away from the staircase leading upstairs, Seokjin had led you up the back entrance where only the occupants of the house could navigate to.

“No, fuck this is weird. Junho is going to sleep here tonight,” Seokjin suddenly says.

Your fingers fumble to undo the buttons of his shirt, but it has been tucked in so tightly it now hangs halfway undone.

“He’s your best friend. He’s probably heard you fucking through the walls when you were university roomies. Can you undo your own buckle? It’s making your shirt get caught,” you say hastily.

The door slams shut behind you, as he pushes you roughly against it. His kisses are heated, making you claw at his bareback as he works on your request.

“Where’s the – ”

“Zipper’s on the side,” you manage to rasp out. The knot in your abdomen tightens when your dress comes loose and falls to the ground.

You do not know how the two of you make it onto the bed. The room swirls with you as he throws you onto the sheets.

From the light casted in through the windows, you find yourself dwarfed by the silhouette of his broad shoulders and muscular torso. You scoot back to make room for him on the bed, the only thought overwhelming your mind is the need to feel this man on you.

He growls, hitting his shin on the jutting edge of the bed. He swears quite loudly (and foully), but it doesn’t stop him from advancing, eyes lusting over the rise and fall of your breasts and the glisten between your legs.

“Fuck,” he says again, coming onto you with a ferocity of an animal in heat. He pins your arms above your head and begins to lower himself down.

“Wait!” you suddenly scream. It makes him balk in his advance. “You might have good genes, but I’m not risky any bratty children even if my eggs are shriveling up by the second.”

He brings his hips closer to you once again.

“Seokjin! Protection? Condom?”

His eyes scan the room wildly. “It’s fine. I don’t want any of your bratty children either,” he brushes aside your concern.

You sit up. “Fuck no. How am I sure that you’re not going to pass on something weird to me? We’re using one.”

He pulls open the drawer next to the bed but comes up empty handed.

“You don’t have one,” you say when it hits you, “Mr. I’m-Prepared-For-Anything was not prepared for this.”

You see him hunker down in the slightest, bringing a hand in front.

“I don’t get how I’m supposed to anticipate when I have sex. But for your information, I do. It’s just the one I have might be old and ineffective.”

Laughing, you push him onto the bed and reach down to where your small purse had been discarded for the night. You wonder if he has comprehended the impact on your sexual drive when telling you that he carries old condoms.

The deep moan escapes from him before he can stop it. Your hand holds his shaft as you slip the protective latex over it. Then before he can say anything more, you lower yourself onto him.

...

Drunk sex can be fun, but for the most part, it is mostly just downright messy.

You hope he does not remember when you had been moving just a little too roughly, ended up sitting on him at an awkward angle and causing him to yelp in pain. You also hope that it had been your imagination in throwing up just a little bit when he had his dick shoved up your mouth.

Right now, however, is pure bliss.

Your fist tightens your hold on his hair and the other hand pushes against the headboard of the bed. Your panting increases as you continue to gyrate against his lips and tongue, his nose burying itself and hitting the bud every so often.

“Oh my god,” you breathe, buckling when he grips your ass.

You have lost track of time. You don’t care if Junho doesn’t make it to his bedroom tonight. All you know is that twenty minutes ago you had tried to fall asleep only to find Seokjin nibbling your ear and hands slipping beneath your pubic line. Not to mention the hardening of his boner against your back.

“Oh god,” you breathe again. The thought of the aforementioned sends you into a deeper lust.

You are torn out from your thoughts when you notice that he is saying something at the moment. Looking down at him, your heart skips a beat in seeing the mess you have made on his face.

The air is sickly with the scent of alcohol mixed with your perfume and his cologne.

“I want to fuck you,” he is saying in nearly a moan, “I need to fuck you.”

He removes himself from under you. On his knees behind you, he pulls your hips towards him and your face falls onto the sweat soaked pillowcase. He is not gentle when widening your stance so he can enter from behind. A hand is firmly pushing on the crook of your back, and the silent ‘o’ of your face reflecting back upon the mirror over the bed sends a painful spasm down. His erection grows impossibly bigger.

He moves at a merciless pace, sending waves of pleasure throughout your entire body and the room fills with lewd sounds of skin slapping and sucking as you take in the length of his shaft. Reaching around so that he can only stretch your walls further and ram into you deeper, his fingers circle your clit to hit it in a way that brings tears into your eyes at the stimulation. He is content when a line of profanities mingled with his name stream out from your mouth.

“Come for me, baby girl. Come for daddy.”

Your words hitch in your throat upon hearing his command. With all your will, you push yourself away from him and turn to face him.

His chest glistens as he kneels erect in front of you. The thoughts that swirl around in your mind right now; the things that you want for him to do; the things that you want to do. The things you are willing to beg to do.

“Let’s get this straight. First things first, I am not your baby girl,” you say, bringing yourself up to your knees. His lips are swollen and he does not hide the way his eyes rake over every inch of your body as you are before him.

“Secondly,” You grab him and pull him down with you so that your back hits the bed first. “You’re going to fuck me like this.”

Your fingers are coated in your arousal when you guide him so that he slides his entire girth between your folds. You watch as his tongue flicks out and swirls around two of your digits before he gorges them to the knuckles. The sound he makes at this moment sends you hurtling towards the edge.

“And third,” you stop yourself short, biting onto his shoulder while he begins to thrust into you again. “You’re going to come first, Daddy.”

You cannot prepare yourself for the impact. He brings your legs above his shoulders, moving at a pace and depth that you did not think he was possible of until now. Your nails rip into the skin of his back, your chanting of his name like a prayer for him to keep going.

He feels you shaking beneath him, and god, you are so incredibly sexy even with your hair plastered across your forehead. He knows that you are about to tip over but he cannot disobey your order. You mewl in displeasure when he stops, his head in you just far enough to stretch the beginnings of your walls.

“Me first, right?” His eyes do not leave your face. Anther few inches deeper.

You meet him with an angry kiss, grasping for him. He slides the entirety of himself in, and the muscles of his glutes tense at the impact. Letting him ride until he has reaches his high, you bring him even closer to you as you feel his warmth spread through you. He dips down, cleaning you with his tongue, and his lips do not leave yours until you have released yourself over the curling of his fingers.

The both of you are panting heavily as you lay side by side on the king-sized mattress with its silk sheets and lavish satiny blanket. There are unceremoniously dumped rubbers on the floor. You pull the sheets over yourself to cover the stark nakedness you feel, and you inhale sharply at the realization that indeed, you just had sex with your boss.

You hiccup, and a loud burp erupts from you filled with the aftertaste of high-end liquour. You giggle, still ever so slightly inebriated from the events of the night.

“You’d better not be this drunk next weekend,” Seokjin says from beside you. He takes a corner of the sheets and covers himself as well. Even his voice electrifies you. You have to hold your breath for a moment to will yourself to not crawl back closer to him.

“Don’t worry. This is why we did this dry run,” you reassure him.

The house has been quiet for a while and somewhere in the distance, you hear the chime of a bell. It indicates that it is very well past midnight at this point. “I really hope that Junho doesn’t sleep in here tonight,” you say, still staring at the ceiling.

“I texted him,” is Seokjin’s reply.

You turn your head and look at him, face stoic. He returns with a look of his own, the dark pupils of his eyes only beginning to ease the previous hunger. Your heart does a painful leap, and you return your gaze back upon the ceiling.

“Did you have a condom on?”

There is no response. You see that his eyes are closed and there is a gentle rhythmic movement of his chest.

You turn your back to Seokjin’s sleeping form and do not wake from your slumber until early the next morning.

Well, shit.

...

It is the day before the Silver Gala. Taehyung had asked you if you wanted to grab dinner with him. You agreed, and went home first to freshen up before meeting him at the restaurant as he had to stay later at the office to finish up some work.

You hadn’t known exactly what to expect on the Monday when you returned to work. The following day after the whole escapade (ahem sexcapade), you had met with Jimin and Taehyung as previously planned. Neither commented on your choice to wear a scarf despite the humid summer weather. Brunch had been pleasant enough, but your mind had been distant throughout the entire afternoon.

You had felt guilty lying to your own brother when asked how your night out had been, and since Taehyung had not brought it up, you had chosen not to speak to him about it either. And that desperately killed you because you had discovered that you did not like keeping secrets from him. You liked being able to talk to him about anything and everything on your mind.

When you dropped Jimin off at the airport a few days after brunch, he had made a small comment about how he’s glad you’ve found someone to talk to. He had been worried that his little sister would be alone throughout her internship. You had reassured him that you are more than capable of handling yourself, but thank him for his concern nonetheless. You even reassure that you have only about a two and a half weeks left of this work contract, and that you may just decide to return home for a while. He had given you a much longer hug than anticipated, then said, “Good people are hard to come by.” You had asked him what he meant by that but all you received was a cryptic smile.

The days had continued to roll by uneventfully. No longer did you have lunch meetings with your boss. Not that you had minded, considering the pile of work that seems to be growing on your desk. And the minor fact that whenever you looked at your boss all you could see was his naked sweaty body.

You have noticed, however, that he has been just a little bit kinder to you. He is a little more courteous; you catch a small “thank you” one morning when you deliver his coffee. You even contemplate on not submitting the Starbucks receipt for reimbursement as a small gesture of gratitude to him for taking care of you (in more ways than one) that night.

All in all, things had been running fine.

Okay, okay. You may have omitted one big thing; let’s do a tiny bit of a rewind.

To begin, your thoughts on the situation are completely valid. The two of you had been consenting adults. Sure, some alcohol may have been involved, but when you break it down, the two of you had an itch that only the other could have satisfied that night. Nothing wrong with that.

So why the night after meeting Jimin and Taehyung in the morning for lunch had you taken a photo exposing more than just your toes. Of course, you hadn’t sent it (you’re not trying that desperately to ruin your own life), but it sits in your gallery a button away from flying.

It is this photo that you stare at while sitting on the toilet, minutes away from leaving the house. Your fingers hover over the trash can icon. You had to admit to yourself that you looked good. The red frilly garter set that sat at the back of your lingerie drawer had not been used since…well, it just hadn’t been used. But seeing yourself all dolled up made you feel sexy and extremely confidant.

“Just delete it,” you whisper into the air. “Why are you keeping it anyways if you’re not planning on sending it. And if you truly want to send it in the future, you could always take a new one. But also: delete it.”

Seriously though. You find yourself extremely frustrated in the fact that you couldn’t bring yourself to say goodbye to a photo of yourself. And in all honesty, you felt a little sad if it were to be permanently gone. Like a missed chance to show someone just how good you could look.

Let’s find your name beside the definition of “narcissistic”.

“Fuck it,” you say, pulling your pants up. You zip up the jeans and stick your phone in the back pocket, turned off and conundrum forgotten.

You are putting a final brush of lip gloss when your phone buzzes on your vanity table.

7:48pm “Hey Y/N. Sorry I’m running a little bit late. I just need another five minutes.”

You promptly reply.

7:48pm “No worries. I can go to the restaurant first and get us seats. Pick out a wine or something for us to share?”

Keys, wallet, extra cash. All check. You glance at your phone again and see that Taehyung has yet to reply. Knowing him, he is probably rushing right now trying to finish whatever it is. He hated being late and keeping people waiting.

Buzz.

7:50pm “I need to see you.”

You stare at the text, feet frozen on the ground. Your palms suddenly get strangely clammy and the more you stare at the text, the more the words seem to shift and blur in your eyesight. Your heart is thundering as you type a response.

7:53pm “At the office?”

His text back comes immediately.

7:53pm “No. My house. I’ll send you the address.”

Indeed, the address is shot through, and you recognize the street name as part of an expensive neighbourhood with fancy buildings and bougie restaurants. Surely, it must not be professional for you to go up directly to your boss’ place of personal living. Also, what would he need you for that could not be done at the office, the place of work?

You desperately wish you had somebody to talk this over with, but Jimin knew nothing about you and Seokjin, and neither did Taehyung. Besides, the latter was still at work. Taking a seat on the stairway by the door, you decide to consult the next best thing: Google.

“Booty call (n): someone who receives a text or call by a bastard between the times of 12am – 3am for a hookup. The bastard will usually greet the booty call with a simple ‘hey’ or ‘what’s up?’”

You nervously bite on your fingernail. Technically, it is only 8pm. He also did not greet with “hey” or “what’s up?” but then again, he never texted you before. His direct message may as well have been the equivalent of “hey” or “what’s up?”. Swallowing, you scan through the next part of the text definition.

“The bastard enjoys using the booty call for sex and nothing else. No friendship is involved.”

You set the phone down beside you. Two consenting adults. An itch that only the other could satisfy. No. Seokjin’s lame ass probably wouldn’t even know what a booty call was. It’s always about work with him.

8:00pm “I want you”

8:00pm “Right now.”

You suddenly see yourself in that garter set again with its frills and open hearts in all the wrong/right places.

...

Seokjin drums his fingers on his bar table impatiently. He had sent you the text over half an hour ago and had not received a single response. He ponders if you had even received the text message or if you were already drinking the night away, as you had often told him would be your Friday evening.

Meandering over to his personal shelf of liquor, he uncaps a bottle of whiskey and prepares an iced glass.

He hopes that you will be the answer to his problem. If somebody had asked him only a few weeks ago if he could have ever envisioned himself in this situation, he would have denied it vehemently. However, the weekend with you had had him contemplating things over and over in his head all week.

Most thoughts were often of matters strictly at hand, but sometimes he found himself staring into space after a particularly sinful image of you interrupts his client meeting. It also hadn’t helped that with the incoming heat wave summer brings, the general population elects to wear a little less than usual, and you being in that halter dress had done him zero favours.

Blinking, he realizes he has poured a little more than his usual amount of whiskey. He exhales sharply, duly noting the slight increase in his heartbeat, and clears his throat despite being the only person home. There is the low rumbling of a car engine in the background, and he is reminded of a moan that suspiciously resembles an employee he cannot wipe out of his mind.

He checks his phone once again to see if there had been any missed messages while combing his fingers through his hair. The least you could do would be to at least send some type of message of whether or not you wanted to come. He wouldn’t be offended – it is slightly inappropriate to be seeing you outside of the office (you as his plus one as an exception) – but he knew he would be more offended if you simply left him hanging.

The sip of whiskey helps ease the tension around his neck after sitting in video conferences all day. Without much of a thought, he swipes the barstool beside him and inspects it of dust.

The doorbell rings.

You are tugging at the jacket you have chosen for the occasion: the longest one you own. During your Uber over, you had tried your best not to make eye contact with the driver, but you do not know if that had made him more or less apprehensive of his passenger. You knock this time, the itch building beneath the jacket.

“Did you tour the city?” he says with a drawl when he opens the door.

You meet his eyes shyly. They are regarding you with amusement. There is the smell of robust acidity when you brush past him to enter his penthouse. The lights are dimmed in the space except for a bulb hanging over the enormous kitchen island counters. A wall of expensive bottles line one side of the wall, and you spy the culprit of the previous smell on the bar table.

He continues to watch you with a bemused smile as you stand transfixed at the large space decorated with post-modern furniture. Most of it is a near clinical white, but a splash of pink and greens accent the walls or as a central statement piece.

“Would you like anything to drink?” he asks.

Startled, you glance at his wall. You recognize none of the labels and tell him that you’ll just take whatever it is that he has. You stand in your spot and watch as he rolls back his sleeves to pour you a drink. Your fingers clutch and pull the jacket around your shoulders tighter around your body as you are reminded of the muscles beneath the set of his light tunic and velvet trousers.

He hands the drink to you, noticing how cold your fingertips are when they brush against his. This is the first time he has seen you with your hair fully down and not in the work day ponytail you often sport. He notices the flush of pink blush you have applied and the same scent of perfume he has smelled before. Your legs are bare and he can’t help but wonder where you had been planning to go before he had called you to be dressed up like so. He also notices how often you are picking at your jacket.

“Sit.” He gestures to the couch. “You can take off the jacket if you want. I don’t have a coat hanger so drape it over a chair if you want.”

It may have been his imagination, but you seem to turn an even lighter shade of pink.

“R-Right now? You want me to undress now?”

He crosses his arms across his chest. Even though the tunic is loose-fitted, it does not hide the broadness of his shoulders and the definition of his deltoids. “If you don’t want to, that’s fine. The jacket is borderline hideous so maybe keep cover whatever else you’ve got planned underneath there.” He takes a seat across from you and crosses a long leg.

You can feel your entire body heating up as he runs his eyes up and down your body. It should not be possible for someone to look as good as he did simply sitting, swirling his cup lazily with the barely there smirk.

No friendship. Just sex.

You throw back the drink, nearly gagging at the unfamiliar taste. “I haven’t ever really done this before, so I’m just going to go for it,” you say. You stand and inhale deeply. Taking a few steps forward, you walk towards him.

Seokjin watches as you come closer. He sees as you begin to fumble at the buttons of your jacket. In one swift motion, you have suddenly ended up straddled on his lap.

You press your lips against his, gripping the back of his head and interloping your fingers through the soft tendrils of his hair. He tastes like the sweet whiskey you had both shared and an undertone of mint. You press your own heated body against his chest.

“What in the – ” he says, pushing you off him. He is stopped short only when his eyes land on what you had been concealing beneath the jacket.

...

Taehyung had ran as fast as he could from the subway station. Just as he was exiting, he had spied a small flower stand and in the spur of the moment, had decided to purchase a bouquet consisting of magnolias and roses.

He hadn’t meant for the entire thing to have taken that long. He had planned the speech in his mind for days prior, and had even rehearsed it in front of his mirror that morning of. Yet when it came time, and they were standing before one another, his mouth had simply went dry.

He hopes that you haven’t been waiting long, as the five minutes he had texted you about had turned into a solid thirty. He knew there would be raised voices, and he knew that there might even be tears. But he had not anticipated his own feeling of sadness in knowing that there was truly no going back.

“Um, table for two? I think my friend may already be here,” he says to the hostess when he arrives.

Her fingers deftly flip through a few pages of her book. “Do you have a name?”

Taehyung offers yours. “But I don’t think we have a reservation. She may have walked in a while ago?” He proceeds to give a simple description of what you look like. The hostess shakes her head; Taehyung thanks her and shuffles to the side so that the couple behind him could have their turn.

8:42pm “Hey, Y/N. Sorry again. I just arrived. Text me where you’re sitting? I have something that will hopefully make it up to you.”

He leans against the wall, trying his best to catch his breath while ignoring the frantic thumping of his heart. He still does not know if what he did was for the best. He doesn’t know what this could mean for his own future. All he knows is that he needs to speak to you first.

Five minutes pass. Ten. Another fifteen.

He has sent you another text with similar words as the first, but has yet to receive any reply. Calling you has only lead to your voicemail, and knowing that you are not an avid checker of that, he was not able to leave you a message there either. Deciding that maybe you had gone to the bathroom or perhaps you had simply not arrived yet but stuck in traffic elsewhere, he sends you once last text.

9:12pm “Call me when you receive this. I have something important to tell you.”

One incoming text.

Taehyung grips the bouquet harder, missing the vibrations of his phone. His mind is preoccupied with the other speech he has prepared once he is able to see you face to face.

9:13pm “Fuck you, Kim Taehyung. For the record, you’re not the one breaking up with me. I am. I hope the two of you burn in hell together.”

...

Your entire face is burning hotter than your body had been minutes earlier. You have returned to the seat you had been in originally and Seokjin had moved to the further end of the couch across from you. You are no longer only in the bright red lingerie from before, but in a collared shirt that he had thrown to you after he had thrown you off.

Seokjin clears his throat. He keeps his gaze on either your face or somewhere behind you. He does his best not to comment at the fact that he can still see the red of your thong beneath the sheer shirt he had given you. The shirt dwarfs and swallows your smaller body in it. While he might have commented that you looked cute, he shifts himself uncomfortably in his seat after accidentally (?) glancing at your nipples which protrude beneath the thin material. He gropes awkwardly for a throw pillow but notes that it is on the end of the couch closer to you. He crosses his legs instead.

“So what exactly did you think I called you here for?”

Maybe you could just casually fake a stomachache to escape. But it’s a little too late now. Not that you could exactly run outside looking like this. You slide a little lower in the couch, the cheap material of your thong digging into slits that it should not be digging in. You had spied that the heart shaped cut outs of the top were evident through the transparency of the top, so you had elected to take it off when given the privacy to change. Now you wonder if that had been the correct choice as you are nearly certain that the constant rubbing on your boobs on the shirt would make other things evidently pop.

“You were the one who said that you wanted me. Here I quote: “I want you. Right now.” You show him your phone with the receipts.

He barks out a curt laugh, pushing your phone back to you. He ignores the missed button of your shirt that has exposed more of your skin when you had leaned forward with your phone. “I meant I want you here right now. I’ve been stuck at home in international meetings all day, and wanted to speak with you so I could have my dinner in peace after. I didn’t need you to waste any more of my time by waiting by the doorbell until whenever was convenient for you.”

“Well I’m sorry… You could have maybe switched around your words,” you mutter beneath your breath. Peaking beneath your lashes, you can tell that he has pretended not to hear you. He wets his lips with his tongue before sipping again at his drink. When he removes the cup, they glisten with moisture and look delectably soft and plush.

He can see that you are watching him. Your somewhat shy demeanor at the moment throws him off, and he has to adjust the way he sits again. “Hasn’t anyone taught you proper posture?” he chastises you. Your slouching had only drawn the large shirt up your legs. After you adjust the way you are positioned, he reaches over to a folder that had been on the wooden coffee table. He hands the package to you. “This is the reason that I wanted to talk to you.”

There are pages upon pages of the contract. The words with line after line of legal terms and jargon make you blink several times.

“Isn’t this basically what Yerin does?” you ask once you have breezed through it quickly.

He has returned to sipping at his drink. In the light (and your own soberness), you note how quickly he glows under the influence. You swallow the laugh before it can escape, thinking how much he looked like a little chibi character with his over-dramatic blush.

“Yerin’s due for a contract renewal. I also know that your contract is about to expire as well. In all honesty, you have done more work around the office than she or anyone has.”

“I mean, I’m honoured. But look at the two of us right now. I don’t want the rest of the office to think I’ve slept my way into a position. I’ll be fine after my contract expires.” You say the last sentence as consolation to yourself and him.

He shakes his head. “She gave me her resignation letter last week. She’s moving with her fiancée. I now have a vacant position and I need it filled immediately. I believe that you’d be a good fit.”

“I don’t know,” you mumble, “A lifestyle of getting Starbucks orders that run into next week? Can’t exactly say it’s all that enticing to be working for a spawn of Satan.”

This time he laughs loudly audibly. “Is that what you think of me? I’d thought you’d at least be more creative when coming up of nicknames.” He stands and walks back to his liquor cabinet. Returning, he refills both of your cups with a new dark liquid.

“I need time to think about it,” you tell him honestly. “As you have probably figured out, I didn’t exactly plan on being offered a job tonight.”

He uncrosses his legs and leans forward. The neck of his shirt falls, opening up to a dangerous black hole to his chest. “I still can’t believe you thought I had texted for a booty call.”

You lean forward and match his stance. “Your text was seriously misleading, okay? Besides, we haven’t exactly talked about what happened last week so I’m sorry for misinterpreting the weird signals you’ve been putting out.”

“I’ve been sending weird signals.”

“Yes. You haven’t spoken to me all week.”

“I told you, I’ve been in a lot of meetings with our new development plan. You’re not exactly a saint yourself by the way; coming in with new outfits everyday and sashaying deliberately in front of my room to the kitchen.”

You hadn’t known that he had picked up on your new wardrobe, let alone your dumb plan of checking in on him while you go get food. “I didn’t know if we were just going to pretend that it never happened or if, I don’t know, there was something.”

“Do you want there to be something?”

“I said I don’t know.” You throw your hands up in exasperation. “I’m nearly 30 years old. I’ve worked over a dozen unrelated jobs. I’m currently an intern slash personal assistant slash whatever job position you have just offered me. I live in a tiny apartment and spend my weekends either home alone or at a bar with a singular friends. I don’t think I’m exactly screaming sexy vixen here.”

You do not miss the raise of his eyebrow at your last sentence.

“I don’t believe your age needs to have anything to do with your accomplishments,” he says.

“Says the younger successful CEO of his own company,” you snort.

“I believe in bringing out the best colours for any employee in my company. I started DailyHive off with just an idea and nobody to explain to me what I should be doing. It is people like an experienced intern or a helpful stranger on the street who helped me figure out how to set a company off. The only thing that should be addressed with one’s age is that they’ve got extra years of wisdom. They don’t offer anything less because of a few less letters after their name; they offer so much more.

