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creative-frequency · 5 months

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Astarion x Reader: Contradictions and Other Counter-Measures Ch.4

Summary: Finally you get someone around the camp who can cook. It's a shame that he can't take special diets into account. Word count: 2081

Previous chapter

CHAPTER 4: Sunbathing

After pulling the mighty Gale of Waterdeep from his self-imposed predicament (and slapping the wizard’s dangling hand before helping him, much to Astarion’s delight), your party of now five members takes a moment to rest and prepare in camp.

Everyone was quick to forget their initial shock of a daywalking vampire spawn and you think Astarion seems to be in a better mood with the heavy secret off his chest. Unfortunately, better mood in his case seems to correlate to being a pompous, exuberant and decidedly flirtatious asshat.

At least Gale seems to be the perfect gentleman, much to Astarion’s chagrin. The wizard is also quick to make clear his love for cooking, essentially volunteering to become the group’s designated cook.

You get to know each other in the midst of preparing supplies for a late lunch with Gale and Shadowheart. Lae’zel is out hunting. Astarion hangs back, pretending to read one of his books but you just know his ears are perked up, waiting for the moment the conversation turns interesting.

“Gale, do you know how to make potato scones? We have some potatoes left in one of these bags,” you say and rummage through a box to find the said bag.

“Oh certainly!” Gale perks up with a smile. “It would be my pleasure to cook them for you the next time we camp, my lady.”

He bows. You giggle in a manner that your noble-born parents would be proud of. Astarion sneers from behind his book.

“It was about time to have someone eager to cook here,” Shadowheart quips, reminding you how none of you have had a proper meal since being taken by mind flayers. Or well, maybe Astarion has.

“Say no more, Shadowheart. I shall take care of all your culinary needs henceforth,” Gale boasts, “But first, I’m going to fetch one of my favourite recipe books. Ladies, just a moment, please.”

Gale runs back to his tent. You and Shadowheart glance at each other with faint, accepting smiles. The wizard is a welcome addition to your group and his arcane knowledge will surely come in handy in the adventures to come.

Unfortunately, not everyone is as delighted about your new companion.

“What a charming fellow that magician of yours is,” Astarion says dryly, as if he has not been waiting for the chance to say a couple of choice words about Gale.

“Yes, if by ‘charming’ you mean polite, funny and very much helpful,” you reply and motion towards the ingredients.

Astarion’s eyes narrow and he slams the book shut.

“Don’t be so crestfallen, Astarion. You got, well…” Shadowheart shrugs and counts her fingers. “I guess one out of three depending on the circumstances,” she says coolly.

“I would’ve used ‘over-enthusiastic’,” Astarion continues, unamused. He turns away to retire inside his tent with the book.

You heave a sigh and rub your temples. Apparently vampire spawns could die from being co-operative and kind.

“Everything alright?” Gale questions as he returns with the recipe book. It looks well-loved and surprisingly thick.

“Yes. What would you need today for cooking? I’ll pack the rest away and seal it so it doesn’t spoil.” You glance one last time at Astarion’s tent and decide that trying to force him to be included in camp activities isn’t worth it. At least not yet.

“An excellent idea. Let me see…” Gale muses and opens the book.

His claims of being a wizard in both the occupational sense and in the kitchen prove themselves true when you finally taste the stew he created from whatever you had laying around. It’s a miracle you even happened to have cooking utensils and a pot at camp.

“Gale, this is the best meal I’ve had in this camp,” Shadowheart praises and promptly proceeds to devour the food, disregarding all lady-like manners.

“Even though the standards were exceedingly low,” Lae’zel reminds her. “Eat quickly, we will still need to move before nightfall.”

“Yes, yes…” you hum in reply and weep at not having time to enjoy the lunch properly.

“Astarion, please, help yourself,” Gale says and motions towards the almost empty cooking pot.

Astarion scoffs at the offer and his turned up nose scrunches. “No, thank you.”

Gale’s brows furrow, but Astarion is not done. You strive to chew the food faster in case an intervention or a polymorph is needed.

“Such culinary delights are not exactly for me,” Astarion continues in a derisive tone.

“You look like you could use a hearty meal, though,” the wizard points out with a shrug. He seems more confused rather than irked at Astarion’s unfriendliness.

“Might I say, when I choose to have a meal, rest assured – it won’t be of your making,” Astarion says.

Gale’s brows furrow. “And might I say you’re ill-mannered and rude for refusing even to give it a taste, but to each their own, I guess.”

