#that wide eyed stare and heavy breathing. the outbursts. i get that. i get that so much | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

latte-fairytaekwoon · 3 years

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Noona, Do You Not Like Younger Men? (Choi San+Jung Wooyoung)

Pairing: Choi San× Milf! Reader (Female)× Jung Wooyoung

Genre: Smut, Fluff, Idol AU.

Summary: Maybe going over to pester their favorite manager during her vacation wasn't such a bad idea, especially if it ends up with them getting what they always fantasized about every night.

Word Count: 4.2+K

Warnings: Age differences (still within legal boundaries), breast play including titty fucking (yeah I'm aware some of us don't have huge tits, I'm part of that squad but we can dream ok?) fingering, m+f+m threesome, ass grinding, spanking, degradation.

Taglist: @little-precious-baby @galaxteez @multidreams-and-desires @yunhofingers @yunhoiseyecandy @deja-vux @daniblogs164 @brie02 @couchpotatoaniki @a-soft-hornytiny

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Y/N's eyes squinted at the two younger males who casually showed up at her home, uninvited and already letting themselves in as if they owned the place.

"Hi Noona. Did you miss us?" The older one of the two squished her cheeks together, earning him a slap on his wrist, which he did not appreciate.

"Aww Noona, now look what you've done. You made him sad." The other male pointed to the other's pout.

"Choi San and Jung Wooyoung, just what the hell do you think you're doing here?" She crossed her arms over her chest.

"Isn't it obvious? We came to keep you company!" San cheerfully exclaimed.

"We know you missed us so we decided to come over and spend time with our favorite manager." Wooyoung added as he went over to try and cling an arm around the older woman, but she brushed his hand away.

"Ok, in case you guys didn't know, I'm on vacation, a well needed vacation from my manager duties. Specifically from you two! You little brats who constantly give me migraines and high blood pressure. I got this vacation to get away from you both!"

The boys were taken aback by her outburst, looking back and forth between each other and then returned their faces back to her. Their somber and disappointed expressionism soon bursted out in laughter, confusing the woman in front of them.

"Oh Noona! You're so funny." San giggled.

"We know you love and adore us so much. And you're happy that we came to keep you company!" Against her will, and more since she was outnumbered, she let Wooyoung and San each take one of her arm and drag her over to the living room where they sat her down and started arranging the space so they could have a small movie day. Y/N let out slow and deep breaths as she tried not to lose her patience and just let the boys run around her house as they started putting the snacks they brought with them into bowls. She could hear them muttering angrily to each other from the kitchen, no doubt telling each other to be careful less they accidentally broke one of her plates. In less than 10 minutes, they had about 7 or 8 different bowls full of different snacks, ranging from crispy chips, to sour gummy worms and even different types of sweet chocolates.

"We even got mochi ice cream! Would you like some?" Wooyoung enthusiastically shoved the case that contained assorted flavors of the icy dessert.

Knowing she might as well enjoy the gluttonous snacks while she could, Y/N skimmed her hand over them and picked out one of the mint chocolate mochis and stuffed it in her mouth. Unbeknownst to her, the man on her right was staring at her with a wide smile as she ate the ice cream. When she noticed, she gave him a puzzled look and scooted further away from him.

"You chose the mint chocolate flavor." He giddily stated.

"Yes....any problem with that?" She questioned.

San emitted happy squeals at that.

"I love mint chocolate flavor too! Don't you see Noona? This further proves that were soulmates and destined to be together!"

Without even asking or warning, he snuggled himself against her, an arm around her waist as he used her chest as a makeshift pillow. Coming back from the kitchen, Wooyoung glared at San when he saw how close he was with their manager.

"Hey! No fair. Don't hog Noona up for yourself. We promised to share!" He quickly jumped on the other side and tried to tangle himself around her, proving to be difficult when San was pushing him away. Y/N ended up being pulled and tugged from both sides as the boys fought amongst themselves for her. Fed up with their antics, she reached her hands over and smacked both of their thighs sharply, making them retreat away from her less they suffered more physical pain from her.

"I want both of you to stay at least an arm's length away from me if you're planning to stay here and watch a movie. And absolutely under no circumstances do I want either of your mouths opening to sputter nonsense and annoy me further...Got it?!"

Both of the idols scooted to either ends of the couch, each grabbing a nearby cushion to keep them company and to protect them in case they furthered irritated their off duty manager. Y/N took a deep breath as she rubbed the side of her temples, letting the boys pick out which movie they wanted to watch. She probably wouldn't even enjoy the movie with the two rascals nearby, she thought to herself. Wooyoung and San settled for a cute looking movie, both of them hoping that the fluffy contents would soften up Y/N so they could cuddle up next to her once more. The woman however cringed when she saw the title.

"Ugh. Wake me up when whatever chick flick you chose is over." She settled back onto the couch, her eyes already closing.

"Aww come on Noona, give it a try. You might even like it." San suggested.

"Romantic movies have never been my type." She mumbled out, her hand reaching out to take some of the popcorn on the table to stuff in her mouth.

The movie played out exactly as she expected it to. Nothing short of all the typical cliches and stereotypes portrayed on every single romantic comedy made in existence. The boys would often look back at her every few minutes, their faces getting more and more discouraged when their manager didn't seem to be enjoying their company. It seemed that their plan to get close to her backfired as she was currently resting her chin on her palms, dozing off slowly while not paying one bit of attention on the screen in front of her.

"Told you to pick a scary movie." San complained to his friend.

"Your chicken ass can't even handle them." Wooyoung side eyed him.

"Yeah, but jump scares serve as an excuse to hug the person next to you." He tilted his head over to Y/N.

"Nice move, saying your plan out loud for her to hear. You dumbass."

Taking the pillow he had, San chucked it at Wooyoung, knocking the snacks he was currently eating onto the floor. Grabbing the pillow, he made move to throw it once more, but Y/N held a hand up.

"Throw that cushion and I will choke you Jung Wooyoung."

The warned boy immediately sat the cushion back down, setting his hands down on his lap.

"Please do...."

Y/N's half lidded eyes sprung wide open when she heard his whisper. Slowly she turned her head at him, of course Wooyoung noticed out of the corner of his eye and swallowed harshly. He didn't think she was paying attention enough to hear him, but she was. Wooyoung soon felt flushed as she eyed him with an indiscernible stare, trying desperately to focus his attention on the movie in front of him but the heavy weight of her stare kept burning through him. Seeing as he wasn't going to say or do anything else, Y/N decided it would be fun to tease him like he'd often tease her. Sliding on top of him, to the surprise of not only Wooyoung but his friend on the other side, Y/N hummed softly as her fingers ran up his chest.

"Please do what Wooyoung? Choke you? Is that what you want? Want my hand wrapped around that pretty of neck of yours?"

The flustered male shuddered when her fingers encapsulated over the front of his neck, lightly applying pressure against his Adam's apple with her palm.

"Oh someone likes this a little too much." She chuckled as she subtly rolled her hips on his tent that formed as soon as she touched him.

"Please Noona.." Wooyoung squirmed underneath her body, hips trying to grind up against hers.

"I barely did anything and you're already begging for me. You're an even bigger whore than I thought you were." She let out an annoyed 'tsk' as she slowly began to get off his lap.

When Wooyoung felt her detaching herself, his hands came out to clasp her waist, keeping her firmly planted on his lap.

"Yes I am, I'm such a whore for you Noona. But please don't leave me here like this." He whined at her, looking completely pitiful as his hands desperately tried to keep her from moving. Y/N reached a hand out to toss some of the hair away from his forehead, her mind already working on ways to play around with the young male. Noticing that his eyes kept falling towards her chest, she suddenly got an idea.

"You like my breasts Wooyoungie?"

Her question caught him off guard, eyes widening, looking like a deer caught in headlights, especially after she called him by his nickname. He was beyond flustered, unable to look up at his manager anymore.

"I asked you a question Wooyoungie and I expect an answer or else I'll leave you hanging there and make you watch as I play with Sannie instead."

The forgotten male beside them became excited at hearing her words, his hand rubbing against his inner thigh, slowly creeping up to the bulge in his pants. Tilting his chin up to look at her, Y/N repeated her question once more, expecting him to reply as it was his last chance.

"Y-yes. I like your breasts very much Noona." He finally admitted.

Satisfied at getting an answer, Y/N pulled away from Wooyoung so she could start removing her shirt, both boys watching her without batting an eyelash. When her bra dropped on the floor, they both stared in awe at her voluptuous chest, mouths agape and nearly drooling at the sight.

"Fuck, they're just-wow." San chimed in, tongue wetting the center of his lips.

"You like them too Sannie? I always thought you were more of an ass guy." She commented with a knowing smile, recalling all the times he'd come up behind her and greet her with a pat on her bum.

"Oh hell yeah I am, but I'd never say no to an opportunity to suck on a pretty pair of tits." He acknowledged with no hesitation.

"Is that so? Well then."

Prying Wooyoung's hands off her, Y/N sat herself back in between the boys, hands cupping both of her breasts to gently massage them in her palms, fingers tweaking at her nipples which were slowly getting fully erect. The two men at her sides watched with hungry eyes, only imagining how soft and tender her breasts must feel, both wanting to replace her hands with their own. Unbeknownst to them, they were about to get a better offer.

"There's one for each of you my loves, so go ahead. Put your pretty mouths on them and suck on them. And maybe if you do good enough, I'll play more with you guys."

Wooyoung and San simultaneously looked at one another, both wondering if they heard her correctly or it was another perverted thought their mind played on them. Realizing it was not, San was the first one to be bold as he cupped the breast nearest to him and brought it up to his lips, where he proceeded to coat the areola with spit before he latching onto it.

"So you're more of a dirty boy, aren't you Sannie?" She mused at him, fingers brushing some of the bangs on his face.

San only responded by lifting his eyes momentarily to shoot a wink her way before indulging back in his task of suckling on her tit. Y/N turned her attention to Wooyoung, who was still nervously sitting there in a pliant manner. She beckoned for him to come closer.

"Wooyoungie, my other breast feels lonely."

Getting the hint, Wooyoung lowered himself and practically squished his face into her fleshy mound. As expected, he was very vocal, spewing out lewd sounds as he harshly sucked on her nipple, bringing in as much of her as he could possibly put in his mouth. Y/N laid her head back on the top of the couch, mouth drawing out heavy breaths and pants as she relaxed and enjoyed the sensation of the the younger male's mouths on her breasts, their tongues and teeth eagerly swirling and nibbling on her sensitive flesh. She noticed how both of them had completely different patterns. Whereas San's suckling was less intense, it was definitely more sloppy, spit dribbling down his chin and down her chest from all the insane movements his tongue worked on her nipple, each of them clearly focused on bringing her as much pleasure as possible. Wooyoung was definitely more intense and full of eagerness, but each swirl of his tongue or nibbling on her skin was less meditated and more like he was simply enjoying to taste the older woman, playing around with her breast as if it was a toy for him to fondle and tease as he pleased. Not that she minded, she loved being used as a toy by them both.

She became so lost in the feeling of their mouths on her body that she didn't notice the hands that had traveled in between her thighs until she felt them prying them open in an effort to slide her shorts and underwear down. She became somewhat self conscious when they managed to tear the rest of her clothing off, her legs closing tightly. Tapping a finger on her knee, San pulled off her nipple to say:

"Spread your legs for us and let us see that soaking cunt of yours."

Wooyoung was just as shocked as she was at his informal and vulgar words, but it certainly served to arouse her even more. Getting talked down to by someone younger than her..... it was definitely something. Giving him what he, and probably also his friend, wanted, she opened up her legs. Putting aside her gorgeous breasts for the meantime, the 2 pairs of eyes peered down at the sight below them, their Noona's folds glistening just for them and because of them, her tiny bud aching to be touched by their fingers. Signaling to his friend, San dipped his fingers down, swirling them around her clit before pressing down on it.

"Oh she's needy Wooyoung, I can feel it throbbing against my finger." San smirked as he lightly rubbed against her clit.

"Is our pretty Noona in need of our fingers? Does she want to get stuffed with them?" Wooyoung muttered against her ear, lips quick to muffle the moan that responded to his question. It was a sweet and tender kiss that was interrupted by San who tilted her chin towards him so that he could kiss her as well.

"Don't worry Noona. We'll make sure you're full and satisfied."

Y/N gasped as she felt both of their fingers slowly insert themselves into her slick and wet walls. Nudging to each other, their fingers started moving to and fro, eyes watching closely each facial expression that took over her features, reveling in the blissful sighs that were spilling out of her lips. Y/N couldn't keep herself from clenching tightly around their fingers, mesmerized by the sight of both of them fingering her tight little hole.

"Are you enjoying this Noona? Like having your tight pussy fucked by Sannie's finger and mine?" Wooyoung giggled, pushing his finger deeper into her, knuckles pressing against her mound which had her shuddering.

"Yes she is Wooyoungie, look at how much tighter she's becoming."

With a mischievous twinkle in his eye, he looked at Wooyoung.

"Maybe we should stretch her out even further. Don't you think?" He suggested, to which Wooyoung agreed to with a grin.

With a sharp inhale, Y/N released a whimper when 2 extra fingers intruded into her intimate region, stretching her further. The pace with which they were thrusting their fingers into her increased, each of the boys jamming their fingers at different timings, making sure that their tips touched the hood of her sex, grazing that sweet spot of hers. Y/N was a whining and moaning mess. The boys were not giving her any chance to relax, when one set of fingers was pulling out of her, the other set was pushing back in, continuing its abuse on her g-spot. She felt her thighs starting to trembling, her lower stomach building up her climax by the second. Even with the 4 fingers parting her wide open, she was starting to squeeze around them, wrapping them up in a blanket of heat that would soon coat them with her release.

"Are you gonna cum Noona? Cum on Sannie's and my fingers?" Wooyoung cooed as he drove his fingers faster into her to help her reach her orgasm faster.

Y/N could only manage to nod slightly, eyes shutting tight, unable to register anything else save for the slippery and squealching sounds that came from between her thighs. She didn't feel San press his lips against her ear until his low voice spoke in that sexy satoori accent of his.

"Cum for us Noona. Cum all over us."

With his encouragement, she tipped over the edge, crying out loudly as her release started streaming down her body and onto their hands, dripping even down to their wrists. The boys were kind enough to continue filling her hole with their fingers, helping her ride out her orgasm until she came down from her high.

"Shit. Look at all the mess you made on us. Such a dirty dirty Noona." San taunted as he forced her to look down at their cum covered hands, which they both brought up to lick clean right in front of her.

"And you taste so delicious." Wooyoung added with star struck eyes.

Cupping both of their chins, she placed a peck on each of their lips.

"Thank you for that my darling boys, you made Noona feel amazing. It's only right Noona makes you both feel just as good."

Not forgetting about the throbbing needs in their pants, she ordered them to strip in front of her, an order they were eager to comply with. Through clumsy fumbling, a pile of clothes was added to the previously discarded garments from the woman in front of them. Y/N couldn't hide the satisfaction on her face as she gazed at their erect cocks, standing proudly, waiting to be touched and played with.

"Well I suspected my boys were big, but even the reality is nothing like what I imagined." The men flushed at her words, flattered by the knowledge that she had indeed thought about them in that way before.

"Wooyoungie, lie down right here." She patted the space next to her.

Following her instructions, Wooyoung placed himself where she wanted him, displaying himself out to her. Hovering above him, Y/N kissed along his defined abs, getting dangerously close to the tip of his cock, exciting him while the member behind them envied their close proximity. Y/N pulled her face away right before her lips could touch his head.

"As much as I'd love to suck your pretty little cock, I think there's something you'll enjoy even more babyboy."

The pet name followed by the image of her breasts enveloping his shaft between them was enough to drive Wooyoung wild as he realized what she had in mind.

"Oh fuck Noona- yes please." He was anxious about having her warm tits hug around his length and fuck him until they were coated in his cum.

"I knew you'd love the idea."

Glancing back at the neglected male, Y/N motioned for him to come over.

"And I have an idea for you too my precious Sannie. Since you seem to like my ass so much, how about you stuff that cock of yours in my cheeks and fuck yourself on them?"

San's eyes bulged out, his dick twitching when he heard those words. It was such an erotic, kinky and naughty idea and he was all up for it.

"Shit- fuck yeah." He wasted no time as he straddled Y/N's behind, slapping his cock on each of her asscheeks before prying them apart and laying his shaft in between them.

"Fuck yourself as you want Sannie and try to keep up with Wooyoung and I." She challenged him, which he was more than willing to take up.