Even if an individual doesn’t stay at the company, I am content in knowing that I am able to be a part of an individual’s journey to better themselves.”

You draw your legs up beneath you. “You’re damn lucky to have found your own colour in the world. I’m a year-old tube with dry stuck paint at its opening. I don’t know what I want.” It takes you a moment to see that he is looking anywhere else but you, when you feel a breeze shift along your butt. You lower your legs again.

“So many people are fixated on finding their own colour,” he says with a sigh. His gaze lingers outside his windows overlooking the city’s twinkling lights filled with bustling cars and families winding down for the night. “I think life is really about creating your own palette. Nobody is ever created with a singular colour. We’re multidimensional beings with changing goals and motives. We can love one thing and hate it the next moment.”

You bring your legs even closer to you. Damn him for being so freaking attractive while talking about humans being a paint palette.

“Yeah okay. Again, let me think about this,” you grumble.

He turns back to look at your. His eyes are solemn but kind and understanding. He brings out his phone. “Send me your resume. Even if you decide against it, at least I’ll have you on file. I’ll forward it to Yerin before she goes so she can send it off to HR as needed.”

You nod. “I’ll AirDrop it to you right now before I can change my mind. Give me a moment.” You curse him and his words that have now begun to worm its way into your mind. Swiping distractedly at your cluttered gallery, you click the file and send it over to his phone.

“There,” you say once you have completed the task. You look up when he does not respond, noting that he is staring intensely at his phone. “Yeah I get it. Like I said, a lot of random-ass jobs. But I’ll be working on building my palette as you’ve so elegantly put it.”

“I, uh,” He clears his throat. “Could you send it again? I don’t think I got it.”

You roll your eyes. “What are you talking about? Here let me see. You probably don’t know how to access it.” You reach for his phone.

He retracts his hand quickly, immediately clicking the lock button. “No!” he says loudly, “I know how to access it. Just send it again.”

You shake your head, back to scrolling through your phone when it shuts off on you. He pushes you off his lap. “Uh, I can’t. It just died.” You look up and see that he is distracted by his phone again.

“It’s fine,” he says after a moment. “Just send Yerin an email directly, I guess.”

“Okay,” you say. The two of you glance at each other in silence. “So,” you begin, “This is a little awkward but I hadn’t really thought I would be going home. Dead phone means no Uber.”

“I have an extra guest room,” he says before you can finish. “I’ll have someone drive you home tomorrow.”

“Still got some good pillows and sheets though, right?” you say cheekily.

He rolls his eyes and gestures for you to follow him.

...

He tosses and turns in his bed after the two of you have retired into your separate rooms. A particular image cannot be removed from his eyes, and the subject of said image lies only a few walls apart from where he is. He reaches over for his phone.

You know you should have been able to fall asleep quickly, especially with the silk pajamas he has lent you and the extra soft pillows he has prepared on your behalf. Yet, there is an enticing thought that continues to run scenarios through your mind. You need a cup of water or at least some fresh air to clear such thoughts, and remember seeing a balcony by the dining area.

Padding as quiet as you can to the door, you open it as smoothly as you can to not disturb the owner of the house. You are about to walk through when you find a large wall in your way.

Seokjin stands in the doorframe. He looks down at you, a sensual shadow that makes you choke on your breath.

He holds up his phone, the last image he received lighting up your room.

...

“You’re sure this is what you want?” you ask, peeking from behind the door frame. Seokjin lounges on his bed, one leg up and both his arms spread across the back of the headboard. Your toes curl upon laying eyes at his long limbs with that deceiving baby face.

“That was your original plan when you showed up, no? Might as well go through with it.”

You take a deep breath and walk into his room, back into the garter set of the photo you had unintentionally sent him.

He sweeps over you in one movement. He is suddenly ravenous, and you are exactly what he needs to fill his appetite.

“Turn around,” he states.

You do so. He follows the length of the stockings up your thighs, the barely-there thong that opens up with little heart encasing your skin around the side, front and back. Then the frilly top that leaves nothing up to the imagination as they cling onto your skin in one thin strap.

“Come here,” is his next command.

You approach the edge of his bed, then crawl up towards where he has lounged.

“Sit.” He can barely manage the singular word. You had said you were not a vixen before, but that is all he can envision right now. He pats the spot.

Seeing where his hand rests, you lift it and place it on your body. The heat it emanates travels directly to your core. You then sit where you want, and feel a twitch beneath where you have placed your body. This time, he does not push you away when you weave your fingers into his hair and give him a deep kiss. Your tongue sweeps teasingly along the plump lips you had been eyeing earlier that evening, darting in and out without truly meeting his.

He throbs against your thigh. His hands travel from your back to your waist and finally up to your breasts. He takes one of your nipples between his fingers and gives it a light squeeze. He feels you hum at his movements. Traveling to a soft spot in your neck, he suckles it gently all while rubbing the hardening bud.

“Let me hear you say it again,” he whispers between a nip on your earlobe and leaving a wet trail to the top of your breasts. He slips lower on his back, creating a wider cradle in which you rest within his lap.

You adjust yourself, sucking his full bottom lip. “Daddy,” you sigh. This time the twitch is aggressive and you know that there is a growing wet spot where you sit. You sit up with a small groan as he cups your entire breast in a hand. He brings his lips to it and he suckles on your nipple this time. His tongue brushes against the sensitive skin. One hand trails down your abdomen and brushes against your folds. He presses a thumb that easily slides between to your bud.

“Oh, you are so wet.” The sentence comes out as a breathy erotic moan. “Daddy will take care of you tonight.”

Lifting you off him, he slides out of his pajamas before crouching above your figure. He shares another heated kiss, all the while tugging at the laces that hold your outfit together. Your nails dig and leave red markings down his forearms and back, while you bite back a growing moan and heated drop in your body.

“Tell me what you need,” he exhales.

You close your eyes as his tip presses against your pelvis. Reaching, you take his member into your hands and begin to tug at it. You bring yourself to meet him, then begin coating yourself over the entirety of his shaft. When his body spasms above yours, you circle his tip with your thumb and rub it against your clit.

His breathing increases until it becomes a staggered sob. You feel him tightening and he grunts. Taking him to you again, you draw his face towards you, opening his mouth with a swipe of your tongue. He battles against your tongue with his own all the while you increase the speed at which you continue to roll your wrist along his length.

He shakes again violently, and you know he is at the start of his climb. The growl fills the room when you grab him and deny him of is orgasm. He bites into your lip, drawing the iron taste of blood.

“That’s for last time,” you say, the feeling of pain barely registered above the sensation of pleasure.

“Let’s call it even now,” he says. He loops a finger through one of the cutout hearts of your bottoms and the buttons holding it together separate with a pop. He presses gentle kisses on the soft part of your abdomen, then the squishy part of your pelvis, drawing closer to the middle of your thighs, and all the while leading up to your drenched core.

You cannot do anything else but writhe and moan beneath his tongue.

“You should wear that more often. In different colours. Different styles like a babydoll.” The vibrations along his lips only drive you closer to the edge. He latches onto your clit and continues to drink in the sounds that come out from your mouth. “Such naughty sounds from such a pretty mouth,” he rumbles. You yelp when he pinches your nipple with a force, and that animalistic noise has him drawing back up to you.

Your own hunger is overwhelmed when you taste yourself in the harsh kiss he has given. He lines himself up and begins to thrust deeply into you; his fingers dipping into your mouth as you begin to suck. Crude incoherent growls arise from him, his pace not slowing. His fingers leave so that he can reposition himself and watch as he enters and exits you each time. There is only the sound of heavy breathing from the both of you and finally.

You bring your hips to meet his at the same time that he releases himself all over you. You follow only seconds later, the orgasm so intense that for a moment you are knocked breathless. You then feel his soft tremoring kisses on your forehead, your nose and finally a long one on your lips.

“I really need to watch what I send you,” you whisper. In the dim light of the room, you see a large grin as he presses his forehead against yours.

....

The first rule in one-night stands is that you are to never fall for the person. Boundaries are to be set up and these boundaries are not meant to be crossed. Yet throughout the next day, you find yourself hurtling towards the other side of these boundaries at a dangerous momentum.

There had been more love-making sessions that you would like to care to admit. It just hadn’t seemed right to send you home without first having some breakfast. Then you couldn’t because your phone was not finished charging. By then it had been lunch. It is the day of the Gala anyways so why don’t you just stay and he’ll have somebody swing by your place to pick up your outfit?

You had never known Seokjin to be particularly sweet, with his no nonsense attitude and extremely picky choices as your supervisor. Yet when he had placed a meticulously curated meal before you, you had to admit that he is an extremely good cook who also happened to remember your food choices from the times you had shared lunches together.

No breakfast meats as too much salt straight off the bat made your stomach complain. You hated citrus, so he opted out of that when making salmon for lunch. He had made some homemade pesto pasta instead, knowing that you had often inquired of if green was actually healthier than the usual red or white. He made sure you were fed, kept warm and content.

There had been a brief few hours of the day when he had to be in his home office to take some calls. But that had not been a problem. You had retired back into the guest room to take some much needed sleep, after not having had much the previous night. Then he had joined you in bed when the call was over.

He was also such a different lover when neither of you were intoxicated.

“The Gala is in three hours. Perhaps we should start to get dressed,” he whispers into your hair.

You straddle him, your head on his wide chest and one leg intertwined between his. You bury your face in the crook of his neck and nip at jaw. “Too early. Another hour,” you murmur, your hand already stroking his half hard cock.

The laugh rumbles like an impending thunderstorm. Seokjin had never anticipated how much he enjoyed having another presence in this large, empty void he occasionally called home. He had often felt a sense of dread leaving the office building knowing that he would be away from people and back alone for the next few hours until he could return to work. He liked the feeling of warmth having you in his arms; having somebody to enjoy his cooking; having somebody to share the mundane tasks of everyday life.

He has to make an effort to remove you from him despite the yearning as aftereffects of your teasing. Brushing your hair away from your eyes, he places a delicate kiss on the tip of your nose.

“I might not need three, but from our dry run I’ll suggest that you utilize all the time you have,” he says.

You roll over onto your stomach all the while watching as he stands up, previous sheets sliding past his lean torso and revealing him in his entirety. He nearly hops back into bed when he meets your dilated pupils filled with carnal hunger. “I’m going to take a shower,” he says with finality.

Groaning loudly to complain at him for leaving a cold pocket of air in the once warm sheets, you flip back onto your back. You grope blindly at the bedside tables until you find one of his shirts to cover yourself with. Your body shivers when your feet hits the icy floors. You pad over to where you had left your phone charging near the kitchen table and turn it on for the first time since it had died last night.

Your heart does a triple flip when you see the amount of missed calls and texts from Taehyung. Shit.

He picks up on the third ring.

“Taehyung,” you gush immediately.

He sounds tired when he answers. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m so sorry. I didn’t see this until now; my phone had died last night.”

“That’s okay,” he clips the words.

“A-Are you okay?” you return the question. “You said you had something important to talk to me about.” He is not talking to you like he normally does, and that worries you. Something had definitely happened.

“I did. But it’s resolved now. Where were you last night?”

You know that he is genuinely upset at something, whether that something be that you had left him alone for dinner, so you cannot even lie at your whereabouts. You begin to chew at your fingernails as you tell him, “Seokjin called me last night. It was an emergency; he needed me to help him with something. But he’s okay now. And guess what, Tae? He offered me a permanent job! Looks like I’m sticking around just a little bit longer.”

“Huh,” he says. He remains distracted and distant on the call. “Fei is calling me right now. We can talk later.”

“I’ll be at the Silver Gala with Seokjin. I’ll call you tomorrow?”

“Right. That’s tonight. Have fun.”

“Okay, bye, Tae. Tomorrow, I promise.”

You are met with the end tone of the call. You wince when you hit a sensitive part of your nail bed.

...

There is barely enough time for you to breathe, let alone think about the situation between you and Taehyung, and you and Seokjin.

You are wrapped up in the whirlwind event of the Silver Gala. It passes without a hitch. You act like the perfect arm candy of young playboy (?) worldwide handsome CEO of DailyHive. Despite all the warnings, you are however unprepared to face the hurricane of comments that arise from the night’s events.

Junho had planned for a few reporters to comment on Seokjin’s plain-Jane date. He did not expect the paparazzi to dig into anything deeper and start rumours about the mysterious woman by the side of Kim Seokjin. He did not expect to see blurry photos of the two of them playing golf at his birthday party a week prior.

Nobody expected you to be named his girlfriend.

You hate the attention that it brings. In particular, you hate the whispers from all the coworkers and the stares whenever you enter into the office alone. Just a few days ago, you had walked in on a particularly distasteful conversation in the lunchroom.

“Why would he take her of all people?” you hear someone whisper, oblivious to the fact that you are walking down the hall towards then.

“She tried to fuck my boyfriend.” This voice you do recognize as Fei’s.

“Really? Did you hear she’s got a job offer here? Do you think she’s trying to sleep her way up? You’d better keep an eye out on Taehyung then.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t let that slut run her way through here. Not again.”

That last sentence had been said straight to your face. You knew Fei hated you. You just couldn’t be bothered anymore.

You have not spoken to Seokjin since the articles have been released and instead partake in your meals on the roof where not a single soul dares to go in fear of the unrelenting summer sun.

Despite it all, you cannot help but feel a little sorry for him. You were a nobody, and so the dirt that the tabloids had dug up were really quite more like dustballs compared to the information about Seokjin. You know it must be hard for him to have his life scrutinized 24/7. It cannot be easy to have every single action picked apart for some sort of deeper meaning. That daily stress can make even the nicest person a bratty annoying SOB.

It still sucks that you’re a part of it though.

These are the thoughts that occupy your mind and make you unaware of the argument that has unfolded in the conference room.

Having always been looking for your faults, she did not falter when presented with the opportunity to use you as a scapegoat.

“This is extremely unfair. She’s just an intern and she should not have a say in decisions like these,” Fei says, her voice raising, “She’s going to be gone next week anyways.

Your attention snaps up towards them. A few minutes ago, Seokjin had asked for your opinion regarding DailyHive’s upcoming year development plan. You want to correct her in saying that it’s technically the week after that. Additionally, there is the fact that you would return after.

Seokjin sits a little straighter in his chair. “I don’t understand what Y/N has got to do with any of this. The issue I have is with your – ”

Fei does not let him finish. “You’re being prejudiced because the two of you are dating.”

The whole room watches this encounter with their breaths on hold. Taehyung lifts his gaze from his silent spot across from you.

At once, the two of you stand and shout, “No.” and “Oh my god, you’ve got it wrong!’ simultaneously.

Flustered, you begin to explain yourself. It is one to ignore your co-worker’s comments and the nuisance of the tabloids, but you at least wanted to clear any misunderstanding with Seokjin,

“He and I aren’t dating. We’re strictly in a boss and intern level relationship.” Seokjin follows this with, “Exactly. Besides, I’d be doing her and her family a favour if we were.”

This shuts you up.

“She’s old, first of all. She’d be lucky to have a younger, handsome man by her side. Secondly, it’s not like her family’s made of gold. If we were to date, I’d clearly be the one paying for everything. And imagine if we were to eventually become married! She could never afford so anything on her measly salary. Everything would definitely be coming out of my pocket.”

All the words tumble out even as his mind desperately pumps the brakes.

“I’m above that.”

There is silence in the room following the outburst. More eyes are on you than he, and they continue to watch you as you slowly rise from your seat.

“Above that?” you mutter, turning your back to the room after firmly closing your laptop to place in your bag. You hear the sound of the scraping of a chair from somewhere behind.

“She’s just an intern.”

You zip your bag, your fingers shaking with the effort to not big the whole damn thing up to throw it across the table. When you turn around, you see that Taehyung has risen from his seat while Seokjin has sat back down on his own.

“Excuse me,” you say, your voice wobbling, “Might I remind you that she is right here, and she thinks you’re a total jackass, Mr. Kim.” His name hisses from between your teeth like a whistle. “You may have money. You may own a big fancy house with expensive furniture and a whole array of million dollar pieces in your closet. But you are not above me.”

He does not meet your harsh glare.

“You know what? This entire company sucks. I might just be an intern, but I still believe that I should be treated with the same level of respect and courtesy given to any as basic human rights. So screw you. And while I’m at this? Screw you too, Fei. You suck the most. Good fucking riddance to everyone.”

...

You have been wandering the streets, still very much annoyed and heated from your outburst. You have ignored Taehyung’s calls and even Jimin’s who strangely knew to call you.

So now you are jobless (or very likely jobless). And even though you want to feel and live off the anger, the emotion that overwhelms you the most is your guilt. Because you know everything he had said about you is right.

What if you had just tried harder?

He is above you.

Would your life still be this miserable?

God, why had you ever thought that maybe he cared.

You only wanted a simple life. Was that too much to ask for?

Fate played you like a doll with your one act role as Cinderella that night.

You are a nobody.

You plop down at a park bench, blocks away from the office. And you had been so close to finishing that contract too.

Add that to your growing list of failures.

You might as well begin job searching again because you highly doubt that job offer still stands.

Your phone buzzes again with an incoming call.

“I didn’t think you still cared, Tae,” you say without even looking when picking up.

“Jesus, Y/N,” there is obvious relief in his voice, “I thought something had happened you. You’ve been gone for two hours already. And why wouldn’t I care about you?”

“Does it matter? Just pack my things for me. I’ll pick them up from you some time this weekend,” you say. The reality of your actions have finally settled, and the reality is truly devastating.

“Come back. Fei was out of line there. I don’t think even Mr. Kim would let something like that slide.”

You want to tell him that Fei is not the true problem, but you are too tired to make that correction. Instead, you say, “I’m old. I’m also tragically single. And you know what? I haven’t told you this but the flat I live at isn’t even truly mine. My parents are the one paying for it because the best thing I could afford was being roommates with some college kid who I’m sure sold drugs on the side. I think I needed a reality check. It was a harsh one, but if I don’t start achieving something of my own soon. I don’t know.

I’ll be worthless.”

You close your eyes.

“I’m fine. Thanks for checking up on me, Tae,” you say at last, doing your best to sound perkier, “If you’re talking with Jimin apologize on my behalf. I don’t think I will be the next Zuckerberg. He can continue having his information stolen from Facebook instead of me.”

Staring at the blank screen of you phone, you have hung up before you can listen to another attempt at consolation. A big fat droplet of water splashes and smears over your screen. It lights up.

I saw you on the Internet! Are you really dating the CEO of DailyHive?? BTW, this is Kiko!!

You huff.

Another droplet of water falls, hitting your face this time.

As if life couldn’t get any shittier, there is a sudden onset of rain. The sun quickly disappears behind the clouds.

You had wanted a movie. Life gave you a mockery of Cinderella, and now your classic drenched k-drama protagonist in the rain. Hey, Controller of Destiny, would it be too much right now to ask for the male lead to swoop in with an umbrella?

“You look like a drenched rat,” you hear a voice say. His voice sounds distant and muffled.

Looking up, you see a stranger holding an umbrella over your head. In his other hand, he holds out a phone currently connected to a call.

“Seokjin?” you ask into the open.

“You could have picked a further place to run to if you really were trying to run away,” he says over speakerphone. “Come into the car. Your health benefits don’t exactly kick in until later.”

Following Seokjin’s chauffeur to the black limousine parked only a minute’s walk at the park’s entrance to which you had been sitting at, you muse at the turn of events. Even a k-drama metaphor is apparently too good for you.

Seokjin hands you a handkerchief when you finally sit down beside him. “It probably wasn’t in any of our best interest that I said all of those things,” he mutters quietly.

You raise an eyebrow and say with a tilt of your lips, “Huh, you think? Was it also too much work to just come and offer me an umbrella yourself?” You work to dry your rain-soaked hair, but end up looking more and more like a wet dog.

He wrinkles his nose in distaste. “This is a very expensive suit, you know? It shouldn’t really get wet.”

Sighing, you turn to him. “Are you here for a particular reason or should I just get back out into the rain. I’m probably also drenching these leather seats.”

He contemplates something and then reaches into his breast pocket. He hands over a small box to you. It weighs in your palm like a paperweight.

“Is this your version of an apology?”

He snorts. “As if. I’m just saying – and purely stating a fact here – that it probably wouldn’t be that bad if somebody were to date you. You’re somewhat pleasing to the eye; you’re mostly hardworking and you can be useful to have around.”

He does not add that last night, he had dreamt he was that somebody.

“Also,” the next words take a while to form on his lips, “I’m regretful of the things I said earlier at the office.”

You cannot help but feel a smile tug upon hearing the strange words that are coming out of his mouth.

“God help us all if that’s what you think an apology is.”

“Open it.”

You sigh and unravel the string. In the center of the packing is a golf ball, with your initials monogrammed onto it.

“What’s this?” you ask.

He clears his throat. “I had Yerin run the paperwork so we can get started with your onboarding. I saw that today is your birthday.”

“I didn’t know you cared so much about your interns, Kim Seokjin,” you say. The smile refuses to leave your face as you turn the golf ball around in your hands.

“Fine. I saw Taehyung leave something on your desk this morning,” he finally admits.

“We’ll work on your apology. But okay. Consider your regret noted at this moment.”

He gestures to the chauffeur to start the car. From outside the vehicle, the rain dissipates. Once again, there is warmth in the air and a glow from the sun as it emerges from behind the clouds.

“Um, Seokjin. The office is the other way. You might need to hire a new chauffeur,” you say. Your shared office building grows smaller in the distance.

The scene begins to fade like the epilogue of a movie.

Seokjin leans back in his seat and closes his eyes. “I know. I just thought, screw the company. Let’s go play a real game of golf.”

You lean back, holding the golf ball close in your lap.

Maybe, your 29+1 might not be so bad after all.

152 notes · View notes

nicka-nell · 3 years

Note

Heey ^__^ could I get Oikawa and Sakusa for your event? Oikawa angst to fluff with 17 and 58 so they have a fight and s/o dreams bad and he comforts his s/o? And Sakusa break-up to make-up with 6 and 21 and fluff at the end? Thank you and I hope your event goes well <3

Bad dream (Oikawa x reader) Break-up to make-up (Sakusa x reader)

Hi! I’m so so so sorry that I answer you so late! But I was busy with the move in my new house the whole time, and I had no time to write. :(( I hope that’s okay and that you’re not mad or angry or anything else. So here we go!

Valentine’s Day - Prompt Event | Masterlist (coming soon)

Pairing: Oikawa x reader (Bad dream) Warning: angst to fluff, mention of cheating Prompts: 17. “Shh, it’s okay. It was just a dream.” 58. “I didn’t mean the things I said.”

Many people, handsome men and women in expensive suits and dresses. People laugh, talk about every new gossip, and you feel completely out of place with your simple dress. It is your favorite one, a dress you had bought for a wedding and now always wear on special occasions. It flatters your body, yet it’s a simple dress. One from a regular store, for a normal Price and not a brand dress, with crystals, beads sewn by hand or other elaborate stuff.

They invited Oikawa to a gala. One to which all successful people appear, but unfortunately you no longer know anyone. All have already gone home.

Intimidated you sit at the table, looking over at the cluster of women that had formed around a certain person. Your boyfriend. Oikawa always liked to be admired by everyone, so it’s no wonder that he feels comfortable with the women who would like to scratch out each other’s eyes just to get to Oikawa.

It offends you that he pays little attention to you today, only takes photos with all the other women. Oikawa avoids photos together with you and even forbade the photographer to photograph you. You wonder why he invited you in the first place, why he even wanted you with him if he didn’t want you by his side anyway.

One woman has been talking to him for a long time, exchanging loving looks, looks that Oikawa usually only throws at you. Or are you imagining all this in your current state? Whether or not you imagine it, you no longer want to look at them.

You know Oikawa isn’t paying any attention to you right now, get up without a word, and quietly find your way out, past the bodyguards standing at the entrance, as they point out to you that you won’t get back inside without an admission card. But you don’t even want that.

With a big lump in your throat, your feet carry you through the frosty night. Along the dark alleys you both drove with Oikawa’s car a few hours ago. Your body is getting cold, already shaking, but the bitter pain in your heart makes you forget all about it.

Obsessively, you’re trying to think of something else, not what Oikawa is doing to that woman right now. “Y/n! Wait!” Makes you a voice twitch.

How many times had this woman told him about her success in her modeling career? What was her name again? He obviously doesn’t remember. Oikawa’s eyes silently follow her lips as they move when she looks at him. Did she ask him a question? Damn it…

He wasn’t listening to her. “Hah, you’re hilarious, you know that?” Oikawa smiles, hoping she hadn’t asked him something. But apparently she didn’t, because she just puts her fingers to his chest with a smile, stroll her tongue over her lips before she stands on her tiptoes and approaches Oikawa’s ear.

