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idungoofed · 2 years

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Mando Comes To Earth

Part 1

So I actually posted this about a month ago, but then deleted as it just felt so BORING. Apparently I have issues with needing to set the scene to the last detail, but this time I cut A LOT, and I think it’s better now. I hope anyway, let me know if you fancy? Im still getting the feel after not writing for so long, so might be a bit flat in some parts. It’s still a long one, a bit slow to start but it’s kinda just the set up for what’s next.

This is part one and me being super self indulgent, the character is based on me such as the introverted, arty thing - and if I was single I’d be wanting that wisteria covered cottage too! No name though, and I think the only description is eye colour? So hopefully it’s easy to immerse into!

*Edited a while after posting, as some things didn’t seem to fit any more/ wasn’t true to what I feel Mandos character is, and because I can hurhurhur, no major changes tho!

Enjoy, I’m off to write and re write part two, byeeeee!

Warnings: None? Like one swear word? Does that need a warning? No smut here… YET! So minors go away please!

Word count: 2,794

Prologue - Mando

The Razor Crest shudders around the Mandalorian and his small passenger. Lights flash as he flips switches to come out of hyperdrive, glinting red off of his shiny beskar armour. It wasn’t ideal using hyperdrive to lose the Imps after the damage they had dealt to the Crest during the chase, but needs must and it meant they had now lost their pursuers.

Working the controls and regaining control of the ship the Mandalorian eased off the thrusters putting it into a slow a drift. Peering out the front viewport, only the distant stars filled his vision. He turned to consult his nav system which confirmed his thoughts: never had he traveled this part of space.

“What do you think kid, any galaxies around here with a planet to lay low on for a few weeks?”

The green baby in the co-pilot seat cooed at the masked man, clutching a small silver sphere.

“Let’s see then.”

Zooming the nav out, the Mandalorian could see a small galaxy less than two days travel from their location; one star, eight planets but only one that’s inhabitable.

Turning his visor to look at the child, “Guess our decisions made for us.”

He swings back round to face the controls he set the coordinates on the nav and locked on to the small planet labeled “Earth”.

You

You dip and clean your paint brush for the last time that day as the sun began to dip behind the forest line at the back of your garden, causing long shadows to creep into your studio window.

A year ago you’d moved away from the monotonous hustle of London. With the constant pressures of adulthood; mainly being your parents wondering when you’d “meet a nice man” and “settle down”, and your friends being busy with their new young families and careers, this move was your escape from societies expectations.

Needing a change of scenery you chose the New Forest in Hampshire, one of Britains largest pieces of woodland and where you’d spent many childhood summers. With your savings you bought a small white cottage covered in wisteria, which backed onto the forest itself; with an out building big enough for a artist studio. All located down a half mile long track, and 5 miles from the nearest tourist trap village where you sold your art at the weekly market for a living.

Back in the present, you closed up the studio and make your way across the garden breathing in the summer air. The only sound made by a light breeze knocking the back garden gate on the post that led into the surrounding forest.

That evening, as you finished an alfresco dinner on your patio you gazed at the sky. The moon was full tonight, and the stars here were breath-taking, nothing you could ever compare to the dim pricks of light in the smog filled London sky.

A low drone fills the quiet, similar to that of a plane. It approaches closer, and the roar of engines passes overhead, but in the faded light you only glimpse a silhouette. It looked bulky and wingless, not what you were expecting. As you watch it pass over the trees at the end of your garden, you see it pivot in the air, still maintaining its original direction, moving further into the forest and begin its decent into what you imagine was the small clearing you’d discovered while walking through the trees when you’d first arrived here. Before you lose sight of it fully you can just make out a faint glow of engines perched either side of its body.

“What the..?”, you say to yourself, standing, not quite believing what you just witnessed. Taking small steps in the direction of where it landed you contemplate what you just saw. That did not look like anything you’d ever seen before.

I could go have a look, you thought. Although the forest was now dark, you knew it well enough, the clearing was only a 10 minute straight line from the back gate by foot. You would go take a quick peep from the trees and leave, no one would even know you were there. And anyway you had a right to know what’s just landed so close to your isolated home!

Mind set, you head inside to collect your trainers and grab a torch, and into the balmy night air through the back door, down the garden and into the dark forest.

Mando

As the Mandalorian guided the Razor Crest towards the planets atmosphere he made out a number of land masses made up from mixture of greens and browns, each one surrounded by the deep blue of an ocean, clouds being the only disruption to the view. He headed towards the side of the planet not yet hit by the sun and pushed through into the atmosphere. He kept high in the sky, and was dazzled by the twinkle and glow of lights that defined the coasts of each land mass.

He set his sights on a comparatively small island, sat between an expanse of ocean and giant stretch of land, and began heading towards the south of it to a large breadth of dark forest.

As he left the twinkling lights behind he swooped down low enough to be able to scan the ground for an opening between the tall trees to land, thankful of the full moons glow giving just enough light to differentiate between tree tops and flat ground.

There.

A break in the trees showed a small clearing just big enough for him to land the Crest. He pivoted the ship so he was facing the way he came, catching sight of a small white building as he dipped below the tree line.

Maybe not completely isolated, but then we’ll need supplies before we set off again.

The building was lost behind the trees as he begun the landing sequence.

You

You’re getting closer to the clearing now. Staring straight ahead, expecting the forest to break any minute, consequently not noticing the tree root about to trip you. The torch goes flying as you flail your arms, smashing as it hits a tree stump, plunging you into darkness. You smack into the hard ground; your hands taking the brunt of the fall.

Groaning you sit up on your knees, and bring your stinging hands to your chest.

Not being able to see, you tried to assess the damage by tenderly moving your hands and feel the stickiness of blood.

You start to stand when suddenly bright white lights blink on five yards ahead of you, revealing the grassy clearing.

Scrambling for cover you duck behind the nearest tree.

“Holy fuck”, you mutter, eyes bugging as you take in the huge piece of metal. It has two giant engines with a sleek silver body nestled between, the night sky reflecting on the windscreen.

Words like space ship and aliens flash though your mind.

The pain in your hands forgotten you edge closer, being careful to stay behind the trees. A hiss emits from the ship and metal groans as a ramp at the back starts the lower. You dash to your right, staying under the tree cover to get a better view of the opening. Light begins to pour out and you hear the clinking of boots on metal.

Your legs are locked in place as you watch the figure decend. They reach the bottom of the ramp and you see the glint of a helmet as they observe their surroundings. The sight of the human form exiting such a vehicle was unexpected; you release the breath you hadn’t realised you were holding and take a step back, breaking a stick with a sharp crack.

You freeze, taking your eyes off the figure for only a second to glare at the offending branch. When you look back up the clearing is void of life again. Although before you can turn and run two strong arms roughly wrap around you, locking your arms against your sides.

“Who are you?!” A deep voice exclaims behind you.

Ignoring the question you struggle against them, “Let go of me!” you scream delivering a well aimed stomp on their foot.

They let out a grunt and spin you around, keeping your arms pinned, but you swiftly bring you knee up into their groin, causing another grunt, this one filled with a bit more pain. The grip on you loosens and you attempt to slip from their grasp but they grab your wrist, pulling you to the ground they pin you again, legs squashed under their weight and arms held either side of your head.

“Please don’t hurt me!” You plead, a sob building in your throat.

“I don’t want to! Just stop struggling, why were you spying on us?!” The voice modulated by the helmet.

The words managed to sink in and you stop struggling for a moment, staring at the T-shaped visor filling your vision. “I’m /not/ spying! My names Y/N, I live on the other side of these trees, and wanted to know who or what just landed in my back yard!” You shout indignantly.

He didn’t answer, instead assessing if you were telling the truth. Seemingly coming to a decision, he loosened his grip on your wrists.

“You live in the house I flew over.”

It’s not a question but you nod, words failing you anyway.

The visor tilted as he looked at your hands above you.

“You’re hurt.” Voice softening and letting go of your wrists. “I can fix them up.”

Not giving you time to reply he stands up, pulling you by the wrists to your feet and abruptly turns to walk into the clearing.

“Wait!” You call, “What’s your name? Why are you here?!”

He stops before the tree line and lets out a sigh, “Call me Mando, and I’ll explain while I fix your hands up, okay?”

Watching him ahead of you, you take in his appearance. He was tall, covered head to toe in shiny metal armour over a brown flight suit. A soft grey cape that had seen better days hung from his broad shoulders, swaying as he walked.

Your mind spins with the sudden events, feeling like you’re in some sort of strange dream as you trail behind

Mando

Leaving you at the bottom of the ramp, Mando heads back into the ship. He checks on the sleeping Grogu in his cot, but mostly takes the time to collect his thoughts.

Of course he knew this planet wasn’t uninhabited, but he didn’t expect to meet someone so soon. Especially a human woman, one that as soon as he spun them to face him made his breath catch in his throat- and not just because of where you managed to hit him.

As Mando walked towards the Crest, hereplayed the moment. Your shocked, wide eyes turning accusing when you locked them with his visor, and small smirk hitching your mouth as you brought your knee up. Even through the pain you caused him he could only think one word: Beautiful.

You

Mando sat next to you on the ramp, opened the med kit and took out various items to clean and dress your wounds, and then held his hands out for yours.

You felt shy and started to protest, “They’re not that bad, you don’t have to-“

“I’ve seen smaller cuts get bad infections.” He said pointedly, still waiting for your hands.

You give in, gingerly holding them out, palms up.

Mando takes the left to start cleaning with some kind of antiseptic. Through the sting you register his bare hands, no longer clad in leather gloves. His skin a golden brown, with a smattering of dark hairs. His touch is gentle, and he mutters apologies when you flinch at the pain.

Mando finished the dressing, and whatever ointment he’d used was already working wonders.

You watch him replace his gloves, waiting for him to tell you about himself like he’d promised. However, when he began packing away the med kit you knew you would have to take the initiative, and there was one question you needed confirming.

“So… Mando, you’re a human from outer space?” Your face heated at the last two words, you felt disconnect from them like listening a child acting out an imaginary world.

You started to think he wouldn’t reply when you hear him slowly release a breath, “Yes, I am human, I was orphaned as a child and was saved by the Mandalorian’s and made a foundling…”

You listened intently as he explained who he is and how he came to be here. Mando didn’t seem to be bothered by your relentless questions about his creed, the planets he spoke of, and The Empire. You could tell he was leaving parts out, but you didn’t mind- it was a lot to take in.

“And this child you speak of, he’s on the ship now?” You ask, wondering how you hasn’t seen or heard a kid yet.

Before Mando can reply a soft babies coo sounds behind you, and you whip your head in its direction.

When Mando said “child” you simply imagined another human. So when you set eyes on the small green baby with large black eyes, small nose and long pointed ears you could only gape at it.

“I thought I told you to stay in the ship.” Mando says without turning.

The child toddles over to the armour covered warrior and clutches at what you now knew as his ‘Beskar’. He turned to you, and with the initial shock fading you found yourself thinking just how cute this little one was.

“This is Grogu, Grogu this is Y/N.” Mando introduced, and the child let out a soft “patuu” sound as if to greet you.

You smile at him, he looked like one of the fantasy creatures from your childhood fairy tales, which made you instantly warm to him.

“So you’re the reason why a space ship has landed behind my house! Well I suppose you can both stay…” you say grinning at Grogu and feigning having to think about it. “…as long as there’s no trouble!” You say, winking at the child.

“Thank you, it should only be two weeks- three at the most. That should be enough to shake the Imps off our trail. I need to fix the ship up enough to get us out of here and back into our star system, and we’ll need food supplies while we’re here and journey back.”

“That settled it then! I’m no mechanic, but I can help bring anything you need.” You say, standing and looking at your wrist watch. You had to do a rouble take at the time, you’d been in the clearing for close to three hours now and it was past midnight. The realisation made you yawn.

“I should get back, but you know where I am if you need me…”

“Wait here.” Mando says abruptly and walks into the ship. He returns a minute later to you and Grogu giggling at each other causing him to smile beneath his helmet.

He holds out a torch to you, “Take this, I think I saw what’s left of yours in the tree line. You can bring it back tomorrow.”

Your fingers brush with his leather gloves as Mando hands it over, a little zing going through you.

Smiling at the invite, and glad you didn’t have to make an excuse to come back yourself, you wave goodbye to Mando and Grogu and head back into the forest towards your home.

Mando

He watched you leave, the torch light growing dimmer as you weaved through the trees.

His mind kept jumping to the image of your face lighting up when you thought of another question for him. The way your eyebrows crinkled together and you worried your lip with your teeth when he described the Empire, who were now reforming and after Grogu.

It was obvious to Mando that you’d never met any off-worlders before, and he was impressed by you simply accepting the fact. He’d left some details out; like that of Grogu’s powers and his job as a bounty hunter, not wanting to scare you off. Although he would tell you soon, was sure there would be time.

When your torch light had finally been swallowed by the darkness he turned, scooping up Grogu and headed inside.

END OF PART ONE

#din djarin #mandalorian fanfic #mando fanfiction #mando fluff #mando x you #mine: pedro pascal #first fanfic #mando x y/n #mando x reader #help i’m in a real adult relationship but love mando #din x you #slow burn #mando #pedro pascal #the mandalorian #fan fic writing #baby writer

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manonamora-if · 2 years

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A bit late since we are well into September already (I forgot it in my drafts...), but here is hopefully the release schedule of my ongoing projects.

Below the cut for further notes/explanation.

September

This month is just for finishing my IF Comp entry. As of today, there are about 2 weeks for me to finish and submit it. While the "public" (on itch) version won't be able until November, you can always play it (and be a judge! * ) during the judging period.

I'll be probably sleeping for like 2 days after that.

October

Whatever extra writing from MelS I get to (re-)code during that month, TTATEH will be released in October just in time for Halloween. It will most likely be only a partial demo (Prologue to Chapter 2) since MelS is busy again.

I will also add 3 more rounds to Exquisite Cadaver. I just need to write the endings for each round and code them. Expect the update in the first half of October.

I got a few issues with the MtP code raised, so I'm going to fix that (and add the new intro animation too... :P).

AND I WILL START WRITING CRWL AGAIN :D

November

If the writing goes well during October, the new Scene may get into Beta the second half of November.

During testing, I will try to add 3 more rounds of Exquisite Cadaver and pop out the sci-fi template that has been haunting me since last month :P

And The Thick Table Tavern will be released on Itch.

December

If the Beta gives me the green light, Scene 5 may be online by December (I would want it to be before the Holidays if I can manage).

And that month again, another 3 rounds for Exquisite Cadaver (which will make 18 total online).

I will probably post another Yearly (very long) Wrap up as well.

2023 Expectations

Like I have this year, I expect a lot of myself next year. I would want to complete Exquisite Cadaver (which should be doable in a rate of 3 rounds/months) and The Thick Table Tavern (I won't be able to add all NPCs I want). I also would love to finally resume working on SPS Iron Hammer and give it the ending(s) it deserves.

While it may be possible, I would want to close Act 1 of Crimson Rose & White Lily next year and start its next chapter. Depending on how busy I get, it could potentially be doable?

I've also been enjoying creating a bunch of templates and learning more on how to code with CSS/HTML. So my hope for 2023 is continue release templates. And maybe learning more JScript to make them more interactive... MAYBE.

Aside, from ALL OF THIS, I would want to participate in more competitions/jams. I've been learning a whole lot by creating smaller projects and they have really be helping my push myself to become a better creator. But that comes with a big caveat of: If I actually have time/the bandwith.

Notes

Of course, the schedule above is a rough guideline. Life may get in the way and make some release impossible. I still hope to achieve this, tho :P

*Please consider checking out and rating at least 5 other entries if you want to judge the competition so your review will be taken into account.

#schedule #projects #update

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polizwrites · 2 years

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WIP Update 22 Jun 2022

A reasonably productive week as I push forward on my deadlines! I touched 4 fics (3 WIPs & 1 new work) for a total of 2229 words. @psychiccatpanda and I posted the sixth chapter of our WinterIronHawk ‘accidental demon summoning’ collab fic. I also posted a fluffy Stuckony ficlet for to fill squares for my @stb-bingo and @buckybarnesbingo cards, and the next chapter of Never More to Go Astray over on Ao3, while here on Tumblr, I posted an excerpt for an upcoming chapter of the same fic for last Friday’s @flashfictionfridayofficial prompt and a @stb-bingo prompt,

I’m sitting at 9 active WIPs (with a couple of maybe TBCs) with my current deadlines being the Steve/Tony/Bucky bingo, which wraps up the end of this month, as well as my A Warm Light ‘zine fic, which is due on the first. I got my @starkbucksbingo - card (event open for signups thru today!) and the @tonystarkbingo which is open for signups through the end of June. (Yes - I like collecting bingo cards!)

On the crafting side, I have one Stuffed With Character commission slots open for July at the moment - am pretty busy with commissions & prepping for cons!

See below cut for the WIPs (arranged more or less by bingos/challenges/etc) I am working on - feel free to send me prompts or plot bunnies as well as asks regarding any of these projects (or any other WIPs I’ve got out there) – they really help feed the Muse and keep me motivated!

The Devil Is in the Details (Sign on the Dotted Line)

This is the WinterIronHawk ‘accidental demon summoning’ fic @psychiccatpanda and I had So Much Fun with! We ended up with seven chapters of Tony and Clint and Bucky shenanigans - kicking off with Ty as an Awful Boyfriend before bringing in a couple more members of the gang! Chapter 6 posted last Friday and we’ve got 1 more coming - so stay tuned!

A Warm Light Zine - Due 1 July

I got accepted as a writer for A Warm Light Zine - dedicated to 2012 Avenger era Stony and coming hopefully sometime this autumn! I was assigned the 2012 canon-compliant category for a 2-5k fic. While I can’t share much about it here, I do want to at least keep track of my word count. I think I’ve got my first draft finished at roughly 3500 words - just need a beta to look it over. There’s a few bits that are semi-self-plagarized and I’m hitting multiple 2012 Avengers tropes along the way. I hope it’s reasonably well-received.

Steve | Tony | Bucky Bingo Round 2 [STBB R2] (Runs thru 30 Jun 2022)

Twelve fills, and two WIPs. Taking advantage of the One Fill, One Bingo opportunity, and might get a Column G bingo as well. Will have to lean hard into this now that I’ve got my AWL fic pretty much complete.

* B4 - Working Out - this came from a Bucky Barnes Bingo server party: Binging Avengers Exercises - the team posts their workouts online and modern!Bucky spends entirely too much time watching the channel - especially Captain America and Iron Man. I banged this out late last week - it’s sitting at 446 words and will probably get posted early next week.

* N2 - AU: Western - crossover with MWAPB Next Door Neighbors – I have a decent idea for this one (semi-inspired by a recent re-read of Laura Ingalls Wilder A Long Winter) and finally got some actual fic words down. It’s sitting at 690 words and is maybe a third to halfway done…?

* N3 - FREE - Filling this prompt with Chapter Five of Never More to Go Astray - my Stuckony MCU/Star Wars fusion. It came in at 1083 words and I posted it this morning.

* O4 - Lazy Sunday Morning - Pivoted on this, combining with my BBB Soft square and wrote a fluffy Stuckony ficlet during the BBB Discord party. A Fruit Dispute came in at 357 words and was posted on Monday.

*O2 - “A Mind at Work” - I wrote an excerpt to fill this square and last week’s Flash Fiction Friday prompt [#FFF157 Need More Space] that is intended to be part of Chapter Six of Never More to Go Astray - assuming I can get it stitched in and completed in the next week 😬 The excerpt came in at 284 words and I have another 245 kicking off the chapter.

Finally wrestled my One Fill, One Bingo badge fic into submission: I’m combining B5 - “Aliens, again?”, I5 - Lifeguard, N5 - Barbeque, G5 - River Rafting, O5 - Wakanda into Ain’t No Party Like a ‘Saved the Universe’ Party Avengers + Guardians in a partying mood = a huge headache for T’Challa. It’s not one of my best works, but hopefully a couple of y’all will enjoy it. It will post sometime next week.

Avengers Bingo [AvB] (Runs thru 24 Dec)

Two fills posted and 0 WIPs - I decided to further challenge myself by pairing up each square with a unique combo of 2 original MCU Avengers! With the help of the STB Enthusiasts Discord folks - I’ve got all 16 squares planned out, at least in terms of who to write about, and half of them have some sort of idea or crossover square to go along with them. Feel free to toss other plot bunnies my way…

* A2 - On the Run - Natasha & Steve - crossover with MWAPB - Farmer’s Market? post CA:CW Wakanda ?

* A4 - Mutual Pining - Steve/Thor - crossover with MWAPB - Thor.

* A3 - Reunited - Clint & Natasha - Endgame Ronin scene?

* B1 - Death - possible crossover with MWAP Crying square – post Snap Bruce & Steve mourning?

* B3 - Road Trip - Bruce & Thor - Post Grandmaster, pre-Thanos space shenanigans

* C1 - Opposites Attract - Clint/Thor - there was a fun Tumblr headcanon going around about a Bumbling Foreigner whose ignorance of local customs results in him flirting with/proposing to the prince - this seems like a perfect matchup!

* C3 - Reincarnation AU - Natasha & Tony - post-Endgame

* C4 - Bodyguard AU - Thor/Tony - young!Tony - crush on Cap plays into attraction (obvious title - Thunderstruck) - holding on this til next round of TSB.

* D1 - Friends w/ Benefits - Clint/Steve - crossover with MWAPB Hawkeye/Clint Barton.

D2 - Romeo & Juliet AU - basic idea: Steve (jock) & Tony (geek) trying out for title roles in R&J - despite their respective friend groups thinking it’s a terrible idea. Both cliques end up becoming friends.

* D3 - Bed Sharing - Bruce/Natasha - AoU compliant.

Man With a Plan (Steve Rogers) Bingo [MWAPB] (Runs thru 31 Dec)

Four fills, 1 WIPs and several Vague Ideas/potential cross fills with other bingos. Prompts cheerfully accepted!

* B2 - Next Door Neighbors - see STBB AU: Western above

* B3 - Farmer’s Market - see AvB On the Run above

* B4 - Powerless AU - if Sunqueen and I decide to continue Wrong Number, Right Call , this would be a good fit.

* B5 - “I don’t really want to wake up just yet.” - this would probably be a good fit with Chapter 5 of Takin’ What They’re Givin’ (‘Cause I’m Workin’ for a Livin’) which has been stalled for a bit at 747 right in the middle of a smutty scene. Planning to circle back to this next month.

* I1 - Steve is here for TFAtWS - this might go well with my BBB “Oh, hell no" square - Steve trolling Bucky & Sam by sending the old man in with his shield? (moodboard & ficlet?)

* I2 - Found Family - see STBB One Fill, One Bingo above.

* I3 - Thor - see AvB Mutual Pining above

* I5 - Dogsitting - possible crossover with BBB “Run” square - Steve & Bucky dogsitting for Lucky? (moodboard + ficlet)

* N1 - School AU/Teacher AU - if I decide to continue on with Technicalities (see Stucky Bingo College AU above) - I could fill this square :: ponders::

* N3 - Online shopping - this might be fun as a crossover with BBB Thighs …? (even tho lingerie is a “nah” for me) Steve and Tony buying a new wardrobe for Bucky that show off his ass-ets?

* G4 - Canon Divergence post CA:TWS - possible crossover with BBB Kill List Bucky wreaking havoc on Hydra bases and Steve & Sam catch up with him

* O1 - Crying - see AvB Death square above

* O2 - Sex Pollen - Teenage Groot pollen = aphrodisiac hi-jinks. Quill & Gamora warn the couple (stucky)/throuple (Stuckony) ahead of time, so no dub-con.