Spitting down on Wooyoung's cock and her tits to properly lubricate them, she sandwiched his shaft in her pillowy and soft flesh before rubbing her tits up and down on him. Wooyoung was releasing gasp after gasp the more he felt and saw his member disappear and reappear from his Noona's glorious valley. Meanwhile behind her, San busied himself as he started rutting his cock against the firm but tender skin of her ass, groaning and grunting as he took advantage of the green light she gave him to go as hard as he wanted. Each time he slammed his hips up into her, he basked in the visual of her plump ass cheeks rippling with each of his thrusts.

"Oh God." San exclaimed, one hand coming down to strike one of Y/N's cheeks, causing her to jolt forward in surprise, her stiff nipples rubbing against Wooyoung's shaft.

"Shit! San- be gentle with Noona." He whined, his eyes still focused on the silky sensation of Y/N's boobs hugging him.

"It's ok Wooyoung. I know Noona liked it. She likes it rough. Watch."

Raising his hand once more, it came back down to spank the same spot he had previously hit, a light pink hue starting to appear on her skin. Y/N tried and failed to contain a whimpered moan from her lips, spit dripping out and falling on Wooyoung's tip.

"Shit Noona, are you really into freaky shit?" He asked in astonishment.

"She's literally letting two younger guys fuck her tits and ass, how much more reassurance do you need?" San pointed out as he squeezed at her ass, riding her backside with more intensity.

"She's just a dirty kinky whore, allowing us to use her body this way. And then she's gonna let us cover her in our cum cause she's that slutty."

Y/N groaned at his words, her tongue poking out to lick at Wooyoung's slit each time it peeked out through the valley of her enormous tits.

"Fuck to paint Noona's tits with my cum-" Wooyoung hissed, teeth tugging at his bottom lip.

"You wanna do that for me? Cum on my big boobs baby boy?" She chuckled when she felt Wooyoung's cock twitch against her skin.

He couldn't answer her as another one of San's slaps along with his frenzied grinding thrusted her forward, making her and the boy below her exclaim in surprise.

"You're not cumming without me. You better hold it." San warned through gritted teeth, nails digging into her flesh as he violently rammed his cock between her fleshy and plump folds.

Y/N looked down at poor Wooyoung's face, looking so distraught as he fought hard not to cum right then and there. Leaning down, Y/N gave his tip a few kitten licks before resuming to squish her breasts on his length.

"It's ok Wooyoungie. San forgets his not in charge here. I am. So cum for me baby boy. Cum all over your Noona's tits." She softly said to him.

With shuddering whines and whimpers, Wooyoung threw his head back, eyebrows furrowed as thick streams of cum erupt from his tip, his orgasmic bliss so overwhelming, lasting longer due to Y/N continuing to rapidly push up and down his cock, milking him out of the last drop of cum he had left in his body.

"That's it. That's my good little boy, keep cumming just like that." She praised him, watching with excitement as his seed plastered itself on the top of her cleavage, some of it even splashing onto her cheeks and chin.

"That's so fucking hot- Oh my God-"

After watching the scene play out in front of him, San felt a familiar tightness in his balls, his tip starting to swell up. Before he could even register it, he was already pumping his own cum all over Y/N's ass and lower back, sputtering out incoherent words as he did so. He ended up collapsing on the couch, energy completed drained after all that, same as his friend who was still laying still on the other side. Meanwhile Y/N grabbed the box of tissues that was on the coffee table and pulled a few of them out so she could clean herself and the boys up. Starting with Wooyoung, she wiped in between his thighs, picking up the remainder of whatever was left of his cum before turning to San and cleaning up his body as well. Once both of the boys were cleaned up, she grabbed a couple more tissues to use on herself. She was distracted when she heard both of them start giggling out of nowhere.

"What's so funny?" She asked them, looking at San and then at Wooyoung, both of them donning a suspicious smile.

"So Noona does like younger men..."

546 notes · View notes

silky-stories · 3 years

Note

Whitty having a nightmare about accidentally killing his s/o and reader comforting him with cuddles? 👀

Sure thing! Sorry for the wait by the way, the ask ended up glitching and disappeared for the longest time ^^;;

Hope this turned out alright!

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Too Dangerous {Whitty/Reader}

Genre: Angst, hurt/comfort, fluff

Words: 1788

Related Song: sagun - I’ll Keep You Safe (feat. Shiloh) https://youtu.be/7ly7Mhle-4M

Summary: Whitty is scared of losing control and hurting his partner, thankfully his partner is a magician and knows how to make all of his worries disappear.

Disclaimer/s: Death, blood, small description of dead body, a bit of swearing, crying and panic attacks

Notes: (Please read) The start is pretty graphic and may be hard to read for some people, so there’s a double line down further that you can scroll to if you want to skip that part. It gets happy though, don’t worry :)! Also Whitty’s dialogue is in orange, Y/n’s is in blue!

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Numb.

That’s how he always felt after this happened.

After he lost his cool.

After he lost himself.

After his body gave in and combusted into the hot red plumes of rage, engulfing and ripping his body apart in one swift action.

...

After he exploded.

It never took long for his body to piece itself back together, for his pieces to come back and connect and rejoin one another, allowing his mind and consciousness to slowly but surely become clearer.

It was like puzzle pieces, all eventually finding their place as the picture that was his senses to come together, becoming complete once more.

None of this was new to him, he had experienced it many times before.

Only... something was wrong this time.

His vision was still very blurry, but he could make out a few colours, red being the most prominent.

He had never felt especially impatient to regain his senses, but the further along his accelerated recovery was, the more his half healed subconscious screamed that something bad had happened.

It wasn’t until he regained his sense of smell back that he started panicking.

The thick smell of copper and rust that cut through the air quickly invaded his lungs, violating his airways with the essence of metal and death.

Maybe it was the familiarity that scared him the most but...

He knew the smell of blood all too well.

The red he saw was immediately more violent and harsh than it seemed to be before, he stumbled closer to the scene with eyes only partially focused.

His legs still lacked most of the feeling in them, but he managed.

He needed to see what it was, he needed to know who it was. The speed that his blood rushed through his body only sped up his recovery as the picture finally came together.

...

He couldn’t keep his footing as he finally made out what laid before him.

You.

Your bleeding, broken form laid still on the concrete.

He couldn’t move.

Couldn’t think.

Couldn’t breathe.

...

He was trying to breathe.

Why couldn’t he breathe?

...

Suddenly everything hurt. His head hurt. His eyes hurt. His hands hurt. His body screamed in agony and grief at the loss of one of the few people that cared. One of the few that loved him.

What could he do now though?

You were dead.

He had killed you.

It was his fault.

It was all his fault.

It was-

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Whitty’s eyes snapped open as he hastily sucked in a gasp of air.

He laid there, motionless, greedily filling his lungs with the oxygen that his unconscious mind believed so strongly that he had been deprived of.

He could hear how shaky his breaths were despite the numbness, he was practically hyperventilating as he gave the ceiling a wide-eyed stare.

His form felt frozen in place as images from his dream flashed in front of his open eyes like a movie.

His stillness was disturbed only when you shifted beside him, he flinched, quite violently actually, as your head bumped into his arm.

The groan and words that came from you were his first indication that he shouldn’t have done that.

You were up.

Shit.

“Whitty..? Are you... mmph, are you alright?” You yawned as you propped yourself up in bed beside him, taking a moment to rub the sleep out of your eyes so you could look at him.

When you opened your eyes you saw that he had flinched back from laying down into a sitting up position. He was staring down at you, being the skyscraper that he was. Although there was only one thing that stood out to you, sobering you up from your sleep-drunk state.

“Y... y-yeah sorry I uh... didn’t mean to wake you u-”

“Wait, why are you crying?”

He paused, only now noticing the dark and warm trails that trickled down his face. He was quick to look away to try to wipe them out of existence, the concern on your face had only deepened when he looked back.

“It’s really nothing you... you don’t... don’t have to worry... about me... s-sorry I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

He was a mess and couldn’t piece together a sentence to save his life at the moment but he hoped it would be at least slightly convincing.

He really shouldn’t have thought that.

You very clearly weren’t convinced as you gingerly took hold of his upper arms and guided him to you, leaning back and wrapping his arms around your body as you followed suit with your arms around him.

He wanted to protest, he wanted to further reassure you that he was fine and let you go back to sleep so you didn’t have to deal with his emotional baggage at three in the morning. When he looked up at your patient but distressed expression though, made contact with those eyes that told him that he wouldn’t be judged for whatever it was that had upset him... he just couldn’t hold it in.

It started with tears silently starting to flow again as he pressed his face into your abdomen to hide them, his body starting to tremble in your embrace. It didn’t take very long for him to break into choked sobs, gripping at the t-shirt you had worn to bed like it was his last lifeline.

“Oh Whitty... I’m here, everything’s alright...”

You had no idea what it was that had upset him yet, but the need to console him was intense and immediate. Your hands moved to the positions that had worked before, one on the back of his head and one on his back. Small circular motions were what you started with on his back, gently caressing his head with your other hand as you allowed him the time he needed to vent out his emotions.

This went on for around ten minutes. You didn’t really care, you weren’t watching the clock.

He had stopped crying within the first five, but it took another five minutes to regulate his breathing. Now he was breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth, the way you had showed him to before when he needed help to calm down.

You continued to console him through actions, waiting to see if he would initiate the conversation you knew he was ready for now.

He turned his head to the side while still keeping his grip on your torso, he looked exhausted.

“...Y/n?”

You were glad you waited.

“Yes?”

“Do you ever think that I’m...”

You didn’t try to push him to finish his sentence, you knew he just needed a moment to get his words straight.

“...too dangerous to be around?”

You didn’t want to ask, you really didn’t, but you needed the context if you wanted to help him feel better.

“In what way?”

His expression soured as he glared at nothing from across the room.

“There’s a reason why there’s people after me, Y/n...”

Oh.

He meant himself being who he was that dangerous.

Well that just wouldn’t do.

“Oh Whitty, why would I think that?”

“Because I fucking am!”

His sudden outburst didn’t frighten you, you had gotten used to them a long time ago.

“I’m unpredictable and can’t control myself sometimes! What will happen if you’re around me when I lose control? Human bodies can’t piece themselves back together Y/n!”

You kept silent as you took in everything he said, committing it all to memory since you knew that these were valid concerns and he needed to lay them all out if he wanted to address them.

“I love you... so damn much... but I’d rather be on the other side of the world if I knew that it would protect you from me!”

He moved to look up at you, the fear in his eyes was heartbreaking.

“I couldn’t... I couldn’t live with myself if I knew that it was me that... that killed you...”

There it was, the heavy statement that served as a queue for you to speak, you could see the anticipation in his eyes. It was peculiar actually, the look he held, it was like he was expecting you to agree with everything he just said and run or something...

You tightened your embrace around him to stamp that thought out of existence.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit, you know?”

“I... huh?”

“I’ve seen the amount of times that you’ve been close to losing it, I know how hard it can be to stay in control.”

He couldn’t hold contact with your eyes, the amount of pure love and care for him was overwhelming after all the fear and desperation that he had just given in return.

“But I’ve also seen how much better you’ve gotten at keeping control.”

That was a surprise to him, but you knew that he would know what you were talking about if you gave some examples.

“Remember the guy in the grocery store? You looked like you wanted to rip his head off, and I didn’t blame you.”

You chuckled at the memory of the guy that decided to try to argue why the two of you shouldn’t be together since you were human and he wasn’t. The man was frustrating and made no sense at all, but Whitty’s fuse didn’t even spark, he didn’t lose himself to anger. He gave the guy the sharpest glare he’s ever done, told him to ind his own damn business, and then lightly took your hand and continued on.

His show of restraint was impressive to say the very least.

“You’ve been getting really good with controlling yourself, and we’re still working on it too. I’m not scared of you and definitely don’t plan on going to the other side of the world.”

Your grin was infectious, he hated and loved how infectious your grin was as he tried to stifle the small smile working it’s way up onto his face.

“I’m so proud of how hard you’ve been trying to keep control of yourself, and I’ll be here with you every step of the way.”

He... he let himself smile after that.

“I don’t deserve you...”

“And you’re clearly overtired since you’re just saying nonsense now.”

He chuckled, it was hoarse and faint but it was a wonderful sound.

“Really though, let’s try and get you back to sleep, okay?”

He pushed himself up further on the bed and carefully intertwined his body with yours, breathing out a sigh as he buried his face in your hair.

“I love you...”

“I love you too.”

#whitty x reader #fnf whitty x reader #whitty #fnf whitty #whitmore #angst #fluff #hurt/comfort #x reader #self insert #oneshot #request #i wonder what literally blowing up feels like though #i mean i’m not gonna TEST IT but y’know

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nurse-buckley · 3 years

Text

Here For You

Fandom: 9-1-1 Word Count: 853 Pairing: TK x Reader (friendship) Warnings: Mentions of death, minor panic attack, guilt Prompt: TK Strand x Friend!Reader with a few prompts from a few different prompts lists, requested by the lovely @theloneleysunflowersblog Tagslist: @firemedicdiaz, @fireladybuckley, @winterreader-nowwriter, @dayrin085, @mrspeacem1nusone Written for @thelonelysunflowersblog and beta’d by the amazing @myemergence

You couldn’t look away as Nancy covered the patients you’d been tirelessly working on for the last half an hour, pumping them with fluids and drugs after the firefighters of the 126 had pulled them from the fire. By the look of the victim when their limp body was placed on the gurney in front of you, you knew they weren’t going to make it, but you’d be damned if you didn’t at least try.

You ripped your gloves off, throwing them to the ground and walked away from the gurney. Your outburst didn’t escape the other members of the team as they watched your reaction to having lost the victim. Their expressions had changed from one of hope to one of sorrow, hoping against all hope that by some miracle they’d pull through.

You crouch to the ground, the energy having been sapped from your body, placing the heel of your palm against your eyes to try and stop the flow of tears you knew would eventually come. But not now, you won’t let them fall until you are alone.

Standing up, you look to the sky, the clouds dark and overcast, mixing with the plumes of smoke still coming off the building as the embers die down. You sniff, sucking in any remaining emotion you felt, before turning back to help Nancy tidy up and pack up the rig. She knows not to say anything, an unwritten rule between the pair of you.

As soon as the ambulance pulls into the station, you tear open the door, slamming it behind you as you make your way up the stairs and to the bathroom. You just make it into the stall before the overwhelming guilt and emotion take over you, causing you to collapse to the floor. You turn around, your back slamming against the cubicle door as you slide down until you hit the floor.

The rest of the 126 leave another crew to clean up. The death hit them all hard too, the usual jovial feeling in the back of the firetruck replaced with one of heavy sadness. No one speaks, they each just stare out of the window, or scroll through their phones, anything to keep their mind off the image that haunts each of them.

TK knew how hard the losses hit you. His first thought as his feet touched down back in the station was to find you. He knew all of your hiding spots, the places you liked to go to think, be alone or to cry. Heading to the bathroom, he knew you were there before he’d even rounded the corner, hearing the gentle sobs echoing off the bathroom walls.

“Y/N?”

You hear the firefighter’s soft voice cutting through the sobs wracking your body. With no response from you he tries your name once more.

“I’m not in the mood for a pep talk, TK,” you reply with a sniff.

He can hear your breathing growing more frantic as he steps closer to the cubicle door, tapping on it with his knuckles.

“Let me in, Y/N, or I’m climbing over.”

You shakily get to your feet, turning to slide the locking mechanism, opening the door. TK is met with you, wide eyed and red nosed, frantically trying to suck in a deep breath as tears keep streaming down your cheeks.

TK leads you out of the cubicle, and out of the toilets. He guides you out into the bunks, shooing off anyone who dared to come near, shaking his head as people made a move to intervene. You feel yourself being lowered onto your bed, TK kneeling in front of you as he gains your attention.

“Look at me. Breathe,” he takes a deep breath of his own, motioning for you to follow his lead.

It takes a few moments of you hiccuping, stuttering as your breath gets caught in your throat as the anxiety attack continues. You eventually feel relief as your body allows you to take one uninterrupted deep breath, followed by another.

TK stands from his position, moving to sit on the bed next to you.

“What did I do wrong?”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Y/N,” he reassures. “That victim, they were dead before we got them to you. No one could have survived those injuries.”

Logically you know that, your training and experience told you that as soon as they were placed before you. But you just thought, this one could be different. What if this one was different? You wanted to be able to tell the family their loved one would be okay, instead of seeing the heartbreak on their faces as you worked tirelessly to do something. Anything.