“You know, we can continue our conversation somewhere else. My hotel isn’t far from here.” She breathes seductively at him, but Oikawa pushes her away, irritated. What the… Without really going into it further, he goes out of the group to go to the table where he was far too rarely today.

On the way there, he takes two glasses from one of the servers who walks through the room with a tray full of champagne glasses to approach the table where you are, with a smile on his face. Where you should be.

Because when Oikawa arrives, there’s no one. The place is empty, your bag is missing. There’s no one at the entrance. He can nowhere find you. A bad feeling spreads in him. Worry that something happened to you, but also anger, that you just left without telling him anything.

How does he look like now? Surrounded by women, but he can’t hold his own one, the woman he loves. His gaze is dark when he asks one of the men at the door if they saw you. But they stay calm. Just tell him that you left the building a few minutes ago.

Oikawa doesn’t let the man finish his sentence, almost jumps out of the automatically opening door. It increases his pulse as he looks in all directions, looks for your silhouette, but does not find you.

Oikawa’s sports car is still right where he parked it. Sure… Because how could you drive the car if he had the keys? His head thinks about where you could have been now, but his legs are already moving, knowing exactly where you want to go. Where you feel safe and secure. At your home.

His pace keeps getting faster, so fast, he’s almost running, hoping to catch up with you soon. Hoping nothing happened to you in the alleys in the dark. And there he sees you, arms wrapped around your body, the footstep heavy and slow.

“Y/n! Wait!” Shouts Oikawa’s voice as you turn around and look in his direction. He quickly caught up with you, but wishes he hadn’t. Because every step he takes toward you, he sees your sparkling eyes. How they glisten through your tears, reddened as your body trembles.

“Y/n…” He pronounces your name in such a fragile tone as his hands approach you, gently laying on your shoulders. They are freezing cold. He didn’t notice it because of your tears, but now that he’s looking more closely, he sees that your lips no longer have their natural color, that your teeth are clattering.

“Let go of me, Oikawa!” You sniff tormented, pull yourself out of his grip and knock his hands off you. Oikawa… A punch in his face. A blow to his heart. When was the last time he heard his last name coming out of your mouth? Maybe in high school.

“What… Why did you run away Y/n? You made me look like an idiot! And now you’re standing here, shaking and rejecting me while you’re crying? What’s wrong with you?” But he does not finish his last sentence when you interrupt his words so quickly.

“YOU look like an idiot? I stood there like an idiot! Sat there like a gray mouse in the corner while you were chatting with the women! The whole time you let yourself be photographed with them, wanted to avoid all photos with me! Why did you invite me if you didn’t want me there? Why did you flirt with this woman? Why are you doing this?! If you wanted to break up, you could have just told me instead of kicking me in the dirt! Oikawa, go!”

You yell at him, punch him in the chest before looking at him with hateful eyes. He does not understand your words, does not understand why you are angry, but it offends him to know that you seem to trust him so little. He hadn’t flirted with that woman. So why do you see it like that? Why can’t you see what was behind all this? “I was just trying to protect you!”

“Protect me? From what? From you? You wanted to show me that until now you only flirted with the women at the events, maybe even fucked them?” You are full of anger, full of rage, no longer aware of your own words that leave your mouth indignantly. Which hurt him.

Because he loves you, always loved you. In all those years you’ve been together, he’s always tried to treat you like his queen. Because he’s the king, and you are his wife. So how could you possibly think he was cheating on you? How can you portray him as a person after all he’s done for you?

“You really think I’d sleep with any of these women? Do you really believe that, Y/n? I can’t believe it…” he shouts at you in horror, doesn’t notice how he steps back and looks at you coldly.

“You know, maybe I should really go back, really flirt with that annoying chick and get in bed with her. If that’s what you think I am. A cheating boyfriend! I am curious how her breasts will feel in my hands, what her mouth can do and-” Even Oikawa forgets himself, not noticing how he hurts you more and more with every word.

How you shut your ears because you don’t want to hear all this. “Stop it! Stop it! Then go Oikawa! Go and don’t come back!” You call him before you turn around and start running. Run away from him as soon as possible.

You don’t know if he’s following you or going back to the gala, but you don’t care. You just want to go to your house. Get out of this dress, into your bed and under the warm blanket that gives you security.

Back at the gala, Oikawa’s eyes look out for the pretty woman who had been flirting with him an hour ago. It doesn’t take long before he finds her, walks up to her and asks if she wants to share a drink with him.

Seductively, she licks her lips, only nodding as she struts in front of him, wobbling her butt to present it in its best form. “What took you so long, pretty boy?” She asks him, her hand on his thigh, as she sits on the bar stool and waits for the waiter.

“I had an argument with my girlfriend, she was here, too. Well, now she’s not.” For a brief moment, there’s a spark of regret in his expression. A little of guilt as he lowers his head and looks at the hand on his lap, searching for its way to his belt.

“Your girlfriend? Didn’t see her. But good thing she’s not here anymore, what?” She winks at him, but Oikawa doesn’t answer her. Her false fingernails drill into the fabric of his pants, causing him to look into her face with too much make-up. “My room is just around the corner…”

They exchange wild kisses as Oikawa pushes her against the wall of the hotel room, rips her dress off and begins to play with her breasts. He can hear her moan loudly, as well as the tearing of his shirt and the buttons jumping in all directions. “Shit, we should have done this a lot sooner.” Oikawa groans as he kisses her neck to her breasts.

“Did you hear? Y/n! Y/n!” Your vision becomes unclear, inconsistencies slowly form now that you hear his voice twice. Now that you feel a grip on your shoulders rocking your body. “Y/n!” The voice becomes clearer. The images you had before your eyes become more unclear, disappear.

Instead, you are in your bedroom. The dimmed light of the bedside lamp illuminates the room and surrounds Oikawa’s worried face. You don’t notice your tears running down your cheeks. You don’t notice Oikawa pushing you into his arms.

It still confuses you. “Shh, it’s okay. It was just a dream.” he tries to calm you down without even knowing what you have dreamed. “Oi… Oikawa?” Your voice trembles at his skin, as does your body. “Please, please don’t call me by my last name. You know I love you and I don’t like it when you don’t call me by my name.”

His hand gently strokes your hair, his scent flows through your nose, calms you somehow. “But you were… with her…” You sniff, murmur your words indistinctly. Oikawa didn’t understand all your words, but he can imagine what you said.

“Y/n… I wasn’t with a woman. Just with you, right here, right now. What you saw was all just a dream, none of it happened.” Oikawa’s voice lies like a pleasant veil on your skin, calming you with every word as he embraces your face with his hands and makes you look into his chestnut brown eyes. Looking at you with love. “But… you said…”

“I didn’t mean the things I said. I don’t know what happened, I was mad. I was mad because you just walked away because you had portrayed me as a cheater even though I love you with everything I have. You know, Y/n, I want you to be there. I always want you by my side. But I also want to protect you from the media. I don’t want people following you. That you become a prey just because you’re the girlfriend of a successful volleyball player. I want your beautiful smile all to myself. And this woman, she… I don’t even know what she said. She was just annoying. I know all this doesn’t excuse what I said, and I’m sorry I didn’t think about your feelings when I dragged you to the gala. I thought you’d be there-”

Your lips seal his words before he can finish them. Tightly your lips press against each other, almost painfully, while you want to show each other that you are sorry. You didn’t know Oikawa was trying to protect you from the media, but you’re grateful to him.

“I’m sorry I said all those ugly things to you, Tooru.” You breath in between all your kisses as he presses your body to his, while his hands drive over your back full of desire. “I’m sorry I said all those things too. About you, about that woman… I’m sorry Y/n. Please forgive me, my beautiful queen.” His words are so honest, so pure, yet so vulnerable.

“Yes… Yes, I forgive you, my king.”

Pairing: Sakusa x reader (break up to make up) Warning: angst to fluff, Prompts: 6. I’ll feel much better if you let me walk you home.” 21. You come here often?”

It’s been three years since you’ve gone your own way. Three years trying to enjoy the places you had previously spent with Sakusa. He had broken up with you, felt like it would be better to go separate ways.

He wouldn’t be able to make you happy if he was just at his training all the time, traveling the world with the Japanese national team and focusing only on his career. But he didn’t pay attention to your feelings. That you loved him, had always loved him, and had always supported him.

It hurt you that he didn’t want to take this step with you, that he let you go even though you had begged him to stay. To save your relationship and look to your future together.

Three years have passed since you tried to forget him. But no matter where you go, no matter who you spend your day with, you always had to think of Sakusa. You always had to think about your relationship, the tenderness and the touches of the past. Sakusa did not like physical contact with others, but you were an exception. He loved to hold you in his arms as you sat on your couch together; you read your favorite book and he listened to you quietly. Taking a bath with you and watching a sequel to your favorite show. Or to go for a walk with you.

But now everything is different. While Sakusa is successful and shines in the spotlight, you try to distract yourself with miserable dates. Except none of these men are like him. No one was interesting.

Three months ago, you took your friends’ advice, stopped dating, and focused on you instead. You feel like it helped you, because slowly, you started thinking less about Sakusa. Less of your time together. Started to forget about him.

You don’t know why, but today it drives you into the forest, into the little hut on the mountain where you were with Sakusa. You forgot your worries and only enjoyed the beautiful view. Still you like going there, only you don’t think of him anymore, but of the nature that surrounds you, the animals that are on the trees and the ground, until you arrive at the hut.

You have a thin smile on your lips as you walk around the hut to sit on the edge of the small cliff. You bend your legs up to your chest, sit there, watch the sun go down and let the fine spring breeze tickle your skin.

“You come here often?”

He hasn’t been here for a long time, to be exact. The last time he went this way was just over three years ago. Three years ago, where he probably made the stupidest mistake of his life. Because he had let go of his luck for the career he had always wanted.

He thought it was best for both of you. He thought he was doing all this just for you. So why did it feel so wrong?

Why could he never forget you all this time, why did his heart hurt every time the journalists asked him if there was already a lady of heart in his life? Why did he still have a picture of you two as a background? Why was the cheesy keyring you gave him for fun on Valentine’s Day still hanging on his keyring? After all this time, why did his legs carry him to the one place he loved most after your home?

The sun almost went down when Sakusa arrived at the hut where he used to be with you. In front of the hut is a large rock with a notch that looks as if someone had cut a hoof into it. In your little hiking book he had read that there is a little legend about this, a fairy tale, in that a prince with his horse had taken so much power and energy to jump over the cliff to his princess, that the horse had left an imprint in the rock.

Sakusa still remembers well how you smiled at him when he had read this saga in high concentration. A bittersweet smile spreads on his lips as his fingers touch the rock before he approaches the small hut.

But strangely enough, his legs don’t carry him into it, but around it, as if he wants to watch the last bit of the sunset. But it’s not like that. As Sakusa goes around to get to the small cliff where he has sat so often, his heart beats faster.

He briefly thinks of just turning around, walking, but his words leave his lips even before he can think. “You come here often?”

Your heart races, painfully contracts with the sound of this voice. You are considering whether it might not have been your imagination, but you are hearing steps that are getting closer and closer to your form.

Hesitantly you look to the side, up to the face, what you had seen the last time three years ago in real life. Not only on a screen. “Ki… yoomi?” Confused, you look at the black-haired man in front of you, who looks down with embarrassment, his hands in his trouser pockets, before looking at the sky. To the mountains where the sun hides.

“Can… I sit down?” He sounds like he doesn’t know what to say, what to do. But you don’t give him an answer, just turn away from him and look forward again. “This is a free place, I can’t forbid you to sit here.” Although his words had a hint of irony, yours are serious.

Your arms clasp your legs tighter as you perceive his scent after he sits down. How you feel his warmth, as his shoulder brushes yours. For a long time you remain silent, say nothing, do not know how to erase this painful silence.

You don’t know why your body goes crazy, why everything hurts again, why his presence makes you fight with your own tears, even though you were so sure you almost forgot about him.

“Y/n... it was my biggest mistake to do all this to you, even though I loved you… Even though I love you.” Delayed, he pronounces his last sentence quietly so that you hardly understand him. But it was crystal clear in your ears. They make your tears flow down your cheeks, drive your emotions crazy.

“I thought I was doing this for us… I thought it would be best for you. You should be happy. But… But instead, I ruined everything. I let go of the woman who was my sun in my darkness. I loved you more than anyone else. I love you more th-” Sakusa’s words are honest, calm as he utters them, but you interrupt them with a shrill cry.

“Stop it! I don’t want to hear another word! Do you know how bad that was for me? Do you know how much you hurt me? Damn Kiyoomi, I loved you! It took me almost the whole three years to even process that you had left me! And I was so close! So close to finally forget about you! But what are you doing? You come here and slap your apology in my face like all this happened yesterday, for what? What do you want from me, Sakusa Kiyoomi!”

Your voice is loud, yet fragile in his ears, now your words hurt him like a thousand stabs. He did everything wrong. He had made you unhappy. But why does it hurt him the most that you almost forgot him? He had to think of you at any time, not even in a dream, to erase you from his memories.

The time passed, the sky turned almost black. He doesn’t see your tears, but he hears your trembling voice fighting your sniffing. Your voice continues to pounce on him, you tell him louder and louder how much he hurt you and at no time does he try to interrupt you.

But you become silent, and he speaks. “Y/n? Do you still love me?” he asks seriously, trying to sound as calm as possible, even though he is afraid of your answer. “Damn it, Kiyoomi…” You breathe now that you can’t hold back your sniffing.

How can this one question put you back in the time of three years ago? Make you realize you still love him? But you don’t tell him. You just sense how his body moves. A draft of wind tells you that he is thinking of taking you in his arms, but the warmth that was on your body for a moment disappears as if he had changed his mind.

Even though you’re still mad at him, even though you’ve been trying to forget him all along, it doesn’t feel right to sit next to each other in silence. But you don’t want to forgive him so he can hurt you again.

“I never stopped loving you Y/n. But I can understand if you don’t feel that way anymore. I’m really sorry if I interrupt you by forgetting about me… It’s stubborn of me to tell you I want the time back where I would have just kissed you now, where we would have gone home together, laughed and cried.”

With his words, everything in you constricts even more tightly, your loud beating heart becomes heavier when you straighten up and look for your mobile phone in your pocket to find your way home in the dark.

“You’re right, it’s stubborn.” Your sad voice only sounds softly as you turn on the light to leave, but Sakusa’s hand pushes yours down. Your belly tingles as you feel his other hand on your shoulder, his body only half a step away from yours.

“I know I’m not in a position to ask, but if you really want to go now… I’ll feel much better if you let me walk you home… Just one last time. Please.” You hear he is serious, that he too is struggling to keep his voice strong.

You know full well that if he accompanies you now, you will never forget him. That your feelings will come back again and that you want nothing more than to feel him on your body, to feel his love. But instead of refusing, other words leave your mouth.

“I can’t stop you from going back with me, can I?” You laugh sadly, but Sakusa doesn’t answer you. He just takes your phone from your hand to hold it forward, so he can brighten the way.

None of you dare say anything to look at the other or touch them. Yet you both search for the warmth. Once on the road, he turns off your cell phone flashlight, gives it to you again before he quickly looks ahead.

You, too, just look into his dark eyes for a moment before your gaze wanders off. Again you are silent. But this time you dare to catch a glimpse, to peek at him, when you notice that his hand, which is usually always in his jacket pocket, now dangles freely at his side.

He used to do that back then. That’s the way he was trying to show you that he was okay with you holding his hand. You’re wondering if all this is just a coincidence, or if he’s doing it on purpose. But your body acts against the fear that rages in you.

Yet your hand approaches his, your fingertips playfully touch his hand before you feel Sakusa’s grip on them. With glowing cheeks you turn your head to the side, do not notice how Sakusa looks at you in astonishment as a slim smile adorns his lips.

He’d like to tell you so much, but he doesn’t know how to start. For a while he thinks about his words, but then you stop, study him with your big eyes, a mixture of fear, pain and hope draws your face.

He notices how the quick moment of hope he had, that everything will be back to normal, is getting smaller. The fear spreads over him. “Kiyoomi? Promise me you won’t hurt me again this time...” He didn’t expect these words. With the words that shatter all his sorrow in one blow, make his belly tingle, make his heart race.

At an incredible speed, he clears the gap between you, letting go of your hand to embrace your face with both hands. His raven-black eyes are powerful, leaving you speechless. “Never. Never, I’ll make you unhappy again. So please, please give me this last chance”, he whispers throaty, his voice weakens when you nod hesitantly, and only a blink later his lips lie on your forehead.

This time, he won’t hurt you again.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #oikawa x reader #sakusa x reader #lovebirds-event

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sagedgeek · 3 years

Text

Jakku

Part 1 of Whispers of Fate (A Rey Djarin fic)

A/N: This is a fic I’ve been toying around with for a while and primarily why I created this account. So here’s my first fic for the Mandalorian/Star Wars fandom! I’m excited to see how it goes. Also, this takes place only a short while before Din finds Grogu. He will definitely come into play in later chapters.

Rating: Gen (Platonic)

Word Count: 4.0k

Masterlist ~ Next Chapter

Jakku.

Din had to admit he was not all that impressed, and he didn’t exactly have high expectations to begin with either. Desert planets had never been his favorite. Primarily because of the heavy armor and thick padding of his under armor’s tendency of trapping sand in places it shouldn’t be possible. After his first time on Tatooine, he’d spent the better part of a day cleaning out the dry sand and repolishing his armor. It also wasn’t very exciting to chase runaway bounties across a deserted planet, hiding somewhere along the repeating pattern of large sand dunes and rural settlements. For most hunters it would be a hopeless endeavor, and that’s why the bounty had such a high price with the guild, but for him it shouldn’t take longer than a day… hopefully.

He ended up having to park the Razor Crest a long way from the only known outpost he could find on the map. The planet was ridden with scavengers, all of which probably desperate for scrap and could care less about potentially marooning a stranger on this maker-forsaken planet. Even this far out Din has doubts he’ll return to his ship in the same condition it’s in. As old and scrappy looking his ship may be, it still flew which meant it was still of value and would result in quite the payday for whatever scrapper may stumble upon it. It’s a better chance than landing at the trading post though, considering the most condensed population of scrappers would be around the very outpost they used to trade their scrap.

Good thing his next bounty is on Maldo Kreis. It would be a nice contrast to the blinding sun and the burn of dry oxygen.

He sighs as he takes one last glance outside the cockpit viewport before powering down the Razor Crest and beginning his trek across this barren planet.

Civilization was scarce and unless this Rodian smuggler was willing to take his chances in the middle of the barren desert, there weren’t many places he could hide.

He follows the fob, wandering out in the direction of the Niima Outpost. So, if he becomes absolutely desperate, the scrappers and traders who supposedly wandered the surrounding desert each day might have spotted a misplaced Rodian during their wanderings and point him in the right direction.

After about an hour of walking, the fob had led him past several scrapped Imperial ships which seemed to be growing in abundance and concentration the closer he came to the settlement. He lifts his hand to adjust his visor view settings to see if he can track a fresh trail of footprints,

Nothing.

He keeps the setting on and continues walking.

He is led in the direction of an old AT-AT, half buried beneath the sand, and there he finds a set of fresh footprints circling the outside that had wandered from the opposite direction. It wasn’t exactly what he hoped to find. The footprints were far too small and humanoid to fit the Rodian he was looking for, but it is the first sign of life he’s found in these outskirts so far. His next best bet would be to continue towards the small civilization further South. So, he scans for heat signatures along the skeleton of the AT-AT and sure enough he finds two. One of which, he assumes, being the owner of the small footprints he just found.

He crouches slightly and pulls his blaster from its holster as he stealthily moves around the walker to keep from drawing attention to his arrival. He ducks into the open belly of the machine, blaster ready. His visor highlights the silhouette of the smaller figure crouched just around the corner, and the other further in, close to where the head must be located.

He senses the incoming attack before it lands and his free hand darts down just in time to catch the staff swinging towards the portion of his gut not protected by his cuirass. He tilts his helmet to the side with a smirk growing across his mouth beneath it as his eyes settle on a tiny little thing with a much too large starfighter helmet jostling around atop their cowl and goggle-covered head. They grunt in frustration, putting their entire body weight into trying to tug the staff out of his grip. He tugs back just enough to rip it from their hands and toss it behind him, out of the way.

“Hey!” And the single word is enough that he can identify the small person as a young child, perhaps female. But the outburst also drew the attention of his arrival to his target. He heard a panicked rustle from the next room over and his head snaps to the side, growling in frustration at the inconvenience.

There goes the element of surprise.

“Get out of here you bug sucker!” A tiny fist collides with the padding over his abdomen and he glances down at his tiny assaulter. He gives a simple shove to their helmet to move the kid out of his way and starts further into the walker to follow the panicked scuffling. He points his fob towards the direction of the noise, and he smiles as he picks up his pace in time with the hurried beeping tone.

This wouldn’t take very long at all.

“Hey! Get back here!” He ignores the kid and leans around the corner to keep his blaster pointed in preparation. He comes around just in time to find the Rodian halfway through a cut out at the side of the head of the walker.

Soon Din’s chasing him across the large sand dunes. It didn’t take much effort, just a few long strides and an easy aim of his fibrecord from his wrist to trip him.

As he finishes securing the cuffs he hears a high-pitched screech just as a hard weight collides into his side. It makes him stumble slightly, and he pulls out his blaster, spinning it towards his attacker as he regains his footing.

“Stand down!” He growls at the young child. They were still wearing that oversized helmet they’d reclaimed their weapon.

“No!” They yell at him, pointing the end of their staff at him threateningly. “Leave him alone!”

Din tilts his helmet to the side curiously, but he doesn’t lower his blaster.

“Is he your father?” He highly doubts it, but it didn’t hurt to ask. Mandalorian’s weren’t the only ones to collect Foundlings… Although for all he knows this kid could have green scaly skin underneath that helmet and oversized tunic.

“No,” she scowls, “I met him yesterday.”

He lowers his blaster and sighs. He reaches down and pulls his captured bounty to his feet, giving him a good push in the direction of his ship in a complete dismissal of the child. They’ll give up soon enough. From his experience, children’s attention spans were extremely thin.

“Doe girl sa insistent.” The bounty mutters to him in Huttese.

Girl… Din notes.

“I can see that.” Din mutters in response. It didn’t take a genius to realize the girl was stubborn and plucky. He knew that when the child tried attacking him, a Mandalorian, with a stick.

“Hagwa hurt cheekta.” the Rodian begged for her, eyeing the twitch of Din’s fingers hovering over his blaster.

Din tilts his head then turns to glance at the girl. “I don’t hurt children,” he replies gruffly, then nods towards the girl to address her. “Go on home kid.”

The girl doesn’t budge an inch, and she doesn’t lower her staff either.

“Ya sa noah wompa tah care che cheekta.”

Din found it amusing that this bantha had the gall to try and guilt him into being released. He wasn’t going to buy into it, and he gave him another push to spur him into a brisk pace forward.

She follows them, because of course she does. She stews for a good while on their journey, but in typical child-like fashion, her curiosity wins over her stoniness and soon she’s peppering him with questions which he promptly ignores, hoping she’d lose interest and go on her merry way.

“Doe girl will nopa leave,” The Rodian muttered, “Mee know.”

“I can understand you y’know Rodey,” the girl quips as she flips the visor of her helmet up and pulls down her goggles to glare at the reptilian humanoid, “I’m not stupid.”

“Karking girl.”

Din shoves him and finally turns around to face the girl with a heavy sigh. “What will it take for you to go home?”

She nods her head at his prisoner. “For him to keep up his promise.”

“And what promise might that be?”

“He say that he’d take me to see his ship and even lemme fly it if I gave him my portions! And now I got no food or water, and I haven’t gotten to seen his ship.”

Maker help him.

He turns his back to her again and continues to walk. He notices that this time the girl’s footsteps don’t immediately pick up behind him like before, and he buckles.

“Come. You can see my ship.” He reluctantly mutters and Din hears her excited gasp and tiny footsteps chasing after him until the girl is trotting passively at his side, the top of her head reaching just below his elbow. She looks up at him from beneath the orange tinted visor of her helmet as if sensing his gaze. She pulls down the cowl covering her face to show off her bright smile, all teeth except the one tooth missing in the front and Din allows the slightest smile to break out in return only because he knew she wouldn’t be able to see it.

***

“WOAH!”

The girl leaps into a quick sprint once they reach the top of the sand dune. The Razor Crest now visible in the distance.

By the time he and the Rodian caught up, the girl had circled the ship at least twice. Her helmet had been discarded near the hangar door which now reveals the messy braid of brown hair falling over her shoulder.

