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ghostlychief · 6 months

Text

tomorrow will be kinder

Simon "Ghost" Riley x gn!reader

WC: 1900+

Warnings: brief mention of deaths; hurt/comfort; some fluff

Summary: When overly stressed by the calamity of your job, you find yourself pulling away from your teammates and even sometimes, your closest friends. Luckily for you, they don’t go anywhere, and patiently wait for your return. Although one person in particular, never lets you fester alone.

A/N: Hello!!! Feels like I haven't posted in awhile, so here we are. I hope if you stumble across it, you enjoy <3

-*-*-

You look down at the ground, while smoke billows around you, slightly clouding your vision. All you see are bodies caked in mud, lying motionless on the dirt path and you wonder to yourself how many dead bodies you have seen throughout your career.

How many? You couldn’t even count, there’s no point, not when it’s been this many. Maybe this was the tipping point for you. When the cold bodies that once held lives don’t bother you anymore. You no longer feel sonder creeping through your bones, making sure it covers you completely when you witness death. No, you just carry on like nothing happened. Day after day, your capacity to care and feel anything slowly drained out, and now you’re left empty and dry, wishing for relief from the arid cracks forming within you.

It's like you’re on autopilot, and have been for awhile now. After your last mission, you vaguely remember writing up your section of the report and handing it off to Price. You might have gone back to your quarters and spent the remainder of the day in bed. You cannot recall.

The days since then have gone by slowly, not much action going on. You don’t mind the quiet because sooner or later it’s going to get louder and louder until you’re back where you started: with destruction and death surrounding you, once again tipping you over.

You know you have been acting different. This has happened before, and your teammates understand why. They’re not too pushy about it, even though it seems like they ask you out to drinks or dinner more often than usual. You know they’re just worried and want you to feel included and that you are not on your own for this. You appreciate them, you really do. But they eventually get the hint that you just need some time by yourself, and the invitations stop coming. You don’t mind though, now you can finally rest without any external cacophonous noise. You only have to deal with the noise up in your head.

Going back to your quarters, you shut the blinds and lock your door, finally ready to take a fucking nap. You shut your eyes and sleep overcomes you.

-*-*-

When you finally come to, you realize you’ve woken up due to someone knocking (quite loudly) on your door. You briefly glance at the window, and there is no longer sunshine peeking through, so it must be past dinner time. You look at your watch and see that it’s almost 8p.m. You slept for a few good hours.

You rustle your way out of bed, not really caring what you look like. Unlocking your door, you mentally curse at whoever decided to come wake you, and you swing the door open more aggressively than you meant to.

When you glance up, you notice your teammate, Ghost, standing tall in your door frame, his toned arms crossed over his chest. He, for once, isn’t wearing any kind of mask over his face, which allows your eyes to dance across the scars that cover him. He has one in the hollow of his left cheek, a couple on his temple, and finally, one jagged mark near his upper lip, which has come to be your favorite scar of his. You were with him when he got it, after all.

You don’t miss the skip in your heartbeat as you admire the man in front of you, having to crane your neck in the slightest to do so.

You manage to say, “What are you doing here?” Your voice sounds a bit rough and groggy since you just woke up. You’re also pretty sure your hair is a mess too, and of course your t-shirt and shorts are ruffled in that “after nap” look. So basically, you are the spitting image of beauty.

“C’mon now, Dumpling. We both know why I’m here.” He once again makes your heart skip a beat, and you mentally curse him for it. Who is he to come here and make you feel these things? You were once annoyed by the nickname he gave you, but now, you mentally blush whenever he calls you that.

You still remember the day he designated the name for you. It was one of the first times he came to your room. He was fascinated by all of the small trinkets you had, looking around your desk and the shelves on your wall. When he came across your dumpling light, he started laughing. It’s one of the few times you’ve heard him laugh at all.

He turns towards you, a small smile on his lips, “Does that actually provide any light for your room? It’s so tiny.”

You restrain the urge to scowl at your new found friend from work, and say, “Actually, he does light up my room quite well. It’s for the ambiance.” Your tone quirked up at when you said ‘ambiance,’ which had Simon laughing again, but this time at you.

“Here, look.” You walk over and turn off most of your lights, only leaving on the string of lights and a couple other small lights. Low and behold, the dumpling light stood out amongst his companions, illuminating the shelf he was sitting on, casting a warm glow on you and Simon.

He looks so soft in the luminosity, looks so different than the rigid man you see in the field every day. You refrain the urge to trace his scars with the pads of your fingertips, so desperately wanting to trace his lips. You really need to snap out of it.

Simon acquiesced raising his hands up, “Alright, alright. I misspoke.”

You bump your shoulder against his, arms crossed, “Damn right. Never insult my dumpling light again. He’s good at his job.”

Simon turns his head towards you, “This dumpling means a lot to you, huh?”

You know he’s just teasing and you shrug, “I guess. I mean I’ve had him for years, and look how cute he is!” Your nose scrunches up as you smiled at the stupid light, and you didn’t even notice how Simon was looking at you. But if you did notice, you would have seen his smile drop to a warm grin, eyes sparking in the tender light of your room, looking at you with endearment.

When you finally turn back to him, he ruffles your hair and asks, “So, what shall we do on our night off, Dumpling?”

Your eyebrows shoot up and your voice cracks, “’Dumpling’?”

Simon leaned toward you, dipping his head down to yours so his lips were at your ear, “That’s your new nickname.”

“Oh hell no. Nope, not happening.”

“I don’t know, seems pretty fitting.” You were going to kill him.

Simon starts walking to your door, with you trailing behind him, arguing with him about his new moniker for you. Unfortunately for you, the name sticks.

You bring yourself back to the present and quip back, “To bug me?”

Ghost huffs, and decides to just bulldoze into your room without even asking. Rude. Although, he makes sure not to bump shoulders with you. Also, it’s not like he doesn’t do it often, so you let it slide and close the door behind you. You plop down on the bed beside him, a heavy sigh leaving your lips. Your room on the base isn’t spacious by any means, but it does its job while you’re on call.

You managed to get a full-size bed, which is tucked away in the corner of your room, furthest from the door. Pictures, paintings, and drawings cover the corner, making it into a cozy place for you to hide away in. String lights line your left wall, which gives the room a soft warm glow that shines in Simon’s eyes whenever he’s here. You also have little knickknacks scattered around, each one showing your personality bit by bit, almost like a trail to your soul.

You find solace within the four walls of your room, but you can’t solely give credit to it, you have to save some for the quiet, yet brooding man, sitting beside you. Your best friend.

Your shoulder rests against his sturdy one, and you can feel him breathing. You always seem to gravitate towards him, like planets orbiting a star.

The room is still quiet, and you bring your leg up on the bed and fold it, so you are slightly turned towards Simon. You bring up your other leg so it’s resting over the top of his knee. He’s wearing his favorite black joggers, and there’s a stark contrast between your white socks and his dark pants.

You trace your fingers along his forearm, trailing up and down the length of his arm. Something you don’t even realize you started doing until Simon takes that arm and wraps it around you, pulling you into him.

His voice ruffles your hair as he asks, “Do you want to talk about it?”

You shrug, and mumble, “I don’t know.” You bury your face into his chest. Once again trying to avoid confronting your problems, and instead wanting to hide away.

“Speak up, Dumpling.” There’s a teasing undertone in his request, and it almost makes you crack a grin. Almost.

He tries again, “It’s just me, you know. You can tell me anything.” His hand rests comfortably on your shoulder and his thumb starts rubbing small circles on your arm.

You let out another sigh, “I’m just tired. And overworked, and I think I need a break.” Simon waits a beat to make sure you’re done talking before he offers his opinion on the matter.

“You know, that’s completely normal for the kind of job we have, Y/N. It’s alright to want to get away from all the violence and sadness we see every day. That’s just the human in you.”

“I just feel so disconnected from everything right now, and don’t know how to fix it.” You bring your hand up to Simon’s resting on your shoulder, and intertwine your fingers with his.

Both your hands are calloused and rough, but his hands have always felt perfect in yours, his large fingers encapsulating yours easily.

“We don’t have to do anything right now to fix it. We can just be, okay?”

You manage to murmur out an “Okay.”

Simon pulls you down with him, so now you’re both laying comfortably on your bed. He momentarily sits up to tug the blanket that rests at the foot of your bed, over the you both, then wraps himself around you. You can hear his steady heartbeat in his chest, and it pulls you down like gravity, anchoring you to stay in the orbit of his warm embrace. You can feel his lips on your temple, and he places a delicate kiss there before saying, “Tomorrow will be better, I’m sure of it.” You lay like that for the remainder of the night in the company of Simon.

Simon, who never fails to assuage you, make you feel lighter and like your old self again. Make you feel human. He seemed so sure of himself that you will overcome this, so you finally believe him, that yes, tomorrow will be kinder.

-*-*-

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bullet-prooflove · 4 months

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Can you do #3- for once, you let go Of your fears and your ghosts for Beau? This made me think of him and Ally!

Tagging: @justameresimp @agentorange9595 @handsupforamiracle @lxaah11 @librarian1002 @imaginecrushes @flrboyd @nani-kenobi @areamir @b-bradshaw @adaydreamaway08 @crimeshowjunkie @shepgurl @inkandarsenic @caffeinatedwoman @tortilla-maria1 @lemmons1998 @dr-alan-grantler @burningpeachpuppy @penguin876 @deliriousfangirl61 @goosterroose @kishie8 @skyesthebomb @olymosity @@marshmallowflufffox @whateversomethingbruh @soultrysworld @@4everademigod @reneejett4 @kmc1989

Syria!Series:

Part One: Syria - You're stuck on the otherside of the world when Beau's captured in Syria.

Part Two: In Sickness & Health - Beau eventually makes it home.

Part Three: Catch 22 - Beau struggles to cope in the aftermath of Syria.

Part Four: The Bottle, The Bullet Or This... - Beau is forced to confront his demons.

Things start to change. The weight on Beau’s shoulders, it gets a little lighter. He engages more these days, takes the time to ask you about your day, to actually listen. Bottles stop disappearing from the drink’s cabinet. He shaves on a regular basis.

There are bad days too, days where he’s too anxious to leave the house, where he can’t vocalise his needs, so you give him a little space. You’re here if he needs, it’s important that he knows that.

Solomon drags him out for a run at least twice a week. The first time he barely makes it a mile but that pain he feels burning in his calves, it’s cathartic. He manages to outrun the thoughts in his head, the demons and that’s what drives him out the next time and then the next.

One evening you come home to find him standing in the kitchen, in front of the stove cooking his mother’s pasta sauce, something he hasn’t done for a long time even before Syria.

“I don’t know why but I just had a craving for it.” He tells you as he adds the chopped peppers.

The table is already for two, the good silver and the plates you use especially for guests. You can’t recall the last time you shared a meal together. It takes you back to the nights before his deployment. You’d come home from working late and he would be in the kitchen. He’d give you that smile, the one that made you fall in love with him in the first place before ushering you off to the shower.

“I’m still a work in progress.” He tells you over dinner, his hand reaching out across the table and taking yours.

You stare down at it because this is the first time he’s touched you in months and it feels for a moment that you have your husband back, that the man you love is sitting right across from you.

“Maybe I’ll always be a work in progress.” He tells you with the hint of a smile as his thumb tracing over your knuckles. “But I have never stopped loving you, I’m sorry if I’ve made you think otherwise these last few months.”

“Beau…” You whisper, your eyes flickering up to meet his. “We’re gonna be ok you know?”

He squeezes your hand, his eyes stinging because he’s been afraid up until now, terrified that he’d fucked up the only good thing in he’s ever had in his life.

“Thank you.” He says, his voice breaking as he speaks. “Thank you for loving me, for not giving up on me when I needed you the most. ”

Love Beau? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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#beau cyclone simpson #beau cyclone simpson x reader #beau cyclone simpson x you #beau simpson #top gun maverick #beau simpson x reader #beau simpson x you

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ereawrites · 3 years

Text

Hush

reiner braun x reader

warnings: smut

wc: 8.4k

summary: reiner comes home, even if part of him doesn’t. who can blame you for wanting to offer him some comfort against all the fucked-up things he’s been through?

Late summers in Marley come with a dry, constant heat, the kind that lasts well into the night. After so many months of sun warming your room, even the stone walls can't keep it cool - you've never been good at sleeping in a hot room, and that's the excuse you use to forgive sneaking away to Reiner again. It's selfish. You're distracting him from the war, you worry, for the sake of a little comfort for him and a little peace for yourself. You shouldn't do it, but you do.

"You can't tell the others that I'm doing this.", he whispers against your bare collarbone, exposed by your own shaking fingers that have undone the first three buttons of your uniform. You try to guide his face back up to yours with a hand cupping his jaw. Reiner leans into your touch, but he doesn't move, instead pressing his forehead against the curve of your shoulder. A shaky breath tickles your skin, and it tells you everything you need to know.

When he first came home, no one saw him for weeks, not even the servants who took meals to his room - you caught them in the corridors, of course you did, if only to ask after the wellbeing of a comrade. Pieck eventually pulled you aside and told you, with pity shining in dull eyes, that they were putting him through tests. Psychological evaluations. From what she had left unsaid, you supposed that they were testing his loyalty more than his wellbeing. They decided that he was their most loyal warrior, and they rewarded him with more battles to fight.

Now, trembling beneath you, in a chair hastily shoved back from the desk in his room, you can see for yourself that Reiner is fractured. He's strong - so strong, not broken, not yet - but he is struggling and he is alone, even months later. You smooth your palms over the taut muscle of his shoulders. "I won't, I swear - no one even knows I'm here.". You've been sneaking to his quarters for months; only to speak, at first, to let him know that he doesn't have to bear the burden of Paradis quite so alone.

Although, to be fair, you've never went so far as to straddle him in a chair. You don't know how it happened, really. You had started off perched on the edge of his desk, and one second you were reaching out to cup his cheek -already too far, presuming too much and breaking too many rules in the name of comfort - and the next thing you knew, you were on top of him.

His voice is so small. "They can't know. They already think I'm weak, I- I am, I am weak, you can't-"

This time, you tilt his face up with insistent fingers under his chin. Even after everything, his brown eyes are still the same: sadder, maybe, and crinkled at the corners with a frown, but filled with the very same gentleness he's always regarded you with. "You're not weak, Reiner. You've been through so much, and you're still here, and you've been so brave. It's okay to let yourself feel things - right here, right now, okay? That doesn't make you weak, or selfish."

Reiner closes his eyes as if he's in pain. "...I'm selfish for doing this - being here. I should be out there in the field instead of letting my heart distract me again."

Again, he says, and it sends a jolt through your gut. They never let you find out what happened on the island - Reiner isn't ready to tell you, and you don't know he ever will be - but you're beginning to realise that the man beneath you is being torn apart by the things that happened to him, and the things he did, and the things he's doing now.

"Rei,", you say gently, tracing your thumb over his lips as you lean your forehead against his. "If you don't want me here, I'll go back to my room, and we don't have to speak about it again... Just say the word."

He sighs. For a moment, you think he's going to ask you to leave. As much as you want to believe that you're only here for him, only here to support him and do what he needs, you'd be lying to yourself. Your heart sinks. He picks it back up again with his hands coming to rest on the curve of your waist. "I do want you."

And you're going to tell him that you want him too, but all of a sudden he's kissing you.

Your body reacts before your mind can even catch up: you thread your hands into hair that's more grown out than he usually keeps it, all the way down to his nape, half pulling him closer and half pressing yourself further into him. Reiner lets out another small sigh, deep in his throat. The sound makes your knees go weak - god, you like him so much, too much, perhaps he's not the only one being selfish here - and your legs sink down until your weight is resting solely on his thighs. His hands instantly fly to splay over your back, one between your shoulders and the other just above your ass, and his palms are so big that he's anchoring you against him without even trying.

"I want you,", he repeats between kisses, "So much. For so long."

Something possesses you to slip your tongue into his mouth. You shouldn't do it - you should let him set the pace because this is about him, and - who are you really kidding? He holds you as if he's scared you'll leave, and you kiss him harder. For a few moments, you don't think about anything other than how good his mouth feels on yours, nothing at all. Every time you run your hands over his shoulders, he shudders as if you've sent an electric shock through him.

Reiner breaks away for air and you nearly whine - so embarrassing, but you realise you don't actually give a fuck. There's something in his eyes that seems scared. Scared you'll leave, or scared you don't want him. You're about to kiss him again before you register the faint taste of whiskey on your tongue. "You've been drinking?"

"A few hours ago. I thought you weren't going to come tonight. Helps me stop thinking about you so much.", he admits with a low voice. The expression on his face is almost nervous, as if he's worried you're going to be angry with him about it, but the confession has your heart racing faster than it has any right to. This is about him, you remind yourself; you're glad that his hair is longer now, because you can tug gently on it, making him tilt his head back and expose the column of his throat. It bobs with a thick swallow when you press the first soft kiss to the hollow beneath his Adam's apple. You don't reply to his words. You honestly don't think you can without crying.

There's no need to rush this. Your body screams for you to, but you've been harbouring these impossible feelings for the man underneath you for months - since before he left Marley, if you're to be truly honest - and you need to savour this and he needs gentleness. Slow, chaste kisses peppered across his neck, his jaw, even his shoulders through the material of his shirt. You ghost your nails down his nape and revel in the way his breath hitches slightly. Somewhere along the way, you realise just how closely you're pressed up to him: your chest is pushed hard against his, hips almost flush, and he's still holding you close. There's a tenderness in the embrace that makes your heart hurt all over again.

"Is this okay?', you ask - Reiner's breaths are coming slow and deep, and you can't get rid of the nagging concern that this might quickly become overwhelming for him. "Are you okay?"

He tips his head back down to level his gaze with yours, and the warm brown of his irises has all but melted away into the black of his pupils. "I want to... touch you."

"You can do anything you want to me, Rei.", your mouth says of its own accord, and you still really don't give a fuck about how shameful your lack of control is, because his grip tightens, and he makes a face like you've stabbed him. You're compelled to wipe the expression away with a quick, hot kiss, just barely dipping your tongue into his mouth before pulling away again. "Anything to make you feel good again."

It's a struggle to wrap your fingers around his thick wrist, but you just about manage it, and guide his hand up to the next button of your shirt. It isn't trembling so much now. The slightest tremor, still, but you half-suspect that's due to the careful, gentle awe that you see glinting in his eyes. Reiner mumbles your name as he starts to fumble with the button. "I don't think I'll be able to stop myself after this."

"I don't want you to.", you reply quietly. Quickly, you come the realisation that Reiner's struggle with the button must have been feigned for your comfort, because he has it - and the next one - popped open before you can even gasp in a quick breath. His lips chase his fingers, so, so soft, trailing down each new piece of skin he exposes (when did you start burning up?) and you find that you push back up on your knees instinctively; high enough for his mouth to be able to reach the space between your breasts and, god, it sends fireworks shooting up your spine.

You hardly pay attention to the last few buttons of your shirt being undone - Reiner's lips on your chest see to that, kissing slowly, almost reverently, around the curve of your chest, just underneath each breast and then back up to your collarbones. It's only now that you recall your decision not to wear a bra. It was already late when you left your room, past midnight, and you couldn't afford to be seen sneaking around looking as though you were dressed to actually go somewhere.

Besides, Reiner has never been disrespectful to you in any way, never leered at you like some of the other men in the compound. A simple cotton button-up and slacks had seemed the obvious choice. A bolt of worry flashes to the forefront of your mind: what if he thinks you only came here for sex? He means so much more to you than that, you don't want him to think-

His hands ground you. One has slipped beneath the material to rest on your bare waist. He's just brushing the skin, and he's staring at your lips, and he looks as if he's terrified and in awe and maybe something else, all at once. The fingers of his right hand play with the edge of your shirt. He has callouses on the pads of his fingers - a lifetime of too much work and not enough gentleness. This is about him, you remind yourself. You nod, pressing a kiss to his forehead, and then another, and he starts to slip the shirt away from your body.

Reiner whispers, "You're beautiful." against your neck before he's even looked at you. "So beautiful. Sometimes I think you're an angel." An already weak protest dies in your throat when he dips his head to start kissing your neck - real kisses this time, warmer and faster and with a hint of tongue, and although it pains you so much to release your grip on his hair, you do it so that your shirt can fall forgotten to the floor. "Too good for someone like me."

Hushing him comes easily, even if hearing his words is hard - you've spent months trying to soothe him and help him with words, so maybe now is the time to show him with actions instead. Reiner is the one who's too good for you, too good for this world in fact, a world that has done nothing but abuse him. You have to stop thinking and start feeling, both of you. He actually makes a tiny grunt of protest when you push his face away from your neck in order to peel his shirt away. It's selfish, you know, to run your palms up his abs and chest when you do it, just as it's selfish to stare shamelessly at his arms when he raises them to tug the shirt over his head, but Reiner catches you doing it and, for the first time in weeks, he smiles.

"You're beautiful too, Rei. I've thought so for a long time.", you say into a kiss that's already started. His hands are at your hips and your arms are wrapped around his neck, you're so close to him it hurts, so close you feel every last bit of self-control slipping away; he pulls you closer, kisses you harder, lets your tits press up against his bare chest. You kiss him until your lips are swollen and you're panting for air. No one's ever made you feel like this: so safe and whole and damn hot with just a little kissing.

Then, you adjust yourself in his lap, and you feel that he's half-hard in his pants. Honestly, you doubt your own underwear is in a much better state. Still, you can't help the way your breath hitches: Reiner's jaw tightens, probably because of the inadvertent friction, but you feel the heat spreading over your cheeks. You both want this, of course you do, but it's still shocking to feel the evidence of his arousal. And that's without even thinking about how big the bulge felt in that one little instant.

Reiner tugs you backwards by the hips and you're scared that he's become overwhelmed. He steadies you as soon as your ass is resting further down on his thighs, though - the loss of skin-to-skin contact draws a small whine from you - and starts kissing down your neck again, leads your hands to support yourself on his shoulders, and now his hands are on your tits. It starts off fairly slow. Not quite as gentle as before but the reverence is still evident. An angel, he said, and he touches you like you are one. He claims to be a monster but he treats you so well: licking at your collarbones and kissing your neck, swiping those calloused thumbs over your nipples until they harden, pinching so gently and just right, making the breath shoot out of you in a shuddering moan. The scolding he gives you sounds entirely absent. "Got to stay quiet, sweetheart. No one can know you're here."

"I-", forced to bite your lip when he rolls your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, "Sorry. I know. Just - feels good."

"It's what you deserve."

God, Reiner makes you totally weak and he doesn't even seem to know it. His voice is quiet as ever. You always have to speak lowly when you're here, in case someone hears and they keep you from seeing him again - but it's dropped so low, and it's got just the littlest bit of rasp to it. He sounds desperate. You're pretty sure you can actually feel the dampness in your underwear now. Torn between sitting there and letting him play with your nipples for hours, and just unbuckling his belt right now and riding him in his desk chair, you're so close to becoming overstimulated and simply melting into his arms, but he makes the decision for you.

The way he leans even further down to wrap his lips around one nipple must be uncomfortable for him, he's so tall, taller than you even when you're sat on top of his thighs like this - he must enjoy it, though, because he groans lowly as his tongue swirls around it. You nearly have to clap your hand over your mouth to stifle a moan, and he clearly knows you're going to need extra support staying up, because his now free hand slides around to hold the base of your bare back. "Oh my God-", you hiss. You're almost certain you feel him smile again.

"Rei. Is it okay if I...", you manage to pant out, gesturing to the zipper of your slacks, after a few more minutes of indulgence - after seemingly being satisfied with the attention he gave one breast, he had switched to the other, making practically inaudible noises each time your hips canted against his broad thighs. One day, if he lets you do this again, maybe you'll ask him to let you get off on the hard muscle of his quads. You'd like to feel his arms around you as you fall apart.

His fingers slip just below your waistband. They're so, so close to where you need him, and your body is so hot, and Reiner's must be too because his pecs are starting to glisten with sweat. "Please.", as if he's on the verge of breaking with how much he wants you - it would sound conceited to believe, but you see the way he's looking at you, you feel the way he's touching you. It wouldn't be fair to deny him of the only emotion he's allowed himself in a long time.

Of course, he waits for you to nod your consent. Those warm, fractured, black-brown eyes swallow you up so much that your whole body is set ablaze as he slowly undoes the button of your trousers. You at least had the good sense to wear acceptable underwear, although you suspect Reiner will want that gone, too. He's seeming to grow harder with every bit of bare skin he manages to touch. As he drags the zipper down at a pace much too slow for your liking, he murmurs, stand up for me, sweetheart.

You do, in the space he makes for you between spread thighs, and the thought of being away from him right now is so unbearable, that you press your knees up against the chair to keep the closeness. Reiner looks up at you for a moment, cheeks a little red and lips a little swollen, before his eyes are on your body and your trousers are being tugged gently over the curve of your ass. The heat in your stomach grows even more intense when you literally see his mouth drop open at the sight of your underwear, and he blushes harder when your thighs are exposed; you're tensing them together to relieve some of the pressure, you realise, but Reiner's easily strong enough to get past that. He even leans down to caress your calves as he pushes the slacks the rest of the way off.

"I would have dressed up for you a little more, if I had known this was going to happen.", you half-giggle. It's been a long time since anyone has seen you like this. You're not exactly ashamed of the fact that there's most definitely a damp spot on your underwear - one that Reiner hasn't noticed, too preoccupied with kissing your lower stomach and squeezing your thighs - but it's an intense feeling, finally being in a moment that you've tried so hard to stop imagining. Reiner huffs a small laugh in return against your abdomen.

"You're stunning. In anything.", he says, just before he lays a kiss to your pussy through the material of your underwear. He must feel the wetness because he groans, too loud, and then he licks. You gasp. Even that small action feels so much better than your own fingers ever have. Visions fill your head: sitting on the edge of his desk, watching him eat you out, those huge hands holding your hips in place until the skin bruises, those beautiful eyes staring up from between your legs - he twines his fingers into yours, and brings them to the waistband of your underwear. You catch the hint right as he leans back into the chair again.