You reach out your hand to TK, wanting the human touch, the comfort he’d provide. “Can you hold my hand?”

He gives you a small, sad smile in, reaching out and taking your hand in his own. He gives it a gentle squeeze in return.

“I don’t want to be alone right now,” you admit, hating how weak you sound.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he replies.

#9-1-1 #9-1-1 lone star #lone star #126 #tk strand #tk strand x reader #mine #my writing

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rekrappeter · 4 years

Text

there’s so much you don’t know

pairing: fred weasley x fem!reader

summary: after the death eaters swarm bill & fleur’s wedding, fred can’t keep his feelings at bay in fear that something might happen

warnings: mention of war, mentions of torture, mentions of death, swearing, typos, small bit of angst, fluff

notes: please let me know what you think of this, feedback would be amazing thank you

The woman that stared back at you in the cracked mirror was someone you barely recognised in that moment. It was surreal that a purple dress hung loosely on your body, your hair pinned to how you wanted it, and the make-up that decorated your face was hiding the heavy bags and stressed acne that the past few months brought. Everyone thought it was deranged to have a wedding in the current times, when the wizarding world was falling apart, but everyone also knew they needed a distraction. People needed one night to themselves before everything went wild. ‘The calm before the storm,’ Arthur Weasley forced a smile during the conversation at dinner a week ago.

“The calm before the storm,” you whispered to yourself, trying to zip your dress up from behind with unnecessary struggle. You have been sharing a room with Hermione and Ginny for the past week, helping Molly prepare for the wedding and calming Fleur down in moments of madness. Walking over to the ajar door, you called out Hermione’s name and when there was a steady silence that followed, you tried Ginny’s. But no one answered your calls for help until a head popped out from the room just above you, looking over the ballister.

“Everything okay, love?” Out of everyone that was scattered around the house, of course it had to be Fred Weasley. It wasn’t that you disliked him or held any cynical feelings towards the older boy, it was the complete opposite in fact. When you met his younger brother, Ron, on the train during your first year at Hogwarts, you never expected to fall madly in love with his family member. It was hard not to fall for Fred when he introduced you, and at first you pushed it off as a crush but here you were, nearly seven years later, with a blush painting your cheeks and the nauseous butterflies swirling in your stomach.

“I’m okay, have you seen Hermione anywhere?” you called up to him, trying to calm your heart before it jumped out of your chest - that would be a gory sight that you weren’t ready for.

“I heard mum call them out help with the decorations,” Fred replied.

“Great, Ginny as well?”

“Yes, y/n,” An amused smirk tugged on his lips, watching your eyes dart between the stairs and his face. He found it entertaining that you couldn’t keep eye contact with him, after seven years of knowing each other he would have thought that you’d have warmed up to him by now. “Do you need my help?” Before you could make any noises of protest, Fred was already bouncing down the steps to your door.

You knew there was no use in objecting to his offer, you had to get your dress zipped up before going downstairs and if he was the only person available to help, you’d have to suck your feelings up and get on with it. You brushed your hair over your shoulder, exposing your bare back, and turned so that Fred would understand what you needed help with. Because your back was to him, you missed the way he gulped at the sight of you, a red tint painting his cheeks. You gasped as his fingers trailed over your back, and he muttered an apology about his cold flesh but it wasn’t that that made you lose complete control, it was the fireworks igniting in your stomach at him touching you. The dress slowly started to tighten around your body, hugging your curves nicely as he zipped it up agonisingly slow.

“Thank you, Fred,” you mumbled when he finished, taking one big step to create as much distance between your bodies as humanly possible.

A small smile rested on his lips, his eyes flickering over your figure, “You look beautiful, y/n.”

“Thank you,” you repeated, and you used this opportunity to take in his own appearance. He had his flaming red hair brushed back neatly, and the way the hair contrasted against his black suit made him look even more dashing than he usually did. “You look very handsome, Fred.”

Fred bowed playfully, making you roll your eyes and giggle, before accepting his outstretched arm and letting him walk you down the stairs to join the other. You caught the eye of Ginny who gave you a wide eyed look, sneaking a wink in your direction when Fred bid you a quick goodbye before dancing out to where George and his other brothers were getting ready to lift the marquee.

“What was that?” Ginny swayed to your side, she bumped your shoulder with her own.

“Nothing, he just helped me with my dress when you were no where to be found,” you snapped playfully, walking out to the garden and taking in a deep breath of the fresh air.

Ginny filled her mouth with a pig in blanket, wiping away the crumbs to hide the evidence. “Oh, I heard you, I just knew Fred would be there as well.”

“Ginny!” you gasped, the sudden outburst made George and Fred glance in your direction, but you didn’t notice, too focused on their little sister being a minx. “Will you ever stop playing cupid? It didn’t work last year, it won’t work this year.”

“You two are both just stupid, you’re in love with each other and won’t do anything about it.”

“She’s not wrong you know?” Harry chimed up, stepping out of the door behind you and you shot him a glare.

“What’s this? Gang up on y/n day?”

“That’s everyday,” Harry smiled, complimenting you before turning his attention to Ginny. You rolled your eyes at the pair, who were they to talk about being too oblivious to notice when someone was in love with you?

After a beautiful ceremony that announced Bill and Fleur newlyweds, the golden chairs that decorated the tent slowly started to disappear and the walls that kept all the guests inside opened up, highlighting the beautiful orange sky that was settling over the countryside. You excused yourself to go back inside the Burron, embarrassed of the tears that were streaming down your cheeks. Weddings always made you cry, it was a weakness that you never wanted people to know. The thought of two people expressing their love and promising to spend the rest of their lives together made you emotional.

When you returned, the party was in full swing. You scanned the crowd, seeing Ron and Hermione dancing together, well Hermione was the one dancing. You couldn’t make out what Ron was doing, it was a mix of a jig and a waltz, his arms swaying in the strangest of directions. You spotted the disguised Harry talking to Luna Lovegood, sending a small wave her way when she caught your eye. You tried to look busy, hoping she wouldn’t make her way over to you. When you spotted Fred, your heart leaped with an ache at the sight of him dancing with a distant cousin of Fleur’s. You tried not to focus on how beautiful she was, her long blonde hair swaying as Fred laughed and spun her around. You quickly grabbed a glass of Elderflower wine off the tray as the waiter passed you, downing it in one gulp.

“Slow down there, princess,” George smiled at you as he walked with you to an empty table, but before you could take a seat, he grabbed your hand and dragged you over to the dancefloor.

“George, you know I don’t dance,” you whined, pouting up at the taller boy.

“You can stand on my feet, I’ll do the moves,” You hated how you were so comfortable with George yet you could barely string a full sentence when Fred was around. You tried your best to follow George’s lead before you gave up and stood on his toes, his feet a lot bigger than yours.

You let him spin you around, laughing at his comments about the women’s hairpieces and how he wondered if he was at a wedding or a zoo. It was a lighthearted conversation, something that you needed to distract you from his twin dancing with an angel on the other side of the room. Everytime George spun, your eyes automatically found Fred’s figure, the curiosity getting the best of you. George stopped spinning you, his back to Fred as you found yourself looking over his shoulder at him.

“He’ll come to his senses soon,” your eyes flickered to George’s, feigning confusion but yu knew exactly what he was talking about. “He feels the same as you do, he’s just in denial.”

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” A bellowed laugh erupted from George’s lungs, his red hair bouncing as he shook his head in amusement. “Shut up, G,” you hissed, as curious eyes landed on the pair of you.

“You think I don’t know how you feel about my brother? It’s painfully obvious, love,” you groaned at his words, the dancing soon stopped.

“Then what’s wrong with me? Wh-Why doesn’t he like me?”

“Have you ever told him?” George questioned, the frown on your face giving him his answer, “And he does like you, it’s disgustingly cute. Trust me, the sooner you two get together the better. I can’t keep losing sleep because he can’t make up his mind on which way to tell you.”

“Really?” you piped up, any doubt you’ve been experiencing over the last twenty minutes completely vanished. George reassured you, about to make another comment when a bolt of blue flickering light ceased any further excitement. It took you a moment to notice the patronus in the centre of the dancefloor.

“The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming.”

In a heartbeat, chaos erupted around you. Guests were yelling for their partners, others disapparating as far away from the Burrow as possible, and your wide eyes glancing up at George as the Death Eaters stormed the marquee. You pushed through the crowd, your fingers intertwining with George’s as your eyes scanned the crowd trying to find the missing twin. Spells were being casted from every angle, members of the Order protecting guests but they were too strong. A hand grabbing your free arm made you jump in surprise, but relief washed over you when Fred’s eyes connected with yours. Immediately, you felt safe.

Hours had passed, each member of the Order getting interrogated by the Death Eaters that swarmed the reception. You had excused yourself from the worried eyes of the Weasley family, and the tears spilled from your eyes the moment you shut the door to the bedroom. You knew you were being watched so you tried to stay away from the window, sliding down the uneven wall and bringing your knees to your chest. Your heart was beating rapidly due to the fear washing over you.

The door to the bedroom creaked open, Fred popping his head in as he sent you a sad smile. “Are you hurt?” he asked, sitting down across from you. His long legs folded in front of you, the blood drizzling from a cut just above his eyebrow.

“M-my wrist is sore, it could have been worst…” you whispered, you were thankful that everyone was safe and no one was harmed as much as you would have expected from the Death Eaters. "How is everyone downstairs?"

Fred sighed, his head hanging, "Everyone is a bit shook up but at least we're alive."

An unexpected sob passed by your lips, your hands visibly shaking at his words. The thought of losing anyone in this house sent shivers down your spine, but you only just realised now that it is a possibility. Someone could have died tonight, someone could die tomorrow night. The war was happening and there was nothing you could do about it. "W-we're only kids," you sobbed, unconsciously falling into Fred's side as his arms immediately wrapped around you. He nuzzled his head into your hair, muttering words of reassurance as he let you cry on the floor. His fingers rubbed circles around your bare arms, the dress that was once so beautifully ironed creased and torn at the ends.

Silence stretched around the room, the sound of your sobs echoing off the four walls. Fred thought carefully about the words he spoke next, he was fearful that he had left it too late. But the possibility of not making it out alive settled within him tonight, the fear of taking his feelings for you to the grave overcame the fear of being rejected by you. "Y/n, I have to tell you something."

You leaned your body back from him, panic written across your features but the light smile on his face seized any worries. "What is it?" You whispered, moving to lean on your knees beside him. Your heart was pounding against your chest, you were praying and hoping that this was going in the direction you’ve dreamt about for years.

Fred heaved a heavy sigh, his head falling back to hit against the beige wallpaper with a bang but he didn't care. His eyes stared into yours, watching how your tongue danced across your bottom lip and how your eyes were flickering from his to his mouth. There were no words to explain how he truly felt about you. Instead of speaking, Fred jumped forward and connected his lips to yours within seconds. Your eyes were wide, his were too but when neither of you pulled away, your eyes fluttered closed and you relaxed into his body.

His arms lay limp at his side before you shuffled closer to him and he brought his hands to cup your face. You shifted to rest both of your knees on either side of his body, the kiss deepening and it was everything you dreamed of. You lost count of the amount of times that you’ve dreamt about this moment, the countless nights you’d stare at the ceiling hoping and wishing that this would happen. When the fight for air became too much, you pulled away from Fred. A twinkle appeared in his eyes, his lips twitching to a smile as he breathed out in disbelief.

“Why did it take you so long to do that?” you asked, your hand caressing over his face as you brushed away a couple of strands of his hair.

A pink blush settled over Fred’s cheeks, and he sighed placing his hands on your waist. “If anything happens to me, I just wanted you to know how I feel about you.”

The reality of what was happening slowly draped over your shoulders, your heart heavy knowing that blood will be lost during the upcoming war. The thought of losing Fred when you’ve only just got him made you want to never let go of him, the idea of running away and leaving flashed through your thoughts but you knew you couldn’t. Neither of you would abandon the people you loved. “We’ll get out of this alive, all of us.”

The look Fred gave you made your heart shatter into tiny unmendable pieces. You were living in a dream, and you knew it, but you wanted to hold onto hope until you took your last breaths whether they come in two months from now or twenty years. “Some of us have already died, there will be more to come.” It hurt Fred to speak the truth, the thought of losing you was something he wasn’t equipped to deal with just yet.

“Can we just have tonight then?” you whispered, looking longingly into his eyes as you brought your lips to his again. He nodded into the kiss, his hands trailing up and down your body as he brought you closer to him. He’d die happy if it was in this moment.

#fred weasley #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x reader #harry potter fandom #hp #harry potter #harry potter fanfic #weasley twins #weasley #fred #fred x reader #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley one shot #fred weasley x y/n

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iam93percentstardust · 3 years

Note

A very happy birthday month to you! I’m a fan of your Stony fics. If you’re still taking prompts, could you do one with a Las Vegas backdrop? Maybe Steve’s first time there with Tony for some reason? I was supposed to have my first trip there ever but Covid cancelled it. Maybe at least they can have a happy ending there. 🙂

Thank you! I’m glad you’re enjoying the Stony fics!

So sorry your Las Vegas trip was cancelled, that’s really awful. I sort of went to Vegas once (it was a layover in the airport). The only thing I remember about the whole thing was the 5 bajillion slot machines in the airport terminals

Since I know so little about Vegas, I ended up going with the getting married in Vegas trope instead of something about the casinos. I also hope you don’t mind that I used this for my bingo square, but I saw the happy ending part in your ask and got inspired for my happily ever after square (details below the cut)

Here’s to Las Vegas

The day after Steve gets married, he wakes up in a Las Vegas hotel with a ring on his finger and Tony Stark snuggled up beside him.

Most days, Steve wakes up the second his alarm goes off, alert and ready for his run. This day, however, he drifts into wakefulness slowly, comfortably lying on his back. He’s warm and there’s a heavy weight on his stomach and chest, pressing him down into sheets that feel so much nicer on his bare skin than the ones he has at home. That’s the second thing he notices: he’s not wearing any clothes, not even the boxer-briefs he normally wears in lieu of pajamas. And the third thing he notices is that there’s something soft tickling his chin.

He slowly blinks his eyes open. He’s somewhere with high vaulted ceilings and an expensive-looking chandelier, which means it’s not Tony’s place (he thinks chandeliers are tacky) and it’s definitely not Steve’s (he can’t afford a chandelier). Whatever it is on his chest shifts and Steve looks down. Tony is draped across him, the top of his head tucked under Steve’s chin, their arms and legs tangled together. He’s breathing deep and even, still asleep even though sunlight is pouring through the window.

Steve smiles at the sight and raises his head enough to kiss Tony’s curls. He doesn’t often get to wake up with Tony. Steve lives in Brooklyn and Tony lives in Manhattan and they’re both so busy—Tony with SI’s R&D and Steve with his teaching—that they decided early on in their relationship that spending every single night together was a bad idea because one of them would always end up late to work. So this makes for a nice change.

Tony stirs, inhaling deeply. Steve brings his hand up to stroke over Tony’s hair, the way he likes it when they both have a rare day when neither of them have to be anywhere so they can spend the night. That’s when he sees it.

The ring.

The one that’s sitting on the ring finger of his left hand, exactly where it should be—except he’s not supposed to be wearing it for another week.

In the sleepy haze of waking up, he’d forgotten what they’d done last night but the memories are filtering in. Flashes of Tony excitedly talking him into finding a chapel and wrangling a couple witnesses from off the street and filing the marriage license a whole week early because both of them were more than tired of the wedding planning, the swell of emotions he’d felt at hearing Tony declared his husband and sweeping Tony off his feet and back to their hotel, kissing the whole way and probably scandalizing their Uber driver.

He groans and tips his head back against the pillows. Tony makes a low sound and yawns widely before slowly opening his eyes. He looks a little like an adorable kitten and Steve can’t resist kissing the top of his head again.

“Wuzzgoinon?” Tony mumbles sleepily.

“What’s going on,” Steve says, “is that your mother is going to kill us. No, she’s going to kill me, because you’re her darling angel who can do no wrong and she’s never once thought I’m good enough for you.”

“No, you’re better,” Tony says around another yawn. “Why is my mama going to kill you?”

Steve picks up Tony’s left hand and waves it in front of his face. Tony goes cross-eyed trying to make out what’s different about his hand. “Oh,” he says eventually and lays his head back down on Steve’s chest.