Din lifts his arm to tap a button on his wrist gauntlet and the boarding ramp slowly hisses and begins to lower. Before the ramp even hit the sand, the kid is back beside him, jumping on the balls of her feet in anticipation, her helmet tucked securely beneath her left arm.

“Don’t touch anything,” Din instructs in a gruff tone. She nods obediently and sticks to his side as he guides his bounty up into the hull.

That’s when the Rodian started to get a bit finnicky and he pulled away from Din’s grip, trying to retreat from the ship like he just realized what was happening.

” Mee have credits. Mee can wamma twice myo bounty.”

Din pulls him further into the ship, ignoring his pleads. He gives him one last push backwards and with a final hiss he’s sealed in carbonite.

Job well done.

“Hey! What’d you do to him!” The girl rushes forward, hand slapping against the solid carbonite outline of the reptilian’s leg.

“He’s fine. It’s just to keep him quiet while I fly.”

“Ohh,” she muses, taking a step back and tilting her head to glance at the two other carbonite slabs behind him. She points at them. “Were they noisy too?”

Din shrugs and sits down on a crate near the open ramp to adjust his vambrace. “You could say that.”

That seemed to be good enough of an answer for her and she approached him with the same wide grin from earlier, fists balled up at her side in excitement. “I didn’t like him anyways! I just wanted to see his ship! Can I fly your ship now?”

“No.”

“What?!” She whined. “but you said I could!”

“No. I said you could see it.” He stands up and points to the crate he was just sitting on. “Sit. I’ll make you food.”

She obeys, but only with an indignant huff and a pout. She turned her glare onto the floor and crossed her arms over her chest. It’s silent for a good while as Din heats up some broth for her and he’s surprised to find that he likes it much better when the girl Is chattering rather than silently brooding.

“You got a name?” He asks after awkwardly clearing his throat.

“Rey,” she answers with a huff.

He turns with the small bowl of soup in his hands and offers it to her.

“How old are you?”

“Seven, I think,” she responds as she makes grabby hands for the bowl before promptly slurping it up in just a couple of gulps then handing the bowl back to him. “Thank you, sir.”

“You’re welcome kid.” Din hands her a cup of water as he takes the bowl from her and she does the exact same as she did the broth.

“I can fly you back home. Where do you live?”

“I live in that walker!” Rey exclaims, her excitement growing at the prospect of being able to fly even if she wasn’t at the wheel.

Din pauses and looks at her. “That’s where you live?”

“Yeah!”

He grits his teeth, turning to face her fully. Maybe that Rodian wasn’t lying to pull a fast one on him after all. “Where are your parents? Who looks out for you?”

Rey’s face puckers in thought. “Well, my parents aren’t here right now. They’ll be back though… but um… Unkar kinda looks out for me for now. He gives me rations for good scrap.”

“Where are your parent’s Rey?” Din hopes he doesn’t receive the answer he knows he will. Maker knows he cannot afford to care for a Foundling right now…

Rey shrugs like it’s no big deal. “I don’t know. They didn’t tell me.”

“How long have they been gone?”

“638 Days,” she responds quickly.

Din grunts, grumbling under his breath because of course. Her parents weren’t coming back anytime soon that was a given, they probably sold her off to that Unkar fellow as a slave to earn a quick buck. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence; in fact, it was a familiar story for many Foundlings he’s come across through the years. But to leave a child as young as this one was cruel and disgusting, especially to leave them on a planet the likes of Jakku! Most would never be able to survive, and he wonders how it was possible this girl was able to for as long as she had. He slaps his hand against the control panel on the wall beside the ramp and it slowly raises into place. He moves towards the ladder leading up to the cockpit without another word to her.

“Wait! Mister where are you going?” Rey jumps up to follow him, looking up at him from the bottom of the trail of rungs.

Again, Din ignores her and continues his way into the cockpit. He takes a seat in the pilot’s chair, grinding his teeth together in frustration. He supposed he could just drop her off with the clan when he made it back to Nevarro. It had been a while since any new Foundlings had been introduced considering he was the only one to really leave the covert as of late. She’d be well taken care of, he’s sure. Celebrated even.

He begins flipping through the switches on the control board to start up the engines.

“Sir, are you flying me back to the walker?” Rey asks. For the first time that day she sounded unsure and a bit nervous, but Din is far too wound up by the frustrations of his new predicament to care.

“No. You’re coming with me. Now strap in.”

“What?! No! I can’t leave! What if my parents come back for me and I’m not here?! I have to wait for them!”

Din pauses for only a moment to sigh before continuing about his ritual of prepping the ship for takeoff. “They aren’t coming back for you kid.”

“Huh?”

He turns around when he hears the brokenness in her voice, and he frowns. She clutches her helmet to her chest, chin tucked down to rest against it as tears formed in her eyes. He takes the moment to note that maybe the way he broke the news was a bit too harsh. So, instead of risking saying something else that would trouble her he points to the co-pilot’s seat behind his.

She shakes her head. “What do you mean they’re not coming back? Do you think they died?”

Din didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t well versed when it came to emotions, especially the emotions of children. They were sensitive creatures and were quite unpredictable in his experience. So, instead, he completely veers around the question.

“I will take you back to my clan and you will be well taken care of. I will even look for your people if they are to be found, but I am not leaving you here.” His tone and words weren’t up for dispute and she seemed to understand as much.

She stares at him through glassy eyes but doesn’t utter a word.

Din sighs in resignation, “I’ll let you help pilot the ship.”

Anything to keep her from crying.

Rey’s eyes light up then and her head lifts slightly from where she had hidden it behind her helmet. “Is-is it sandy?” She pauses and when Din tilts his helmet to the side in question, she continues hesitantly, “where-where you would take me… is it sandy there?”

“Not particularly.”

“Okay,” Rey nods slowly, inching towards the seat Din had gestured towards earlier.

***

Rey was a natural at flying. She was eager and a very quick learner. She told him about the training simulator she’d found just a couple weeks back as well as a training computer. So Din taught her a couple advanced things, and her utter fascination when they entered hyperspace was enough to distract her from her earlier woes and able to make him smile beneath his helmet. The streaks passing by through the windshield illuminating her wide, glassy eyes. After an hour or so, her sad demeanor about leaving home had diminished completely and was now fueled with excitement and curiosity at getting to traverse the galaxy for the first time.

So, here he sat, an hour after entering hyperspace, answering question after question with as few words as he could possibly manage.

“Why do you wear that helmet? And all that armor?”

“I’m a Mandalorian.”

“What’s a Mandalorian?”

“We’re Warriors.”

“Cool! I wanna be a Mandalorian!”

“Maybe one day.”

“Where are we going?”

“To Maldo Kreis.”

“Where’s that?”

“A ways away.”

“Are you gonna pick up another guy like Rodey?”

“Yes.”

“Is that your job? Are you a bounty hunter?”

“Yes.”

“Cool,” she was silent for all of two seconds. Which was just enough for Din to release a breath in hopes she had grown tired of asking questions…

She had not.

“What’s your armor made of?”

“Beskar.”

“What’s your name?”

“Mando.”

“Is that really your name?”

Din sighs one final time. His helmet is propped against the head rest in defeat as he tilts it to the side.

“You ask a lot of questions,” he grunts.

The kid huffs and falls back against her seat. “Sorry,” she mutters.

Din stands from the pilot seat and gestures for her to stand up as well, holding out his hand to help her to her feet. “Come. I’ll show you how to use the fresher and then you can sleep until we reach our next destination.”

She’s tentative, but she takes his hand and doesn’t let go as she follows him down into the hull. He shows her how to work the fresher and the stream of water pouring form the wall has her squealing in delight, rushing forward to cup it in her hands and watch it spill over her fingers. He adjusts it to a temperature that would be comfortable for her. Then he does a silent onceover of her clothes and leaves to fetch her something to wear once she was clean. Her current outfit looked to be nothing more than a few rags held together by the wrappings around her wrists and feet and the tie around her waist. He places them on the sink.

“You can put this on after you’re clean. I’ll buy you better garments when we are in Nevarro, but for now this should do.”

Rey nods her head enthusiastically, eager to step into the fresher. Din steps out, the door sliding shut behind him so she could have privacy, and he moves further into the hull to begin preparing his own dinner. He made a point to begin heating up another portion of broth for the little one as well. She could probably do for some added nutrition with how small she appeared for her age.

He didn’t risk taking off his helmet to eat. Instead, he lifted the edge to take occasional sips and by the time he was done and discarding his empty bowl, Rey was stepping out of the fresher with sopping wet hair still done up in her messy braid and a wide grin on her face.

“That was so fun!” She exclaimed. “I’ve never done that before.”

She wore the large upper half of his old flight suit sinched to fit around her waist using the ribbon and the trousers she’d arrived in. The thick material barely fit over her small frame, the collar just barely managing to hang on her shoulders. Mando doesn’t say anything in response and simply holds out the fresh bowl of broth he’d just heated up.

Rey stared at the offered portion with wide eyes. “More?” She asked as if she couldn’t quite believe he was really offering it to her.

“Yes. You need to eat.” Din states with his arm still outstretched towards her.

“But I already ate.”

“I want you to eat more.”

Rey gave him a stink eye, lips pursing in suspicion. “You aren’t trying to plump me up to eat me or somethin’ are you?”

As amusing as the accusation was, Mando’s tone remained unamused. “No. Now drink.”

She takes it from him and greedily gulps it down like she was afraid he’d change his mind and Din begins to feel guilt remembering his original intention of leaving her behind to starve on that scorched planet. He’s glad he found her, she’d make a strong Mandalorian one day and she’d do the tribe proud. They would take good care of her.

He stands to begin making up a bed for her on the floor. He gathers as many blankets and cloths he could find, knowing Kreis would be far colder than what she was used to.

She’s at his side in a matter of moments, looking down at the warm cocoon of blankets he’d built on the floor.

“Time to sleep little one,” he tells her, balanced on one knee as he pulls back several layers of blankets for her and gesturing for her to climb beneath. She scrambles over to hurry and snuggle herself beneath the mound of soft blankets and Din gently settles the cloths back over her shoulders. She yawns, hand snapping up to cover her mouth as her eyes squeezed shut for a moment before they opened once more to blink up at him with a tired smile.

“Thank you Mr. Mando.”

“You’re welcome, kid.” He shuffles awkwardly, adjusting the blankets again before standing upright. “Do you need anything?”

She looks up at him anxiously, chewing on her bottom lip. “Ummm not really… but um… can I ask you one last question? I swear I won’t ask no more!”

Din sighs and nods his head.

“Why wouldn’t you leave me on Jakku?”

He pauses as he searches for the right words to explain it to her as he taps a button on his vambrance to dim the lights of the hull. She had no family and no proper home. By creed he was honor bound to take her. No Mandalorian could leave an abandoned child behind. They were Foundlings… and he was once a Foundling.

“This is the way.”

That was the way.

~ Next Chapter ~

#the mandalorian #fanfic #rey djarin #rey skywalker #the mandalorian adopts rey #din djarin #platonic #fluff #mandadlorian #rey and mando #jakku #the mandalorian season 1 #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian au

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masterjedilenawrites · 3 years

Text

May the Books Be With You: Din Djarin and Grogu

Welcome to May the Books Be With You, a bookstore that is simultaneously cozy and crazy, located in all times and all places, housing a multitude of words and pages. As the store owner, you take pride in finding the perfect story for any creature that makes its way through your doors. Whether it's a historical narrative for an amphibious Jedi, a calming romance for a battle-weary clone trooper, or a fun collection of children's poems for a new Mandalorian father... Your store has it all, and you are more than eager to help every patron walk away with their next happily ever after.

Din Djarin and Grogu

It had been a rather slow day for you, the kind that usually made you restless and just a little mad. It hardly surprised you this time of year, with the weather being so nice and the trade season starting to pick up. It was not the best time to hunker down with a book. But that understanding did not help pass the time by any easier. You wished you had saved your weekly shelf dusting for today. Instead, you had squeezed it into the same day as you'd stocked the new shipment and paid the utility bills, like a dumbass.

By mid-afternoon, you had completed yet another round of pacing through the shelves, realigning books that weren't actually askew, pretending you hadn't seen some of the titles before and skimming the first few pages. You made your way back to the front counter and let yourself bend over it with a frustrated huff.

Stretching yourself over the wooden surface felt nice. Just as you were starting to think maybe you could try some yoga moves, there was the familiar jingle of the little bell on the front door handle. You jolted upright, hoping the customer hadn't noticed you unprofessionally, and probably unflatteringly, contorting yourself over the counter.

"Good day," you smiled up at the unusual figure standing awkwardly in the entrance. He was entirely clad in what looked to be beskar armor, with a shiny helmet, flowing cape, straps of ammo across his chest, and what looked to be some sort of weapon poking up from behind his back. He had a bag slung over one shoulder, and nestled in the crook of it by his hip, was a little green creature.

You knew from your perusal of certain demographic books that your customer of the day was a Mandalorian. The T-shaped visor alone was indication enough, but you were aware of the significance of beskar, too; Mandalorian iron, it was sometimes called out in these parts. It was also safe to assume that he was some sort of bounty hunter.

But the creature at his side gave you pause. You were sure you had seen its kind before, but you couldn't pinpoint any specific names or memories. Whatever its species, it sure was adorable. Its eyes blinked slowly while its large ears quirked from side to side as it took in its surroundings. It held a curiosity that most of your customers tended to have, despite it seeming so young. You felt your smile lingering as you gazed at it.

The Mandalorian took a few hesitant steps inside, turning his helmeted head around slowly.

"Can I help you find anything?" you asked, used to this kind of behavior. Sometimes people came into your quirky little shop with a purpose, while others simply ended up there, unsure why they felt compelled to enter, and unable to walk away. As if pulled in by a magical force.

The Mandalorian shifted. "Um, I was hoping to find something for the little one."

His voice was filtered through his helmet, but you could still hear the shyness, how he carefully enunciated his words, how he seemed to be hiding his true nature.

You came from around the counter, still beaming at the "the little one" in the pouch. Its face titled up at you and its little hands grasped at each other in comfort.

"Did you have anything in mind?" You looked between creature and helmet, hoping one of them would give you something useful to go off of. You had a knack for finding the right book for the right person, but you needed some kind of starting point.

The Mandalorian shrugged. "Some kind of activity? Something to keep him busy, so he stops messing with the buttons on my ship."

He said the last part more quietly, like he didn't mean to be upset about it but still found it tiresome. You briefly wondered what their connection was. It wasn't often you saw a bounty hunter toting around a kid, and of a vastly different species, no less.

But you pushed that thought aside so you could consider the challenge at hand. An activity book....

"This way," you said after a beat, as you headed down an isle toward your left.

The shelves weren't arranged in a pattern, and the books on them weren't in a logical order, either. You liked it that way. It ensured you would always be needed.

You snaked through a few rows before arriving at your destination, the Mandalorian and his little friend directly behind. You stooped to wiggle out a thin book from one of the lower shelves and splayed it open between you and your customers.

"Maybe something like this?" you asked, slowly flipping between the pages so he could see. Each page was a photo of a whole mess of random objects; brightly colored marbles and unique figurines and letters in funky fonts and countless other items that made for an interesting landscape.

"There's prompts to find certain objects," you explained, "but even if he can't read, it's still fun to look at.

The Mandalorian brought the satchel around and you lowered the book so the child could see it.

"What do you think?" the Mandalorian asked him. The child cooed and held his hand out at it, his eyes unblinking as it scanned over the open page. The Mandalorian chuckled a little. "Looks like we'll take it."

You happily handed the book over, but you didn't feel fully satisfied. You squinted your eyes into the distance, feeling like there was more this odd duo could use.

"Do you read to him?" you asked, though you didn't wait for an answer. You headed off down the isle and turned the corner.

"I don't really have the time..." the Mandalorian said. He pulled up as he came around the corner and found you crouched at the end cap.

"Here," you said, having found what you were looking for. You didn't display it this time, passing it to him confidently. "It's a book of poems. Nothing fancy or weird. They're really cute. Most are short, too, so it'll fit into your busy schedule."

You winked playfully, but couldn't tell if he'd noticed or was looking at the book instead. He opened it and carefully thumbed through the pages with a gloved hand. You added, just as an extra selling point, "Most kids like being read to. It's comforting. Helps them grow."

The helmet titled up a bit and nodded at you.

"Okay."

Maybe you were imagining it, but he sounded just a little excited. You held back a self-satisfied grin and instead looked down at the kid in question. The Mandalorian followed your gaze and you both noticed the creature had pulled a book off the shelf next to him. He somehow seemed even more enamored with this one than he had the other book.

"What do you have there?" The Mandalorian angled the book to get a better look at the cover and you laughed. It had the silhouette of a man's head covered in chainmail. You suspected it reminded the kid of his own armor-clad caretaker.

"It's a story about a hero defeating monsters and becoming king of the land," you explained. "It's been translated from a very old language, so it might be difficult to read aloud. But it's a good story, so might be worth it."

The Mandalorian sighed. "Then I guess we'll take that one too."

He fished out some coins from his pocket and deposited them into your hand. You followed the pair back to the front of the store, wishing you'd found a way to keep them here longer, but recognizing the life of a bounty hunter meant keeping on the move.

"I hope you two find your way back here again someday," you said in parting. The Mandalorian paused with a hand on the doorknob, his helmet glinting in the afternoon sun that poured through the windowed doors. "I'd even watch the little guy for you, if you needed."

The Mandalorian chuckled, a soft and pleasant sound. "I just may take you up on that offer. Thank you for your help."

He gave you one last nod as he pushed through the doors. You tried waving at the child, but he was too busy cooing at all his new books. You watched as they made their way down the street and out of sight, and then turned back toward your empty store.

Now, about that yoga....

Book Inspiration:

I Spy: A Book of Picture Riddles, Scholastic publishing

Where the Sidewalk Ends, by Shel Silverstein

Beowulf, translation by Seamus Heaney

AO3 link

#star wars #star wars fanfiction #the mandalorian #din djarin #grogu #din djarin & reader #grogu & reader #reader insert #bookstore au #books #may the books be with you #anthology #one shot #repost because tumblr ate my other one

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risingsouls · 3 years

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Recruited: Chapter 11

[Another chapter in the books! This one runs parallel in time to the last (which will be pretty obvious) and has a little more action! So enjoy, have fun, etc.

And don’t forget: you can find the rest of this series and soem of my other BS for this blog here!]

Nabooru

Their trio of space pods burst through Noya's atmosphere and slammed into the surface, a triangle of craters left in their wake. Nabooru replaced her scouter on the side of her face, a press of the button causing the yellow characters to flash across the orange glass as it started back up. She opened up the door and floated out of her pod, touching down on the maroon dirt. A teal, creeping vegetation sprawled over it as far as the eye could see. In the distance, she noted the silhouette of a city or village and a range of mountains beyond it.

She stretched and glanced to her side as Nappa and Raditz joined her, both working out the kinks in their own joints from the long trip. "Awfully quiet here. Where do you think that team is? Hope they didn't kick the bucket before we got here," Nappa said, popping his knuckles. "Maybe it means we'll get a good fight out of these guys if they're calling in reinforcements."

The repetitive pings of a scan sounded from Raditz's scouter. "I wouldn't get my hopes up," the other Saiyan replied, turning around to check the other direction. "I'm not getting a single reading, save for five decent ones off in that direction."

He nodded opposite the mountain range. "Make that three."

Nabooru raised an eyebrow and began her own scan, Nappa following suit with a huff. "You're fucking with us. Why the hell would we be called here if they didn't need us?"

"No, he's right. I'm only getting those three readings, too. That must be the team we're meant to rendezvous with."

Raditz flew up several meters and gazed around. "Looks like something went down over there," he called down to them. "Might have been a settlement or something. Doesn't look like there's much left now."

"Let's go check it out. Something feels off here."

Nabooru followed Raditz and Nappa to the site of what could have potentially been a compound of sorts, a decent sized village, or something else entirely. The damage sustained in the area made it difficult to tell, the edifices reduced to little more than a half foot of wall at best. Scorch marks and craters dotted the area, and they could hardly walk a few feet without finding a corpse or the remnants of one. Each had a variant of blue skin, ranging from near white hues to navy. A few wore what she guessed were plain clothes, while most sported a sort of white armor. Soldiers. Most of the bodies were heavily mutilated, physically torn or shot with concentrated ki blasts to pieces, others sporting deep gashes as if from claws. Maroon soil was stained with emerald blood. Fresh.

"I thought I recognized that power level." Nappa squatted down next to a corpse missing every limb. The lower half of its skull had been crushed as if beneath someone's foot. "Looks like Shikoo and his team's work, don't you think, Raditz?"

"Seems that way. Doesn't seem like they need our help, though. And they never have before." His frown deepened. "Maybe it's some kind of trap."

Raditz vocalized Nabooru's growing fear as each piece of evidence seemed to confirm the theory. "Who's Shikoo?" she asked, turning her attention from the massacre and back toward the direction in which their scouters pinged the readings. Two of the power levels weren't much and would hardly be a challenge for even Raditz. But the third was more powerful, and while only around Nappa's power level, her insides squirmed. Why would they be sent here if this team had everything under control? Was there some secret of this planet they weren't privy to that presented a danger they couldn't handle?

"One of Frieza's favorites, and I'm sure you can see why. What the guy lacks in power he makes up for in brutality and dirty tricks," Nappa told her, folding his arms over his chest. "Makes us Saiyans look soft. But I'm sure you've seen the guy. He's bigger than me, looks like a cross between some kind of reptile and a dog. Red fur and scales. Loud and brags constantly."

Nabooru's brow furrowed and she clicked her tongue. "Mm, yes I've seen him around the base once in a while. Never considered him important enough to learn his name, especially after he and his idiots tried to force themselves on me back when I first started on the force." The corner of her lips quirked upward in a malicious smirk. "He didn't take being turned down very well. But I took care of him and made it clear he should leave me alone."

Raditz chuckled. "Good. The blowhard deserves all the beatings that come to him. Especially for that shit. Nappa and I may have heckled you for a romp in the sack, but he's so full of himself, of course he would try to force his ugly ass on you. I hope these guys took him down a peg or two."

"Confirms the rumors anyway," huffed Nappa. "Guy's disgusting. Pretty pathetic when you gotta resort to force to get off. Guess he ain't much of a charmer, no surprise there."

She kept her surprise about their stance on rape to herself. Considering the violent nature and disregard for life, their history of taking what they wanted by force, rape didn't seem like it would be far off the table for them. Both the Saiyans with her had taken her refusals without much hassle, so she supposed it shouldn't have with at least these two. A point of respect for them, at least, considering the rampant trouble they had with men attempting such with her people back home. As a race of all females and how their style of dress revealed far more skin than Hylian garb, men had a sense of entitlement to Gerudo women, and seemed to believe that meant they were asking for it.

"I suppose we should contact Frieza," she said at last, reaching up to her scouter and selecting the proper channel. "Let him know what we found and what we're meant to do instead."

Once the scouter connected successfully, Frieza greeted her before she could open her mouth to speak: "Ah, what good timing, Nabooru. You have landed on planet Noya and met with the other team there?"

"Yes, my lord. But we are confused. When we landed, we found the planet had already been successfully purged of its in--"

"Yes, yes, I am aware of the success in purging the planet. The instructions to rendezvous with the soldiers sent to Noya were...purposefully vague. The task for you and the Saiyans is to kill that team. Don't worry your pretty head over why, dear. It's unbecoming of a soldier. Their punishment has been a long time coming."

He broke the connection before she could confirm her understanding, but by the questioning expressions in her comrades' faces, her own revealed her opinion on the troublesome news. Surprised wasn't the right word for what she felt. Frieza was known for orders that felt out of place or cruel. Unwarranted and harsh. But piecing together their situation, Nappa's words, and the fact that they had been split from Vegeta only further impressed upon her a sinking feeling of dread. She less suspected a trap for them than viewing it all as one for Vegeta, a "favorite" of Frieza's like Shikoo. Or if it was one for them, was this a precursor to the orders Vegeta would be handed? To end his team and allies in the rebellion they plotted?

"What'd he say?" Nappa asked at last, snapping her out of a spiral of paranoia and back to the task at hand.

"He means for us to kill Shikoo and his crew."

"Really?" Raditz's brow furrowed. "What did they do?"

"He didn't say. Just that their punishment was a long time coming."

The Saiyans exchanged a look of disbelief with a hint of concern. Nabooru wondered if they considered the same possibilities as her. If they wondered if some other team or Vegeta and Frieza themselves lay in wait to off them, too. As much as she wanted to ask, she didn't know who could be listening. And they had a job to do. If anything followed this, they would have to face it once they dealt with Shikoo and his cronies. The memory of them offering to help her find her way back to the barracks and then cornering her, how they tried to touch her anywhere they could reach and tugged her hair, their taunting words from how pretty she was and how good she probably felt to insulting her lack of control of her ki yet. Maybe she didn't back then, but her strength proved enough to subdue the three of them and send them to the hospital ward. She escaped their disgusting behavior, but how many hadn't, if what Nappa said rang true?