Astarion sneers at Gale and just as the wizard notices the suspiciously protruding fangs, you intervene. You step up in between the men and shoot a decimating glare at Astarion.

“Apologies, Gale, we forgot to tell you about Astarion’s special diet: he is a vampire spawn,” you explain.

“You can’t just go around telling people that,” Astarion screeches and glares back at you.

Gale takes in the revelation without so much as a blink.

“Oh. In that case, Astarion, I’d like you to know that I taste extremely bad. Also apologies for what I said about your manners,” he says matter-of-factly.

“No, he did deserve it,” you add in a huff before Astarion can graciously forgive Gale.

“So the tadpole allows you to walk in the sun. How curious.” Gale taps his chin, examining Astarion.

“Apparently yes, now if you’ll excuse me, I shall go enjoy the day up the hill where it’s less crowded.” Astarion turns on his heels dramatically and stomps away.

“Dramatic as always,” Shadowheart mutters.

“Excuse me,” you say to Gale and Shadowheart, pick up one of the food baskets and hurry after the petulant vampire spawn.

Astarion plops down on the lush grass at the top of the hill. The sky is cloudless and the sun casts its warming rays on his pale skin. Looks like he is almost glowing as he takes in the sunshine. It must be unimaginable to be able to leave the shadows and bask in the daylight. He reminds you of the cat that used to enjoy resting on top of the warm baking oven back at home. Though the cat didn’t have the tendency to try and bite you.

The hill is steeper than it seemed, so Astarion can definitely hear you trudging after him, trying to catch a breath.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have blurted your secret out like that.” Carefully, you sit down next to him. “But you could’ve been nicer to him.”

Astarion sighs and leans back on his hands, turning his face upwards to the sun. “No matter. At least Gale took it unexpectedly well.”

“Mm. Our next companion might not,” you continue.

Astarion glances at you.

“True. But we still have bigger issues,” he remarks.

Your tadpoles hum in recognition, but you’re quick to block out the connection. Since the initial meetings after the crash, you’ve done your best to stay out of your companions’ heads.

“What do you have there?” Astarion asks to change the subject, nodding towards the basket.

“Dessert. Sugar buns, bananas, pomegranate and sunmelon.” You glance at him, unsure. “I’m assuming you don’t want any?”

Astarion’s lips curl into that wicked half-smile and you brace yourself.

“Oh there is something far more tastier than bread and fruits.”

He takes your hand and brings it to his lips, slowly, with ample time and opportunities for you to draw back. His touch is cool; his body temperature is clearly lower than yours. You can see the small quiver as he inhales the scent of your skin; your blood.

“I’m not your afternoon snack, Astarion,” you say quietly, but at the same time realise how weak it sounds.

The corners of his lips curl up and he looks directly into your eyes. “No, darling, you are a five course meal.”

Your heart speeds into such a rapid pace that you feel faint. For a fleeting moment you think he is going to bite your wrist, but he only presses his lips on your palm and lets it go. The spot tingles after his touch.

You turn away and busy yourself with the contents of the basket to hide your burning cheeks. Astarion’s behaviour seems to be getting bolder with each passing day. Biting at the slightly stale sugar bun, you sit in silence under the sun. Astarion’s eyes are closed, face angled to welcome the warmth. Like a cat indeed.

“What does it taste like? Compared to actual food?” you ask to break the silence.

“What, blood?” Astarions brows furrow in thought. “I… would not really know. One could compare it to wine tasting, but that misses the whole macabre point of it.”

He turns to look at you. The underlying sadness in his eyes makes you regret asking in the first place.

“It’s been so long,” he adds solemnly.

You nibble at the sweet dessert with your appetite lost. “How long has it been since you were turned?”

For a moment you think he won’t answer.

“Almost two hundred years,” he utters softly, but you gather that he doesn’t want to discuss the subject more.

Another silence falls and you’re left pondering Astarion’s answer. As a human, two hundred years is a timespan you can’t even begin to fathom. When you’re done crumbling the rest of the bun for the birds, Astarion speaks up in a sly tone:

“Well, princess. I was honest with you, what do I get in return?”

You pick a pomegranate and a knife from the basket and start cutting the fruit’s top off. “What would you like to know?” you reply dubiously.

“Would you like some help with that?” he asks, eyeing the blade.

“No, thanks– Hells!”

Of course the knife slips and makes a clean cut to the pad of your thumb. The pomegranate rolls to the ground. Your first instinct is to look up at the vampire spawn in horror and wrap the hem of your blouse around your hand.