“Oh?” Steve asks. “That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”

“If Mama didn’t want us to elope, she shouldn’t have sent us to Vegas by ourselves to pick up the rings,” Tony says, as though he’s pointing out something reasonable, even though this is the most absurd thing that’s ever happened in Steve’s entire life—and his best friends are Bucky and Sam. Those two are the very definition of absurd. “Everyone knows what happens in Vegas.”

“This is your fault,” Steve informs him. “If you hadn’t insisted on this particular jeweler—”

“Hmm maybe I was planning this,” Tony hums, closing his eyes again.

And that’s… that’s actually entirely possible. Ever since they got engaged, Tony has been complaining about the big white wedding Mrs. Stark wants them to have and threatening to steal Steve away to the courthouse to elope. Steve had thought he’d calmed down about the whole affair after Mrs. Stark’s tearful outburst about her just wanting her baby to have the perfect wedding (Tony is nothing if not his mama’s boy), but maybe he’d been planning on this instead. He had thought it odd when Tony had insisted on a small-name jeweler in Las Vegas who wouldn’t ship to New York, thereby forcing them to travel to pick up the rings, but if Tony had been planning this all along…

“Did you?” he asks before he can stop himself.

Tony stares up at him for a long moment, blinking. Then he dryly says, “Yes, Steve. I, who has never made a decision that wasn’t impulsive even once in my entire life, somehow managed to both plan out a trip to Vegas to get married and keep it a secret from the love of my life who knows everything I’m thinking before even I know it.”

“Well, when you put it like that,” Steve says, grinning at him. What they’ve just done hits him and he laughs giddily. He sits up, pulling Tony up with him to give him a closed-mouthed good morning kiss. “We’re married.”

Tony smiles happily and kisses him again. “Yeah, we are. Good morning, Mr. Stark-Rogers.”

He likes the sound of that. He really likes the sound of that. Another kiss. “What are we going to tell everyone?” he asks.

“Hmm. How about we got so caught up in the thrill of picking up the rings that we abandoned all reason and got married here? It’s not like the big white wedding my mama wants even really matters in the grand scheme of things. It’s the marriage license that counts.”

“She’s still going to want it.”

“Undoubtedly. And we’ll give it to her. But this is nice, isn’t it?” Tony peers up at him anxiously. “No fuss, no caterers with ten different meal plans for all the restrictions, no Great-Auntie Mildred who shouts for the minister to speak louder. No stress at all.”

Steve leans back against the headboard, thinking about it. Tony’s right. They dealt with a lot less stress by getting married this way. But it isn’t just Great-Auntie Mildred that they left behind, it’s their friends too. It’s hard to know how he feels about that.

But then he starts thinking about the wedding picture the photographer had handed them before they left the chapel last night. Steve had tucked it into his wallet for safekeeping, and he reaches over to the bedside table to grab it, pulling the photo out so he can look at it. It’s a picture of their kiss. They’re holding onto each other so tight he’s not sure a piece of paper would fit between them, smiling so broadly that it’s barely a kiss at all. And he thinks about the engagement pictures Mrs. Stark had sent out in the announcement and wedding invitations: poised and perfect and not a smile to be seen anywhere.

“Yeah,” he says eventually, pulling Tony against his chest. Tony snuggles in, warm and beautiful and all Steve’s. “This was pretty damn perfect.”

Tony sighs contentedly and presses a kiss right over Steve’s heart. “Good.”

“But your mother’s still going to kill me.”

“We just won’t tell her,” Tony replies dismissively. “We’ll get married again and we won’t have to worry about the wedding because we’ll know we’re already married.”

“She’s going to notice the rings.”

“Not if we spend the whole week here.”

Steve stills. He hadn’t thought of that. It would solve a lot of problems, not least that Mrs. Stark would finally have free reign to do whatever she wanted with the wedding without any input from either of them. She was doing anyway, but at least now, they don’t have to hear about how their small family affair has turned into the society event of the year.

Tony continues in a wheedling voice, “Call out all our friends, treat it like an extended bachelor party—or our first honeymoon, take your pick.”

Steve stops him right there with another kiss, lingering this time. “And what are we going to do on our first honeymoon?”

“Blow all our money on slot machines. Count cards at the poker table. Go see some really truly ridiculous shows,” Tony says with a shrug. “What everyone does when they’re in Vegas.”

“Hmm somehow I don’t think counting cards is what everyone does.”

“I suppose everyone didn’t grow up with Ana Jarvis,” Tony muses. Steve laughs because it’s true. Howard might think that Tony is a troublemaker all on his own, but everyone knows that Tony learned it from the best.

He’s distracted out of his thoughts by Tony picking up his hand and gently kissing his wedding ring. “It’s the first day of the rest of our lives, darling,” Tony murmurs. “We can do whatever we want.”

Details for @tonystarkbingo

Title of Fill: Here's to Las Vegas Collaborator: iam93percentstardust Card Number: 4012 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29676711 Square Filled: A3 - Free Square Ship/Main Pairing: Stevetony Rating: T Major Tags/Warnings/Triggers: Established Relationship, Fluff, Marriage Summary: The day after Steve gets married, he wakes up in a Las Vegas hotel with a ring on his finger and Tony Stark snuggled up beside him. Word Count: 1558

#alle writes #alle answers #stevetony #if you like please consider reblogging #mistyendings #tsbmiv

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littlemisspascal · 3 years

Text

The Last Mandalorian

Chapter One: The Warrior in Carbonite Part 3

Fandom: The Mandalorian / Pedro Pascal

Eventual Pairing: Din x Togruta!Female!Reader

Word Count: 4,320

Rating: G

Summary: A series that is a mixture of Mandalorian, Star Wars, ATLA, and my own imagination. The Imps have seized control of the majority of the galaxy, including your homeworld Shili. You and your sister Ahsoka have developed a daily routine despite the stormtroopers keeping your village imprisoned. One morning you make a startling discovery that will change the course of your lives forever.

Warnings: I don’t know much about starship mechanics so probably nothing in this is accurate but it’s fanfiction people so cut me some slack please, reader gets a nickname 🥳, plot plot plot, discussion of loss of loved ones, worldbuilding, dialogue heavy, this is a slow burn but it’s also ridiculously self-indulgent so I’m including as many cute getting-to-know-you scenes as I can, reader is 17 and Din is 19 so I’m going to warn this as underage even though nothing sexual or even vaguely romantic happens in this chapter.

Author Note: Thank you anyone and everyone who has read even a sentence of this story! Special thanks and love to @dindja for creating this stunning, fantastic, amazing piece of fanart for me 💖💖💖 I still can’t believe how perfect it is. I mean, I’m such a sucker for pinky promises it’s not even funny and this is just beautiful 😍😍😍

Part 2

Cross-posted on AO3

For as grand and wide-reaching as the Galactic Empire has become in its ten years of existence, it had relatively small beginnings. A group of radical Force-wielders banded together under the leadership of an old, beady-eyed man named Sheev Palpatine who believed it was his divine destiny to seize control of the entire galaxy, rewriting the ancient laws to match his own beliefs. His cult, the Sith Order, gained attention by attacking Jedi temples, capital cities, places with large populations until every corner of the galaxy had heard of them. Most regarded them with fear, but over time they began garnering a startling amount of followers who were discontent with the status quo and willingly drafted themselves as soldiers in Palpatine’s fight for control.

At first everyone in your village thought Palpatine and his cult of followers weren’t worth worrying about—after all, Shili was a peaceful planet that never drew much attention to itself. But within the first year of its inception, the Sith Order captured Ryloth and the similar peaceful characteristics between the Twi’lek planet and Shili were too glaring to overlook. A seed of anxiety took root in every Togruta’s mind after that, and continued to grow with every planet seized as the years progressed.

The Decimation of Alderaan didn’t start as a tragedy, believe it or not. The Mandalorians, Jedi, and Alderaanians combined their numbers in an all-out fight against the Sith Order. It was the largest battle ever fought in the history of the galaxy, thousands of souls willing to die to defeat Palpatine’s followers. For the first three days of warfare, the fight seemed to be in favor of the allies with many noteworthy Sith members reportedly killed in the fray, such as Palpatine’s second-in-command Dooku and lethal Zabrak assassin Maul. You remember there was a sense of hope felt within your village as everyone listened to the news reports blaring across the Holonet. A belief that things were finally, finally going to return to normal after so much chaos.

But on the fourth day, the Sith Order brought their own ally onto the battlefield.

At the time there wasn’t a name for the droids that slaughtered every opponent they faced. They were described as indestructible, unharmed by blasters and the intense heat of Mandalorian flamethrowers. Not even lightsabers could damage them. The allies didn’t stand a chance, brutally murdered one by one, their dying screams echoing across the Holonet, forever haunting listeners far and wide.

The Dark Troopers were unleashed upon Mandalore afterwards and out of the ashes rose the Galactic Empire, except, in a twist nobody—not even the Sith Order—saw coming: Palpatine died before taking on the title of emperor, passing away in his sleep. A mediocre ending for the monster who permanently altered the foundations of the universe. One of his loyal followers from the cult’s early beginnings took control in his place, a vile man with a penchant for spilling blood and a deceptively bland name: Gideon.

Only seven years-old then, you didn’t understand the unbalance in the Force your aunt kept referencing. You didn’t understand the meaning of the word genocide either. But you did understand the galaxy would never be the same ever again, and the lesson was only further established as truth when the Imperials seized your village.

There is no normalcy to return to anymore.

And as long as Emperor Gideon remains in control, there is no future to hope for either.

Silence reigns in the aftermath of Maar’s explanation as the long list of tragedies hangs heavy over the four occupants. There is tension in the air as you await the Mandalorian’s response to the extinction of his people, whether that be an outburst of anger or tears, and each passing minute only intensifies the nervous energy thrumming through your veins. Your leg starts to bounce restlessly, a bad habit you have had since childhood.

The Mandalorian stands eerily motionless. Your eyes keep flicking from your lap to his visor though you know it is rude to stare. His helmet hides his expression, but you don’t need to see it to know he is floundering right now, mind scrambling to piece together all the details thrown at him. From personal experience, you know the loss of a loved one hits like a tidal wave, hitting you over and over again until you must decide if you are going to stand up or surrender to drowning. Grieving the loss of your parents is the hardest experience of your lifetime to date.

But this...this is vastly different. The Mandalorian didn’t just lose his loved ones. He has lost his friends, neighbors, comrades, acquaintances, everyone all at once. This loss isn’t a tidal wave. It is a kriffing avalanche, burying him ten feet under in total darkness, and there is no one he can count on to save him.

Finally, after the longest five minutes of your life, he shifts, resting his hands upon his belt with an unexpected air of seriousness. “I need to go.”

You frown, head tilting. That is his reaction?

“Go?” Ahsoka echoes, sounding as incredulous as you feel. “Go where?”

“To look for survivors,” he answers, blunt and harsh, the words forced through clenched teeth.

Ahsoka is struck silent, and you feel your heart break on his behalf. Your mother’s stories about the Mandalorians had always included, one way or another, their lifelong bonds with each other. You had felt those ties when you had connected with the Mandalorian, believed for a moment as strongly as he did that his fellow warriors would come search for him, that his absence would be noticed and missed amongst them. And here he is now, still desperately clutching to them, unable—or, perhaps unwilling is more apt—to believe a stranger telling him those bonds have been cruelly severed.

“What you need is to rest,” Maar says, gentle yet firm, letting her authority as the eldest in the room seep into her tone.

He shakes his head, not backing down. “I’ve been asleep for ten years. I don’t need any more rest.”

“Your ship, it, uh,” your shoulders hike up defensively when his visor snaps in your direction, pinning you with its blank stare. Clearing your throat, you continue with a slight grimace, “It’s going to need some repairs before it can take off. I can help you fix it.”

Ahsoka looks over at you in surprise, and then in worry. You don’t blame her, especially since the offer had slipped out without you consciously meaning it to. Once again, the Force is calling the shots and you are just along for the ride, a passenger in your own body.

He considers you for a long moment, then asks, “What do you know about the mechanics of a gunship?”

If anyone else had asked you that same exact question, you would have bristled at their condescension and retracted your offer in the next breath. But with the Mandalorian, there isn’t even the slightest hint of patronizing courtesy. It is a serious question prompted from genuine curiosity.

You sit up straighter, smiling at him now. “Enough to confidently say I’m your best shot at getting off the ground.”

“What’s your plan, exactly?” Ahsoka asks you, braced against the wall with one eye on you and one on the Mandalorian across the garage, patiently waiting for you to finish assembling your tool kit.

“Huh?” You reply distractedly, trying to decide if you should bring your carbon chisel or not.

“You don’t have one, do you?”

Not. There are bigger concerns than a bit of carbon scoring. You move to grab your favorite screwdriver with a tapered socket, only for Ahsoka to snatch it away, holding the tool hostage.

“Hey!”

“Have you thought about what you’re doing?” Ahsoka asks slowly, staring you directly in the eyes. “Once you fix his ship, he’s gone. And he’s taking our best chance at escaping Shili with him.”

A quick glance over your shoulder shows the Mandalorian studying the scattered BB unit parts on your workbench. You are missing a few vital components needed in order to bring the little droid back to life after a stormtrooper shot a plasma bolt through it for accidentally bumping into his leg, and haven’t had any luck convincing the village traders to track them down for you when they went to the capital.

“We can’t keep him here against his will,” you manage at last, turning back to your sister. “Otherwise we’re no better than the Imps.”

When Ahsoka doesn’t say anything, you shrug a shoulder, adding, “Besides, I think I’m supposed to fix it for him. The Force seems pretty insistent about it.”

She makes a face at that. “I liked you better when you ignored your Force instincts. You didn’t make me worry as much.”

A laugh escapes you, embarrassingly loud in the otherwise quiet space, and your cheeks immediately start burning. Ahsoka’s lip twitches like she wants to smile, but instead she schools her features into a blank expression when the Mandalorian’s head turns at the sound. Only once he diverts his attention elsewhere again does her stare lose some of its intensity, looking less like she wants to dissect him beneath a microscope. You can practically see her protective-older-sister-instincts buzzing, reacting to the warrior’s presence.

As much as he is a chance at providing an escape, he is also first and foremost a complete and total stranger. Even worse, he is a complete and total stranger who knows how to handle weapons.

“I’ll be fine, I promise.” You squeeze her arm reassuringly. “Shouldn’t take longer than a couple of hours. You’ll be so busy smoothing the Elders’ ruffled feathers you won’t even notice I’m gone.”

Ahsoka finally relinquishes the tool, exhaling a quiet sigh. “You shouldn’t make promises you don’t know for certain you can keep.”

Walking side by side with the Mandalorian in silence isn’t awkward, per se, but it definitely isn’t comfortable either. He is close enough your arm keeps accidentally grazing against his, the cold brush of metal against your skin startling you each time. You would have considered his nearness strange if you hadn’t heard Ahsoka threaten to castrate him if you wound up hurt before she sent him flying at the juni tree branch outside your window with an unnecessarily strong push of Force.

To his credit, the warrior handled her rough treatment with the same ease he has handled everything else thrown at him. You are beginning to think Mandalorians don’t just wear beskar—they are made of it too. Other than the few glimpses of frustration earlier in Maar’s office, he keeps his cards close to his chest, impossible to read.

He watches everything though, reacting to the slightest of movements and sounds. Constantly alert. You are certain he is watching you right now, despite the fact his helmet is facing forward, your nerves prickling in response to the sensation of eyes upon you.

To your surprise, he is the one to break the silence first. “You sneak out often.”

It is a statement, not a question.

You suppose the dots are easy enough to connect to reach that conclusion. Still, the certainty in his voice has your heart skipping a nervous beat. He hasn’t even known you a day and yet he is privy to secrets no one outside your community is aware of. “Yeah,” you nod your head after a brief lapse of silence, “Ahsoka can’t train in the village. Not with the stormtroopers around.”

“Has your village tried to run them out? Fight back?”

It is only because you know he is just trying to understand your village’s predicament with the little bits of information he has that you don’t snap at him for being so insensitive. He has no idea what these past five years have been like for you all. No idea the amount of losses and sacrifices the community has suffered.

Your grip on your tool kit tightens. “I was twelve when they came. The community is mostly traders and hunters, not trained fighters. The few weapons we had were nothing compared to their blaster rifles, but some of the adults tried to defend the village, including our parents. They...” You swallow, or try to, at least, your throat suddenly dry as sand. “Our aunt looked after us until last year we woke up one morning to find a note she’d left to join the rebellion. We haven’t had any contact with her since.”