Back then, she still tried to cling to her no killing rule for her sanity and her ignorance to the sort of backlash killing fellow soldiers would have. But now she not only had permission, she had the will to do it. If not only for her own revenge, but for the horrors they inflicted on others, too. This time, she wouldn't hold back. She didn't have to.

Three scouters beeped to signal approaching power levels, and Nabooru couldn't help but snort as the hulking beast Shikoo and his cohorts landed before them.

"Come to see how real soldiers work, apes?" Shikoo grinned at Nappa and Raditz, showing off sharp, yellowing teeth in his elongated, canine-like muzzle. A forked tongue flicked out to taste the air. "Where's your diminutive leader, huh? Someone finally give the prince with no subjects the licking he deserves?"

His cohorts snickered and Nabooru noticed Nappa's fists and jaw tighten with the flare of his temper. "You idiots won't be laughing in a minute." The Saiyan general smirked and cracked his knuckles. "I've been waiting for a chance to stomp you."

The smaller two--an orange skinned male with a too-blonde Mohawk and a weedy, birdlike soldier with beady black eyes--shifted in obvious discomfort under Nappa's threat, but Shikoo remained unperturbed. "Please. You wouldn't dare. Not with my favor with Frieza. The alliance my people have is too precious for him to allow a couple monkeys to pick a fight with me."

Nabooru snorted, but his claims had her mind shifting back to her people. The fate of the Saiyans. "That explains a lot. But too bad for you, Frieza seems to think killing you is more important than whatever deal you and your people have with the empire."

Yellow eyes snapped to her, slit pupils dilating for a moment in recognition. His hackles rose and hair surrounding a line of spikes along his back stood on end. His aggravation melted back to sick amusement and he laughed. "Well, well. I remember you. Come crawling back for that fun I promised you after all, huh?" His attention fell back to Nappa and Raditz. "Taking orders from women now? You Saiyans really are a joke. Guess it is a step up from short, angry, and overcompensating. Easier to look at, too."

"Can we get this over with? This guy's voice is making me sick," Raditz complained. "I'll take the two wimps in the back alone if I have to."

"You're still on that?! What did I tell you?!" Shikoo snarled. "Frieza will have your heads if you try anything!"

"And what did I tell you? Frieza himself sent us here to kill you." A smirk curled Nabooru's lips and she turned her attention to Nappa and Raditz. "You mind if I take him? I'm really kicking myself for not finishing him off all those years ago."

Nappa huffed and folded his arms, making a show of his indignance. "Damn, guess I can't argue with that. Much as I wanna bury this mutt myself, I think you've got a bigger stake." He nudged Raditz. "You take the orange one and I got bird brain." Without waiting for a response, the larger of the two surged forward and slammed his leg into his opponent's side, sending him sailing with a squawk. The general laughed and swept after him. "Try and make this fun for me, birdie!"

Raditz shot a series of magenta blasts toward the other minion who, more prepared for the onslaught than his companion, dodged backward nimbly and blocked what he couldn't with raised arms. "Give him a few good ones for me, won't you Nabs?" He shot her a wry grin and pursued his opponent with ruthless abandon.

“Stupid move on their part, leaving you alone with me,” Shikoo snarled, vicious grin back on his mug. “You don’t have the stomach to kill me. I saw it in your eyes then, and I’m sure you’ll falter again now. And that’s when I’ll finish what I started all those years ago. Maybe I’ll make your monkey friends watch.”

Nabooru rolled her eyes skyward. “Please. I feel so bad for you, I’ll give you a free first hit.” She beckoned him with her index finger. “Come on, big guy. Let’s see if you can do more than just flap your ugly mouth.”

As she hoped, Shikoo snarled at her taunt and lunged. Black claws extended outward and he swiped them toward her throat. Nabooru’s hand shot up and she grasped his wrist, her hand barely covering half of its circumference. He grunted and struggled against her strength. “So you’re a whore and a filthy liar…”

Her grip tightened, and bones crunched beneath her hand. “I’ve kind of proven the first one wrong by turning you down, haven’t I?” She caught his opposite fist. Her smirk widened when his eyes flashed in rage. “But I suppose you’re right about the liar thing.”

"I'll kill you, bitch!" he roared, tugging back in an attempt to free himself.

She held fast, orange energy flaring up around her. After a few more tugs, she released him, forcing him to stumble backward when he lost his balance. Nabooru shot forward and buried her fist in his scaled belly. Shikoo wheezed and doubled over. Head at her level, Nabooru wheeled back and kneed him in the face with bone-crunching force, whipping his head back and sending him wheeling backward once more. Blue blood oozed from his nose and mouth.

"This has been fun." Shikoo seethed as he raised his head again and spat blood on her boots. He shook with his rage, and Nabooru only wished Nappa and Raditz had remained with his crew to witness his embarrassment. She flexed her hand, forming a cylinder of ki in her palm. She wrapped her fingers around it like a hilt and willed it outward, curving and widening it into the shape of a blade similar to those she favored back home. "But I'm tired of playing. You're not really worth breaking a sweat over."

Using his shock at the sight of her ki blade, she shot forward again. She swept the blade downward, tip aimed at the ground between his feet. She brought it back up in a swift arc, between his legs and through his skull, splitting him vertically in half. His responding punch halted mid-swing, and his body fell apart with a stomach-churning squelch and a pair of thuds as each half fell to the ground.

"Geez, Nabs. Did you have to go crotch up? You made me cringe."

Her ki blade dissipated and she rested her hands on her hips. She turned to face Nappa as Raditz rejoined them, neither appearing to have taken too much damage. Raditz looked slightly ruffled with a bloody lip, but otherwise, both defeated Shikoo's goons without issue. "Of course. A disgusting bastard like him deserves it. If I wasn't supposed to kill him, I might have stopped at around his belly button."

Raditz wiped his mouth and grumbled. "Has anyone told you you're terrifying? You've been around Vegeta too long."

"I didn't realize you two were so squeamish," Nabooru snorted. She glanced at Shikoo's split corpse, the glee from her victory short lived as she remembered his claims. How Vegeta was within the tyrant’s clutches and, if Frieza knew what they planned, could be in danger.

"Speaking of Vegeta, what do you think Frieza has him doing?" A subtle attempt to probe their thoughts on the matter while potentially gaining some reassurance. "He's done this before right?"

“Sure. And I didn’t realize you were such a worrywart.” Nappa and Raditz exchanged knowing glances. “I thought Vegeta was just messing with us, but you two really are up to more than just training when you’re left alone with free time, huh?”

Her posture stiffened and heat rushed to her cheeks. “What is that supposed to mean?” She narrowed her eyes and marched over to them. Their grins only widened and she prodded both of them in the chest with her index fingers. “Just because the two of you can’t keep it in your battle suits doesn’t mean we’re a couple of horny teenagers who can’t handle being alone together. We actually want to get stronger unlike you slackers.”

“I have noticed he’s been in a better mood than normal once in a while,” added Raditz, ignoring her. “Sort of confirms that his smug attitude when he told us ‘maybe, maybe not’ last time we asked wasn’t just him messing with us.”

“Makes him a damn hypocrite though. He told us to quit trying. Guess he didn’t want to share.”

“We’re not sleeping together! Ever! Not even once!” Nabooru could kick that idiot for basically bragging to the other two Saiyans. She had faith neither of them would spread it around whether they believed it or not, but their insistence still pissed her off. “We train. That’s it.”

“It’s not a big deal. In fact, I approve. It’s about time the two of you got laid.” Nabooru slapped Nappa’s hand away before he could plop it on her shoulder. He winced. “Besides, it’s beneficial for us all because, like Raditz said, it puts Vegeta in a better mood for a little while. We all win.”

“Maybe he’s just in a better mood because you two aren’t bothering him as much.” She flipped around on her heel. “Can we please just get out of here? Seeing that ugly bastard again did nothing for my mood, and if you two keep this up, I’ll do the same to you as I did to him and make up the most embarrassing stories for your deaths I can think of.”

She heard the two snigger, but they joined her in flight without more of their incessant teasing. It at least distracted her from her paranoia and concern for the prince’s wellbeing outside of the usual sort of abuse or inanity he would suffer in Frieza’s company. A premature assumption, perhaps, but she decided to take at least Nappa’s lack of concern as a good sign. Or enough of one to keep her from fretting until she knew otherwise.

#fic: recruited #tw: rape mention #tw: violence #probably not my best work here #but it was fun to write #nabs beign a bad bish is always good

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julesby10 · 4 years

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i am easy to find

A/N: Hello again! Here’s a very late ShinoMitsu Week Day 2 entry! Prompt was insecurities / healing, taking care of each other.

Slightly more angsty than last time but hey.

Yet again, took inspiration from one of @tanukified ‘s drawings, but the drawing itself couldn’t be farther from what I wrote oops

Rating: G

Tags: Fluff, almost canon compliant, hurt/comfrt, late at night, insecurities

Summary: Shinobu has a tendency to lose track of time, staying up late into the night to work on her notes. Mitsuri is recovering from an injury at the Butterfly Estate.Mitsuri tries to talk Shinobu out of her self-destructive tendencies, but maybe she isn't ready just yet.

AO3 | FF.NET

The hallways of the Butterfly Estate were shrouded in darkness and silence. It was the middle of the night and Mitsuri was being very careful not to make any noise, to avoid disturbing all the other residents who were, supposedly, still sleeping. She usually wasn’t much of a night owl, but she’d abruptly woken up with this weird sense of uneasiness in the pit of her stomach and felt like she needed to get out of the stifling infirmary.

Honestly, she expected to be the only one awake, but a very small part of her wasn’t surprised when she noticed a blade of light coming from under the door of Shinobu’s private study.

Mitsuri should have really gone back to bed, an early morning was waiting for her and she wasn’t even supposed to be up in the first place. Shinobu had very clearly instructed her to rest as much as possible until her shoulder was fully healed. She could feel the bandages brush against the burned skin, but she also knew why Shinobu was awake and she had no intention of leaving her alone.

She headed for the door and carefully slid it open. The room was mostly dark except for the corner where Shinobu’s desk was, her silhouette outlined by the light of a single lantern. She was still wearing her hashira uniform, her haori neatly placed on its stand on the side when Mitsuri was used to seeing it on her shoulders. She cared so much for it and for a reason.

Seeing her at her desk was far from an uncommon occurrence. Shinobu had a bad habit of overworking herself to the point of almost physically collapsing until someone, usually either Mitsuri or Kanao, forced her to rest, sleep, eat. It was a cycle that seemed very hard to actually break. Plus Shinobu was stubborn as much as she was hardworking.

Mitsuri closed the door behind her and took a few steps into the room, fully convinced Shinobu would hear her, as she always did, and scold her for being there. Nothing happened, though, which was odd in and of itself. She got closer to the point she was standing in Shinobu’s peripheral. Still nothing, Shinobu was silently scribbling away at her notes.

“Shinobu?”

Shinobu jumped up from her chair, her pen falling out of her grip and clattering on the ground. Mitsuri looked down with concern in her eyes. Two buttons of her uniform were undone and her sleeves were rolled up which, to anyone else, would have been small details, easy to miss, but to Mitsuri it was a sign that not everything was at it should’ve been. She could count on one hand the times she’d seen Shinobu with a less than perfect attire. And then there were the bags under her eyes and her chapped lips. It looked like she’d been biting on them.

Mitsuri knew first-hand what self-destructive looked like and, even when Shinobu pretended she had it all under control, sometimes it felt like she really didn’t.

When Shinobu registered that it was only Mitsuri next to her she relaxed.

“Heavens, Mitsuri, you scared me.”

She sighed and brought a hand to her temple with a grimace as if trying to keep a headache at bay. Then she lifted her eyes to Mitsuri again and spoke in a rough voice, lower than her usual pitch. Another sign that she was way too tired to be awake.

“What time is it anyway? And why are you up?”

Her notes were scattered all over her desk, countless sheets of paper filled with neat writing, formulas and dosages that would never make any sense to Mitsuri. In all honesty, few could really understand the complicated chemistry Shinobu treaded around so casually. She’d mastered the craft of making poisons to the point where it had become an art. The art of killing.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Mitsuri said softly, placing her hand on Shinobu’s shoulder, dragging her touch over the stiff muscles in her back. “How long have you been up?”

Shinobu seemed to loosen up her posture slightly.

“I don’t know. Yesterday?”

Mitsuri moved her hand to Shinobu’s cheek and Shinobu leaned into the contact, closing her eyes. The small flame of the lantern cast pretty shadows on her skin, but they only highlighted how pale she was.

“Shinobu, it’s almost dawn , you can’t keep doing this to yourself.”

Silence fell between them. They’d talked about this, how pushing herself to her limits was nothing but dangerous. What if Shinobu was suddenly called on an assignment? What if she was too tired to fight? What if she got injured? What if-

“You know I can’t stop,” Shinobu murmured, breaking the quiet. “This is... the only thing I can do.”

Everyone was aware that Shinobu wasn’t physically strong enough to cut a demon’s head off, but no one had ever held that against her. She was perfect with her poisons so there was no reason for critique. Except she didn’t seem keen on thinking the same.

They did share that trait, being too strict on themselves, but Mitsuri had learned to be forgiving thanks to Shinobu and her words, the way she just cared. She had shown Mitsuri that she had value, as a person and not just as a pretty doll to be given away in marriage, that she had no reason to be ashamed of her body or her eating or anything, really. Mitsuri had learned to not resent her strength, she wished Shinobu could learn to not resent her weaknesses either.

Taking another step, Mitsuri pulled Shinobu into a gentle hug. It was at a weird angle, but Shinobu didn’t seem to mind as she gripped the back of Mitsuri’s nightgown. Mitsuri’s heart ached.

“Oh Shinobu, you are so, so much more than the things you can do. I wish you could see yourself the way I see you, how much you mean to me," Mitsuri whispered into her hair.

Shinobu never cried. Shinobu never let down her defenses, except when Mitsuri was there, because Mitsuri was so painfully honest it was hard to hide anything in front of her.

Shinobu didn’t cry, but Mitsuri felt her shake in her embrace, taking deep breaths to calm herself down. The nights that were quiet made it easy to fall apart.

After a few minutes, the room was silent again.

“C’mon,” Mitsuri said, tugging her up and into her arms. "Let's bring you to bed."

Shinobu sighed into the embrace, leaning all her weight into the contact, still careful to avoid Mitsuri’s injured side. If there was one thing Mitsuri was grateful for, it was the way Shinobu had learned, albeit begrudgingly, to lower her walls when it was just the two of them. She loathed feeling weak, yet she allowed Mitsuri to see her when she was not as strong.

“As your doctor, I think you should really go back to the infirmary,” Shinobu murmured in her chest. “But I’ll let it slide this time.”

“As if you’re in any place to say anything about taking care of myself,” Mitsuri retorted, a smile at the corners of her green eyes. The way the light reflected in them was mesmerizing, so much Shinobu could’ve spent the rest of the night like that if only sleep hadn’t been aggressively creeping up her spine. She felt at peace with Mitsuri around.

“Fine, but I’ll need to change your bandages first thing in the morning.”

Shinobu looked beautiful, even with the heavy weight of her worries on her shoulders, even when she was this tired and vulnerable.

“Can’t say no to my doctor, can I?” Mitsuri smiled, then bent down to catch Shinobu’s lips. The kiss was brief, but extremely sweet, as if Shinobu was being careful. Mitsuri didn't have any explanation for that, but, then again, she didn't have an explanation for why Shinobu tasted like flowers either.

When Mitsuri looked again, Shinobu was looking up at her with fondness, a pinch of something Mitsuri couldn't quite recognize in the corner of her amethyst eyes. Sadness maybe?

Shinobu swallowed and her irises seemed to clear. "You know I love you, right?"

Mitsuri smiled softly. "I know," and kissed her again, one hand carefully freeing her hair from the butterfly pin and then placing it on the desk. "And I love you too, so much."

Shinobu smiled then, and Mitsuri knew it was not out of courtesy. It was small, but it was there and it was genuine.

Mitsuri quickly took care of the lantern as Shinobu changed into something that wasn't her uniform. They would need to wake up soon, but it didn't matter, not now. As they lay under the covers, all tangled limbs and warmth, what mattered was that they were together.

As Mitsuri closed her eyes, she noticed the bad feeling that had woken her up was gone.

#shinomitsuweek2020 #shinomitsu #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #shinobu kocho #mitsuri kanroji #kny #kocho shinobu #kanroji mitsuri #kny shinobu #kny mitsuri #kny fic #kimetsu no yaiba fanfiction #my writing

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blankdblank · 3 years

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Hobbit Soulmate Pt 32

“I can’t wait!” Viggo had said that plenty of times and among the guests at this premier he hurried to go claim their seats while you and the cast finished up the press in the front warm hall before heading in to join them. You had seen it, and now all was left was for your friends to finally get a taste of what you had slaved over and was so proud for the world to see. All having paused to inspect right outside the inner theater doors was the one on the poster with the Inspector scowling your way opposite the shadowed figure of your father as the Bard, up front slightly sideways en point you stood with ankles crossed and Richard behind you in caped tux and top hat. His gloved hands easing your Selkie coat over your shoulders eyes fixed on your mournfully distant staring self with palms full of silver coins. The glimmer only egging them on more to have the film start.

Up at a second screen you watched the lights go down for the same opening sequence awing you all over again just like the first time. Soft and slow your Russian lullaby began swelling through the camera being escorted through the lamppost lit cobbled town with violin growing stronger. Names and titles etched into buildings and street and building signs with posters of the shadowy villain wafting on the breeze fallen free from those pasted to walls and fences.

‘There you are, I see you there.’ Low and guttural the Bard growled out a letter scrawled to the police the yet to be seen Inspector is reading. ‘Lost and misused this town has grown weary from Beasts like you. Keep scratching and clawing at the meek and weary, then you will hear me. Keep about your days and savor the moments yet only for so long, once in my clutches your breath ends with my song.’

Another corner turned and following a wisp of silk cloth from within a mist and shadows of milling crowds your body appeared on one foot with violin in hand playing through an en point dance. Enchanting the crowd closer to you and the trio of male dancers taking turns in aiding your flips and lifts, including a split across two dancer’s shoulders while playing. That ended in a drop backwards caught by another dancer hunched forward to support you before his swivel away leaving you in a string of pirouettes stepping back for an exaggerated arch and smirk filled dance. In that once the crowd had grown fled up the steps into the theater with an eager race following your group to the sound of the Inspector growling about the missing citizens and bodies located that had something to do with the traveling troupe now in town. Mid spin a hand off of the violin and bow your skirt tore free rippling out a longer flowing dress for the opening number of the packed show including the freshly arrived Richard who stepped off the freshly arrived carriage who lingered against the back wall at the lack of chairs.

Haunting and alluring through the background the music swelled between the dazzling musical show numbers to glimpses of murders in black and white pictures tacked on a board in the police station and missing person flyers. Steadily while the story of how you were captured by the Ringmaster came with Richard lurking more even in the less crowded theater days scouring for this hiding of your coat. Assuming his own explanation for the murders succubus was misdiagnosed by the avid monster hunting inspector growing angrier by the day as more and more men shown to attack or prey on others were literally torn out of the screen by a large hand and arm.

Gasps came from your friends amazed by the intro sucking them in quick to the gruesome times this film was set in. Each flinching at each snatching and splatter of blood while the lingering plotting gazes only built up tension to what would inevitably come.

Rich did more and more to subtly manage you out of the line of the Inspector who was up to inciting panic and unrest in the already fragile town while sharing more about his own past and painful injury sidelining his dance aspirations. Including the dance scene you had shared about for a slow and trust building show he wasn’t broken like he had been told. Those few sentimental moments shared between the pair of you gave glimmers of hope in the city drenched with nearing frenzy to the rising death count. The music lifted to crescendo through a fight causing a fire in the pub causing just enough reason to send you on a different path avoiding it.

Though nothing prepared them for your attack scene in passing through an alley. From behind a handful of your hair spun you around through a heart clenching gasp to the crescendo of the panic. Breathless the crowd help their breath as the hand clenched around your throat slamming you carelessly into the wall behind you sending a trio of buttons flying and loosening the hair comb once managing your curls seeping out to freedom. Wide eyes full of tears clenched shut at the hard blow sending blood splattering across your cheek and now bared neck causing the Inspector to go flying.

Around your waist to the lull of the Bard’s song hands folded lowering your trembling self to your feet, “Breathe,” he growled out to a hand freeing his own spare clasp on his cloak used to secure the tear in your blouse over your neck with calloused fingers to brush the droplets away. Open eyes again saw clearly the face the camera had yet to see with nearly half of you in his shadow for just a moment in the camera panning back to view his turn away saying, “Go child, walk and leave this beast to me.” Inhaling shakily you turned wetting your lips to the Inspector’s knee top shout to stop ending at the hand gripping his hair and back of his neck dragging him away with great ease while your stroll gained confidence in the rise of your hands to fix your curls back into the comb. In the Bard’s walk away the faintest flicker of purple eyes and raven curls under the brim of his hat seen passing reflected stream from a lantern gave a nod to why he might have been trailing your traveling troupe.

Silence in the crowd seemed to set in at Richard’s frantic discovery of you while the Ringmaster screamed for his fleeing creatures to return. All your things were packed and with him and refusing to stay having heard his heart wrenching plea side by side you sped to catch the final train. Upon which the duet with you and him ‘Down Below, My Bedfellow’ began to play again tightening Richard’s hand in yours through the sea of muted misty eyed viewers at the night view of the lit city the train was speeding from to his hummed answer to your whisper of where you would go from here. “To the sea,” around your shoulders the formerly unnoticed coat that was stolen from you tears prior was smoothed over by his hands.

A quiver of your lips came with evident instant grateful tears in your eyes, hands lifted to clench the ends of that coat shimmering in its melt around your torso drawing it to a close in a sliding shot shifting to follow him. One of the cars containing a bathed and properly dressed Bard given away by the braided back curls and purple eyes reading a book following his path to your car. Past the main hall to your shared car he went finding a pitcher of water making him hastily close the door and tug at his cravat. Loosening that and his collar to his lustful gaze at the pitcher gills easing open on his neck left him groaning fighting his same urge he felt each time near liquids through the film he always refused or avoided. A couple outside the door had his hand easing his collar tighter and free hand tugging one of your scarves down to coat the pitcher that wafted to fold over it in his plop onto his bench seat. There he retied his cravat in time for you to be seen outside the car door you eased open to slip inside and shut behind you again. Across from him you sat with eyes locked on his to the swell of the song in the pitch black of a tunnel flickering to an image of a secluded shack by the sea on a small island your eyes scoured over blind to his adoring gaze fixed on you.

From inside a cottage the pile of bags were seen along with the pair of you walking to the shore through the window with the well dressed Bard following at a distance. Once barely at the water fear crept into your eyes looking between him and the sea until his silent tug on the cravat he let float away on the breeze to fold back his collar exposing the gills open at his feet covered in the lapping waves. Up you sprung with arms fixed around his neck spreading his smile in the moment of foreheads touching, his arms fixed around your back to a silent chuckle in his turn lifting your legs to his side walking you deeper into the water down to his chest where the sunrise caught the silhouette of a chaste kiss. Broken by the cut to bubbly navy blue background of the credits an animated seal and fish monster swimming through the seas and surfacing as they pleased to share that cottage and possibly raise a family was the makeshift epilogue to the couple’s future with glimmers of a second larger seal seen to mingle on the edges.

A shriek was a warning from Miranda and you were engulfed in a tight hug. “I love it I want to see it fifty times,” she stated making you giggle into her shoulder to the medley of compliments given by the others that in her release to hug Richard and your father they took their chance, wrapping you in proud hugs as well sharing their favored moments all the way to the after party. The lot of them keeping as much time as they could with you through that evening and the next two between your explorations and assigned interviews in this gorgeous city with your group. Almost always tangled in Richard’s arms or having hold of his hand treasuring this first time here together as a couple. Pictures were a must and already surely a box of disposable cameras had been filled from all the pictures taken that once filled had been mailed to England to yourselves to be developed there upon arrival, all which Chris had been collecting from Richard’s place there.

Tight hugs for your grandparents weren’t the norm but the formerly standoffish pair had been melting into their newer roles a bit closer to openly affectionate spontaneously, still needing some practice no doubt but enjoying the stolen hugs from you all the same. “You are an unrivaled masterpiece,” your grandmother said in her second parting hug.