“Clumsy, are we?” Astarion asks and tuts, eyes glinting ominously.

“Don’t even start,” you grumble and apply pressure to the cut for it to stop bleeding as fast as possible. “What did you want to ask me?”

“To speak the truth, your life does seem rather tedious, but I could be persuaded to partake in your picnic,” Astarion remarks with a smirk.

Before you can ask what exactly he means, he grabs the wrist of your injured hand and yanks you towards him so hard that you have to clutch his chest to steady yourself. His other arm curls around your waist, pulling you intoxicatingly close to his side. The whole swift manoeuvre is expertly performed.

“Astarion! Quit joking,” you hiss, but he hushes you.

You watch as your own hand is lifted in front of your eyes. Astarion’s mouth opens just enough to reveal his fangs, hovering right above the bleeding cut. The blood is quickly creating a trickling course down your wrist. Astarion’s piercing red eyes hold your gaze and you can’t help but stare back, almost mesmerised.

“Stay very still,” he purrs.

You feel how the tips of his fangs touch your skin and his lips press around them. His tongue skims generously across the wound and a jolt shoots through your body.

A feeling is set alight in you and from somewhere in the back of your mind springs an explanation that you don’t wish to hear: It’s exciting.

You gasp in horror and pull your hand back.

“You–! You can’t bite people without asking,” you cry, full well knowing that his fangs barely touched you. The cut is still bleeding and making a mess of your favourite camp shirt.

“‘Bite’ is a bit of a stretch here,” Astarion notes and makes a show of licking his lips clean. “You taste absolutely divine, darling.”

You grab the basket and promptly shoot up from the grass. So much for a nice afternoon chat with Astarion.

“I was only trying to help.” He has the audacity to throw a smirk at you.

“Asshole,” you mutter and stomp back to camp, half-wishing he would even try to stop you but it doesn’t happen.

Next chapter

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#astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion fanfic #astarion #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction #bg3 fanfiction #fanfiction #contradictions and other counter measures

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theerrorofmylife · 1 year

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Witch Queen Ch.2

Thorin x Witch!Reader

See Masterlist for complete chapter listing, send me... something, if you’d like to be tagged :)

Mwahahahaha, this is quite a lovely chapter and yes, I do get very sappy with Thorin and the MC. I love them both dearly, I can’t help it. I did add a little HTTYD quote in there hehe. I did end up drowning my pride and adding in (Name) instead of (Y/n). Please enjoy – Error

Warnings: Mentions of death, grief, PTSD, Thorin being an instant simp for the reader, soul-crushing cuteness, Gandalf being a little shit, etc etc

60 years passed, and in my sorrow, I let the years go without care. I was still young, in my prime as a witch, and would continue to be young for a thousand years more if I so wanted. But, after 60 years, I can still be surprised.

A knock at my door woke me. It was early, very early, and the dew on the grass had yet to settle. Climbing out of bed, I wrapped my dress around myself and secured my belt to keep everything in place. Waddling to the door, there was knocking again.

“Alright, alright, my gods- Gandalf?” The old wizard stood at my doorstep, much taller than me, with gray robes and his staff.

“Hello my dear. How have you been?” For the first time in so long I felt a little sense of peace. Gandalf seemed to carry that with him though.

“As well as can be expected. It has been 20 years since you last came by. What have you been up to?” He smiled and his eyes crinkled in the corners.

“Nothing too important. However, recent events have led me to be in need of a fellow magic user.” I invited him in, interested in this need for magic.

“What have you done this time, friend.” He laughed gently and entered my home, sitting in the old chair near the window, his usual spot.

“I have done nothing. However, a company of dwarves is massing, 13 in total, and they are to march on Erebor and kill Smaug.” I froze. I had been halfway to making tea and I couldn’t move.

“They plan to reclaim the mountain.,” my voice shook and broke, my heart breaking just a little bit every moment. Thorin, my prince, they were going to reclaim the mountain. “Why have you come here, Mithrandir?”

“I am here to ask you to join them, as the 15th member.”

“15? You said there were 13.”

“Well, yes, 13 dwarves, and 1 hobbit. They will be meeting in Hobbiton tonight, you will be escorting them across from Hobbiton to the lonely mountain.”

“Ah,” I know it would be foolish to go and risk my life with a bunch of strangers, but it would have made Thorin happy to have his homeland back, “I’ll go.”