* O3 - Hawkeye/Clint Barton - see AvB - Friends w/ Benefits above.

Bucky Barnes Bingo - Round 4 [BBB_R4] (Runs thru 7 Jan 2023)

Eight fills and three WIPs - looks like I’m already in good shape to start with a Row 4 and/or Column K bingo!

* B3 - Sam Wilson|Falcon - this would be a good candidate for a continuation of After One Or Two False Starts

* B5 - Soft - see STBB Lazy Sunday Morning above

* U2 - AU: Roommate - Still wanting to use the Meet Ugly prompt: 02. I bought a house three months ago but I’m finally moving in and discover you’ve been squatting because you’re homeless -- probably WinterHawk with recovering!Bucky being the squatter in Clint’s apartment building.

* U3 - Steve Rogers - Filled with Chapter 5 of Never More to Go Astray which posted this morning.

* U4 - AU: Arranged Marriage - will probably pick Lady Natasha’s Consort and Lord Steve’s Companion back up for this one.

* U5 - Kill List - see MWAP - G4 - Canon Divergence. Post CA:TWS above

* C2 - “Oh, hell no” - possible crossover with MWAP I1 - Steve is here for TFaWS

* C4 - KINK: Aftercare - probably holding onto this until the TSB bingo 😁

* K1 - Thighs - possible crossover with MWAP: N3 - Online Shopping. We had some fun in the Discord Bingo Party last weekend combining these prompts with Summer Holiday - here’s my summary:

Thanks to the wonders of the internet, Sam had found the perfect outfit for his boyfriend to wear during their beach holiday -- a high cut brief-style swimsuit - grey with a red star on one hip. It would show off his thighs of betrayal perfectly.

* K2 - Comics - sew the Stuffed Marvel Classic Comics Bucky Barnes I drew up last month.

* K3 - KINK: Edging - I have a smutty WinterIron idea for this - saving for the TSB bingo as well.

* Y1 - “Do you trust me?” - Using this for Chapter 5 of Takin’ What They’re Givin’ (‘Cause I’m Workin’ for a Livin’) - Mission Four: Pour Some Sugar: Part 2. Chapter 5 picks up mid-sexytimes with Steve and Bucky and is currently sitting at 705 words. Current Last Line: [a little too NSFW]

* Y2 - Never the fall that kills you - this might be the title for the remix I want to do of Seeds of Love (by the super-talented @hddnone) Holding off on this til I get my TSB card, as I wanted to carry over my Secret Admirer square for this as well.

* Y3 - “Run” - see MWAP I5 - Dogsitting above.

* ADOPTED1 - Peggy Carter - possible crossover with with MWAP - G3 - USO Tour (Peggy regaling Bucky with stories of Steve’s exploits while touring the US) or N4 - Soulmates (WW3some shenanigans!)

StarkBucks Bingo - Round 3 (SBB_R3) - Ends 31 Dec

Got my card late last week and haven’t done much checking to see what I could use as crossfills. There’s some fun dialog prompts I am looking forward to writing for!

I4 - Canon: Avengers Academy - will probably do Stuffed Marvels sketches of Tony and Winter, as I know very little about the game/canon.

Steve Rogers Bingo - Round 2 (SGRB_R2) - Ends 31 Jan

One fill posted, 1 WIPs. I got my square swaps and have Grand Plans for crossovers with the upcoming @steverogersweek event - we’ll see how many of these I manage to get done. I need to hit these hard starting next week!

* A2 - Team Cap - crossover with SGR Week: Day 3: Family or Howlies

* A3 - Domestic - crossover witth SGR Week: Day 2 Lost Items or Clothes

* D1 - Pre-War Era - crossover with SGR Week: Day 1 - Birthday Wrote up a Stucky Bucky POV ficlet for this last week - it’s coming in at 277 words and is kinda sweet if I do say so myself! It will post on 7/4 for the Steve Rogers Appreciation week event.

* D3 - Body Painting - crossover with SGR Week: Day 6 - Art or Pets

* D4 - Avengers Compound - crossover with SGR Week Day 4 - Food or Traditions

* E1 - Scars - crossover with SGR Week Day 5 - Touch or Shield

* E2 - Comics Nomad Steve - SWC sketch of Nomad!Steve

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On other creative fronts: I have a a Gritty in progress with Argoman, and another Gritty in the works. I currently have 1 July slot available. Am also gearing up for a classic monster/horror con in October and a superhero con in March - so need to build up stock for both.

if you’re looking for one of a kind gifts (for a friend or something for yourself!) you can plan ahead for the next holiday season and check out Stuffed With Character over on Facebook for a full list of my designs (now over 80!). They’re mostly Marvel and monsters, but I have some Star Wars, Star Trek, DC and Disney figures as well. Plus I love to take custom design requests for any fandom!

#writing stuff #WIP Update #wip wednesday #Shameless Self Promo

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my-tin-can-mans · 3 years

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She Knows Part 2, (Wolffe x Reader)

OH BOY. First I'm sorry this took me so long I've been busy with college. But! this is the longest fic or anything really I've written so wow. Hopefully you enjoy.

Warnings: angst, mentions of Alcohol, mentions of cheating slight smut (minors do not interact or read).

Note: italics are flashbacks

“So, what do you usually do during leave?” the question threw you a little of guard. You’d been stationed with the 501st for four months now, four months since you’d broke it off with Wolffe after… everything. You had been the head medic in the 104th battalion, but quickly put in a request for a transfer after the humiliation Wolffe had put you through. The only position available was with the 501st, working under their head medic, Kix. It was a demotion sure, but honestly it took a lot of stress of your shoulders and well, anything to get away from the situation you were in.

Working with Kix almost 24/7 forced you two to grow close and form a close relationship. It was more of a brotherly/sisterly love than anything else, though others saw how well you two had worked together and insisted you would make a good couple, you both were comfortable where you were, which you were grateful for, it was nice to have a friend as kind and understanding as Kix.

Tomorrow the whole battalion would be stationed on Coruscant, the general had some jedi duties to attends to and the war was at a standstill for the moment, giving the men time to relax instead of being thrown under another general for a while.

You had been checking bacta supplies when Kix happened to spring this question on you. Freezing your hand in motion as you had begun to type up an order to restock while planet side. You’d never actually had a leave without Wolffe. Most of the time on leave was spent in that dark corner of 79’s, the other half in a hotel bed.

“Mesh’la, come on, up. I promised the men we’d meet them tonight for a round.”

“But I don’t wanna go Wolffe can’t we just stay here? The sheets are so soft and I don’t feel like wearing clothes.” You’d whined.

“I already told them we would be there, now come up before I drag you out of bed.”

“you wouldn’t,” you peeked your head out from under the covers, narrowing you eyes at him, he stood at the foot of the bed, wearing his blacks sans shirt. He himself had just untangled from you and the sheets. How he had the willpower to do so you had no clue. He dawned his famous predatory smirk on his face

“Are you questioning my word Mesh’la, because you know I always keep my word.” He took a step forward, his thighs now touching the mattress.

“of course not Wolffe,” you gave him a sweet smile, “but I bet I could change your mind.”

“oh?” he raised an eyebrow. “do tell.” He placed his hand on either side of your feet, leaning over the bed

“why don’t you come up here and find out.”

With one swift move Wolffe was on top of you now and you brought your hands to his face pulling him in and kissing him, it was rough and passionate, you really didn’t want to leave and you wanted him to know that, hoping he would see how desperate you were and decide to stay. But after a few moments he pulled back, looking down at you with that damn smirk again, “that was quite convincing.”

Before you could retort anything Wolffe had left from his position on top of you, yanking you up to your feet in the process, “but unfortunately like a said before, I am a man of my word and I already gave it to my brothers, sorry mesh’la but you’ll have to show me your negotiating skills another time, I promise ill make up for it.”

“To be honest Kix I’ve never really done much with my leave time, ya know? I just kinda destress and go out every once in a while.”

“Oh? Well do you have any plans for our first night off then? Me and a couple of the boys are gonna be at 79’s if you’d like to join.”

The mention of 79’s made your heart skip a beat. You hadn’t been back there since you’d found out about Wolffe. “I don’t know Kix,” you sighed, 79’s was a clone bar, and also a favorite hangout spot for the man you had been trying to forget about.

“oh come on, you think Jesse’s a horrible flirt now, just wait till you see him drunk, you’ll be laughing so hard your stomach will be sore in the morning.”

You snorted a laugh in response, Jesse and you were also pretty close, but he was notorious for always trying out stupid pick-up lines on you, he took every opportunity he could to flirt with you, even when he had gotten injured and you were stitching him up, “you look so pretty when your concentrated.” He had said.

But the issue at hand still itched in the back of your mind, what if Wolffe was there? Going back to your holopad, typing up the order you were previously working on to make yourself seem less concerned about your next question you asked him, “the 104th isn’t on leave right now are they?”

“no I don’t think so, why?” Kix had since turned around focusing on organizing medical supplies to help you order.

“Nothing, just, ya know making sure.” You’d told Kix about what happened between you and Wolffe. Just about every clone knew you two were dating, Wolffe always had to make it known you were his. So Obviously everyone was curious as to what had happened.

He turned and looked at you, realizing what you meant, “Oh Kriff, this is your first leave without him isn’t it?”

You nodded, too afraid, after months of finally getting yourself together you didn’t want to revert back to breaking down again.

“Hey listen, if you don’t want to be there I understand. But maybe it would help ya know? We’ll all be wasted you’ll totally forget about him I promise we’ll have a good time.”

It was very convincing, you’d seen the 501stparty and 79’s before, they went hard, unlike Wolffe who was usually more private and reserved. That didn’t mean you two still didn’t have fun in your own way on leave.

Much to your dismay you’d put on a dress and Wolffe had dragged you to 79’s anyways. The second you’d stepped into the place the music and dark lighting consumed you. It was loud tonight. The 501st was celebrating a successful occupy over a separatist world and you could tell. The blue armor was spread throughout the crowd, some at the bar hitting on the women already occupying it, and some on the dance floor.

You wished Wolffe danced more with you, you loved to dance but he only ever accompanied you once, and that was after a drinking competition with Thorne who was hard to beat. He didn’t even remember it in the morning.

Without a second glance to all the men, Wolffe grabbed your wrist and led you back to the booth he always sat at. Instead of the usual commanders, Sinker and Boost sat there awaiting their commanders arrival after being promised a drink with him. You slid into the booth and Wolffe sat right up against you.

He was broad so he took up most of the space, he always presented himself in such a way that he was always there, chest puffed out, shoulders broadened and head held high. When he got situated he spread his legs, taking up more space and knocked his with yours. The two of you practically sat in each other’s lap with how close you were to each other. he placed his hand on your thigh, resting just below the sundress you and reluctantly put on earlier.

It was a last resort to get him to stay in with you. It was his favorite. The first time he saw you in it he’d practically kneeled before you, although you were sure he was just trying to get a peak underneath.

Four shots were already at the table when you two had arrived and Sinker, who was sitting in front of you, had passed one your way while Wolffe grabbed his own downing it without even flinching.

As the night drove on, the men began to become tipsy and Wolffe’s hand grew higher and higher. It was when Boost was at the climax of telling you a story from before you had signed on with them that Wolffe finally breeched your center, rubbing his index finger over the already wet spot in your panties.

You jumped, not expecting him to be so bold as to touch you in front of his men. You turned to look at him but he was looking straight on at Boost, absolutely engrossed in the story he was telling. Without making eye contact he leaned over, giving you a small peck on your temple, while at the same time, he pushed you underwear over to the side and slipped a finger into you.

His face was flushed, from the alcohol or the devious act he was performing you couldn’t tell. It was probably a mix of both. Wolffe rarely showed PDA in public especially in front of him men. So you were practically in shock with what was happening right now.

You went to grab a sip of your drink while he slowly pumped his finger a few times before deciding to add another. You let out a chocking noise.

“Hey you okay?” Sinker seemed concerned at your reaction.

“Yeah, yeah just fine, drink must’ve gone down the wrong piper there” you tried to play it off.

He bought it just fine, resuming the conversation that had started up after Boost’s story. When you turned to look at Wolffe again he was wearing that shit eating grin he often dawned and maker you wanted to wipe it clean off.

When Sinker and Boost were distracted enough, Wolffe leaned into you, “come on now mesh’la, I did say I'd make it up to you, and as I recall we’ve already proved I’m a man of my words.”

“Well I guess a few drinks wouldn’t hurt.” You thought back to all the times you’d seen blue armor on the dance floor and envied the fact you hadn’t been there as well, “but I better get a couple of dances out of you guys”

Kix chuckled, “I can promise you, if you stop by for long enough those men will be fighting over who gets to dance with you next.”

You bellowed out a laugh at that. The thought of Jesse, tup and the rest fighting over you was quite the scenario. “Just comm me what time you boys are gonna be there at.”

He nodded his head in agreement, both of you chatting lightly about other topics as you finished the order.

****************************************************

The ship had landed a few hours ago, longing for a good night’s sleep you had left the barracks for the stay, packing up your necessities and checking into a hotel a few blocks out of the main traffic for some peace and quiet.

As you were getting ready for your night at 79’s Kix had sent you a comm message, letting you know they were on their way and would be arriving in 10 minutes. All you had left to do was dress yourself. You rummaged through the bag of clothes you had. It wasn’t much, mostly GAR issued scrubs and a few dresses. You heart stopped when you saw the dress though. The one that was always Wolffe’s favorite. You picked it out, holding it up so you could see the whole thing.

Kriff. This dress brought back so many memories. It almost hurt to look at it. if you were being completely honest with yourself though, you did look damn good in it. screw it you thought. Time to make better memories in it.

After you slipped the dress on you hailed an air taxi to 79’s once inside you scanned the bar, looking for the men who were going to take up your evening. You spotted them at the bar ordering drinks and from the looks of it Jesse was already on his shit and flirting with the bartender.

You walked up to them and their heads turned. Jesse let out a whistle, “Damn, look at you! If I didn’t know any better I'd say you were trying to entice me.”

Kix shook his head at that. Putting his face into his palm. Tup who happened to be standing beside Jesse elbowed him to which Jesse frowned at. “Could you not flirt with my favorite medic?” he turned to you, “you look nice by the way, but not in a creepy I want to get with you way like he meant.”

You let out a giggle. You were already having a great time and you hadn’t even been in the building for five minutes. You took a seat at the bar between Kix and Jesse, Tup to the other side of him.

As the night ticked by you happened to get pretty tipsy, never getting truly drunk for fear you couldn’t make it back to your hotel safely. The men held their alcohol well though and although they were drinking twice as much, they were probably the same level intoxicated as you were. You all stayed at the bar, cracking jokes and telling insane stories, often Jesse would flirt with you or the bartender but it wasn’t too much and you both welcomed the light heartedness attention he gave.

An hour in you heard a voice behind you, “Hope I didn’t miss too much.” You swiveled in the bar seat, turning around to be face to face with the captain of the 501st.

“Captain!” Kix exclaimed, “what took you so long?”

“Sorry boys had a few reports I needed to fill out before the night ended.”

“Well, were glad you here now.” You said.

You got up to give the captain a hug. Something you defiantly wouldn’t do sober, but the alcohol had given you a little confidence. Rex looked surprised by the affection but embraced you anyways. He leaned down and you put your chin over his shoulder patting him on the back staying like that for a second.

It was then that you wished you hadn’t hugged Rex, hadn’t drank as much to give you a confidence boost, and hadn’t stepped a foot in this maker forsaken bar again.

He sat there, in the seat he always sat in when he came here. Only this time he wasn’t with any of his troopers or the other commanders. This time he was with another girl. She was a purple Twi'lek and she was drop dead gorgeous. And the dress she was wearing, or lack thereof because of how tiny it was , made you look like you had just picked yours straight out of the garbage. And you couldn’t help but wonder.

Was that her?

“Kriff Wolffe, what the actual Kriff!” you screamed, you didn’t care about the other guests in the hotel, you were so mad you were practically seeing stars.

“I'm sorry mesh’la I'm sorry I'm so so sorry.”

“No. No! don’t you dare call me that right now. I can’t – I don’t even have words for you right now.”

“please, please let me explain,”

You whipped you head around to him, seeing a whole new layer of red. “Explain? What is there to explain Wolffe. You cheated on me then proceeded to not tell me while apparently everyone else knew and I found out through one of your brothers! Isn’t that enough of an explanation.”

You sat down on the bed, head in hands. He kneeled down in front of your feet. Placing his hands atop of your knees. “I'm sorry.” He whispered. You slapped his hands off you, the thought of him touching you after another woman practically revolted you.

“you already said that.”

“I know, and I mean it I am, it was a mistake, I- if I could take it back I would, Maker I- I hate myself for letting it happen.”

“you should hate yourself.”

“I do, I do. Please, tell me what I can do to make this better.”

For a man who was supposed to be well tactical he kept making all the wrong moves.

“Wolffe there is no making this better. What’s done is done and now it's time to move on.” you finally made your decision, after debating back and forth in the air cab on how to react.

“Yes of course let’s move on, it was in the past but I love you Mesh’la I want you that’s all.”

Kriff that’s not what you meant. “No Wolffe, I mean I’m moving on. from you. I- I can’t continue to be with someone who has done what you’ve done. It's- it's not fair to me.”

By this point tears were strolling down your face. You turned your head to wipe them, not wanting him to see how much he had broke you. “no, no please I- I love you please we can fix this we can work this out please just stay I- I need you.”

“I love you too Wolffe, but there is no fixing this. I loved you so much that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you, I gave you everything thing, I gave you all of me and you took that and you stomped on it, you might as well of placed my heart in a dumpster and set it on fire.”

He put his head in your lap. A single tear rolling down his face. “please, please don’t go, I'm so sorry.”

“I know Wolffe. But I can’t accept your apology.”

Your head was pounding. He wasn’t supposed to be on Coruscant right now. Kix had said so himself. You pulled back from Rex. He placed his hands on your shoulders his face blocking the view of him. He smiled warmly but his expression quickly changed when he saw yours.

“you look like you’ve seen a ghost” he joked.

But you facial expression didn’t lighten, in fact it only got worse. With every waking second, every harsh beat of whatever hit song was playing over the speakers you drew yourself inwards more and more.

“hey hey what wrong?” Kix had left his seat at the bar quickly coming to your side. Him and Rex both dawned a look of concern.

“You said he wouldn’t be here.” You turned to Kix, channeling you emotions onto him.

He looked confused at first, but the realization hit him and he turned his head to look over Rex’s shoulder. Rex followed his line of vision and they both saw him. Sitting there in the booth, while the woman clung to him, practically in his lap.

She was kissing his neck, which honestly surprised you, Wolffe was never one for public displays of affection. Or maybe that was just with you. Because he seemed to be enjoying this.

Rex turned around to face you again, a look of panic and empathy on his face, “Kriff I'm so sorry I- he was on a solo mission with General Koon and they’re stationed here for the night so I told him I’d be here. I'm so sorry, it was an honest mistake.”

It wasn’t the first time you’d heard that from a man in this room.

You felt like the whole room was spinning, be that the alcohol or the nervousness and upset that came with seeing him again you weren’t sure. All the men you had come here with were suddenly surrounding you with sympathetic looks and it felt like someone had placed a spotlight on you and you just wanted it to go away.

This night was meant to help you forget him, be happy and have fun with your new assigned battalion. Kriff was the so much to ask for!

“hey hey come on now,” Jesse finally broke the silence, “forget about him! If I remember correctly I promised you a dance earlier?”

This made you finally break out of your trance. You needed a distraction, and had been waiting for someone to dance with all night.

“actually I would love to Jesse.”

“right this way then”

He held out his hand for you and took you to the dance floor. The song that was playing was loud and upbeat, you and Jesse moved together to the beat, it was fun and you really enjoyed it, when the beat of the song dropped everyone on the dance floor was jumping to it, you and Jesse did the same

When the song stopped, you were practically out of breath, you let out a laugh of relief, actually feeling a little better. You looked up are Jesse and he was smiling at you.

“Feeling better, huh?” he asked.

“A little, thank you.”

A few second later another song had come on. This time it was more slow, the partners on the dance floor started to grab each other.

Jesse grabbed your waist. “Come on huh? let’s give that son of a blaster something to look at, plus this might be the only time I get to be this close to you, despite my attempts” he smirked at you.

You nodded your head, letting out a giggle at his lame excuse to flirt with you again. You wrapped your arms around his neck and he pulled you in closer, your chest practically touching his. And finally you both started to sway to the beat.

A few seconds in Jesse started rubbing his thumbs on your hips, trying to calm your nerves, and it worked. Caught up in the music you started to lightly grind your hips into his, although it was soft guarded by his armor, he still took notice to it. smirking at you and grinding in time with you. His hands started to rise, growing closer and closer to under your breasts, but never reaching, knowing he would be crossing a line, and although Jesse was a flirt, his last intention was to make anyone uncomfortable.

He nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck. You could feel his breathe on your skin, and his nose rubbing up and down. He placed a soft his on your shoulder and the next thing you knew you were being turned around. His hand were back on your waits, but his cheat was now pressed up against your back. He gave you a harsh grind into your ass and you gasped. His arms now wrapping around you, pulling you impossibly tight into him. His head resumed its spot into your neck.

“is this okay,” he whispered into your ear.

“yeah.” You breathed. He kissed you neck this time. but it was just one short one, it was slow, and hot, you closed your eyes. he placed them all the way up your neck, all the way up to your jaw. All the way close to your mouth, and he whispered again, is this okay.

You nodded your head, eyes still closed and you turned you head towards him a little encouraging him. And his lips met yours.

You hadn’t kissed very many people. Wolffe giving you the majority of your experience. and although they were clones, they felt completely different. When Wolffe used to kiss you he practically stole your breath, he put everything he had into kissing you, and it was almost always hot and it made your insides flip, no matter how many times he kissed you, you always felt dizzy and perfectly happy, like his kissed could cure any problemed you had. To say Jesse was a bad kisser would be a lie, it was a good kiss, but it almost made you feel the opposite, all you could think about was Wolffe.

And when the song ended and you opened your eyes you were facing him again. Him. And he was sitting there with his lounge practically down the woman’s throat. And it hurt, hurt to know that he didn’t even acknowledge you. Hadn’t even cared that the person he once begged to stay with was with someone else now. Even though you weren’t actually. It hurt that he used to kiss you like that and now he was kissing someone else like that.

you weren’t sure if it was the beginning of the next song, or if your head was going fuzzy, but all you could hear was ringing in your ears. Jesse had unwrapped his hands from around you and the moment he did you sprang towards the doors of 79’s.

you heard the faint sounds of Jesse, rex and Kix calling out for you but you couldn’t be bothered to hear what any of them had to say. You left the building and walked a few blocks. Finally coming across an empty alley. You pressed you back against the cool metal of the building you were beside and let out a breathe. The air was cool and crisp against your skin, but it felt good.

After all the time you spent forgetting about him you were practically back at square one. And it pissed you off. How dare he have this effect on you.

You let out a sigh, gathering your emotions. And when you finally felt calm enough you went to comm Kix, letting him know you’d be going back to your hotel for the rest of the night, but you were interrupted.

“Mesh’la.”

ending notes: soooo, im not sure if im gonna do another part on this or not, i have some ideas for other fics but im kinda cramped on time at the moment so we shall see.