While your grandfather said, “Go knock them dead, my Little Bubble.”

Both smiling teary eyed on their steps back to head to the airport to fly back to Russia on their private jet while you joined your friends in a van to head to the airport for the plane you were packing to head to England. At least in all this the Armitage brood was glad to have you back in time for New Years and the party Margaret was holding amongst their family members in town.

Once seated across from Karl, Bernard and Miranda on the plane with the window blind shut you stole a glance at your dad ready to break into his nap and softly said, “You don’t have to come to the New York premier too I’d you want a break.”

His head turned with spreading sleepy grin to rumble, “Me and my Pumpkin are in a film together you couldn’t pry me away from that premier. Gonna see it as many times as I can for free before it comes out on tape. Get all the details soaked in before the brood back home get to watch it and the tsunami of questions come.” Making you giggle and loop your hand around his arm letting him settle in through the take off to get some sleep to greet Rich’s family when you got to town post taxi ride.

On the aisle you sat letting the guys nap as Karl closest to you chatted with you until he inevitable droop of his head and you shifted to curl up against your father’s arm. The sound of a can being opened stirred you however even underneath Bernard’s scarf alerting you to the stewardess there with the snack trolley who smiled as your dad said, “Got your snacks already pumpkin,” accepting his selection after having passed Richard’s his.

Miranda asked, “Do you want stromboli when we land? I have the biggest craving for some good Italian food right now.”

Richard said, “I know a good place of you still want when we’ve landed. Priced well too.”

“I think I want pasta fagioli.”

Karl, “What is that?”

“It’s a soup. Pretty good and you get these breadsticks and dunk it in there and it’s so good and the salt and butter from the bread adds to it. I could use a few bowls of that.”

Bernard, “I haven’t had a good rattatouli in a while.”

Martin scoffed, “Lasagna. None of that crumbled cheese though, just meat sauce and noodles, I’ll take five pounds of that.”

Hugo, “Don’t tempt me I go broke on lasagna when I go out.”

Viggo however said, “I might just have five helpings of cake. Anything with chocolate really. Got to get my fix in before my boy flies out.”

“He didn’t come last time for school?”

“Oh no, his mom’s mom had a party. Wanted a special picture with him. Plus this way we can run through Sherwood and it’s not such a long flight for him he tends to get bored on a full day flight.”

Martin, “I think everyone but Gimli gets bored on full day flights.”

“I like to nap and no one interrupts your reading up at night.”

Hugo, “Dickens again?” He asked eyeing the book you’d tucked at your side. “Looks like a thinner copy.”

“Wives and Daughters actually. Working my way through Gaskell to get to North and South.”

Miranda, “Don’t think I’ve read those yet.”

“Ohh you really should. So much mutual pining and clashing egos and romances thwarted by social standing. Just lovely.”

Viggo on his way to the bathroom asked, “Richard like to cuddle up with you when you read those or do you hide them for when he sleeps?”

That made you giggle, “They’re making a mini series of North and South actually in the first few months, and you are speaking the Margaret herself.” Making him smirk, “And my teddy bear is my brooding rejected suitor slash rival turned fiancé. I think you’d like it.”

He said, “Let ya know when it’s on. It’s for tv right?”

You nodded, “BBC. Shouldn’t take too long, and if it succeeds then I can use that as a buffer if Fox drops the show they signed me to.”

Bernard, “Why would you sign on to a show they might drop?”

“Lee asked me. Puppy dog eyed me for weeks to audition and damnit if I wasn’t talented I got the damn thing.” Making the group chuckle, “It’s got a cute back story really it’s just sort of, niche, it most likely won’t be an across the board rager like Friends or Looney Tunes. Fox isn’t known for fully backing their odd projects though. But it’ll be fun while it lasts.”

Richard muttered after chewing his mouthful of pretzels, “You’ll be magnificent. We all have odd pieces for the screen. Helps to build your portfolio.”

Hugo, “Yes, that, listen to him. You keep the faith in your little engine of a show they’re putting shows in box sets now no telling even if they cut it off air you’ll have fans who will demand it.”

Craig said after finishing off his coffee, “Plus it’s time with your friend. Who we get to see on film since he’s been hiding for so long.”

That made you giggle again saying, “He’s not hiding, just busy. Got some work for funds from now till we start to film out in Canada. He underestimated the budget to keep two apartments afloat.”

That made your dad chortle, “Been there.”

Richard said, “Just glad I own my place or keeping the flat up in Canada would be a bit thin.”

“I could help,” you said looking his way making him shake his head.

“Nope, I’ve got the rent, but you can feed us and help to find deals on furniture.” Making you smirk at the fair deal.

Craig, “You still have that little place up in New York?”

“I got bumped up to a slightly bigger little place, but ya, one and a half bed.”

Viggo, “Half bed?” He asked on his way past you to his seat.

“Ya, it’s a small room not big enough for a bed frame so we just laid some mattresses out. I think it’s meant to be a walk in closet or something.”

Viggo chuckled at that, “Ah, that’s what Karl meant.”

Karl, “It’s adorable I said nothing but nice things.” He said turning to give Viggo a pointed stare only making the actor laugh again.

Bernard, “Are houses expensive there?”

“Not if you don’t mind living on the floor to not spend money on anything but paying it off. Brooklyn and Queens are cheaper, but Dad likes me in lower Manhattan in his friend’s building.”

Your father, “He keeps an eye on her. Though with these new roles he’s got a Brownstone we could look at. Needs some fixing and maybe you can rent the basement apartment to Lee, plus I wouldn’t be just down the hall I could have my own floor, with a big tv.”

That made you smile, “You said my tv was fine I suggested getting a new one.”

Your father, “One that I am not lugging up and down those damn stairs when you move it in and then move us out. Plus then I can spring for cable.”

Martin, “You don’t have cable?”

“I got some rabbit ears.” Making him and a few of the guys chuckle. “Get most of the same stuff for free. Bit blurry no telling what the host of Wheel of Fortune looks like with his face all smudged all the time but highly doubt I’d find him in person anyways.”

Craig, “I have rabbit ears at my place in California no judgment here.”

Viggo, “I just couldn’t imagine sports on that.”

Your father said, “It’s bad. I go down to watch in the office. Plus then she can watch what she likes while we hang out.”

Random conversations ebbed and flowed through the rest of the flight until at the baggage claim. Richard called ahead to his cousin who worked at the Italian place who shut off the back room and got the tables all prepped with a corner for your bags leaving just a crowd of people and cameras watching your grouping off to fit into taxis to head that way. Well fed the plan was clear to meet up the next day before the premier opening lunch as usual with the rest of the cast where they would brag endlessly on the film amping up expectations of the others to see it finally and then you split.

On foot you found your way to Richard’s to plop onto the couch and let your dad choose a show to watch before heading to the Family home for their gathering. Answering emails and voicemail messages you caught up post flight in that break cuddled to your dad’s side as long as you could relaxing until your hand ploped on your lap in a sigh.

Lowly your dad asked, “What’s that for?”

“I forgot to squeeze Red Dragon in before I left New York.”

Richard said, “We can go day after tomorrow. Chris said he wanted to watch it again. His lady kept jumping and they had to go when she tried to go hide in the bath halfway through.”

“And, he wants to go-,”

Richard chuckled out, “Without her.”

Earning nods from you and your dad, with the latter saying, “No problem, you guys can go and have a cuddle date with him. Prefer my Hannibal films on tape. Plus then I can shop. Someone is not avoiding their 23rd.” Making you cuddle more to his side for the rest of the time you had left.

Comments and praise did explode through the cast with those having to wait until the US premier on the verge of pouting at having to wait longer than the others. While Christopher and Ian both treasured they had the big day just another night away. From another stunning dress to the final emerald velvet long sleeved dress with lace filled cutouts down the ribs away from the microphones to the forefront with the more notable faces smiling to your beaming anxious self stealing glances of you in interviews on their way in. Again you and Richard both were sent to promote the film here at the crack of dawn with just the magazine shoot scheduled the following day as you ignored the phone buzzing on silent in your pocket from friends in England and your grandparents back in Russia sharing how the film had been exploding in France and Europe after you had left at its opening to theaters sure to be matched here.

Already it was pushing a profit of double what had cost to film it after passing the initial aspired to 17 million covering all those costs and it didn’t show signs of stopping yet. Beside the Director you smiled alongside the cast while Peter smirked rehearsing his plot again in his mind of what he was set to do when the news finally broke on King Kong. Leaving all that until hopefully when your film was out in England and the producers could just see what you could do and have more to go off of past your age and tiny speaking roles yet to date outside of being Gimli. They just had to wait and see and then they would understand why he had kept bringing up your name.

“I have no words,” Howard managed to stammer out with hands at his sides in the hall just outside he theater once the crowds had filed out to the cars to head to the after dinner. That score was perfection, and I wept at that final song. I am so proud of you. Don’t ever doubt what you created was less than a masterpiece. So proud, I am to have helped you get to that astonishing work of art.”

Christopher said, “And you did not let the role own you. You shone through it masterfully. It would have been so easy to cower back into the typical damsel in distress. It was electric, the hair on my arms is still on end from that snatch of your hair.”

“Genius, Darling girl, pure genius.” Ian smirked saying, “And Richard, that little grimace at the pitcher, very subtle and very poignant all the same. A masterful role from you as well.” His eyes shifted to you as you eyed Peter and Fran whispering on their way out of the theater where hey had lingered a few minutes and he asked, “Everything alright? I don’t believe I could handle another of our crew out of sorts. Peter has been acting strange already.”

“He has?” You asked looking to Ian again not seeing the couple smiling widely in their path over to your group. “Something is afoot,” he added in a whisper tapping the side of his nose in a sign to keep it amongst yourselves.

He didn’t know how right he was, as several hours prior at daybreak Peter had gotten the call he had been waiting for, a formal notice from Naomi’s team that she would be pulling out and Peter was the second to know. The first being the producers who were gathered up in a meeting to call him and instruct him as he already knew to audition again. “Perhaps we could call Kate Winslet’s people again see if we can shuffle some things around to fit her into our filming schedule. Peter-,” his huff said it all and eyes rolled not needing another ego in this arena of bulls requiring a simple solution.

“Or you could simply promote Jaqi Pear from stunt double to lead actress and give her Naomi’s previous package.”

“Listen, about the girl-,”

Peter cut him off, “No, months ago you refused to even let me audition her based on her being barely 22 well I have a few numbers for you. Beast of Bards cost roughly 16 million to film and in one night it earned that back, just in Eastern Europe and Asia. Now that it’s out in Paris and Europe as well it’s made double what it cost to make since then and it still hasn’t opened in England, Canada or the States.”

Mouths had dropped open and one managed to ask, “You’re sure in those numbers?”

“Yes, and they are still climbing. The Ring that has Naomi in the lead has barely scraped 15 million in profits. Numbers alone she deserved to get to audition months ago. The film will be out in England at midnight, you go and buy tickets and watch the film. Listen to the crowd and make your decision off her performance in that to see her in action as a lead. Then you have a meeting and go over it thoroughly and tell me your decision. She has the physical stamina for this role and the vocal training to give me a hell of a blood curdling scream I need.”

“And if we don’t go to see this film just to give this girl a chance? What then hmm?”

That had Peter seeing red and before he knew it Fran’s mouth dropped open at hearing him say, “Then you can find a new director to go with whatever lead actress you pick.” Hastily he snapped his phone shut and threw it at his couch covering his mouth letting the couple sit in stunned silence at his monumental foot stomp on the hill he was going to die on that you were perfect for this role. Though what he didn’t know was all the other producers but the one who questioned Peter were already curious to what you could do. And completely ignoring anything he might say they decided to go see the film the country was whispering about and itching to see out with the public to get the full impact of a lead film of yours just killing in sales already without hitting the western half of the globe yet.

They knew the film would be incredible deep down and how talented you are so there was no regret on forcing this issue even if facing a lawsuit in the millions at his dropping out like this. But it had to be done and the film could only increase in value for having you in it. Especially now, after seeing just what you could do in this physically and mentally taxing film you obliterated any chance anyone could ever forget it. Just one of those iconic roles and he had a hunch people would remember you from this over all the other roles you have had so far no matter their size, this one was special and he wanted King Kong to be a second chance of sorts. You loved working as Gimli everyone knew that and cherished each grueling moment while no one who saw the film could tell exactly where you played into it to have earned a spot at each premier under all that weight they coated on top of you daily. This was his second chance to bring to life another beloved tale with you at the helm front and center once again, though this time for none to be able to imagine it could be anyone else but you.

Peter shook his head on his way to fold around you in a hug making you giggle and hug him back, “Brilliant, I can’t think of anything else to say. I could read off every synonym of perfection and it wouldn’t come close.”

Fran, “Edge of my seat the whole time.”

Peter nodded, “Yes, thrilling and you were just, a magnet, couldn’t look away. Brilliant truly.”

Your eyes looked over his face and you asked, “You okay? You seemed a bit tense.”

Peter waved his hand in your step back, “Oh, nothing can’t be handled in the morning. Let’s go feed you, hmm?”

You nodded and joined the group to the waiting van for the after dinner where yet again you mingled with the press and friends alike while Peter counted down the hours to midnight when the tickets would be available for the producers to see it themselves. They would have to see this would explode, even here he had heard several guests to the premier saying they would come back to see it again with friends and relatives. Each additional extra bit shared and explained by the Director fueled that even more with promised extras to be added when the film hit the shelves on extras for the dvd.

Sleep was required and under the covers you tangled up in Richard’s arms falling asleep to the steady beat of his heart and echoes of your father’s deep breaths from across the house. Tomorrow would be interesting as you’d ride the train to London again to find the flat where the team would be waiting to photograph you and Richard for yet another interview. At least for your sake the questions mostly differed and wasn’t terribly repetitive with all these press stops that you had underestimated a bit.

Soon to be added by another as you were going to be appearing on a morning show in New York as the animals they had hoped to get on couldn’t be managed after all. A reluctant addition on both parts. As for when it was booked you would be less than cheerful at having to dart over after having landed to make the interview time for this bothersome appointment they refused to hear that possibly a slot the following day might be better as they had first mentioned instead of bumping it up a day for their own nonsense plans. Though you supposed an earlier flight could always bother the people at the airport to squeeze into an earlier flight time if possible, though this time of the year you doubted it could be managed. All the same these few days here would be a welcome break from all the travel and time to catch up with the Armitage brood and your friends here.

On the way back from the interview however a message from Lee had you looking up to Richard in the seat beside you on the bench on the train, “Lee changing his mind on his suit again?”

“No, Naomi dropped out. Hit the press yesterday in the States.”

“Ah,” he said looking you over, “Well maybe you’ll get a chance to audition. Ours is doing well they can’t ignore that forever.”

“Maybe. Hope so, if not it’ll be a bit strange having to get used to another person to double for them. At least with John and Naomi I had some time to get to know them. Looks like I’d have to meet this new one at the table read.”

“For now let’s at least focus on the time we have, New Years will have the family around and after we land in New York I only have a couple days before catching my flight back to Canada.”

“Yes, we will have to buy you some furniture at least. Dishes too, guess we could make a list of what we’d need to fill a place.”

Richard’s arm eased more around your middle to sneak a kiss on your cheek, “As long as you put yourself on the list. Can’t forget you.” Making you giggle softly in his next stolen peck and cuddle closer in the anticipation to head back out into the nippy breeze waiting for you outside the tunnels.

Time seemed to jump with the year and back in New York you sat atop a high stool smiling for the hosts of the morning show. Chatting about the film which inevitably delved into a mention of the next ‘big story’ of the day about a pie recipe that would blow people away they were set to bake in their cooking segment to follow. Once off camera your hands rose to rub your sore jaw from holding the smile painted on your face no matter what they said. At least they kept it pleasant and this was overall harmless a stop and after a fumble of hands to return the microphone you picked up your bags and joined Richard and your father for the ride back to your apartment.

You had another two days to get ready for the premier and cross of another magazine stop and catch up with your friends. Out on the stoop however Lee was waiting with a smile and a crashing hug for you, “I can’t wait! Tell me everything, not on the film but everything around it I want to be surprised on the film. I ordered pizzas and I just got some of that fizzy fruit drink you like and they still had some chocolate covered cherries at the store I bought them all. Will thought I was crazy for it but they keep, and, one last chocolate orange, saved it for you.” He said with a smile helping to take a bag from you after letting you all in the front entrance guiding you up to your place where he set down your bag and hurried to fetch the drinks leaving just a wait for the pizzas he would guide up here.

In the sitting room you spread out around the stacks of pizzas on the coffee table basking in the warmth as your heater flooded the long empty apartment with warm air. Nice and cozy you relaxed catching up and getting ready for your own evening in catching up on some more sleep and planning the day for you to get your hair lightened and length touched up once blow dried and straightened again.

Flooded with more famous faces your final premier went over fantastically with the numbers racing upwards as soon as the film was out in theaters. Numbers that had some more shows, one in particular asking to fit you in as well the following night. Interviews completed and premiers through you relaxed at least there was only another flight for you to face to get to work on the show Lee was flying out for that night to get his place freshened and stocked up for his stay. A call from Peter however coincided with one from your lawyer, who had flown in asking to talk to you regarding one of your contracts.

“Hey,” you said greeting your lawyer who you let into your apartment for a stop blending with Peter’s, who called saying he was on his way a bit earlier. “Make it alright with the stairs? They should have de-iced earlier.”

“Oh yes, I am surprised I got here so fast, thank you for sharing on the parking garage, not too far of a walk and I can get my pens in order before Peter gets here.”

That had your brows up at your stop into the kitchen, where on the counter he settled his briefcase, Richard making tea asked, “You and Peter planned to come together?”

“Oh yes,” he said opening the case to get everything lined up, “Do you have a table?��

“Um, coffee table, in there,” you said pointing to the sitting room where he grinned carrying his case.

“Tea?” Richard asked.

“Yes please, bit of cream no sugar.”

Richard nodded and lifted the whistling kettle as your dad came from your bedroom after having switched off the race he was watching. Lowly asking as he neared you, “So there’s something wrong with the Kong contract? Thought that was settled months back.”

“Was, who knows.” It didn’t take long for another knock to sound and to the door you went to let Peter in, though once opened his huff from the chilly hall faded to a wide smile. “Hey Peter,” you said stepping back to let him in and take his coat to hang up once you closed the door sealing in the heat from escaping from the apartment. “Something’s wrong with the contracts?”

“Oh not exactly,” he said coming in to find Richard with tea in hand to offer him, “thank you, Richard. Very kind.”

Your dad asked, “Walk went well?”

“Yes, nice and ice free, but, first, you my dear, come have a seat near me.” You nodded following him into the sitting room you took up the love seat across from the one he was sharing with your lawyer who now had all his things arranged on the coffee table. “Now,” he said finishing his sip to set the mug down to pat his palms together above his lap. “This is me formally offering you the role of Ann Darrow.”

“What?” you asked in a frail squeak. “But, I didn’t even audition.” You said after a glance at your dad seated against the wall on a stool he brought in from the kitchen as Richard shifted a bit closer to your side at your hand shifting to his knee unconsciously for support.

“Well I wanted you to, I know by now you heard about Naomi dropping out as you have warned me, thank you for that again made things much easier in this transition. I got the call from the producers and they said they wanted me to get started on auditions again after bringing up the moot issue of possibly talking Kate Winslet into talking about shifting filming to fit her schedule. And when I had offered you the role to double for Naomi I had hoped to offer you the lead role, however the producers were reluctant to offer the role as you were so young. When they called me to inform me to find a new Ann I pressed your name again and told the producers to watch your film as proof that you were the right choice for the role. One of them tried to say he didn’t want to give you a chance and I told the lot of them if they didn’t they could find a new Director as well.”

That had your jaw drop in a crack of your voice, “Have you gone mad?!”

“I did,” he chuckled, “For a few minutes, even Fran had that same face, but I put my foot down and they saw the film and agree with me. And there’s numbers to back how profitable you could be compared to Naomi’s last film.”

“That’s not putting your foot down, that’s,”

“You are my only choice for Ann, you can handle the physicality the screams with all your vocal training and you helped to build the damn city after all giving us references on Vaudeville era shows and culture. You put that work in and you deserve the role a hell of a lot more than anyone else they could muster up.”

“They could have ruined you.”

“Yes,” he replied and said, “All from their idiocy at not giving you the chance in the first place. And with that weight I guaranteed they gave you the same weighty contract they gave to Naomi. Down to numbers, where your lawyer and I have been talking and wrangled down a square deal. $5.5 million paycheck, with $75 k up front, plus 2% box office gross, and an offered .02% of dvd sales.” The numbers muffled in your ears at the sudden urge of your body feeling to wish to pass out while your heart began to race.

“You-,” you squeaked out and shifted wetting your lips to Richard’s hand smoothing across your back having felt your heart rate spike.

“I know it sounds like a lot, you were stunned with a 400k payday on your last film but this one we’re going to be spending over a hundred million, paydays are in the millions and the guys got more than fair shakes and you needed someone at bat for you to get the same. Jack, Adrian and even Colin all pushed for box office and dvd sales cuts to we made certain to get you the biggest percentage. They got 1.5% box office gross and .01% of dvd sales, while you got double dvd sales and .5% higher on box office gross because I’ll be damned if Ann Darrow doesn’t get the biggest chunk on a King Kong film.”

“I,” you said smoothing your fingers across your lips.

Your lawyer said, “I was certain to get you the same 2% box office gross as for Beast of Bards just like I did for Richard. You more than deserve it, saw the film myself.” He said at the tears beginning to pool into your eyes.

Peter wet his lips to say, “This film is going to be very big, another Lord of the Rings smash we hope, and the leads in the trilogy got handsome paychecks. I need you on this, you’re the only one I know who can help me with this. Will you accept?”

“How could I not?” you squeaked out at a tear rolling down your cheek that you hastily wiped away causing him to lean forward taking hold of your free hand.

“You don’t find many actors like you these days. You’d do it for free if you could I know it. You would have been Gimli for free. You don’t want the fame you want the adventure and stories to be born. So, let me go to bat for you, because we need you. Andy will cry if we don’t get you.”

That had you laugh and wipe your other cheek then sniffle through a nod. Up onto your feet you stood and gave him a hug in squeezing between him and the lawyer to get to initialing and signing the papers. Peter stayed for lunch while your lawyer was off eager to put in the papers and pass on the news to your grandparents. In his absence Peter said, “I do like your place.” That had you giggle again on the way to the kitchen with the group for a refill on tea.

“Used to be in a smaller one. Dad’s talked to the landlord though about one of his brownstones possibly for us all and maybe Lee if he’s up for it. Have a tiny yard in the back.”

“Right down the block from another firehouse. Nice and safe.” Making Peter grin, “Plus, five floors, all ours, nice upgrade.”

Peter asked your dad, “Sounds nice, are you planning on staying here full time then?”

“No,” he said then glanced at you, “Pumpkin’s up to Canada next and I’m heading back to Texas for a while give the lovebirds some time alone. And I could use a break on flying. Get my hands back in the dirt and help with the sheep. Sheering season before long.”

“I have to learn to juggle,” you said making Peter smirk at you, “I know one of the Queens knows how to juggle. Don’t remember which one, Dolly will know.”

Pt 33

Hobbit – Soulmate - @evyiione, @deepestfirefun, @rhaenaatargaryen, @anastasialovers

X all Rich. A - @abiwim, @deepestfirefun, @thestorybookmistress

X Lee P - @tigereyesf

All –

@himoverflowers, @theincaprincess, @aspiringtranslator, @thegreyberet, @patanghill17, @jesgisborne, @curvestrology, @alishlieb, @jogregor, @armitageadoration, @fizzyxcustard, @lilith15000, @marvels-ghost, @catthefearless, @imjusthereforthereads, @c-s-stars, @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore, @mariannetora, @shes-a-killer-kween, @ggbbhehe4455

#Richard Armitage x Reader OC #Lee Pace x Reader OC #Premiers #New Contracts #Change of Plans

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sadaboutniall · 4 years

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something about you;

introduction | masterlist | tag | wattpad

Twenty Seven. November, 2017.

‘Are you sure you think I look okay?’ Isla’s smoothing her hands over the front of her trousers, eyes meeting Niall’s in the mirror. He can see her hands trembling slightly, an anxious look in her eyes.

Maybe he’d been naive to think that taking Isla to the AMAs would be smooth sailing. He half thought that the glitter and glitz of Hollywood would outshine her anxiety, that she would realize that, although the things here are pretty and expensive, the people are no different, and she fits right in. He’d thought she’d feel confident and sexy with him showing her off in front of everyone else tonight—not nervous and shaky and unsure of her worth.