Stripping in front of him puts a lump in your throat. Rei is kind but he's huge, especially when he's spread out in his chair like that, with a sweat-slicked broad chest and thick thighs and a bulge that you worry might actually tear through his trousers, and you feel so vulnerable to do this just in front of him, where he can reach out and swallow you up at any moment. It's so incredibly hot. There's no need to put on a show. He watches you as though you're the most beautiful thing in the world anyway. You do it for him regardless, though, as well as you can. You take it slow, being sure to drag your hands over your thighs in a way that feels silly and sensual all at once. When the lace reaches your knees, his hand is there next to yours, and you take it for balance as you step out of your underwear completely.

"Fuck...", he remarks under his breath. His thumb traces absent circles over the back of your hand while he drinks in the sight of you. Perhaps it's because of the dim lighting, the room lit only by a few candles and a lamp in the corner, but you feel like he looks at you too hard, for too long, for someone who isn't supposed to care about you. Your stomach lurches and you feel your inner thighs begin to become wet. You won't take this from him, or yourself, not when the dark look in his eyes is making your pussy clench like this. He holds your hand the entire time he looks at you. "So pretty. C'mere."

Instantly, you're settling back on top of him. The fog in your mind means you don't even question how compliantly you react to his baritone. His left hand snakes around your back again to hold you steady, and you're not quite sure if your hand guides the other to your inner thighs, or if he does it of his own accord. Either way, he's ghosting calloused fingertips over the damp skin there as soon as you make yourself comfortable. "Ah- please.", you whimper.

Reiner probably doesn't mean to tease you, but you need him, you need something to touch you before you go insane. You plead with him again, saying his name this time, and he swallows thickly. The sound that leaves your mouth when he runs a finger up your slit is pitiful. He responds so well, though, repeating the action a few more times before he pulls his hand away. "You're so wet, god."

His voice is rougher than you could ever have imagined. Another clench of your pussy, and you see his eyes widen at the strings of wetness connecting his thick fingers. Your own tone comes out far too high and shaky. "You just - I can't help it, you make me feel... something, I don't know, I-", and it tapers off into a senseless whine when his fingers start to trace lines over your pussy again.

"Relax, angel. Gonna make you feel good like you deserve, I promise.". The reassurance is murmured between your breasts, where he's licking away the salty dampness rapidly collecting there - Reiner clearly wants all of you, every part of you, just as much as you want him. He keeps up the motion for a little longer, spreading your wetness around, until your clit swells up so much that it catches on his finger every time he passes over it. Each gentle bump drags another stifled gasp out of you. No one can know you're here, no one can know that Reiner's grabbing the flesh of your ass and rubbing your pussy, but he sure as hell doesn't make it easy for you.

This time, he doesn't run his finger straight over your clit. He stops moving as soon as your body reacts to the touch - he's right on the most sensitive part of you, and he presses with the smallest bit of pressure, just enough to have you grasping wildly at his shoulders for something to ground yourself on. You're so worked up that it feels more incredible than you would ever have imagined. He's so perfect and good to you, and he doesn't stop there: he begins to trace slow, steady circles directly onto your clit - your body jerks of its own accord, but his forearm around your waist is big and strong enough to pin your hips in place against his hand.

"Oh- Rei-", you moan. You definitely see his cock twitch. Maybe it's a trick of the light, but you're pretty sure you can see a considerable damp spot forming on his trousers, too.

"God. I always knew you'd sound pretty."

The rasped confession has your hips trying to buck again. Reiner's finger starts to move a little faster. The increased pleasure means you're faced with moaning too loud and getting caught, or finding some other way to occupy your mouth. You're panting when you ask, "You've... thought about doing this?"

"Yeah. Too much. I- I'm sorry-", Reiner admits as he mouths your nipples, sounding hardly sorry at all. You envision him fisting his cock to the thought of you right as his middle finger leaves your clit and pushes inside you to the first knuckle,"-I couldn't help myself, I never can around you."

"Shi- I think about you too.". Mewling, your upper body collapses so it's leaning against Reiner's strong torso, your lips against his temple, his head buried in your neck, his arm keeping you steady as he works his finger into you. Senseless blabbering is all you can manage, spilling your filthy secrets into his ear without an ounce of shame. "When I touch myself. I - oh-", turning your face into his hair when his finger catches on that sweet spot inside you, "- I think about you, I always imagine it's you, your fingers, your cock-"

His finger finally, finally is fully inside you, although Reiner is already eagerly pushing another into you; this one makes you feel the stretch, hot and full in a way that even three of your own fingers can never achieve. Shuddering, another moan of his name, clawing at his shoulders - your body welcomes him even if it's a difficulty, gushing more wetness onto his palm until he starts to scissor his large fingers inside of you, stretching you out until tears are pricking your eyes in protest of how good it feels.

"Wish we could do this where no one else could hear."-and so do you, you want Reiner to know just how good he's making you feel- "You sound so pretty. Do you... think you can take it..?", he mumbles, and you know he's talking about his cock, inside you - two of his fingers have you writhing, so the thought of his cock has your eyes rolling back in your head. He crooks his fingers onto your sweet spot right as you open your mouth, almost like he wants the risk of you being too loud and getting caught.

"Please, Reiner, I want to!", you respond a breathy whine, all of it rushing out of you at once before he can catch your g-spot again. You start to snake a hand into the cramped, hot space between your torsos. All you can think of is how good he'll feel when he's inside you. "Let me-"

"Not yet.", he groans, curling his fingers again, and again, not stopping, and he sounds genuinely authoritative for the first time. Your body goes weak, but you'd stop moving for him anyway. "Come on my fingers first. Wanna get you nice and wet before you take me, okay?"

"Fuck-", you cry. The motion on your most sensitive spot just isn't stopping, he's found where he wants to be - the callouses on his fingers are making the friction even more perfect, especially when he brings his thumb to retrace those slow circles on your clit. He keeps it steady for a few minutes - could be hours, or seconds, all you know is that it feels too good to care - and the pressure inside you is becoming something else. Reiner is taking his time with every motion, but that's exactly what's bringing you to the edge so fast. His fingers are so thick and the pressure on your clit is so good, that's it, you're starting to shake in the kind of way that leads up to an orgasm that makes you go blank in the head. You fold into the way he holds you and you let go.

Rei lets a strained grunt out. "That's it, come on, you're taking it so well. You're dripping onto my leg, that's exactly what I want, my angel.". So wet that he can feel it through his trousers, it's so humiliating and Reiner obviously loves it so much because he groans again when you start to clench on his fingers, picking up the pace of his movements and you can hear how wet you are and it must be all over his bare forearm-

"I'm gonna-", you try to warn him: he coaxes you into it, come on, please and you cum hard.

The behinds of your eyelids go white, or black, you have no way to tell. Your entire body feels weightless, grounded only by his arm around you, and his fingers must keep curling inside of you because the waves of pleasure don't stop, they just keep coming, hitting you until every part of your body is alight and molten for him, and you're very vaguely aware of your own hand covering your mouth. It takes longer to come down from it than it's ever taken you.

Then again, no one has ever ripped an orgasm that strong out of you.

"Are you okay?", Reiner asks. His fingers are no longer inside. He's rubbing soothing patterns into your inner thighs, and either your thighs are soaked or his hand is; your muscles feel like jelly, but you just about manage to support your own weight again, leaning back so you can look him in the eyes. There's wetness on your cheeks, maybe tears, and Reiner looks at you with clear concern through blown pupils. It's so endearing and sexy that you have to smile. It must relax him, given how he returns it with a soft one of his own - you notice marks on his lower lip, like he bit it to hold back a sound, perhaps.

You kiss him softly to soothe the pain, whispering into his mouth, "Can I have you inside, now, Rei?". His hands come to grip your waist hard. You know how you must sound to him: fucked out after his fingers alone, speech slurred and pitchy from the aftershocks of your orgasm, asking for his cock. And yet, he still waits for you.

"...Are you sure you want me?". You nod in response. He picks you up like you weigh nothing at all, not even letting out a breath of exertion, and your shaky legs wrap instinctively around him as he stands from the chair. For a moment, Rei just holds you there, kissing you with an indescribable, soft kind of intensity, letting you run your hands over the biceps and triceps that aren't even straining with the effort of holding you. His bed is close, but obviously too far away for him, so he places you down onto the edge of his desk. You separate from the kiss, only meaning to glance down to adjust yourself - falling off the desk would be a great way to kill the mood - when you see it.

"Oh - oh my god, the window is open..!"

It makes sense; he knows you don't like a hot room, he's kept his window open in the evenings ever since you told him that weeks ago. Why didn't you check? Everyone else should be asleep by now, but... Porco's room is so close to Reiner's, and if he's somehow awake with his own window open - you move to hop off the desk. Reiner cups your cheek in his hand, drawing your gaze back to him, and suddenly all thoughts about the stupid window disappear.

"It's okay.", he promises. "They won't hear if we're careful. I'm going to be so careful and slow with you, I swear."

God. You look down and you're reminded of exactly why you're so worked up - there is definitely a wet spot on his trousers, he must be leaking for you, and the thought of that cock slowly working you open drives you to start fumbling with his zipper. This is the first time your hands have been near that bulge and they look positively tiny in comparison. You worry if he's going to fit, briefly, but Reiner promised to be careful and you're more than ready for him. Without even bothering to fully remove his slacks and underwear - you just tug them down to his upper thighs - you're met with the full sight of him.

It's so much bigger than you would have thought, even generously, fuck; you're pretty sure your jaw actually drops when it springs free from his underwear, slapping against his taut abdomen. It's long, enough to make your mouth water, with a nice, prominent vein on the underside, but the most impressive part of him is the thickness. Even the head is fat, curved upwards somewhat, and he's leaking so much that a bead of precum rolls down his cock within seconds. You rip your eyes away to look up at him and, somehow, he looks embarrassed. You can't stand to see him like that, not when every part of him is so perfect and handsome, so you wrap your hand around his cock and begin to stroke gently.

Your fingers just barely touch around his girth. His precum slicks your palm, though, making it easy enough to set a nice, slow pace of pumping him, watching how his brow instantly furrows. "Holy shit - ah, use both hands, sweetheart, please -". Reiner doesn't need to ask twice: you spit into your other palm to offer him even more slick, then bring it to join the other, relishing in the choked gasp he makes. Even stroking him with two hands, there's so much of him you can't hold at once.

He's beautiful, you think, with gritted teeth and head thrown back. Right now, you could happily stroke him for as long as he wants, as long as he needs to spill himself all over your hands, but he only grants you a few short moments and a low hiss before he's carefully pulling your hands away.

After a kiss to the knuckles of each hand, he cups the back of your head and leans over you, bringing your back flat against the desk. "Lie back, just like that.", and your legs wrap around his waist without having to be told. There's the briefest flash in his eyes, a feral glint when you tug him closer using your thighs, but then it's gone, and he's tenderly holding your head so it doesn't rest directly on the hard wood of the desk. "Want you to look at me when I'm filling you up, okay? So I know you're okay. Can you do that for me?"

Reiner is going to fuck you, you realise. He really is going to be inside you. This isn't a dream, not the fantasy you have when you're touching yourself after returning to your own room. Reiner is above you, pumping his cock in his fist, staring at your aching cunt as he does it.

"Anything.", you whisper. He dips his head to kiss you once more, then props himself up on his elbow so he can watch your face. The first brush of his cock against your core has your hips bucking, rolling, rubbing yourself up and down his length like a bitch in heat, and he lets you do it, looking into your eyes and smiling when his cock head catches on your hole. Your ankles lace behind his back to pull him down onto you, just as his hips make the first small thrust, and suddenly he's inside you.

It can only be the first inch or so, maybe not even all of the head, but it hurts and you have to bite down on a cry of his name. It hurts and it feels amazing. Nothing has ever stretched you out so much, and you can feel yourself dripping, trying so hard to accommodate him, because your body needs him just as much as you want him; Reiner groans at the first spasm of your walls, much louder than he should be with an open window, but who gives a fuck if Porco hears - it hurts but you nod for him to keep pushing, go deeper, stretch you out around all of his cock.

Reiner begins to pant once he gets the second inch in, going slow for both of your sakes, sweat beading at his temples. "God, you're so - tight-", as he stuffs more into you, watching you whimper and watching your eyes roll into your skull, "-like you're..made for my cock, huh, fuck-"

His voice dissolves into a growl by the end. You roll your hips, all the way up off the desk, and the movement has even more of him inside you. "Oh." You moan, and you think you're tearing up again. Reiner kisses at the edge of your eyes. The sensation is so perfectly overwhelming, the slow drag of his cock as it threatens to split you open, and coupled with the sounds he's making on top of you you're in total bliss.

Both of you go on like that for a while, slowly rolling your hips against each other and stifling noises as well as you can. Marks left on his back by your nails can be hidden, and the red-hot kisses he peppers over your tear-streaked face will fade away. By the time the tight fight has stopped hurting - still intense, maybe too much, but only good - his hips are flush with yours, and he's completely still. His free hand yet again keeps your hips from bucking. You've done it, you realise. You've taken all of his cock and it feels incredible. But he won't move.

Reiner barely starts to speak before you're begging. "Does it feel good-"

"So good, Rei, so fucking good - you can start moving, please."

He doesn't need any further encouragement; the first thrust is shallow, slow, only pulling out a few inches before working his way back into you. Still, when his hips bump against yours again, there's a sharp flash inside of you and he's actually hitting your cervix, fuck, you gasp so loud that he has to muffle it with his tongue in your open mouth. He holds it there for a few seconds before repeating the motion, letting himself fall into a rhythm as you pant and sob into his mouth with each thrust, clutching desperately at his back while every thrust gets deeper. Within a few minutes, he's pulling out almost to the tip each time - only the thick head left to fill you - before slowly, slowly pushing back in.

"You're taking me so well, my angel.", Reiner praises through a ragged breath. Even fucking you slow, he's struggling to contain himself. "You feel so good around me."

"Then, go fa-faster, Reiner, please - I can take it, I promise, just-!"

His hips snap against yours like a gunshot and you're completely filled again in a heartbeat. Your cunt clenches around him as you moan, throwing your head back, and Reiner collapses onto you. His body covers you completely even as he keeps the weight off by leaning on his forearm, letting you feel the drag of your nipples against his skin when he stuffs you with his cock so quick again, he's kissing your jaw and now you have nothing to silence your cries with other than your own hand, heaving for breath through your fingers as he starts to rut into you. The fingers on your hip pull you against him every time he bottoms out, pushing his cock even deeper, and you think you feel him smile against your neck when you gasp, "God, you're so deep."

The faster, frantic pace means that the room is filled with the sound of his skin slapping against yours, especially when you ask him to go harder and stop holding back, Rei, because you can take everything he has to give you. That perfect curve near the head of his length keeps catching on your g-spot - Reiner knows how to find it, he's hitting it too often for it to be an accident, angling his hips just so and matching each of your moans with one of his own. He must get off on watching you come undone underneath him, falling apart on his cock, you think, because you feel him pulse inside you every time you brokenly sob his name.

"This what you need? Am I giving you what you want, huh, sweetheart?", he rasps and it's not demeaning or teasing, he means it, he really means it- "Am I making you feel as good as you deserve?"

A particularly deep thrust has your toes curling at his back. "'S so good, yeah, feels so good, wanted you for so long-"

Your speech is slurring from the shocks of pleasure he's sending through you. Between the jolts to your cervix, the constant pressure on your g-spot, the way his body is rubbing against your clit with each rapid thrust of his hips - his lips on your neck and his grunts in your ear - you're going to cum again, you tell him, and he shoves himself up off the desk to stand upright. The change in position has your legs falling away from his back, and you scramble pathetically to adjust your hips so his cock will be deeper again, but his hands catch your thighs and easily overpower you. Both forearms slip underneath your knees, so your legs are hanging over his arms, and his hands grab either side of your hips to slam you back onto his cock.

"Holy shit- you feel even tighter like this, does that feel good? C'mon, answer me, tell me it feels good, please-"

"Yes!", you sob, and you can't give him any more than that because having your legs raised means he's right on your g-spot: all you can do is stare up at him through bleary eyes and admire how good he looks. His abs clench with every thrust, and his arms look so big holding your legs up like that. God, you're so close, just a little more - you reach down to play with your clit but Reiner pushes your hand away and pleads, "No-" and one of his hands slips around your leg to find it himself. Of course he finds it, you're so swollen for him, and he's rolling it between two fingers before you can clap your palm back over your mouth. You all but squeal his name.

"That's it, sweetheart, that - that's it, fuck, clench around me, please, want you to cum again, wanna feel you cum on my cock-", he says. You just barely hear him through the pounding in your head and the sound of your own desperate panting, and god you want to please him, you'd do anything for him, this is all for him, remember, so even though you don't know if your body can handle it, you nod. You shove your own fingers into your mouth to keep yourself quiet, the ones that he was dripping precum over when you stroked his cock, and you let Reiner slam into your g-spot and rub and pinch your clit until you're coming again.

Reiner doesn't slow down, he doesn't stop toying with your clit, he keeps telling you how perfect you feel when you squeeze him like that - you somehow feel and hear it all even though you can't understand anything other than the fire spreading through your nerves and into your limbs, consuming every part of you as he keeps fucking you - it's so intense that it doesn't last more than a few seconds, it can't, it's too much, you're starting to drool around your fingers when you come down - and then he tells you he's close in the loudest moan you've heard yet, and you're coming again-

You come back to your senses trembling, boneless and crying with pleasure. "Gonna cum for you.", he says, pressing down on where his cock bulges through your stomach. "You did so well for me.", and it takes everything you have to reach out for him. Reiner pushes your legs down to your chest so he can interlace his fingers with yours: you're almost sure you're still coming because your body spasms under him, your throat constricting in a soundless cry, but you don't take your eyes off him. He keeps you safe in his gaze for the final few thrusts, and then he takes your hand down with his as he pulls out, and together you stroke his cock so he can spill himself all over your stomach.

There's so much, you dully register. You don't watch because you're too caught up in his face, how his brow finally relaxes and his lips part so nicely, how he looks so at peace and so happy. You don't watch but you definitely feel his cum on your body. It's all over your stomach and chest by the time he finally stops stroking, finally opens his eyes again. It's strange: he must have fucked you so silly that you think he's looking at you like man in love.

A man in love, and covered in sweat, and exhausted. You smile despite yourself. "'S heavy. Get off."

Reiner lays a kiss to your forehead before doing as you say, leaving you to close your eyes and recover on the desk. He has a washbasin in the corner, you recall, when you hear the noise of water: he must be cleaning himself off. Then, the sound of footsteps, coming back towards you. He sounds tired and hesitant when he says, "...Do you want me to clean you...?"

For some reason, you blush. You've just had sex with Reiner - for his sake, you remind yourself, to let him know that it's okay to feel things again - and yet you're embarrassed over that simple offer. Then again, you only came here tonight to talk, to offer him some comfort on a day that you suspected had been a bad one. Sex is one thing: against the rules, but forgivable, a way for him to get rid of some of his frustrations and get his mind back on the mission. That's what you'll tell them, if they ever come asking. The intimacy of cleaning each other is a different matter entirely.

But no one ever has to know. Neither of you will ever tell the others that you're doing this, right? "Please.", you whisper, and you keep your eyes closed as if it makes it okay. Your brain is still heavy and fogged, but you don't miss how carefully and tenderly he touches you as he wipes you down - such a big man, being so gentle with you even now. You wouldn't blame him for asking you to leave now. In all good sense, this was a mistake, one that neither of you should speak of again, and it's in both of your best interests to move on as fast as possible. He won't have to know when you remember this night when you-

Reiner calls your name, and you reluctantly open your eyes. It's selfish, but you don't want this to end. He must have finished cleaning you and discarded of the washcloth, because he's already changed into a fresh pair of sleep pants, and he's holding up a shirt to you. You take it with a sigh.

"I'm sorry, Reiner. I shouldn't have... I shouldn't have come onto you. I've put you in a bad position and I really am sorry. I won't tell anyone that this happened.". The words pain you to say, but you know that you should apologise, and you give him a sad smile as you pull the shirt over your head. It's only when you catch the scent that you realise that this isn't your shirt - it's his. The questioning look you shoot him when your head pops out is met with a hand offered to you.

"I... meant what I said about wanting you. Not just for sex.", he says, although he looks scared to say it. "You mean more to me than that, you know. You make me feel like I'm more than what I've done. I know it's wrong, but-"

"-it's not wrong!", you blurt, and Reiner's eyes widen like he was expecting you to agree with him. "You are more than what you had to do, okay? I promise. To me, none of that matters, because I know you're a good person at heart. All of us know it."

That little interjection is exactly what you've been telling him for months. This might be the first time he looks as though he's beginning to believe it. You take his hand, smiling as much as you can even though you're still fighting the shame of what you just did, and Reiner says, "Stay here for a few hours - please. You'll sleep better, my room isn't as warm. Go back to your room before wakeup call. No one has to know.". He leads you to the bed and he lets you hold him, and you pretend that you don't hear him crying when he thinks you're asleep, or how he whispers that he thinks he might be in love.

#reiner braun #reiner braun x reader #reiner braun x you #reiner braun smut #reiner smut #attack on titan #attack on titan smut #attack on titan x reader #aot #aot x reader #aot smut #shingeki no kyoujin #snk #snk x reader #snk x you #snk smut #reiner x reader

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Note

Writing Prompt: Soulmarks. True soulmates have soulmarks, and it surprises exactly no one that wwx and lwj have matching marks. what does surprise literally everyone is either Jiang Cheng and Wen Ning have matching marks, or NMJ and Wen Qing have matching marks.

ao3

Untamed

When everything was over, Wei Wuxian lived at the Cloud Recesses, but visited the Lotus Pier often.

Wen Ning, who’d once followed him as closely as a loyal dog, went his own way sometimes, but often came back to Wei Wuxian’s side, whether seeking help in fixing some aspect of his ghost puppet existence or just to enjoy his company. Normally, out of politeness, he tried to do it when Wei Wuxian was at the Cloud Recesses, where he was tolerated if not exactly welcome – but sometimes, he didn’t have a choice. Such as when he needed something reattached while Wei Wuxian was spending an entire season hanging out at the Lotus Pier.

Jiang Cheng scowled when he saw him.

Wei Wuxian giggled, aiming for casual and light-hearted but coming off a little anxious. “Oh, right,” he said, eyes darting between the two of them. “I nearly forgot. Jiang Cheng, you don’t still hold what Wen Ning said about you against him, do you..?”

A blind man could tell that yes, he did.

“I already said that the Lotus Pier is your home, and that means you can invite any guests you like,” Jiang Cheng said to Wei Wuxian, although his voice was icy. He put down the cup he had been drinking from, still only half-finished. “If you’ll excuse me, I suddenly recalled something urgent I have to do.”

“Aww, Jiang Cheng! Don’t be like that…”

Jiang Cheng ignored him and left.

Wei Wuxian sighed, looking after him, his face getting a bit more dispirited. He was a lively sort of person, sociable; if he could have his way, he would have everyone that he liked getting along with one another.

Wen Ning shrugged when Wei Wuxian looked at him – he wasn’t going to apologize or anything, he didn’t think he’d done anything wrong – and held out his arm for fixing.

He’d been hoping for a quick fix, something he could get done and then go at once, but there was no such luck: upon seeing the issue, Wei Wuxian had immediately been possessed by an idea, which meant he wasn’t willing to let Wen Ning go until he’d had a chance to fiddle around with it for a few days – maybe even up to half a month.

Not exactly ideal.

Still, that meant there was nothing for it but that Wen Ning would have to go talk to Jiang Cheng. Forget what Jiang Cheng said earlier about Wei Wuxian being allowed guests; Wen Ning was perfectly aware that if he wanted to stay at the Lotus Pier and not have it eventually blow up on everyone, he had to get the approval of its master.

He went to go find Jiang Cheng.

He found him sitting at the end of a dock with some wine, alone. Not exactly the ‘urgent business’ he’d pretended to have.

“It looks like I’m going to be here a while,” Wen Ning said quietly, stopping a reasonable distance away. He didn’t want to make Jiang Cheng uncomfortable – he knew that he was a weapon, and, more than that, the weapon that had killed this man’s brother-in-law, and he didn’t blame Jiang Cheng for not liking him. It had only been Wei Wuxian that he had been angry at Jiang Cheng for blaming, and he'd already vented himself on that account. More than Wei Wuxian would have wanted, more than Jiang Cheng would have wanted, but...well, it was done now, and there was nothing for it. “Is that going to be a problem?”

He was perfectly willing for Jiang Cheng to just ignore him, taking silence as consent, but instead, after a moment, Jiang Cheng spoke – only he didn’t say anything reasonable or relevant.

Instead, he said, “Did your sister ever find her soulmate?”

Wen Ning bristled. He’d known, of course, that his sister and Jiang Cheng had flirted for a while, back then – even quite seriously. But why would Jiang Cheng mention her now?

“No,” he said. “She said that her soulmark wasn’t right to be matched up with someone – that it wasn’t meant to be, but was instead only a ‘near miss’.”

Jiang Cheng laughed. It was a bitter sound.

“Why ask now?” Wen Ning asked.

“Your sister’s soulmark and yours – they’re quite similar, aren’t they?” Jiang Cheng asked instead of answering. “They say siblings’ soulmarks often are…though my sister’s was nothing like mine.”

Wen Ning was utterly bewildered by the way the conversation was going. “It was,” he confirmed, and even pulled away his collar to demonstrate – the Wen sect didn’t typically show off their soulmarks, not the way other sects sometimes did, but he wasn’t really Wen sect anymore. Anyway, he’d been running around wearing rags for so long; it wasn’t like he had anything to hide from anyone. “Almost identical. Why?”

Jiang Cheng snorted. Then he put down his drink and pulled at his own collar – high-necked as always, and Wen Ning supposed this must be the reason; the Jiang sect was another one that didn’t flash their soulmarks around. He just wondered what the point of all this was.

And then he saw the soulmark branded on Jiang Cheng’s collarbone, identical in every possible way to his own, and wondered no longer.

“Oh,” he said.

“Yeah,” Jiang Cheng said. “That’s irony for you, isn’t it?”

Wen Ning supposed it was.

He hesitated, then came forward, delicately sitting down next to Jiang Cheng. “Do you want to – do anything about it?”