“Very good; If you will, I’m leaving immediately.” I narrowed my eyes at him. Of course he would come without giving me time to prepare.

“Fine, let me pack.” I left him in the living room, puttering in his amusement. I put together a simple bag; two shirts, two pairs of pants, necessitates, and small wants. My apothecary book, ritual book, and small bag of spell needs were all tucked inside as well, and within 30 minutes I was packed and ready to go. My dress would be fine for the early parts of the journey, the wrap design hanging to my shins, boots laced tight, and cloak up to cover my head.

“Well, come on then, let’s meet this company.” I raised my hands above my head and felt the wind grace my fingertips. A force I could not see pulled at my fingertips, tugging them straight up. When the pull became too much, I yanked my hands down and in a fuzzy flash of green, Gandalf and I were standing in the middle of a dirt road, cozy lamps hung along the edge, and doors were periodically placed in the cutouts of hills. Hobbiton was so quaint and cozy, and everything was my size! Flowers and gardens and fields and rolling hills were laid out before us, and it was beautiful. Gandalf put a hand on my shoulder and led me down the dirt road, all the way to a green circular door with a little rune carved into the bottom. At the door are two dwarves already. They are very friendly, and name themselves Oin and Gloin, brothers. From inside, a commotion is heard.

“No! There's nobody home! Go away and bother somebody else! There's far too many dwarves in my dining room as it is. If this is some clotterd's idea of a joke, I can only say that it is in very poor taste. -” the door opens, and the dwarves let themselves in as the young hobbit stares. “Gandalf. And… friend.”

“Hello, the elves call me Niethir, daughter of Yelmain, witch of the eastern Greenwood. But that’s just a formal name. You may call me (Name), friend.” I did a little curtsy and he smiled, bowing in return.

“Bilbo Bagins. I apologize, I wasn’t expecting visitors.”a He gave a very pointed look at Gandalf.

“He didn’t warn you, did he? He never does.” I sigh, and Bilbo welcomes me in. I place my things neatly in a corner and wander into the rest of the hobbit hole while Bilbo and Gandalf talk. Large wooden arches hold up plaster ceilings, little lanterns brighten the home with warm light. It’s sweet, the feeling of this hobbit home, and it’s wonderful. Anyone who steps in would immediately feel welcomed and at peace. As I enter the dining room, a voice I recognize stops me cold.

“Mahal save me… it’s you.” Dwalin sits at the table with the others, staring wide eyed at me. I cannot breathe. The last time I saw him was the day…. In Dale.

“Dwalin… you’re here.” He stood abruptly and stomped over to me. I might have been scared, but only for a moment, because he clapped my shoulders and pressed his forehead against mine.

“He knew you were alive, lass. He spoke of you every day, drove us all mad!” He laughed and my eyes teared up.

“Thorin… oh Dwalin I’m so sorry.” His eyes got sad for a second before another was pushing between us.

“Move aside laddie, let us meet her. You’re name please, lass.”

“(Name), Niethir to some, Yelmaindottir.” They all took turns introducing themselves. Lastly was two young dwarves, one blond one brunette.

“Fili and Kili, we’re Thorin’s nephews.” My heart dropped.

“Of course, he told me all about you. Why are you not with your mother, Dis?” Their eyes grew bright with excitement.

“You know of mother! -”

“He must have told you so much! -”

“Uncle is leading us to Erebor to kill the dragon!” My heart stopped.

“But… hold on I- you are Thorin’s nephews, yes?” They nod with enthusiasm. “Then… your uncle… Thorin is alive...?” Dwalin pushed the two aside.

“Of course… why would he not be?” I couldn’t focus on anything.

“I heard…. In the battle of Moria… the prince had died. I thought… I thought Thorin…” My eyes watered. Thorin was alive. He was alive and he was coming here to lead the company to retake Erebor. Dwalin stepped forward and placed a hand on my shoulder.

“You thought Thorin was the one that died…” I nodded, just trying to keep myself at least semi-oriented. Suddenly, the silence that festered was cut by a deep knock at the door.

“He is here.” Gandalf grumbled. My breath left me, and tears fell freely as the door was opened out of view and that lovely deep voice from 60 years ago echoed in the house.

“Gandalf, I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way, twice. I wouldn't have found it at all had it not been for that mark on the door.” He was just the same, a tad older, and much tougher than when I’d last seen him. He carried with him a tiredness that only comes with carrying the weight of the world. I think he even got taller, if that were possible. He was. Just by a few inches, though.