The Mandalorian’s gloved hand brushes against your knuckles. This time you think it might have been on purpose.

“I lost my parents as a child, too. There was a riot and they died protecting me,” he offers his own private details with the same reluctance as one volunteering to have their teeth pulled out. “The Mandalorians took me in, raised me as one of their own.”

You say nothing about the way his breath slightly hitches when he says Mandalorians, appreciating his openness as it puts you both on somewhat equal footing with each other.

“I owe it to them to look for survivors,” he tells you, and your montrals detect the quietest hint of a plea in his voice.

“I understand,” you answer, keeping your tone light to preserve the fragility of this moment. This kind of situation doesn’t happen often—two strangers on the same wavelength, exposing their vulnerable underbellies, desperate to be heard and yet skittish at the same time—and it is oddly therapeutic.

A decision is made right then and there in the span of a heartbeat. And even more significantly, it is 100% your own choice without any intervention or manipulation from the Force.

You stop walking, causing the Mandalorian to halt as well. He scans the area for a threat, then visibly jerks when he turns back to find you have your hand held out towards him, pinky raised high, reacting as if you are pointing a weapon at him.

“I don’t understand,” he says, blunt and almost suspicious sounding. Are you just imagining it or can you actually hear him frowning? “What are you doing?”

“Haven’t you ever made a pinky promise with someone before?”

“...A what?”

You snort, ducking your head to hide your smile, and then reach for his hand. Surprisingly, he doesn’t protest your touch.

“A pinky promise,” you repeat as you make his hand form a fist, curling his fingers towards his palm, and then adjust his pinky so you can wrap yours around it. He watches the whole process wordlessly. “It’s a sacred vow shared between two people. The Elders say once it’s sworn, the promise can never be broken.”

He cocks his head, skeptical. “Never?”

“Never,” you reaffirm with a nod. Licking your lips, you look at his visor, right where you instinctively know his eyes are staring back. “I promise I’m going to help you. No matter the odds.”

And something leaks into your voice then, something resolute and binding and otherworldly. A tremor shoots down your spine, too quick for you to make sense of it.

Your sister’s words echo in the back of your mind, ‘You shouldn’t make promises you don’t know for certain you can keep.’

You try to pull away, self-doubt gnawing a hole in your stomach, only for the Mandalorian to wrap his pinky tighter around yours, holding you still. A gasp escapes your lips, muffled by the bleeding sincerity in his voice as he swears:

“I promise I will be there when you need me. No matter the odds.”

And although your sister could undoubtedly provide you with a long list of reasons why you shouldn’t, you believe his promise to be true.

The Mandalorian heaves a heavy sigh at the sight of his crashed ship.

“I can’t do much about the landing gear,” you inform him, believing honesty to be the best policy for cases like this. “And I brought some foam-jet for the cockpit viewport, but it’s not a permanent fix. You’re going to have to find someone offworld to replace them.”

“Right,” he agrees absently without turning his eyes away. It occurs to you then that this ship is the closest thing to a home he has now. One of the few precious relics from his past he can still physically cling to.

“Does your ship have a name?” you ask.

He looks at you, as if coming back to self-awareness, and answers, “Razor Crest.”

A good name, you think. Strong. A bit mysterious. Just like its owner.

You nod decisively. “I like it.”

His modulator crackles faintly, a quiet noise produced from a sudden exhale of air. You blink at the unexpected sound, surprised to realize you recognize it. A laugh. The Mandalorian just laughed at something you said. What is next in store for you? Are akul going to sprout wings and start flying?

He steps around you, heading for the side entry door still open from yesterday with its ramp laying on the ground, pebbles shifting noisily beneath his boots with each step. You don’t realize you are staring, oddly entranced by the swish of his cape and his purposeful strides, until he calls out your name to ask if you are coming.

You nearly drop your tool kit in your haste to follow after him into the Crest’s interior, ignoring the flaring heat radiating from your cheeks.

For the next few hours, you and the Mandalorian work in companionable silence, engrossed in rerouting wires and welding damaged components with your trusty hand torch. The gunship is older than you initially assumed, perhaps even as old as yourself, and you idly wonder if the Mandalorian found it in a scrapyard somewhere or maybe inherited it from another Mandalorian. You notice the way he handles each piece with an experienced and respectful touch; the same kind of care someone reserves for their most cherished possessions. Anyone with eyes can see how much he loves the Crest just by watching him.

Once you have finished sealing the numerous cracks dissecting the cockpit’s viewport like a spiderweb with foam, you approach the Mandalorian to see his progress on returning power to the dashboard. He is on his back beneath the steering controls, rearranging a mess of wires, and barely acknowledges your presence when you squeeze yourself into the tight space next to him.

“The red wire goes before the white one,” you point out, noticing the mistake immediately. “Fire hazard.”

He pauses, looks at where you have gestured, and corrects his error without criticizing your intervention. You bite back a smile, pleased to be heard. Within your community, even though you have proven your skills time and time again, some of the villagers, usually men, don’t always adhere to your advice, thinking you are too young and too female to know about technology, until they inevitably make their problems worse for themselves and come back to you with their metaphorical tail between their legs.

You help him reattach the cover plating once he has finished, screwing the bolts back into their corners, and then watch, fingers crossed, as he attempts the ignition sequence, flipping a series of switches.

None of them light up with even the faintest flicker of life.

“Dank farrik,” he growls under his breath, slamming a fist upon the console.

You take a tiny step forward, hesitant to direct his frustration your way. “Can I try?”

He tilts his head, probably thinking he knows this ship better than anyone and if it doesn’t work for him then you aren’t going to have any luck either.

Eventually he steps back with a shrug, uttering a simple, “Sure.”

Although you can’t remember the last time you were on a ship, it doesn’t take long to refamiliarize yourself with the various controls and screens once you take a seat in the pilot chair. When your hobby for fixing broken machines changed into a passion you wanted to pursue as a future career, you started memorizing any reading material you could find on the Holonet, including the flight manuals for different classes of starships. You flip through the stored information in your mind about gunships as you press a few buttons on the panel overhead, trying out different sequences for a response.

When your third attempt fails, you bite your lip, racking your brain for a solution. You think about Huno’s kitchen droid and how you had been on the verge of ripping off one of your head-tails trying to repair it after one of its fuses blew, causing it to malfunction. Your tools and knowledge hadn’t been able to fix it in the end. It had required a special remedy to bring it back to life.

You lay your palms flat on the console, just as you had held onto the droid’s square torso. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice the Mandalorian fidget, as if he wants to come closer but is hesitant to crowd you. You ignore him, pressing your fingertips harder against the metal, visualizing in your mind the unseen gears, cables, and components stiff and powerless. You imagine the parts working properly, a current of electricity running through each wire, life ultimately returning to the entire ship, and whisper under your breath a request to the Force.

“Please work, please work, please work…”

An invisible pulse of energy burns down the length of your arms and discharges through your fingertips, strong enough you jerk backwards against the seat. Every button and screen on the dashboard lights up all at once, beeping with alarm at being so rudely resurrected.

You sit there helplessly, stunned and breathless, hands twitching in your lap. The kitchen droid hadn’t required even half as much energy to restart, barely a pinch. Now your body feels like you have been thrown against the electric fence a dozen times. Wordlessly, the Mandalorian comes to your side to help, punching buttons and turning knobs until the alarms quit blaring. A distant part of your brain thinks the Razor Crest as a whole seems strangely soothed by his presence, not quite as cold and dark, but it is hard to follow that train of thought due to the distracting pain throbbing along your temples.

“That’s quite a spark you’ve got,” he says, not unkindly or accusingly, just a statement of the obvious. He looks down at you, not outright asking for an explanation, but giving you the opportunity to open up if you wanted to.

“Yep, that’s me,” you reply, forcing a cheerful smile, praying it doesn’t resemble a grimace. “Sparks Tano at your service.”

He chuckles again, oblivious to how your heart stutters at its raspiness. “Thank you, Sparks. I appreciate it.”

“Well, we’re not done yet.” You rub at your temples under the guise of adjusting your headband. “I need to take a closer look at the engines before we attempt flying out of here. I—”

“I’ll do it,” he cuts in, already heading for the ladder. “You stay here, see if you can update the navicomputer settings.”

You know he knows that updating the navicomputer is child’s play for you. Clearly you aren’t as great at concealing your pain as you thought you were and this is his way of giving you a break. A small part of you is irritated at being treated like a porcelain doll, but you push those negative feelings aside as quickly as they develop. Your aunt always used to remind you and Ahsoka it was okay to accept help when it was offered, that needing support didn’t in any way make you weak.

“Hey, wait a second,” you call out as you spin around in your seat, freezing him right before he disappears from view into the hull. He holds onto the ladder, waiting patiently for you to continue.

“Back at Maar’s place you didn’t introduce yourself and it’s weird just calling you Mandalorian in my head,” you say, awkwardly drumming your fingers on top of the armrests. He doesn’t answer, eliciting a sigh from your mouth after a drawn-out beat of silence. “What’s your name? You do have one, right?”

“I do, but I can’t tell you it,” he admits at last. “By Mandalorian Creed, only other Mandalorians or my riduur—my spouse,” he corrects, seeing your confusion, “are allowed to know my name and see my face. This is the Way.”

He doesn’t linger to hear your response, dropping down into the hull with a resounding thud. You slowly turn back around, staring absently out the glass. Every culture is unique, including your own, but you think there is something especially interesting about the Mandalorians’. It sounds like a lonely existence, only able to show your face while in select company. What would have happened if he had been unconscious and you had slipped the helmet off his head? What consequence would he have faced?

And if there truly aren’t any Mandalorians left besides him, his spouse will be the only one to ever know him completely. It almost sounds like a love story, if not a little bit heart-wrenching.

Two high-pitched dings from the console jerk you out of your thoughts with a wince. You look for the source, finding the radar lit up and actively scanning the area, and bristle when you see a pair of red dots moving across the screen.

Not even a minute later you are sprinting out of the cave, ignoring the Mandalorian’s alarmed shout from the roof of the Razor Crest. They’re early, you think with panic, looking towards the sky where two starships with Imperial logos are heading straight for your village. Why have they come back so soon?

You push your legs to run faster, your surroundings a blur beyond the trail in front of you, but the effort is meaningless. You won’t make it back home before they land.

And when your absence is noted, bloodshed is not a possibility.

It is a guarantee.

Series taglist: @pedro4ever @cannedsoupsucks

Din Djarin Taglist: @a-skov @pedrosbisch @quica-quica-quica @stevie75 @iamskyereads @banga-sama @dincrypt @ohlawdthebirds

Permanent taglist: @promiscuoussatan @vintagesaph @over300books @chibi-yuki @theocatkov @oh-no-a-whovian @absurdthirst @freeshavocadoooo @you-and-i-deserve-the-world @lin-djarin @happiestsparkleofall @randomness501 @gallowsjoker @coaaster @captain-jebi @leilei-draws @disgruntledspacedad @melobee @stilllivindue2spite @pointy-sharp @artsymaddie @waywardmando @asta-lily @thisshipwillsail316 @mylifeofcalculatedchaos @grogusmum @sherala007 @mejswho @uncle-kenobi @rogertaylorsfalsettogivesmehives @tacticalsparkles @mandocrasis @littlebopper96 @you-got-me-starry-eyed @kiss-evans @writeforfandoms @pbeatriz @anaaaispunk

#my fic #my writing #Mandalorian #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian fanfic #Din Djarin #din x you #din x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #togruta reader #ahsoka tano #the last mandalorian #pedrostories #art

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nctsjiho · 3 years

Text

Global Cuisine

warnings: a bad word in French if you want to consider that worthy of a warning

❀ The one where Jisung accidentally says a really bad word in French

“Basically it’s a Canadian dish made from fries and gravy. Right Mark?” JiHo eyed the boy with a raised brow and he hummed in response. “I actually didn’t have it a lot when I was growing up.” JiHo just gave him an acknowledging nod before walking over to the bookshelf.

JiHo and some of the other members were at the SM library/classroom to do some individual studying. Mark and Jungwoo were studying their Japanese while Jisung and Chenle had tagged along to learn a bit of everything.

Just a few minutes back JiHo had learned Jisung some basic French - although he pretty much sucked at it, JiHo still appreciated his effort - and now he was studying English.

Chenle who had taken his spot next to the maknae wasn’t really being much more than a pain. He constantly teased Jisung when he messed up which if it were JiHo she’d probably loose her patience, but Jisung seemed almost unbothered. Seeing how Jisung was almost immune to Chenle’s teasing she had gained so much more respect for the youngest.

Now Jisung was learning about global cuisine. His youthful curiosity had caused him to ask a million questions, which everyone in the room found equally adorable and annoying, since everyone else, bar Chenle, was busy with their own things.

“Wait, so what’s it called? Uhm...” JiHo made her way back to the table after grabbing a book she had been eyeing for a while, noticing Jisung struggling to pronounce the word. Being the only one noticing Jisung’s struggle she let him struggle a bit more, finding it adorable how his face twisted in all kinds of expressions. “Ah- P*tain!”

The proud smile on Jisung’s face was immediately wiped away as he heard the sound of a book hit the floor with a thud. The three other boys in the room watched as JiHo clasped her hand around Jisung’s mouth, her eyes so wide as if she had seen something gruesome.

Jisung pried JiHo’s hand from his mouth and turned to her with a questioning, slightly scared, expression. “You can’t say that word, Jisung!” She sounded so panicked which caused Jisung to start panicking as well. “What? What did I say?! I was just saying put-” “Jisung, no!”

The girl settled next to him, acting as if she had just ran a marathon with how heavy she was breathing. “It’s pronounced poutine! Not put- Not that other word you just said.” Jisung eyed the other boys who had been laughing at the scene unfolding in front of them, yet they were also very confused.

“What did he say then?” Chenle asked curiously. “I’m not telling you. Just don’t ever say it again.” She pointed back at Jisung who just forced a nod. “What does putai-” “CHENLE! Shut up! It’s just a very, very, VERY bad word in French okay?! Never say that word, understood!”

Earlier, JiHo had learned him how to read and pronounce French words. The rules and pronunciation had probably stuck with the boy, which was likely the reason how he not only mispronounced the word, but ended up saying a word that existed in the French language.

When it dawned on Jisung that he had said a bad word - not knowing exactly how bad, but guessing from JiHo’s little outburst he could tell it was very bad - in a foreign language had made his face go pale. The other three boys were now on the floor laughing. The youngest’s expression pushing them over the edge so much that their laughter was almost not allowing them to breath properly.

“Is it really that bad?” Jisung whispered. JiHo placed her hand on his shoulder giving it a soft squeeze. “Never say it again.” She stared him dead in the eye for a minute which sent shivers down his spine. He just nodded once more before turning to his book, his thoughts covering up the laughter of the other boys.

Not even a minute later Haechan and Renjun walked into the room and Chenle jumped up to his feet. “Hyungs! Jisung said a really bad word in French!” His dolphin-like laughter sounded through the room.

Jisung jumped up to stop Chenle from bringing up the embarrassing moment, yet it was too late as Renjun and Haechan looked at him with wide eyes. “What did you say?” Haechan asked dumbfounded. “No! More important, why did you say it?” Renjun seemed ready to scold Jisung.

JiHo hadn’t really laughed before, but seeing Jisung that flustered with Haechan and Renjun questioning him and Chenle teasing the poor boy had JiHo loosen up a bit and start chuckling. Even though Jisung was standing with his back turned to JiHo, she could see the tips of his ears turn a bright red and she could hear him start to stutter in an attempt to explain himself to his hyungs.

Mark poked at JiHo’s shoulder to grab her attention. “Shouldn’t you help the poor dude out?” JiHo just smiled and shrugged. “I never learned him that word, I’m not taking responsibility for that.” Mark laughed at her comment before they both turned back to see Jisung getting scolded by three of his older friends without being able to defend himself.

---

Side note: based on a true story lol, this somewhat happened in one of my classes in high school and it was hilarious. Luckily we had a very chill French teacher. ALSO I’m sorry for that dumb title, I couldn’t think of anything else.

#jiho.writings #nct 24th member #nct addition #nct fluff #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct dream fluff #nct dream imagines #nct extra member #nct additional member #nct female member #kpop!addition #kpop!oc

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ateezmakemeweep · 3 years

Text

richboy!yeosang (part 5)

word count: 6k

angst, fluff (tw: postpartum depression)

(part 4) (miniseries masterlist)

kang jang-mi was born at seven pounds, four ounces on what felt like the hottest day in june.

your friends sat anxiously in the waiting room, the last remaining quarrels about if it’s a boy or a girl quietly spoken and much more positive. mingi and yunho could only sit there sharing side-eyes and smirks, your slip up in the coffee shop filling them with excitement.