He didn’t know how to handle a situation like this. Meeting your soulmate was supposed to be a big dramatic moment, a turning point in your life…and Wen Ning supposed it was, that it had been, only once again Jiang Cheng had gotten stepped on by Wei Wuxian, to whom all things seemed to naturally come.

(It wasn’t that Wen Ning didn’t understand Jiang Cheng’s bitterness.)

You certainly weren’t supposed to meet your soulmate after you’d already fought against each other time and time again, demanded his death or shouting out inconvenient truths, meant to injure in a way more permanent than mere physical blows could ever inflict.

“Not especially,” Jiang Cheng said with a shrug. “It’s like your sister said, some things aren’t meant to be. You might as well consider us a ‘near miss’, too.”

Wen Ning frowned. That wasn’t what his sister had meant at all – she meant that she wasn’t fated to meet her soulmate in this life, her soulmark only a near miss for Jiang Cheng’s; she didn’t mean that, having finally met the one fate had decreed was your counterpart, you should back away simply because you’d had some disputes in the past.

Some - admittedly very serious disputes.

Still, Wen Ning knew his sister, and how she'd been a romantic at heart. If she'd really matched with Jiang Cheng, she would have put every ounce of stubbornness she possessed, which was rather a lot, into making something out of it.

“Don’t tell Wei Wuxian,” Jiang Cheng added. “If he found out, he’d never let us rest. Especially now that he’s identified Hanguang-jun as his own soulmate, he’s gone crazy over matching everyone else up.”

Wen Ning hummed noncommittally.

Jiang Cheng took that as agreement and nodded. He swung his legs to the side and then stood up.

“Stay as long as you like,” he said, trying for a neutral tone and mostly sounding a little despairing. “I – I’ll not hold it against you, what you said, how you said it…”

Wen Ning winced. He still felt justified in having revealed the secret at that time, but it was true that he’d done it in the worst possible way, meant to make Jiang Cheng feel the worst about it. For that part of it, at least, he was in the wrong.

“…but I also don’t especially want to see you, now or ever. So don’t take offense or anything.”

With that, he turned on his heel and left.

Wen Ning stayed there with the wine, which he could now once again drink – a recent innovation of Wei Wuxian’s – and his thoughts, which were whirling and unsettled, conflicted.

After a while, he reached a conclusion.

It might not be a good conclusion, but…well, he didn’t exactly have anything else to do these days. Even Lan Sizhui was getting to be all grown up.

Might as well take a gamble.

Wen Ning got up himself and set a course for the rooms where Wei Wuxian was staying in the Lotus Pier. If anyone could help, it would be Wei Wuxian, who would undoubtedly have some ideas on how to make Jiang Cheng stop being quite so prickly and standoffish…and anyway, Wen Ning hadn’t actually agreed not to bring him in on it.

Though, doing so after having been explicitly warned would probably anger Jiang Cheng all over again…

On the other hand, an angry Jiang Cheng was much more fun than a sad one.

In a suddenly better mood, Wen Ning quickened his steps, and started to smile.

#mdzs #wen ning #jiang cheng #my fic #my fics

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mandoalorian · 3 years

Text

I Believe In Love [Maxwell Lord x Reader] - Prologue

Author's Note: *Spoilers for WW84* Welcome to my brand new series coming Jan 2021! December Magic (my first Max Lord series) will be coming to an end in the coming week and I'm finally excited to share with you my brand new series. This series will be my interpretation of what happens after the events of WW84. If you would like to be added to a taglist, please let me know! Merry Christmas everyone.

Word count: 2,000

Permanent Taglist: @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @luvzoria @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic @nerdypinupcrystal @wonderfulfluffer @kiwi-the-first @pedroepascal @castiel-barnes @honeymandos @rocketqueen @ladycumberbatchofcamelot @dybalalover10 @girl-obsessed-with-things @elena-myth

Masterlist

Previous - Prologue - Next

*gif by: @mell-bell

"I've been lying to you, I'm not a great guy. In fact I’m a pretty messed up loser guy. And I make terrible mistakes. But you... you don’t ever have to make a wish for me to love you. I'm here because I love you. I just… I just wish and I pray that one day I will make you proud enough to forgive me.” Alistair could see the plea in his father's eyes. He could see the promise. And he saw a glint of something he had never seen before. Something so genuine, and powerful. Something so beautiful.

Alistair smiled weakly. “I don’t need you to make me proud. I already love you, daddy. Because you’re my dad.” Alistair revealed, pulling his father into a hug.

"I love you so much, my son." Maxwell croaked out, his hands fondling into Alistair's locks of hair and pressing a kiss into his forehead.

Maxwell's whole life; he had wished for more. Something bigger and better. He had wished for greatness because that was something he had never had. He couldn't afford college education and he didn't have loving parents. He came from a broken home; so when the opportunity arose and he was presented with shares in oil and the potential to start his own business, he took it. He yearned to make someone proud, and after the birth of his son, he'd found that someone.

It had all gone wrong. It wasn't meant to, but it had. Maxwell didn't think he could ever be able to forgive himself for his actions and misdirections, but his own forgiveness didn't matter. He could live the rest of his life in painful guilt if it meant that his son still loved him unconditionally.

Maxwell saw himself as a monster, a beast. For who would love a broken man like him? His parents didn't, his ex wife didn't. He had no one. He needed Alistair more than he could ever know.

"Daddy?" Alistair mumbled into his father's dress shirt, salty tears pricking his dark eyes. His voice was muffled by the way he had nuzzled his face into his father's warm chest, cherishing the embrace.

"Yes?" Maxwell hummed, eventually pulling away from his son, but his hands still set firmly on Alistair's shoulders. Alistair hesitated for a moment, nervously biting his lip as his father searched for an answer. What did Alistair want? Whatever he wanted, Maxwell was ready to give it— ready to give his all. Ready to change and become a better man. Alistair took a deep breath. He had a lot to learn and a long way to go but he was finally ready.

"Can we go home?" he asked, his eyes glistening with hope for a better future.

"Yes." Maxwell sighed, exhaling and letting his entire body deflate as he interlocked his fingers with his son. Alistair's hand was small, but his grip on Maxwell was tight— like he was afraid to let go. Afraid to lose his father. He couldn't lose him, not again.

The helicopter was still in near enough distance but Max wasn't about to hitch a ride a fly home like he might've once done before. Maxwell and Alistair walked through the field hand in hand until eventually they reached the highway. Where there was once plenty of abandoned cars and trucks, the world was finally restoring back to its former ways. But Maxwell swore that he was done being the greedy, selfish, businessman turned TV personality. He wanted none of that anymore. He wanted his family, and his son. He wanted to be a good father.

All he ever wanted deep down was to be a good dad to Alistair. He never believed in himself. How could he, when he had no father figure to look up to? Nobody in his life to give him encouragement, guidance or reassurance— nothing. He had come this far on his own and it was awful, isolating and damaging. He would not let his son make the same mistakes as he did.

They passed through the highway and it wasn't long until they were back at Black Gold Cooperative. Knowing that his company was about to go bust and that he'd have to sell all his assets just so he'd be able to earn enough to live off for a few months concerned him, but it was the least of his worries right now. He reached into the pocket of his tailored suit pants and took out his car keys, unlocking the passenger door and ushering for Alistair to slide in.

"But daddy, don't you have a driver?" Alistair questioned, his fingers fiddling with the knobs and buttons on the car radio. Maxwell slid into the driver's seat and let his hands glide around the wheel as he tried to recall the last time he had driven himself. It had been a long time.

"You know buddy, things are going to be changing very soon," Maxwell said, his eyes glazed as he looked upon the orange glowing skyline. "You might not like it at first. Might be hard to understand but, I promise you that one day you'll get it. I'm never going to hurt you again and I will make up all my wrongdoings. Even if it takes me the rest of my life," Maxwell huffed out a sigh. "Truth is, I was never deserving of the fancy cars, designer clothing and big house. But if there's one thing I've learned, it's that we don't need those things to be happy."

"What do we need?" Alistair questioned curiously as Maxwell turned the key and initiated the engine.

Maxwell recalled the words spoken by Diana. "Love," Maxwell responded, like it was the simplest yet most beautiful thing in the world.

Most of the car journey home was filled with comfortable silence as Max kept his eyes on the road ahead, concentrating to the best of his ability whilst Alistair gazed out the window as he seemingly watched society rebuild itself. "So uhm, we still have the weekend together," Maxwell smiled as he pulled into the driveway. "What do you want to do?"

"I don't care, as long as I can spend time with you." Alistair grinned, a dimple appearing in his right cheek. It mirrored his father's. Maxwell took a deep breath and turned off the engine, unclicking his seatbelt and turning to his son.

"I have always loved you," Max admitted. "And I will always love you. Forever."

Alistair paused. "Can you play on the Atari with me? Mom's new boyfriend bought me a new video game and I really wanna try it out! He wanted to play with me but, you know. I'd rather play with my daddy."

Maxwell's eyes lit up ecstatically. He didn't have the first clue about video games, and in the past he would've shrugged off Alistair's request. But in this moment, he couldn't think of anything better. They sat on the floor in front of the nineteen inch television, stuffing their faces with popcorn. "Hey!" Maxwell laughed, huffing his cheeks out in annoyance. "You keep killing me!"

"Daddy," Alistair groaned out with a small giggle, prodding his finger into his father's tummy. "I'm going easy on you!"

"Okay okay," Maxwell chuckled as Alistair restarted the game. "Let's start again, I know I can beat you this time!" Maxwell grinned and pressed 'play' on the controller, his ring clad fingers pushing the buttons desperately.

Maxwell had spent his whole life trying to find his destiny and understand his legacy. He'd spent his life in pursuit of meaning and purpose— but the truth is, his purpose had been right before him this whole time. His purpose was Alistair. And right now, he couldn't be happier. Diana had let him off the hook, but that didn't mean his actions wouldn't have consequences.

The phone rang; a haunting buzz that vibrated throughout the whole house. "Can you pause it for me?" Maxwell asked, ruffling Alistair's hair. "I'll go answer this call and bring us back some more popcorn." Alistair nodded excitedly as Maxwell rose to his feet, his knees aching as he stalked over to the still ringing phone.

Leaning against the wall, he pulled it off the hook. "Hello?" he asked, curling the wire around his finger. "Who's there?"

"Max, it's me," the voice was like a ghost from his past. He felt his heart sink into the depths of his chest as he could practically taste the anger that dripped from her familiar tongue. "Bring Alistair home. You do not deserve him. I don't want you anywhere near my son ever again." she threatened before the line fell completely silent. Dead. Maxwell's shaky hands placed the phone back on the hook and he closed his eyes. He knew that he wasn't deserving of the unconditional love that Alistair gave him, but that boy meant the world to him. He had finally found his opportunity to change and become a better man— a better father. Maxwell padded back down the corridor and leaned against the door frame, watching as Alistair carefully read the words on the back of the box of his video game. Max's lips curved into a small but proud smile. That was his boy, and he wasn't going to let anything take Alistair away from him.

***

"I renounce my wish!" You had heard his voice, but only in dreams. Usually, it was soft like velvet, sweet like honey, but this time, you had awoken in a cold sweat. You pulled the blankets over your body as a chill raced down your spine. You felt his pain, his anguish and hurt. It was unlike anything you had ever felt before. Your scream alerted your mother who raced to your bedside with intentions to comfort you.

"Another nightmare?" Your mother Hesita asked you with concern. She smoothed out your hair as you wiped a tear away from your eye.

"It was him," you whispered, your voice shaky. "He needs me. I know it."

"You have found your calling?" Hestia quizzed, her voice merely above a whisper as she gazed into your eyes. You nodded slowly, never feeling more sure about anything in your life. "How do you know?"

"It is my duty," you replied softly as you looked past the skylight and amongst the stars. "Zeus made me the goddess of home and hearth for this very reason."

"But what makes him so special?" Your mother wondered out loud, her hand sliding into yours knowing that this would be your final night in her company.

"I don't know." you huffed with a tired shrug of your shoulders. It was true: you genuinely didn't know why you had been hearing his voice, letting his words and whispers haunt you over and over again. He consumed your every thought— this mysterious voice from the world of man.

"I renounce my wish!" those four words replayed in your mind like a broken record as you tried to figure out what exactly they meant. But it didn't matter. You felt his heartache. You felt his pain. And now? You were coming for him.

#max lord x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #maxwell lord x reader #maxwell lord #max lord #ww84 #wonder woman 1984

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whatupitsastarrynite · 3 years

Text

It Was Always You

A/N- HEY HEY! This was our first time writing for Coco and we had so so so much fun and we are now starting to feel our boy Johnny more. (or at least I know I am- Britt)

Cheers to Coco, the man who deserves so much more than he has been given thus far! 🥰😘😍

We also have a group chat that you can join and we will post our fic updates in that!

Thanks so much everyone! We love youuuu!!!

Imagine: You and Coco grew up together. The pair of you were the best of friends, inseparable right up until he met the woman who would eventually become the mother of his child. From there, you started studying hard in an attempt to get out of Santo Padre and into New York's best writing program. Coco on the other hand spiraled out of control, he was incarcerated and then later he enlisted into the marines. You kept tabs on him, but ultimately you focused on school. You got into the writing program of your dreams, you moved to New York and everything was perfect...so yeah, every now and then you had to ignore the voice in your head that told you that you missed Coco and should call him..but you leaned to cancel that voice out.

Every year for your parents birthday you would facetime them and send them a gift in the mail. As a huge editor to a very popular magazine, you couldn't afford to take time off. This year however, your father was sick, and you knew you needed to see him.

So you packed your bags, jumped on a plane and flew out to Santo Padre. The entire flight you were nervous and you kept fidgeting in your seat.

You had not set foot inside Santo Padre since you were 19 years old. You were in your early 30s now. So many things had changed, but deep down you knew in your soul that one thing remained the same....

Your love for Coco.

You parked in front of your parents’ home, letting out a sigh. Driving through Santo Padre, memories hit you left and right, thinking of shooting the shit with your cousins, sneaking out to smoke some weed at the outskirts of town around a bonfire.

Santo Padre held such sweet memories for you, but they were also bittersweet. You passed by the park where you and Johnny used to play as children, your love for him growing from there. You passed by the elementary school where you and Johnny held each other down during the third grade, shared lunch since Celia was the worst fucking mother. You passed by the middle school where you realized you had a crush on your best friend. You passed by the high school where you and Johnny eventually grew apart.

Coco, it was a nickname you fondly gave him, a nickname you made for him and it just stuck. You can’t even recall why you called him Coco, but here you two were now, apart and strangers. But you had to do what you had to do. Seeing Coco with another woman was hard enough, knowing they had a child? It was even worse. But in some ways, you were happy for Coco, it was his chance to have a family.

Even though your family was essentially his. Your parents adored Johnny Cruz. He was always so good with them, helped your mother whenever he was over, learned the ins and outs of car mechanics with your father. He was essentially an adopted son, but when you pulled away, your parents respectively did as well.

You were startled by the knock on your window. You looked to the side and found your father, looking frailer than usual, but a bright smile still on his face. You returned his smile and quickly got out of your car. Feeling your father’s warm embrace, it made you regret not coming home much more often. You weren’t obtuse, you knew your time with your parents were slowly dimming, it was the harsh reality of life. But you were going to make sure your father was going to be healthy so he could come visit you as he intended to later this year for Christmas.

“How are you?” You questioned as you pulled away.

“I’m fine, your mother was overreacting. I had pneumonia, it takes the wind out of you, but I’m feeling better. I even helped Coco with this car he got for his daughter.” Your father froze at his words and he sighed. “You know we’ve been talking to Coco.”

And you did, your parents were always honest with you and when you left, they rekindled their relationship with Coco. They excused that one kid was out of the way, at least they still had their other. It made your heart clench when they said that, it was even worse when your mother wanted to update you about Coco, but you refused. No matter how much time had passed, your love for Coco was still ever present, but you figured it would.

He was your first love, and you never had closure.

“Pops, thanks again.” His voice made the butterflies in your stomach go crazy, you almost felt embarrassed how juvenile it was. “Leticia should be coming in a few hours, if she gives you shit let me know.” He couldn’t see you since your father was blocking your way. As frail as your father was, he was 6′4, 250 pounds, he covered anyone.

“Coco, you know Leticia loves us, she can be like you, but we’ve done well with you.” Your father moved to the side and Coco’s steps halted, stopping at the middle of the street.

“Hello Johnny.”

Coco blinked a few times as he continued to stare at you. The expression that was plastered on his face made him look like he had seen a ghost.

Your father cleared his throat and that seemed to snap both you and Coco out of your trance.

“I’ll be inside…oh and Johnny, Selena is making dinner tonight if you want to stay. It's homemade enchiladas.”

Coco let out a tiny groan that made your stomach clench as the sound made your thoughts darken to a more impure path.

You felt the blood rush to your face- you had not even been home for thirty minutes and you were already thinking about dragging Coco to your old room.

You took another kick to the stomach as you remembered that Coco never belonged to you that way, he never wanted you that way and he never would. In the past you had hoped, but almost a decade had passed by and he never bothered to reach out.

If he had truly had anything to say to you he would have at least sent you a damn text message.

“Yeah- yeah enchiladas sounds good pops… I just gotta call Letty.” Coco responded

Your dad waved him off.

“Nonsense, she is welcomed too. It’s a family reunion.”

You bit down in your jaw and tried not to outwardly cringe at your dad. He truly was making this more awkward than it needed to be.

“See ya kids inside” He said as he walked off.

Coco watches your dad for a second before he looked back at you. It seemed the initial shock had worn off because he gave you a small smile and shuffled over to you.

“Damn long time no see chica, how the hell have you been?” Coco asked

His voice sent goosebumps crawling up your arms and you couldn’t help the warm feeling that spread through your body as you locked eyes with him.

“I’ve been good, busy… but ya know. Good…..you? What’s um… what’s a Mayan?” You asked as your eyes hovered on the leather kutte he was wearing.

Coco glanced down at his kutte as if he didnt wear it all the time. His eyebrows furrowed before he looked back up at you and huffed out a nervous sounding laugh.

“Its a motorcycle uh club.” He responded

You leveled him with a look, half of you wanted to push him for more information because he was clearly hiding something, the other half just wanted to catch up with him like the old days.

“Ah… so what’s been going on with you? I see you’re still stalking my parents.” You joked as you moved to pick up your suitcase.

Coco laughed and moved quickly to scoop up your bag. As he took the handle in his hand, his fingers brushed over yours and it sent a shockwave through your body that you had not been expecting.

You let out a small gasp and Coco just stared at you with his intense, soul piercing gaze.

You swallowed thickly and moved around his body so that you could make your way to the house.

“I don’t stalk, I’m welcomed here. I’m like their son they never had.” Coco joked back

You snorted but didn't respond. How could you when his joke had landed harder than he had meant for it to.

“So you and Leticia are close huh…I’m glad to hear that Johnny. If I’m being honest I was worried about you… especially since I never heard from you after I left.”

Coco stopped walking and his actions halted yours. You glanced over your shoulder and raised a questioning eyebrow at him.

“What?” You asked as he stared at you.

“I’m sorry you know…. for like never reaching out. I-I figured you were out in New York doing big things and uh..I–I didn’t want to bring you down so uh, I never reached out.”

Your heart clinched at his words and you turned your entire body around to face him. Your feet began to take on a mind of their own and you found yourself walking over to him, stopping only when you were about a foot away from him.

“Johnny…seriously? You were my best friend, I cared about you, I could have never seen you as someone who would have brought me down.”

Coco dipped his head and stared at the ground in silence as he took in your words. You desperately wanted to know what he was thinking, but you knew you couldn’t push him, so instead you stood there in silence, waiting for him to respond to you.

You sighed, somehow you always found yourself waiting for Coco Cruz.

Coco knew you were waiting for him to respond. But where does he even begin? He was sorry he basically walked away from you after he met Alejandra? That he was sorry that he didn’t have the balls to talk to you? To reach out to you? That every day for the past decade, the itch to call, to text you was always great, but it heightened during your birthday or the holidays? It was acceptable to text people during the holidays with no pretenses besides the fact it was the holidays, but you were too special to Coco for that.

And he was a fucking idiot.

He didn’t know where exactly it went wrong. He just knew that after he met Alejandra, you ceased to exist in his life and he didn’t even know how to make it right. If anything, he didn’t want to make it right since he spiraled out of control. If Coco was going to ruin his life, he would do it on his own, he could never drag you down with him. It would kill him, knowing he was the reason you were stuck in this god forsaken town. He got out and came right fucking back.

But not you, you were Ms. New York now.

Missing you never became easier, but it became easier to hide it. Though during the time he was intoxicated, where his inhibitions were low, he called out for you then, it was pathetic, but he couldn’t help it. You were the best part of his life and he was blinded by everything. In hindsight, he felt that he did it himself, to let you see your potential, but he couldn’t credit your greatness to him.

You’ve reached your dreams and it was further proof that you didn’t need him, that you were much better without him.

You waited patiently at what seemed like forever, but Coco finally opened his mouth to speak.

“Because after what happened, how I abandoned you during your time of need, I never forgave myself for that. You may not see me as someone who brought you down, but I did. Look at where you are now, if I stayed put, you would be stuck in this fucking town with me.” He grimaced, saying it aloud hurt him much more than he would like to admit.

“What do you mean?” You were confused as to what he was referring to. High school was tough, but it wasn’t unbearable.

“When your abuela died, I was so fucking high, you called me ten times and I didn’t fucking answer.” You couldn’t recall that day much, the only thing you remembered was your mother holding you, trying to soothe you the best you can.

But you guessed that was when things changed for you two. You began to stop relying on Coco, replying to his messages, but not going out of your way to talk to him. It wasn’t all on him, losing your grandmother was hard on you and the following years went by like a breeze. You immersed yourself in school work because you knew she wanted you to further yourself.

So you did. Trying to distance yourself from Johnny, find a way out of Santo Padre and make your grandmother proud, it was your driving force.

“It’s fine Johnny shit happens.”

“Stop that, don’t brush it off like it didn’t mean shit.”

“It’s not that it didn’t mean anything, why am I gonna hold it against you that you had a life?”

“I was your best friend, but Alejandra just had this fucking hold on me.”

“She gave you the attention you wanted, can’t fault you for that.”

“What?”

“Alejandra made you feel good about yourself, there was no pretense with her. She didn’t know you well enough so whatever you gave her, that’s what she knew about you. And she worshipped you, you were basically the greatest thing since eyeliner for her. Can’t fault you for that, you loved her.”

Alejandra did a number on your relationship. She didn’t like how close you two were, boys and girls couldn’t be friends. They could be, but Alejandra saw how you looked at Coco and made it a mission to break you two apart.

“I gave up Letty since Alejandra turned up to be the bitch you told me she was.” And he didn’t believe you then, he told you that you were just jealous because you had no one.

But you did have someone, you had him. When those words came out of his mouth, you realized you didn’t have him after all and it hurt you, but it pushed you away, just like what he wanted to do.

“I never cared for Alejandra, but I wanted to be there for you. You were my best friend, I could swallow whatever Alejandra threw my way as long as I had you, but you know, I didn’t.” The chuckle you let out, Coco could hear how forced it was, how you were trying to make light of the situation in some ways. “But, what’s done is done. I’m glad that you’re doing well for yourself Johnny. And it seems like you’re doing well with your daughter.” You offered him a small smile. “I always knew you would be an amazing father, you wouldn’t be like Celia or your deadbeat dad. My parents would have killed you.”

“It does matter, what happened between us, how much time I let pass, it should have never happened. It killed me that I couldn’t bite the bullet and just call you, shit,” Coco sighed. “You were the best part of my life, you gave me a family and you gave me a reason to keep pushing forward.”

“Let’s not dwell on the past, I’m just glad you’re okay.”

If you were being honest, you just didn’t want to hash it out with Johnny in the middle of the street. Your neighbors were nosey and it was not needed drama. You also didn’t want to tell him that your mother kept you updated on the latest happenings of Johnny’s life. As much as you tried to defer, your mother knew you wanted to hear how your old friend was doing. You knew about Celia, his daughter, and how he was doing better, to some extent. You didn’t know what the hell the Mayans were, but from what you gathered, they were like a family to him. “You live across the street from my parents?”

“Yeah, your pops helped me out with it and it was easy cause I served.”

You nodded your head. “Son they never had.” You shook your head playfully rolling your eyes.

Coco couldn’t help but look at your left hand and noticed that something was missing.

“Where’s your ring?”

At the mention of your ring your left hand clenched shut. You hid it behind your back and grimaced.

“How did you….” you asked trailing off “My dad talked to you about it??”

Coco sighed and nodded.

“He didn't mention that you broke up though… or why.” He stated

“I didn’t tell him! ” You snapped. Your ex fiance was a sore subject for you, especially since you had just called off the engagement a month ago.

Coco evaluated your body language… he knew you well enough to tell that there was a story there. He didn’t want to pry or upset you, but he also needed to know what happened.

“What happened Y/N?” He asked

“It's a long story.” You replies shortly. You didn't want Coco to find out the reason you dumped Adam. Besides, who was Coco to know practically everything about you when you knew nothing about the man he was today.

“I got time. Shit….its not like I live across the street or anything”

You rolled your eyes at his dry sarcasm as you messed with the finger that used to hold the diamond ring on it.

“It's nothing Johnny….turns out Adam wasn’t who I thought he was.”

Coco gave you that intense stare again and tgrb he smacked his lips together.

“He cheated?” Coco grilled

“Amongst other things.” You shrugged.

Coco took another step forward, effectively making the distance between your bodies smaller.

“What, is he a drunk? A liar? An addict? Controlling? Abusive?” Coco listed off all the reasons he thought you would leave someone over. He gauged your reaction for each one and then stopped when you flinched at the word abusive.

“I’ll fucking kill him.” Coco growled.

You watched his whole body transform in front of you. He went from soft and sweet to angry and murderous in two seconds flat.

You sighed as you ran a hand through your hair.

“It's over with Johnny.” You stated

‘The fuck it is!!! I’ll cut his hands off and make him eat them, then I’ll kick his ass, then I’ll kill him.“

You couldn’t help it- a chuckle escaped your lips and you shook your head. Maybe a normal person would find this declaration insane, but you knew Coco, and you found it charming that he was so upset and ready to commit literal murder in your honor.