Tags

@fandom-garbage @dionysuskid21

#commander wolffe #commander wolffe x reader #the wolfpack #wolffe x reader #tcw wolffe #clone trooper wolffe #wolffe x you #tcw #clone wars #starwars #starwars x reader #the clone wars fic #fan fic #my fic #star wars the clone wars #clone wars x reader #the clone wars #clone wars fic #cc 3636

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the-insomniac-emporium · 3 years

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Crimson Ties (Bela Dimitrescu/Reader, Soulmate AU) Pt. 3

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language Warnings: Typical Vampire shenanigans + mentions of animal death Genre: Hurt + comfort Summary: Time to meet the family! What exactly has Cassandra told her mother? Can Bela convince her family to calm the hell down? We'll find out! Spoiler: there's the start of a cute date afterwards Notes: Once more we visit Bela's private study, which I first described in a chapter of Serenade. Added a few more details this time. PS reader is probably low-key a theater nerd with a hint of a goth phase, just saying. Also this chap is a little short, sorry. Previous Chapters: 1: Stem the Flow, 2: Tangled Strands

3: Rumbling Thunder

Heart racing, you step into the dining room, just behind Bela. Both of you are nervous, but find comfort in each other. Still, what you see upon entering only makes you feel worse. At the head of a large table stands none other than Lady Alcina Dimitrescu. Besides her is her middle daughter, the one who confronted you earlier, who sends you a knowing smirk as you walk in. Lady Dimitrescu, on the other hand, is scowling. Her eyes are squinted in a clear display of disapproval. If not for Bela’s hand squeezing your own, it was likely that you would have fainted from fear.

“I see Cassandra has wasted no time in spreading rumors,” Bela said bitterly. You’re amazed by her ability to stand tall in the face of her family’s tension. Yet there was a part of you that wondered if you were worth the struggle, at least for your soulmate. Thankfully, you are not given much time to ponder the thought. No, you’re being pulled towards the closest side of the tabe, guided next to an ornate seat. Neither Bela nor yourself sit yet, however. “Please, mother, do not be hasty to make your judgement. I promise that-”

“Do not presume to tell me of my own business, daughter. The timing of my judgement is my prerogative, not yours,” Lady Dimitrescu interrupted, staring right at you. A shiver runs down your spine at the eye contact. What did Cassandra say to her? You wonder, struggling to breathe past the lump in your throat. Even Bela becomes visibly nervous at the interaction. “Now… are you certain, without a doubt, that this is your soulmate?” Did she really even have to ask? What were the chances that Bela would save you, one person out of at least a dozen in the cellar, for any other reason? Still, your soulmate straightens up at the attention, and replies as confidently as possible.

“Yes, of course, mother. I would not dare risk your anger for any lesser reason,” Bela assured. Then she gives your hand another soft squeeze, before pulling hers back a little, catching the thread that bound you together with her fingers. Lifting it, she tugs it somewhat absentmindedly. Out of habit you immediately return the action. Unfortunately, those around you would be unable to see the display. For all they knew, the two of you could be faking it, simply attempting to get out of the situation unscathed. Surprisingly though, you see Alcina hesitate. Her left hand twitches as if she was thinking of her own red string. Has she ever met her partner? Did she know the pure joy that her daughter had so recently felt?... Maybe she’d be more sympathetic to your situation if she had.

“We will see if your defiance pans out in time, Bela. For now… Why don’t we hear what your pet has to say about themselves, hmm?” Lady Dimitrescu suggested, giving a somewhat devious smile. Next to you, Bela grimaces, then sends you a pleading look. Alas, you cannot read her mind, and can only guess as to how you’re supposed to respond. Bowing is a sign of respect in virtually all cultures, you think, probably a good place to start.

“It is an immeasurable pleasure to formally make your acquaintance, Lady Dimitrescu,” you said, before giving your full name. Then you rise from your bow, once more making eye contact. Out of the corner of your vision you see Cassandra rolling her eyes. “I know that I am a mere human, and hardly the epitome of a prime specimen. But I am determined to prove my worth, for there is no prize on this earth more grand than being allowed to love Lady Bela. Every ounce of my willpower is prepared to devote myself to this task, entirely, so that I may give Lady Bela the courtship and happiness that she is deserving. It is both an obligation and an honor.” Hopefully your soulmate wouldn’t mind you using the same line twice, at least under these circumstances.

In the seconds that follow, several things happen: One, you see Cassandra frown a little, and refuse to look in your direction. Two, Lady Dimitrescu makes a surprised face, but quickly shifts into an expression of satisfaction. Thirdly, Bela’s hand finds your own again, giving it an incredibly soft squeeze. Last but not least… someone you haven’t seen before enters the room. She has red hair, a green pendant around her neck, and eyes that light up with curiosity when she sees you. If you had to guess, you’d assume that she was another one of Bela’s sisters. Here’s hoping she’s a tad bit friendlier, you think.

“Did I miss anything? Ooh, please tell me we’re having this lovely stranger for breakfast?” She asked, grinning maniacally. So much for being friendlier, you think, figuring that she was being literal. Based on the way Bela tenses up in response, you’re probably right. Before she can protest, however, Lady Dimitrescu clears her throat and speaks.

“Ah, Daniela… This stranger-” she says the word with far less venom than you anticipated, but it is venom nonetheless- “is your dear sister’s soulmate. We will not be draining them of blood. Again. Assuming that they behave themselves. Is that clear?” She asked, staring down at the newcomer. There’s a slight pause, tension still lingering in the air, followed by a sigh of relief from Bela. Much to your surprise, neither Cassandra nor Daniela seem particularly upset by this announcement. In fact, the latter simply shrugs and takes her seat at the table. Next thing you know everyone else is sitting as well, including Bela, who gestures for you to follow suit. “I’ll have one of the servants fetch you some more… appropriate food. Cynthia, my dear?” Soon enough a maiden, perhaps a decade or two older than yourself, hurriedly enters the room. With a bow, she addresses Alcina.

“Yes, Lady Dimitrescu?”

“Have Miss Bouregard make an extra plate of whatever it is you sort eat, and bring it here. We have an… unexpected guest,” Alcina explained. At that, Cynthia glances at you, her eyes briefly widening in surprise. Without another word she turns away, giving another bow before heading away to fulfill her task. Once more you’re the only human in the room. Oddly enough, you manage to feel quite at ease, as if surviving one round was enough to guarantee you’d win the overall game. Well, at the very least you now had a chance. Regardless of what was to come, you were glad for that, for this opportunity to be with your soulmate. At the end of the day… little else mattered to you.

———————————

Much to your relief, the rest of breakfast proceeded smoothly. Conversation was sparse, with most of it being hushed whispers from the other side of the table, but you hardly minded. Normally you would find it rude. Now, you were simply pleased that they weren’t being up front with their hostility. More so, it allowed you and Bela to have your own conversation, which mainly pertained to your plans for the day. Several times during your discussion, a glance elsewhere would show you that Alcina was paying attention. Exactly once you even saw her attempting to hide a smile. A sense of pride had swelled in your chest at the sight.

It has remained there, even until now, as you move into Bela’s private study. One quick survey of the room tells you a thousand things about your soulmate. For starters, it’s clear that she’s musically inclined. There’s a harp in one corner, adjacent to a folded music stand, as well as a small bookshelf dedicated entirely to sheet music. A couple medium sized instrument cases are nearby, but you don’t immediately recognize their shape. Further into the room is a rather old looking desk, slightly worn, yet clearly cared for. Possibly passed down the generations? Next to the desk is a massive window with a couple spare chairs. All across the walls were bookshelves and mementos, including several skulls (at least one of them human). Every book you looked over appeared to be well read, with many bookmarks inside, some held together by tape and prayers.

“This… this is sublime, my darling. I could rest here for a month and hardly finish cherishing half the space!” You said, grinning at your soulmate. She’s equally pleased, seeming a tad relieved as well. Perhaps she had worried you’d be thrown off by the skulls? Wanting to reassure her, you approach that particular shelf, examining them closely. However, you do not touch them, not wanting to risk damaging her collection. “Truly marvellous. Dare I ask where you got these specimens?” It’s a joke, but Bela stiffens nonetheless, making you quickly redact your statement. “My apologies, I meant it as a jest. Though you are welcome to tell me more about them if you so desire! I will listen with rapt attention, I promise.”

“Most of them are gifts from Cassandra. During the summers we hunt, her more so than Daniela or myself. I… dislike wasting anything, and there’s only so much to be done with most bones. They have quite a few ornamental uses, however. Useful for study, as well,” Bela mentioned, smiling softly. Then she moves to stand next to you, carefully reaching to grab one of the skulls. “This was from one of our hounds, actually. I raised her from puppy to adult, took her on every hunt, even let her sleep in my quarters on colder nights. When she got sick I…” A pause, mouth open but unmoving, eyes slipping shut. “I couldn’t bring myself to put her down. Even argued with my mother, night after night, begging for another choice. None came, of course, and in the end even I could not deny her the softest embrace of death… Still, you must think me strange, to keep such a thing as a reminder of her.”

“Not at all, my dear. We all remember, and grieve, in our own ways. I’ve often found myself intrigued by skulls, of all sorts,” you admitted, sheepishly rubbing the back of your neck with your hand. “All we are, our minds or mayhap our souls, contained in one hard shell. It’s incredible, and terrifying, all at the same time, to hold one in my hands, or even merely examine one. Oh, what stories these bones could tell, if only they could talk… Though I suppose there are entire fields of science devoted to such a thought…” With that said, you look back at Bela just in time to see her staring fondly at the canine skull. Then she places it back on its perch, dusting her hands off afterwards, taking one last moment to appreciate her collection.

“I’m glad you and I agree on this,” she said softly. Once more she’s looking at you, smiling wide. “Now let’s make memories of our own, to hold in our bones forevermore, yes?”

#bela dimitrescu x reader #bela dimitrescu #resident evil: village #re8 village #tw animal death

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goldenraeofsun · 3 years

Note

A/b/o + celebrities and/or coffee shop 👀

Thanks so much for the prompt, Julesy, and I'm so sorry for the long wait! Part II should be up in the next few days, but hopefully this beginning 7k will satisfy for the time being 😘

Castiel is elbow-deep in suds when Jo plunks a medium to-go cup on the edge of the sink. “Thank you?” he says, bemused.

“It’s not for you, doofus,” Jo says, rolling her eyes. “There’s a customer out back,” she jerks her head towards the service exit that leads to the alley where they dump their trash and Ruby takes her furtive smoke breaks. “I need you to take this to him.”

“Out back?” Castiel repeats dubiously, craning his neck to catch sight of their on-site baker, Benny, who is busy kneading focaccia dough for tomorrow’s sandwiches. Benny, full of southern politeness, doesn’t give any indication he’s eavesdropping.

Jo gives Castiel a short nod, her alpha scent flaring with irritation. “I’d take it out there myself, but he always talks my ear off, and Kevin still can’t draw a latte art that doesn’t look like a dick, so…”

Castiel frowns but nods, and Jo’s expression eases once she doesn't hear a challenge to her request. Still, he has to ask, “But why doesn’t he order at the counter like a normal customer?”

Jo takes a step back towards the door. “You’ll see. Just… don’t make a big deal of it.”

“A big deal of what?” Castiel calls to her, but she’s already disappeared out to the front of the cafe.

Castiel sighs and wipes his hands on a dish towel. He picks up the drink, sniffing curiously.

He nearly gags at the strong aroma of brown sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg, and apples all on top of espresso and milk. They definitely don’t serve that on the menu. Admittedly, Castiel hasn’t memorized the list of hot drinks they serve at Hunter’s Cafe, but this is an assault on anyone with a nose. He’s been their busboy and dishwasher for six months since his second year as a graduate student began, and Jo has only let him mind the counter three times, all as far from peak time as she could get.

But a job is a job. Holding the drink, he shoulders open the back door.

“Hey - oh, you’re not Jo,” a familiar voice says.

Castiel stops dead in his tracks because, despite the sunglasses, the baseball hat, and hunched shoulders, Dean Winchester is unmistakable.

Away from the limelight, Dean apparently favors soft-looking flannels over worn tee shirts and jeans. In one hand, he holds a half depleted sheaf of french fries. Stunned, Castiel doesn't immediately hand over the reason for his appearance.

“Whatever, is that mine?” Dean demands, zeroing in on Castiel’s cup.

Still beyond speech, Castiel dumbly hands the affront to coffee over.

After a muttered thanks, Dean takes a long drink. “Christ, this tastes even better than normal.”

Castiel inhales a surreptitious breath. It’s not every day one gets to catch the scent of Hollywood’s omega darling.

Not that anyone would know Dean's secondary gender just by looking at him. Dean stands a few inches taller than the average male omega - he has nearly an inch of height on Castiel, and Castiel is the dictionary definition of standard alpha physique.

While Castiel might not be Dean’s most knowledgeable fan, he hasn’t been living under a rock for the past five years. It was all over the papers when Dean was cast in his first alpha role. Dean wasn’t the first omega actor to do so, but he was certainly the most prominent. Castiel’s sister, Anna, an actual fan, spent a memorable dinner ranting about how all the prejudiced reporters on the press tour. Apparently they only asked Dean about the diet and exercise routine that transform into a “real” alpha, while, in the next round, his alpha castmates fielded questions about their characters’ moral code and complex development.

But, in the alley behind Hunter’s Café, Castiel’s nose is completely overwhelmed by the fryers of the fast food restaurant next door, the set of dumpsters directly to his right, and the almost offensively apple coffee Dean is currently drinking like his life depends on it. Dean could smell like old gym socks for all Castiel can tell.

“Where’s Jo?” Dean asks once he resurfaces. He jams a few fries in his mouth. Before he's finished chewing, he sucks down some more latte in an unholy taste combination.

“Busy,” Castiel replies. “We have a new hire, and so far Kevin can only draw genitalia on lattes instead of flowers.”

Dean guffaws, nearly inhaling his drink. Swearing unrepentantly, he takes his sunglasses off and rubs at his temple with his free hand. “Christ, I’m too hungover to laugh like that.” He squints over at Castiek before sliding the sunglasses back on his face.

Castiel stares. “If you’re hungover, why are you here at -” he checks his watch “-seven in the morning?”

Dean slurps at his fruity latte before he answers. “Got a meeting at nine. This,” he says, brandishing his mostly empty cup, “and a large fries are the cure.” His hands occupied, Dean ducks his head to fish a single fry out and holds it like a cigarette between his lips.

“That sounds disgusting,” Castiel says, aghast.

Dean inches the rest of the fry into his mouth. “Don't knock it ‘til you try it,” he says with a wink.

Cas blushes.

“Hey,” Dean says, a new thought coming to him, “What’s your name?”

Taken aback by the question, he answers, “Castiel.”

Dean mouths his name once, his brow furrowing at the new syllables. With a small shrug of capitulation he says, “Well, Cas, thanks for the drink.” He toasts him one before tipping the cup all the way back, draining it.

“You’re welcome, Dean.”

Dean grins. “I couldn't tell if you recognized me or not.”

“I did,” Castiel says, clearly unnecessarily.

Amused, Dean throws him a long, considering look. “You’ve got one hell of a poker face.” He unceremoniously shovels the rest of the fries in his mouth and balls up the wrapper. He tosses it with practiced ease into the waiting dumpster.

“Thank you?” Cas says, nonplussed.

“Thank you,” Dean says, pushing his sunglasses up his nose. “You’re the one who saved my hide.” He sidles forward and shoves a bill into Castiel’s slack hand. Without another word, he takes off out of the alley and onto the street.

Once he’s out of sight, Castiel unclenches his hand. Dean tipped him ten dollars.

* * *

“How is this even more pungent than last time?” Castiel demands, nose wrinkling as he sets a now clean muffin tin back on the shelf. It’s been a week since he met Dean Winchester, and hadn’t gotten so much as a whiff of apple pie since then.

He is alone with Jo in the kitchen, since Benny’s early morning shift ends at eleven.

“I added a caramel drizzle,” Jo says, her scent rising with her self-satisfaction.

Castiel stares at her in horror. “Why on earth would you do that?”

“’Cause I’m trying to see what his limit is, and so far - nothing,” Jo says, shrugging. “Get to it. He’s real grouchy if you make him wait too long.”

“And why aren’t you taking it to him?” Castiel says, eyebrows rising. “Kevin’s moved onto multiple hearts now. Admittedly, his first one looked like a labia, but he’s gotten much better.”

“But Ruby didn’t show up, so we’re short staffed,” Jo says shortly. Outside, Kevin yells something indistinguishable though the kitchen door, and Jo winces.

Castiel takes the latte.

Just like last time, Dean is waiting, wearing a different flannel but the same jeans with the hole above the left knee. He abandoned the sunglasses, since the clouds overhead cast the whole alley in shade. They’re hanging from the vee of his shirt collar, pulling the fabric down a tempting extra inch.

Unfortunately, the fast food restaurant next door must have just taken out the trash last night, since the alley reeks of stale bread and rotting fish patties.

Castiel lets the door slam behind him, unable to hold back his corresponding smile as Dean lights up as he sees him.

“Thank god,” Dean says as he reaches for the latte. “I was starting to think Jo was gonna stiff me.”

“We’re short staffed at the moment,” Castiel says apologetically, “so you got me again.”

Dean eyes him over the lid of his cup. “Not a downside from where I’m standin’,” he drawls.

Castiel has no idea how to respond to that, so he doesn’t. Dean can’t mean it like Castiel thinks he does. He’s an actor, feeding people lines is the dictionary definition of his job. Instead Castiel asks, “No french fries this time?” because he’s not nearly ready to leave yet.

“Already ate ’em, while I was waiting,” Dean says dismissively.

Castiel shoves his hands in his pockets. “I’m sorry.”

“No harm, no foul,” Dean says with a little grin. “I got my caffeine fix eventually, and that’s what I really care about.”

“You look remarkably more put together than last time,” Castiel says as he leans against the doorway, watching Dean sip at his drink.

“Didn’t drink as much,” Dean says with a grin. He tips back his cup and takes a long pull. “Fries can only get you halfway there. Christ, that’s the stuff.”

Castiel can’t help but make a face. The latte smells horrendous; it can’t taste that much better.

“What?” Dean asks, eyes narrowing.

Castiel probably shouldn’t tell Dean what is exactly on his mind. Castiel has found very few people appreciate his default brand of honesty - Hunter’s Café customers, especially. But Dean isn’t technically his customer - he’s Jo’s - and Castiel has reached the point in his life where he doesn’t need to hang onto people who don’t like him and vice versa. Dean isn’t even providing extra publicity for the establishment, since he’s getting serviced in the alley behind the kitchen.

Technically, Castiel needs a celebrity acquaintance as much as he needs a free bag of cat food (he doesn’t have a cat).

But he does like having one.

A celebrity acquaintance, that is. Cats are inherently suspicious.

Reluctantly, Castiel says, “I can’t imagine that latte tastes very good.”

To his surprise, instead of demanding Jo bring him his coffee from now on, Dean laughs. “Not a fan of apple pie?”

“Not in my coffee.”

Dean takes an obnoxiously loud slurp. “I think it’s delicious.”

“I think your taste buds must be severely incapacitated.”

Dean waggles the near empty cup in front of Castiel’s face in what must be an enticing manner to someone with no sense of smell or taste. “Wanna try?”

Castiel valiantly holds back his recoil. “No, thank you.”

But Dean’s genial expression doesn’t waver. “‘M feeling pretty much human again, so it’s up for grabs.”

“I’d sooner lick the dumpster,” Castiel blurts before he can filter himself.

Dean whistles, rocking back on his heels. “Harsh.”

Castiel sighs. Honesty was a mistake. He mutters, embarrassed, “I’m just not a very big fan of sweets.”

“No?”

“I’ve been living with my cousin while in graduate school at Columbia,” he explains, his tone apologetic for his earlier comment, “and he has a horrendous sweet tooth. I don’t think he’s ever seen a carrot that wasn’t in a cake first.”

A wide grin splits Dean’s face. He laughs.

What Castiel wouldn’t give to scent Dean’s joy for himself. “He would probably love that latte,” Castiel continues wryly.

“Probably,” Dean agrees. He taps his fingers against the sides of the cup as he asks, “So you’re in school? For what?”

“Do you really want to know?” Castiel asks seriously. He’s had too many conversations with strangers and casual friends who have asked the exact same question and regretted asking it almost immediately.

Dean ducks his head. “I don’t know any graduate students, and I,” he breaks off, his cheeks going pink, “I never went to college, so I have no idea what it means.” He sucks on the dregs of his latte, gaze dropping to the vicinity of Castiel’s knees.

“Oh,” Castiel says, feeling lighter. “In that case, I’m studying ethnomusicology.”

Dean’s eyes narrow in suspicion. “Are you fucking with me? That doesn’t sound real.”

“It’s a legitimate area of study,” Castiel assures him. “I research music as it pertains to culture and diverse elements of social life. Ethnomusicology focuses not only on the music itself, but music as a social process, as a medium for humans to relate to each other. In short, it examines how music functions in a particular society.”

To Castiel’s surprise, Dean doesn’t get the glazed-over look most people do when he explains his field of study. “So what kind of music are you talking about?”

Now it’s Castiel’s turn to flush. His colleagues, while they respect his academic reputation, have nearly all looked down on his chosen object of study. “One of the main tenets of ethnomusicology is a global perspective on music-”

“What, like Tibetan throat-singing?” Dean interrupts. At Castiels’ stare, he explains quickly, “Sammy had a phase.”

Castiel chuckles. “Yes, I do know a professor at Cornell who is studying just that. But my focus is much closer to home. I study,” he inhales a small breath, “tribute bands.”

Dean’s mouth twitches. “What.”

“Tribute bands offer a fascinating definition of the nature of performance, the difference between authenticity and identity,” Castiel says, already on the defensive. He can already hear his voice trying to fall into his usual academic patterns, and tries to rein himself in, “and historical consciousness in popular music. Here -” He pulls out his phone.

Dean listens in complete silence to Yellow Dubmarine’s cover of I Want You.

“Anyway,” Castiel coughs, embarrassed he made Dean sit through all that, “I also teach Rock and Roll from the 1950s to 1980s. There is a great deal of crossover with my specialty since most tribute bands recreate acts from the 60s to the 80s.”

“Dude,” Dean says in a rush, “if you think that makes you less interesting, you’ve got another thing coming.”

Castiel blinks.

“What bands are we talkin’ about?” he asks eagerly. “More Beatles? The Stones? The Who?”

Castiel nods. “I’m hoping to go to a Lez Zeppelin concert next month.”

“Led Zeppelin?”

“Lez,” Castiel says, emphasizing the ‘z’, “an all-female Led Zeppelin tribute band.”

Dean frowns. “They have a gimmick?”

Castiel shakes his head. “They’re completely sincere, I assure you.” He smiles wryly. “I interviewed Misstallica for a paper I’m writing on diverse, for lack of a better word, musicians in the tribute world, and they felt right at home with the long hair and tight pants. I’ve never met people who more adore the songs they perform.”

“Huh,” Dean says, rubbing his chin.

“Except maybe Air-O-Smith,” Castiel adds, “an American all-omega tribute band of Aerosmith.”

Dean’s eyes widen to the size of dinner plates.

“My favorite all-omega tribute band, though, is Omega You Eight One Two,” Castiel muses, “a Van Halen cover band.”

“Yeah, I got that,” Dean says faintly.

“Their lead guitarist, as you can imagine, is phenomenal.”

Dean shakes his head, his expression going slack. “Wait, seriously? That’s a thing? All omega acts?”

“Of course,” Castiel says. “That’s one of the most compelling aspects of tribute bands, when they flip the traditional male-alpha dynamic of the original, and how they translate that into their own act while keeping the whole performance authentic to the creators. It’s a fascinating process to watch and study.”

“I bet,” Dean says fervently. “Hey, d’you think-”

The back door opens before Dean can finish his sentence.