“Mark? There's no mark on that door, it was painted a week ago!”

“There is a mark; I put it there myself. Bilbo Baggins, allow me to introduce the leader of our company, Thorin Oakenshield.” Oakenshield, that was quite an impressive name. It made him gruffer than he used to be.

“So, this is the hobbit. Tell me, Mr. Baggins, have you done much fighting?” He was glaring, obviously not believing Bilbo could do much.

“Pardon me?”

“Thorin, there are greater matters at hand.” Balin, who seemed to be the wisest, intervened.

“And what would those be-” His eyes met mine, those same gray-blue eyes. “My Lady.”

“My Prince. Or should I call you My King?” I was trying to have humor for my own sake, my nerves were nearly suffocating me. He was still in shock, slowly walking towards me, the hobbit forgotten. As he got closer my nerves began to get the better of me. “Thorin, Thorin what’s wrong?” I could barely whisper. He was finally in front of me and there were tears in his eyes that refused to fall.

“You’re as beautiful as the day I lost you.” He collected my hands in his and pressed kisses to them. Fresh tears ran down my face and I all but threw my arms around his neck. His arms instantly wrapped around my waist.

“I thought you were dead.” I whispered into his shoulder. He laughed.

“I thought you were dead. In Dale… no one got out, no one ever saw you again…” Tears were blurring everything. When he pulled away, I frantically wiped my face to seem at least mildly presentable. Suddenly my whole body was jostling as the entire company slapped mine and Thorin’s back.

That night, we supped like old friends, but with Thorin’s hand constantly searching for mine it was hard to consider us friends. He sat at the head of the table and the others made room for me at his side.

“What news from the meeting in Ered Luin? Did they all come?” Balin spoke up from Thorin’s other side.

“Aye. Envoys from all seven kingdoms.” I watched as he spoke, the way he engaged with his people. He speaks like a king; I don’t know how I didn’t see it when we first met.

“What did the dwarves of the Iron Hills say? Is Dain with us?” Thorin hesitates, seeming to weigh his options. Just before he speaks, he tilts his head to the side and catches my eyes with his.

“They will not come. They say this quest is ours and ours alone.”

“You’re going on a quest?” Bilbo pipes up from the hallway.

“Really, did you not tell him anything?” I picked on Gandalf, and for the first time in 60 years I watched Thorin smile like he used to.

“Ah, well, lets have some illumination instead.” I didn’t even think about the consequences. Snapping my fingers, a tiny flame sparked in the space between my pointer finger, thumb, and middle knuckle. The dwarves around me started huffing in shock while Thorin just stared at it. I spread my fingers outwards and the little candles Bilbo brought lit up all at once. One of the dwarves started clapping while the others were huffing. Seemed very few of them liked magic tricks. Thorin continued to stare until Gandalf placed a map on the table.

“Ravens have been seen flying back to the mountain as it was foretold. When the birds of the old return to Erebor, the reign of the beast will end.” Oin spoke up from the other end of the table.

“Uh…what beast?” Bilbo’s little voice spoke up from the pantry archway.

“Well, that would be a reference to Smaug the terrible, chiefest and greatest calamity of our age. Airborne fire breather, teeth like razors, claws like meat hooks, extremely fond of precious metals.” Bofur was messing with him, but with every word he spoke my memory conjured images to match. I could only sit back and remember.

“Yes, I know what a dragon is.”

“I’m not afraid, I’m up for it. I’ll give him a taste of the dwarfish iron right up his jacksy!” Ori was being arrogant, and I could suddenly separate those who had seen the dragon and those who had heard of the dragon.

“The task would be difficult enough with an army behind us, but we number just fourteen, and not fourteen of the best, nor brightest; excusing the Witch, that is.” Well, at least Balin was being honest.

“Hey! Who are you calling dim?”

“Sorry, what did he say?”

“We may be few in number. But we’re fighters, all of us! To the last dwarf!” Fili gained everyone’s attention.

“And you forget we have a wizard in our company, Gandalf will have killed hundreds of dragons in his time.” Kili built off his brother’s energy. I pressed my lips into a line to stop myself from giggling. Gandalf had never killed a dragon. So much was clear when he began sputtering for an answer that wasn’t embarrassing.

“Oh, well. No, uh, I…I wouldn’t say…”

“How many then?”

“What?”

“Well, how many dragons have you killed? Go on, give us a number!” They were all yelling now, yelling at Gandalf, at each other, just yelling to yell. Thorin stood suddenly, his chair nearly falling back in the process.