“I’m fine Johnny, please…please just dont tell my dad. He’s already sick and I don't need him worked up over this.” You pleaded taking another step towards your best friend.

The muscle in Coco’s jaw twitched dangerously, and you knew he was still angry, but you also knew that he would keep this secret…for you.

“Fine….but lemme see this dick on the street. I’ll have him dead on the sidewalk in no time.”

You let out a loud laugh now and before you could stop yourself you threw your body into Coco’s surprised arms. Your chest hit his firm one first , and then after the shock wore off his strong arms wrapped around your waist and he pulled you to him tightly.

His chin rested on the top of your head and you both took a moment to learn each other's new bodies. You breathed in his scent, a deep cologne mixed with cigarettes and leather. You memorized it and decided then that it was your favorite smell in the entire world.

Above you, Coco’s lips brushed your head as he kissed it gently.

“I missed you…” Coco whispered into your hair

“I missed you too…” you said without hesitation.

You could feel Coco’s lips pull into a smile before he placed another kiss on your head and pulled back to look at you.

“Listen mama, I gotta tell you something…. but you gotta hear me out and promise not to get mad, okay?”

You looked up at his worried face, and nodded in confusion.

“What is it Johnny?”

He inhaled and then slowly breathed out before the words tumbled out of his mouth like a stolen train.

“"After Alejandra I…I didn’t think I would fall for anyone again….she fucking wrecked me….but the day you moved away to New York was the day I realized how badly I fucked up. I..shit…I loved you more than anyone else and I didn’t even know it, shit maybe that was part of the reason she and I broke up, because I always loved you….. and I- I still do. Ya know….love you.”

You wanted to slap yourself, pinch yourself, anything that would give you painful stimuli so that you could wake yourself up. Were you still on the plane? Was the flight attendant about to wake you regarding your arrival to the airport?

It had to be a fucking dream.

For years, you’ve had different versions of this dream, you’ve had different versions as to how Coco would confess to you. One was back in high school, another one when he came to stop your wedding and another was during your Christmas visit, which was totally out of one of those Hallmark films. Regardless, you always thought it would remain a dream. That you would never hear such sweet words come from Coco.

Coco watched as you looked at him, speechless. Dread seeped in. Maybe it was too quick, this was your first meeting in so long. Maybe you didn’t feel the same way, he couldn’t blame you. What would you want with someone like him? Even his own flesh and blood didn’t want him. He was waiting for the let down, the ‘I’m sorry Johnny, I just see you as a friend’. He felt like he was taken back to high school, to where girls made him fucking nervous. But it was the worst with you because your opinion mattered most.

Just as you opened your mouth to reply, you heard your mother shriek out your name. You turned around and caught her, wrapping your arms around her. She pulled away, pinching your cheeks before pulling you into her embrace again. Coco loved your mom but for once, he was not happy to see her.

“My baby is home.” She cupped your cheeks. She turned to Coco and she clicked her tongue.

“Johnny, cut your hair, you look so unkempt.” She sighed. “Trying to make me bring out my scissors.”

Coco laughed and shook his head. “I told you mama, I like the wind blowing through my hair.”

“Stubborn as always.” She shook her head but had that smile she always had for Coco. “Come, I prepared snacks. And don’t you even try to get out of it, I had Bishop give you the day off so we can spend family time.”

It dawned on you that your parents were trying to set up a reunion between you and Coco. While your father was sick, he was fully recovering. Your parents were such meddlers.

“I know what you’re doing.” You informed your mother.

“What am I doing baby?” She looked at you with such innocence in her eyes, it almost made you feel bad about accusing her, but you also knew your mother.

“Don’t faux innocence with me, I see you.” You playfully narrowed your eyes at your mother.

Selena laughed. “I think you need more sleep.”

The day went off without a hitch and you met Coco’s daughter, Leticia. You were grateful that Leticia hardly had any of Alejandra’s features. She was definitely Johnny’s child. Dinner was served and the laughter and conversations you all had was nostalgic. You felt like a child again, enjoying dinner with your parents and Johnny. Having Leticia as an addition was even better.

“Are you sure you’re okay with watching her tomorrow?” Coco questioned as you two made your way towards the front door.

“Not at all, as much as I want to get my nails done, I do not want to do it alone. This town pounces on you.” You’ve been gone for quite some time, you knew the people of this town never forget and they would be on you regarding the various rumors they heard through the years. “See you tomorrow Letty!”

She waved goodbye, crossing the street to go to their home. Coco watched her till she was inside. He turned to you and smiled. His confession from earlier was still replaying in his brain but you two have had no moment alone. With your parents in bed, it was just you and Coco.

“This was nice.” You commented.

Coco nodded his head.

“Yeah it was.” He didn’t want to keep you up, it seemed like you had a busy day tomorrow.

“Good night preciosa,” it was Coco’s nickname for you and to this day, the butterflies in your stomach still went wild.

“Good night Coco.”

He smiled and turned to make his way to his own home. He wanted to kiss you, to finally feel your lips against his, but he didn’t even know how you felt about him.

“Wait,” you called out, going down the few steps on your porch. “About earlier.”

“Don’t worry about it, I get it, you don’t feel the same way.” The smile on his face hurt you, it was the one he gave people to show he was okay, but he was hurting inside.

“I love you.” You didn’t beat around the bush. “It was the reason I worked so hard to leave because I couldn’t be in a place where I would have to see you be a family to someone who made it a mission to drive us apart. I couldn’t bear seeing you two together because Alejandra was right, I wish I was her, I envied her.” It felt good to let it out. “I love you Coco, I loved you then and I love you now.”

Coco froze and you watched his body transform as he took in your words. At first it didn’t seem to register with him, what you said, but then his eyes widened and a smile broke across his face making him look 10 years younger.

He let out a laugh and shook his head as he half jogged over to you. His hands came to rest on either side of your face and his thumb caressed your cheeks.

“Shit, we wasted so much time when we could have just been together.” Coco whispered

You shook your head and brought your hands up to rest on his forearms.

“We didn’t waste time Johnny, we were just getting ourselves together.”

Coco huffed but didn't disagree.

“Say it again…” He said in a way that sounded like both a command and a beg.

“I love you Johnny Coco Cruz.” You said softly while you absentmindedly traced this vein on his forearms.

Coco stared at you for two more seconds before he dipped his head and connected his lips to yours. His hands slipped down to your waist and he pulled you flush to his body while he pushed his tongue into your mouth. Coco kissed you passionately, aggressively and soft all at the same time. He took control of your mouth and he had no plans on giving it back.

Coco knew that if humans didn't need oxygen to breath, he would spend his entire life kissing your lips.

Butterflies flew in your stomach and goosebumps broke out on your skin as he traced your bottom lip with his tongue. You were trying your best to keep up with his energy but he was like a man starved.

He slowly walked you backwards, your back hit the side of your house and everything faded away. All you could focus on was Coco’s lips and how they felt so perfect against yours. His hard body was firmly pressing yours into the wall while his fingers squeezed tightly into your hip bones.

You bit down on his bottom lip and he let out a small groan. You shifted your body a tad to the left and felt a shift in the energy.

What was a simple sweet, much over do, was now quickly turning into a hot, desperate attempt to get each other in bed.

You gasped as you broke free of Coco’s lips. He tried to chase after you but you pushed him backwards by his chest.

“We need to get a room…” you laughed

Coco was quick to respond. Grabbing your hand and pulling you towards his house.

“Wait, letty….” you started

Coco ignored your question and gripped your hand tighter. He walked faster and you struggled to keep up.

The next thing you knew you were standing in Coco’s living room.

“LETICIA- I need you to leave. Go hang out with Gabi.” Coco yelled

You heard Letty open her door and listened as her footsteps made their way to the living room.

“Oh great, your having sex…. just use protection. You don't want another me.” Letty said before she smiled at you and brushed past her father.

She shut the door and left you and Coco in silence. A nervous energy washed over you as Coco leveled you with a look that sent your libido into hyperdrive.

“You sure about this?” He asked

You rolled your eyes, still surprised that he was questioning your intentions. You wound your arms around his neck and pulled him closer before you smiled.

“I’m 100% sure Coco.” You whispered before you brought his lips back down to yours.

Coco lost himself in you.

Years of longing, wanting, loving, it was all coming down. He was able to push all of this for years, fucking bitches didn’t require anything, just his dick to be hard. But with you, it was different, of course it was. He didn’t want to just devour you, he wanted all of you. The cries of pleasure, the feeling of your body in one with his, he wanted it all. He always imagined how it would be to kiss you, to be with you.

This was knocking every expectation out of the park.

He’s never made love to a woman before and he knew if he ever did, it would be with you. For years, he wanted to contact you, to swallow his nerves, his fear, his pride, but now, the wait was well worth it. You were right, you were working on yourselves and now, he would never let you go.

He pulled you closer to him, one hand cupping your face, while the other rested against your hip. You couldn’t believe this was happening, whatever you imagined before, this blew it out of the water. You never felt this when you kissed your ex-fiance. This was something else, something more.

Coco lifted you up, carrying you to his bed, gently, he placed you down and reluctantly parted with you. He looked at you as your chest rose up and down, letting the oxygen trickle in once more. Removing his clothes, he left his boxers on, making his way over to you, causing you to move back on his bed. He wrapped his fingers around your ankles, pulling you towards him.

“These leggings are going to fucking kill me.” His hands moved up and down your legs, shivers going down your spine. You were wet, you’ve been wet, but the way Coco’s voice dipped a lower octave, the way his hand was just hovering over your clothed core, you wanted to scream. But you didn’t want to rush through it. You’ve only had a handful of partners and you knew Coco was the far more experienced one.

He pressed two fingers against your clothed center and you let out a low moan, which in turn made him moan.

“Fuck, I’m never going to get tired of that.” Coco’s fingers went to the waistband of your leggings, pulling them down. He threw the article of clothing behind him while you took off your shirt. His eyes roamed around you, taking in every part of you. It made you flustered, flushed, and scrambled to cover yourself. He smacked your hands and made a ‘tsk’ sound.

“Don’t let me admire my girl.”

You smiled. You were nervous, this was Coco. This wasn’t anyone else, this was Coco.

“Hey, don’t overthink it, just let me make you feel good ma.”

He crawled over to you, hovering above you, he kissed you once again, his hands were all over you. Wherever he touched, your skin burned in the most delicious way. He slipped his fingers under the band of your underwear, teasing your aching pearl before slipping a finger inside you. Moaning into his mouth, you arched against him, one hand caressing his cheek, while the other slid down his stomach and inside his boxers. He groaned against your lips as you wrapped your hand around his cock.

“Fuck princesa,” you took your hand out of his boxers, spitting on it before putting it back inside, sliding your hand up and down his cock just as he added another finger inside of you.

“Fuck Coco, that feels so good.” Your ex hardly provided foreplay. He lubed it up, condom on, and you two fucked. No emotions or regard for you, it was just sex. But this, this felt so much better.

“Yeah, that pendejo didn’t know how to pleasure you?”

You shook your head, you let out a breathy gasp as his thumb made contact with your clit. You clenched around him and it didn’t take long for him to get an orgasm out of you. You whimpered, moving your hips down to meet the thrust of his hands. Before long, you were both naked, Coco slipping on rubber.

He tapped his cock against your folds, the tip hitting your clit. You looked at how well endowed he was, which almost made you laugh. You always thought Coco was gifted, but to confirm that suspicion? It was fantastic.

“You ready preciosa?”

You nodded, never more ready for anything. He bent down and kissed the tip of your nose and then he slowly pushed the head of his dick into your wet, awaiting folds.

You let out a low, broken sounded moan. Seeing Coco’s dick had been one thing, but feeling it as it stretched you out almost to the point of pain was a completely different experience.

Coco’s left hand grabbed onto the sheets by your head and he clinched them while his other one stayed firmly on your hop- helping to ease him in without hurting you.

He was so close to bottoming out, but before he could fully set himself in you, bubbles of laughter started coming out of your mouth.

Coco moved his head so that he could look at you, his body hovered over yours and he froze, mid stride, with his dick more than 80% of the way in you.

"What?” He asked

You laughed again and pushed Coco’s stray hair behind his ear.

“My mom was right, you do need a haircut.”

Coco tsked and shook his baby hairs out of his eyes.

“Don’t be jealous because my hair is more luscious than yours.” Coco joked back

You laughed some more and Coco took this opportunity to push himself the rest of the way in you. Your laughing faded off and turned into moans and despite trying his best to make this all night, he couldn’t stop the quick pace he had set from happening.

His senses were overwhelmed by you, he wanted to fuck you deep and slow, but he also wanted to fuck you hard and quick. He wanted to kiss your lips, but he also wanted to kiss your neck and map out your entire body with his mouth. He wanted to intertwine his fingers in your hair and pull just enough for it to sting but not too hard to where it pulled out your roots, but he also needed to touch every part of you.

There wasn’t enough time.

He wanted all of you- he needed all of you but the way your warm heat wrapped around his dick and pulled him in was intoxicating him more so than any drug he had ever used.

“Fuck! You feel so good. I’m never letting you go again.” Coco said into your ear.

His breath ghosted across your skin but you were too blissed out to respond. One of your hands found their way into Coco’s thick hair and the other gripped tightly onto his forearm.

Your body bounced softly as Coco rammed into you. He kept pounding your G-spot over and over again to the point where you were now seeing stars. Your moans were now just whispers, and all you could say was Johnny over and over as if you were praying to him.

He lowered his head down and caught your lips with his. He kissed you once before you broke apart and simply breathed each other's air. Your lungs were burning and your breaths were coming out ragged.

Your orgasm was quickly approaching, and despite never having sex with you before, Coco knew you were right there on the edge.

He gripped your body tighter and forced himself to slow down his thrusts.

As he did, you let out a needy whine which caused Coco’s heart to melt. Seeing how much you needed him was all he ever wanted from you. Selfishly, he wanted you to need him so that he could always be apart of your life

“Don’t worry preciosa. I got you.” Coco whispered.

His next movements were smooth and calculated. He pulled himself all the way out and before you could complain, he grabbed your legs and roughly flipped you over onto your stomach. His hands found your hips and he yanked them upwards so that your ass was sticking out and your head was down.

You glanced over your shoulder and locked eyes with Coco as he pushed back into your pussy. He let out a groan and your head fell back onto the bed. You gripped the seats as the muscles in your stomach clenched.

You were so close, so fucking close you just needed–

Coco knew what you needed. Fuck he always knew. He moved his body so that it draped over you more, and his long arm reached under you and his fingers found your clit. He began to rub on it and press down on it while he fucked into you with a precision that was blinding you.

Your body was overheating and shaking, your mouth was spilling Coco’s name along with a stream of cuss words and you knew that if you didnt come soon, you would die from overstimulation.

Coco let out another moan and he wrapped his free arm around your waist and yanked you up, making your back flush with his chest. The new angle caused you to let out a louder scream. Coco pressed on your clit harder and started licking at your neck.

It only took two more thrusts before your body broke. Your legs shook so badly that they threatened to give out on you, your moans suddenly cut off and your breath left your lungs. Stars exploded behind your closed eyes and you realized that this is what they talked about when people said orgasms were like little pleasure bombs.

Your body was lit up with ecstasy and you rode it for as long as you could before your limbs went numb and refused to hold you up and longer.

Coco eased you down onto the mattress, still on your stomach. He pushed your legs together and straddled you as he gently pushed on your lower back and fucked in and out of you.

“Shit Y/N. This pussy is addictive.” Coco groaned out

You pushed your ass back as best as you could- attempting to meet Coco’s rough thrusts head on. Based on the way he was moaning and cursing you must have been doing a good job, so you kept doing it until you felt his thrusts becoming shaky and uneven. The fingers on your back dug into your skin causing you to hiss in pleasure.

You turned your head to the left and let out some breathy moans.

“Johnny…I… I need you to come for me. Come for me please.” You begged

“Fuuuuck, you’re sinful as shit and I love it.” Coco groaned out.

He thrusted into you a couple more times before he stilled.

You couldn’t feel his seed due to his condom, but you could feel his dick pulsing in you and your needy walls contracted around him, begging him to rip that stupid condom off and fill you properly.

After a couple of minutes, Coco gently pulled out of you. You slowly rolled over and groaned as your back popped slightly.

You tracked Coco as he made quick work of peeling his condom off and taking it to the trash can in the corner of his room.

You sat up on your elbows and admired him from afar. You cataloged every tattoo and vowed to ask him the story behind each one.

“Imma add today’s date to them…” Coco said as he caught you staring.

“To what?” You asked in confusion as he made his way back over to you.

The bed dipped as he climbed on it and crawled in between your still shaking legs.

“My tattoos. I’m getting today’s date tattooed on me.”

“But…why?” You laughed out

Coco smirked and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips.

“It's the day you and I changed forever. The day I got to be with my true love. Why wouldn’t i want that on my body as a reminder.”

#mayans #mayans mc #mayans fandom #mayans fic #mayans fanfic #coco cruz #johnny cruz #johnny coco cruz #coco cruz x reader #coco cruz fanfiction #coco cruz imagine #whatupitsastarrynite

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shiversdownyerspine · 3 years

Text

13. Affecting

Soon...kisses. Lip locking. SOON.

A couple of weeks pass after the reveal of your 2nd Phase and the acceptance of your request. And during that time the brothers make good on the agreement; they touch you, hands stroking your upper arm in greeting, lazily sweeping up and down your back, or simply resting a warm palm at your lower back when you linger a little too long in one spot.

With each passing day it gets harder and harder not to notice the sensual subtleties, not to mention the kisses don't stop either, lips pressing to cheek and shoulder and temple and forehead.

If you're in the kitchen baking, Axel will often be at your side. Whether sitting at the table or leaning back against the counter with cookbook in hand, you very much appreciate his quiet company and often return the favor when he cooks. The two of you have taken to discussing recipes and one day as you are busy preparing some chocolate croissants, he describes one familiar to him; Pirog, a baked good with savory filling.

The croissants were nearly ready for the oven, all that was left was one final pastry to prepare. Rolling the dough nice and tight to enclose the chocolate within, you muse aloud, "I've never made Pirog before, wonder what sort of filling would be good..."

The eldest brother takes a moment to consider before listing several, but according to him, "Fish is the best choice."

With a straight face you insist beef would be the better option, far more superior. And with little warning his heat was seeping into your back as his hands braced on the kitchen counter, arms either side of your body. Heartbeat quickening and ears reddening, you fumble with the pastry in your hands as he challenges your claim with a playful, "Is that so?"

Understandably a bit flustered, it takes you a second to successfully retort, "It would absolutely taste better, you just don't want to admit it."

Who knows, maybe you can goad Axel into making them.

The lighthearted bickering bounces back and forth until the warmth of his breath ghosts the shell of your ear. You hold strong, determined not to break but the brush of lips to your ear nearly makes you squeal.

The sound of the oven finishing its preheat cycle saves your skin.

Axel lifts the tray as his other hand leaves the curve of the counter to casually stroke up and down your side before he moves from you to pop the pastries in the oven. Immediately your hand is up and rubbing your sensitive ear, cursing the way it tingles. Taking a steadying breath, you still stumble over your own two feet as you go to grab up the mixing bowl and utensils for a good scrubbing.

Oscar sneaks up behind you like always, but he's started tugging you into him. The first few times his arms curl low around your belly and your back meets his chest, you're a bit tongue tied and bashful. But you don't want him to stop and it isn't long before you start leaning back into his hold. It becomes a part of his sneak routine and eventually it's not as startling as it used to be. It still has a high chance of pulling a gasp from you though, which you are highly suspecting he likes.

Sometimes when you're sitting on the sofa reading or watching television, the youngest brother would plop himself down on the carpet next to you. Curious you had considered asking if he wanted to join you on the furniture, but in the end decided not to. You figured if he wanted to, then he would. No need to ruin harmless fun.

And in the name of harmless fun, every now and then you would lightly nudge him with your leg, eyes riveted to your book and unmoving each time Oscar looks at you. It doesn't take long for him to wrap his arm around the offending leg, and satisfied with his capture, he'd lean his head back against the sofa cushion and rest his eyes. You do it again and again until eventually, he just starts automatically wrapping an arm around your leg whenever he sits with you.

Once while feeling mischievous, you had grabbed up a throw pillow as the urge to smack the catnapping man with it grew too tempting. The gentle pressure of a hand squeezing just above your knee had you glancing back with wide eyes to see him very much awake and watching you. The intensity of his gaze, the fixation, brought about this feeling. It was the same one you had when you'd sprayed Axel with the garden hose. You were once again on the verge of biting off more than you could chew.

Innocently you placed the pillow on your lap, using it to prop the book up a little higher. He gave you a suspicious squint before settling back down, leaning in and pressing his mouth to your leg with a smirk. It almost felt like he was daring you to do it, just to see what would happen.

Otto also likes to join you when you're on the sofa. One evening the large man brought out a small sewing kit and one of his shirts. Apparently he's the one that patches up all of their clothes when the need arises. He doesn't like throwing things out when they just need a little care.

Appreciating his resourcefulness, you mention that you'd tried your hand at patching up your own clothes in the past but you didn't quite have the patience for it and gave up fairly quickly. Subsequently, your request to watch actually had little to do with learning the skill and more with wanting to see how dexterous his hands are.

Otto shifts position so you could see better as you scoot in close. He works deftly with needle and thread, your eyes following the practiced motion of his fingers. As he tends to the stitches, he talks. His voice is a pleasant murmur as he explains that his brothers, much like you, haven't much patience for the skill either. They can do a little in a pinch but they wouldn't enjoy it.

You cheekily comment how easy it is to imagine the two; Axel scowling as he focuses on accomplishing the task as quickly as possible, tidy stitching be damned. Or Oscar's frustration growing, fit to burst as he pricks his finger for the umpteenth time. The descriptions tickle his funny bone, his smile growing until teeth glint and eyes crinkle. Shoulder to shoulder and knee to knee, you lean into Otto's side as the conversation eventually lulls into a comfortable silence, his warmth pulling you into a light doze.

Within a few more minutes the holes have been properly mended and the mender rubs his thumb over the line of stitches, content. When the tallest Swede softly calls your name, your response is a mumble, more of a sound than actual words. There's no other movement from you so he takes the chance to press a light kiss to your head, breathing in a whiff of your hair as he lets you nap and considers joining you.

Towards the end of the week as you're making a grocery list for a trip to the market, the Commission finally contacts the Swedes. Tapping the pen against your bottom lip, you and Axel contemplate your list of goods on the table below you, "Milk, eggs, bread..let's see...seasoning! How much black pepper do we have left?"

Axel inspects your spice rack with a critical eye, "...Won't last long, a week at most. Maybe."

The eldest Swede places the pepper back in its place before lifting a little corked jar beside it, "Cinnamon too."

As you are adding the crucial items while Otto alerts you to your pantry's dwindling supply of flour, the unexpected clatter inside your cabinet draws attention. Oscar retrieves the canister, rolling it down the kitchen counter to his brother before walking to you. With a grin he scoots you into Axel as he squeezes in on your other side, pressing his arm at your back to trap you between them.

Cheeks pink you toss a look at Oscar who is busy peering past you at the paper being examined by his older brother...but he isn't too busy to let his hand playfully squeeze your side apparently. Otto joins the three of you as Axel tilts the paper towards you for you to see as well, the message short and to the point. It reveals the usual; the date, the target, the co-ordinates, and the rendezvous point.

"So the access point is...the abandoned bus stop beside the forest? I forgot that little shack was still standing."

Otto nods, "We know it."

You respond, mildly surprised and a touch remorseful, "Oh, Commission dropped you all off down there? If I had known I would have gone out to meet you three when you first arrived."

Axel grunts, "Wasn't a far walk."

Smiling you nudge him with your hip, "Well, I hope it was a pleasant one."

Turning your attention back to your shopping list you reassure the three, "Alright I can finish up with this if you all want to start preparing for your mission, I figure you'd want to get to it. I don't have any deadlines to worry about for my work, but I doubt that's the same for you three."

The youngest Swede pouts, "You don't want to help? With guns?"

And just like that you're on edge, frowning as your body stiffens. Your silence lasts just a little too long.

"...That's..not my area of expertise."

Axel grimaces, peering at you closely, "Never learned? For protection?"

Remembering that the grocery list is in your hands, you restrain yourself from clenching them and crumpling it, "I already have a way to protect myself."

"You want to hide. A gun will give you another way to protect secret."

He has a point. A good point. Regardless you can't imagine holding a gun let alone firing one without your hands shaking like a leaf in a storm. You just can't. So, you try to compromise, "Maybe I could use one in the future. The far, far future."

Glowering at the table, Otto tries to recall a previous conversation. An old memory, a desperate kill..bullets and blood. Ah. You'd been shot, possibly repeatedly? The tallest Swede shares his conclusion, "You're afraid of guns."

With a sigh you shortly acknowledge it, "I have my reasons. Anyway, caring for your firearms is going to have to be solely your responsibility. Sorry to disappoint."

Lifting your grocery list up you consider any missing items you may have forgotten. Something is nipping at the back of your mind, something that had popped into your head after Oscar had gotten chased out into the garden by Otto and the two roughed each other up...Oh! Your eyes drift up to Axel.

"...How often do you three get injured? Or...smack each other around? Actually don't answer that, I'm going to go ahead and add some first aid on here."

You scribble it down, look at the scars on the two older brother's faces, and firmly circle it.

Yeah, that's going to be a priority.

#tua The Swedes #Axel x Reader #Otto x Reader #Oscar x Reader #Ikea Mafia #The Swedes #tua Swedes #the swedes x reader #umbrella academy swedes #tua Axel #tua Otto #tua Oscar #ikea mafia

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vrishchikawrites · 3 years

Text

Novel quotes that were sitting in my drafts and my thoughts

It is canon that JC’s own people are afraid of approaching him with their concerns. The people of his territory don’t approach the Jiangs for help unless the matter is deadly. This is supported by novel text. This is the state of YungmengJiang after it is one of the remaining three great sects, an economic, political, and martial powerhouse.