“i still think it’s a boy,” jongho says, “i’m confident.”

“i already bought the it’s a girl balloon so it better be.”

“well i bought the it’s a boy balloon so...”

yeosang walking into the waiting room stops the conversation immediately, a smirk crossing his face at the two different types of balloons. the boys are up and out of their seats immediately, rushing over to the new father with a flurry of questions and comments.

but the man is used to this type of chaos from his friends, silencing them with a single finger before attempting to get to all of their questions - or at least some of them.

“y/n and the baby are okay. she can only see two people at a time and she personally requested mingi and yunho first.”

disappointed sighs and groans leave the other boys as mingi and yunho shoot up from their seats, scurrying over to yeosang who shares a knowing smile with the couple.

“wait, wait, wait,” jongho says when the three men turn to leave, yeosang looking him over questioningly.

he watches with a growing smirk as his youngest friend grabs a blue balloon before snatching away san’s ‘it’s a girl’, offering them both to him expectantly.

“which one?”

multiple heads of innocent bystanders and smirking staffs snap to the big group of men, surprised gasps leaving all of them when yeosang wordlessly takes the pink balloon and pushes mingi and yunho toward your room.

chaos erupts from the other group of boys being left in the waiting room, other bystanders and nurses watching along with wide-eyed expressions.

“i told you, you silly fuck!”

“they got it wrong. i was- i was so sure.”

“did she really ask for us or did you feel bad that we were stuck with them?” yunho chuckles out, yeosang sharing a smirk with the boy as they walk down the hall.

“a little bit of both,” he says, stopping in front of the door and peeking inside.

he can see through the window that your eyes are shut, the sweat once dripping down your face gone as you lay completely still and relaxed.

the labor had been hard but you’d gotten through it well, to no one’s surprise.

you squeezed his hand while you screamed and cried, swearing you were never gonna do this again and will only trust in condoms from here on out. you blamed him for his “kink for elevators” and only didn’t burst out laughing because he knew you were in pain.

but now as lay still and healthy, your baby in the newborn unit adjusting to the new world, he feels a different type of content. all the fear and anxiety about the unknowns settled with the simple fact that you’re okay and the baby’s okay.

“they’re both doing really good, though. y/n’s not mad at me anymore for getting her pregnant so that’s a good sign,” yeosang chuckles, his eyes looking toward you lovingly before meeting yunho and mingi’s gaze again.

“we got to talk and we wanted to ask you two something,” the boy says, his eyes moving from yunho to mingi before hardening slightly.

“i wanted yunho as the god parent but y/n insisted that you have to be as well,” he says, underneath the mock look of disdain and irritation an intense happiness and warmth everyone can clearly see.

“i don’t know want you thinking this was my idea. so... what do you guys say? wanna be godparents?” yeosang smiles, the overwhelming look in yunho and mingi’s eyes making him chuckle; they both look ready to cry and scream in joy.

“maybe try to not let my daughter now you’ve tried to kill me on multiple occasions,” he adds to mingi, the boy rolling his eyes despite the way he reaches out and pats his shoulder.

the movement’s a little awkward and unfamiliar but neither of the boys say anything, an unspoken respect and liking for each other that’s come about within the past years.

both of them know the other would never do anything to hurt you purposely and they know the same will be said for jang-mi.

“of course, are you kidding me!” yunho chuckles out, pulling yeosang’s smaller boy into his. “thank you, yeosang. that’s so... this is gonna be so cool.”

yeosang smiles and nods his head, looking back at you to see you’re now sitting up awake and stretching your arms up.

the three boys bursting through the door cause you to look over and smile lazily, a quiet, “hi,” before you’re promptly pulled into a hug.

“be careful,” yeosang growls at mingi, the taller boy ignoring him completely; of course he was being careful, you just pushed out a baby a few hours ago.

“how you feeling?” yunho asks before his smile widens. “i’m asking as, you know, the godparent...”

“you... asked them without me?!” you whined softly at yeosang, smacking him in the stomach as he throws his arms up defensively.

“you were sleeping, baby, you said it was okay,” he whines back, bending down to peck a kiss on your head.

“i know but i still wanted to-”

the nurse knocking on the door rips your attention away, eyes wide and alert as you think she’s about to tell you something is wrong; but then she’s there smiling softly, holding a pink blanket with your baby wrapped up in it that causes mingi and yunho to gasp quietly.

“oh, my god.... she’s so small,” mingi whispers, yunho snorting next to him as he throws his arm around his shoulder.

“what’d you expect? she’s a baby,” he responds, watching as you so naturally take the baby in your arms.

you’d always been a little scared of just how delicate newborn babies are, feeling awkward or nervous to take them or hold them in the wrong way.

but it’s like the eight and a half month journey had made everything easier and more natural, the simple inclination you have even just to hold her properly something you couldn’t have ever imagined.

“come here,” you mumble softly, yunho and mingi moving closer to the bed to get a good look at her.

and as far as babies go, though they think they might be a little biased, they have to imagine she’s the prettiest one they’d ever seen. a head full of hair already and eyes gazing up at them curiously, alert and calm and making them coo quietly at her.

“are we allowed to hold her?” yunho asks.

but before he gets the chance, five bodies barreling through the door with the nurse’s “wait, two at a time please!” distract all of you, the rest of the boys rushing through to get a look at you and the baby.

“let us see, let us see!”

“i can’t believe it’s a girl.”

“wait.... don’t tell me they’re the godparents.”

if you thought the bickering that went on after the boys found out about who you chose as god parents was bad, you weren’t nearly prepared enough for your first month as a mother.

your once peaceful and quiet apartment had quickly turned into chaos. it was the 7th night in a row you were awoken by your little girl’s screams and you weren’t sure if you could take much more of it.

the first week was strangely blissful, you and yeosang taking shifts to feed her or check on her in the middle of the night.

“mom, i’m telling you, everything is strangely.... really good?” you said on the phone foolishly, going on and on about how easy your baby was.

how feeding her always went smoothly, how she basically slept through the night unless one small cry echoed through the baby monitor.

how you and yeosang loved just sitting around the house and watching her sleep or look up at you two curiously.

how you couldn’t believe you’d gotten so lucky to have, both, an understanding boyfriend and well-behaved infant.

but that all quickly changed one night, a summer thunderstorm you’re almost positively traumatized your daughter to the point of tarnishing her near-perfect sleep schedule.

now she cried on the hour to just be held, feeding her at the normal times but then screaming her head off when you tried to place her back down. you’d fallen asleep in the chair holding her one too many times to count, tired and drained and just wanting to relieve your heavy eyes.

yeosang admired your composure and helped along side the way, waking with you and kneeling down watching you hum softly or rest your eyes; but then you cracked the 7th night and, similar to your pregnancy outbursts, it seemed almost out of nowhere.

it’d been his turn to get up and feed her, the wailing and screaming that’s kept you up for nights silencing just a few moments after it started.

whether it be your own curiosity or your new mother’s protectiveness kicking in, you peeked inside the nursery to see yeosang staring down at your daughter. both of them are completely calm and relaxed in the darkness, only the sound of her soft breathing and yeosang’s gentle hums.

as you lean against the door and watch them, you feel a strange mix of warmth and sadness.

you knew you were right in your assumption that yeosang was gonna be a great dad. he was kind and nurturing and sweet, you saw it in the way he took care of you and the other people in your lives.

and jang-mi from the moment she was in the world loved him, looked to him and was easily soothed by him - you could just tell they were gonna have a great relationship.

but you.

you felt as if you were failing.

the nights you woke to feed her, she typically screamed and cried for what felt like hours. she’d only settle down in your arms when you’d start to hum the same tune as yeosang right now, something you both did during your months of pregnancy.

it felt as if at nights, that with her new fears and rocky sleeping pattern, that in times of crisis, she wanted yeosang.

and a part of you loved that but another part of you couldn’t help but feel powerless. that even after a month of bonding with your baby, smiling and laughing and holding her, after months of carrying her and helping her grow, she didn’t seem to like you.

yeosang caught your gaze and you smiled at him softly, giving him a tired thumbs up before trekking back to bed.

you tried to push down your feelings and felt bad for feeling this way, a knot in your stomach and pain in your chest; it wasn’t about jang-mi and yeosang or you and him as parents as much as it was about you feeling completely incompetent.

you couldn’t even get your own baby to stop crying faster than yeosang; everyone says a mother has a natural tendency to do that so why does it feel like you don’t?

the tears in your eyes are unaware to you until you push your face into your pillow and feel the wetness seeping through. you can only stay there buried in shame and defeat and embarrassment, knowing that while you’re in here crying, your baby is doing fine without you.

yeosang comes in a few moments later, only small whines from his daughter as he placed her body in her crib. she looked up at him and he smiled softly, reaching out to pat the peach fuzz on her head until she fell fast asleep.

the past month has been tiring but worth it, crawling in beside you and wrapping his arms around your waist.

“hopefully she’s good for the night,” he mumbled in your ear, his lips pressing against your head chastely. you only hum in response and at first he thinks it’s just because you’re tired but then he feels how tense you are.

how your shoulders are tight and your face is buried and it causes him to call your name gently.

you’re not surprised that he’s able to tell something’s wrong, rolling over wordlessly and allowing him to see your tear-stained face. it immediately makes his heart sink, lips turning into a frown as he reaches out to dab at the wetness.

“hey, hey, what’s wrong?” he asks lowly, voice sweet and tone deep and it only makes you break more.

“you’re... you’re so good with her, yeosang,” you whimper out, his eyebrows pulling together as he wipes at your tears and pulls you closer. “you’re so good with her and she barely cries when you go in there... but when i go in there... i feel like i’m doing a terrible job.”

“what?” yeosang asks, genuine confusion in his voice as he pulls your face to meet his. there’s anxiety and sadness and defeat in your eyes, his hold on you tightening as he shakes his head.

“no, no, baby. you’re doing so good and she loves you,” he reassures gently.

“no i’m not,” you cry out, shaking your head as you feel all the stress and fear and anxiety from this pat month hit you. “i don’t know what the hell i’m doing.”

“neither do i, baby,” he says, a pout on his lips as he looks over your teary face. “we both still don’t know what we’re doing but it’s going well, no? i love you and she loves you.”

“no, it’s not,” you whimper out, burying your face in his shirt and feeling him sigh against you. “and she hates me. she only wants you at night and screams when i go in there. why else would she do that?”

your words are wet and muffled but he’s still able to make each one out, his heart breaking as he gently runs his fingers through your hair.

“every day and night has been different, my love. some days she’s been good and others she’s been cranky. we’re all still adjusting and that’s okay,” he says quietly, reminding himself these exact words in his own fits of panic.

because of course he’s panicking half the time too but he tries to be strong for you. be a rock for you in a way you’ve always been for him.

“you’re doing so good, baby, i promise. she wants you every morning, have you noticed that? i can go in there and pick her up but she cries. she only stops when she sees you walk through.”

“that’s only because she’s hungry,” you mutter, a humorless chuckle leaving yeosang’s mouth as he shakes his head.

“no. because i feed her, too. she just wants to see you in the morning, baby,” he mumbles, holding himself above you so his eyes can roam your face. he presses a kiss on your cheek, then the other, until he’s pressing them all over you and you’re pushing him away playfully.

“you’re doing great, love. we both are and she actually likes us, i think,” he says, flopping back down before pulling you on his chest. similiar to his movements from just moments ago in the nursery, his hand runs through your hair gently and you fall asleep to the sound of his heartbeat.

and sure enough, when you wake up, you hear cries coming from the nursery that have you springing up and out of your bedroom. yeosang’s holding jang-mi and he smiles knowingly at you, pressing a kiss to your head he passes her to you and her wails stop.

the next few months, you both became a little more confident in your parenting abilities.

changing diapers was easier and waking up for nightly feedings was like clockwork, falling into a steady routine that consisted of yeosang taking online classes and going to work three times a week.

on the days he was out, one of the five boys would come over and keep you both company - yeosang’s demand that one of them keep his girls busy and happy while he’s out.

jang-mi was a little over six months now, laying on the floor with mingi while you cooked for the three of you. your days were the same at this point but you loved each and every one, cooped up in the apartment as you watched your baby grow and meet all her milestones.

you’d been there for all of them and you prided yourself on that. the first time she smiled at you, the first time she reached out for the toy san had gotten her, the first time she-

“y/n!”

you ran from the stove to the living room at mingi’s loud voice, rushing inside to see your best friend looking down at your child like she’d grown 3 heads.

“what? what happened?” you ask frantically, rushing over to get a good look at her; she’s not crying and you don’t see any blood, those are already two reassuring signs.

“she just said my name!”

and it’s at that you start giggling into your hand, covering your face and shaking your head because “mingi, she just turned six months. she can’t talk yet.”

“but she did! she just did! i swear she said-”

there’s a pounding on your front door before seonghwa, san and wooyoung enter, the three boys not even acknowledging you as they rush over to the baby on the floor.

“hi to you guys too,” you huff, watching the boys crowd around the jang-mi with shouts of “hey, y/n!” a giggle leaves your mouth before you ditch the meal and order pizza instead, calling yeosang to see if he’ll be home soon.

“hey, baby. how it’s going?”

“the boys showed up so i just ordered pizza,” you tell him, watching as jang-mi giggles at san and wooyoung making funny faces at her. “are you gonna be home soon?”

“what, you miss me or something?”

because after all this time you spend together now, more often than not during the week, leaving each other proves to be more difficult. you’d think you two would want a break from each other but him leaving is by far the worst part of your days on monday through wednesday.

“yes,” you admit softly, his deep chuckle causing you to giggle softly.

“i’ll be home soon. probably 30 minutes, just finishing up some stuff. will you be able to last that long?”

you roll your eyes and let out a scoff as you make your way into the living room, insisting to your boyfriend you’ll do just fine before your eyes catch mingi and jang-mi smiling at one another.

“oh. and you’ll be happy to hear that mingi thinks jang-mi’s first word was his name.”

“oh, bullshit,” yeosang snaps, a loud chuckle leaving your mouth that grabs said man’s attention.

“it was! i heard her say it!”

“she doesn’t even like you!” yeosang says loudly through the phone, the image of him screaming in his office making you giggle. you hang up before the two can start to bicker more, sliding your phone onto the table before sinking down onto the couch.

you’re still tired these days but the boys coming over helps, allowing you to relax while also watching jang-mi play and have fun.

you don’t know when or how you doze off with the chaos, you just know that one moment you’re watching seonghwa tickle jang-mi and the next, you’re waking up to yeosang placing a kiss on your lips.

“hey, love,” he mumbles, kneeling down to meet your gaze on the couch. you smile tiredly as you bury yourself into the cushions, pulling him closer to you and mumbling that you missed him.

“i know, baby, i missed you too,” he hums.

because if there’s one thing he noticed throughout parenthood, it’s that, somehow, your relationship has only gotten stronger.

you both have the same fears but also have the same things that make you happy - and that’s each other, your baby, and the headache inducing friends currently talking shit to your child.

“they’re so gross, you’re gonna have a brother soon, mark my words, miss jang-mi.”

“nah, it’ll be another girl, i know it for sure now,” wooyoung says, dabbing at her face full of applesauce. “you’ll be an older sister, little lady.”

“he thought you were a chicken, mi, you really can’t take his word for anything.”

you and yeosang share an amused look before he pulls you to your feet, guiding you over to the table before quickly pecking your cheek. he takes jang-mi for a diaper change as you talk and laugh with the boys, everything about your life right now far too perfect.

it was a rough start but they all made it a little easier.

you were lucky to have a great support system, albeit a little insane, that made this transition easy.

there was nothing but love and admiration between all of you, their eyes lighting up every time jang-mi giggles or concern flashing when she stumbles down clumsily.

like when yeosang comes back into the main room without jang-mi fifteen minutes later, they all jump up and demand to know where she is.