“Enough! If we have read these signs, do you not think others will have read them too? Rumors have begun to spread. The dragon Smaug has not been seen for sixty years. Eyes look East to the mountain, assessing, wondering, weighing the risk. Perhaps the vast wealth of our people now lies unprotected. Do we sit back while others claim what is rightfully ours? Or do we seize this chance to take back Erebor?” He was an inspiration, a true leader. Something about watching him speak made me terribly sad. I felt… robbed, of the chance to be near him as he grew into this leader.

“You forget, the Front Gate is sealed. There is no way into the mountain.”

“That, my dear Balin, is not entirely true.”

“How come you by this?”

“It was given to me by your father. By Thrain. For safekeeping. It is yours now.”

“There's another way in.”

“Well, if we can find it, but Dwarf doors are invisible when closed. The answer lies hidden somewhere in this map...and I do not have the skill to find it. But there are others in Middle-earth who can. The task I have in mind will require a great deal of stealth...and no small amount of courage. But if we are careful and clever, I believe that it can be done.” The rest of the evening passed smoothly, save for Bilbo fainting at the idea of a dragon. The dwarves were collecting near the hearth, talking loudly and catching up. I secluded myself to the bench by the front door. I couldn’t help but feel dread, thinking about facing Thorin.

“My Lady.” The voice that had haunted me for years called out. Thorin was standing in front of me, concerned and weary. I hated seeing him so worried.

“My King?” He came closer and knelt in front of me, taking my hands as he had always done.

“You have magic?” I should have known this topic would come up.

“Yes.” My throat closed up and a nauseating feeling settled in my chest. I had planned to tell him, eventually, somewhere down the line back in Dale; Maybe the next day when I said I’d return. Or maybe when we became closer. But that didn’t happen, none of it did, and it was never possible.

“What are you?”

“I’m a Witch, probably the last of my kind now…” Admitting it out loud was harder than I thought. Being the last, the only one…

“Your mother?” I sighed.

“She passed…56 years ago, in the winter.” Something close to understanding filled his eyes and he nodded solemnly.

“I’m so sorry, I wish I had known.” I laughed wryly.

“I’m sure we both wish we knew a lot of things…” he smiled sadly before his face fell into hard lines.

“I’m asking Gandalf to remove you from the quest.” My heart nearly stopped.

“What…? No, you’re not, I’m going with you!” He grabbed my hands insistently.

“You’re not, I can’t let you, not with where we’re going, Smaug-”

“I survived Smaug once, I would do it again.” He sighed, his shoulders dropping. He was trying to fight a losing battle with me.

“My lady-”

“(Name), my king. And I came here for you,” he stopped, his mouth half open as his words died. “I thought you were dead, and then Gandalf comes along and says your kin are reclaiming your homeland. You’re not dead… but I’d still do this for you. Do you remember what you said when we first met?” He’s grinning again, but it’s sad, like remembering that day is both happy and terrible. It is for both of us.

“I said a lot of things that day, My Lady.” He snarks.

“‘Where would you like to go? Name it and I will lead you anywhere.’” I quote, and his face falls into a mock glare. He’s fallen into my trap, and I feel victorious. His head falls into his hand, his elbow propped up to support it.

“(Name)-”

“Erebor. Take me to Erebor.” He sighs again in defeat, and I place my hands on his jaw to gently lift his head. His gray eyes meet mine. He’s not upset with me, nor is he angry, he’s simply tired and I know he has every reason to be. “You carry such a terrible weight My King, please, do not carry it alone.”

@capricorn-anon @emmapotato88 @dontaskmehowdontaskmewhy @tschrist1 @eilin-brillewin @hpthalia126 <3 <3 <3

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#thorin #thorin x reader #thorin fic #the hobbit thorin #thorin son of thrain #thorin x you #thorin fanfiction #thorin durin #thorin oakenshield #the hobbit #the hobbit fic

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lovekaikim · 2 months

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Intersex/Trans! Yandere! Hongjoong and Yeonjun Male Reader Headcannon

Two bad boys? Hear we go!

Note: Also, this is my first time writing about intersex/trans folks. So if I fucked up something, let me know.

Note 2: Also, this is more of a soft yandere headcannon, so, if you wanna see blood and guts, then you won't find it here.

Note 3: Another thing, there's no smut in Yeonjun's one, as I wanted to focus more on the comfort aspects.