Ch 92 - Longing Part 3 (Exiled Rebels translation)

The owner, “That I’m not so sure about. Anyways, the temple’s quite popular. In Yunping City, no matter what someone runs into, we’d all go there and pray for the Guanyin’s protection. I sometimes go there and light a few sticks of incense too.”

Wei WuXian asked, “Then why don’t you go find the cultivational sect that’s in charge of this region?”

He only remembered after he asked. Wasn’t the cultivational sect in charge of this region precisely the YunmengJiang Sect?

Yet, the owner curled her lips, “Go find them? How dare we?”

Wei WuXian, “Oh? Why not?”

The owner, “Young Masters, you’re not from Yunping City so you don’t know. The Jiang Sect is responsible for all of us along the Yunmeng area. The Sect Leader’s got quite a bad temper. It’s almost frightening. His subordinate’s said so a long time ago. Only one sect is in charge of such a large area. Each day, there are almost a hundred cases of small ghosts or other creatures pulling pranks on the living and all that. If every single small thing had to be dealt with immediately, would there be enough time and energy? Those that don’t kill anyone aren’t malign spirits, and we’re not supposed to disturb them with trivial matters that aren’t malign spirits.” She complained, “What is this supposed to mean? Wouldn’t it be too late if we waited until somebody’s died to find them?!

No way would WWX let a his sect be actively feared by people they are supposed to protect.

There are a few other examples that I can’t really spend time to find. There was no lack of economic resources at this point. I don’t think there was any sort of disadvantage even after the SSC, because they would’ve gotten back their money after it and divided Wen assets among themselves. Yungmeng would have gotten a fair share of the plunder because it was one of the main sects active in the war.

JC had every opportunity at this point to say, ‘look we owe these particular Wens a life debt.’ That’s all he has to say to have honor on his side. They don’t need to risk anything because even JGS wouldn’t be able to say anything against a debt of honor. NMJ and LXC would both support him.

JGS was only able to get so far because JC played right into his hands. There are several scenes with JC letting his anger and envy get the best of him. One in particular, where some cultivators gossip that people only joined YunmengJiang because of WWX and his power. JC refused to speak up as a direct response to that.

(WWX has already proven he doesn’t forget about debts)

That very same conversation indicates that by the time Pheonix Mountain situation happened, YunmengJiang was already in a good position. JGS didn’t take advantage of YMJ’s economic and martial weakness (the text indicates that they were sufficiently recovered by this point if i’m not mistaken). In fact, YMJ received a big influx of seasoned cultivators just after this incident and before WWX’s defection. He took advantage of JC’s insecurities and his willingness to cast WWX aside if it benefited his sect.

Jin GuangShan, “Sect Leader Jiang, Wei Ying is your right-hand man. You value him a lot. All of us know this. However, on the other hand, it’s hard to tell whether or not he actually respects you. In any case, I’ve been a sect leader for so many years and I’ve never seen the servant of any sect dare be so arrogant, so proud. Have you heard what they say outside? Things like how during the Sunshot Campaign the victories of the YunmengJiang Sect were all because of Wei WuXian alone—what nonsense!”

Going further back, my original point was - there was a foreshadowing of their ideological differences way back in the Dusk-Creek mountain incident.

Ch 52 - Courage Part 2 (Exiled Rebels translation)

Wei WuXian, “It’s alright if he hates me—I don’t hate him. I’ll get him onto my back the second I get hold of him. Could he possibly choke me to death while on my back?”

Jiang Cheng warned, “We aren’t even able to care for ourselves; how do we have the time to care about the trivialities of others?”

Wei WuXian, “First, this isn’t a triviality. Second, things like this, somebody will have to care about them, sooner or later!”

WWX’s first instinct is to help people. JC’s first instinct is to protect themselves. This keeps on happening again and again.

When they returned to the Lotus Pier, JC scolded WWX for trying to play the hero and was scolded by his own father to reconsider the words. (This wasn’t favoritism, this was a dad telling his son that scolding someone for saving people’s lives isn’t the right thing to do and he should consider his words)

Both of these incidences are just few of the many examples scattered throughout the novel. These are possibly the earliest indications of their ideologies being materially different. WWX would be an excellent second hand but he’s no Wen Zhuliu. If his leader doesn’t live up to his expectations of morality and righteousness, he isn’t going to stay. He may linger for a long while but eventually he’ll start to feel complicit and would want to take a different path. He fell in love with LWJ because LWJ was righteous and morally superior to others in the novel, after all.

So to conclude - JC actually didn’t want to help the Wens, text clearly states he hated them. This man planned and lead a siege even after seeing a small child at the BM.

YMJ wasn’t actually in that bad a state. It was recovering but so were the Jins. They didn’t get away from the war unscathed. YMJ had money and several new, trained cultivators.

Bear in mind, during their staged fight, JC gutted WWX while WWX broke his arm. As in, his intestines legit fell out. The fact that he recovered quickly doesn’t matter. It was a near fatal wound and WWX has very few resources at his disposal. He was living in near poverty. That trip to the BM is a grace that JC could give without spending too much effort.

idk if I have expressed my point properly. But it covers as many points as I can recall off the top of my head. Unless JC’s character changed in some significant ways, I still think they would eventually have a falling out. The are examples littered throughout the novel about their core ideals, their very character clashing in significant ways.

#anti jiang cheng #repost on the side blog

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wondernimbus · 4 years

Text

a ghost story — cedric diggory

pairing: cedric diggory x female!reader

prompt: the thing with love is that it doesn't matter who it’s between; even if it's between someone who’s alive and someone who isn’t.

t/w: mentions of death

a/n: ahhh probably not gonna be able to post as much as i used to anymore bc i’ve been spending too much time on tumblr & social media DDD: anyways yay cedric

If you wander the halls of the Hogwarts castle, it's likely you'll come across a translucent figure or two, some eager to talk to you and others who won't even bat an eye.

Ghosts. Some have been around for decades, others for entire centuries, but many have aimlessly roamed the grounds for so long no one really knows—or cares—where or when or how they died. There are those that are bitter and hold incessant grudges; they wander through walls, angrily uttering empty threats under their breaths that they have long since lost the ability to truly carry out. They are ghosts after all; mere imprints of the departed soul, according to the usual textbook, and there are a variety of things that they can no longer do that they once were able to when they were alive.

Take the young Hufflepuff ghost, for example, who died at the young age of seventeen, long before she could truly live her life beyond the school walls. Before she could graduate or find love or do whatever was on her agenda.

That in itself is a tragedy. But if you happen to come across her in the castle—because Merlin knows she is always, always wandering, never in one place at one time—you will see that the last thing she seeks is vengeance.

Quite the opposite, actually.

—

There were times when [Y/N] regretted choosing to stay.

Times when she drifted through the corridors of Hogwarts and found herself wishing she’d left all of it behind and moved on to the afterlife—no matter how uncertain the idea of it seemed—instead of having to live every single day watching students go about talking and laughing and living the life she never got to live.

It could have been torture; watching them grow from timid, wide-eyed children oblivious to the workings of the world, to reckless teenagers who took every moment they had for granted, to slightly more mature versions of themselves, ready to venture out into the world beyond them and go down whichever path they wanted to. Become an Auror, maybe. Or a Healer. Start a family, grow a business, explore the world.

It could have been torture.

But that was only depending on which way she looked at it. She could have looked at those very same students and seen a life she never got to experience. But she could have also looked at each of them and seen a life she could experience over and over with each new batch of innocent first-years—and yes, it wasn't her life to live, per se, but wasn't that the magic of it all? To watch from the sidelines and witness them grow and blossom and do as much as they could with the life they'd been given?

So yes—there were times she regretted choosing to stay—but there were also times she was grateful she did.

It was the little things like whenever she spotted a lost first-year and helped him find his way. Or when she roamed the corridors and earned waves from friendly students. Or when she told them stories like the one about the Bloody Baron and Peeves fighting and the other ghosts having to break them up. (It was a story that she told quite often, but one they—especially the children—never got tired of.)

And in exchange, they told her stories. Who was dating who. Who broke up with who. Who might be breaking up with who. She'd become a friend to many students; a listening ear, albeit a translucent one.

But the catch was obvious: those students had to leave eventually, and [Y/N] had to stay.

It was sad, at first, having to bid farewell to her friends when they graduated. But it had been a hundred years and [Y/N] had grown used to it. The knowledge of forever being stuck at seventeen while they got to age and marry and do as much as they wanted to with the rest of the time they have.. well, it didn't quite hurt as much anymore.

It shouldn’t hurt when she had to say goodbye. At least not anymore, when she'd been doing it over and over for the last century.

So it shouldn’t have hurt—the idea of losing him. He was just one of the thousands of students she'd met, after all. Just one more person she had to let go of.

It really shouldn’t have hurt.

But it did. And [Y/N] may have been a ghost, but she wasn't dumb, so it didn't take her long to figure out that it hurt because she'd fallen in love. It was a very stupid move on her part, given that she was a bloody ghost and he was very much alive and human, but. Well. Love was love—no matter who it was between.

—

[Y/N] remembers Cedric when he was just eleven years old, young and energetic and a little naïve.

He was one of the nicer ones, if not the nicest. (Because of course there were those that weren’t as open to the idea of befriending a lonely Hufflepuff ghost; why bother talking to someone dead?)

Cedric had strayed away from his group of first-years to approach her by the staircases. She’d been hovering above the banister, watching them fondly—a little longingly—until he came up to her, beamed with a blinding sort of brightness, stuck his hand out, and then said, “Hi, it’s nice to meet you!”

[Y/N] had stared at him, slightly surprised. Usually it was the first-years that took a little longer to befriend, given that most of them had grown up believing ghosts were to be feared, but every few years or so there’d be someone like the little eleven-year-old boy in front of her whose name she did not yet know, eager to make friends—even with a ghost.

”Hi there,” she’d said, own lips quirking up into a small grin as she stared down at him. “Are you sure you want me shaking your hand? It’s going to be a little cold.”

”That’s perfectly fine!” His eyes were bright; extraordinarily so. They gleamed with so much childlike innocence that [Y/N] found herself thinking back to vague bits of her youth that she didn’t know she remembered. “You looked lonely, so.”

She’d laughed. “Well, if you say so.” And when she reached out and shook the little boy’s hand—or, well, tried to—her own slipped right through his solid one.

He’d flinched and pulled his hand back. “That was really cold!”

Another laugh. “See, I told you.”

”Well, it was nice meeting you, anyway. I’m Cedric, and—“

”Cedric!” a Hufflepuff prefect was calling to him. “Come on, now, we’ve got to get to the common room!”

Cedric had pouted. “Well, I’ll see you around.. um..“

”[Y/N],” she’d told him, smiling softly, glad to make a new friend. “My name was [Y/N].”

—

She saw much of Cedric over the years, given that he was in Hufflepuff and thus often roamed the same corridors she haunted. But she had a feeling that even if he weren’t, he was still the type of person to go out of his way to search the vast grounds of the Hogwarts castle to look for her, because to Cedric, she was just as much of a friend as any of his other human ones.

She watched him grow with the passing of time, along with the other students, although part of her had grown especially fond of him. Cedric, whose talent for storytelling rivaled her own—whose kindness and compassionate heart rivaled just about anyone else’s—was not just another fleeting moment in her countless years at hogwarts. [Y/N] knew she would remember him when he left. She just didn’t know how hard it would be when he did.

—

When Cedric reached sixteen, it was only then that he changed in [Y/N]’s eyes; he’d gone from a little eleven-year-old with round, pink cheeks to something akin to a man, athletic and intelligent and exceptionally handsome.

When Cedric reached sixteen, [Y/N] was still seventeen. The same age she’d been for a long, long time.

[Y/N] was a ghost, and she had no real purpose anymore. Cedric was alive, and he had classes to go to. Other friends to talk to who had living, beating hearts and something in life to actually look forward to. Friends who he would still talk to long after he graduated. Friends who wouldn’t be bound to the castle until the end of time (if there was an end).

And yet Cedric spoke to her as though she was anything but a ghost.

He didn't just briefly wave to her whenever he saw her in the hallways, no; he would ask her how her day went, as if it actually mattered. He confirmed her previous suspicious; he didn't just count on their opportune meetings. He looked for her. His friends would find it strange, but he'd detach himself from them in favor of roaming the corridors, searching for a ghost, eager to tell her about his latest adventures.

Cedric made her feel like she was human. Made her feel like she was alive.

Whenever she spoke to him, it was as though her heart started to beat again for the first time in a hundred years. She wondered if he felt the same way, even if the notion of it was ridiculous. The idea of a ghost catching feelings for a human was a bizarre idea in and of itself, but of a human reciprocating those feelings? For someone who technically didn't even exist?

It was unheard of.

It was unheard of, but it wasn't impossible.

—

[Y/N] spent many nights in the Astronomy tower.

She couldn't remember much of her life. The memories faded away from her with each passing day, becoming blurry at the edges, like the longer time stretched on the farther away they went. They were still there, but she only vaguely recalled workings of the world, emptied of specifics, faces, names back from when she was alive. Like shelves labeled for memories, except they were empty.

She couldn't remember how she died, either, or why she chose to stay. It was odd. As far as she knew, the other ghosts knew fully well how they came to perish. But she wondered if maybe it was better that way; maybe she forgot for a reason.

But the Astronomy tower felt oddly familiar. There was something about it that drew her in. She knew it was relevant to her, in some way, even though she wasn't entirely sure how.

So she would stay there at sundown, looking out over the edge of the railing waiting for a blanket of stars to appear in the sky. Waiting for memories to come back to her, even though part of her knew that they weren't likely to.

The first time Cedric ever found her there, in his sixth year, he'd exclaimed, "There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you", and—oh.

For a ghost, [Y/N] always seemed to be exceptionally happy. Her eyes were always impossibly bright for a dead soul. But now she looked the saddest Cedric had ever seen her, like she was thinking back on all those hundred years she spent with the students and yet at the same time so very alone.

The sun had already set, the last bit of daylight filtering into the tower from the open sides. Cedric had walked forward and silently joined [Y/N] at the edge, sitting down on the floor next to her and staring out at the horizon.

He didn't say anything. He knew this wasn't about him; [Y/N] had to be the one to speak first.

Cedric didn't count the seconds as they passed, just stared out at the fading light as he waited. And waited. And he knew he would wait as long as it took.

And then, finally—"I wish I remembered how I died," she said quietly, her eyes glued to the scenery before her, and if she were alive there would have been tears inside them. Instead there was only a painful sort of wistfulness. "Or why I chose not to move on. I wish I knew, just so I’d feel justified in staying. But I don't. So now I don't know why I’m still here instead of—" she paused, frowning. "Well, I don't know what's beyond here, really. What real death is like. But it can't be too bad, can it?"

Another brief pause.

“I get brief flashes of my life sometimes," she murmured. "Nothing too big. Nothing enlightening. Nothing that really answers my questions. But I get most of them when I’m right here, in this tower."

For the first time since he sat next to her, [Y/N] turned her head just a fraction of an inch to look at him, eyes meeting his. "And when I’m with you," she said, voice soft. "When I’m with you, Cedric, I remember what it felt like to be—" a sharp exhale, as though it was exhilarating to say it out loud, "alive."

Cedric held her gaze for a few seconds. Maybe more. And then, quietly, as though he was letting her in on a secret (and in a way, he was): "If I told you I loved you, what would you say?"

There. It was a revelation, if anything, both to himself and to her. All the confirmation both of them needed that humans could love whoever they wanted to, even ghosts like her. Cedric had done it, hadn’t he?

He’d known her for seven years, and slowly, gradually, he’d fallen for her. No matter the fact that they were from two drastically different worlds. That was enough proof.

She was unresponsive for a while. And then she laughed. A sad sound. She turned back to the horizon, such little light left to seep through her translucent skin. "I’d say you were daft, falling in love with a ghost."

"If I asked you to wait for me," he reached out towards her hand, which was set on the floor. This time Cedric didn’t wince, even though it felt like he’d plunged his arm in icy water. "What would you do?"

She frowned down at their hands. It took her a long, long time, but when she spoke again, Cedric knew she meant it.

"I’d wait," she told him. Her smile was sad. "I’d wait for you, Ced. And I can only hope that you'll remember me, when the time comes.”

—

[Y/N] had been ready.

She’d prepared herself for the idea of waiting for a long time. A few more decades at most.

Cedric was going to leave, and she was going to stay. He would graduate and she would stay. He’d find a job, live the rest of his life to the best of his abilities, get married, start a family. Cedric would die, someday, and [Y/N] would stay at Hogwarts, forever seventeen, counting on the almost-promise he’d made back at the Astronomy tower.

A few decades more and she wouldn’t be so lonely anymore. A few decades more and maybe she’d start feeling a little like herself again.

But the idea of Cedric staying for her when he does die years and years and years from then—of asking him not to move forward into the afterlife and stay bound to the castle forever, just so she’d have someone to be with..

It was selfish.

But Cedric told her that it was his choice. When the time came, he said, he would choose to stay with her.

It almost made Cedric cry, thinking about it—about her just being here, staying just like this, for years more, and him growing older and older, growing apart. In the grand scheme of things, seven years spent learning to love a ghost shouldn’t have meant much, especially for her, who would have centuries more time to exist. But sitting here, with her cold hand almost in his, Cedric decided that the seven years he'd spent with her were the happiest moments of his life.

It could be sad. He could think of those times and see seven years of being so close to the girl he loved and yet at the same time so terribly far; unable to hold her the way he really wanted to. But he could also see the seven happiest years of his life; a time filled with love and adventure. A time that defined him, molded him into everything he was today.

So no, Cedric wasn't sad. He was the happiest he'd ever been and would ever be in his entire life.

—

”Aren’t you scared?”

”Of what?”

”Of dying.”

Cedric kept his eyes on the stars, gaze wistful as though he was thinking of a life that he had yet to experience. "I don’t think so. Not if I think of what's waiting for me beyond it."

"Decades from now."

He turned to look at [Y/N], then down at where their hands were just inches apart, one solid and the other translucent. One dark in the night, one glowing silver. “Decades.”

A lot could happen in several decades. Cedric could change his mind. Several decades from now, he could look back on the young ghost from the Hogwarts castle and decide that maybe she wasn't worth staying for. Or he could just forget, and never once look back over his shoulder.

But [Y/N] trusted him, and she was ready to wait.

She’d wait for as long as it took him.

—

The day came far earlier than she'd been expecting.

When news broke that one of the Triwizard Champions had been murdered, [Y/N] had felt fear, for the first time in a very long time.

And when the hushed whispers of horror turned into murmurs of Cedric’s name, mourning him, crying for him, [Y/N] had felt anguish so terrible it was as though she was dying all over again.

Cedric wasn’t supposed to die. Not this early.

—

The next time she saw Cedric, for the first time in seven years her hands didn’t go through his anymore.

—

Cedric never regretted it, choosing to stay.

Admittedly, when Death came knocking and asked him the question he thought he'd have to answer far, far into the future, there was a split-second of hesitance.

Just a tiny moment of doubt. Just one. Moving forward into the afterlife, letting Death take him once and for all, leaving this world to set forth into whatever lay beyond it; it was the idea of that that made him hesitate.

But then he thought of [Y/N]—of the idea of being able to hold her the way he could never have done in life, and to be able to do that as much as he wanted to in death. Of being able to finally be with her. Of having her after being so terribly close to it for so long.

He thought of her, and he knew what he wanted.

—

For centuries, there have been two young ghosts who roam the corridors of the Hogwarts castle hand-in-hand, eager to offer a helping hand to anyone who might need it, never running out of tales of love and magic and laughter to tell the students, who, in turn, go to them bearing stories of their own.

They died too young, the pair of them. But the youthful gleam in their eyes never died out, and neither did the love they held for each other—the love that was there long before the other died. The love that will stay until the end of time (if there is an end).

Often you can find them roaming the Hufflepuff corridors. Some say they see the two ghosts in the Astronomy tower, mostly during sundown, sitting on the edge by the railings as the last traces of daylight trickle in through the open windows.

But they are always there, if you look hard enough. Always eager to offer a helping hand. Never apart. Never one without the other.

They call them Cedric and [Y/N]—the ghosts who died too early, and yet were lucky enough to find love. One in life and the other in death.

Call it magic. Call it a miracle. Call it nothing at all; but somehow, two people who were perhaps never meant to find love in each other, got what they wanted, in the end.

And Death knows all they ever wanted was each other.

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rainbows-fanfics · 3 years

Text

Our Nightmare (Chapter 13)

Summary: Sally moves in with the man of her screams. But there is still so much she has to learn of Halloween Town, and what it’s like living with The Pumpkin King.

A sequel to Two Dearest Friends, where the Christmas incident never happens. But there are still many ends that haven’t been met, and much for these two dreamers to learn as they start to spend their deaths together.

Pairings: Jack Skellington/Sally, Dr Finklestein/Jewel

–

Note: This is a SEQUEL to my other story, TWO DEAREST FRIENDS. To read the original story, go here.

–

It is early in the morning when the crowing of a skeletal rooster makes it into Jack’s bedroom. The Pumpkin King throws his pillow over his skull in an attempt to deafen the noise. A few seconds pass before a bright light begins to seep into the room, as the pumpkin sun rises slowly in the sky outside. The skeleton groans when it hits his eye sockets. He mentally swears at himself for forgetting to close the curtains last night, and aggravatingly turns on his other side to avoid the window. His eyes snap open when he finds a face only a few inches away from his own.

Sally…

His frame freezes at the sight, finding himself in some sort of trance. His gaze is locked on her closed eyes, her slightly parted lips, and her breathing figure moving and falling by the second. It doesn’t take long before a smile grows on his stitched lips. He remembers all about last night. His proposal to move his girlfriend into his room...rightfully sharing a bed together as soon as they could. He remembers sleeping so peacefully throughout the night. He carefully brings a hand forward and moves the fallen strands of hair from her face. This notion catches her attention and her eyes slowly flutter open.

“Good morning, my dear.” He greets softly, cradling her face in one of his large hands. She looks surprised before relaxing her shoulders.

“Good morning…”

The air around them is entirely peaceful. She recalls feeling like this on her first morning in the Skellington Manor. Except now she has the pleasure of waking up right next to her skeleton man. He leans towards her and leaves a kiss on her lips, brushing her hair to the side before sitting up in bed. She follows his movements and lets out a small yawn. He notices this and tilts his skull.

"You can sleep in if you'd like."

She shakes her head. She already feels well-rested. "No, it's alright."

She leaves a kiss on his cheek before they hear something stirring in the room. Zero shakes his head from his doggy bed before peering around the bedroom. He levitates from the surface and meets with the eyes of his master and Sally. The ghost dog joins them and nuzzles both of their sides excitedly.

Jack chuckles as he pats his small head. "Good morning to you, Zero!"

Some more movement comes from the floor before a small, black figure jumps onto the edge of the bed. Ophelia tiredly blinks her yellow eyes at the figures, running along the blankets to meet with her owner. Sally coos when the feline jumps into her lap and nestles into her arm. What a wonderful way to start the morning!

"Good morning, Ophelia.."

The Pumpkin King takes this time to leave the bed and approach the windows, fully moving the curtains so the sun completely envelops the room. He moves to his dresser and searches around in his drawers for his clothes. The other figures watch him intently from the bed. Sally rubs her eyes as she adjusts to the light in the room.

"Did you sleep well, dearest?" The skeleton asks, pulling her from her thoughts.

She nods. "Just terrible!"

"I'm glad to hear it. I wanted our first night together to be perfectly unpleasant!"

He moves behind the screen to start dressing himself. He hears his beloved leave the bed after a few minutes and passes right through the door. The pitter-patters of her cat follow behind, and he can hear Zero's tag chiming down the stairs. It's only when he's fully dressed when the familiar sound of sizzling comes from the kitchen. She must be making breakfast already!

He grins to himself, elated with everything so far. This was the right decision to make after all this time. He'll have to spend the rest of the morning moving her things from her room and properly making his space into theirs . He’s already cleared plenty of time in his schedule to do it. He's more than excited by the time he rushes down the stairs to meet with Sally, kissing her neck once or twice while she stands over the stove cooking the food.

The sound of her giggles brings a new delight to his bones.

. . .

The nights go on, as do the mornings. They've moved past what happened on Halloween night. In fact, the subject never comes up again as the two get more comfortable. Jack's favorite part, albeit self-indulgent, are the mornings he spends waking up next to her . He finds he rises even earlier than usual just to watch her form next to his - sleeping so peacefully, auburn hair messily strewn over her face and the pillows, looking like the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen in his death. He listens to her small breaths in this time until she eventually wakes, and then he greets her with a kiss.

As the weeks pass, the skeleton and ragdoll start noticing each other's habits. While she sleeps, he finds she makes the tiniest of snores on some nights, almost virtually unnoticeable if it hadn't been for his keen sense of hearing. She will, in return, find the King overworking himself most nights, cooping himself up in his study while he reads or experiments. She has to drag him to bed every time this happens, sweetly reminding him to get his rest and that it's time to go to bed together.

He never resists. He feels like he's in some sort of Heaven as his angel leads him temptingly to their bedroom with a tight pull on his wrist. He sighs in bliss every time it happens. Things truly couldn't be better.

----

It is a quiet afternoon when Sally Finklestein sweeps around the entrance of her sewing shop. It is the usual time she takes a break and temporarily closes her business until she returns. She normally spends this time either in the plaza or the Town Hall, where she meets with Jack during his own lunch break. The two usually eat together and catch up at this time, before having to return to their responsibilities for the rest of the day.

She plans to meet with him and talk over a modest meal she packed for both of them this morning. She returns her broom inside and locks the front door of the shop with a hum. She eagerly turns on her heel and is about to begin her way until she is interrupted by the sound of laughter. It isn't a normal, childish one - rather, a collection of shrieks that sound from across the street. It is accompanied by the sound of running feet. She assumes it's from the Town children playing together as they usually do around this time, and continues on her way like normal.