“you idiots tired her out, she fell asleep in the middle of a diaper change.”

and with the baby sleeping and the rest of the night to yourselves, you and yeosang are quick to all but kick everyone out of the apartment. there’s loud protests and mock hurt from the boys but they know deep down, you two rarely get a minute to yourselves these days.

mingi gives you a parting wink and you roll your eyes, waving goodbye to the boy before yeosang closes the door. he turns to see you cleaning up the table and quickly stops you, tugging you by the waist before promptly throwing you down on the couch.

you land with a giggle as his body covers yours, lips meeting yours in a kiss that quickly has your legs wrapping around his waist.

it’s been a while since you two were able to do something as simple as make out, feel him under you as you straddle his lap or suppress your moans as his kisses down your neck.

but right now, something as silly as kissing and giggling and roaming hands on the couch feels exciting. it feels the same way it did in the pool house all those years ago, fresh and fun and exciting.

full of a passion that you hoped even then would never burn out.

and not even now with a baby has it. not even with a real ‘adult’ life have you two ever felt as if that connection was gone.

“i love you, you know that?” he mumbles into your skin, your cheeks warming and stomach fluttering as you look up at him. there’s a soft pink glow to them that makes him smile fondly, his hand cupping your cheek gently.

you can only nod shyly, your own softly spoken “i love you, too,” mumbled into the living room.

the sky is an array of pink and orange, the sun just about to set before darkness paints the windows of your apartment.

it’ll be a night for movies, snacks and resting your head on his lap, his hands playing with your before one of two things happens: jang-mi wakes up and you bring her out or you fall asleep and yeosang carries you into bed for the night.

the latter had seemed to happen a few hours later because one minute, your head’s resting on yeosang under a blanket and the next, you’re placed down on your soft, cold bed.

you let out a tired whine and yeosang smiles down at you, mumbling that you fell asleep before quickly joining you; it’s wednesday which means yeosang’s home for the next four days, your smile widening at that reminder before you move yourself closer to him.

his days off now don’t mean you can sleep in but instead, wake together. make breakfast for each other while watching your child giggle and smile in her high chair.

you used to go to the park on the days it wasn’t too cold but now with winter approaching, you’re usually cozied up in your house with the fire place burning and a cartoon on.

switching between giving attention to each other and jang-mi, who promptly wakes you both up at 5:30 in the morning.

you insist that yeosang sleeps in more, pushing him back down numerous times before he pins you to the bed and demands for you to go back to bed; a pout covers your lips as you shake your head but it’s like your tired eyes don’t get the memo.

“you worked for the past three days, you need to rest,” you whine tiredly, his eyes rolling because he’s positive sitting behind a desk and talking with his coworkers is a lot easier than taking care of a baby.

“i’m well rested, thank you, love,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss to your cheek before pulling back. “mi will have to settle for her dad today.”

the two and a half hours of sleep were great but when you woke up and saw pancakes ready for you and yeosang and jang-mi laying together on the couch, you could’ve burst into tears on the spot.

he was talking softly to her, singing her name in a little tune before you heard his deep chuckle.

“what’s so funny?” you ask, both, his and jang-mi’s smiles brightening at the sound of your voice. she immediately opens her arms up for you and you take her happily, pressing a kiss to her head before looking at your boyfriend.

the scent of pancakes is more prominent in the living room, looking over to see a plate of pancakes sitting atop the stove.

“thank you for breakfast,” you say softly, the smell filling the apartment making your stomach growl.

“thank you for finally listening to me and sleeping in.”

you roll your eyes before bringing your food over to the table, sitting on the floor as you watch jang-mi babble and play with her toys next to you.

she’s been babbling for the past few weeks now so when you hear her quiet, little “gigigi,” you don’t think much of it; but then when yeosang bursts out laughing again, you have to look to him with your mouth stuffed full of pancakes.

“what?”

“do you think that’s why mingi thought she was saying his name?”

a loud laugh bubbles out of your mouth causing jang-mi to jump before joining along, her own giggles and your reaction causing yeosang to snort into his hand.

he’s quick to whip out his phone and record her, her smile and giggles quickly shifting when she rolls on her back and starts to play with her toes.

and when mingi watches the video yeosang sends him a few moments later, he can’t help but gleefully send back that not only does his own child like him more, he said his name first.

it was a nosy, crotchety old woman at the food store that sparked the conversation of marriage between you and yeosang.

you two were shopping for jang-mi’s first birthday tomorrow, her smiley and giggling form in the front of the cart, when an older woman commented on how beautiful she was.

“thank you,” you smiled politely, you and yeosang sharing that same, warm look any time someone compliments your child.

“you must’ve been a young bride, dear, you look like a baby too,” she chuckled, a smirk on yeosang’s lips as you let out a forced, almost strangled laugh.

and it’s then the woman’s eyes move down your body to your ringless left hand, a look of judgment crossing her face quicker than you can believe.

“oh... or not a bride, that’s....”

“none of your business, now is it lady?” yeosang says, his tone just as deceptively kind as hers even with the bite in it.

she walks off with a huff and dirty look thrown your way, a smirk on your face before you push him down the cereal aisle.

it bothered you a little bit when you first found about jang-mi, getting pregnant and not being married, but those feelings quickly went away when you thought about how silly that was.

marriage is something that’s different for everyone and for you and yeosang, even with a baby, it’s not something you inherently need. you already live together and live your life as a married couple - all that’s left to do is blow money on the ceremony and go away to a tropical island.

yeosang can’t help but be a little bothered by the woman’s words throughout the day, though probably because they were directed toward you, but he noticed you weren’t upset at all about it.

you carried on in the store and at the house like normal, setting up decorations and planning the meals while he put jang-mi to bed by wrapping her in her birthday onesie.

“hey, baby,” you hear him say, turning from your spot at the stove.

he presses your back against it and you smile into the kiss, tilting your head coyly when you pull away. your eyes roam his face because you could tell that woman’s comment irritated him, you just weren’t sure why.

“are you okay?”

“mhm,” he hums lowly, his hands reaching up to run through your hair. “why wouldn’t i be?”

“i don’t know...” you mumble quietly, a smirk pulling at your lips before you bring your hand next to your face to wiggle your fingers. “maybe because we’re sinners who aren’t married.”

a snort leaves yeosang’s mouth as he shakes his head, pulling you by the waist in typical fashion to bring you over to the couch. you two plop down as you get comfy on him, resting your head on his shoulder and basking in his comfort and warmth.

you’re not sure how long you sit in a comfortable silence for, you just know that everything is calm and quiet and it’s such a contrast to this time last year. when things were chaotic and you felt like you wouldn’t be able to handle motherhood.

when you weren’t sure how you and yeosang would be, if the dynamic and household was gonna be so different that it ended up breaking you guys down as a couple.

and while things changed, it seemed to be for the better. it only made you two more happy and more secure, wedding band and your official last name as kang aside.

“i don’t mind not being married,” you assure him quietly, because you know that’s the elephant in the room right now.

“i don’t... want us to get married because we had a kid. i want us to get married when the time feels right. maybe when we’re both actually out of school or something,” you chuckle out, remembering when that was your original plan for popping out a kid.

yeosang feels a weight lift off his shoulder as he looks over at you, unsurprised in the slightest that you not only knew what was wrong, but that you were able to calm him down.

assure him in a way that made him know you guys always seem to be on the same page when you effectively communicate about things.

“i feel the same way,” he says to you, tightening his hold on you before pressing a kiss to your head. “even though if you wanted... i’d go out and-”

“buy a ring right now,” you tease, shimming over until you’re sitting on his lap. you twirl your fingers through his hair. “i think you’re just eager to buy the wedding ring.”

“duh, it’s gonna be flashy as fuck.”

your face pulls into one of disgust and he can’t help but laugh, knowing on more than one occasion he’s thought about what kind of wedding ring you’d want.

“i’d kill you,” you mumble, the last of your sentence getting cut off when he slams his lips on yours.

“shut up,” he mumbles back, you giggling against his mouth before you move your hips over his teasingly.

your clothes become littered on the living room floor before your naked body runs into the bedroom to grab a condom, the promise that you screamed through labor every bit true as you roll the latex over yeosang.

“are you ever gonna trust birth control again? i miss feeling your warm, tight pus-”

you sink down on him and chuckle when he lets out a moan, rolling your eyes and riding him on the couch with the reassurance that, a month later, you won’t be needing to get another pregnancy test just yet.

“no, no! say wooo-young!”

“gi....gi.”

“woooo-young.”

“gi.....gi.”

“wooyoung.”

“gigi.”

everyone around the table snorts at the look jang-mi throws her uncle, her sweet little voice just as stern and face just as dumbfounded.

“i told you guys, i’m her favorite,” mingi boasts, taking jang-mi from her seat and smiling when she clings on to him.

her first birthday consisted of cake, bickering and pink decorations placed throughout the apartment. her pile of toys in the living room and nursery doubled from the amount of gifts today alone, a giant dollhouse taking up a good portion of her room now.

it’s where she’s currently dragging mingi and, begrudgingly, wooyoung off to, showing them all her dolls and cars that they’ve gifted her throughout the first year of her life.

you and yeosang watch her walk off, the two boys crouched and awkwardly walking like crabs so they’re down to her level. you both share a smile before yeosang pecks your cheek, cleaning up the leftover cake and plates while you share a smile with yunho.

“can you guys adopt a baby?”

you’ve never seen yunho’s face turn a brighter shade of red in your life, his hand reaching out to smack your arm lightly.

“are you crazy?”

“oh c’mon,” you whine, a playful smile on your face as you poke his stomach with both pointer fingers. “isn’t it sweet watching mingi with a baby? he’s barely grouchy anymore.”

“maybe around her,” he scoffs, your eyes rolling because you know mingi isn’t as happy and pleasant around anyone as much as he is his fiancé - though next month, you’ll be able to say husband.

it was quickly planned but the two decided to have a summer wedding, july 21st with none other than jang-mi as the flower girl. her dress is yellow and has been hung on her door for weeks, excitement rushing through her every time she sees it.

“okay well then after the wedding, of course,” you wink, his eyes rolling; but you also don’t miss the shy smile and warm blush on his cheeks, knowing very well those two would create the best home for a child.

yunho thinks maybe they would too, watching how quickly and naturally mingi surprisingly is with children.

yeosang plops down next to guys and chastises you for bringing it up again, knowing from the look on yunho’s face you were probably begging him to adopt a cousin for jang-mi.

“oh c’mon, but wouldn’t it be cute?” you say, smiling up at yeosang in a way that causes him to tap your nose lightly.

“it would be,” he mumbles, before pulling you closer to him. his lips ghost over your ear and it’s probably far too intimate a move with all your friends here but he does it anyway, having no regard or care in the world.

“or she could just... get another sibling.”

you narrow your eyes and smack his arm lightly, reminding yourself to stack up on more condoms when you go to the store tomorrow.

“yeah, right. not for another year, yeosang, i’m serious.”

a smirk crosses his face as he nods his head, pecking your lips lightly before watching your daughter run clumsily to him.

he scoops her up as her giggle rings through the air, his lips smacking loud kisses on her cheeks as she squeals loudly; and it’s upon seeing that you don’t think you’d mind having another baby again.

because planned or not, confident in your parenting abilities or not, you know you and your little family are always gonna be okay.

jang-mi reaches out for you and you immediately rise to your feet, fixing the tiny ponytail atop her head right before her and yeosang place simultaneous pecks on your cheeks.

“cuteeee!” wooyoung squeals, looking over at you before squeezing past and poking jang-mi in the arm lightly. “now tell me, little lady, who’s your favorite? mommy or daddy?”

she narrows her eyes at the man like he asked her something unholy, looking between you and yeosang before throwing her arms around both of you. you share a small giggle and place a peck on her head, your eyes catching yeosang’s just as he smiles back at you.

“both. i love mommy and daddy,” she says, her squeaky little voice causing your smile to widen.

“and gigi,” she quickly adds, a laugh bubbling out of you when everyone, including yeosang, let out groans and smack the favorite uncle in the arm.

complete

tag list: @mirror-juliet @toffee-hwa @valhoez @miatsubaki23 @mydaintydaisy @treasurehwa @markleeyeosang

#now for those of you upset seonghwa doesn't have a baby #perhaps....stayed tuned #aha #even tho some of u seem to hate children #kdscksksd #yeosang #yeosang fluff #ateez #ateez fluff #yeosang scenarios #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #yeosang imagines

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bluemoonbeam15 · 3 years

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Hey, so I saw this video and it got me thinking. What if the reason Hopper bullies the ants for food so much is because he molted into a locust during a time of famine? Maybe his family didn’t have anything to eat and he had to do anything he could to stay alive? What if because of this change he’s always hungry, and that causes a lot of his outbursts? That poor bug. If Flick knew maybe he would’ve shown him more mercy or reached out.

https://youtu.be/uURqcI08IC4

^That’s the vid.

This is actually the first time I've been introduced to the differences between a locust and a grasshopper. For a long while, I assumed they were two different species in the same genus or family.

After watching the video and doing more research, it turns out the only defining difference between them is their psychological state. A grasshopper is only defined as a locust when it is surrounded by others of its kind and it essentially "panics" and grows manic and savage. That's why locusts are known for wreaking havoc on crops, it's like a manic episode for them.

This manic state happens when the sensory glands on the grasshopper's hind legs are rubbed constantly over a period of 4 hours. So, when they are surrounded by more due to famines, that spot is getting rubbed and it drives them crazy.

In comparison, it's similar to how a cat will oftentimes bite when you scratch that spot at the base of its tail. That spot is actually a sensitive gland that, when touched, overstimulates the cat's senses.

Based on my research, the molting that transpires during this psychological change is because of the stressful environment of being overcrowded. Kind of like how people themselves will lose more hair when stressed or a lot of animals shed their fur when facing anxiety. It's a consequence of the circumstances more than a method of adaptation.

That being said, I tried researching to see if locusts could go back to being grasshoppers, or essentially reverse that psychological state. And, unfortunately, came upon controversial answers. It's one of those, yes and no type questions.

This means I get to interpret the information however I want! XD

So for this short story, I'm going to be assuming that the psychological state can be reversed when they are distanced from the other grasshoppers (locusts). However, because they have already been in that manic state, Hopper and Molt find themselves in dangerous territory where the glands on their legs are much more sensitive. Meaning, they have a higher chance of reverting back to that manic state if they are too stressed.

Additionally, I'm twisting it a little bit from what we see in the movie. Now that these glands are more sensitive, the brothers are prone to be driven into a deeper manic state than what they were initially in. Especially Hopper, who was shown in the movie to be more on edge compared to his brother. Thumper's mentality is a prime example of this deeper state. So, Hopper and Molt -- mainly Hopper, but Molt must also tread lightly -- can easily be coaxed into that savage state if the glands are rubbed.

<><><><><><><><><>

"Come on! You'll have a great time, I promise!" Flik tugged on Hopper's arm. It was times like these he wished he weighed even half of what Hopper did.

The grasshopper didn't have to resist much. "Kid, I don't think that's such a good idea," he scratched the back of his neck.

Flik dramatically groaned, "But everyone will be there! Do you realize how often the Monarchs throw a huge party like this? Every ten years! This is our chance to meet them in person! The Monarchs, Hopper!"

"Yeah, no, I get it, really...but it's really just not my scene," Hopper unclasped Flik's hands from around his arm and stepped back. "You can go without me. The Circus Bugs are going aren't they?"

The ant gave a defeated huff, "Well, yeah..."

"Well there ya go," Hopper shrugged and nudged Flik toward the entrance of his room, "You'll have the time of your life. Go and enjoy yourself."

Flik spun around, "But it won't be the same! It's just for the night, Hop."

He sighed, "Flik--"

"Please?" The ant drooped his antennae back, lip quivering and eyes doleful. It was the most pitiful thing Hopper had laid eyes on.

His resolve lasted about five more seconds before he dropped his head, "Alright, fine...I'll go."

Flik laughed in victory, "You won't regret it!" He pulled Hopper with him down the tunnel.

"I highly doubt that."

____________________

The lightning bugs were flashing around, creating a mystical ambiance. Flik was awed at the plethora of species dancing and conversing with each other. The Monarchs held their celebrations in The City, which seemed fitting for a social creature.

Unfortunately, some of the creatures there weren't exactly social...

Flik laughed as Heimlich immediately zoned in on the food table, clearing a wide path among the crowd. "See Hop? Isn't this great?" His question wasn't answered. "Hop?" He looked around behind him, pinpointing the grasshopper a ways off.

Hopper tried staying calm, biting his lip unconsciously. There were just...so...many...insects. So much noise and racket. Where was Molt when he needed him? Lucky idiot made the excuse of helping Dr. Flora restock her infirmary. Now here he was. Why didn't he just say no? All the voices seemed as if they were blaring in his antennae.

"--op?" He blinked his eyes open, not realizing he'd squinted them closed. Flik was looking up at him worriedly, "You okay?"