Jo pokes her head out, looking askance at the pair of them. “Are you still out here?” She glares at Dean. “Stop complaining about your diet, and let Castiel come back to work.”

Castiel’s mouth purses. “You’re on a diet?”

“Not on cheat day,” Dean tells him, lifting his empty cup. He turns to Jo. “And I wasn’t complaining at all. Cas was actually telling me about tribute bands.”

“Really?” Jo asks, her nose wrinkling.

Dean tosses his trash in the dumpsters. “They sound awesome.”

“I like them,” Castiel says lamely, off-footed now the conversation is clearly wrapping up.

Jo rolls her eyes, alpha irritation practically radiating off her. “Good for you.”

“Alright, well, I’ll let you deal with Joanna Beth on your own,” Dean says as he pulls out his wallet and hands Castiel a folded bill. He gives a mocking salute as he takes a step back, “Good luck, dude.”

“Thank you?”

“Come on, fanboy,” Jo growls once Dean’s disappeared from view, “back to work.”

* * *

“Can’t you take it?” Castiel asks, his tone verging on pleading, as Jo follows him back into the kitchen. It’s too early in the morning for another meeting, closer to first time Castiel met Dean at seven am compared to their last meeting at a little before eleven.

This past weekend, Castiel went down a spiral of Dean Winchester content. He read up on all of Dean’s recent projects, scanned headlines about rumors of his next film - some action thriller that Castiel presumes is the reason for Dean’s diet, and watched interview after interview. Dean on Stephen Colbert. Dean on Good Morning America. Dean on some very confusing show where they forced him to eat spicy chicken wings, which just seemed like an exercise in pepper-based sadism.

Castiel didn’t really understand the Saturday Night Live skit where Dean played one half of a demon-hunting brother duo, but the live studio audience laughed uproariously at multiple points.

Jo all but slams Dean’s latte on the ledge above the sink. “You know the health inspector is here. I can’t let Ruby near the guy, and you know how Kevin gets around figures of authority.”

Castiel sets down his tub of dirty dishes. “He nearly peed himself when he had to tell you he dropped a tray of scones over the floor last week,” he says flatly.

“Exactly,” Jo says. “Benny is busy,” she says, tipping her head to where Benny is adding more flour to a huge bowl.

“Cheers, darlin’.”

She turns back to Castiel. “So, you’re it today, champ.”

“Great,” Castiel grumbles.

“What?” Jo asks, her hands on her hips. “You seemed to get along with Dean. I actually didn’t know you could talk that much before I sent you back there.”

Castiel carefully transfers the dirty plates to the sink. “Getting along with him isn’t the problem,” he says darkly.

“Getting along with him too well is the issue?” Jo asks, her eyebrows rising.

Castiel scowls at her observation. Her emotional intuition is what makes her an excellent café manager, so he can hardly fault her for that. He doesn’t respond to her question.

“Take it to him,” Jo says, her tone softening. “He likes you.”

Castiel raises his head to stare at her. “How do you know that?”

Jo pulls her phone from her back pocket and waves it in his face. “We talk,” she says. “How do you think he orders every time? He’s not getting those lattes for free, not after I spent so much time getting them exactly right.”

Castiel can’t hold back his grimace. The latte still smells awful, like a vat of boiled candied apples.

“Look,” Jo says, lowering her voice, “Dean’s famous, sure, but he’s actually a very private person. He runs his mouth to anyone who’ll listen, but he never really says anything important. So he doesn’t really connect with a lot of people. If he says he likes you, I’m gonna say that’s a good thing - if you tell him I said this, I’ll kick your ass - and make you his designated errand boy.”

Castiel bites his lip. “But I don’t -”

“Dude, don’t make me pull the boss card,” Jo says, just the barest hint of threat in her words.

“Fine.” Castiel snatches the latte off the counter. “But I want a raise.”

“You can get a free sandwich.”

Castiel glares daggers as he shoulders open the back door.

But the alley is empty.

Castiel breathes through his mouth as he steps out. The overflowing dumpsters carry the odor of moldering cheese and more rancid fish, and the fryers next door are still going strong. He doesn’t find Dean lurking behind the trash for some strange reason, and he’s about to head back in and dump Dean’s latte down the sink when a shout makes him turn around.

“Hey, Cas!” Dean calls, jogging in from the brightly lit street.

“Hello, Dean.” He hands over the latte.

“Thanks - sorry.” Dean rubs the back of his neck with his other hand. “Some fans caught me sneaking in here, and wanted a selfie.”

“Oh,” Castiel says for lack of anything better to say.

Dean tips back his cup, his expression falling into pure bliss. “Christ, that’s so much better when I’m not hungover.”

Castiel stares. “You’re drinking that with all your capacities intact?”

“Ain’t no better way to enjoy pie,” Dean says, grinning widely.

Castiel rolls his eyes. “That’s not pie.”

“It’s as close as I’m gonna get at eight in the morning on a Thursday,” Dean says with a shrug.

Silence falls between them, and Castiel can’t help glancing over Dean’s shoulder, tentatively scanning for the people who caught his attention earlier. Plenty more would have approached Dean if he didn’t have Jo’s latte waiting for him; Castiel would bet his job on it.

Dean is a celebrity.

Castiel is a grad student who can’t even afford to support a guinea pig on his stipend and café salary.

After a long beat, Dean asks, a touch hesitantly, “So, what’ve you been up to?”

Stalking you on the internet.

“Nothing,” Castiel lies. At the slight fall in Dean’s expression, he adds, “I cleaned my kitchen over the weekend.”

Dean chuckles. “You’re a weird dude, you know that?”

Hurt, Castiel takes a step back. Jo probably needs him for… something.

“Not in a bad way!” Dean says quickly. “Shit,” he swears under his breath, “please don’t stop giving me coffee.”

Castiel hesitates. “Why is it weird that I cleaned my kitchen?” He frowns. “I suppose you employ someone to do that for you.”

Dean seesaws his free hand back and forth as he sips at his latte. “Not always,” he lowers his voice, “I actually like cleaning - it helps me relax and shit. There’s nothing like blasting some tunes and scrubbing out that stain on the counter that’s been annoying you forever.”

Castiel lowers his voice too. “Is this a secret?”

Dean grimaces. “Not really. But, you know, it’s one of those omega things.”

Castiel doesn’t know. Well, he knows it is a stereotypical omega trait to like housework, but he has no idea why Dean would whisper it in a back alley like he’s confessing to defrauding an elderly relative. “And that is bad because…?”

Dean takes a long pull from his cup. “I don’t want to hammer the omega thing home too hard, alright?”

“But you are an omega,” Castiel says, feeling a little stupid for saying it out loud.

“Yeah,” Dean sighs, “but if I lean into it, I’ll stop getting alpha roles.”

“You only want to play alphas?” Castiel asks curiously.

Dean’s mouth twists. “They’re the better parts. Omegas are always the damsels in distress or get killed off first for the plot.”

“I’m sure not all films are like that,” Castiel says. God knows, Anna made him sit through enough films with an omega protagonist that did not fit the typical romantic comedy restrictions.

“Most.”

“The last movie I saw,” Castiel says, hesitant because Dean must know more about this than him, “my sister recommended it, it had an omega lead who led a team of paranormal investigators. A sort of horror-comedy.”

Dean’s face loses some of its hostility. Almost intrigued, he asks gruffly, “D’you know who wrote it?”

“Not off the top of my head.” Castiel pulls out his phone to look it up. He reads aloud, “Ghostfacers, directed by Ed Zeddmore, written by Harry Spangler. Starred Maggie Zeddmore and Alan Corbett.” He pauses, trying to remember the details. “I think they both were omegas. I’m sure there are more films like Ghostfacers out there for you to make.”

Dean sips at his latte. “A few. None with big enough names attached to really get on my radar.”

“Well, if you signed on, wouldn’t there be a big name attached?”

“Yeah,” Dean says in a tone that clearly conveys he’s thought of this possibility before. He runs a hand through his hair. “It’s just - what if I take one of these roles, and it gets all this attention just ’cause I’m in it, and it flops?”

Castiel tilts his head. “That would hardly be your fault. Most failed films are hardly the work of one person. Usually, it’s a combination of a bad story, bad production, and bad acting.” He levels Dean an appraising look. “Right off the bat, you control two of those elements - pick a good script and act as well as you always have.”

Dean blinks. “You’ve seen my stuff?”

Castiel’s brow furrows. “I thought I already said I knew who you were?”

“Yeah, but,” Dean says, his voice petering off with embarrassment, “that didn’t mean you liked my movies.”

“The majority of America liked your last movie, Dean,” Castiel says dryly. “Either that, or you have a very hardworking and wealthy mother who poured a hundred million dollars into ticket sales.”

“I mean, Mom’s a fan, but not that big of a fan,” Dean says, chuckling. “I’m pretty sure she’d rather get a twenty-minute call from yours truly than sit through a two-hour flick with my name on the poster.”

Castiel hands over his phone. “Here,” he says, tilting it so Dean can see the summary of Ghostfacers.

Dean brightens as he reads through it. “The Alpha dies first?”

“He thought he could deal with the ghost on his own.”

“Typical alpha macho,” Dean snorts. His head snaps up as he gives the phone back. “No offense.”

“No offense taken,” Castiel says easily. “With my lifestyle, posturing is a waste of time. I’ve long ago resigned myself to not being the primary breadwinner in any future household.”

“Really?”

Castiel throws him a look. “I’m in academia, Dean. Tenure is hardly a guarantee. Even so, there isn’t a wealth of money out there for ethnomusicology grants.”

Dean tips his head in acknowledgement. “It’s awful big of you.”

“Just logical,” Castiel says evenly. “It shrinks my dating pool considerably, but I’d rather do what I love than compromise that much for any potential partner.”

Dean inhales a deep breath, his eyes unfathomable. “I get that.”

“If it means I can’t afford to mate a house-omega, I’ll just have to keep cleaning my kitchen myself,” Castiel finishes with a shrug.

Dean grins. “I mean, if you spot me a six pack and don’t tell my trainer about it, I’ll clean your kitchen.”

Castiel turns bright red. He can’t bring himself to respond to that offer, so he changes the subject.

* * *

Castiel doesn’t even bother pretending to protest as Jo barges into the kitchen, the telltale scent of sugary apples wafting around her like a palpable shield. Castiel already set himself for heartbreak where Dean Winchester is concerned. He might as well take advantage of every interaction he has left.

He went to sleep late last night, watching one of Dean’s earlier movies. He was slimmer and younger, but he still shone with his signature charisma and talent. For the first time since Castiel started the morning shift at Hunter’s Café, he snoozed his alarm.

Hurrying through his morning routine, Castiel couldn’t help resenting Dean just a little. If only Dean hadn’t chosen a profession where his literal job is to be whatever his audience wants him to be.

As Castiel pushes open the door, Dean is waiting outside. Dark sunglasses shield his green eyes, and a violet bruise blooms over his left eyebrow. As the door slams shut behind Castiel, Dean winces. His left hand holds a half-empty paper container of french fries.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel says. “You don’t look good.”

“Tell me about it,” Dean says darkly. “Gimme.”

Castiel pauses. “Did your hangover eliminate your manners?”

Dean flushes bright red. “No,” he mutters. “Sorry, Cas. I just feel like shit.”

“You look like shit,” Castiel says frankly as he hands it over.

“Thanks,” Deans says, his voice sour as old lemons. “I told Charlie tequila shots before Monopoly was a bad idea, but did anyone listen to me?” He gestures to his face. “Next thing I know, Jo’s throwing Charlie’s bag of DnD dice at my head.”

“You got that playing Monopoly? Wait, Jo did this to you?” he demands, gesturing to the cafe behind him. “Jo Harvelle?”

Dean just glares over the rim of his coffee cup. “Yeah, Katniss got me good.”

“God, why?”

One corner of Dean’s mouth lifts in a distinctly smug smirk. “’Cause she was going bankrupt, and she had to sell her last property to me.”

“So this was because of Monopoly,” Castiel says dubiously. In his experience, a board game has never led to actual violence.

Dean shrugs. “Game nights get intense. Why do you think I’m always bangin’ down your door the morning after?”

Castiel can’t believe it. “You’ve been getting this drunk at a game night? Every time?”

“So what?” Dean shoves four french fries in his mouth. “Whaddya think I was doin’?”

“Partying?” he suggests.

Dean snorts. “Maybe six years ago when I was doing B-level flicks and trying to meet as many people as I could. Now I have a back-to-back shooting schedule and hangovers if I don’t pace myself.”

Castiel watches Dean polish off his fries at a truly impressive and horrifying speed. He can’t help asking, “Why was Jo at your game night?”

“’Cause she’s a menace who knows how to pick locks?” Dean heaves a weighty sigh. “I’ve known Jo since we were kids. She and her mom - who started Hunter’s Café - were my neighbors.”

“I had no idea.”

Dean gestures to the alley with a wry hand. “Jo likes to keep it under wraps.”

“I see why Jo keeps making those drinks for you,” Castiel says, nodding at the half-finished latte in Dean’s hand.

“You didn’t make it?” Dean says, and does he sound almost disappointed?

Castiel shakes his head. “Jo is keeping the recipe close to the chest.”

“Probably worried everyone’ll want one if they get the taste.” Dean tips the cup back.

Castiel can’t help his noise of disgust. At Dean’s sharp look, he says aloud, “She’s probably worried everyone will never come back if they try it.”

Dean’s laugh cuts off with a wince. He raises a hand to his head. “Christ, last night was a mistake.”

Castiel surreptitiously scents the air for a better gauge of how discomfited Dean really is, but, as always, all he gets is trash and fryer oil. “How are you doing? Apart from the injury, headache, and general hangover-related malaise.”

“Oh, apart from that?” Dean echoes mockingly, but his words lack any heat. He crams a few fries into his mouth. “I asked my agent to send me a few more scripts with omega roles,” he mutters.

Castiel smiles. “That’s great.”

Dean hums his agreement. “Hopefully, she’ll pick out a decent one, and I can get something set up for after Two for the Show wraps.”

“Is Two for the Show the reason for your diet?”

Dean huffs. “Yeah. I have a bunch of shirtless scenes, so that means three months with the diet coach from hell.”

Castiel makes a noise of sympathy. After a moment, he asks, “Is it worth it?”

Dean chews a fry, scowling between bites. “Not really,” he says in a low voice. “Sammy’s the farmers market maniac in the family.” Wistfully, he continues, “Give me a good cheeseburger deluxe every day for the rest of my life with a side of pie, and I’ll die a happy man.”

“I didn’t think apple pie came as a side.”

“Not for you, maybe,” Dean says with an obnoxiously loud slurp of his latte.

Castiel doesn’t bother holding back his smile.

Dean sighs, rubbing his temple with the heel of his hand. “It’s just like, I don’t look like a traditional omega, so I figured I might as well try for the alpha roles.” He swallows. “’S a win-win situation. I look the part and the characters are better - what’s the downside?”

Castiel cocks his head. “Other than your restricted diet and inadvisable levels of drinking?”

A humorless smile pulls at Dean's mouth. “Not pullin’ the punches this morning, huh?”

Castiel colors, his face heating with shame. “I’m sorry. I didn’t sleep well.” An inadequate excuse, but it’s not like he can tell Dean the real reason for his more uncharitable thoughts.

Castiel has never been one to lean into his alpha instincts. Possessiveness, aggression, arrogance - Castiel has had his (mostly regrettable) moments, but they hardly define his character. But over these past few weeks, he’s had to repeatedly tell himself that he can’t solve Dean’s problems. Dean is a wildly successful adult with millions of fans, while Castiel can’t even handle Hunter Cafe's front counter during the morning rush.

Dean would hardly welcome a nobody little alpha telling him to just… do what he wants and damn the consequences because he deserves to be happy with his life and his work.

Dean plucks out the rest of his fries and balls the wrapper against his hip. He lobs it in the dumpster. “No, I get it. I’m complaining about things that most people would kill to have.” He glances towards the mouth of the alley, his mouth set in a thin line.

But before Dean can leave, Castiel says quickly, “That’s not the way I see it. Your specific frustrations aren’t universal, but hardly anyone’s are. Society is inherently unfair, and it’s understandable to be angry about it.”

God knows Castiel railed enough about the unfairness of Dean Winchester to Gabriel enough over the past few weeks.

Even now, hungover and bruised, Dean is beautiful.

Castiel steels himself. “And, for what it’s worth, I don’t think not looking like a typical omega is a bad thing.”

Dean turns to him in surprise, and Castiel would give up that free sandwich Jo offered him to be able to scent what exactly Dean is feeling. But, after a second that stretches into an eternity, all Dean gives him is a quiet, “Thanks, Cas.”

Castiel nods, chastised by Dean’s reaction. “I should get back to work,” he says awkwardly.

Dean mutters something that might be a swear underneath his breath. Raising his voice, he says, his tone apologetic, “’Course. Sorry for keeping you.”

Castiel shakes his head. “It’s alright. I,” he pauses, “always enjoy talking to you.”

Dean’s mouth lifts into a small smile, and it’s like the sun rising through the early morning fog. “You too, man.”

* * *

After his next shift, Castiel asks Jo to show him how to make Dean’s apple pie latte.

Castiel’s first attempt is a disaster. He burns the espresso and adds too much nutmeg. Jo makes him try it anyway, as a non-monetary payment for her time. As Castiel gags, a smirking Jo dumps the bitter, weirdly savory mess down the sink.

“Passable,” Jo declares at Castiel’s second try. “You need more of the apple concentrate, though.”

“It’ll be too strong,” Castiel protests even as he shakes more powder in and gives it a stir. He hands it back to Jo for evaluation.

“You could barely taste it!” Jo says. She raises it to her lips. “Mm, that’s the stuff.”

“It is?” Castiel asks hopefully.

Jo nods and pushes the cup towards him. “That’s what it’s supposed to taste like.”

Castiel frowns as the overly sweet apples hit his tongue. He can barely taste the coffee underneath all the other layers.

“Trust me,” Jo says, flipping her hair behind her shoulder as she sets Castiel up for a third cup. “Your scent’s getting in the way, but it tastes exactly like an apple pie.”

“My scent?” Castiel echoes, baffled.

Jo throws him a look as she pushes a clean coffee cup into his hands. “Yeah, you already smell, I dunno, crisp but sweet? A little like apples. Makes you think the latte dials it up to eleven when it’s more like a nine for everyone else.”

Castiel hadn’t thought to put those pieces together, but it makes an astonishing amount of sense.

He brings his last apple pie latte home to Gabriel, and his cousin makes him write down, step by step, how to make it. In between actual licks into the cup to get the dregs, Gabriel swears to visit him at Hunter’s Café more often.

When Jo next ducks her head into the kitchen to tell Castiel that Dean will swing by in fifteen minutes, Castiel gets to work. He awkwardly sidles behind the front counter and maneuvers around Ruby and Kevin, nearly knocking Kevin’s elbow as Kevin attempts some elaborate leaf pattern.

Castiel draws a rudimentary apple on top of Dean’s latte, and if it looks more like a misshapen mango, nobody will see it but Dean.

For the first time, Castiel heads out to wait for Dean at the mouth of the alley.

Dean doesn’t keep him in suspense for long. He makes his way down the street, shoulders hunched, and head bowed. Gaze fixed on the dirty sidewalk, Dean doesn’t make eye contact with anyone as he turns the corner.

Dean isn’t even wearing sunglasses or a hat to hide his face, but everyone walks straight past him.

It’s the most riveting performance Castiel has ever seen.

A few steps away, Dean catches sight of him, and it’s like some magic switch is flipped on, and he is Dean Winchester again.

Smiling brightly, he jogs the rest of the distance and follows Castiel as he slinks further back into the alley. Dean wrinkles his nose as they get closer to the dumpsters and the smell of an entire rancid fast food menu hits him. “Hey, Cas,” he says as he takes his latte. “Thanks.”

“Of course,” Castiel says, tipping his head.

Dean stares down oddly at the demented pear and takes a sip. Face going slack with a bliss Castiel doesn’t even need to smell, Dean groans.

Castiel freezes and sends up a silent prayer of thanks for the apron covering his lower half over his pants. “It’s good?” he tries futilely because Dean is clearly beyond speech.

Dean just gives him a thumbs up as he lowers the cup. He licks his lips, chasing the taste, and Castiel has seen pornography less graphic.

“I might have to tip Jo this time too,” Dean says, staring at the latte in his hand in wonder.

Castiel coughs. “I - I made this one, actually.”

Dean chokes on his next mouthful. “Are you serious?”

Castiel nods because if he opens his mouth he’s not sure what exactly will come out. Probably something highly embarrassing.

“This is the best one I’ve ever had,” Dean swears.

Castiel’s whole body heats with the force of his blush. “Thank you. I asked Jo how to make it, since it seems like I’ve taken over your delivery duties.”

Dean grins. “You’re a lot more fun than Jo,” he says lightly, “so I’m not complainin’.”

Castiel didn’t think he could get any redder, but here he is.

After an awkward beat, Dean says, “I think I found my next movie.”

“Really?”

Dean shrugs, but his eyes glimmer with anticipation. “It’s a World War II biopic about an omega who sneaks into the army, disguises himself as an alpha, and rescues a unit trapped behind enemy lines.” He taps his fingers against the side of his half-empty cup. “A little on the nose, but the script is good.”

“It sounds very promising,” Castiel agrees.

“Their biggest problem was the budget - historical pics aren’t cheap. But they think if I sign on early, they can leverage my name with the studio.” He smiles shyly. “Get the movie done right.”

“That’s fantastic,” Castiel says, a delightful warmth filling his chest - still a pale reflection of Dean’s excitement.

“Thanks to you.”

Castiel’s eyes widen in surprise. “Me?”

Dean throws him a funny look. “Yeah, you. You told me to get my head outta my ass and movies I actually like doing-”

“Not in so many words-” Castiel interjects, alarmed.

“’Cause the whole point of doing these stupid macho alpha flicks was so I could get the clout and money to do the stuff I actually liked,” Dean continues. “And I kept thinking, can’t do it yet, not there yet, until some rando tells me, fuck yeah you can.”

“I definitely didn’t say that-”

“It was implied,” Dean says blithely, waving off his protests. “So I figured, if this dude who doesn’t know me from Adam-”

“I’ve seen several of your films.”

“- tells me to go for it - it being something I’d thought of doing for years - is there any real reason why I shouldn’t?”

Castiel just stares at him, stunned.

Dean beams. “I’ve got a meeting with the director next week.”

“That’s wonderful,” Castiel says sincerely.

“Anyway, yeah, it’s partially thanks to you,” Dean says, tipping his latte in Castiel’s direction. “I also want to talk about romantic B-plot since I think it’s stupid.” He shakes his head, scoffing. “True mates, bullshit.”

“You think true mates are bullshit?”

As far as Castiel saw online, Dean’s never spoken on the record about true mates or any mates at all. Entertainment news sources reported rumors about him and a one-named alpha singer, Amara, early in his career, which he denounced thoroughly. A few months later, someone published revealing photos of him and an older alpha actor, Fergus Crowley. When asked about it, Dean refused to give details.

Dean makes a face. After a pause, he says, “My parents said they were true mates, but it wasn’t… pretty. No Hollywood romance between them.”

“I’m sorry.”

“’S fine,” Dean says in a tone that clearly says it isn’t. “Whenever Dad took off for a few days, I’d get to watch as many movies as I wanted, and - well, the rest is history.”

“I don’t know anyone who’s found their true mate,” Castiel says. His parents had a cold, distant marriage. A few times over the years, he wasn’t sure his mother even liked his father’s scent. Anna happily mated another omega last year, and Gabriel avoids all romantic entanglements like the black plague.