The laughter continues until she stumbles upon the source of the noise. The sight makes her stop completely in her tracks. It is coming from three children she's never seen in Town before...she marvels at their bright clothing. They look exactly like the trick-or-treaters she’s seen in the human world - dressed in costume from head-to-toe. There is one young girl and two little boys - the girl is dressed as a purple witch, with a tall hat, stringy black hair, and a long green mask. One of the boys seems to be a skeleton, who has stubby green hair, a round face, and only three pointy fingers and toes on his hands and feet. He wears a circular mask sporting a wide, toothy grin. The last boy looks to be a devil, with his hair gelled upwards to represent small horns, and a long red mask situated over his tall face, as a pointy tail flickers from his pants.

The three are currently standing in front of other children, except these are ones Sally recognizes from Town. There is the mummy boy - a child wrapped entirely in paper whom she knows loves to help the Mayor with his duties, a small winged demon with large black wings, and the corpse couple’s kid, Ethan. There is a look of terror on their faces as the trick-or-treaters stand before them, attempting to hide their bags behind their small figures. She notices they’re filled with many colorful wrappers, which she assumes must be candy.

The small witch steps forward, batting her broom on the ground in warning. “Give it to us! We know you’re hiding it!”

Ethan narrows his stitched eyes. He is among the few residents that happen to be blind. “Who says we have to give it to you!? Aren’t you supposed to EARN your own candy?”

“Push off!” The devil warns as he steps forward. “You owe us for helping you last Halloween! Give us the candy!”

“HELP? You got all of us in trouble for that trick you played last year!” The mummy boy joins in. “We don’t want anything to do with you bullies!”

“ ‘Bullies..’ ?” The skeleton kid snickers from behind.

The trick-or-treaters exchange a glance. Despite their masks concealing most of their faces, it is clear that there is mischief in their gaze. The other children loudly gulp and begin to back away as the taller figures step forward threateningly. It is at this point Sally realizes something is about to go badly. The three suddenly take the masks off of their faces, revealing almost identical expressions underneath.

“It seems like we have to remind you of who we exactly are ..!” The girl giggles menacingly.

The other figures nod in agreement before joining her side. This is when they completely advance on the Halloween Town children, cornering them until they have no more space to go. Then they arrange themselves in a line, with the devil coming first while the witch and skeleton follow from behind. They momentarily hold the masks over their faces before dramatically lowering them.

“Lock!” “Shock!” “Barrel!”

The last member licks the lollipop in his hand greedily, eying the bags they are currently concealing from them. He nudges his fellow trick-or-treaters. “Say, I think I know where they’re keeping their candy..!”

“Oh? Where is it, Barrel?” Shock plays along.

“Hey! I think I see them, too!” Lock comes forward and points a finger behind them, making the small kids quiver in fear. “You’re hiding it behind your backs! That’s the oldest trick in the book! Our book!”

“P...please…” The demon’s red eyes start to moisten with tears. “This is all we have..! Our parents would get mad if-”

“ Psh ! This is why we don’t have any parents! We work for the boogeyman, and he doesn’t have any of those lame rules..!” She snorts at them. Barrel nods in agreement.

“We take our job in pride...and the boss wants us to get him some extra candy! Which means you will have to give it to us. Don’t make us ask twice.”

Ethan sobs as they attempt to grab the bags from their hands. “ Stop !”

“Or what ?” Lock pushes him. His large figure falls onto the floor harshly. “Are you gonna tattle on us?”

The other two cohorts shake their heads in disappointment. “You’d be really stupid to try that.”

Before they attempt to push them down any further, a feminine yell interrupts them. The kids jump in alarm as a tall woman approaches them with a displeased look on her face.

“You stop picking on those kids right now !”

Lock, Shock, and Barrel freeze in their spots. The bags fall from their small hands as they turn around and find Sally Finklestein standing a few feet away from them. She has her hands clenched to her sides and her eyes firmly narrowed - completely upset at the scene she has just witnessed. In this silence, the mummy boy helps Ethan back to his feet and the hastily three collect their candy. Before the trick-or-treaters can do anything, they suddenly flee on the spot, running as far and quickly as they can. Shock lets out a frustrated groan at the sight before turning sharply to the older woman, pointing an accusing finger in her direction.

“Hey! What’s your problem, lady!?”

“Why are you treating those kids like that?” Sally implores with a frown. “You can’t bully them out of their candy! That is just...despicable!”

The three look at each other before bursting into a fit of laughter. ‘Despicable ..?’ They guffaw right there on the floor, slamming their hands on their stomach amusingly. The ragdoll watches them with a confused look. Then she gets upset and steps even closer, wanting these mischievous children to understand how unacceptable their actions are. She points in the direction the others left in.

“I want you to go to them and apologize, right now!”

“Who do you think you are? Our mom?” The devil inquires sarcastically.

Shock laughs right with him while Barrel tilts his head at her tall figure. He suddenly tugs on his cohort’s sleeve and leans forward to whisper something. The surprised look on Lock’s face stops their laughter and he whispers another thing to Shock. The smile leaves her lips as she takes a small step forward.

“Wait..” She looks her up-and-down. “Do we know you ?”

“ Know me..?” Sally repeats quietly. She thinks if she has ever seen these kids before in her life. Then something starts to click...a past memory she has pushed aside for a long time. It is the same ordeal Jack apologized for when they first properly talked together - how she got kidnapped by that wretched Bug King, years ago...it is almost terrifying to remember.

She was newly-created at the time, by the hands of the town’s mad scientist, Dr. Finklestein. She was only alive for a few days before Halloween Town was completely overrun by horrible bugs. She got separated from her creator at the time, and was suddenly stuffed into a bag by the hands of three small children. She remembered the way they giggled when they stuffed her in the bathtub, speaking to her as if she were Jack Skellington. Her heart sinks remembering how she didn’t even know him, at the time. And the way she reacted when she first saw the Boogeyman...the sheer terror displayed on her face when he insisted on keeping her captive...

“That’s it!” Barrel exclaims. “She’s the one we kidnapped for Oogie! Susan!”

“Not ‘Susan’, you idiot!” Lock smacks him upside the head. “It was….erm...uh….”

“ Sally !” Shock slaps her forehead in realization. The other’s eyes widen before they look back at her, then make small ‘ah’ sounds. They look at each other again before laughing once more, slapping their knees this time. The ragdoll is even more insulted this time, but it is nothing compared to how she feels with their next words:

“Oh, man! Didn’t Jack have to come and save you? How helpless are you? And you think you can boss us around!?” The witch giggles. “I think the Doctor forgot to give you a brain!”

“Hey, what’s that over there?” Barrel abruptly points in a direction.

The others follow his finger and notice a newly-constructed building in this part of Halloween Town. They read the sign plastered outside proudly - “ Sally’s Sewing Shop ”. The pristine paint, the intact windows and doors...it certainly catches their attention. Both Lock and Shock stroke their chins the longer they look at it. Plenty of ideas stir in their mind, wondering just how they can vandalize it and make their work look proud. Sally frowns as she notices the expression on their faces. Panic settles in her leaves. She doesn’t feel right about any part of this situation at all.

“No!” She exclaims firmly. “Whatever you’re thinking of...don’t do it!”

“Is that YOUR sewing shop?” Shock teases. “I don’t remember THAT being there before..”

“How’d you get it?” Lock asks curiously. At her silence, he gives a knowing look at the other two. “Guys, don’t you remember those rumors in Town? That Jack got a girlfriend ?”

“Ew!” Barrel and Shock stick out their tongues in disgust. Then they realize his words and grin devilishly. “I mean, yes... we do !”

“I bet he got you that shop! And I bet how upset he’d be if something happened to it...because some doll wasn’t watching her mouth around Boogie’s Boys!”

Something snaps in her at those words. She doesn’t appreciate how cocky they sound, nor the coy smile that boy has when he says them. She steps forward and clenches her fists tightly. So tight she can feel the seams begin to weaken….her eyes widen as she comes even closer and the three take a step back. They notice her stiff posture and the smile is promptly wiped off their faces. In a dark tone, Sally Finklestein warns them:

“You will NOT be going anywhere NEAR my shop! And if you do, Jack will bring the WORST punishment on you three that you have ever SEEN! Do I make myself clear!?”

They don’t appreciate being talked to like this. But they think twice of it, and decide it’s not worth the trouble right now. They * can * get in serious hot water with Jack whenever he is angry - they’ve learned that lesson plenty in the past. And knowing this is his girlfriend...that would make things worse! They decide to drop it for now, only out of caution, and exchange a defeated nod with each other. They stick their tongues out at her before scurrying off in a random direction, glancing back only once to snicker wickedly. She is left standing there, fuming, as their small figures disappear through a gate. She releases her fists and lets out a sigh, worryingly glancing back at her shop and feeling the anxiety start to raise in her leaves.

‘I should talk with Jack…’

----

Sally is disappointed to learn that the skeleton has to cancel their arrangement that afternoon, as the Mayor is overworking him especially on this day. She shares some understanding, knowing he took the day off with her not too long ago just to spend some time together...he asks her if there’s anything urgent she needs to tell him - and she decides to bite her tongue, for now. She can spill everything about it to him tonight, when they can relax together after dinner, and all of his work is off his shoulders…

Finding she has a free afternoon, she decides to visit the Witches in their shop. They told her she is free to come by anytime, and that they’re interested in getting to know her. This certainly holds true, as the women inform her it’s their own lunch break, and insist on bringing her to a small arrangement with the other women in town. They demand on doing it to make up for the cruelty they all showed her in the past. She’s almost nervous accepting such an invitation, but agrees to it in the end. She would like to make new friends, after all…!

Sally Finklestein is led to a small table in the Residential part of town, shaded by an umbrella, where the Undersea Gal and Corpse Mom are currently sitting at, sipping small cups of tea and eating at plates with sandwiches on them. She is surprised at how welcome she is received, as there is no trouble making room for her the moment they spot her. She brings her own lunch to the table, a small bowl of worm and pea soup, before comfortably sitting beside the witches.

“Sally! We’ve been wanting to see you for some time now.” The Corpse Mom adjusts her glasses with a smile. “We just want to know all about what you’re up to..!”

“Your shop must be getting so many customers. I would visit you myself, if I had any need for clothes.” The fish butts in. “What I’ve heard from everyone else is terrible!”

“Oh, please..” She bats her eyes at their words. “It’s really nothing special. I am busy with all the clothes I’m making, but it’s only to help everyone in town.”

“You won that award on Halloween..! I would say it was rightfully deserved!” Helgamine exclaims, almost too passionately. It’s clear she’s making an effort, at least.

“You made my little boy some new clothes. He goes through them quicker than the vampires getting out of the sun.” The large woman sets down her sandwich. “We are all incredibly thankful for what you do.”

Her ruby lips curve into a smile. This is going all so well..! The five of them start having an incredibly deep conversation, speaking about how things are going in town. She appreciates getting to hear from some of the residents she doesn’t know. They don’t seem all that upset with her presence and even ask plenty of questions to her. She grows more comfortable the longer they speak, and a full hour passes before their lunches are finished, and they are now drinking through their cups and enjoying the afternoon.

“You are such a delight, Sally.” The Undersea Gal compliments her. “We should get together more often..!”

The witches bow their heads and look another way at this suggestion. They agree regardless, and the creation appreciates this gesture. Before further words can be exchanged, the loud sound of a door slamming shut interrupts them. The women snap their heads in the direction, to find an angry shopkeeper disposing of unwanted customers. Sally isn’t surprised when it’s the same trick-or-treaters from before.

Lock, Shock, and Barrel rub their backs in pain as they remove themselves from the floor. They throw their hands angrily up in the air. “Hey! How could you treat your own customers like this? We’re just kids!”

“Yeah - rotten little brats, is what you three are!” He rebuts angrily, returning to his shop. “Come back when you know how to follow the rules!”

The figures flinch as the door slams shut again, even louder this time. The three exchange angry frowns before nodding and reaching into their bag, surfacing rolls of toilet paper and straws. It’s clear to any outsider what is going to happen - they’re going to play a classic ‘trick’ on the unfortunate owner. Sally frowns as she witnesses this, and begins to stand in her chair to stop them. The other women notice and push her back down in her seat, giving her a firm shake of the heads.

“You don’t want to do that, dear.” The mother warns her. “Those three are more than you can handle.”

“I scared them off from my shop earlier.” She crosses her arms angrily. “They threatened to vandalize it, and I made it very clear Jack would punish them for it if they did.”

“You must’ve gotten lucky.” The Undersea Gal rolls her eyes. “They’ll never leave anyone alone before getting either candy, or playing a trick. They’re the worst trick-or-treaters in town, and I don’t mean that as a compliment..!”

The witches stand from their chair, shaking their heads and letting out disappointed ‘tsks’ . “Children..! They just never learn, do they, sister?” Zeldaborne asks. Helgamine agrees as the two leave the table.

Sally and the others watch curiously as they confront the kids. They were in the middle of throwing the paper all over the building and preparing some spit wads. They notice their visitors and resort to name-calling and screams, before the two women flick their wrists and begin to chant a spell. Without any warning, a purple glow is cast on the trick-or-treaters, freezing them mid-air and forcing them to drop everything in their hands. They struggle in their grip and yell harshly at them. Helgamine grins in satisfaction.

“Now, are you three going to scram before we have to turn you into toads again?” She asks. “And this time, we’ll make it last for more than 3 days!”

“No! Don’t do that to us!” Barrel struggles to move his arms. “Not again !”

“Then promise you’ll leave and quit bugging everyone! We don’t want you here, and we don’t know how many times we have to say it..!”

“Not until you learn how to behave!” Zeldaborne adds before turning to one of them. “And Shock, you know how disappointed we are in you..! You could be learning how to be a proper witch instead of all this nonsense!”

The little girl laughs bravely. “From who? You hags? I would never want to!”

They move their fingers and the glow grows only stronger. The kids groan as the grip is tightened. It doesn’t take long before they begin to plead. “Please, stop! We’ll go!” “Yeah! Far away!” “-Back to our treehouse!”

“Good. Off you go, then.”

They release the spell, and the three land on the ground harshly again. They throw sour looks in their direction before grabbing their stuff and running off. It’s clear they’re more afraid this time, as they don’t even bother looking back. The witches clean their hands off before returning to the other women at the table, sitting back down casually and acting as if nothing had happened at all. Sally is in awe at what happened, and smiles in delight at them.

“That really works..?”

“Oh, yes. We’ve had to throw so many spells on them just to stop their shenanigans.” Helgamine huffs. “It’s expensive to keep doing it, and it seems like every week we have to..! I wish they would stay in that treehouse of theirs.”

“Who exactly are they..?” She inquires. “They kidnapped me once, to give to their ‘boss’ . That was when that Bug King took over the town.”

“Right. That debacle.” The Undersea Gal frowns at the memory. “They are trick-or-treaters, obviously, but they’re more of miscreants. Always causing trouble and bringing bad things with them..! None of us want them here.”

“That’s right! They do all of these awful, nasty things for that terrible Oogie Boogie...they are never good news. Don’t believe them if they promise anything to you.” The Corpse Mom shivers in her seat. “They’ll just wreck your stuff and bully your boys just to get free candy!”

“We believe in the name of trick-or-treating, we truly do! But they take their ‘tricks’ to such levels…” Zeldaborne clenches her hands. “No matter how much candy you give them, they’ll keep coming back and demanding more each time!”

The Undersea Gal comes forward and lays a scaly hand on her shoulder. “Don’t ever let them into your shop, Sally, or even around it for Halloween’s sake! They will only cause trouble for you. Believe me. It’s happened to all of us.”

She frowns at all this information. She can believe it. Those words they said to her earlier...none of it was good news. “How come such children behave this way? How could they work for someone so awful? And what you said, Zeldaborne...that girl doesn’t even want to become a witch like you two. How could that be?”

“ -That Oogie Boogie !” They all exclaim, angrily, in unison. She looks around the table in confusion.

“He makes those little ones work for him, and it is just so cruel.” Corpse Mom frowns. “He constantly feeds them candy and junk food all day, and lets them do whatever they want! He’s the reason why they cause so much mischief.”

“They live in a treehouse in the Hinterlands forest. Far from town, but not far enough , in my opinion!” Zeldaborne waves her fist in the air angrily. The other creatures sigh and nod in agreement.

“Oogie Boogie is terrible news. You don’t want to meet him, which is why you should avoid those trick-or-treaters at all costs. It’s best you don’t catch their attention, otherwise the Boogeyman will know about you , too.” Helgamine warns Sally darkly.

She wishes to ask them more about this subject, but the ladies insist on changing topics - to something more... cheerful . She slumps in her seat as they begin to talk about business in town. She joins in the conversation when necessary, but her mind feels... troubled , and overwhelmed with all this information. She can’t get the image of those children out of her mind, and finds that somehow, somewhere , deep down...she feels a little sad for them.

----

The rest of the day is spent cautiously in her shop. She finds herself hanging around near her front door more often, constantly peering around the streets in search of those miscreants again. She’s relieved to find no sight of them, and is quick to close her sewing shop once the time comes. She makes sure she locks the door and closes the curtains before leaving for the Skellington Manor. Ophelia blinks worriedly at her owner from the basket held in the crook of her arm. The ragdoll seems so tense, that even an animal like her can sense it..!

She makes her way through the doors and relaxes once she’s inside. She lets Ophelia onto the floor and discards her wicker basket on the table. The cat happily meets with the ghostly dog and the two retreat to the other end of the room. She watches them run off before suddenly being met with two long arms wrapping around her figure. She smiles as she feels Jack Skellington hugging her, digging his skull into her shoulder. His pumpkin cologne eases her instantly.

“Welcome home, Sal..!” He greets her proudly in her ear. She hugs him back tightly.

“Glad to be home, Jack…”

He withdraws after a moment, allowing her to get comfortable. It is still a little early before dinner has to be made, so the skeleton joins her side and rests on the cushions of the couch. The animals are playing on the carpet in front of them, giving quite an amusing sight to the Manor’s residents. He chuckles when Ophelia manages to paw at Zero’s pumpkin nose, which lights up in alarm at the contact. Sally catches this scene and giggles as well.

“Aren’t they adorable together?”

“They certainly are.” He agrees with a knowing tone. Zero catches their words and quietly growls, only to be cut off when the black cat paws at him again.

“He won’t admit it, but I know Zero’s gotten very fond of her.” The tall man informs his girlfriend. “He enjoys the company so much, he waits right by the door for you to return from your shop with Ophelia!”

“Does he, now?” The ragdoll teases and the dog turns away. “I’m so glad he loves the new addition to our little family..!”

The apparition decides he’s had enough of their teasing and flies entirely into another room. The cat is confused at this gesture and runs straight after him. The two figures laugh from the couch as they watch them disappear through a doorway. They’re left alone now, and the silence starts to linger. She goes to cuddle with Jack and sighs in relief once she’s in his grip. She still has to tell him about her day...but she’d rather do that after they’ve eaten….

“Would you like me to cook dinner tonight?” She offers. He thinks about the idea, stroking his finger along hers.

“Why don’t we make something together ..? We’ve haven’t done that yet..!”

“Cooking together?” She blinks in interest. “I’ve never done such a thing...sharing the kitchen was never an option because, well, the Doctor had trouble with cooking!”

“Not a problem for me.” He picks her up in one smooth movement from the couch. She lets out a surprised noise before hugging his frame tightly. “Why, we should get started right now..!”

He moves his skull down to brush his nasal bone against her nose. She enjoys the touch while he brings them into the kitchen within only a few steps. He lets her down and starts searching through a cookbook. She joins his side and, after a few minutes, the two agree on a special meal to make together. It’s a new experience entirely to be cooking by the Pumpkin King - she’s always thought sharing a kitchen would feel cramped and bothersome, but it is entirely the opposite! Rarely would they bump elbows or get in the other’s way; it is delightful to help pour the ingredients in bowls and have him reach anything she can’t.

They spend a wonderful time cooking a casserole together, and by the time it’s finished, they’re both eager to try it. They waste no time helping themselves to their servings, sitting in the dining room to share this meal they made together. She feels almost excited as she squirms in her seat, eagerly stabbing her fork through the food and bringing it to her lips, savoring the taste…It doesn’t take very long until she comes to a judgement.

“It’s...delicious!” She exclaims. He takes his own bite and soon agrees.

“Absolutely wonderful! See? We make such good things together..! Remember the Halloween costumes?”

“That we do...it was delightful, Jack. I hope we do this again.”

“Then we will.” He replies smoothly before taking another bite.

She relaxes completely in her seat as they resume their meal, finishing it shortly with its tempting flavors. They return to the living room to cuddle once more, allowing their supper to be digested. The pets have long moved on in the house, but they don’t mind being alone at that moment. He especially misses her contact after not making it to their lunch together that day...he feels guilty having to be away, and frowns as he combs his hand through her yarn hair. He’s obligated to ask.

“How did your day go, my love? It didn’t trouble you that I couldn’t make it to our arrangement, did it? The soup you made was very good...”

“Oh, it was fine. I know you have plenty of work with the Mayor.” She nestles his side sweetly. “I went into town and had lunch with the Witches and a few other women from town.”

“Did that go well?”

“Yes. They’ve been wanting to make it up to me for what they said in the past. And we had a lovely time together. We talked so much about my shop and what’s been going on in the town…except, well…”

He notices her hesitation and leans forward. “Except…?” He inquires, crooking an eye socket.

“I had an unexpected encounter today, with...well, some children.” She awkwardly begins explaining. “I met the trick-or-treaters today. I found them picking on the Corpse Kid, the Mummy boy, and the winged demon...I just had to put a stop to it, so I interrupted them. It didn’t go quite as I planned…”

“You met with Lock, Shock, and Barrel?” The skeleton asks in surprise. She waits before nodding. “Did they give you any trouble?”

“Well, yes * and * no. They noticed my shop and threatened to do something to it, before I told them you would punish them if they did. And then they ran off. But when I had lunch with those ladies, we noticed them picking on some of the shopkeepers in town. The Witches stepped in and put an end to it, but-”

“-They’re a lot of trouble, Sally.” He interrupts her, waving a skeletal finger. “You need to be wary of them.”

“That’s exactly what they said.” She sighs. “But, Jack, who exactly are they? They told me they were miscreants and trick-or-treaters, but that’s all I really know…”

He hums before removing his arms and sitting upright. She can tell this is a serious subject and allows him to collect his thoughts. After a moment, he replies, “-They’re Halloween Town’s finest trick-or-treaters. And by that, really, they’re just good at what they do. Which is to get candy and pull tricks. But they cause much more trouble than they’re worth, and often try to give me and the Mayor a hard time…”

She leans forward and listens intently, wanting to know more about these children. “Where did they come from? I heard they don’t have any parents.”

“No. They don’t.” He frowns. “They came into town a long time ago, recently deceased at the time, I believe...they caused a lot of trouble back then, not particularly interested in meeting us, but demanding candy from everyone and pulling lots of pranks and tricks on them. It was overwhelming for me and the Mayor, and we tried our best to put a stop to it but...we weren’t very successful, you see…”

She blinks at his story.

“We were desperate and out of options trying to get these kids to behave. I could only scare them so much to put them in line. Not to mention, we had Halloween to worry about, and couldn't babysit them all the time. We eventually brought them to someone whom we thought could correct their behavior...but it hasn’t worked since.”

“Did you bring them to the boogeyman?”

He flinches at the word and visibly tenses. She is about to ask why until he grits his teeth and continues. “-- Yes . We brought them to Oogie Boogie thinking he could correct their behavior...but he took advantage of it instead, and made them his henchmen. They carry all his wrongdoings now since he can’t leave his casino.”

“And why can’t he?”

“I banished him. The same day he kidnapped you, and I met you for the first time.” He finds it within himself to smile softly, reaching for her hand and holding it firmly. “He had to be punished for what he did with the town, and trying to overthrow me. It’s the only way he can get what he wants - by making those children do all his dirty work for him.”

“Don’t you feel bad for them..? That they are under his control, and they had so much potential to be innocent little children…”

“It’s a difficult situation.” He sighs exasperatedly. “I’ve given them plenty of opportunities to better themselves and get * away * from Oogie Boogie, but they never seem to want to do it. They insist on telling him everything and involving him in everything I’ve asked them to do. He inevitably has some influence on them, one way or another.”

He notices her picking her seams nervously(a habit he might scold her for, it worries him immensely that she'll pull herself apart), and brings her gaze back to his. He tells her firmly. “Sally, everything those witches and women told you is true. They are trouble and do not come with good intentions. Please, avoid them all you can, and let me know immediately if they start bothering you and your shop.”

“I will. I don’t trust them.” She replies firmly, then softens her gaze. “But I still feel so bad for those children…”

“As do I. But, please, it is not your situation to fix. Don’t worry about them. Eventually, I’m sure they’ll overgrow everything and want to move on ....” He begins to mutter with his sentence, and snaps himself out of it. “Just don’t talk to them or let them inside your shop. Understand?”

She nods again. He drops the subject from there and announces that it’s time to get ready for bed. She obliges and follows him into their room together, changing into their pajamas for the night and freshening up before heading into bed. They sleep together closely, with Jack holding her unusually tight, more so than normal. The entire evening, she thinks of those children and the boogeyman…and her first encounter with all of them….

#The Nightmare Before Christmas #Nightmare Before Christmas #Jack Skellington #Jack and Sally #Jack X Sally #Lock Shock and Barrel #Oogie Boogie #TNBC #Tim Burton #Disney #Our Nightmare #fanfiction #long post #long

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norarigby · 3 years

Text

Nights

Pairing: StreetRacer!Hawks x fem!reader

Warnings: a bit of suggestive content (17+)

Word count: ~1.3k

A/n: Whew, got carried away with this one. But I’m kind of in love with this AU. Also, I listened to Shut Up and Drive by Rihanna and Everybody Loves Me by OneRepublic while writing this. Could be interesting to listen while reading? Anyway, enjoy!

Saturdays.

Saturdays were your favorite.

It started back in your junior year of high school. Your now ex-boyfriend was a street racer by night and begged you for weeks and weeks to come to a race with him. You honestly didn’t see the appeal, especially since he drove a Kia Forte—a nice car, but not really “street racing” material. Eventually, you gave in and promised one race.

Boy, did you regret not going with him sooner.

Because when he pulled up with his Subaru Impreza decked with a holographic wrap, LEDs, and a 300hp engine, you knew he meant business.