Hongjoong

SFW

Hongjoong hated you at first. You were a bisexual nerd at highschool, and he was a bully. How the hell would he like you?

You were a shy, timid thing who hated confrontation. You also had a bit of a crush on Hongjoong. And you thought he'd never reciprocate the feelings.

But you were dead wrong.

One night you were crying in your dorm, and Hongjoong knocked on the door. With a bag of pizza and an apologetic face.

"Hey...can we talk?"

After letting him in, he'd explain that he had a crush on you himself. But due to him being one of the popular kids, he was scared that he would get targeted.

He expected you to tell him to get out, but instead you hugged him. Still sobbing. He'd vow to protect you and your feelings. That night, he'd gained a lover for life.

If you were feeling sad, then he'd find the problem. One way or another. Sometimes, when he was feeling low, you'd do the same for him. Sometimes violently.

NSFW

Hongjoong's tounge is a fucking weapon. Eating you out like you were the most precious diamond in the world. He's the predator, and you're the prey.

He knows that you have a praise kink, so he uses it to his advantage to get what he wants. "Such a sweet boy..."

You were willing to offer your body for Hongjoong to use to pleasure himself, as you saw yourself as a doll for him to play with. But to Hongjoong, he saw you as his equal.

Hongjoong loved it when you let him ride you, but he also liked it when you fought back sometimes, as he knew you were your own person. Not a robot for him to fuck. A lover for him to cherish.

He likes to tease you. A lot. He could be using a vibrator to pleasure his cervix like a toy, choking himself out, or making you feel jealous, and you'd still fuck him hard. Just the way he wants.

But, after you both exhausted yourselves, he'd always make sure that you were ok. Brushing your hair whilst you were barely awake is one of your favourite aftercare activities.

"Just rest now, my boy."

Yeonjun

So, Yeonjun is a fashion designer in Seoul, working for the greats such as Vivienne Westwood and Karl Lagerfeld. You, on the other hand, had only recently graduated from University.

He couldn't what to meet you, but, at the same time, he wasn't.

Yeonjun had very possessive tendencies, especially with his models and fellow designers. He was trying to stop it from getting in the way of his work, but so far, he's not succeeded.

The other thing was that he was transgender, recently transitioning when he started working for Lagerfeld in 2016. So he was scared that if he told anyone, he'd be mocked.

But you were different. You were very quiet, unassuming, and a gentle soul. Always trying to help people with their problems. Yeonjun was quite confused - most of them were loud, and outgoing.

He soon started to fancy you, offering to give you coffee some nights after work. Giving you a rose gold necklace on your birthday. Making beautiful outfits for you when your older sister got married.

You took notice, but you thought he was being generous and kind. He was unintentionally breaking your heart.

One night when you were about to leave, Yeonjun noticed that you were on the phone to your mother. He didn't think anything of it, until you started crying.

"I love him, Mom...I love him with all my heart...but he'll never notice...will he? He's just being kind. He'll never love me..."

Your crying broke his heart. Yeonjun wanted to run and hug you, but he didn't do anything yet. He was also scared that you'd reject him due to him not being masculine.

Finally, he ran as fast as he could and hugged you, rubbing your back.

"I...I love you with all my heart, M/N, I'm sorry I didn't notice sooner...I was scared that you'd think I'm-"

You kissed him, tears still streaming your eyes. Yeonjun was surprised, but he kissed back, letting your love seep through the dark room.

#kim hongjoong #ateez captain #ateez hongjoong #kpop #txt yeonjun #choi yeonjun #yandere #male yandere #gay yandere

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stainedglasstruth · 7 months

Text

TIMING: May, After Get Glad LOCATION: The Wormhole PARTIES: Arden (@stainedglasstruth) & Zack (@zackbanes) SUMMARY: Zack and Arden have a drink together and have a moment of queer solidarity. They talk about their feelings on relationships CONTENT WARNINGS: Casual drinking

Going to the Wormhole still felt a little uncanny to Arden. She’d been back for several months now, but going to some of her old haunts still gave her, well, a haunting feeling, and she’d only just started going back to the Wormhole after moving to Worm’s Row. The bar still looked almost exactly how she remembered it, the scratched and stained bar and tables, the shitty wobbly stools, the obnoxious neon signs on the wall, a colorful cast of patrons ranging from broke college students to slimy guys with terrible attitudes, and the overwhelming smell of alcohol. The latter of which, was a relief these days. She’d take the shitty dive bar over the ever present smell of sulfur hanging in the air, thanks.