Castiel’s dating history can best be described as dismal. During his last visit to his pediatrician, his doctor called him a “late bloomer” which Castiel eventually realized just meant socially awkward. In the decade since, Castiel’s slept with a grand total of three people. And, to his supreme regret, none of them managed to bring his rusty people skills up to par.

But, in college, Castiel found music and his calling. And all his faults didn’t matter nearly as much.

In the crowd of a concert, people are so far outside the ordinary conditions of life, and so conscious of the fact, that they free themselves from individual concerns and devote themselves wholly to the collective. All their fury, their joy, their hunger for what they can’t have, is sublimated into the music.

Castiel has never felt more connected to humanity than in the middle of a crowd.

Truthfully, none of his past relationships ever measured up. None of his past partners ever managed to get Castiel out of his own head - not like the music.

Castiel shakes his head ruefully. “I wouldn’t know what to do with a true mate even if I had one.”

“Have a lot of super sappy sex with the lights on?” Dean offers, laughing.

Castiel frowns. “I wasn’t aware that kind of intercourse was restricted to true mates. I’ve done that in the past since I've always shared an emotional connection with the people I've slept with.”

“Oh,” Dean says, reddening. “Were you mated? Jo didn’t say.”

Inordinately pleased that Dean had asked Jo about him, Castiel shakes his head. “No, I’ve never been mated.”

Dean drains his latte. Swallowing, he says, “Me neither.” He throws the cup in the open dumpster and turns back to Castiel. “I haven’t dated in a while, actually,” he says in a low voice. “Couldn’t risk being seen with an alpha and remind everyone of what I’m not.”

Castiel narrows his eyes. “Surely people can’t be that close-minded.”

“’Course they can. Most are,” Dean says, his voice full of assurance.

Castiel’s mouth twists. “That sounds like a negativity bias to me.”

“Huh?”

“Negative information sticks with us longer and more strongly than any positive counterpart,” Castiel says with a shrug. “It’s something I always keep in mind when reading my course reviews after the semester is over.”

“So," Dean says, eyes dancing, "you can take the nerd out of the classroom, but you can’t take the classroom out of the nerd, huh?”

Castiel smiles wryly. “Trust me, I’ve tried.”

Dean laughs. “Look,” he starts, his expression turning a fraction more serious. “I might be fucking up a good thing here, but do you want to go to a Lez Zeppelin show next week?”

Castiel’s mouth falls open as Dean reaches out and pulls out his phone to show him a ticket confirmation email.

“It’s no big if you don’t want to,” Dean says awkwardly into the silence.

“I - I do,” Castiel says, stumbling over the words. “You do?”

“Uh,” Dean throws him a bemused look, “Yeah? I bought the tickets, dude.”

“I’m just surprised,” Castiel says honestly.

Dean stares at him. “This is seriously comin’ out of nowhere for you?”

“A little,” Castiel says defensively.

“Seriously?”

Castiel shrugs helplessly. “You’re … you. You’re famous. Why would you ask me?”

“Because I like you?” Dean says, nonplussed. “You’re nice in a way a lot of the alphas I know aren’t, and,” he breaks off, reddening, “you said you didn’t mind that I didn’t fit in with other omegas, looks-wise-”

“I don’t,” Castiel interrupts. “I think you’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.”

Dean gapes. “Did you seriously -” he breaks off, apparently unable to voice the rest of his thought. His face turns an impressive shade of crimson.

Castiel shoves his hands in his pockets. “Should I not have said that?” he asks, brow furrowing. This can’t be the first time Dean has been complimented on his looks. As Castiel understands, good looks are one of the main precursors to acceptance in Hollywood.

“No - I mean, maybe - never mind,” Dean fumbles, more out of sorts than Castiel has ever seen him. “It’s that nobody just out and says that, even to me.”

“I just did.”

“Yeah, I got that,” Dean says, but he’s smiling. “You should look in the mirror sometime, though.” He winks, and Castiel’s brain nearly fritzes out. “So that’s a yes?”

Castiel nods, an all-encompassing warmth filling his chest and exploding out to the tips of his fingers and toes. “I’d love to.”

“It’s a date.”

Read Part II here!

#destiel fanfic #fanfic #destiel #profoundnet #rae writes fic #alpha castiel #omega dean winchester #alpha beta omega dynamics #celebrity dean winchester #barista castiel #professor castiel #the original apple pie latte

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hrtiu · 3 years

Note

Boba/Fennec prompt: Boba really likes Fennec's hair (or her fingers, or some other, very specific part of her body, whatever you like) and can't stop touching/admiring/playing with it, and she goes from confused that he cares so much about that part to irritated that he Won't Leave Her Alone to embarrassed that he's paying so much frakking attention to her ((to realizing she likes it)) to secretly being endeared by his cuteness. Bonus points if she blushes a lot because of all this and he likes that too ;)

Thanks for the prompt! I think I ended up with something probably a bit angstier than you were thinking, but hopefully you'll still enjoy it! AO3 link.

Every morning Fennec Shand sat down in front of her burnished chromium mirror and did her hair. She started with the main braid down the center of her head, then wove together three smaller braids to either side. Once she’d tied off each individual braid, she plaited all seven together into a dark, twisting tail that reached almost to her waist. Then she took a long string of orange-red fiber and threaded it between the braids at the top of her head, tying them down and securing her bangs as flat against her scalp as possible.

“Why do you always have your hair like that?” Boba asked one morning when she came down for breakfast in Old Jabba’s palace.

“I don’t know. Why is your hair always like that?” Fennec said, helping herself to a generous slice of bantha bacon.

Boba let out a gruff laugh and shook his head. “It must take forever.”

Fennec stabbed her bacon with unnecessary force. “I don’t do it when I’m on an assignment, and beyond that I don’t see that it’s any of your business.”

Boba didn’t say anything for a long moment, and Fennec wondered if maybe he was going to apologize. If he did she’d probably die of shock.

“Hmm,” he grunted, then returned his attention to his breakfast.

It was the reaction Fennec expected, but she found herself both relieved and annoyed. Shaking the contradictory emotions away, she finished her breakfast.

---

Living on Tatooine wasn’t all enforcing Boba’s will and collecting tribute. Boba was a benevolent warlord, and Fennec especially enjoyed being a part of his more generous impulses.

Most recently he’d bequeathed a chunk of his land to a tribe of Tuskens who’d cooperated well with him in the past. The Tuskens saw it as Boba returning the land to them, but regardless, they were going to be its permanent, uncontested tenants. Most of the Tusken Raiders Fennec had met seemed to enjoy their nomadic lifestyle, but this tribe was interested in putting down roots—so long as they could do it on their terms. As a show of good faith, Boba was donating three large moisture vaporators and a system for water storage to the village, and Fennec had been looking forward to the day of their installation for months.

Tribespeople clustered around the massive spires dug into the packed earth beneath the dunes, talking amongst themselves and asking questions to the mechanic who’d come up from Mos Eisley to install the thing. The poor translator Boba had dragged along was working doubletime to sort through the confusion.

Fennec stood next to Boba above the dug-out space, just a little outside of the cluster of activity. She wasn’t here to do much besides reinforce Boba’s involvement in the donation of the generators, but she was enjoying herself nonetheless. A small child whose face wrapping kept coming untucked approached the vaporator and turned the spigot, screeching in delight when clean water poured onto her outstretched hands. Fennec couldn’t help but smile.

A group of young Tusken women approached them, their hoods draped over their faces and ornamental collars jangling against their cloaks as they walked. They thanked Boba in sign language, and he signed back his appreciation with short, stilted hand motions. They giggled at his discomfort with their language, and Boba’s scarred face reddened.

“Great,” he grumbled to Fennec. “I knew that protocol droid wasn’t teaching me right.”

“Calm down,” Fennec said, resting a hand on Boba’s arm. “You’re doing fine. Just let them enjoy themselves.”

Boba frowned, but the gesture didn’t reach his eyes. He leaned into her touch, and Fennec felt light and warm.

The girls turned their attention to Fennec, and her contentment turned to unease. One of them pointed to Fennec’s braid and made a twisting motion with her hands, bringing her fingers together as her wrist turned. The other nodded in agreement, adding in a few giggles for good measure.

“Oh, um…” Fennec stuttered, unsure how to respond.

“They’re saying it’s pretty,” the translator from Mos Eisley said, hurrying up the steep hill towards them. “She says your hair is pretty.”

“Ah,” Fennec said. Heat rose in her cheeks, and her tongue felt thick in her mouth. Boba snorted and smirked at her, and she shot him a quick glare before smiling back at the girls. “Thank you, that’s very kind.”

The translator signed Fennec’s response back to them, and they nodded and made gestures of thanks to Boba and Fennec before retreating back to where their tribe clustered around the vaporators.

“So they’re allowed to talk about your hair, but I’m not?” Boba asked, folding his arms across his chest.

“Yes, that’s exactly right,” Fennec said, already heading for the steep slope that would take her down to the rest of the tribespeople. They’d be eating dinner soon, and it wouldn’t do for her and Boba to be late to the table.

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“It doesn’t need to make sense,” Fennec said. “It’s just what I want.”

Boba rolled his eyes but followed Fennec down the slope, his steps awkward and careful on the slippery sand.

“Always what you want,” she thought she heard him mutter under his breath, but that could have been the whisper of the winds against the sand.

---

“Shand! We’re going to be late!” Boba yelled at Fennec through the thick door of her room.

His booming voice startled her, and one of her fingers slipped before she was able to tie off the last of her individual braids. “Dammit,” she muttered. “I’m coming!”

“I’m not going to look weak in front of Kanjiklub because you couldn’t stop fiddling with your hair,” he said.

The corners of Fennec’s mouth turned downwards and she saw her own eyes flash in the mirror. “We’re not going to be late. Calm down.”

His boots thudded heavily against the floor as he paced back and forth in front of her door. Fennec’s frown morphed into a full-blown scowl and she made sure to take extra care to get her braid right, taking her time with each knot. Boba needed to learn patience, and he needed to learn that she wasn’t some massiff he could train to do his bidding.

She finished up the braid then moved on to weaving the orange thread around each cord, laser-focused on her task but unhurried in execution.

Boba’s fist pounded on the door once more. “If you don’t hurry it up I’m going to cut off that damned braid myself!”

Fennec froze. She pressed her lips together and stood from her chair, leaving her hair weaving half-finished. She stalked to her bed, pulling her boots and coat off as she did so, then fell into her thick, fluffy blankets.

“...Fen?” Boba asked through the door, though this time his voice was softer—almost chastened.

Fennec held her wrist comm up to her mouth and messaged Dilick Wa, the other bounty hunter Boba kept on retainer at the palace.

“Wa? You there?” she said.

“Yep. What’s up?”

“Meet Boba on the landing pad. You’ll be going with him to meet Kanjiklub tonight.”

“...But weren’t you going-?”

“Just do it.”

She shut off the coms.

---

Lights flickered by for every floor they sank underground, each beam illuminating the red-tan-and-white of Boba’s scarred features. Normally Fennec didn’t like being underground, but on Florrum she might be willing to make an exception. Relief from the unrelenting heat and sulfur-infused dust was worth the loss of adequate sniper perches, in her opinion.

“So,” Boba said. “Arawat Ragistar. Anything else you can you tell me about him?”

Fennec forced a shrug. “Like I said: he’s an assassin. He has plenty of other skills, too. He’s tricky and dangerous, but in general he’ll stick to his word if you pin him to specific commitments.”

Boba nodded slowly. “How is he as a business partner?”

“Wouldn’t know. I only knew him as an assassin.” A heavy pause filled the space between them, and several more floors passed in silence.

“He’s a real bastard,” Fennec said, and she wondered if it was some strange trick of the senses that made her voice sound several decades younger to her ears.

“I know you don’t like him, but we need good connections on Florrum.”

“I know.”

The lift slowly came to a stop, and Fennec tensed as the doors opened. A shiny protocol droid welcomed them into the bare, utilitarian bunker that served as Arawat’s headquarters, and they followed it through a series of round vault-style doors. The final door was bigger than the rest, and it opened on a broad audience chamber, at the end of which sat a sleight, waspish Sullustan. Her old mentor.

“The great Boba Fett!” Arawat said, throwing his arm wide, “Welcome! And Little Fennec, you’ve come back home!”

Fennec nodded her head in response, biting back a bitter response. That was what he was fishing for, after all.

“Arawat Ragistar, thank you for having me,” Boba said, moving to sit in the plush chairs across from Arwat’s restrained setup. “You’re not an easy man to find.”

“Of course not,” Arawat said. “What good assassin would be easy to find? Isn’t that right, Little Fennec?”

Fennec pursed her lips. “Right.”

“We’re interested in bringing some of our import routes through Florrum,” Boba said. “It could be profitable for the both of us.”

“Now Fennec Shand, on the other hand. That’s a name I’ve heard of,” Arawat said, as if he hadn’t heard Boba at all. “‘Best assassin in the galaxy,’ I’ve heard. Of course, if anything I’d taught her had sunken in, she’d know that the best assassin is the one you’ve never heard of.”

Boba’s jaw clicked—a tiny motion Fennec doubted most anyone else would notice. “I’m not sure how that’s relevant to our arrangement.”

Arawat leaned forward over his knees and threaded his fingers together, and Fennec’s own stone face stared back at her in the mirror reflection of his shiny black eyes.

“It’s vanity, you know? Pure vanity,” he said, his voice silky smooth. “Like that hair. Do you know how many times I told her to cut it? There is no tactical advantage to long hair—not a single one. The only reason to keep it is vanity, pure and simple. ”

Fennec stared back at him, refusing to look away. Boba had fallen silent at her side, but she hardly noticed him any more in her peripheral vision. She was back 35 years in the past, her reflexes sharp and her body lean, but her spirit broken.

“Couldn’t quite get all the Chandrila out of her after all-”

“We’re through here,” Boba cut Arawat off, standing to his feet.

Arawat finally turned his attention to Boba, his jowls flapping excitedly around his cheeks. “What? But we were-”

“We’ll bring our goods through some other way. Thank you.”

Boba turned to leave and Fennec followed after him, her jumbled thoughts struggling to right themselves as she kept up with his assertive pace. The protocol droid started leading them back, but Boba brushed past him, retracing their steps to the lift with ease. Arawat didn’t follow.

The lift opened for them and Fennec followed Boba in, holding her tongue until the doors sealed shut.

“Are you crazy? We need his cooperation,” Fennec hissed as the lift zoomed upwards. Her eyes darted to the corners of the lift, searching for the holo cameras she knew must be somewhere.

Boba bristled. “I’m Boba Fett. I don’t need anybody except-” He shut his mouth. “We don’t need anybody.”

The lights from the lift illuminated his face at regular intervals, but the open emotion he’d shown down below was gone. Back was his stoic warrior’s face, the one she’d grown to respect but couldn’t fully trust.

“Fine,” Fennec said after a weighty pause. “Mustafar should work, anyway.”

“Mustafar?” Boba asked incredulously.

“Just get a few heat-resistant vehicles and you’re golden. That hostile environment is its own security.”

Boba grunted in agreement, and the lift continued upward. They fell into a companionable silence, and though the tension in Fennec’s shoulders gradually fell, she still ran her fingers nervously up and down the end of her braid.

---

The last time Fennec had been to Naboo it had been for a hit. The beauty of the planet hadn’t been lost on her at the time, but the elegant promenades and magnificent waterfalls didn’t look quite the same through a scope. This time she and Boba were here for a business deal and she had a chance to truly appreciate Theed’s splendor.

She leaned against the stone balustrade bordering the balcony and closed her eyes, letting the faint mist from a nearby waterfall gather on her face. Heavy footsteps sounded behind her, but they were the comforting, familiar gait of her partner, and she paid them no heed.

“Hiram agreed to our terms,” Boba said from her side. “Production can start next month.”

“Hmmmm,” Fennec hummed. “Sounds good.” They’d thought negotiations would last longer. That gave them three whole days to relax before their shuttle was scheduled to depart.

The breathtaking vista before them occupied all of Fennec’s thoughts. In the distance threads of water laced their way down verdant green cliff sides, and elegant copper-colored buildings stood above the cliffs like sentinels on watch. The waterfall closest to their villa roared as thousands of gallons toppled over the edge every second, and Fennec could feel the power of it through her feet and into her bones. She closed her eyes in appreciation. Beauty and power—the ultimate combination.

Boba leaned on the balustrade next to her, bringing him into her orbit. “I ordered dinner,” he said.

Fennec hummed again. Dinner in their private villa overlooking the waterfalls sounded perfect.

Boba stepped to the side then his warm breadth was at Fennec’s back, enveloping her like a thick cloak. She tensed, her instincts screaming at her to bolt. But maybe this time, she didn’t want to run away.

With a sigh Boba rested his chin on Fennec’s shoulder and his hot breath tickled at the loose strands of hair that had escaped their bindings by her ear. She shivered.

Boba leaned further into her and rested his cheek against the side of her head. He took a long, slow breath in and turned his face more towards her, his nose catching slightly against her braids as he moved his head up and down in what could only be described as a nuzzle.

Fennec’s breath caught in her throat. “Boba…”

“Easy,” he murmured. “I’m just enjoying the view.”

Fennec couldn’t help a soft snort at that. “Nothing you haven’t seen before.”

“Maybe,” he said, his breath heavy and thick in her ear. “But I don’t usually have a chance to relax and enjoy it.”

His hands slid up to her arms and he pulled her gently backwards, stepping behind them until he reached a plush daybed set near the back of the balcony. He sat down and she went with him, allowing herself to be tugged into his lap.

She didn’t think. She just let her senses bask in his warmth, in his sturdy, fierce presence. She reclined against his front, her ear pressed up to his unarmored chest. His heartbeat thudded clear and strong against her cheek—a steady, constant presence she was only just realizing how much she cherished. He rested his chin on top of her head and held her loosely around the waist.

Water tumbled over the cliffs of Theed and time passed, but Fennec didn’t notice either. All she felt was an unfamiliar sense of peace and security. Maybe, after all these years, she wasn’t broken after all.

“...We could always extend our stay,” Boba said, his voice a gravelly rumble through his chest.

“Hmmm.” Fennec closed her eyes and let her fingers cling to the fabric of his tunic.

“Or visit other planets. Maybe even go to Chandrila.”

The distant blare of alarm bells sounded in Fennec’s mind, but she did her best to ignore them. It was nothing. She was fine. She was at peace, and she trusted Boba.

“I’ve never been there before,” Boba continued. “You could show me around.”

The alarm bells shrieked, and the peace shattered.

Fennec hauled herself out of Boba’s lap. She stepped back to the edge of the balcony and ordered herself not to look back. It was colder now, but the chill was familiar. “We should leave as we planned. I need to check in with our supplier in Mos Eisley.”

“Fen, come on-”

“I think I’ll call it a night.” There was a courtyard of space between her room and Fett’s, but maybe she’d stay someplace else for the night.

Boba got to his feet and followed her across the balcony, but he made no move to touch her. “You wear Chandrilan braids every day. You can’t tell me you hate the place-”

Fennec rounded on him. “I may be in your service, but that does not mean I have to tell you anything about my personal life.”

Boba grabbed her by the wrist, the snarl he usually reserved for his enemies rising to his lips. “Shand, can we leave the carbonite bitch act behind for once?”

Fennec wrenched her arm from his grasp and shoved him back. “Touch me again and I’ll kill you.”

She whirled around and fled the balcony, making first for her room before turning instead towards the villa’s entrance. How far away could she get for the night? It might be an interesting challenge to see.

---

She came back the next morning. She was a professional, and she trusted Boba to understand the line he’d crossed. And just as she’d expected, he didn’t mention anything about the previous night’s blowup. Two days later they returned to Tatooine, and life continued the same as ever.

Boba’s business ventures on Tatooine were actually fairly legitimate. He built up the local economy, gave loans to entrepreneurial spirits, increased imports and exports exponentially, cracked down vigorously on (unsanctioned) crime, and generally made the miserable ball of dirt and sand that was Tatooine a more tolerable place to exist. That being said, nobody could be successful in the Outer Rim while working completely above board.

Which was why it came as no surprise when the Hutts sent assassins after him for co-opting a chunk of their spice territory.

Fennec squeezed off another round from her perch on one of the palace’s domes and allowed herself a smirk of satisfaction as the target dropped.

“Last intruder down,” she said into her comm.

“Good job,” Boba said from his safe room below. “Let’s give it a half hour to see if anyone else crops up. Then regroup in my study.”

“Copy that.”

Fennec waited patiently in her perch, her sharp eyes staring through the scope for any sign of additional assailants. She was reasonably confident she’d dispatched them all, though, given the size of their transport and typical Pyke Syndicate strategies. Fennec snorted to herself. The Hutts must be really strapped for cash if they were resorting to hiring Pykes.

After the allotted time had passed with no sign of other hostiles, Fennec climbed down from her perch and made her way to Boba’s rooms. Boba was neither sentimental nor high-maintenance, but the comforts of the past few years had led to him accumulating a certain amount of personal belongings to display in his quarters. Mandalorian relics, his father’s old helmet, a Clone Wars-era DC-17—that sort of thing. Fennec walked past his mementos and met him at his armchair near the back of the study.

“All clear?” he asked, looking up from a datapad streaming updates from his security system.

“As far as I can tell. Hutt enforcement really isn’t what it used to be,” she said.

“Not the only thing around here that’s getting rusty, it seems,” a soft voice hissed behind her ear.

Fennec’s eyes widened and she twisted around, but before she could move a cold, slimy hand had her by the hair and a vibroblade pressed up against her gut.

“Tsk tsk tsk,” Arawat’s hateful voice whispered near her ear. “Little Fen still has so much to learn. What did I tell you about our work? The best assassins are unseen.”

Fennec’s heart seized in her chest and with each breath her stomach pressed against the vibroblade. For now it was cutting through her coat, but soon enough it would be her skin.

“You might want to rethink your position,” Boba said, slowly rising to his feet. “There are two of us and only one of you. One way or another, you’re not getting out of here alive.”

“Ah haha, the mighty Boba Fett. You know, if you were your father I would be afraid right now. Old Jango wouldn’t hesitate to let a subordinate die to get ahead in a fight. But you’re not like that, are you?” Arawat said. With each word his fleshy jowls slid along Fennec’s neck, making her skin crawl.

Boba bared his teeth and the divots and crevasses of his scars almost turned his expression inhuman. “Care to test that theory?”

“Yes, I think I do,” Arawat said. “Put your weapons down, or I’ll gut her like a fish.” The blade pressed further into her stomach, drawing the tiniest sliver of blood.

Boba met Fennec’s gaze, and an understanding passed between them. Something Fennec had always known somewhere in the back of her mind came to the forefront, and she set her jaw. She trusted Boba. She trusted him more than she’d ever trusted another living person. She trusted him more than she trusted herself.

She didn’t know what he was going to do, but something in his eyes told her to prepare. She slowed her breathing, diminishing the blade’s contact with her flesh, and moved her hand just the slightest distance closer to the vibroblade she always kept tucked into her belt.

Boba moved to disarm himself, one hand going slowly for his blaster while the other stayed up and opened for Arawat to see. Then the thrusters of his jetpack activated, and he barreled right into Arawat and Fennec.

For several chaotic, terrifying moments, Fennec’s world was a tangle of clattering metal, unidentified limbs, and confused violence. Somehow, Arawat managed to maintain his vice like grip on her braid, and while momentum threatened to pull them apart, Arawat held onto her hair with a vicious tenacity. When they landed in a heap on the other side of the room, he yanked her to him again. Boba made a lunge for Arawat’s blade, but he wasn’t going to be fast enough. Fennec needed to get away. As she was, she was a liability.