Even after you broke it off with him, you still had pretty good ties in that community. So, every Saturday night continued to be racing night. You definitely didn’t participate, but every once in a while, you’d sweet talk some racer in letting you sit shotgun with them. The thrill and danger of the ride always enticed you and you couldn’t get enough of it.

Even more rare would be the nights you got to play flag girl. It wasn’t your favorite, but after a lot of convincing and a couple shots, you would eventually give in.

It looked like tonight was going to be one of those nights.

“Come onnnn, y/n!” Mimiko whined as she pulled on your arm, “It’ll be funnnn! And you know the boys loooove it when you do it!”

You and Mimiko had agreed to go out for a few drinks before tonight. She promised she wouldn’t get more than tipsy so you wouldn’t have to babysit her again. Obviously, that plan was working phenomenally.

You rolled your eyes, “Fine. But only if you don’t touch another drink tonight unless it’s water, got it?”

“Y/nnnnn!” Mimiko’s face lit up and she bounced up and down in her seat, “I promise! I’ll text Ichiro and let him know you’ll do it!”

You were already regretting agreeing to it. But Mimiko was excited and you’d do anything to keep her from getting completely wasted—you did not want to repeat last week. You ordered one more shot to calm your nerves then texted Kaito to come pick you two up.

The shot did not, in fact, help your nerves. If anything, they got worse the closer you got. You drummed your fingers against the armrest to try to sooth your anxiety. You’re not really sure why, being the flag girl wasn’t hard per se. But there was a definite expectation. Flag girls started the race, yes, but they also had to get the boys excited. And that took a certain....flair you definitely didn’t have.

Regardless of how you felt, you agreed to this. And if street racers were anything, it would be stubborn. Didn’t matter what it was, they held you to your word and would not let you back down. So you closed your eyes and took a few deep breaths to calm down.

You don’t need to be the most confident, gorgeous girl there, some old advice echoed in your mind. You just need to convince them you are.

When you opened your eyes again, the car had arrived at its location. Kaito and Mimiko got out and immediately dispersed to go talk with others who had arrived early. You touched up some of your makeup, took another deep breath, then exited the car.

“Daaaamn, d’you come with someone tonight or can I have you to myself?” A voice sounded from behind you.

You turned to your caller. Comments like these weren’t rare amongst this crowd. You get used to them after a while. What you needed to figure out was whether or not it would be worth it to indulge.

And indulge you would.

The man that stood in front of you looked a few years older than who you would normally see at races. But that didn’t make him any less attractive. His entire demeanor screamed effortlessness and inflated ego. From his windswept blond hair to the tan leather jacket swung over his shoulder, he dripped with charm and swagger. He had an athletic build with an average height—although, he was leaning on the adjacent car, so it was hard to tell. Though the most striking feature was his eyes. They were this light golden brown that glinted in the street lights. They held yours in a gaze that took your breath away.

Oh yeah, he was definitely worth it.

Leaning against the door and crossing you ankles, you finally answered, “That depends. Is that your car?”

He glanced at the car he was leaning on, “The Mitsubishi? I wouldn’t bring this to race with if it were the last car on Earth.”

“So you’re one of the racers for tonight then?”

“That’s right,” He unwrapped a sucker and stuck it in his mouth, rolling to to the side with his tongue, “Name’s Hawks, by the way.”

Giving him another once over, you decided you give your newfound confidence a test drive. You walked over and leaned up to whisper in his ear, “Well, Hawks, I’ll make you a deal. Win this race, and I’m all yours tonight.”

His hands ghosted at your waist as he took in a sharp breath, “Is that right? Then I’ll see you at the finish line, in first, of course.”

You finally pulled back, glancing at the white stick in between his lips. Bringing one hand up, you plucked the candy from his mouth and placed it into your own. His eyes widened as you took a step back, “Can’t wait.”

As you walked away, your mind was screaming at you. Where in hell did that come from? Either way, call it a massive ego boost. You felt like you were on cloud nine as you walked over to Mimiko. You joked and flirted with a couple people you knew. Every once in a while, your eyes would flit over to the blond to take him in again. He was addicting. And you couldn’t wait to be his for the night.

Eventually, 12:00 rolled around and it was your time to shine. By then, you’d definitely relaxed enough and you were gonna have some fun—especially now that you’d gotten under one of the racer’s skin.

As you strutted between the cars, onlookers wolf whistled and shouted colorful comments. You approached the first driver and blew them a kiss. This prompted a wild response from the audience. Feeling more confident, you approached the second driver and kissed him on the cheek. Even as the crowd roared again, you knew this last car was going to be your favorite. You sauntered to the driver, who already was partially leaning out his window. Hawks was drinking in every step you took and was practically salivating.

You leaned down to meet him at eye level, “Don’t get too distracted, pretty boy. It’d be a shame to see you lose.” With your index finger, you traced along his jawline until you reached his chin, tilting it upwards.

He smirked, “I don’t lose.”

Hawks grabbed your wrist and kissed your hand. Flustered by the sudden action, you stood up fully. You finally became aware of the hush that had fallen over the crowd, a few whispers shared here and there. snapping out of your daze, you blew a kiss and a wink, finalizing your interaction with the attractive racer for now.

You returned to the raised makeshift platform by the first car. With the megaphone in one had and the flag in the other, you shouted, “Alright, boys, you know the rules. Play nice and may the fastest car win. Start your engines!”

All three revved their engines and everyone erupted in excitement.

“On your mark! Get set!” You sent a wink to Hawks, “Go!”

As the flag fell, the cars sped off in the night. They’d return in about 15-20 minutes. Until then, people would finalize their bets and drink while they waited for the cars to wind the corner.

You leaned against the streetlight next to the platform, eyes glued to that corner. Your stomach fluttered as it recalled Hawks’ confidence about winning and your mind couldn’t help but wander to the other things he would be confident about.

You smiled, tonight was definitely going to be interesting.

(Posted January 1st, 2021, 11:45PM MST)

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iliveiloveiwrite · 4 years

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Haunted Forests // A Very Harry Potter Halloween (D.M.)

A/N: My fic for A Very Harry Potter Halloween held by the always wonderful @masterofthedarkness, @eleven-times-lively and @birdie-writes!! My chosen prompt was Haunted Forest. So here we are, I hope you like!! I hope you don’t mind me posting this a few days early, I really don’t have the time next week to write it and post it! I hope you all like! The first two pictures in my banner are in fact Pendle. The Pendle witch trials did happen and if you’re interested in that aspect of history, I strongly recommend reading about it!

Warnings: hauntings, spectres, ghosts, mentions of death and executions. Honestly this is a load of fluff about how Draco wanted to stay home even though the warnings don’t sound like that.

Word count: 2.8k

“Remind me, love,” Draco starts, closing the driver’s side door to his car, “Why did I agree to this again?”

You smile lovingly, “Because you love me, and you wanted to do something for Halloween.”

“Why did I want to do something for Halloween?”

You roll your eyes, “If I recall, it was you who mentioned that you hadn’t celebrated it since your Fifth Year at Hogwarts. It was you who brought up the idea of celebrating our first Halloween together.”

Draco glances between you and the dark forest that would be the setting for tonight’s entertainment. He gulps imperceptibly; his nerves beginning to get the better of him. His eyes refocus on you, “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Do I want to spend the evening in a supposedly haunted forest getting a history lesson?” You ask rhetorically; rubbing your arms to fight off the invading chill, “It isn’t how I planned my Halloween, but I don’t think this is something we can pass up, Draco.”

His eyes dance back to the imposing forest; the trees looking taller in the growing dark. His eyebrows furrow as he watches the last of the sun disappearing. “I don’t know,” He starts warily, “I would have preferred the movie marathon we had planned.”

You laugh lightly, “You just want to watch Hocus Pocus again, don’t you?”

He rolls his eyes, “It’s hilarious! Can you blame me?”

You rise on your tiptoes, pressing a kiss to his lips, “I don’t suppose I can blame you at all. How about a deal?”

“A deal? Now I’m intrigued.”

You point towards the forest entrance; starting to feel uneasy with the idea yourself but wanting to put on a front, “We get through this, then tomorrow, we spend the entire day in bed watching spooky films.”

His arms circle your waist, “Which spooky films?”

You smile up at him, “I’ll let you decide. How does that sound?”

Draco clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, “Spend a night in a creepy forest then spend the day after watching whatever films I want?”

You nod; watching him deliberate. Eventually, he smiles, “You have yourself a deal.”

Together, you both join the group gathering just to the side of the entrance to the forest. Draco’s hand does not leave yours as the guid introduces themselves; preparing you for what you could be in for, “Welcome to the Pendle Witch Walk,” The guide announces, “Tonight we will be following the trail of those executed in those fateful trials.”

Your hand squeezes Draco’s as nerves settle in your stomach. Your eyes flicker between the guide; looking as confident as ever as they explain the route for tonight and the entrance to the forest. You couldn’t quite tell what, but there was something out there, waiting. You could feel it deep within your bones.

A quick glance at Draco and a fond smile from him has the nerves dissipating, leaving behind a sense of calm that only Draco could ever elicit from you.

With an overdramatic swish of their arm, the guide begins to lead your group through the forest, stating, “The accused were marched on this very trail to their deaths. Convicted of the crime of murder... and witchcraft.”

Draco tenses beside you. His education at Hogwarts having provided the history of the magical community; he knew full well what happened in these woods over four hundred years ago. He knew what the men and women had been accused of, and he knew the penalty. It was less than seventy years later when the wizarding community was forced to go into hiding; needing to protect their numbers more than anything.

Twigs snap under feet as the group make their way further into the forest. The cold begins to seep through your jacket; raising goosebumps along your flesh. Instinctively, you lean into Draco, desperate to feel his warmth and steady presence against you. Draco smiles down at you as he feels you press yourself against him. He keeps his eyes on the guide as he leans down to you, “Regretting your decision?”

You huff; your breath puffing out in a white fog, “Not just yet, but I’ll admit I should have brought a warmer jacket.”

Draco laughs; his hand leaving yours to wrap around your shoulder. You hum happily as he tugs you closer to him; stealing a glance up at him to find him already watching you with a fond look on his face.

“What?” You mouth; not wanting to disturb the guide as they explain the warring families that met their demise on these very hills.

He shakes his head, “I’m just thinking of all we could be doing if we weren’t here right now.”

You roll your eyes and nudge him in the side, “Let me remind you Draco, it was you who wanted to doing something spontaneous for Halloween. Here we are, doing something spontaneous.”

Draco goes to reply, but he doesn’t get chance. You trip over a tree root, landing unceremoniously on the ground. Draco clamps his lips shut; repressing all manner of laughter as you stand back up and brush yourself down. Your black jeans now soaked through with mud and your palms scraped up after landing on a rock.

The air stings your scraped palms, but you don’t say a thing as Draco joins you by your side. The group is only a few feet from you; unable to lose true sight of them with the guide’s torch being as bright as it is. You frown as you stare down at your hands; wishing for a bottle of water to clean them.

Carefully, Draco takes hold of both your hands, looking over them with a keen eye. He brings them both up to his lips; placing delicate kisses to each palm before folding them into fists. “Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere else?” He asks; voice full of concern and worry.

You tuck your hands into your jacket pockets; blinking away the sudden tears that have sprung from the sting of your injuries, “I think I’ve hurt my knee too, but there’s no way to check until we get home.”

Draco sighs; eyes wandering towards the group who are waiting patiently for you both, “Are you okay to walk?”

You nod your head, “It’s probably just a bruise. Come on, the rest of the group are waiting.”

Draco rolls his eyes as you wander away, a few steps ahead of him. He watches you from behind; worry and concern still flooding his veins. Initially, he was all for the idea of a witch walk in October in Lancashire. He had complained to you a few weeks prior that he so rarely did anything spontaneously, and you had gone out of your way to surprise him with tickets to a witch walk – following the path of those executed in Britain’s most famous witch trials.

He supposes he should be more grateful because he is. He is grateful, but as he watches you rejoin the group, not missing the way you shiver against the chill of the forest, all he wants to be is tucked up in bed with you and some hot water bottles.

If anyone asked Draco for what his ideal day would look like, it would be exactly that. You, him, films, and bed. He doesn’t want much more; he doesn’t need much more. All he needs really, is you.

Draco hurries to join the rest of the group; the guide picking up where they had left off on their account of the assizes that found the ten – eight women and two men - guilty of witchcraft. Draco makes his way to your side; not missing the way you’ve tensed up with the discomfort of your palms and your knee. Gently, Draco pulls one of your hands from your pocket. He drops a kiss to the top of your hand before holding it gently in his. If he had to walk through a haunted forest on a dark and damp night in October, he would hold your hand all the way through it.

Further into the forest, the canopy of branches and leaves become heavier. It blocks out most of the natural light; creating an atmosphere perfect for a horror movie. Draco’s grip on you becomes tighter through this part of the forest; he feels like an overprotective partner, but he would do what he could to keep you from further harm.

You smile silently to yourself as you feel Draco’s arm tighten around you. “Are you okay?” You whisper.

He looks down at you, eyebrows furrowing, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

You shrug, “I just thought you might be scared with how tight you’re holding onto me.”

Draco represses another laugh, “I wouldn’t want you falling again, would I?”

You roll your eyes, “Sure, that’s why you’re holding onto me for dear life.”

Draco doesn’t reply; he only squeezes your side as he turns his attention back to the guide. Twigs continue to snap under feet and leaves are further trampled as your group make their way further into the forest; stopping every now and then for the guide to further the story – to dramatically explain the hauntings of the forest and the history behind the witch trials of the seventeenth century.

You watch the guide gesture animatedly as they explain this part of their story. The rest of the group remain enraptured, but your eyes wander. Your attention drifts from the history lesson to your surroundings; the dark green of the forest, only truly starting to turn with the arrival of autumn.

Your attention drifts to the man standing next to you; wondering just how much he loves you for him to agree to spending a night like this. In the middle of the woods in Lancashire in freezing weather. You couldn’t help but agree with him – the night could be better spent in bed watching films, but he wanted spontaneity and you provided it.

Your mind, however, doesn’t linger on the man you love for long.

It’s a silvery flicker in the corner of your eye; the ebb and flow of light that has you turning towards it. Your curiosity piqued and your mind active with questions.

You freeze at the sight of a young woman; dressed in what could only be described as clothes of the seventeenth century. The ghost; she doesn’t move – she doesn’t walk towards you or call out your name. She only stands to the side; her dress swishing silently as she hovers just above the ground.

You open your mouth; lips parting, but you don’t know what to say. Do you greet her? Do you apologise for the deeds committed by narrow minded men so long ago? Do you explain to her that the magical community still exists? The evidence standing by your side; a solid presence next to you.

Her mouth is open; her lips forming words, but you can’t hear them, and you can’t make out what she wants to say.

Cold washes over you; seeping into your bones and freezing your blood. Your teeth begin to chatter; you want to look away but curiosity piques within you. Ever so slowly, you take a step forward. All the while whispering, “Dray… can you see her?”

Draco’s attention leaves the guide and their mysterious words to focus on you; your hand starting to slip from his grasp.

“Love, what are you doing?” Draco asks carefully.

You take one more step forward; only just entering the ghost’s vicinity, “I think she needs help, Dray. I think she needs my help.”

Draco’s hand tightens on yours; pulling you back slightly, bringing you back to him and away from the spectre. “Love, we need to join the rest of the group. We can’t help her now.”

Something in his words snaps you out of your trance. Your eyes meet his and Draco is relieved to see that they are no longer clouded with concern for the spectre.

Draco’s eyes do not leave the spectre until you have stepped behind him. He doesn’t sense any danger, but his wand has slipped into his hand regardless. In a brief thought filled with humour, Draco wonders how the guide would react to finding out they have an actual wizard in their group. It’s that humorous and happy thought that it has Draco stepping away from the ghost, practically dragging you along with him.

“I didn’t say it earlier, but I’m going to say it now: I told you so.”

“You told me what?”

“I told you that we should have stayed at home.”

You roll your eyes, teasing, “But we wouldn’t be having as much fun.”

“Fun? Darling, I love you more than life itself, but I don’t think we’re having fun.”

You pout, “Why not?”

He runs a hand through his hair; noting how close you are to the group now and lowering his voice, “So far, you’ve fallen over and scraped your hands to ribbons and we don’t know what you’ve done to your knee. And just now, you were in a trance caused by a four hundred year old ghost!”

You place a hand on the side of his face; your thumb rubbing across his cheekbone, “Aside from that, you really aren’t having fun?”

He sighs realising that he’s hurt you. Draco takes your hand from his face; kissing your fingers individually, “I am having fun. I’m with you and who doesn’t love a local history lesson, but darling, I think you’ve aged me ten years tonight.”

You snort, “I promise – I’ll watch where I’m walking, and I won’t fall into any more trances. How does that sound?”

Draco kisses you quickly, “That sounds like Christmas come early.”

“I’m sorry this hasn’t been more fun. I thought we would like it when I read about it online.”

Draco frowns, “I am having fun. I just don’t think we prepared enough for it. Next time, we bring warmer jackets for definite… and a first aid kit.”

“Next time?” You ask with a raised eyebrow.

Draco chuckles; throwing an arm around your shoulders as you finally rejoin the group once again. The guide throws a questioning look your way. You smile apologetically, “I think I met the ghost of one of the women executed here.”

The guide nods understandingly, “These woods are very haunted. It’s said that they stand on the side of the path; watching us take the same route they did,” They claps their hands loudly and unexpectedly; you jump at the sound, “We’re almost at the end of the walk! Just through those trees is the top of the hill in which the accused met their end.”

From there, it doesn’t take long to reach the end of your guided tour. At the top of the hill, the guide explains just what happened to those found guilty of witchcraft and you feel a wave of sadness wash over you as you think of Draco and how his education and essentially, his whole life had to be lived in secret in order to protect his community.

The early morning sun has begun to rise; painting the sky a pale pink as the day begins anew as the guide leads you back down the well-travelled track back to where you began. The both of you release a shuddering breath as you follow the rest of the tour from the heavy trees.

You turn back just once; hoping to catch a glimpse of the spectral woman you had seen, but all you could see were the pale green leaves of trees and the dark brown of the damp forest floor.

Draco’s arm tightens on your waist; leading you further from the forest, wanting nothing more than to head back home and get tucked up in bed.

In the light of the sun, you examine your hands. Scrapes cover the bottom of your palms and mud borders each scrape. You frown, unhappy with the state your hands seem to be in, knowing that they were going to be even more tender once you had slept properly.

The sight of Draco’s car has you smiling in relief, however. It had been an interesting night to put it lightly, but now all you wanted was to be laid in bed with Draco wrapped around you. You sit down in the passenger seat; buckling up and resting your head back, letting your eyes drift shut for only a moment. Letting yourself pretend that you’re already in bed with the man you love.

Draco slides into the driver’s seat gracefully; twisting the key in the ignition and immediately putting the heater on. He rubs his hands together, hoping to warm them up quicker. He sends an amused smile your way as he put the car in gear, “Next year we’re eating sweets and watching movies.”

You hum in agreement; haunted forests and spectral witches were not the sort for you.

*********

General (HP) taglist: @chaotic-fae-queen @obsessedwithrandomthings @harrypotter289 @kalimagik @heloisedaphnebrightmore @nebulablakemurphy @figlia--della--luna @idont-knowrn @birdie-writes @big-galaxy-chaos @black-lake-confessions @annasofiaearlobe @imboredandneedalife @levylovegood @mytreec @haphazardhufflepuff @teheharrypotter @chaoticgirl04 @accio-rogers @dreaming-about-fanfictions @lestersglitterglue @msmimimerton @izzytheninja @slytherinprincess03 @acciotwinz @kashishwrites @kylosleftbuttcheek @remmyswritings @xfirstfemale-marauderx @they-write-once-in-a-blue-moon @ria-rests-here

Draco Malfoy taglist: @the--queen-of-hell @obxmxybxnk @obx-beach @sycathorn-slush @dracomalfoyswifey @kashishwrites @justmesadgirl @detroitobsessed @reaganwonders @sophia-gwendolyn @ravenclawbitch426 @fallinallinmendes

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write-orflight · 4 years

Text

Like Real People Do. Chapter 3

*Gif not mine*

Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Rating: M, eventually will be smut.

Words: 2.5k

Warnings: Sexual themes, talk about sex (not NSFW though),

Request: OPEN/CLOSED

A.N Y’all are really benefiting from my insomnia rn. I do have a plan to go back to my regular posting schedule but for right now enjoy the things starting to happen. Much love, Cia

Chapter 3: The bugs and the dirt

You’ve been on the team for about 6 months now, and you were loving it. Sure it was long hours, constant danger, and mounds of paperwork but you couldn’t be happier. You felt like you were doing what you were meant to do. The team had fully accepted you in the family around month 2. You and Morgan had become close after your “personal day” in October. He expressed that he knew what it was like to lose a parent and though he’d never understand losing both so quickly he offered you condolences and free drinks with him and Prentiss that night. Since then, the 3 of you have become good friends.

There was always the occasional girls night with Emily, JJ, and Garcia, Dinner at Rossi’s and afternoon picnics with Hotch and Jack(which eventually just turned into you babysitting Jack while Aaron took a deserved nap). Your favorite however, was Saturday’s with Spencer.

The two of you had fallen asleep that Friday night him and Garcia came over to watch Doctor Who. You woke up laid on top of him, legs tangled while your head was resting on his chest tucked under his chin. His arms were wrapped around you, hand resting heavily on the small of your back. You try to get up without waking him but of course you do, he startles awake in turn startling you causing you to fall off the couch.

“Oh, Y/N,I’m so sorry--” He starts, immediately flushing. He stands to immediately help you up.

“No worries, Spen. Not made of glass.” You laugh.

He blushes more at the new nickname. “Spen?” he asks.

“Uh, yea.” You say. “Do you not like it?”

“No-no, I like it.” He says.

“Ok then.” You smile. “Do you have plans today?” He shakes his head. “Well, Saturday’s when I usually get coffee and work on homework at a cafe down the street, do you maybe wanna tag along?” you ask. He nods furiously.

And every Saturday you guys had free since Spencer would meet you in the small cafe near your apartment. He would order an Americano with an ungodly amount of sugar and you would get a cold brew, despite it being winter still and you would sit and talk while you did work. Often he would help you with your thesis, telling you things you should add or consider. Sometimes you would just sit and talk about books you’ve both read or often you would explain the plots to various reality shows you know Spencer would never watch but he would sit and listen intently just like he did with everything you said. He treated every word that came out of your mouth like it was the most important thing in the world, treated every minuscule fact he learned about you, like it was treasured information to solving the mystery in front of him. You had become his personal cryptid.

Of course the rest of the team had caught on to your Saturdays together, you worked with profilers and a very gossipy tech analyst. The amount of times you two had walked in together from being called in for a case last minute was enough to give you away. You thought back to a very uncomfortable conversation you had with Hotch one morning. You had come to drop off files JJ just pawned off to you to take upstairs. You held up your hand in a small wave walking into the office door. You put the files on his desk, starting to walk out when he stops you.

“Y/N, we need to talk for a second. Close the door.” Hotch says. You nodded closing the door. You immediately tried to rattle off everything you’d done wrong to Hotch that could possibly warrant a talk. I forgot his coffee order that one time it was my turn, I missed Jack’s birthday once, I took a nap in the file room. You thought, all weren’t good but none warranted a closed door talk.

“Yes, sir?” you ask, he gives you a weird look before it dissipates into his usual scowl, neither of you used to the professional formalities still.

“I’m sure you’re aware of the FBI’s fraternization policy.” He says.

“Yes, sir…?” You say, not knowing where he was going with this. You weren’t fraternizing with anyone and no one knew that more than you except maybe your right hand.

“Now there’s things I’d be willing to overlook as long as you don’t let it affect your work. But you would have to tell me and you would have to fill out an office relationship form--”

“Whoa-wait a second.” you say. “What’re we talking about?”

“If there’s something going on between you and Spencer you would have--”

“Hotch! There’s nothing going on between me an--What?” You say, you knew you had to be beet red right now. God this is humiliating. You thought.

“Really?” he said.

“Yes! There’s nothing going on.”

“But you guys have been together every week--”

God, how did he even know that. “He’s helping me with my thesis, Hotch!” you exclaim, if this conversation continued you were going to be the same shade of red as the shirt you were wearing. “Why do you even know about that?”

“Garcia.” he says, matter-of-factly.

Of course, Garcia.

“Well, there’s nothing going on so now you can save the fraternization speech for someone else.” You move to stand.

“You want there to be.” He points out. “Something going on, I mean.”

“Oh my god. Aaron, I have a deep amount of respect for you and I revere you very much as a role model.” you say. “That being said, I will not be discussing my nonexistent love life with my boss! Jesus!” You exclaim. You see the smile ghosting his lips. He always enjoyed embarrassing you. “Can I leave now?” you asked.

He nodded, waving his hand to dismiss you. You walk out of the office back to your desk, conveniently across from Spencer’s.

“What did Hotch need?” He asked you.

“Nothing!” You say instantly. Spencer just shrugged, returning to the file he had been reading.

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

Now you were here in the present, at a bar with the team celebrating the final results you had gotten back on your doctoral thesis. The Diploma hasn't come in the mail yet but it was official, you were officially Dr. Y/N Y/L/N.

“To Dr. Y/N.” Garcia said, raising the shots Prentiss had just handed to you, Morgan and JJ. Rossi and Hotch raised their beers and Spencer clinked his water he’d been nursing to your shot glass. You smiled at her, before taking the shot quickly grimacing at the harshness of the alcohol.

“Thanks, you guys.” You say, smiling widely. Your plan before to celebrate your doctorate had been to draw a bubble bath and try not to think of the student loans you’d accumulated. But of course Garcia being the genius and snoop that she was found out your results and insisted on a night out.

“Y/N.” Emily said, getting your attention. “I think you should get the next round of drinks because that guy at the bar has been staring at you all night.” She said, leaning close to you to point at him. You look up to see a fairly built, tan man, with brown eyes and a well-maintenanced beard. Due to the amount of drinks you had and your inhibitions lowered, you smile at him automatically. He smiles back, lifting his drink to his mouth still looking at you. You look back down.

“I don’t know, Emily.” You say, looking down at your mixed drink.