‘You’re beautiful,’ he tells her, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind, letting one hand travel up to rest on the skin of her belly. After making Niall’s suit, Paul Smith had offered to make Isla a dress as well, and Niall’d joined in on the meetings, flipping through pages of fabric samples and silhouette sketches with Isla, Ellie, and Paul. At the end of it all, though, Isla’d settled on a custom suit instead: tight, curve hugging trousers and a matching blazer, low cut enough to expose an intricate, lace bralette and more than a little bit of skin. He couldn’t keep his hands off her the first time he saw it, and he doesn’t feel any different now. He rests his chin on her shoulders and keeps his eyes locked on hers in the mirror. ‘Everyone’s going to love you.’

Isla sighs shakily, her hands coming up to cover Niall’s, to entwine her fingers with his. ‘Sorry,’ she says. ‘I know it’s not about me tonight, I shouldn’t be—’

‘It’s always about you,’ he drops a kiss to her neck. ‘You feeling comfortable is more important to me than any awards show.’

‘Don’t be an eejit,’ says Isla quietly, but there’s a small smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. Niall feels triumphant, heart soaring in his chest.

He walks the carpet alone. They’d agreed that they’re not ready for any kind of public appearances just yet—that what they have is special, precious, and shouldn’t belong to anyone other than the two of them. Still, he lets his mind wander a little as he poses, thinks about what it would be like to smile for the cameras with Isla on his arm, his hand resting on her waist, the look in his eyes showing the entire world how lucky he is to call himself hers. For all Niall values keeping his private life private, he’s been feeling an itch lately, a pull to make sure every single stranger knows how much he loves Isla.

It started with Colm’s comment and Isla’s confession, Niall knows that. But he doesn’t think that makes it any less genuine, his desire to start bringing her to more work events, to ease her into his world. It’s a mad, mad place, but he doesn’t want to be in it without Isla, and it makes his stomach churn to think she ever felt excluded. So, slowly but surely he’s been bringing her along where appropriate, introducing her to more and more of the people he works with. But tonight feels like a test of its own, her very first big event, coupled with her first ever trip to LA.

With Tara by his side, Niall stands for quick interviews along the carpet, dodging relationship questions and One Direction digging. He hugs and kisses friends for the camera, talks about his album and tour plans, and tries not to worry too much about Isla, inside the theater with Mully and Emilia. It feels weirder than he anticipated, being separated from her and having to do his job while he knows she’s watching him. She can’t sit with him either, won’t be able to hold his hand when they call out his category, kiss him when he loses—or wins.

But this is better than nothing, he tells himself, shoving his hands in his pockets as he and Tara make the final stretch down the carpet. Having Isla here, even if she can’t be next to him, is as good as it gets for them right now.

Winning hadn’t even occurred to Niall.

When they call his name it’s genuine shock—enough that he almost thinks he’s imagining it for a second, until Shawn claps him on the back and Tara launches into a hug and holy shit, fuck, he’s actually won it, an AMA, all on his own.

He stumbles up to the stage shaking with adrenaline, heart soaring, and it’s not until he gets to the mic that he realizes he hasn’t prepared a speech at all, hadn’t even let himself consider the possibility that he would actually, for real, win this thing. For a split second he’s staring out at an expectant room, filled with the faces of his friends, his colleagues, his idols, with nothing to say.

And then he spots Isla. She’s next to Emilia, only a few rows back but all the way on the side, so it’s no wonder he hadn’t seen her before, and she’s got this glint in her eyes that Niall thinks might be tears, her hands covering her mouth, Emilia’s arm over her shoulders. It’s enough, just seeing her, to wake him the fuck up.

The speech comes out easy, then: thank yous to his team at Capitol and at Modest, and a hearty thank you to the fans, for making this possible. It feels like his heart is screaming at him, though, as he clutches the bulky, heavy award with both hands and raises it into the air.

All he wants to do is be able to thank Isla.

Someone, Niall can’t remember who, suggests ditching the afterparty, and somehow they all end up at his house: Shawn Mendes, Nick Jonas, Selena, the lads from The Chainsmokers, Julia, everyone. It feels a bit like sneaking out on a school trip, like they’ve escaped the teachers and can spend the night doing what they want, instead of something boring and educational, and Niall feels like he’s at the center of it all, like the hero of the night, like the most important person in the room.

That might have something to do with Isla, though, the way she’s taken off her blazer so she’s just in her trousers and her bralette, the way she’s talking to Julia and Emilia but keeps glancing back in Niall’s direction, smiling privately when she catches his eye. It’s warm in here with all the bodies and Niall’s slowly shedding his clothes, too: his jacket is off and so is his vest, and he’s already undone the first few buttons of his shirt. He keeps catching Isla trailing her eyes over his chest, his collarbone, his neck. The feeling of her eyes on him is like lightning in his lower belly.

‘She’s stunning,’ Nick tells Niall, jerking his head in Isla’s direction. They’re in the kitchen, him, Nick, and Shawn, leaning up against the counter and sipping on gin and tonics. ‘Good for you.’

Niall feels a rising in his chest, pride, happiness. It outshines even the feeling of winning his award tonight. ‘She’s brilliant,’ Niall says. ‘I’m lucky.’

‘Where’d you meet? She’s Irish too, right?’

‘They’ve known each other since, like, kindergarten,’ Shawn answers for him. ‘Dated in school, broke up when he made it big, got back together after things settled down. The whole nine yards.’

‘Oh, hometown hero?’ Nick’s smirking. ‘That’s sweet, bro. You keeping her around for a while, then?’

‘Forever, hopefully,’ says Niall. He and Isla haven’t talked about that in explicit words, but he can’t imagine anything else. He watches Nick raise his eyebrows, tipping back another sip of his drink.

‘Good for you,’ he repeats, once he’s swallowed. ‘She seems like a good one.’

As the night cools off, Isla does, too. Slowly but surely Niall notices her loosen up, expanding her circle from just Mia and Julia to include Selena, and then Nick and Shawn. By the time he and Mully come back up from the basement, where they’d gone to fetch more wine, Isla is in the middle of it all, sandwiched between Tara and Mia but chatting excitedly to Shawn and The Chainsmokers, laughing into her vodka soda. He feels a swell of pride again, a twinge of hope in his heart. She can fit in here. He’s known it all along.

He and Mully join the group to cheers and shouts, hands reaching out for the full bottles of wine. Tara squeezes over, closer to Selena, and Niall’s able to fit in between her and Isla, his hand coming to rest on her knee. With a soft squeeze he meets her eyes, mirrors her smile.

‘Okay?’ He mouths, just for her.

She nods, hand coming up to rest on top of his.

‘Isla was just telling me,’ says Nick, who pronounces the ‘s’ in Isla’s name. Mully snorts, but Nick doesn’t notice. ‘About school in Ireland. I never knew you played soccer, bro.’

‘Star of the team, he was,’ says Mully. He squeals when Emilia elbows him in the stomach.

‘We should play,’ Nick carries on. ‘Five a side or something. Isla?’

‘Oh,’ she blushes, shaking her head. ‘I’m pretty shite at football, honestly. Sean, though—’

‘Fuck yeah,’ Mully interjects. ‘Five a side is my shit. I’ll get jerseys made up and—’

Nick looks a little put out and Niall can’t help it: he feels smug. He snakes his hand around Isla’s waist, resting his palm against the bare skin of her back, his fingers playing gently with the lace of her bralette. She casts him a sly look and he feels on top of the world, like a king beside her. And what a fucking feeling it is.

‘You know,’ he says, later that night, Isla resting against his bare chest in bed. His limbs are heavy with exhaustion, alcohol, post-orgasm bliss. ‘I think Nick Jonas has a crush on you.’

‘If you told 2008 Isla that one day she’d have to choose between you and Nick fucking Jonas,’ she glances up at him, her eyes glinting with supressed laughter. She looks heavenly like this, Niall thinks: naked, hair cascading down her back, legs tangled up with his, bed sheets pooling around her waist.

‘You’d totally choose me,’ Niall finishes for her, leaning down for a kiss. Isla laughs into his mouth, hand coming up to cup his cheek. When they pull away Isla presses her nose to Niall’s, holding him there for a moment.

‘Thank you for tonight,’ she says eventually. ‘For including me, for being so patient with me.’

‘I always want you included,’ he tightens his arms around her waist. ‘I don’t want to do this without you.’

‘Me neither,’ Isla whispers, eyes locked on Niall’s.

‘Not even with Nick?’ He asks, smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Isla laughs too, crinkles at the corner of her eyes, nose scrunching up, giggles carrying through his quiet bedroom. Contentedness settles over Niall’s body like a warm blanket, like Isla on top of him.

‘Not even with Nick Jonas,’ she kisses Niall gently, lips brushing his as she speaks. ‘No one but you, lover.’

####

taglist: @stylishmuser @thicksniall @stayclose-holdsteady @niallhoranruinsme @ajayque @flickerswinehouse @1dfangirls35 @crocodileniall @halfpinthoran @awomanindeniall @booksncoffee @edgeofmyniall @kare38 @emmathefantomes @coconutdawn @irish-nlessing @niallspeachybum @perksmikey

join the taglist here

#one direction #1dff #one direction fan fiction #niall horan #niall horan fic #niall horan fan fiction #niall horan imagine #niall #something about you #sorry it's so late!#i have no excuse just laziness lol #hope it's okay!!#sorry to nick jonas lol

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coffehbeans · 4 years

Note

51. Landing

Thanks for asking! It’s my first completed oneshot here, so I’m excited. English is not my first language, so there might be some grammar and vocabulary mistakes, so pls lemme know if smth sounds confusing.

Hope you all like it!

(I didn’t expect to research about agriculture for this story aushausha)

51.Landing

The sky turned yellow as the afternoon approached its end, the sunbeams shining the humble cottage on the farm. Alicia calmly finished washing the dishes, trying to dry them as fast as possible so she could plow the terrain outside before night came. Her grandmother and only company, sat at the armchair half-asleep, barely listening to the rather alarmed tone of the news anchor on the television.

-The United World Nations at the moment gathered all military force to eliminate the new attack by yet another extraterrestrial spaceship.

Oh, that’s right, Alicia thought as she listened to the news, the global powers are fighting once again to save the Earth from yet another alien force. The attacks were getting frequent now, she noticed. Not that it gave her even an ounce of concern, since Earth has quite the amount of technology to defeat the hostile species, and thanks to the giant robots that were built, a large and indestructible army could battle in the sky, far away from any defenseless human.

It’s not as if any alien invasion would soon happen where Alicia lived, anyway. Her home was in a rural area far away from any people agglomeration, and the only town close to the farm is small and barely populated. Nothing really interesting for an extraterrestrial being.

Besides all that, since her grandmother was already of old age and walked with difficulty, Alicia had to take care of most of the farm’s plantations, living pretty busy to worry about any spaceship’s attempt to destroy the Earth.

It was a dull life, she knew that, but a peaceful one. She felt grateful for its tranquility.

Although, as Alicia picked her hoe to head outside, she peered at her pile of Engineering and Physics books and sighed. Indeed, she longed to know more about Earth’s defense robots, the subject that caught so much of her interest. How they worked, how they were built, or even if she would be able to design one.

But that did not matter now. Alicia felt comfortable living a calm life in such a chaotic world situation, and that was all that mattered.

-As of now, the new mecha models, AS-31, are being used for the first time in this attack. Due to the governments’ assurance of its new potential and ability, the entire world population is laying all their hopes on these promising machines.

Now that piqued Alicia’s interest. ‘I wonder how these new models are’, she thought. However, she only quickly glanced at the footage of the new type of robot as she held onto the doorknob and readied herself to go outside before the sunset.

-I’m going to clear off the field now! -she warned her grandmother as the latter jostled awake.

-Alright. -she said to Alicia. -Just make sure to return before dark!

-I will!

And she was off.

Scratching the dirt soil, over and over again, time passed by quite quickly as Alicia’s mind went blank and concentrated on her work, forgetting all about the deal with robots, or crazy space invasions. Yeah, she thought. Her life didn’t match the current world situation at all. She was ok with that. Things were peaceful as they should be. Thus, she continued looking down, plowing the entire plantation and all the terrain of crops that still had to grow.

Until she heard a whirring sound, as if from a motor. ‘A plane?’ She thought and looked up.

Indeed, there was a black dot on the yellowed sky above, but she couldn’t identify if it was a plane, jet or missile. Those are very common to pass by one day or another.

But before Alicia could decide to look down, the black dot became bigger, its silhouette turning more defined, to reveal a, helmet? Connected to some sort of body that was sharp around the edges. Its form resembled a person, but colored in silver black and made of metal. Fire and smoke left its shoes and back as the thrusters flicked on and off. Alicia widened her eyes in realization.

That was a mecha.

She let the hoe fall down as the robot grew larger and larger, apparently coming closer to her, lowering towards her direction.

It was falling.

Her stomach sank.

-Grandma!!! - she turned her head towards her house and shouted from the top of her lungs, heart accelerating.

-Grandma!! Grandma!!

Her grandmother opened the door in confusion, oblivious to the giant robot that threatened to fall above them. The whirring sound got louder.

-What happened?

-Get out, get out!! There’s a giant robot falling down here!!

-What?!

Alicia’s grandmother slowly got out of the house, walking towards her as Alicia ran and ran to help her while also looking up from time to time. She could make out some details of the machine now, the words “AS-31” marked on its chest. Her stomach dropped. ‘It seems to be over 100 feet tall.’

She reached her grandmother and intertwined her arm with hers, helping her to walk as both started to pace quicker and get as far away as possible from the falling steel giant.

-What’s going on?! - grandma’s voice cracked.

-It’s a mecha! The new version one! It’s falling down here! Hurry!!

And they hushed past the house, past the barn next to it and the farm terrain, as the buzzing grew louder and the mecha lowered closer and closer to the ground in free fall, until-

Suddenly from its hands and feet, although flickering, some sort of fire thrusters emerged, slowing its fall and making it soar right above the duo as everything came to slow motion.

And it landed with a thunderous sound that convulsed the entire earth and toppled both Alicia and her grandma to the ground, an earsplitting noise ringing in their ears as dust spread everywhere. Alicia sat up with quickened breaths, immediately turning towards her grandma to help her up.

-Grandma! Are you okay?

-Yeah, yeah, I am, don’t worry ’bout it. - she dismissed as she took her hands out of her ears and got up with Alicia’s help without much trouble. -What on earth was that?!

-I, I think that a giant robot fell down on Earth from that battle the news reporter mentioned. - Alicia said in between breaths, trying to inhale more air to calm herself down, which proved to be a failure as powder filled her nostrils.

-Sheesh. - her grandma reacted without as much of a worry. -why right here, at our house?! Hope it didn’t destroy anything.

-Wait a bit, grandma, I’ll check it out. - Alicia said as she swiftly rushed towards the fallen robot. She could only see the top of its laid down body now, since the dust blocked the rest of the view.

-You be careful, Ali! It might blow up.

-Don’t worry, I’ll check it out real quick.

At that, she ran.

-Don’t get near that thing! - she could hear her grandmother saying. But her mind wasn’t processing any imminent danger. Despite Alicia’s heart hammering through her chest, or the dirt particles filling up her nostrils and making her eyes water, she went towards the mecha to scan the possible damage it might have caused.

But it didn’t, Alicia realized as her mouth dropped.

It went over the crops, the house, and the barn and fell a few feet after it, not damaging any plantation, despite forming somewhat of a crater at the spot it landed on. Aside from the fact part of the cottage’s walls have fallen down, nothing else was damaged. She let out a breath in relief.

The giant robot laid perfectly still, its head facing to the side, while smoke faded out from its feet and hands. She gasped at its sheer size, noticing how her height wasn’t even the length of its longest finger.

Letting herself be allured by curiosity, Alicia strode forward, until she was a few centimeters close to the thick glass visor of its helmet.

She widened her eyes and gasped in awe, mouth agape. It looked fascinating. Urging to look around, Alicia climbed its head to see if it had a monitor, or a panel, anything she could dismount and analyze later. But nothing. She climbed down and furrowed her brows. Now that was weird. Wasn’t the head supposed to have some sort of engine somewhere? It is where most of the mechanical functions come from after all. But the way the helmet was built didn’t give space to any compartment that allowed a quick check on its AI behavior. Wouldn’t that be dangerous?

But before Alicia could walk around and check the other parts of the robot, she noticed a small, rectangular-shaped button in the corner of the glass pane of the helmet. Without a second thought and taken by her eagerness, she pressed it.

And the glass pane suddenly disappeared, leaving the face part of the helmet completely open.

And revealing a giant human-looking face, with its eyes closed, mouth firmly shut and brown-colored bangs slightly covering part of its cheek.

Alicia sucked in a breath.

-Wh, what? - was all she could pronounce as she wheezed, aghast.

-Is, is this some sort of fake skin to cover a metal skeleton? - said her wobbly voice as her mind tried to process what was in front of her. There was absolutely no way that was a living being. Right?

With trembling hands, she caressed the skinned surface. It was soft, as if truly was human skin. ‘As if it’s a real human in massive size.’ Her heartbeat quickened. Taking a deep breath, Alicia attempted to rationalize it all in her head and calm herself down once again. ‘It’s okay. It must be a way to personalize the robot so the body is not only metal. Yeah, that’s all there is to it. Just a fake human-like face. A realistic human-like face’.

But the gigantic hand abruptly twitched, tensing her up.

Her stomach sank and she held her breath, blood pulsing through her veins, goosebumps taking over her skin as Alicia felt a slight breeze fluttering her face, coming out of its nose. As if it was breathing.

-N-no way, it can’t be. -she stuttered.

-T-this can’t be real, can it?

But while Alicia was still speaking, its huge eyes shot open, revealing grey orbs around the size of her head that reflected her trembling and astonished form.

And that instantly looked back at her.

#g/t #giant/tiny #g/t story #g/t writing #this story idea i have was so old #I'm glad i finally could write it down #thx for asking #it was so motivating #keep asking y'all!#it's from the 100 g/t themes asks #coffeh's writing #coffeh's story #hope u enjoyed it!

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fleckcmscott · 4 years

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Watch What Happens - Chapter 8

Chapter links: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

Summary: Arthur, an aspiring comedian, has struggled to find normalcy and compassion his entire life. Y/N, a hard-working paralegal and transplant to Gotham, has just been put on a case for the Wayne Foundation. When they meet, unexpected sparks fly.

Chapter warning: Swearing

Words: 3,835

A/N: Totally self-indulgent, but when Sinatra is mentioned, this is the song I hear playing (though almost any would do): Nice ‘N’ Easy

Also, a big thanks to @harmonioussolve for reading this chapter before I had the courage to post anything!

Arthur paced in front of the door to Y/N’s apartment. His shoulders lifted as he sucked in a deep breath. He couldn’t stop fiddling with the collar buttons of the red sweater he wore (one of the few pieces of clothing he had that fit him properly). A rose was in his hand, one he’d grabbed at a vendor on the way over. He’d gotten it on a lark - women were supposed to like flowers. Now he was on the verge of worrying off the leaves.

It’ll be fine. It’s only Y/N. Only Y/N - what a joke.

Forcing himself to stand still, he slowly raised his hand to trace the apartment number, 4A. Then he swallowed hard and knocked.

“Just a minute!” she called.

At the sound of her voice, he leaned forward to listen to her slight shuffling. As her footsteps brought her nearer, he screwed his eyes shut, trying to calm his pulse. Hearing the sound of the deadbolt being unlocked, he straightened. The door swung open.

There she stood, beaming. His breath stopped. That smile was for him. Because of him. It was hard to take-in. His eyebrows lifted and he held out the flower. “Hi.”

“Hi, Arthur. You look wonderful.”

His cheeks burned and he lowered his eyes to the floor. “Thanks. So do you,” he said.

Y/N took the rose from him and gently ran her fingertips over the petals. “This is lovely. Thank you.” She stepped back, then, and extended her arm to guide him inside. “Come in, come in.” After closing the door behind her, she darted back to the kitchen. “You can put your coat on the hooks by the door.”

He did as she instructed, shrugging out of his jacket and hanging it up next to hers. He felt his throat clench and pressed the back of his hand to his mouth. Don’t fuck this up. Letting out a long breath, he stepped further into the apartment and peeked around.

It was different than he’d imagined. The white walls were sparsely decorated, with a calendar here or a print there. The cream colored carpet was plush, but struck him as a pain to keep clean. The living area was larger than his own, maybe by ten square feet. In the low light of the side table lamp, he could see there were no knick-knacks anywhere, no photos. Two doors were connected to the room, which he deduced were for the bathroom and bedroom. A third, glass door led outside. His eyes went to the kitchen, which was in the same spot as in his own apartment. It was somewhat longer, with a dining nook at the end.

He knew he was out of place. The freshness, the newness of the apartment was a stark contrast to his own, aged home. It was nice to be here, though. Different, but nice.

Y/N interrupted his reverie. “Did you have any trouble finding your way here?”

Arthur approached her, leaning against the kitchen entrance and folding his arms over his chest. “No, you gave good directions.”

She cocked her head at him. “I was thinking the other day how it’s funny you live so close by. Well, relatively close by.” Stirring slowly, her attention back to the stove, she continued. “I wonder how often we passed each other without noticing,” she said.

The words, spoken in her usual casual tone, landed with him, hard. He didn’t answer, unsure of what to say. Instead, he tried to focus on her easy manner. So far, it had always helped him relax.

He let his eyes rove over her form, noting that her conservative heels complimented the curves of the back of her calves. Her knee-length skirt prevented him from checking out her thighs, but it accentuated the feminine silhouette of her backside. The blue sweater she wore was snug, and he could make out the curve of her breasts. Her hair looked soft, and he alternated between wanting to touch it and breath in her scent.

The moment she looked at him, he averted his eyes to what she was cooking. He didn’t recognize it. “That smells good. What is it?”

“Beef stroganoff. I can’t take too much credit. My crock-pot did most of the work. I’m just boiling the egg noodles now, which is about the height of my cooking skills.” She huffed and shook her head at herself. “I’m selling myself well, aren’t I?”

Arthur met her gaze, then pushed himself to verbalize what came to mind. “I’m already sold on you.” He froze for a split second, then smiled in relief as her eyes warmed and he realized he’d said the right thing. As she retrieved a colander, he saw that she’d put the rose he’d brought in a glass of water. Emboldened, he stepped next to her. “I’m actually okay around the kitchen, taking care of my mother… Maybe I can help?”

She placed the colander in the sink as she fished a noodle out of the pot. After testing it, she handed him oven mitts. “Yeah, would you drain these? The pot’s heavy and I messed up my wrist at work today. Too much typing.”

He put them on and picked up the pot. “Are you all right?” he asked. Dumping the noodles into the sink, he watched her take out plates, cutlery, wine glasses, and a bottle of red wine.

Shit. Maybe Gary had been right.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” she said, placing the silverware on the table. “Happens sometimes. Occupational hazard.” She grabbed the wine corker and opened the bottle, then held it out to him. “Here. You pour and I’ll serve.”

“Um, okay.” He took the it from her and furrowed his brow at the glasses. He’d drunk occasionally, but wine was new to him, and he was trying to figure out how much to pour. Half a glass? A full glass? He went with the latter.

Y/N’s hand was on his bicep in an instant and he stiffened. “Arthur, that’s too much,” she laughed. “Are you trying to take advantage of me?”

He flinched and put the bottle down. Did she really think that? “No, I wasn’t-.”

Her hand moving down his arm to the back of his hand stopped him. “I’m teasing you,” she said. She gave him a little squeeze. “You’re going to have to get used to it.”

The smile she was giving him, the glint in her eye, her close proximity. For a moment, he could see himself clearing the counter with his arm, lifting her onto it, stepping between her legs, pulling her mouth to his -

A nudge from her elbow caught his attention. “Is this enough?”

He blinked down at the portion. It was more than he usually ate in a day. “That’s plenty.”

After serving herself, she grabbed both plates and brought them to the small, round table at the end of the kitchen. He followed her lead, wine glasses in his hands. The corner of his mouth turned up when he saw he was supposed to sit next to her, not across from her. She sat down and put a cloth napkin in her lap, and, taking his cue from her, he did the same. “Well, enjoy.”

Arthur watched her movements for a few seconds before starting. He wasn’t used to sitting at a table and eating with someone, even though he’d often wished for it. It had always been more casual: TV dinners on the couch, or alone at his table as he wrote in his journal. He observed the way she held the knife and fork, in her right and left hands, respectively. He was used to cutting his food with the side of his fork. He tried to hold the cutlery in the same manner she did, but it felt unnatural. He could feel himself tense up. A short laugh forced its way through his throat. Wincing, he instinctively covered his mouth.