She pulled the vibroblade from her belt and cut behind her, severing the thick braid right at the base of her skull. She flung herself away from her old teacher, and by the time she looked back Boba had already shot the Sullustant in the chest.

Arawat Ragistar was dead, and she and Boba Fett were both alive. It was a win.

She lay panting on the floor, her heart racing and blood still oozing from her side. As the adrenaline faded, her awareness tunnelled on the length of coiled black hair still hanging from Arawat’s limp hand where he slumped against the wall.

Strong arms pulled her to her feet and inspected the cut to her side, but Fennec hardly noticed.

“Hey,” Boba’s gruff voice cut through the haze. “Go see Pershing and get this stitched up. Then get some rest.”

She nodded numbly, then went to do as ordered.

---

Pershing gave her a few stitches, then added a thick bacta patch for good measure. Fennec didn’t feel anything, and Pershing’s complaints about not being a medical doctor and his demotion to glorified nurse slid easily in and out of her ears. Eventually he was done and her feet found their way back up to her rooms. She shut herself inside and sat down at her desk, her head feeling strange and floaty without the familiar weight of her braid.

Fennec stared at her reflection in the mirror, her face unchanged but somehow unrecognizable in its new frame. A soft knock sounded at the door, and she didn’t bother to shout the intruder off.

Careful footsteps sounded around her room, and Boba’s mangled face appeared above her in the mirror, the softness of his expression completely incongruous with his scarred visage.

Slowly, gently, without a word, he reached for her hair. He ran his fingers through their short, chopped length, sifting the strands carefully from side to side.

“You’re beautiful,” he said.

Fennec stared into his eyes through the reflection of the mirror, her body frozen in ice. Leaving her plenty of time to protest, Boba’s calloused fingers gathered up several hanks of hair from the crown of her head and started braiding. She’d never let anyone see her process before, but that didn’t stop him.

She barely had enough hair to reach the nape of her neck, but still he braided a short rope down the center of her head, then three smaller ones on each side. Then he picked the orange thread up from her desk and wove it between each braid, the extra support of the thread maintaining the seven braids’ integrity despite their length.

The last person to braid her hair for her had been her mother. Fennec could still remember the feeling of her thin, deft fingers in her hair, could still hear the sound of her soft, gentle voice cooing at her while she worked. She couldn’t remember her mother’s face, couldn’t remember her name, could hardly recall even the vaguest impression of what Chandrila was like. This memory was all she had left.

Fennec’s shoulders shook, and with a start she lifted a hand to her cheek and realized she was crying. The braids now completed, Boba let his hands fall to her shoulders, where their generous warmth helped hold her together.

Boba turned her chair around to face him and knelt down in front of her, lifting her chin to meet his gaze. “It will grow back. But even before then, you’ll still be beautiful.”

She turned around in her chair and slid her arms around him, burying her face into his stomach. He sank down to the floor and pulled her down with him, holding her and murmuring unintelligible sweet nothings as he stroked her hair.

“I don’t want anyone to see me like this,” she said, her voice raspy with tears.

“I’ll never let anyone see,” Boba said. “I’ll close my own eyes if it will help.”

Fennec chuckled, her body shaking against Boba’s solid torso. “No, I think it’s alright for you. But only you.”

“Hmmm,” Boba hummed. “It’s a deal, then.”

Fennec rolled over onto her back, then tugged Boba on top of her. “It’s a deal.” She threaded her fingers together behind his neck and pulled him down to her.

#bobannec #bobannec plague #boba fett x fennec shand #the mandalorian #writing #star wars #fennec shand #boba fett #ask #prompt

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watchmegetobsessed · 3 years

Text

With you - Harry Styles

❄️ FANFICmas 2020 ❄️

Read more about FANFICmas here!

fanficmas week 2! i really hope you guys are enjoying the holiday content! updated the fanficmas post with the title of next week’s fic and im working hard on more content, hopefully i’ll have more time when i finish school next week. take care!

word count: ~2k

masterlist

Getting into a relationship so close to the holidays is a pain in the ass. There are just so much unexplored territory, it makes an already stressful time even harder. What do you buy them? Do you spend it together? Do you take them home to your family? Do they want you to meet their family? There really should be a manual to answer all these questions, because it really works up your anxiety.

When you made things official with Harry just a short month before Christmas, you didn’t think about all these things, but once you were able to see from the pink clouds around you, realization hit you hard. These were all crucial questions and you were afraid to ask them straight. What if you disagree on one? What if you want him to meet your family, but he feels rushed? The two of you only dated for a few weeks before he finally asked you to be his girlfriend. You could jump and scream from happiness, but then you realized what it means for the holidays and now you are stressing out.

Harry however knows you well enough to notice that something is off, so one evening, when you’re on the phone he softly asks.

“Love, everything alright?” you hear his soft murmur through the phone.

“Yeah, why are you asking?” you say, trying your best to sound convincing.

“Because the moment I brought Christmas up you started giving one word answers. You know you can tell me anything, right?”

Your heart aches, he is such a sweetheart. You can’t just put it all aside hoping for the best, you need to be mature and just communicate your fears. Hopefully, he won’t think you’re crazy for stressing on such things.

“I’m just… a little anxious about the holidays.”

“Okay, talk to me. What’s gotten you feeling that way?”

“I’m just not sure what we should do.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, we haven’t talked about what happens on Christmas. Do you want me to meet your family? Do you want to meet mine? Do we celebrate together or meet after the holidays?”

You hear a soft chuckle on the other end of the call and you huff to yourself. Good to know, he finds it entertaining.

“Love, don’t stress about it, alright? We can talk about it now. But there’s no wrong answer, okay?”

“Do you really mean that?”

“I do. I know it’s our first Christmas together, a kind of important step, so I just want to make sure you’re comfortable with whatever we come up with.”

“You are literally making it so hard for me to comprehend that you’re real when you are so caring and loving Harry,” you mumble in the phone, earning another chuckle from him. Moments like this, when he acts like a real prince charming just makes you unable to wrap your head around the fact that you are dating this man. He is your boyfriend and you are his girlfriend. Unbelievable!

The two of you talk it through and come up with a plan for the holidays. Dinner at your parents’ on the 25th, lunch with his family on the 26th and then ice-skating in the evening, just the two of you.

Now that you have cleared it all, you just worry about one thing: not to do anything during the holidays that would make him want to leave you right away.

Dinner at your parents’ goes by smoothly, it’s not a surprise Harry wraps both of them around his fingers, you were kind of expecting it beforehand. Besides, your mom was already so excited to meet your charming new boyfriend, he doesn’t even have to try that hard through the evening.

Now lunch with his family has been working up your anxiety, but when Anne greets you with a warm hug and some sweet words about how grateful she is to finally meet the girl her son has been gushing about, your nerves fade and you let yourself enjoy this time with them. They are all so welcoming and you really hit it off with Gemma, already making plans after the holidays, just the two of you.

“Already getting rid of me, babe?” Harry teases you softly and you just kiss him with an innocent look.

After family time at the Styles home, Harry drives you home to get changed and pick your skates up before dropping by his house to do the same. You arrive to the skating rink a little after five, the sun has already dipped down below the horizon, the Christmas lights all around the place are setting the mood for the evening.

“I’m warning you, I’m not that good of a skater,” you tell him with a nervous smile as you finish up with your skates.

“S’alright, I’ll look out for you,” he smirks, making your heart flutter in your chest. He holds out a hand for you and you gladly take it, balancing on the blades a little wobbly. It’s been quite a few years since the last time you skated and you surely became a little rusty. You can only hope you won’t embarrass yourself that badly, wouldn’t want such an awkward memory from your first Christmas spent together with Harry.

“Hold onto me all you want, Love,” he tells you when he is already on the ice, helping you step into the rink as well. Your ankles aren’t holding up too steadily, so you take up on his offer and cling onto him for dear life.

You manage to get on the ice without smashing your face against it, so you give yourself a point for that. Harry seems to be comfortable in his black skates, gliding on the ice easily, always looking out for you to help or catch you if you might fall.

It surely takes you time to get used to moving around on the ice, losing balance quite often, but Harry is always quick to catch you just in time, saving you from falling.

“You are getting better, babe,” he smiles at you proudly when you are only holding one of his hands, trying your best to move forward, people passing you in a faster pace, but you are just happy to take it in slower.

“Sorry to hold you back. You can go a few rounds without me if you want,” you tell him, knowing well he would easily be able to circle the rink smoothly like a pro.

“I’m perfectly fine, don’t worry about me, Love,” he smiles at you and he sounds genuine. Returning the smile you try to inch closer to steal a quick kiss, holding onto his hand you manage to reach him, but right before your lips could meet his, a guy speeds past you so suddenly, he scares you, making you jump and easily fall out of your balance you worked so hard to keep all along. Harry’s arm immediately flies around you, trying to keep you steady, but it’s all dead business.

You launch forward, not able to hold yourself up, collapsing against Harry, who desperately tries to keep the both of you standing, but he doesn’t succeed. The two of you fall to the hard ice and though you mostly land on Harry, it’s still painful and you can only imagine what it feels like for him.

“Oh shit!” you gasp when you finally realize what just happened and that you’re lying flat on Harry who is grunting underneath you. “Harry, I’m so sorry!” you whimper, already feeling the embarrassment crawling up on your cheeks, heating them up. Of course you have to be so clumsy to pull Harry down with you when you fall.

Eyes falling to Harry’s face you see that his expression is quite pain twisted and looking down at him you try to find where he hurt himself.

“Wha-what hurts?” you frantically ask as he opens his eyes, staring up at the sky, seemingly holding his breath.

“Don’t panic, Love, but I think my wrist is broken,” he huffs out and you gasp at his words. You carefully get off of him and your gaze finds the hand that’s probably injured, but you can’t see much, his coat and sweater still covering it.

You manage to hold your tears back as you and Harry somehow push yourselves up from the ice and make your way off the rink. He is holding himself up like a soldier, not even whimpering at the pain he is surely feeling, but you can tell it’s painful as hell. You help him change into his boots, then change yourself as well, pack everything up as you head out to the car. This time you’re clearly driving and sitting in the dark car you need to bite into your lower lip to stop yourself from crying, but you are not even the one who is injured.

You just can’t believe he broke an arm because of you. How pathetic are you really? This evening will surely haunt you for years.

You feel Harry’s gaze on you while you drive, and you’re pretty sure he can tell how shaken up you are, but he chooses not to comment on it and you’re more thank thankful for that choice.

You park down at the hospital and walking in you are faced with the holiday chaos of the ER, that basically looks like hell. The place is packed, nurses and doctors are rushing from one point to the other, patients are waiting everywhere, children are crying and it’s a whole mess.

You check Harry in at the nurse station and the nice lady asks the two of you to wait until his name is called. Harry spots two empty chairs in the corner so you make yourselves comfortable there for the wait ahead of you.

He can tell you are blaming yourself and shutting yourself down, but he surely doesn’t want you to think it’s any of your fault.

“Hey,” he softly breathes out catching your attention. “What’s going on in your pretty head?”

You let out a tired and frustrated sigh, rolling your lips into your mouth.

“Just that I’m such a loser, breaking my boyfriend’s hand on our first Christmas together.”

“You did not break my hand, okay? It was an accident, Love.”

“Yeah, but I fell on you and that’s why it happened. I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted nothing to with me after this,” you mumble under your breath, but Harry is shocked to hear your words. Moving up his healthy hand to cup your cheek he turns your face to force you to look into his eyes.

“Okay, this is the silliest thing I’ve ever heard from you. Why would I want to break up with you for this?”

“Because… I’m a clumsy loser?” you whisper, feeling the tears stinging in your eyes again. “I’m so not the right match for you, anyone can see that,” you huff sadly.

“Stop this, I hate seeing you doubt yourself. Because it makes me feel like I don’t worship you enough, that I don’t show you enough how crazy I am for you.”

“You are?” you mumble with wide eyes.

“Oh, absolutely,” he chuckles, running his thumb across the soft skin under your eye. “And this is going to be the funniest and best story to tell later. I can’t wait to tease you every year about it,” he smirks smugly at you, and though you want to roll your eyes at him, your heart is threatening to jump out of your chest. He is planning to spend more Christmases with you!

“I’m sorry this is how our first Christmas turned out to be. In a crowded hospital waiting room,” you huff your apology and he just smiles down at you sweetly, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

“It doesn’t matter where we are. I just want to be with you.”

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfic #harry styles au #harry styles imagine #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #fanficmas #fanficmas2020 #fanficmas 2020 #watchmegetobsessed fanficmas #watchmegetobsessed fanficmas 2020

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lnc2 · 3 years

Text

this time next year

Summary: Marinette is worried about the future. Adrien wants to know where he fits into it.

A/N: This piece was written for the @mlwriterzine and I’m so excited to finally share this with you! I hope you enjoy it and also go check out the zine because there are so many amazing stories/art pieces collected there.

AO3

The party was well underway by the time Adrien knocked on Nino’s door. Alya was the one who answered, half of her face obscured by gold tin foil pinned to a green beret.

“Speak of the devil,” she grinned, leaning heavily on the door frame.

Adrien bussed her cheek and passed over the bottle of rosé he’d swiped from his father’s wine cellar. “Sorry, Alya. The show ran late. You know how those things go.”

She waved him in, whistling at the bottle in her hands, and shook her head. “Thankfully I don’t. Everyone’s in the living room.”

Adrien followed her into the kitchen instead, eyes straying over the tipsy, crowded apartment. Back against the wall, where Nino’s faded and cracked leather couch usually sat, was a long table covered in gold plastic sheeting. Green and gold hats of various styles were littered across, as well as glitter, rhinestones, netting, feathers, and any other number of crafting materials.

He smiled. “I see you’ve all started without me.”

“Naturally,” Alya said, putting his gift in the fridge to chill. “You’re several drinks behind us now, Agreste. Pick your poison.” She gestured to the half-empty bottles of liquor scattered across the bar.

“No tequila?”

She snorted. “You’ll have to track down Marinette for that one. She ran off with the bottle half an hour ago.”

Something warm filled his chest. “A cup of ice and a lime then.”

“Good luck with that,” Alya said, bumping his shoulder as she passed him the glass. Adrien laughed as he followed her into the living room, his smile widening as he spotted Kagami fussing with the green flowers on her gold newspaper hat.

“I’m not sure how I feel about this.”

Alya batted her hand away. “It’s tradition!”

She pressed her lips together. “It’s archaic.”

“Boo,” a familiar voice called from behind him. Adrien’s heart stuttered as a familiar pair of arms slipped around his waist. “It’s just for fun. No one takes it seriously.”

Adrien thought back to earlier in the evening and Gabriel’s annual Saint Catherine’s Day gala and couldn’t agree. There was a stark difference between the frivolousness and whimsy of Nino’s house party and the staid sobriety of his father’s fashion show.

As if reading his thoughts, Marinette’s eyes sparkled up at him beneath gold netting. “At least no one here.”

“Speak for yourself,” Alya said. She adjusted her hat and threw an accusatory look towards Nino. “Tick tock, babe.”

“You won’t let me propose until you’re out of grad school,” he whined.

Adrien hid his grin as the familiar argument ensued. Instead, he tipped his cup of ice towards the half-empty bottle in Marinette’s hand.

“You’re one of the few people I’d share with,” she said, filling his glass. Adrien leaned down to whisper his gratitude only to be pushed from the other side, causing them to knock heads.

Marinette laughed waving off his apologies with a squeeze to his waist even as their assaulter continued to elbow into the group.

“I’m never getting married,” Alix announced from her position on the back of one of Alya’s coworkers. There was a crown on her head but no decorations. She gestured wildly with her free hand. “Just call me Queen Catherinette.”

“All hail,” Alya said, clinking her wine glass against a reluctant Kagami’s. Her glassy eyes strayed towards Marinette. “What about you, girl? It’s been a while since I’ve heard about Emma, Louis, and Hugo.”

Adrien tried not to sound too interested when he asked, “Who?”

Marinette laughed, her flushed cheeks flushing further. “I’m afraid that future is on hold, Al. I need to find a boyfriend first.”

She removed her arm from around his waist then and Adrien had to restrain himself from pulling her back to his side. Instead, he took a healthy swallow of tequila and let the conversation drift into less turbulent waters.

Now was hardly the time to volunteer his name to the top of her list.

Adrien could think of two, maybe three very important conversations they needed to have before he could even approach that topic. The most pressing of which weighed heavy on his right hand and sparkled like precious gems on his lady’s ears.

He watched over the rim of his glass as Marinette giggled with the other women in their silly hats. One of them—Alix’s roommate, he thought—burst out with a jubilant, “For pity’s sake, give us a husband!” only for the others to raise their glasses with various tipsy rounds of, “Hear, hear!”

He smiled as Marinette wrestled Kagami’s fidgeting hands away from her hat. It had only been a few weeks since their reveal but Adrien was struggling to see how he could have missed the woman he’d loved for a decade in his dear and wonderful friend.

“Some party, huh?”

Adrien coughed as Nino slapped him on the back just as he was swallowing. Nino laughed at his accusing glare.

“Sorry man,” he said, grinning. “I thought you heard me coming but I guess you were distracted.”

Adrien ignored the teasing lilt in his friend’s voice.“It’s a good crowd,” he said instead. “I’m sorry I was so late.”

“No worries. Although if everything goes well hopefully this will be the last Saint Catherine’s party we’ll be hosting.”

Adrien laughed. “You think you’ll have worn Alya down by then?”

Nino shrugged. “Fingers crossed. I’ve had this ring burning a hole in my pocket for two months now.”

“Maybe you should be the one wearing the hat.” He grinned, only to receive a rough shove to his shoulder.

“You’re one to talk.”

Adrien pretended not to understand.

“Seriously, dude?” Nino shook his head. “You’re not that slick. If you like her you should just ask her out. I know for a fact she used to have a thing for you.”

And even though Adrien already knew that, even though Marinette told him so several years earlier when her crush was a thing of the past as she’d laughingly put it, hearing his heart’s desire put into words so matter-of-factly did things to him.

Things like make him want to punch a hole in the nearest wall or tear out his hair in frustration.

Because really, how was it fair that the one woman he’d spent years chasing had actually spent several years of her own chasing him right back?

It wasn’t.

Not when Adrien still found himself in the chase and she had apparently just … stopped.

“That was a long time ago, Nino.”

“I don’t know if I’d say that.”

“... Why?” Adrien stared, stomach clenching. “Did she say something? Did Alya say something?”

His heart raced like hummingbirds wings in his throat as he tried to catch his friend’s gaze.

Adrien grabbed his shoulder and shook. “Nino.”

“I can neither confirm nor deny anything.” He laughed, before hiding his smile behind his glass as they caught Alya’s attention across the room. Adrien met her suspicious frown with a wave even as his other hand tightened on Nino’s shoulder.

“But …?”

“But … I wouldn’t count myself out just yet.”

Adrien’s hand fell to his side as all of his breath rushed out of him. “Oh.”

“Although, that may change if you don’t do something about it. Sooner rather than later if Kim’s roommate is anything to go by.”

Nino nodded towards the corner of the room where Marinette was chatting with a tall brunette. He was leaning towards her, his fingers playing at the edge of the netting on her hat as he whispered something in her ear that made her laugh. Adrien was already halfway across the room when Nino shouted, “Good luck!”

He wasn’t exactly sure what he was going to do to break up their little tete-a-tete but he needn’t have worried. As soon as he was in her line of sight Marinette’s smile lit up like the Eiffel tower and there was little left for him to do other than introduce himself before the interloper tried his luck elsewhere.

“Come outside with me,” she said, tugging his arm. “I haven’t seen you all week.”

“Your fault,” Adrien said, happy to follow her anywhere. “You canceled patrol.”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “You know I had to finish up those pieces for your father’s show.”

“At least you weren’t forced to go.”

She laughed and leaned back against the balcony railing. It was cooler than usual tonight as fall slowly gave way to winter and they had the little patio all to themselves. “Perks of being a lowly intern.”

“Please,” he said, bumping her shoulder. “You’ll be a junior designer by next year.”

She hummed, taking a swig of tequila from the bottle only to cough as it hit the back of her throat.

“You can mix that with something you know?”

His lady winced and took another sip, smaller this time. “Who has time for that?”

“You if you’d just slow down.”

It was only half a joke. Lately, even before their Big Reveal, Adrien noticed something changing in Marinette. She was a little less scattered, a little more single-minded. There was almost a frenzied focus about her, like some great fear was nipping at her heels, spurring her forward.

It wasn’t until her timer ran out during an akuma attack that he began to understand why.

“It was ten years this September,” she murmured, turning out to face the cobbled streets below.

Adrien hesitated before wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her into his side.

“We’ll get him, bug. I promise.”

“But when, Chat?” She started to lean her head against his shoulder only for her hat to get in the way. Frustrated, she ripped the little masterpiece off her head and crushed it in her hands.

“Stupid holidays aside, I do want a life, Adrien.” She ripped lightly at the netting. “You said I’ll make junior designer by next year? I don’t see how that’s possible when I’m running out of work every other day because someone couldn’t control their emotions.”

Her voice caught on the last word and he was horrified to realize she was crying. “I want to run my own business someday. I want –– I want to fall in love and get married and have babies.” She looked up, teary gaze meeting his. “How can I do anything when I always have one foot out the window waiting for the next catastrophe? Who could put up with that?”

“You’re not someone a person has to put up with, my lady.”

“Yeah.” She sighed. “Right. Tell that to my exes.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, because really that’s all he could do.

“Don’t be.” She sniffed, giving him a sad, sad smile. “You can’t do anything about it any more than I can.”

That wasn’t entirely true though.

Adrien turned his attention towards the scrunched up hat in her hands. Marinette followed his gaze and gave a watery laugh.

“I want it all, Adrien,” she whispered.

“I know,” he whispered.

“Do you?” she asked, eyes wide and blue and wet and angry. “Do you really?”

Adrien pulled her to him then, giving her the hug her fears deserved. Marinette clutched at his back, her arms sliding beneath his coat to wrap around his waist, giving as good as she got.

“I don’t want to wait anymore.”

Tears stung his eyes and words, the right words, stuck in the back of his throat as she gave voice to desires he’d never been brave enough to even dream. Not when Ladybug said no and not when Marinette said not anymore and not when they merged and became everything he’d ever wanted but feared he’d never have.

She wanted it all.

Adrien closed his eyes and breathed in his lady’s perfume. Freesia and jasmine and something he’d never been able to name. Marinette’s arms loosened around his waist when it seemed like he would pull away, but Adrien only held her tighter.

“I––” He stopped. “You said you don’t want to slow down?”

Marinette nodded.

“Well … how—how would you feel about a chaser?”

She pulled away so she could see his face. “A chaser?” she repeated, frowning.

Adrien bit his lip, feeling heat rushing up his neck and ears. “Ah, yeah,” he said, doing his best to hold her gaze. “Like—like a partner. To your tequila, I mean.”

Adrien watched as confusion gave way to understanding in the form of a perfect little open-mouthed oh. His heart was pounding hard enough he was starting to suspect she could hear it when her eyes glistened up at him beneath the dim porch lights.

God help him but he couldn’t trust himself. He couldn’t trust the gentleness in her gaze or the way her body went soft against his or the purse of her lips as she watched him with that pleased little half-smile as realization gave way to something and that something could only be called wonderful as she ducked her head beneath his chin, pressed her lips against the open collar skin of his neck and finally, finally whispered in that small, hopeful impatient way of hers,

“Are you volunteering?”