“Come on, Y/N. We both know it’s been a while and you said you weren’t going to focus on that until you finished your doctorate.” Emily smirks, nudging you. “Now you’re finished so, come on, write him a prescription, Doc.” She laughs, inducing a few giggles from the rest of the group. Except for Rossi and Hotch who weren’t paying attention and Spencer, who seemed bothered but you didn’t know by what.

“Hold on, mama, I have to know what a while means.” Derek says, laughing.

“It means a while~” Emily says, exaggerating the last word so that it was extra long.

“Yea, a long~ while.” Garcia says, joining in, giggling all the while.

“Ok, didn’t know you guys were moonlighting as comedians.” You say sarcastically, rolling your eyes. You turn towards Derek, the alcohol clearly lowered your inhibitions enough to answer his question. “I mean, I went through the phase everyone went through in the first couple years of college. Partying, drinking, and unfortunately ending up in a frat guys bed, but after a while I realized that I had different goals then most of my peers so I put all my focus on getting my degrees. I’d say that was when I was what? 19?” You said, recalling.

Morgan almost did a spit take, “6 years?”

“Don’t make it sound so incredulous!” You say, drinking your mixed drink. “I was busy!”

“Sounds like you and Pretty boy can start your own celibacy club!” Morgan says, patting Spencer back, laughing.

“I’m not celibate, Morgan.” Reid says, rolling his eyes.

“Pfft,” you blow a raspberry, incredulously. “When’s the last time you’ve gotten any?” Whoa, you had to have been drunk because you never would’ve asked anything like that sober.

“It certainly hasn’t been 6 years.” He says back to you, smirking over his glass of water.

“Whatever.” You roll your eyes. “Seriously, When?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

You would.

You would very much like to know.

“Whatever, it doesn’t matter because I’ll still be the last one after I go get that guy’s number.” You say, downing your drink for liquid courage before standing to go to the bar, towards the guy who had been looking at you before. Sure, your game was a little rusty but you were a profiler and now a doctor of psychology, men were...simple.

Reid watched you go, your hips swaying way more as they usually do as you sauntered towards the man her and Prentiss had been talking about before. He saw you smiling at the guy who had just purchased you another drink. You trailed a hand down the man’s chest, as he moved closer into your space. Spencer looked away, he was going to be sick if he kept watching that.

“Hey, Emily, do you see that?” Garcia said.

“No, Penelope what is it?” She said indulging her.

“It’s our friend, slowly turning into the green eyed monster.” Garcia said looking back to Reid, the table erupting in laughter.

Reid leaned back. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure, you don’t.” Emily says, rolling her eyes. “Look Spence, If you like her you should say something and if you don’t, you can’t get upset about her looking for something else out there.” Spencer didn’t say anything to that, opting to turn his attention back to you. He watched you laugh at something the guy had said and a smile crossed his face. That wasn’t your laugh, he knew your laugh. Your real laugh, and thanks to his eidetic memory he could (and did) replay it whenever he wanted. He knew your laugh and that wasn’t it.

He watched as you sauntered back up to the group. He already had trouble focusing on anything that wasn’t your body most of the time and the dress you wore tonight didn’t make it any better. A simple, deep blue dress that held your curves perfectly with a large slit up the leg that was probably to make it easier to walk in though right now all it was doing was distracting Spencer. You slid into the both back next to Prentiss.

“So…” Emily said, smiling. “How’d it go?”

“Oh, I got his number.” You say, nonchalantly. You knew you would, it’s not like regular men were a challenge to you. Every man wanted 2 things; to think they’re funny and to think they’re smart.

“Nice!” She says, holding her hand out you instantly slap it with your own. “Are you going to call him?”

“Probably not.” You shrug. “We’ll see if I get bored this week.”

That causes all the girls in the group to giggle. The night continued, more drinks being put in your system by your friends who want you to truly celebrate. Eventually Rossi and Hotch leave, both hugging you tightly, Hotch whispering a quick “I’m proud of you” in your ear. You smile brightly back at him.

Towards closing time you all leave, you’re a little more sober than before but you’re definitely still tipsy. You all say your goodbyes, promises to see each other at work then Spencer stretches an arm around your waist, ushering you to his car as he agreed to be your DD before.

He slides you into the seat before climbing in on the drivers side.

“Thanks Spen, I know you hate driving.” You say, patting Spencer on the leg.

“No problem, Y/N” He smiles back at you, before turning his attention back to the road. You notice your hands still on his leg. He hasn’t tried to move it or move away from it so the alcohol in your system decides to take a risk and inch your hand up his thigh. One of his hands leaves the steering wheel immediately grasping your hand.

“Stop.” He says, not sounding entirely convinced that’s what he wants himself. So you ask.

“Do you want me to stop?” You say, innocently.

“Obviously, I don’t want you to stop but you’re not sober so you have to.” He says, moving your hand back to your own lap. You decide it’s probably best to concede and lean your head against the cool glass of the window as street lamps roll by.

Eventually, you make it back to your house. You sigh before turning to Spencer.

“Thanks again, Spen.” You say, moving to grab your bag and the door handle. “I’ll see you at work.” Before you can move fully, Long fingers are circling your wrist.

“You shouldn’t call him.” He says.

“What?” You say, dazed by the close contact between you two.

“The guy from the bar. You shouldn’t call him.” He says.

“Why not?” You ask. You know the answer, or you think you know the answer but you have to hear him say it. You need to hear him say it.

“Because I-” He cuts himself off. “I don’t know.” he says, looking down very dejected.

“Well…” You say. You lean close to him. You guys are close, so close if you wanted you could kiss him and you know he would let you by the way his eyes flutter, pupils dilating instantly when you do. “Will you tell me when you figure it out?” You ask.

He nods, letting go of the wrist you forgot he was holding.

“Well then.” You say, getting out of the car and leaning through the open window. “Goodnight, Dr. Reid.” You smile.

“Goodnight, Dr. Y/L/N.” He smiles back, before driving into the night.

Taglist: @haylaansmi @yoruebeautiful @kianagilder-blog @l0ve-0f-my-life @bihoeofmanyfandoms @dreamer7black @baby-banana @drreidshands

#spencer reid x reader smut #spencer x reader smut #bau x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid x you #spencer x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer x reader

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lethesomething · 4 years

Text

The ghost and the witch

I am still dealing with the emotional gut punch that is the ending of Ghost of Tsushima, so have a very indulgent… fluff piece? My proofreaders have told me I can’t call it a comfort fic, so let’s go with ‘soft fic with canon levels of angst’ instead.

Tags: Jin Sakai x Reader, fluff, soft, comfort (?), angst, ridiculously poetic descriptions of nature, ludicrous levels of symbolism, so much pining

You scoop the dry green dust into the pouch, carefully checking the weight on a tiny brass scale. With a small wooden spoon, you stir the dust into the clay powder and dried grass already present, checking the contents of the pouch one final time before closing it up and using a few quick stitches to secure it.

"There." You add the pouch to the pile and hold out the order. "One bag of stomach salts for the Fushikawa boy, and five wound ointments. That should keep you going for a while longer."

The Ghost, sitting in seiza on the opposite side of the table, bows his head as he takes them.

"Thank you."

He looks tired, sweat and mud mixing with caked blood on his brow. You're fairly sure it's not his, but that knowledge does not soothe you as much as you'd like. There are hard lines in that face, drawn by sacrifice and pain, etched in stubbornness and unwavering, never-ending pursuit.

"It would be better if you rested, lord Sakai."

He looks up. His eyes are clear and focused, crisp as the winds blowing up the northern cliffs of the island.

"Please, call me Jin."

"My apologies," you say, "force of habit."

"I don't recall you ever calling me 'lord' when we were young," he grumbles.

"That's because you wanted it too much back then," you grin. "But either way. Jin. Please take a rest. Your body cannot keep this up, no matter how tight your resolve is. You need actual sleep. You can stay the night if you want. You'll be safe here."

His gaze drops down and his brow knots, as if he's thinking over a new concept, something so foreign to him that it leads to confusion. Then he gets up. "The boy."

You're not about to argue. He's the most stubborn man you've ever met. With a sigh you follow him to the door of your house. "Then come back."

His retreating form stops briefly. The wind twirls leaves around his silhouette, outlined against the moss-covered trees. It's late in the afternoon, and light comes down the canopy like droplets, skittering from branch to branch until it falls to the ground in ever smaller pools. Shadows rule here, hiding his face, obscuring even the horse trotting to his hand. "I'll see what I can do," he says, and then he's off.

----

Rain beats like hooves on the roof, mercifully muffled by the thick layers of thatch and greenery that shield your abode from prying eyes. Still, for a short moment your heart stops when you hear the screen door softly slide open, and just as quickly, slide shut. He stands there, slick with rain and glowing faintly orange in the light coming from the fire. "Excuse my interruption," he says.

You shake your head. "Welcome back." Embers fall off a log in the fire, popping and crackling. The rain drums above you. "Have you eaten?"

"A little," he mumbles, too stubborn to admit to hunger, but not composed enough to keep his eyes from wandering over the shelves for supplies you may have.

Movement comes to you in a sudden rush. "Sit down, I have some millet porridge leftover."

"You don't have to-"

You wave away his concern. "And I have water in the hearth, I'll draw you a bath."

"That's really not necessary," he starts saying, but he stops when you turn and raise an eyebrow at him.

"Yes it is."

For a long moment he halts, as if to take stock of the dirt, the sweat, the blood, the horse hair dampened by the rain but not washed away fully. He watches the fire, breathes in the smell of herbs that fills the very air inside this house and looks towards you, bustling over a pot of warm food. He nods. "Alright," he concedes, and gets comfortable on the floor. "Thank you."

---

Steam rises, curling and dancing in intricate patterns toward the rafters. Jin rests his back against bamboo planks and rolls his neck. The tub is just big enough to submerge his lower half in warm, fragrant water. Whatever it is you’ve put in there smells nice. Calming. He takes a cloth and rinses it, before he wipes it on his face and shoulders, rubbing away what feels like years of grime and fatigue.

You’re tending to the fire, your form similar, but somehow more graceful than what it was. Your hair is longer, the skin on your hands rougher, but the years have not taken much else from you. Certainly the bright flame behind those eyes is still present, unrelenting and unyielding in the face of everything.

You look up. “Did you want me to do your back?”

He blinks. “Uhhh.”

And then you smile, and that hasn’t changed either. Your lips curl up in a way that could be read as polite or mischievous, depending on the outlook. He’s always been fond of it.

“Please,” he says.

-- -

You sit on a stool by the bath and knead the heated skin on his shoulders between your fingers, the pads of your thumbs running small circles on his neck. His back is a patchwork of colours, from dark purple bruises to blues and reds and yellows.

You try to avoid the more painful looking blotches while you make your way down, but he does not protest at your touch. He’s silent, save for an occasional sigh and a roll of the neck.

He’s grown, you notice. There is a dignity and a will to him that he lacked when he was younger. You’re well aware of what he’s doing, the lives he chooses to take, and those he chooses to save. You know of the enemies he’s made. Part of you is very proud of him. Another fears for his wellbeing at every turn. The path he’s chosen is not an easy one to walk.

“How long has it been since you last washed your hair,” you ask into the silence that sits on top of the rumbles of fire and the splash of water.

“I’m not letting you do that,” he says lowly.

“Can I at least pick out the leaves?”

He chuckles. “If that’s what you want.” He leans back against the side of the tub and lets his head fall towards your knees. “Next you’ll ask me if you can shave me as well.”

“Would you let me,” you say, tugging at the cord that holds his bun together.

He grins. “I just might.”

He closes his eyes and a curtain of black falls across your lap. You take a silver comb, one of your few treasures, and start gently tugging at the knots, unraveling the work of the sea and the wind.

---

Jin leans back and closes his eyes. Your comb runs across his scalp in languid, repeating motions, like waves lapping at a beach. He times his breathing to their rhythm and sits there, relishing in the soft intimacy of your hands.

There is comfort in the motions of your fingers running across his head. The smell of camellia’s is faint but nostalgic as you comb out the strands and oil them. It’s been a long time since he felt this warm, this content.

“Can I ask you something,” he says.

“Go ahead.”

“Why did you leave?”

Your hands pause for a second, but do not falter. Your fingers continue their gentle motion, starting at the scalp and gliding down to part the hair, followed by the comb.

“I suppose they never told you.” He feels a weight to those words, but can’t quite make it out.

“I have always wondered,” he says. “I didn’t really understand what happened. One day you were just gone.”

“Jin.”

The weight shifts. There is a pause, a silence in which your fingers keep moving and steam fills the void between the two of you. The rain outside has stopped, he notices, and then you take a breath.

“We were close,” you say. “Close enough for people to notice.” Your voice gains a raspy edge, as if it is difficult to speak. “I was not good enough. Not for you.”

“That’s-”

But you continue before he can form the sentence. “It was decided that it would be best that I move north, so as not to needlessly distract you from your studies.”

He swallows. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t know.”

“That was, perhaps, for the best,” you say softly, and your fingers start gathering his hair. “You were not in a position to do anything about it.” You collect the strands in the palm of one hand, smoothing up any stragglers with the other.

“The last I heard was that you were to marry one of clan Terushima’s retainers, but you didn’t.”

“I did not,” you hum behind him, as you coil his hair and tie it with a thin piece of string. “I’m sure he was nice enough, but I was never going to be some random man’s wife. I decided on a different path.”

You tap his shoulder and Jin sits up, takes in the herbs drying from the ceiling, the shelves of jars and powders. The pebbles, the statues, the trinkets. “You did,” he says, and he watches as you wipe down the comb and carefully fold it in embroidered silk, a piece of an old kimono he vaguely remembers, and store it in a box on the shelves.

“Do you regret it?” he asks.

You shake your head and carefully put away the oil. You rinse your hands in a bowl of water and dry them thoroughly. You set your shoulders before turning to him. “No path is easy to walk, Jin. Especially if you follow what you feel is right,” you say, finally. “Some roads are smoother than others, but we all crash into the walls and thorns confining us eventually. Whether you pull back from the edge or push through is up to you. We all do what we must.”

“We do,” Jin says quietly. His eyes feel heavy now. The fragrant water hanging thick in the air seems to call out, beckoning his senses deeper into the mist. When he looks up again, you are standing by his side, a towel in your hands.

“And you must really rest, so get out of there while I pick up some more firewood in the shed.”

---

The birdsong of early morning filters through the blankets of vegetation that swaddle your house. The light will take a little longer to get here, traveling all the way from the top of the forest canopy like honey oozing off a spoon.

You get up from a nest of fabric and straighten your clothes, combing your hair with a wooden pick before tying it back.

The Ghost lies on a mat in the corner, chest slowly rising and falling.

You poke the dying embers in the fire, sparking them back to life. There are many things to do: clothes to darn, balms to brew, but for now you are content to sit here and listen to soft breaths as you watch the sparks rekindle, adding branches to a fire that is sure to burn you if you continue to let it grow.

---

Jin Sakai adjusts the strap of his glove, tightening it. There is a dull ache in his chest that he didn’t notice before today. It has come to the foreground now that many of his other stings and pains have found relief.

His breath is deeper, his head is clear. The deep, gnawing exhaustion that turned his every movement into a deliberate act, a decision to go on despite the waves crashing down, is shallow now. It tugs at his feet like mud, enough to annoy, but not to trip him, certainly not enough to stop him.

You’re leaning against the door style, arms folded. Your lips are curled, smiling, but your eyes are not.

He sighs. The sun dapples you with blossoms of light, crowns you in golden glory. Slowly, his hand reaches up, fingers tracing the line of your jaw.

You blink rapidly up at him. “Jin?”

A sudden gust of wind whirls around you, tugging pieces of thatch off the roof and blowing strands of hair into your face, obscuring your vision.

He leans in and softly, briefly, places his lips on your forehead. “Thank you,” he whispers. “For everything.”

#jin sakai x reader #fanfic #fluff short #ghost of tsushima

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thebmatt · 3 years

Text

FFXIV Write 2021 Prompt #22: Fluster

Fluster – make someone agitated or confused.

Aetherytes were constantly busy. You learned pretty quick to move away from one as soon as you manifested next to one, lest someone suddenly appear next to you and knock you both down.

Old Man Franks, tired as he was, almost forgot this, and only barely missed being clipped by an arriving Roegadyn armed with an enormous spear on his back.

He quickly moved out of the plaza and cast a quick glance about, and then raised his hand to his ear, activating his linkpearl

Rheika’s voice answered him. “Heya Franks. You get to the Toll already?”

“Yeah, I’m here. I take it you’re not?”

“Not yet. Fearless isn’t answering her ‘pearl, so Dahk and I went to her place. Ranaa said she and Makoto went to the Sekiseigumi HQ, so we’re headed there. Turns out she left it at home. Again. Anyway, go on in and figure out what’s going on, we’ll be there as soon as we find her. “

“Copy that. Hopefully whatever this is can be resolved fast. I need to catch up on some sleep.”

“Did you stay up all night working on cross-world portals again?”

“I admit nothing, see you soon.” He disconnected the link before she could chastise him further and headed into the Seventh Heaven bar. A few of the regular patrons tossed greetings his way, which he returned as best he could in his sleep-deprived state,

The bouncer who guarded the door to the Rising Stones nodded at him and stepped aside. Franks strode in, turning to shut the door behind him quietly. Darn thing tended to slam, he’d been meaning to install something to slow it down. Maybe after some rest today.

“All right, Tataru, what is this emergency…about…” Midway through his sentence, he’d turned to face the room. Sitting at one of the table were Tataru, Y’shtola, and someone who shouldn’t be there. Someone who couldn’t possibly be there. Because she was dead.

Standing up at the table, hand over her mouth and tears streaming from beautiful sea-green eyes that he hadn’t witnessed in years, was a viera woman that happened to be the spitting living image of the woman he’d married so long ago.

She dropped her hand, looking for all the world as happy as the day they’d wed. “Hello, my love.”

Twelve forfend, it sounded like her too. “What the hells is this? No…you’re dead, this is some kind of trick!” He pointed a shaking finger. “You’re a godsdamned Ascian, you HAVE to be! How the hells did you make someone look like her??”

She ran to him. “Darling, no, it’s me, I swear it!” She moved in close, trying to embrace him, but he backed away, shock and anger on his face.

“Fandaniel, that you? Because you just crossed a fucking line, you piece of filth, and I’m going to make you regret it!”

The woman looks over to Y’shtola, panicking. “He…what’s happening, who does he think I am?”

Y’shtola has already moved next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and holding the other with her hand. “Aleister, I swear to you on my life, this is not a trick. Do you remember how Rheika unmasked Elidibus, by tricking him about the Amaro? It proved that an Ascian can’t access memories of their hosts, do you recall that?”

He had stopped backing away, but his eyes didn’t waver from the woman who looked like his wife. He nodded.

Y’shtola looked to her. “Tell him something that only you would know. Something you’d never reveal under even the gravest duress.”

Her eyes danced back and forth, considering, thinking. Finally, they widened and she smiled again. Closer and closer, she approached him, but now he didn’t move. Could….could it be?

She whispered in his ear and he cried out in joy. His world faded, and there was nothing more than the woman in front of him. He pulled her in, crushing against her. Her arms wrapped around his back and pulled in just as strong. So many sensations, so many memories flooded him, and he took all of them in. The scent of her, the feel of her living body preseed to him, the sound of her voice as she whispers her love between sobs. He could not reply, too overwhelmed to cry and breathe.

Tataru moved next to Y’shtola, unable to take her eyes off of the embracing pair. “It…it really is her.”

Y’shtola nods.

“But…how?”

“I think that story is best told to us from them. Once everyone has joined us. I think our resident Old Man may finally be ready to open up, since the loss that caused him so much pain is no longer lost at all.”

Finally, Franks was able to catch his breath and he pulled back to look at her. He kept her close, arms wrapped around her waist, as though he feared she might vanish into mist if he let go. For her part, she likewise kept her arms solidly behind his neck. “Gwen….I…I don’t understand. They…multiple people told me they saw you get taken by Sylvanas’ death squads. We…” He hiccuped. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he kept going. “We scattered when we heard you got taken…that’s, that’s how I ended up here.”

She smiled. “They were right. I was put in with dozens of others, taken to a camp somewhere in Hillsbrad, couldn’t tell you where exactly. We were lined up. Living prisoners had their names taken, checked off a list, then executed right then and there. Some were….were fed to the soldiers. Others to plaguehounds. But for whatever reason, they didn’t kill the Forsaken. Maybe she had sentimentality about us, or maybe she planned to do it later, but we were just shoved into a makeshift prison and left there. We got food occasionally, but no interaction otherwise. Just neverending boredom. Zenjulin and Beskar finally found the place and killed off the few remaining loyalists that still manned it, freeing us.”

She shuddered. “By that point, the Banshee had fucked off to…wherever it was she went. I don’t know. Zenjulin explained it, but I wasn’t listening very well. Or he was missing details, I don’t know. Anyway, he said that our allies were being brought back together to stop her and whatever else she’d brought with her, but that you were still missing. I told them I refused to do anything until I found you. They understood, and I started tracking your movement. Which was hard, because you’d concealed them well, but eventually I made it to Stranglethorn and discovered the cave, the one Y’shtola tells me you came to that same one and it brought you here.”

Franks looked over to Y’shtola, who smiled. “I went there to take some readings, and found her emerging out of the cave. Once I realized who she was, I brought her straight here and had Tataru contact you.”

“Thank you.”

She shook her head. “There is nothing to thank.”

Franks looked back to Gwen. “I… gods, Gwen, you look like the day I asked you to marry me. Even despite all the years, both living and dead, I recognized you right away. I…I actually hallucinated last night…I saw you. Worked for too long without sleeping again. You looked…almost exactly as you do now.” He chuckles. “You uh…you didn’t have these, though”.

He reached up to stroke the fur of her ears. She made a very happy noise at the touch. “Okay, those are definitely a little sensitive, good to know.” She cuddled up against his shoulder, enjoying the sensation.

Eventually he stopped and pulled back again, looking her over. Everything was the same, her long graying hair, two green eyes, one slightly darker than the other, on a heart-shaped face. Everything save the ears. He vaguely recalled the shape of her human ears, but they were no longer there.

She giggled. “I…I don’t know what changed me or why it gave me my youthful body with these ears, honestly. You, though, you look a little bit older than the day you asked me to marry you. Maybe…around our 10th anniversary, I’d guess? Bit more white though, not that I mind. That haircut’s definitely a lot better, someone’s been taking care of you on that front, I see.

She placed her hands on his arms, rubbing them appreciatively. She moves them to his chest and down to his abs, sculpted like they’d been in his younger days from long hard hours of farmwork. “And I see you’ve definitely been taking care of the rest of you. Been way too long since I’ve seen these muscles.” she purred.

Franks laughed nervously. “Well, um….you get a second chance like this, you tend to appreciate and take care of things you took for granted…before.” His hands slipped down to her hips.

Their eyes met, growing lidded. Slowly, he ran his hands up her sides, appreciating every ilm of her curves, ghosting the sides of her breasts. He pulled her close, and their lips met in a kiss they’d not been able to share in decades.

Memories of all of their favorite intimate moments with the other flooded their minds, and both had a realization that those moments could now not only be remembered, but now relived. The rest of the world had long been forgotten and their kisses and touches became more heated when the world suddenly reminded them that it was still there.

“Ahem”

The pair broke, looking in the direction of the voice. The other Warriors of Light and the senior members of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn had all entered and were staring at the pair in varying levels of confusio

Rheika spoke up. It had been her voice that broke into their moment, Franks realized. “I hate to interrupt your moment, I swear I do, but uh…didn’t we have some kind of emergency? Also, um, who is this? Not that you don’t deserve to kiss someone that gorgeous, but I feel like I’m missing part of the story here.”

Franks laughs. Both he and Gwenefyr have turned beet red having realized just how much of a crowd their reunion had attracted. “Ah, yes. Um, well, everyone…allow me to introduce you all to Gwenefyr Franks. My…not quite late wife, as it turns out”

She giggled at that. “Hi, everyone. Y’shtola’s told me a little about you all. I…think I recognize at least some of you from her stories.”

Franks looked over everyone. Thancred, Estinien, and Alisaie weren’t even masking their suspicion. Dahkar, Alphinaud, and Rheika wore expressions of shock. Fearless looked like she was going to explode with joy. Urianger just looed perplexed.

It was Thancred who stepped forward. “Franks….are you sure? I mean, we’ve seen the Asicans puppet dead bodies before..

He immediately shook his head. “No, no, I thought the same thing. But remember, Elidibus didn’t have access to Ardbert’s memories so Y’shtola asked her to tell me something only she would know. It…it’s definitely her.”

Gwen took his hand and looked to the gunbreaker. “Thancred, right?”

Thancred nodded.

“Y’shtola told me you’d probably be the hardest to convince. I don’t know what to say or do to prove to you that I’m not a…..Asican, was it? But I’ll do whatever it takes to prove it to you. To all of you. Because I’m not going anywhere.” She looked up to her husband. “Right?”

He looked right back to her, his eyes sad. “I…don’t think I can go back there again. Not if it means…going back to the way our forms were.Are you…okay with that? With leaving it all behind? I promise, this place is…it’s worth it.”

She nodded. “I don’t think I can either. Azeroth has taken enough from us. And the others…they told me they won’t be surprised if we don’t return to the fight. They’re prepared to keep working towards the dream, but they’ll have to do it without us. I’m not going anywhere without you, love. We have a second chance at actual life and I’m not going back to a world without it or without you.”

Alphinaud speaks up. “Apologies, but did you say Azeroth? I’ve not heard of such a place.”

Franks nods. “Yeah. That’s….that’s the other reason I’m pretty confident she’s not an Ascian. And it’s a story most of y’all long overdue for hearing. And now that I have…gods I can’t believe I have you back…ahem. Well, there’s just no point in hiding it anymore. Gather round…time I told the full story of where I….where we are actually from.”

#Final Fantasy XIV #FFXIV 2021 Writing Challenge #oldmanfranks #Aleister Franks #Gwenefyr Franks #Rheika Aliapoh #oh I am so happy I got to write this reunion.#I tried writing the time they were reunited in WoW and it just felt unnatural and weird.#This is so much better

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