Y/N lightly put her hand on his shoulder, caressing him soothingly, then gave him a tender squeeze. “It’s okay. I’m a little nervous, too.” She hummed softly with a blush. “And I didn’t invite you here to be uncomfortable or someone else. Eat how you want.”

His eyes watered but he managed to blink it back, hoping she didn’t notice. She had no idea how often he wished to be someone else, away from this city, his conditions. But not tonight. He was glad to be here tonight. With her. Lowering the hand from his lips, he nodded. Taking his fork in his right hand, he took a bite. He chewed it slowly and mulled over the texture. “It’s very good,” he said. “Thank you.”

“It’s great when the weather’s this chilly.”

A few mouthfuls later, he tried the wine. It was surprising, a little dry, but he decided he liked it. He cleared his throat. “I know we talked about this before, but I still don’t understand how you could choose Gotham to live in. There are other cities.”

She took a drink herself. “I needed time to save up enough money to move. I was doing legal work at home, too. Once I’d put away enough and could leave, I applied to every paralegal job in a big city. Metropolis, Toronto, Central City. I didn’t care where it was. And I got work in Gotham.” She looked pleased. “I’m glad I did.”

Bashfully, he smiled back. “Me, too,” he said.

Looking ahead, she chewed thoughtfully. “I never felt at home in Boonville, you know? It’s such a small town. Nothing to do, not much opportunity. I thought I’d be able to settle down there and be content with my ex-husband, but that didn’t happen.” She squinted then and her eyes pierced his. “It doesn’t bother you, does it? That I’m divorced? I know it’s unusual, but I got married twenty years ago when we were both young and stupid.”

He wouldn’t have minded if she’d been locked up in Arkham with him. Arthur shook his head. “Does it bother you that I’m not?” He could see her shoulders loosen at his answer.

Chuckling, she continued to eat. “You seem to hate it here.”

He paused, pondering what to say that wouldn’t put her off. For reasons he would never understand, she loved Gotham. “People can be awful.” Bitter memories starting surfacing. “They’ll cut you off in line like you’re not even there. There was a homeless guy once, who died on the sidewalk near where I live. People were just stepping over him. Like they didn’t even notice.”

His voice lowered as he poked at the food on his plate. “What happened on the train?” he said. “That wasn’t the first time. You’re the only reason I got out of there all right.” He brought a hand to his forehead. “It’s tiring. And embarrassing.”

Y/N’s hand touched his and he let her pull it away from his face. “Don’t be embarrassed because others are assholes. Just don’t be one yourself. That’s all anyone can do.” She finished the last few bites of her food. “There are awful people everywhere.” A short snort escaped her. “At least here it’s in your face and you know where you stand.”

They continued in silence for a few moments, Arthur finishing his meal. “Oh, I haven’t told you yet.” He perked up, a wide smile on his face. “I have a stand-up show next Tuesday at eight. Maybe you should come see me?”

She stood, grinning down at him “Of course I’ll be there. Just tell me where.” Bending slightly at the waist, she picked up their plates. “Would you like seconds?”

He observed her, the closeness of her face. Suddenly, he was hungry again. “Please.”

~~~~~

Nicotine soothed what remained of Arthur’s nerves as he stood on the fire escape, cigarette in his mouth. He’d been craving a smoke since entering the apartment building. His eyes crinkled at the corners as he went over the evening so far. He was feeling pretty good, which was new. He hadn’t made a mistake, except with the wine, which Y/N didn’t seem to mind too much. It was nice to be around a person who so comfortable with themselves. He hoped it would be contagious - it seemed to be when he was around her.

At least partially. Part of him wondered what she saw in him, anyway. A professional woman like her interested in a high-school dropout like him? He hadn’t minded leaving school at the time. It had been difficult, with his laughter and black moods. And quitting had eventually become a necessity so he could take care of his mother. Working odd jobs and concentrating on comedy and performing had helped him get out of his own head, at least for a time. Y/N was such a contrast, having gone to college and made something of herself. He hoped she never realized he was worthless.

He closed his eyes against the musings worming their way into his brain, wishing his mind would let him enjoy himself. He felt himself slipping sometimes, though he still mostly managed to push through the negative thoughts. They were recurring more often, however. Two of his medications had run out. He only had enough of the rest to get him through Sunday. The effects of suddenly stopping them wasn’t something he knew much about, having been on them for so long. And now he had no one he could go to to ask. So far, the most obvious change had been the shortening of his refractory period from a few days to a few hours.

Though Y/N might have also helped with that. He blushed, feeling a little shameful, thinking about it with her maybe twelve feet away.

As if on cue, he heard her open the glass door behind him. “The ad for the apartment said this was supposed to be a balcony,” she giggled. When he didn’t reply, she loosely put her arm around his back at his waist. “Arthur, you’re so tightly wound. I want you to have a good time. You need more wine.”

He chuckled, the corner of his mouth turning up as he blew smoke through his nose.

Her voice was apologetic when she spoke again. “I’ve noticed when I touch you, you sometimes tense up.” Y/N stroked his side, softening her words. “Should I stop? I don’t want to, but if you-”

Arthur turned to her, grasping her hand desperately. “No. Please.” He entwined their fingers, savoring her smaller palm against his own. It was odd to voice what he craved as if it mattered. “I want you to touch me. I think about it a lot.” He scoffed at his own vulnerability. “I’m - I’m just not used to it.”

She nodded in understanding, tightening her hold on him. “It’s been a couple years for me, too.”

He flicked his cigarette off the ledge and watched it as it fell. It’s only been thirty-five here.

“Come back in,” she said, turning and pulling him inside. “It’s cold out and you could do without the cancer sticks.”

The notes of music coming from a radio in the corner caught his ear. Sinatra was playing. After closing the door, she stood in front of him expectantly. When he gave her a crooked smile but didn’t move, she extended her hand to him. “Mr. Fleck, you told me you were a good dancer,” she said, lifting an eyebrow. “Show me? Quick, before the alcohol wears off and I change my mind.”

He grasped her hand tenderly, then, and stepped closer. “Change your mind? About me?”

“No, silly. Embarrassing myself.” She gripped his shoulder.

Arthur scoffed. “I don’t think that’s possible.” It took him a couple seconds to steel himself before he could place his hand on her side. Gently, he started to move, leading her to the song’s beat and rhythm. He longed to look into her eyes, and did so for a few moments before self-consciousness took over. When that happened he pulled her closer, his eyes shutting as his jaw grazed her cheek.

After a few minutes, her forehead fell forward onto his shoulder. She moved her hand to his chest and sighed contentedly. “Where’d you learn how to dance?”

His hand went over hers. “My mom taught me when I was little. That’s when I started. And I’ve listened to a lot of Jackie Gleason Orchestra records.” He dipped her, then, not too far, but enough to feel her weight on his arm.

She laughed. “Those records are so cheesy. I love it.” When he brought her back up, she put her hand to her forehead. “I gotta sit down. My head’s spinning.” At his disappointed groan, she waved dismissively and sat on the couch. After taking off her heels and pouring a third glass of wine, she cleared her throat. “I’ve been thinking about you and your mother. You’re in a tough situation. I’ve been there.”

“You have?” he asked.

Y/N swallowed hard, taking a drink. “One of the reasons I had to stay home for so long was my father. He had dementia.” Looking up at him, she added, “Is that what you deal with?”

His brow pinched and he sat next to her. “I’m not sure. She’s been sick a long time. She focuses on strange things.” He rolled his eyes, already annoyed. “Lately, she’s been obsessed with Thomas Wayne.” Sighing, he said, “She keeps writing him letters asking for help, because she worked for them thirty years ago.”

She nodded and turned her body to face him. “My father got like that, too. Always obsessed with the mail. Thinking someone was stealing from him.” She sniffled once and swiped at her nose. “My mother had passed away. My sister - I have a sister - she tried but she has her own children.” Tucking her feet under herself, she leaned against the back of the sofa. “In the end, the worst thing was the emotional back and forth. Most days he was a shadow of who he used to be. But there were days when he knew who I was.” She clicked her tongue. “You keep hoping for more of those, but they don’t come.”

Arthur saw her lip tremble and her eyes gloss over. Pressure formed in his chest. He wanted to comfort her and make her smile, but he didn’t know how to do it. He settled for putting his hand on her forearm and turning to her.

Staring into the distance, she continued. “You get to the point where you don’t recognize yourself. All you want is to be alone with your thoughts instead of…” She blinked a couple times and looked at him, as if realizing she wasn’t alone, and grimaced shyly. She put down the wine glass. The heel of her hand went to her eyes to wipe away unshed tears. “Whew. I shouldn’t have started that third glass. I’m sorry. I’ve ruined our beautiful evening.”

“No,” he answered quickly, moving his hand to her shoulder, the way she had comforted him at the dinner table. “You didn’t.”

She stood, still seemingly embarrassed. “You’re too kind.” She held her hip and looked down at him. “You’ve asked a couple of times if I was real. Are you sure you are? You seem too good to be true. How are you not married with five children or something?”

He widened his eyes and studied the surface of the coffee table, laughing quietly. Good thing she couldn’t read his mind. Or his journal. “Now I know you’ve had too much to drink,” he said.

She continued to stand there, looking down at him with narrowed eyes. “It’s possible.”

He smiled wryly. Sensing the evening was winding down, he picked up the glasses and brought them to the kitchen. He put his hands on the edge of the counter, grasping until his knuckles were white. Even though he thought it would be the correct thing to do, considering she was tipsy, he didn’t want to leave.

Y/N followed. Her hand touched the small of his back as she moved to rummage in a bottom cabinet. “Let me pack some of this up for you and your mother.” She pulled out a few Tupperware dishes.

“You don’t have to do that,” he said.

Not heeding his words, she started to fill each dish with a separate part of the meal. “I’m one person. It’ll go bad before I eat it. Plus, I want to.”

Arthur slowly went to the door and pulled on his jacket. When he turned around, she stood before him, a grin on her face, bag of leftovers dangling from her fingertips. “Thank you for coming over, Arthur. It was the best night I’ve had in a long time.” She leaned forward, stood on her toes, and gave his cheek a tender kiss.

He let out a long breath, then, staring at the floor before meeting her look. Before the moment passed, before he left, he had the urgent need to do something, anything. His voice cracked slightly. “Y/N, I…” For one of the first times in his life, he followed his instinct, placed his hands on the sides of her face, and leaned in to kiss her.

Y/N’s lips were soft, so soft, against his own, and her short moan warmed him. He could feel her pull him closer, her hands going across his back as his own slid down to her sides. She tilted her head and deepened the kiss, one of her palms going to the nape of his neck, her fingers in his hair. When her fingernails met his scalp, a groan escaped him and he grasped her hip. It happened so quickly. He felt himself hardening in his pants as her lips sought his.

She broke the kiss first, gasping and giggling. “I’ll be at your show next week, all right?”

Arthur was lightheaded; she was still hanging onto him. His voice was unsteady when he answered. “Yes. Okay.”

She finally released him from her arms and handed him the food. He took it gratefully, a sad smile breaking out as he turned to leave. She tempered the blow by giving him another quick kiss when she opened the door. “Get home safely.”

He nodded, voice raspy when he answered. “I will.”

She slowly started shutting the door, whispering, “Good night” before it closed completely.

Arthur stood in the hallway. Closing his eyes and breathing deeply, he attempted to quiet his heart. Did she know what she did to him, how quickly and hard he had already fallen for her?

With a sigh, he started down the hall, stretching his arms in front of him to expel the energy built up in his wiry frame. After the elevator opened, he entered it with a little spin, and chuckled, thinking about he was going to need a new journal after writing tonight.

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve@clowndaddyfleck @stephieraptorr @rommies @sweet-nothings04

#arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck fanfic #arthur fleck x ofc #arthur fleck #joker 2019 #arthur fleck x female reader #watchwhathappens

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one-spidey-boii · 4 years

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BUMMER SUMMER || peter parker; ch nine

read ch eight here

masterlist

an; i’ve really struggled with juggling all my responsibilities lately so please forgive me. i just ate questionable fried rice and i’m feeling mediocre at best. have a great day you guys.

warnings; mentions of battle wounds (i.e. blood/scars/etc), smut, mature language, fluff, angst, both peter and oc are 18+!!

word count; 3.1k+

edie's pov

i take in a deep breath and click the call button on my phone after hovering over it with my thumb for a few long and painful seconds. i slowly bring it up to my ear. on the third ring, a small click sounds on the other end.

"ah! you're still alive. yippee!" tony's voice chirps jokingly at me from wherever he and the rest of the avengers were staying. i sit up in my bed and play with the end seam of my shorts.

"i am..." i trail off awkwardly, not entirely sure what to say to the man. he's making me call him everyday, and i don't know how long it's going to last, but i'm already running out of things to tell him at this point. i'm healing, my bruises are fading, the pain is subsiding.

"is peter treating you right?" he asks. i gulp at his question, remembering the moments peter and i shared only a day ago.

"u-uh yeah, wait- um what do you mean?" i stutter out, mentally kicking myself.

"i mean, is he taking care of you? yanno, making you chicken noodle soup or hot chocolate and giving you back massages- actually scratch that last one, i don't wanna think about that." he rambles on, my face flushes and i pull loose pieces of fabric off of my shorts completely in panic. no way can mr. stark find out about peter and i...whatever we are.

"hey! it's not like that." i mumble, doing my best to cover my nerves.

"yeah, sure it's not." tony retorts back with a snort, his voice just above a whisper. i'm at a loss for words, "uh, pfft, yeah, it's not."

"i don't care either way- well, that's a lie, i care a little bit. just keep healing and make sure peter stays sharp out there." i squirm in my spot and continue to update mr. stark on my condition, eager to get off of the phone.

with a final 'goodbye' and 'don't do anything stupid'- he ends the call and i flop back down on my bed. my side only slightly aches when i move now, becoming less of an annoyance and more of a numbing feeling.

i glance around my room at my fresh yellow walls. the color brightens the space and brings a warm feeling to the pit of my stomach. but my bed is still in the middle of the room, making me feel open and vulnerable on all sides. with one big huff i roll out of bed and plant my feet at the end of the frame. i give one push with both hands and the bed goes skidding back to the wall. in the process, my side cramps up and a burning sensation pushes its way through my body, making me wince.

"you okay there?" a soft, yet teasing voice speaks up from behind me. i dip my head down between my arms still placed on the bed and peek at the intruder through my legs from upside down. peter stands there, a lazy smirk spread across his lips. i roll my eyes and flip my head back up to turn around and face the boy.

"absolutely. i don't always need your help, parker." i reply and lean against the end of my bed. after the alarm went off last night, peter and i spent our time making food until he had to go out on patrol, more hesitant that ever to leave. none of us said a word about the disturbance, despite my suspicions. he returned late in the morning, later than his usual schedule. and when he did get back, he went straight to sleep, not even making it to his room. he stayed fast asleep on the couch until late afternoon. i guess he came straight to me after he woke up.

it's only been two days since i've been out, but my body is growing restless at the lack of adventure. jealousy poked at heart knowing that he would be the one seeing and protecting the city until mr. stark deemed me ready to get back out there.

i push the feeling away, not wanting to focus on things i have no control over.

peter takes a few steps closer to me, speaking playfully, "so, mr. stark gave me a call today. he wanted to know if i was taking care of you." once his body reaches mine, his fingertips immediately move to trail along my hips, "what do you think, wolfie? am i taking good care of you?" his voice lowers the closer he leans in.

i gulp audibly at his question, thinking back to my own conversation with mr. stark. my eyes meet his and i can’t t form any words under his gaze. so i just nod sheepishly at him, it seems to be the only thing i can do lately. peter's mouth curls into a satisfied smirk and it makes my stomach drop into my feet. an overwhelming surge of heat passes through my body and i have to lean back farther into the mattress for support.

peter and i didn't really talk about what had happened yesterday. at the time, it didn't seem weird or out of the ordinary. it felt natural, good. now that we've—i've—had time to think about it, well, i don't know what to think. i don't even know what to say to him. it's embarrassing how much control he seems to have over me, after so many years of being able to joke around as friends.

now his closeness makes my heart squeeze both in adoration and frustration. i'm angry at how fast he's able to make me melt into his hands. i used to tease and make him blush, now he somehow turned the tables. just add that to the list of things i can't control.

peter leans in, close enough to pepper a soft kiss to the corner of my lips, "i gotta head out, but i'll be around." he pulls away and points to his ear, where his comm rests.

"see you around." i say with a level voice, now too focused on gaining a hold of myself to be sweet with him. he drops his remaining hand from my hip, choosing to ignore my change in demeanor. with a small wave that reminds me of the nervous boy he used to be, he turns the corner and i'm alone again.

my skin is buzzing. the feeling is mostly concentrated on where peter's fingers had been, but it's spreading quick. needing a distraction from the feeling, i change out of my comfy clothes into something a little more suited for action. i rumble through my luggage and pull out a black sports bra with leggings to match. before i leave, i shove my own comm in my ear.

after making my way to the training room, i set up a few different targets. the first one is a simple circle with three red rings spaced around a red center, i place it firmly on the ground. the next one is the same, except this time i suspend it into the air, letting it sway back and forth. the last one is a little different. it's human shaped. as a fighter who refrains from hurting people as much as possible, i'm hesitant to set this one up. but after what i went through, i need the practice on a human target.

i flip through my phone and search for some music to get my energy up, i connect to the speakers that run throughout the house and crank up the volume. the bass of the music cancels out the continuous buzzing through my body, allowing me to shake the tension away. i stretch in front of the mirror before pulling a table to the far side of the room, opposite the targets.

on the table i set out an array of throwing knives, each one reflecting the fluorescent light from the high ceilings. i run my hand over the edge of one knife in particular before grabbing the handle and nailing the middle of the hanging target in one fluent motion. the knife sticks out from the center as the momentum violently swings the target in the air.

i take in a deep breath and pick up two more, one in each hand. i throw both at the same time, hitting the grounded target side by side with barely an inch between them. i continue to practice on the two targets, using up all the knives on the table in the process. i'm sweating and panting as i go to collect them and start again. i let my eyes pass over the human shaped target, but i quickly look away and focus on the other two once again.

after ignoring the last target for what seems like forever, i stop myself mid throw as i notice how shredded the others have become. i drop my arm to my side and use my other hand to turn off the music.

the silence of the room makes the pounding in my ears almost unbearable as i scope out my last challenge of the night. the lifeless figure has no face. it's only the silhouette of a head and torso, a simple shape. despite the fact, i can still see the features of one person in particular.

i raise my hand and ready myself to throw the potentially deadly weapon held in my grasp. i can feel my heart rate pick up and i stare down the figure before me.

a female, seemingly innocent.

my breathing grows heavier as i fall back on the memories of that night, only a few days ago.

she looked scared, all i wanted to do was help.

my stance falters at the thought. my eyes clouding over as i grit my teeth and shake my head to snap myself out of it.

"see what happens when you try and help people?"

with a grunt, i charge at the inanimate target before me. my legs cross the floor in three simple strides as i jump up to plunge the knife into the head of the target. i slide down and i hold the knife tighter in my grasp, letting it slice all the way down the figure, nearly severing it in two. i drop the weapon.

with heavy breaths, i turn to grab another human shaped target. i kick the other one out of the way, replacing it with the new one.

i try different attacks, needing to set up a new target every time i 'kill' the last one. i do it again, and again, and again- picturing the same face every time.

peter's pov

i can't just come out and tell edie i'm searching for the people that attacked her. but i can't come up with any explanation as to why i'm staying out so late—err, early? i don't know. i do know that every second i'm not out here looking, it's becoming more and more dangerous for her. it scares me.

the sun is peaking out from behind the tall buildings of the city. i spent the entire night staking out two people specifically, but no such luck. now i'm sat atop a building, hesitant to call it a day and go back to edie. but, oh boy, i want to see her. thinking about her makes my heart swell, and now that i'm finally able to show her how i feel, it seems like the whole world let out of sigh of relief for me.

i like the way she reacts to me. it being a huge contrast to the playful, witty banter that we used to share exclusively. now, when we get close- i'm the one who takes control. it's a weird change of pace between the both of us, but i don't mind it one bit. it’s almost like i crave it.

once making the decision to go back to the compound, i swing myself across the city, eager to see edie. i get to the door and press a suit covered thumb over the touch screen. the glass door slides open and i slip into the cold air of the compound, making sure the glass shuts and locks behind me before i go any further.

i pull the mask off my head and stumble into the living room, hoping edie is somewhere close. when i don't see her, my face drops and i turn to jog down the hall towards her bedroom. not finding her again, i raise my hand to the comm in my ear and speak.

"e, you there? where've you run off to?" i turn on my heel again to step into my room down the hall. as i do so, her voice floods through my head.

"training room." she utters, her usual soft voice sounding hardened and cold. i quirk an eyebrow up as i change into more comfortable clothes, confused by the girls tone. nevertheless, i finish up and trot over to her.

as i round the corner, my eyes settle on her standing in the middle of the room, rolling her shoulders back with a knife in her hand. i stand quietly and watch her movements, hesitant to step in and become an accidental target. edie raises her arm to throw and adjusts her feet into a low stance. so quickly, i almost miss it, the knife flies through the air towards a human shaped figure. to my surprise- it clatters against the target and falls to the floor.

she lets out a groan and pulls at her hair, muttering profanities under her breath as she turns to see me staring. her body stiffens under my gaze and slowly she lowers her arms to her side, a doe-eyed expression on her face.

"you're back." she mutters. i take a few steps into the room and gulp at what i see. targets similar to the one she just attacked are shredded and thrown across the room in piles. there must have been fifty of them, each one damaged in a different way.

looking back at her, i force a smile on my face, "you've been busy, yeah?"

her eyes follow the path mine took and she shrugs, indifferent, "mhm. training." i nod hesitantly.

"have you slept at all?" i pipe up, curious at how long she has been here.

"not really, no."

another nod, and i shuffle over to the table that holds her collection of weapons. i'm impressed with her skills, seeing as she has no 'super powers'. but damn, she could take anyone down in seconds. i admire the girl in front of me, hoping she knows just how much i do. not long after, a bug of curiosity wiggles around my stomach.

"do...you think you could teach me?" the words slip out of my mouth before i can think of the consequences. edie looks at me with a stoney expression that makes my heart jump. i regret my words immediately, afraid that i offended her or something.

i try to take it back, "i mean- only if you want! i know it's stupid so you don't..."

the devilish smile that creeps along her face shuts me up, "i'll teach you."

i let out a small breath, "o-okay. i should probably go change." i say as i look down at my baggy clothes and compare them to her tight fitted ones. edie shakes her head and waltzes up to me, the smug smile still gracing her lips. i grow nervous, realizing i'm in her territory now. this is her thing, so i force myself to hand over the reigns.

she gestures to the rows of knives on the table, "take you pick, parker." her cool and confident voice sends a small shiver down my spine. i look closer at the table and gingerly run my fingers along each sharp edge. i stop at a knife with a shiny black blade and red handle and i pick it up to feel the weight of it in my hand. the blade isn't metal or steel and it has small ridges on the surface. i bring it closer to examine it even further.

"that's obsidian, black volcanic glass. it was used a lot in the stone ages," edie takes the knife from my hands and twirls the point on the tip of her finger, "it's sharper than steel, and nowadays surgeons use it in their scalpels...good choice, peter." she smiles up at me. i can feel my cheeks flush. she places it back in my palm and struts to the center of the mat, "we'll start close, hopefully you can hit the target. how's your aim?"

i roll my eyes at her taunting words and walk over to her place on the mat. edie strolls around me in circles, observing my body language- which is less confident than i'd like to admit. she stands in front of me and plants her hands firmly on my hips, twisting them into a desired position. next, she does the same with my shoulders, all the while sticking her tongue out in concentration.

then she comes to the knife in my hand and pulls it away, only to place it back and wrap my fingers around it one by one. it immediately feels more comfortable in my hand. she circles me one more time and hums in satisfaction at her work.

"now, obsidian is brittle, so it's really important to make your shot count or else you risk breaking the blade," edie comes back around my front and leans in close, her finger resting under my chin, "don't break my blade." she threatens with a smug smile curling at the edge of her lips. i can't stop my eyes from dropping down to look at them, and she notices.

edie traces her finger along my jaw line, making me shiver once again. i groan at the lack of control over my body and my eyes widen at the sound. she just smiles and lets her hand fall down my chest to finally rest at her side before taking a step back. she points behind her to a circular target a few yards away.

"give it a go." her voice grows softer, encouraging me to make a move. i tighten my grip around the knife and raise my arm to chuck it at the target. i stop short.

"could you...maybe show me first?"

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