"Huh? Yeah! Yeah, I'm fine," Hopper gave a wavering smile, "Just...enjoying the view," his heart felt like bursting from his chest at the sight. Everyone was just inches from each other...swarming the area.

Flik, in all innocence, gave an encouraging smile, "Well come join the fun! You can't enjoy yourself just standing here!" He went behind the grasshopper and nudged him forward.

Hopper jumped back when another insect brushed against him, "Wait, Flik! This isn't--"

Another insect bumped into them, apologizing offhandedly before moving along. Flik was small enough to not worry too much about the overcrowding. He lived in a colony for goodness' sake. Hopper felt the world spinning around him as more insects kept sliding past. To any other insect, the faint brushes of their wings against their leg would have passed them by. For Hopper, it felt like lightning jolting through his body at every touch.

While everything blurred around him, the sound of Flik calling his name was becoming white noise. A scream pierced through the chaos of his senses.

"Everyone watch out!"

"Be careful!"

"What's wrong with it?"

Flik was pulled back by the arm just as a claw sliced the air in front of him. Gypsy pushed Flik back cautiously. He stared wide-eyed at his friend, "W-What's happening?"

Hopper was doubled-over, clawing at his head momentarily before lashing out at the closest bug to him. A dragonfly fell back trying to get away, "It's gone savage!" she screamed and scrambled back into the crowd. Everyone started panicking and pushing to put distance between them and the grasshopper.

"Hopper! Are you okay?" Flik stepped forward, but Gypsy kept him back.

The grasshopper flattened his antennae baring his teeth at Flik and stalking toward him. His pupils were dilated, wings flared out, and breathing manic. Flik swallowed and shakily called out again, "Hop?"

Like a blur, Hopper lunged forward with claws sheathed. The crowd dispersed in a panic. Gypsy moved Flik behind her protectively, "Dim! Rosie! A little help over here!"

She closed her eyes shut as Hopper snarled and came inches from her face. A heavy thud directed her attention to the rhino beetle beside them. Rosie was perched on his back, working quickly to shoot her webbing around the grasshopper. Hopper tried cutting through the material but it wound tightly around his arms, immobilizing him.

"Man, what the heck happened?" Francis and the others dared walking up to Hopper, earning a hiss in response. "He...he's acting kinda like Thumper."

Flik stepped out from behind Gypsy, keeping his eyes focused on Hopper, "Hop? What's wrong buddy?" He yelped when the grasshopper snapped his jaws toward him. "Th-That's not Hopper..."

Gypsy put an arm around Flik's shoulders, "Let's take him back to the colony. Maybe Dr. Flora knows what's wrong."

_______________

"Goodness! I-I can't say I have anything of use," Flora frantically searched through her herbs. Hopper was on the floor still wrapped in the webbing, his back pressed against the rock-slab bed.

Molt walked in with some supplies in his arms, catching sight of the others, "Oh, you guys are back early!" His smile dropped when he saw his brother. "Hop!" the supplies were quickly forgotten about. Molt slid to the ground beside his brother, "Aw, Hoppy, I knew that party was a bad idea."

"You know what's wrong with him?" Francis tossed a seed at the grasshopper's head, making him snarl and push against his binds.

"It was probably 'cause o' the crowd," Molt cautiously brushed Hopper's antennae back, ignoring the growls. "The stress can make grasshopper's go savage."

Francis snorted, "Stress?"

"Well, yeah," Molt shrugged. "That and...say, were there a lot o' bugs swarmed together?"

Flik blinked, "Yeah, it was a party."

"Did he run into anyone? Or brush against anyone?"

Slim rolled his eyes, "The place was so crowded you couldn't take one step without touching someone."

Molt hummed, "Well that's why he went savage. We grasshoppers have a gland on our legs that's sensitive to touch. It's overstimulating and drives us crazy." Tentatively, he drew a claw over Hopper's leg, making the grasshopper squirm and growl from the sensation. "It's a survival tactic for when there's no food. We'll join a swarm of grasshopper's that will trigger those sensations and drive us to find food."

Flik felt a bit braver to sit down beside Hopper, "Is that why you guys were in a gang? For survival?"

"Yeah, a drought hit us bad at our old home and we were forced to find others to get food."

The ant looked back at Hopper, taking in his demeanor. Was Hopper savage back then? He certainly hadn't acted this wild. But he was definitely on edge. He was just...hungry. Starving, actually. Driven on fear for his own survival.

Gypsy kneeled down in front of Hopper, "Well, I can't do much for that gland. But I do know how to relieve stress." She forced her thumbs beneath his jaw to keep him from biting, pushing her other fingers against the back of his head. "There's a pressure point called 'the gates of consciousness' that helps relieve stress." She carefully pressed down on the back of his neck.

A deep shudder coursed his body before going limp. Gypsy felt his jaw relax and she slowly drew back, lifting his head up, "Alright, Dear, let me see." He blinked his eyes open groggily. They were back to normal from what she could see, "There we go. How are you feeling?"

Hopper groaned, "What...What happened?"

"You went a bit...feral, Dear," Gypsy sat back as Hopper took in his surroundings.

"Feral?" Everything began returning to him. He remembered the party, the lights, bugs, crowding, touching...

He shuddered at the memories, "My head hurts," he groaned.

Gypsy rubbed his temple and began cutting through the webbing, "I can imagine. We'll get you some poppy seeds to sleep it off." Dr. Flora was already getting the medicine together.

Flik wrung his hands together, "I'm sorry, Hopper. I shouldn't have pressured you into going. Why didn't you tell me this would happen?"

"What was I supposed to say?" Hopper gave a mirthless laugh, "I'd go savage if anyone touched me? Yeah, I don't think you would've believed me."

Dr. Flora handed Gypsy a few poppy seeds. "Here, eat these," she placed them in his hand. Hopper took them and laid his head back against the bed. She patted his knee and stood, "You get some rest, Dear. That headache should be gone by morning."

Flik hesitated, "I hope you're not mad."

"Me?" Hopper peeked an eye open. Flik nodded, "Why would I be mad? You didn't know, kid. On the bright side, I got to leave early," he chuckled.

Flik laughed a bit too, "Yeah, and I won't force you to go to another party again. I promise."

Hopper squinted, pinching his fingers, "I'll go to small parties, how about that? And just with our friends."

The ant grinned, "Works for me."

#a bugs life #hopper #flik #request #ask #anon ask #prompt #fanfiction #gypsy #molt #francis #slim #dim #rosie #circus bugs #writing #zootopia vibes tho

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waiting4inspiration · 4 years

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Useless to Me VIII (Ivar x Reader x Hvitserk)

Summary: Ivar learns the truth about Freydis and the child in her womb. You can’t allow Ivar’s wrath to affect the life of an innocent child.

Warnings: angst, strong language, mentions on infidelity, mentions of murder, Freydis being a bitch, the truth comes out, if I missed something please let me know

Word Count: 2,277

Useless to Me Masterlist II Vikings Masterlist

Through the cracks in the wooden wall of a makeshift house, Ivar catches the dishonest affairs you accused Freydis of. His wife shares a kiss with a man he does not know, a kiss one would think a woman would share with her husband. And the man touches her pregnant belly the way a father would touch that of his pregnant wife. And with a proud smile growing on Freydis’s face, Ivar sees that everything you had said is true.

Everything Freydis had told him, from the fact that she carries his child to your twins being of his blood and not Hvitserk’s, is a lie. You never bore his child and Freydis will never bear his. Those things that Freydis said that just because he is a cripple doesn’t mean he can’t have children was just a way to get him wrapped around her finger.

But he sees the truth now.

All those times you bleed when you tried to have a child when you were his wife, that wasn’t your fault. None of it was your fault.

It was all his. He is the one that failed to produce an heir. He’s the ‘useless’ one - as he had called you.

Realizing that makes the anger inside him boil hot. He’s supposed to be favored by the Gods and that means that they’re supposed to bless him with a son. You told him that the Gods will deal out their blessings when the time is right. But you also told him that they can take away their favor. Have they done that to him now? Where does their favor lie?

He finds it almost ironic that he sees Hvitserk waiting for him, sword in hand, in the Great Hall when he thinks of that question as he walks through the open doors. “You threatened to take my son and daughter away from me?”

“Not now, Hvitserk-”

“Yes, now, Ivar!” Hvitserk shouts back, storming towards his brothers who only rolls his eyes at him. “(Y/n), told me everything that happened, that you believe Freydis’s lies that my twins are of your blood,” he hisses, making Ivar stop in his tracks and slowly turn around to face Hvitserk. “You have hurt her more than enough, Ivar. She is my wife, and I promised that she shall not come by any harm by you, physically or by your words. And I will protect her,” he states, glaring coldly at Ivar.

He raises his eyebrow at Hvitserk and takes a step forward. “And what are you going to do, Hvitserk? What will you do to me? Huh?” he asks, tilting his head to the side with a smirk on his face. “If it will make you feel better, brother. I want nothing to do with your children or your wife,” he sneers, narrowing his eyes at Hvitserk. “Take your wife and your children, and leave this Hall. They are free to leave.”

This confuses Hvitserk. One, because of the murderous look in his eyes but yet he’s allowing you and the children he thought were his to go free. And two, because he came here to fight Ivar, but he just turns his back and walks away.

“When my wife gets back, take her to a cell and tell me when you have,” he snaps at a guard who only nods his head and stands stiff in his spot.

Hvitserk frowns at Ivar as he walks away, knowing that it’s probably best not to ask him what he’s doing. But he can’t help the curiosity growing inside him. And though he hates the thought, he knows that Ivar would probably reveal more to you than to him.

You’re pacing as you wait for Hvitserk to come back and tell you good news. You pray that Ivar sees reason and lets you, your son and your daughter go. You pray that Hvitserk comes back. Knowing what Ivar did to Sigurd, what’s to stop him from doing the same to Hvitserk?

The twins are asleep, thank the Gods. You’re certain your anxious walking back and forth will unsettle them. But, they cuddle close together, safe and sound for now because you don’t know what Ivar’s decided now after your husband’s spoken to him.

The door opens, making you jump around to stare, wide-eyed at your husband walking into the room with a confused look on his face. “What is it? What did he say?” you whisper, not wanting to wake your sleeping babes as Hvitserk places his weapons at the door of the room.

He simply looks up at you, sighs, and then walks toward the bed where his children lie. With a shake of his head, you think the worst has happened. And you breathe out a shaky breath. “He’s letting them go. Letting you go,” he whispers.

You freeze, stare at him in shock as he looks up at you. Frowning at him as he takes a step forward, you shake your head in confusion and tilt your head to the side. “I don’t know what happened, but he intends to arrest Freydis when she arrives.”

“What?” you mutter, slowly sitting down on the bed as Hvitserk turns his gaze back down to the twins. “Why?” you ask, your question making him answer you silently with a shake of his head.

Looking down at the ground, you try to think about what could have caused this onset of action from Ivar. He is, after all, your ex-husband. You know him probably better than his brothers and only one thing comes to mind; he’s found out the truth about Freydis and the father of her child.

You sigh in realization and drop your head between your shoulders. Trying not to think about what will happen to Freydis’s unborn child, you shake your head and push yourself to your feet. “I need to talk to him.”

Hvitserk grabs your wrist to stop you from walking away, making your head turn down to him. You wait for him to tell you otherwise and you’re not sure if you would listen to him or if you would fight him. He’s quiet for a moment, staring at you with a scared look in his eyes. But he sighs and slowly lets go of your wrist. “Just be careful,” he whispers, dropping his gaze to your hand as he weaves his fingers through yours.

Cupping his cheek, you lean down and press your lips to his. Kissing him deeply because you don’t know what Ivar’s wrath will be like and what he might do to you. You can only hope that this won’t be the last time you see your husband and your children.

Ivar walks to the cells with heavy steps and a heavy mind and heart. He was told that Freydis has been arrested and now, it’s time to confront her and get the truth. No more will he take her lies nor her manipulation.

The guard at the door to the cell pushes it open, allowing Ivar to step in. Freydis lifts her head up from staring at her belly and she turns to face him. “What do you think you’re doing, Ivar? What makes you think you can arrest me-”

“What makes you think you can go behind my back without me finding out what you’ve really been up to, Freydis?” he snaps back, making her take a step back and the look on her face to drop. “I am not stupid. I know that the child growing in your belly is a bastard child. It is not mine. It is the child of some man in the markets,” he states, thinking that she will give in and admit to it.

She raises an eyebrow at him and wraps her arms over her chest. “What makes you think that?”

“I saw you with him!”

His outburst makes her break, her heart to leap into her throat and her hands to fall to her belly. Her head drops between her shoulders and she takes a step back in submission. “You lied to me. You deceived me,” he sneers, walking closer to her to reach out and grab her face to make her look at him. “Tell me why.”

She stares at him, swallows deeply, and tries to pull her face out of his hold. But Ivar only tightens his hold. “You are special-” He moves his hand to her throat, glares at her coldly as he narrows his eyes and squeezes down on her neck.

“The truth,” he warns, pulling her closer to his face as he sneers at her.

She takes a deep breath when he loosens his grip a bit so she can speak. “I wasn’t going to end up with the same fate as (Y/n),” she whispers, and that’s all he needs to hear.

Pushing her away from him, she stumbles a bit and coughs slightly as to gently touch her throat. “I should kill you.”

“I won’t let you do that, Ivar.” Your voice makes him turn his head over his shoulder to find you standing at the door of the cell, behind the arm of the guard that stops you from walking in.

You had someone tell him where Ivar is and you quickly made your way here to stop him from doing something stupid. And you’re glad that you didn’t wait for him like you had thought you should.

He chuckles, rolls his eyes, and turns to face you. “You don’t have a say in this, (Y/n). You are nothing but the wife of my brother. You are nothing.”

“But I will be the voice of that innocent child,” you fight back, pointing to Freydis as you keep your gaze on him. “I will not let you kill an innocent child because of what your wife has done,” you add as you take a step forward, not sure where this confidence is coming from.

You and Ivar stare at each other for a while. He stares to try and get you to back down, but you won’t. You won’t let him murder an unborn child. Killing Freydis… Well, she is the reason your marriage fell. It’s probably not good to wish it, but you don’t care what Ivar does with her.

He sighs when he realizes you won’t back down and glances over to look at Freydis. His eyes drop to her pregnant belly for a second before looking at her face again. Rolling his eyes, he turns and walks towards you.

Stepping aside to let him walk out the cell, you wait for him to look at you. But he doesn’t. He carries on walking, mutters something to himself, and doesn’t look back. You turn to look at Freydis as you breathe out a small sigh.

She gives you a small smile, but it quickly drops when she sees the cold look on your face. “You were the one that told him,” she concludes and rests her hand on the curve of her belly. “Why would you do that?”

You glare at her, bite your tongue, and remind yourself that you can’t be rude. But you can’t help yourself. “Because deep down, I want you to know what it feels like to lose everything,” you say, making her narrow her eyes at you as you take a step backward. “But because, no matter what he has done to hurt me, he needs to know the truth,” you add, folding your hands in front of you before you turn to walk away.

Hearing the door close as you walk away, you drop your head between your shoulders and gently shake your head.

Before you can turn the corner, Ivar’s hand wraps around your arm and he pulls you towards him. “Why are you trying to protect her?” he questions, his face coming close to yours makes your heart skip a beat. “I thought you hated her. You did call her a whore.”

“I don’t care what you do to her, Ivar. After her child is born, you can make her a slave again for all I care. You can kill her. Whatever,” you whisper. Pulling your arm out of his hold, you carry on staring at him. “But if you do anything to that child, you will answer to me.”

He must say, you seem to have a different kind of attitude now that you are a mother. It’s somewhat attractive and he misses how you used to speak up to him, putting him in his place. Something Freydis never really did. She manipulated him with a soft voice. But you were never afraid to speak up around him.

And though he knows that you have no power over him if he does do something to the child in his wife’s belly, he also knows that he won’t do anything to the baby, just because you had told him not to.

“Fine. I will leave the child be,” he states, making a wave of relief to wash over you. “As for you-”

“You do not have to worry about me anymore,” you mention, taking a step back but keeping your eyes on him. “We’ll be out of your hair today.”

As you walk away, Ivar knows he’ll see you again, but he knows that it won’t be the same as this. You won’t be the same and he won’t be the same. Nothing will be the same again.

He will be alone with no wife and no heir.

You will be with your husband, his brother, and your son and daughter. Your husband and your heirs.

You will have everything and he will have nothing.

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