And even though he knew she knew and even though the question really didn’t require an answer, Adrien tightened his hold on her until they were swaying together chest to chest and repeated the only thing he’d ever wanted to give her.

Yes.

#miraculous ladybug #lnc2 writes #post reveal pre relationship #adrinette #ml writer zine #adrienette

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manonamora-if · 2 years

Text

Happy October!

This was planned for yesterday, but comp opening and I had bugs to fix.

I managed to "finish" the game and submitted it just on time!

The current build (playable on the IF Comp website starting yesterday lol!) is about 40-50k words long, including all variation (excluding: "codex", "player page", the arcade mode" and some text widgets). While the cap to reach an end is 14 in-game days, the game can be completed around day 5-6 if you only serve perfect drinks. Also, you can just skip that and play the Arcade for lulz.

This has been super nerve-wracking, submitting something to the big league of comps for IF, and it is about to be even more nerve-wracking having people not only play but judging it. It's exciting, but I am a bit anxious about it. And now judging has started...

BUT: my goal was to submit a working project with more than just making random drinks (so a minimum of a story) and place in the top half of the ranking. I've achieved the first, hopefully, the second will be true too :D

Still, I have learned A LOT working on this project: making special widgets, optimizing my code, editing some JavaScript, including more accessibility (key biding, animation-blocker), creating a more interactive game for the player than just choice lists, mastering flex boxes, using the memorize() function (which I had to remove at the end cause it was creating bugs...), using more custom animations in CSS, etc...

I am quite proud of having done all of that in like 3 months or so. Probably not the best timeframe to upload a comp game but eh, I did it anyways :P

I have a bunch of ideas on what to add, but I'll think about that in November. Expect a "post-mortem"/roadmap coming before the Comp Result.

In the meantime, play TTTT on the IF Comp website, as well as the other amazing entries there! Give all participants some love <3 We all worked really hard for it.

Since the last update (only UI x, x) back last February, I've received a handful of reports of bugs in some paths and other issues (typos, colour contrast, etc..). I started looking into it, hoping this would just that, and... there will be quite a bit more to fix on top of those. (It's real rough... I feel very ashamed)

I have learned A LOT about coding since I first made this project public last year. Not only that, but also about formatting text on the screen.

I know full well I should keep the project shelved and leave it be. I've worked enough on it. It showed what I could do at that point in time and is a great point of reference to see how far I've gone.

And yet, looking into the code just made me wince a bit... Especially when I know I could improve it and actually try to make it more accessible in general.

So yeah... Update incoming.

Lol, I already added 1k of words for the English version bc proofreading/editing.

MelS had been writing a few hundred words here and there, pretty much when he gets a chance to write (he's been super busy). He promised me to try to finish the missing Scene of Chapter 2 so I can code them in for the end of the month release. I have a backup planned if this doesn't work out.

Currently not much on that front. But further updates will be planned throughout the month!

OTHER PROJECTS/NOTES:

I will be uploading 3 more rounds of Exquisite Cadaver sometime this month and add another theme! You will see another theme form passing by to choose the next one :)

I am also bringing Crimson Rose & White Lily out of official Hiatus. The writing of the next scene has technically started, but it won't be full steam ahead for another week or two.

I am taking SugarCube coding questions again! If you need an explanation about the use of a certain macro, or how to do a certain thing in CSS, etc...

Will I manage doing everything this month? Probably not :P

#progress #update #tttt #mtp #ttateh #ec #crwl #the thick table tavern #meeting the parents #the trials and tribulations of edward harcourt #exquisite cadaver #crimson rose and white lily

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ceilingfan5 · 4 years

Note

tattoo AU and bakery AU for taakitz :>

“I didn’t know the place came with a handsome neighbor,” Taako crows, peeking out the window of his new bakery-cafe at the tattoo shop next door. The Raven’s Nest is small and staffed by only a few people, one of whom is the hottest motherfucker Taako has ever laid eyes on. “Hot boy, fresh out the oven. Steaming.”

“Maybe you could bring him something. A cupcake or a macaron, maybe?” Ren, his business partner, leans casually against the counter she’s just finished wiping down for the day.

“You’re a genius. Box me up something that says ‘date me, like, ASAP’.”

“What color do you want the frosting to be?”

“Not literally, you fucking fiend! I don’t want to creep the guy!”

“He says, staring at tall, dark, and handsome through the window, again.”

“I take back the genius title and I am putting it in my pocket and sending it back to the factory.”

Ren laughs. She puts a few tasty little petit fours in a larger box and ties it with a ribbon.

“You want to write your number on top, or are we taking it slow?”

“You’re not involved! There is no we here! But, no, no, if he wants me, which, obvs he will. It’s a known fact of the universe that I am delectably wantable. But if he wants me he can walk fifteen steps to the left of his job, and there I’ll be. Available, but not too available. It’s the perfect crime.”

Ren just shakes her head, and she goes about setting things up for opening in the morning.

It’s funny how nervous Taako is. He knows his shit is good, and his face is handsome, and he’s a delicious fucking catch for anybody, even such a hotboy as this one, but his heart is pounding like he’s been crab-walking a marathon in a bikini all day, and he doesn’t want to look sweaty for his first impression. He steadies his breath at the door, and then he walks in under the cheery jingle, smiling like he knows a sexy little secret. That’ll get him good. Got to.

The hot tattoo artist looks up from the till and nearly spits his coffee.

“Hey sailor,” Taako says, layering warmth in his voice like a fine little lasagna. “My bakery just opened up next door, and I thought I’d come round and meet the neighbors, share a few little treats.” He winks. The guy swallows his coffee hard and puts down the cup like it’ll kill him if he even thinks about getting another sip. His eyes are still a little too wide, which Taako has no objection to--they’re the most gorgeous deep brown he’s ever dreamed of sinking into. And those cheekbones, and that hair, done up in perfect braids and tied into a loose bun. God, what a hottie. “I’m Taako, by the way. You know, like on the sign.”

“Kravitz,” Kravitz says. His voice is hoarse, presumably from the coffee, but hopefully from just how handsome Taako is, and his subsequent realization of his goal in life and/or purpose in the universe. “Charmed.”

Taako sets the cake box down on the counter and leans against it, taking a calm glance around to assure himself that he’s not in the way of any customers.

“So tell me, stud, what’s the skinny on this place?”

They chat long enough that Ren comes and gets Taako so that they can close up the shop, and the next day Taako peeks through the windows, trying to tell if the cake box is gone, but that pretty little pink container of goodness is still sitting in the same place. Taako frowns.

“He didn’t eat my shit.”

“Maybe he just didn’t throw away the box?”

“He should have taken it home and hidden it from his coworkers so he could have it all to himself! What gives!!”

Taako takes another box of goodies over that night. And the night after that. He sees Kravitz’s coworkers eating the treats, but never Kravitz.

This becomes his goddamn white whale.

“So what kind of treats do you like, hm?”

“Oh, you know,” Kravitz says, rubbing at his neck. “Yours are so good. I can’t even choose.”

Taako narrows his eyes.

“Pick three and I’ll bring you some more.”

“Oh, you really don’t have to, Taako! I really appreciate it, but surely your customers want to pay for those things you keep giving us for free!”

“End of the day treats that don’t sell are totally fine to give away.” Taako folds his arms. “You’re doing me a favor.”

Kravitz looks unreasonably sweaty.

“Wouldn’t you know it, I have to go puncture a man, sorry?”

Taako tries again the next day, and the next. Ren tells him to cool it, but he can’t let it go. He makes Kravitz a little cake, the most perfect thing he’s baked in years, and he brings it over during the day, instead of at the end. Kravitz looks up from the till and swears under his breath.

“Taako,” he says, with a fruit salad of mixed emotions sliding down his face. Taako hopes he was the one who threw the bowl. “Good to see you.”

“Why don’t you eat my fucking treats?” Taako says, completely out of energy for subtleties. Kravitz winces.

“It’s, Taako, your treats look wonderful. Amazing. I wish I could eat them, honest! I’m just-- I’m allergic to eggs.”

Taako makes a dialup noise.

“You’re-”

“You were so excited about bringing them over, I didn’t want to tell you and ruin things. But- But Sloane and Barry have loved everything you’ve made!”

“You dim fucking, dull ass walnut!” Taako is so frustrated he actually stamps his foot on the tile, like a child. “I could have been perfecting my vegan treats for a month now!”

“You can make vegan cake?”

“Oh my god.” Taako rubs his face. “Oh my god. I have so much research to do. I’m going to make you something you can eat. You poor, deprived sonuvabitch.”

“Thank you?”

“And then when you eat it and don’t get sick, you owe me a kiss.”

“I do? I mean, not that I’m opposed- I- Realy, do there need to be rules, about, us, you know, hypothetically kissing?”

“Absolutely. But don’t you fret, my handsome little friend. You’re going to usher in a whole new era of Taako’s patisserie with your bare hands.”

“I’m still back on the kissing part, actually?”

“There’ll be time for that later. I have to go bake all night. See you later!”

“Can’t we kiss now? Taako? Taako, come back, what do I do with this cake? Taako?”

But Taako is too busy huffing the delirious thrill of fresh new beginnings. Romance, take two. Let’s go.

#taakitz #taz #tazb #taz balance #the adventure zone #the adventure zone balance #fan5fics #long post #sorry this is long #it's hard to get a sense of time in a mini fic #should i post this on ao3? it's long #i could finish it #anyway #sweet boys...

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fangirlovestuff · 4 years

Text

Butterfly Effect - Steve Rogers x reader

a/n - Hey lovely people! this is for @holylulusworld‘s 10,000 followers celebration, congrats!! (even though you have a lot more now lol). the divider is by the amazing @firefly-graphics. italics are for thoughts / flashbacks, and the first parts are all in chronological order. Enjoy!<3

Summary: The words on Steve’s arm point to the circumstances in which he will meet his soulmate, and they’re very specific, or so he thinks.

Prompt: 11 - soulmate AU

Word Count: ~2,070

Warnings: reader gets a tatoo but basically this is just a huge fluff fest:)

"That's a cute owl you're drawing there."

These are the words that were imprinted on Steve's arm since the moment he was born. When Steve could finally read, he asked his mother why are the words there.

"These words are very important," Sarah explained. "They are the first words your soulmate will ever say to you."

"What's a soulmate?" asked a confused Steve.

"A soulmate," his mother answered, "is someone you're gonna love very much. They're the person you'd probably choose to spend the rest of your life with. Their soul is connected to yours in inexplicable ways, almost as if they were one and the same. This," she pointed at the words, "is the sign for you to realize when you'll meet them. Somewhere out there, there's someone with the first words you're gonna say to them."

"So I'll be drawing an owl when I meet my soulfriend?" Steve asked.

"It's soulmate, dear. And I guess you probably will."

"And this… soulmate, will they buy me ice cream?" Steve asked hopefully, not quite getting the point.

Sarah giggled at her son. "Yes, I think they will if you'd want that. But also, they would love you so much, and you'll have the most fun in the world with them."

"Was da your soulmate?" Steve asked.

"He is," his mother answered, the smile on her face tinged with a little sadness that Steve hadn't picked up on.

Okay, so two round eyes, and then the body, and I should add some feathers and –

"Mr. Rogers!" the math teacher said sternly. "I haven’t assigned any equations yet, so I would appreciate it if you'd keep your attention on me instead of your notebook, for now."

"Yes, Ms. Williams," Steve replied sheepishly.

"You know you've already met everyone in this class right? No one here is your soulmate," Bucky whispered once their teacher turned back to the board.

"But I still want to get better at it," Steve shrugged defensively. "She's gonna say it's cute, Buck. For that to happen it needs to actually be cute."

"I don't get your whole fuss around soulmates Steve, but whatever. Suit yourself," Bucky rolled his eyes.

"You don't believe in soulmates?" Steve asked.

"Well, I wouldn't strictly say that, it's just… my words are 'watch it, weirdo.' Call me crazy, but I'm not that stoked to find that person," Bucky chuckled.

"Mr. Barnes! Something to share with the rest of us?" Ms. Williams said.

"No Ms. Williams, I'm sorry," Bucky said timidly and Steve snickered.

Steve could draw owls in his sleep if he needed to. Right now, his pencil was sketching over the page, lightly shading the wings of the owl and the –

"Rogers! You're on in five!" the stage manager called out to him.

Steve sighed and snapped his sketchbook shut. He kept hoping that maybe it was one of the girls on tour with him, but so far it wasn't going so well. The government-mandated entertainment had quite enough free time so Steve could draw as many owls as he wanted to in between shows.

He put the notebook aside and slipped on the cowl they had him wear. The Captain was needed on stage.

"So people take art classes… for fun?" Steve asked, puzzled.

"Yeah," Natasha answered. "Lately you're always drawing away in your little notebook, so if you want to, I could help you sign up for a class. Maybe they can teach an old dog some new tricks," she smirked.

"Ha ha," Steve answered dryly. Yet he couldn't help considering the idea.

The thing was, Steve wasn't sure if his soulmate was still out there to be found. You'd think he would feel a difference, some indication if his soulmate was dead, but when he went out of the ice, Steve felt nothing different. There was still a part of him that was hoping that maybe, just maybe, fate planned this. That his soulmate was still out there.

"That's a great color scheme, Steve," the instructor said, and Steve nearly jumped out of his skin.

"Thanks," he smiled, albeit a tad shakily.

This was the fifth class Steve took this month, and yet, no luck. He wasn't even drawing an owl, and yet the start of that sentence made him jump as if he didn't have super… well, everything.

But that doesn't mean he was giving up. His tattoo was still in place, even after all of these years, it hadn't faded. So he had to believe he could still find his soulmate.

These times were a lot more different than his. People here weren't always inclined to live by that philosophy of "soulmates". Some people chose to simply disregard that and find someone they loved regardless. Steve admired that, but he couldn't say he understood. If you're offered your perfect partner, why walk out of that?

"It's called instant gratification," Nat chuckled when he raised that question to her. "People like to have what they want as soon as possible. Besides, some people don't believe it's real, or don't believe it'll work for them. So, they take matters into their own hands."

Steve was more patient than the average person. He waited decades in ice, what's a few more years to find his soulmate?

Bucky had found his soulmate. Steve couldn't believe it.

Sure, he was happy for Bucky. When he came back today from the store with nothing but a small slip of paper, Steve had half a mind to smack him upright the head for not getting anything. Probably forgot his wallet.

But when Bucky showed him the paper he read the words scribbled onto it – "call me, weirdo, xx" and a phone number, Steve pulled Bucky into a tight hug, patting him on the back.

"Congrats, pal," he smiled.

Bucky beamed. Yes, Bucky Barnes, the terrifying Winter Soldier was beaming and his eyes were shining like a high-schooler in love. And Steve wished that could've been him.

He really was happy for Bucky. That's the thing – this was a good thing. Besides from his best friend finding the love of his life, it also meant that Steve's soulmate is almost definitely out there. But he couldn't help feeling a spark of resentment deep inside of him. It made him feel guilty, but he couldn't help the bitter thought that Bucky was never too keen on finding his soulmate while Steve did everything in his power to find them. And yet, Bucky found his while Steve's still in the dark.

So, to get out of his own head a little, Steve decided to go paint in the park.

To be honest, it was a wonder that Steve hadn't gotten awfully tired of drawing by now. But he still loved it, loved the quiet it cultivated in his mind.

Steve set up a canvas and looked around. People weren't noticing him, busy in their own endeavors. He almost started drawing an owl out of instinct, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Steve wanted to forget about the whole soulmate business for a while and just draw.

He saw a butterfly fly over and land on a nearby bush. Steve focused on the butterfly, trying to remember as much as he can. The rest he can improvise. The butterfly fluttered its wings for a few seconds before flying away.

Steve started drawing the butterfly. Once he had the pencil sketch, he started filling it in with the paints he had brought. He started with the little circles on its wings, filling them in so the shade will be just right, and he was about to move on to the rest on the wings when –

"That's a cute owl you're drawing there."

"It's a butterfly," Steve turned around, puzzled, before realizing what you had just said to him.

Your mouth opened in a gentle gasp. Your hair and clothes were a little messy from your long day at work. And at that moment, when you were caught completely off guard, Steve first met you. You were the most beautiful thing he has ever laid eyes on, and he was an artist. He stared at you in utter shock while you returned him a similar look.

"Are you sure you wanna do this?" your friend asked, sitting next to you with a worried look.

"I'm tired of looking for my soulmate. Do you know how hard it is to make conversation about butterflies?" you looked back at her. "I want to do this," you told her.

The tattoo artist came closer. "Okay ma'am, you wanted a simple butterfly, right?"

"Yes," you answered decisively. "On my left wrist." Your right hand had your words on it. "It's a butterfly." Maybe if you had a tattoo your soulmate would see it, would find you.

You closed your eyes and braced for what came next.

You weren't sure about this blind date thing, but why not. You trusted your friend that she set you up with a nice guy, at least.

You set up to meet in a park, and from there walk to a nearby restaurant. Right when the guy showed up, there was a butterfly next to you.

"What’s that?" you asked quickly, pointing towards it.

Your date turned his head to look, but by the time he did the butterfly was already flying away. "I don't know, it was probably a bug or something."

You stifled your groan of disappointment. At least you'd get a dinner out of this.

You and Steve were staring at each other in amazement. Finally, you were the one to speak up. "You're Steve Rogers," you said, frowning in disbelief.

"And you're my… soulmate," he returned the same disbelieving look.

You introduced yourself quickly, smiling at him timidly when you finished.

"So, you wanna get ice cream or something?" Steve asked, unsure of what exactly to do. But apparently he said exactly the right thing, because your face lit up.

"Right now though? You're in the middle of your painting and I wouldn't wanna –"

"It doesn't matter," Steve said quickly and stashed the canvas and paints underneath a bench nearby. "No one passes here anyways," he shrugged. "Until today," he smiled and you giggled.

You made your way to an ice cream shop across the street from the park, walking side by side.

"So, what is the great Captain America doing drawing owl-looking butterflies in a local park?" you asked, smiling.

"I was just looking to clear my head a little," Steve said dismissively. "To be honest, the fact that you didn't find me drawing an actual owl is very ironic, looking back," Steve chuckled. "I spent pretty much my entire life drawing owls, attending painting classes, anything I could to find you," his gaze met yours and he smiled softly. "And I find you in a random park while drawing a butterfly."

"Don't underestimate nature's camouflage," you chuckled. "And hey, you think that's ironic? Butterflies are so scarce I got this," you rolled up your left sleeve a little, revealing your butterfly tattoo.

Steve's eyes widened. "It's beautiful," he automatically reached out to trace the lines on your arm, then withdraws his arm when he understands what he's doing. "It's not as beautiful as you," he says with a smile on his face.

You avert your eyes to the ground in front of you. "Thank you," you bashfully say.

You and Steve got your ice cream, and you exchanged plenty of stories of your adventures in search of each other, most of which were devastating when they happened but when you look back at them now, they were actually pretty funny.

"I hope I can see you again," Steve said when it was getting a little late.

He looked so hopeful, but the question in itself made you want to laugh at the obviousness of the answer. Instead, you rose onto your tiptoes, and planted your lips on his soft ones in a sweet kiss.

Once you parted you took a napkin and wrote down your number. "I sure hope to see you soon," you smiled.

"I'll call you, butterfly," Steve grinned and you beamed at the nickname.

And that night you both went home with huge smiles smeared across your faces. Finally, your quest to find your soulmate was at an end, and you could start a new journey, together.

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horrorxweasley · 3 years

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(Part 1) Triple W Mafia George x Fem! Y/N series

Warnings: Swearing! that’s it really (unless I've missed something then please let me know)

Word Count: 2,174

Summary: George Weasley is a renowned Mafia boss who took over from his Father Arthur once he retired, to carry on the Triple W mafia legacy. The only mafia known to be able to keep the Death Eaters (their rival mafia) at bay. However there is one item that they stole from the Triple W’s which George is determined to get back...his mothers necklace, the family heirloom. Y/N Greyback has been forced to comply with the Death Eaters wishes as her family are high up members. What happens when George and Y/N meet? And what happens when they fall in love?

Series Masterlist

The lights were dim in the what looked like to be an old bar room, the red hue coming from the red lamp shades hitting the walls. Smoke from cigars fogging up the top half of the room barely keeping the floor below visible. At each table there were groups of men, all sitting in perfectly tailored suits, sipping on their glasses of whiskey, laughing and having a good time. At the back of the room however, sat one man, alone. His elbow propped up on the arm of his chair, his finger brushing over his top lip as if he were deep in thought. His other hand held the same glass as every other man in the bar, lazily not caring if it were to fall and smash everywhere.

The man, George Weasley, a tall ginger man who’s eyes were the dark but kind shade of brown. Although seemingly intimidating, George had a kind heart, if he seen someone being attacked or robbed in the street, everyone would end up feeling bad for the attacker by the time George was finished with him. He had no time for the scum who go out of their way to make someone else’s life a living hell in order for them to feel a small, temporary taste for a God complex.

George had only recently taken over the title of the Triple W Mafia Boss, when his father Arthur had decided it was his time to retire and pass over the family ‘business’ to one of his sons. George was one of 6 sons and one daughter within the Weasley family. His identical twin brother Fred was technically supposed to become the next Mafia boss, as he was the older twin. But, he had decided that his brother George was more fit to the job than he was. So, George gratefully took over the role and appointed Fred and his younger brother Ron, to be his sort of ‘Body Guards’ although, of course George was far from needing any form of help when it came to beating or killing a criminal, it was still always good to have a little back up sometimes.

“Hey Georgie, what’s the plan then? What we gonna do about these damn Death Eaters?”

George sat, not moving, deep in thought. ‘What was he going to do about those Death Eaters?’ He has no where to start, the bastards are constantly on the run. He was determined to find their whereabouts however, as they had stolen something very precious to him, his mother’s necklace. The Weasley family heirloom.

In a room that was very clearly abandoned and covered in moss and mould, sat groups of men and some women in black cloaks with peculiar pointed hoods. These people, in contrast to that of which the Triple W members, appeared extremely intimidating. The members of Triple W were intimidating, but these were the sort of people no one would want to encounter in the streets, day or night. There was no smoke from cigars in this small dingy room, there was however and eye watering stench, that was so strong some of the Death Eaters swore they seen a slight foggy green haze floating around the room.

All cloaked members were sitting in a circle all surrounding their leader Tom Riddle, or as he likes to call himself ‘Voldemort’. A tall man (not as tall as George) with black, short curly hair. He wasn’t wearing a cloak like his ‘followers’ but was wearing something that looked more like a bath robe, it was all black of course to fit in with the rest. All were listening in carefully to what he was saying, all apart form Y/N Greyback, daughter of Fenrir Greyback, a man who is considered very high up in the Death Eater mafia. She was sat in the corner, wearing a contrasting blood red dress that hugged all of her curves perfectly. Her Y/H/C hair was curled at the ends in neat ringlets, and she had some makeup on but not too much so she looked ‘dolled up’.

“We all know that the Triple W are cowering out in some fancy old bar, trouble is we don’t know where, I’ve had a few out scouting round the area, unfortunately they have all been caught” Riddle speaks out gesturing and engaging with his followers.

“What do you suggest we do then sir?” Said Fenrir who was sitting right next to where Riddle was parading around the room.

“I say we send out our most valuable member, of course, real them in, make them vulnerable” he smirked

“You don’t mean…”

“Oh yes, but I do, your daughter shall make excellent bate my dear friend, for she wears what Weasley most desires” Riddle finishes

Y/N too busy sat in the corner reading an old book, didn’t even notice that every Death Eater members eyes were on her, all smiling to themselves.

This may actually work, if we send out Y/N who is wearing that incredibly expensive looking, diamond necklace, it may just lure the idiot ginger straight to us” Fenrir laughed.

So their plan was set, send Y/N as bait and hopefully George would follow.

- George still hadn’t moved from the position he was sat in, he hadn’t taken a single sip of his drink, his eyes focussed and barely ever blinking. He was seemingly ignoring every person who tried to get a word out of him for some sort of plan to take down their Rival mafia. Sure he had killed a lot of spies they had sent out, but he was getting absolutely no leads on where exactly they were coming from, Riddle was smarter than he thought. It seemed he had Death Eaters coming from all over the country in all different directions and disguises. George had to find some way in order to track down where exactly they were based.

The sounds of other members arguing, specifically Fred and Ron who were standing right next to where George was sat, started to sound like a horrible ringing noise, it was driving him insane, how could he concentrate when these buffoon’s were yelling nonsense at each other.

“WILL YOU ALL SHUT UP” He yelled now getting up from his seat and walking to the middle of the smoky room.

“I can’t fucking think when you’re all fighting and arguing with each other on what we’re going to do. I am very aware that those bastards are close to finding us, alright? They’ve gained more members in the past few months than I can count on my two hands. Problem is, they’re coming from all over the country, there is no set direction from where they’re all coming from, meaning that they aren’t coming from their base. This brings us to our next problem, what we’re going to do about it. The only thing I can suggest right now, which I believe may actually be our only two options, is either we leave and find a new base OR we send out multiple people all round the general area of here just outside the boarders of this town where the forests are. Each mile will have two of our members, armed and ready to capture and interrogate anyone that comes from outside the town. This includes anyone who seems innocent to the eye I.e. a mother and child as we all know by now there are families who have been a part of the Death Eaters for years, long enough for them to welcome their children. If you see a mother and child however, you of course don’t attack them straight away, you take them for questioning and more importantly, you look for that damn skull snake monstrosity that they all have tattooed on their left forearm.”

George stands looking between each of his guys trying to gauge what they were thinking by their faces.

“So what’s it to be? Hands up if you think we should move”

No one put their hands up and George smiled knowing that everyone in Triple W are too loyal to the town of Diagon to even consider leaving.

“Good choice boys, now” he rubs his hands together “who’s volunteering to be part of the watch team?”

- Y/N couldn’t believe her ears when she heard the plan to trick Triple W into following her back to the Death Eaters. She also had no idea that the beautiful silver diamond necklace that hung lazily round her neck was the stolen Weasley heirloom.

The actions of her family disgusted her, she knew that what they stood for and what they were doing was wrong, but putting her in harms way all over a stupid rivalry, AND tricking her into thinking that the necklace she had was a gift. She felt so stupid for believing them, Y/N had no options but to accept that she was going to have to go along with their horrendous plan and bait George and other members of Triple W into following her back into her family and Riddle’s evil grasp.

“Perfect” Riddle smiled grimly when Y/N accepted

“But of course, we can’t just lure them in, in one mere night, no, you have to spread this out over the course of a few days. Have him become intrigued by you, follow you a little while. You’ll be staying in a place called the Leaky Cauldron, don’t let him see you in there, it’ll blow your cover. Make sure he only sees you walking through the streets. Got it?”

Y/N tentatively nodded her head

“Good, and then, when the time is right, you’ll lead him straight here. We’ll be in communication with you, don’t let me down”

Y/N shakily made her way to Diagon, bags packed and the necklace still hanging round her neck. She had since changed into a black, silk dress, helping the bright silver of the necklace stand out against the dark colour of her clothes, further, of course to draw George Weasley’s attention.

Once she had settled into her room at the Leaky Cauldron, she was given specific instruction to make sure she wondered round the street at night, as that is most likely when Triple W members will come out from wherever they were hiding.

Y/N took a step out into the cold crisp night air, her heels click clacking off the stone pavements. She couldn’t help but take in the beauty of the town, cobblestone roads winding all through it, the windows on each building slightly askew but somehow didn’t seem out of place. It was as if she were walking through an old victorian town.

Snapping her thoughts back to the task at hand, she pulled her black shawl over her shoulders more and continued to wander aimlessly round, trying to find some form of clue as to were Triple W were hiding.

- George was more than satisfied with the outcome of the meeting they had today. He had 40 people on a list to keep watch each mile surrounding Diagon, meaning that all 20 miles would be covered. They all had their instructions ingrained into their heads and were ready to get to work the next day. Fred and Ron as usual would stay within Diagon with George, communicating to those who were out surrounding the area getting updates and passing round information. George had also decided to send a few extra spies out, including his younger sister Ginny to be on the look out for any Death Eater members who may still be lurking round the town.

George, Fred and Ron made their way out of the old bar room, and onto the streets. George made sure that they each had means of contacting each other. Fred whom George would normally live with, agreed that they each should have their own flats or place to stay in order to cover more of Diagon, and therefore be more accessible to those out in the forest. With their last goodbyes and a few phone calls to book places to stay, the three brothers separated all going in opposite directions.

George headed down the street, his hands becoming slightly red from the cold, and he could see his breath in the air. The dim orange streetlights barely lighting up the path as he walked past the old crooked houses and shops.

Just a George turned the corner he bumped into someone, a woman, dressed in a black dress and shawl.

“Oh I’m so sorry miss, I wasn’t looking where I was going properly, these damn street lights barely light up 2 feet in front of you. Are you alright” George asked looking into her eyes with worry

“I’m perfectly fine, sir, thank you” she smiled back and walked away

But George followed her with his eyes, more specifically he followed her neck, because what was hanging from it made him do a double take. He knew those diamonds from anywhere, they way they glistened brightly in every light. Was that, his mother’s stolen necklace?

Taglist: @amourtentiaa @love-peachh @pens-and-roses @rosietoesy @comfortwriting @famdomhideout @dracofknmalfoy @pandaxnienke @georgeweasleysbabe @le-weasley-simp (MESSAGE/ASK IF YOU WANT TO BE ADDED)

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es-kay-zee · 3 years

Text

The Closet | Jeongin x Reader

I DID IT!! I finally finished another piece. Once again it is 5am when I’m posting but that’s okay. Hopefully tomorrow I can get to another request :) Also, I did not expect to write something this long but here we are.

Warnings: non!idol au, unprotected sex, fingering (f receiving) drinking, sex under the influence

Requested: Yes

Word count: 3.9k

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When your friend Felix had invited you to a party with all his friends, you were somewhat hesitant to go. Felix was your roommate and the two of you got along quite well, leading to you becoming good friends. Both of you sharing a major in dance also helped strengthen your friendship. When Felix first introduced you to his entire friend group, you were stunned. All of them were quite attractive. But there was one of his friends that caught your eye the most; Jeongin.

The more often you hung out with Felix and his friends, the more your crush on Jeongin intensified. Which is why you were hesitant to attend the party. Knowing you’ll be in an environment with both alcohol and Jeongin made you nervous. Alcohol tended to make you brave. Maybe even brave enough to make a move on Jeongin despite you being positive that he doesn’t like you back in that way.

What you didn’t realise, was that Felix and the others were well aware that you liked Jeongin. Except Jeongin himself, of course. They could also see how painfully obvious he was about liking you back, which you were oblivious to. They would watch as Jeongin made time out of his day to go visit the café where you worked despite it being across town from where his dorm was. You’d both known each other for a few months by now, and the others were reaching their breaking point. It was so painfully obvious that you liked each other and at first, they’d decided that they wouldn’t get involved in any way. But now, after watching you and Jeongin pining after each other for so long, they came up with a plan. Chan decided to throw a small party at his parent’s place while they were out of town and Felix was given the task of making sure you attended.

“I don’t know, Lix. I don’t know if I’m in a party mood, you know what I mean,” you said to the blond-haired boy. There was no way in hell that you were gonna tell him the real reason why you didn’t want to go.

“Come on, it’ll be fun. Besides, you don’t have to stay the whole time if you don’t want to.” He tried to convince you. “All the others are gonna be there. You haven’t had the chance to catch up with any of them for a couple of weeks.”

He was right. You’d been pretty busy the past couple of weeks. Your job had given you more hours because another worker quit, and they were left understaffed. Between the extra hours and your classes, you didn’t have any free time to hang out. But your job had just hired replacement, so you got to have some spare time again.

“Please? Everyone misses you. I swear sometimes that they like you more than they like me,” Felix continued, desperately trying to persuade you into attending the party. You take a deep breath before letting out a deep sigh. It was hard for you to say no to Felix when he was looking at you with pleading eyes. It was almost as if he had a power over you that could make you do anything he wanted.

“Fine, I’ll go. But I don’t want to be out too late. I have class in the morning.”

And that was how you found yourself with Felix in the back of an Uber, heading towards Chan’s house. The ride there was filled with comfortable conversation between you and Felix as you try to ignore the nervous butterflies in your stomach.

Finally reaching your destination, you leave the Uber, making sure to thank the driver. You and Felix head towards the front door before entering the house. You can hear the music playing over Chan’s portable speaker in the living room as well as the sounds of everyone chattering away.

Rounding the corner and coming into view of the boys, they give you a warm welcome. A series of hellos and heys while Chan stands to give you a welcoming hug. You take a seat on the floor next to Changbin, grabbing one of the drinks you brought with you out of your bag. You open the beverage, taking a long drink from it, feeling the alcohol hit your stomach. You make eye contact with Jeongin across the coffee table and smile at him. He smiles back and you take another long drink, trying to calm your nerves.

“We should play truth or dare.” Hyunjin’s voice spoke up. You and the others nodded, agreeing to play the game.

The game goes pretty smoothly, the boys choosing a variety of truths and dares ranging from ‘what is something you’re keeping secret from your parents’ to ‘I dare you to let someone shave your leg’. And then it was your turn.

“Y/n, truth or dare?” Hyunjin asked.

“Truth,” you responded confidently. Knowing these boys, they’d come up with some god-awful dare if you chose to accept one.

“Alright, do you have a crush on anyone?” You almost choke on your own spit at the question. You hadn’t expected it at all, even though you probably should have. You weighed up in your mind whether or not you should say yes. On one hand, you didn’t want to admit you had a crush on Jeongin, but on the other hand, he’d only asked if you had a crush on anyone, not who you had a crush on. You take a deep breath before answering.

“Yes, I do.” You avoided making eye contact with any of them as you answered, meaning that you missed the flash of hurt in Jeongin’s eyes. It had never crossed his mind that he was your crush, so he assumed you liked someone else.

“Who is it?” Hyunjin continued.

“Nope, only one question per turn,” you countered, not wanting to answer.

The game continues, and before long it’s back to your turn again. You were going to choose dare, deciding you’d rather do whatever cruel dare they come up with, but you had just enough alcohol in your system that you didn’t think before answering when Felix asked you “truth or dare”.

“Truth,” you said, once again.

“Who do you have a crush on?” They were hoping you were brave enough (or drunk enough) to admit it out loud that you liked Jeongin. You had the rule for the game that if someone didn’t want to answer their truth question or do their dare then they could take a drink instead. And you utilised the rule when you finished half of your drink in one go.

“I’m not answering that,” you said, putting your drink down and grabbing another one from your bag. By this point you were on your fourth drink and luckily, you could handle your alcohol. The others had had about the same number of drinks as you, if not a couple more.

“Why don’t we play another game?” Jeongin asked, sensing your discomfort with the question.

“Sure. What should we play?” Jisung faced the younger boy.

“How about hide and seek? This is a decent sized house; it should be fun.”

Once again, everyone nodded in agreement, trying to decide who will ‘seek’ first.

“I’ll do it,” Chan offered, everyone else agreeing. “Seeing as we’re all kinda drunk, I’ll give you all 2 whole minutes to hide.”

Chan remains seated on the couch as you and the others frantically clamber to your feet. You all scatter around the house in search of good hiding spots. Luckily, it doesn’t take you too long to find a closet to hide in. Unluckily, however, not long after you, Jeongin also clambers into the semi-spacious closet. He doesn’t notice you at first, mostly due to you not saying anything and pushing yourself up against the wall opposite the closet door. A few seconds pass before you do decide to speak up.

“Couldn’t find your own hiding spot?” you said. You can see him physically jump at the sound of your voice, not at all expecting someone else to already be in there.

“Holy shit, y/n. You scared the crap out of me,” he chuckled quietly.

“Sorry,” you laugh along with him. A silence falls between the two of you, not uncomfortable but not necessarily comfortable either.

It’s a few more minutes before either of you decide to break said silence.

“So, why didn’t you want to say who you have a crush on?” You stare blankly at Jeongin for a moment, the question taking you by surprise.

“Um, mostly because they’re my friend and I know that they don’t feel the same way about me as I do about them.” Jeongin nods along to your response before he pauses in thought.

“Wait. None of us really know your other friends, so there’s no harm in telling us. Unless-” he pauses. “Is it one of us? And by us I mean the other guys?” You hadn’t expected him to work it out that quickly. You hadn’t really expected him to work it out at all. But he can tell by the way you turn away from him, as well as the deep blush on your cheeks, that he’s right. He was hoping he was wrong, not wanting you, his crush, to have your own crush on one of his friends.

“Who is it? I promise I won’t tell.” You turn back to him, briefly looking him in the eye before looking down to the ground, shaking your head no.

“Why not? I pinkie promise.” He takes a few steps closer to you, holding out his pinkie. He doesn’t really want to know who it is, so he won’t push you if you truly won’t tell him. He at least wants you to trust him as a friend if you don’t like him. You’re sure that the alcohol flowing through your veins is making you brave, just like you feared it would, but you reach out and link your own pinkie with his.

“Say it.” He smiles at you shyly, admiring how soft your hand is against his. His eyes flicker down from your eyes to your lips for a fraction of a moment, wondering if they’re just as soft as your hands. But you don’t notice the way he admires you face in the low lighting of the closet because you’re still refusing to make eye contact with Jeongin.

“I promise that I won’t tell anyone.”

“And promise that you won’t get upset with me.” Your demand throws him off for a second, confused as to why he would be upset.

“Y/n, why would I get upset-”

“Just promise me.”

“Okay,” he whispers, his heart hammering in his chest. He could barely conceal his happiness that you were trusting him and confiding in him. “I promise.”

“It’s you,” you mumble quietly, somewhat hoping he wouldn’t hear you.

“What?” He couldn’t hide the smile growing on his face even as you still refuse to look at him. “Me? You like me?”

“Please don’t get upset. You promised you wouldn’t.” Your eyes were trained on the way yours and his pinkies were still entwined, waiting for him to pull away from you. But you’re surprised when he doesn’t.

“Please tell me you’re not joking, y/n.” You finally look him in the eye, not expecting his response.

“I mean it.”

Before you can even blink, his hands are cupping your face delicately, as he leans in closer to you. “Can I kiss you?”

You nod slowly, your mind still processing what’s happening. His lips press against yours and it’s everything you’ve every dreamed of. His lips are soft and sweet against yours and the kiss feels like it’s meant to be. It feels like he’s the only person in the world that you should be kissing, and your hands slide up to clasp the back of his neck. You’d never experienced a kiss as perfect as this one with Jeongin. But unfortunately, you are pulled back to reality by the sound of a voice shouting somewhere in the house.

“I give up! Jeongin! Y/n! You guys win! I can’t find you two! Come out and we’ll play something else!” Chan yells out.

You and Jeongin pull away from each other, slightly out of breath.

“We should probably head back to the others then,” you say, not really wanting to leave the closet.

“Yeah, probably.” Jeongin steps back from you, heading towards the closet door. He tries to turn the handle before turning back to face you again. “Um, the door won’t open.”

You frown slightly in confusion, stepping past him to the door. Sure enough, when you turn the handle, it doesn’t open. “Well then. I guess we’ll just have to stay in here.”

You walk back towards him, a smile on your face. His smile hasn’t left his face since you told him that he was your crush. He reaches his hands out towards you, pulling you closer to him by your waist. “Yeah, I guess we will.”

His grip on you has butterflies erupting in your stomach as you both lean in for another kiss. It’s still just as perfect as the first one. The kiss deepens, but you aren’t sure if you or Jeongin are the culprit. Either way, it doesn’t matter. All that matters to you right now is Jeongin’s lips moving against yours as your hands return to their spot at the back of his neck, your fingers lacing through his soft hair. His hands slowly rub up and down your sides, occasionally stopping to play with the hem of your shirt before continuing on their path along your waist. His hands settle on your hips, his thumbs resting in the waistband of your pants. His hands roam your body again, unable to settle in once place for long. This time, they rub up and down your back, getting lower each time they head south. He gives your ass a small squeeze, resulting in a small gasp from you.

“Sorry, got a little carried away there,” he whispers against your lips, chuckling softly.

“It’s okay. I like it,” you giggle shyly.

“Oh, do you?” he teases. “So, you like it when I do this?”

You let out the quietest of moans when he grips your ass tighter than before, nodding your head in response. The feeling of his hands sends a wave of arousal to your core. His hands return to the hem of your shirt. He fiddles with the fabric, clutching it between his fingers. Your own fingers tug tighter at his hair. He groans at the pull, gripping your shirt tighter. You can tell he’s holding back, not wanting to make you uncomfortable but as much as you appreciate that, you want to get this moving.

You step back from him, and strip off your shirt, watching the way his eyes immediately go to your chest. Your hands reach behind you to unclasp your bra, but he stops you before you can. “May I?” he asks. You nod your head eagerly.

He himself unclasps your bra, tossing the clothing item on the floor alongside your discarded shirt. He groans lowly at the sight of your bare chest, nipples perking up at the cold air hitting them. In mere seconds, Jeongin has your back pressed up against the wall, his lips hungrily devouring your own. One of his hands come up to cup your right breast, rubbing his thumb over your sensitive bud, eliciting a soft moan from you. His lips detach from your own, trailing down under your jaw, down your collarbone, leaving a trail of love bites in his wake. You moan out a bit louder as his warm mouth finds your left bud, sucking on it harshly. He pulls his head away from your chest, looking you in the eye.

“You’ve gotta be quiet. I don’t want the others to hear the pretty sounds you make,” he whispers before his mouth continues its work against your nipple. Jeongin can’t help but feel giddy about the fact that he’s the reason you’re making those sounds, knowing that he’s the one making you feel good. And, hopefully, pretty shortly he’s going to make you feel even better.

Immediately, you bite your lip to quieten yourself, instinctively wanting to do whatever Jeongin tells you to do. Your hands reach out to toy with the hem of his own shirt, wanting him to remove it. Thankfully, he feels the tug of your hands and gets the message, stepping back to remove it before returning to your chest. His ministrations on your body only makes you more aroused, already soaking through your underwear.

“Jeongin, please touch me,” you whimper out, trying to get him to touch you where you needed him most.

“I am touching you, baby.” You relish in the nickname, loving the way it sounds coming from his mouth. “Or do you want me to touch you somewhere else?” Your face heats up in a blush, not wanting to say the words out loud. But you can tell that he won’t do it without you saying it to him.

“Somewhere else,” you reply.

“Where? Here? Or here?” His hands land on different parts of your body, from your waist to your hips to your ass, avoiding where you want him. You whine, too aroused to put up with his teasing.

“Here,” you say, grabbing one of his hands and bringing it to your clothed core. His middle finger begins to circle your clit through your clothes, earning another quiet moan from you. He pulls his hand away, placing his mouth back on yours as he undoes the button and zipper of your pants. He pulls them down your legs before you kick them off the rest of the way, along with your underwear. He pushes himself against you, your back still against the wall.

He rolls his hips against yours slowly, letting out a soft moan of his own at the sensation. You can feel his hardened member through his pants brush against you and it only continues to excite you. His hand snakes down between your bodies and he runs a finger through your slick folds.

“Shit, you’re so wet. And I’ve barely done anything,” Jeongin smirks.

“Please just fuck me already,” you plead, beyond ready to have his dick in you.

“Be patient, y/n. This is our first time together, there’s no need to rush.”

“The other’s will be wondering where we are,” you counter.

“Let them wonder. It’s none of their business.” All concern about the others disappears when he dips a finger into your entrance. He pumps the digit in and out a few times before adding a second, followed swiftly by a third. You dig you head into the crook of his neck, trying desperately to muffle your moans from the stretch he’s providing you.

Once he brings his other hand down to rub your clit while he continues to work his magic inside you, your legs begin to shake from the pleasure.

“Shit- Jeongin, I’m close,” you whimper, feeling the knot in your stomach tighten.

“Come on, baby. Cum for me.” His encouragement is all you need to come undone on his fingers and Jeongin can’t help but watch the way your face contorts in pleasure. “Good girl,” he praises once you come down from your high. You were surprised that you’d managed to stay quiet during your orgasm. You bring one your own hands down between the two of you, palming Jeongin through his pants, eager to make him feel good as well. He pulls his hands away from your pussy, opting instead to quickly remove his own pants.

Once they’re off, along with his own underwear, you can’t help but marvel at his length. You admire how he appears to be just the right size for you, and you reach out to stroke him again. He has to take a deep breath to ground himself when your thumb brushes over his slit.

“Jump,” he orders. You quickly oblige, wrapping your legs around him as he holds you up by your hips. He takes one hand and lines himself up with your entrance, using the wall to help him keep you up.

He pushes into you slowly, sinking into you inch by inch. You think he’s moving so slowly so as not to hurt you, but he’s actually doing so that he doesn’t cum right then and there. You both marvel at how perfectly he fits in you once he bottoms out. He pauses there, allowing you both a moment to catch your breath. You manage to get a hold of yourself, but he still doesn’t move, and you begin to squirm against him.

“Please move,” you whimper, your head falling back against the wall when he does. His thrusts are slow at first, still not wanting to cum too early on. But with all the teasing he was doing to you earlier, he was also getting himself worked up as well.

“Fuck. You feel so good,” Jeongin manages to say, his thrusts beginning to speed up. His lips reattach themselves to your throat, sucking more dark blemishes into the soft skin. You mewl at the added sensation, feeling the knot in your stomach tighten for the second time.

Jeongin can feel his own end coming too, but he’d determined to make you cum again before him. His hand finds your clit once again and he rubs quick circles against it, pushing you over the edge.

“Jeongin, I’m cumming-” You’re cut off by your orgasm washing over you, your body shaking in Jeongin’s hold. And he’s sure it’s a combination of your pussy clenching tightly around him and you moaning out his name that has him finishing with you, his cum shooting into you in hot bursts. His hips continue to roll into yours, riding out both of your highs. He pulls out of you, you both panting in an attempt to catch your breaths. He places you back on the ground, your legs shaky under you. You grab onto his shoulders to hold yourself up and he smiles at you.

He grabs your clothes and passes them to you before grabbing his own and getting redressed. You also get dressed and turn to face him once again. “So, does this mean you’ll be my girlfriend? Or should I take you on a date first?”

You break out into the biggest smile Jeongin has ever seen, giggling at his question. You lean into him, placing a chaste kiss against his lips. “Of course I’ll be your girlfriend, Jeongin. I’d be a bit upset if I wasn’t after this. But we should probably head out to the others now. We’ve kept them waiting long enough.”

Jeongin nods in agreement, following you towards the door. You reach for the handle and pull, forgetting that it wouldn’t open. “Shit, wait. I forgot. We’re stuck in here.”

Jeongin chuckled, reaching past you to turn the lock. “Nah, it was just me. I’d locked the door. You’d said we should go back out, but I didn’t want to yet.”

You turn around to face him, gawking at the gall of him. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” you giggle, playfully swatting him in the arm. He chuckles as you open the door, following you out and back towards the living room. Jeongin admires you as you walk, happy to finally be able to call you his.

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