She looked down at her phone, checking her text thread with Zack before peering around the bar. Where was… There. Spotting the familiar head of hair, she weaved her way between a few students and made her way over to a small booth in the corner.

“Hey,” Arden greeted, an apologetic smile on her face. “Sorry I’m a little late, I got caught up at the library.” She plopped down in the seat across from him, tossing her bag and jacket down next to her. “I’ll get the first round to make it up to you.”

—

Zack popped his head up from his tablet at the sound of Arden’s greeting. “Hey!” he echoed back. He swept the device into his bag without a second thought – he had just been flipping through some designs that would be off to clients the next day or so. Besides Arden wasn’t that late and even if she had been, Zack never minded spending time in a bar. Despite not being much of a drinker, he did find that he loved the ambiance of them.

“It’s all good,” he assured her with a wave of his hand. “Chasing a big lead or something?” he asked with a trying grin. Zack didn’t know much about what Arden did, aside from media portrayals of journalists. Did Arden even do that kind of investigative work? Who could say. Not him, that was for sure. Either way, he was sure to be careful around her, just in case. Just in case she thought to look into anything about him and where he had come from.

“Hell yeah,” Zack agreed with a grin, gesturing for the bartender. He ordered a shot and a beer back for both of them, happily announcing that Arden would be paying for this round. He lifted the shot glass to toast at his roommate and friend. “What’re we drinking to? Queer solidarity?”

—

Zack always had such an infectious energy about him that Arden found it hard not to smile whenever he was around. The man was infuriatingly likeable in a way that she was always striving to exude in her day to day. What required so much of her was seemingly effortless for him; it made her just a little jealous, not that she could hold it against him. He called himself a fellow trash raccoon, but he really was a ray of sunshine in his own right.

“No leads, unfortunately,” she grinned, “more research than anything.” Still stuck without any leads on Erebus or the situation in mines, she had continued looking into anything remotely related. Her searching had not gotten her very far.

Arden grinned, amused at his enthusiasm. “Hey,” she said, raising her glass, “I will always drink to queer solidarity.”

—

“What are you researching?” Zack asked, “Anything interesting?” He wondered, not for the first time, whether Arden held the same ideas about the town as Zack. That there was something else. That was why he had come, after all. And it had turned out to be at least a little right – Levi was here and he had helped get Zack on the track for some answers. Arden had grown up here, after all, and Zack wondered what exactly had brought her back to town.

They did their shots together, Zack wincing just a little at the burn. He still wasn’t much of a drinker when it came to liquor, but he was enjoying the other aspects more and more. Beer, he found, he could enjoy most times. And sharing one with a friend was becoming a regular thing. Which – if you had told Zack of 6 months ago that, he never would have believed it. That he had drinking buddies – that he had friends. That there were some of them, even, who knew what he was, knew all that was inside him, and still hadn’t turned away, yet.

“Speaking of queer solidarity,” Zack began, one eyebrow up. “I believe you owe me a story. About you and a night at Red Eye.” He couldn’t really imagine what Arden had been doing in that part of town, at that coffee shop in particular. But apparently it had been gay, which meant Zack was ready to hear about it. He took a sip from his beer and then laid into Arden with a pointed look, clearly waiting.

—

Debating for a moment whether she should say anything, Arden gave a very casual glance around them to make sure no one was close enough that they would be able to hear. For better or worse, she trusted Zack– enough to live with him, and enough to share some basic information at least. Maybe that was a mistake, maybe the desperate loneliness that plagued her was getting to be too much, was making her sloppy. “The mines,” she admitted. “The whole situation is a bit strange.” That was a fucking understatement.

Downing the shot, she chased it with a swig of beer. It wasn’t a go to for her, beer, but the taste was decent, and she was drinking with another person. It would be better to pace herself, keep speed with Zack.

She sighed, unable to keep a smile off her face at his prodding. Right. She had mentioned that night to him after some of her own prodding. “Damn, okay, getting right to it, I see.” It had been a long time since she had someone to talk shit with about the mundane yet personal things in life, though, to be honest, she had felt a lot more comfortable talking to him about it before she had remembered that Zack was friends with Andy.

“I don’t know how familiar you are with it, but Masque of the Red Eye has poetry open mic nights,” Arden began, “and as someone who enjoys poetry, I try to go sometimes. That particular night, I had a couple of drinks. Enough that I decided to participate, actually– a mistake because I fucking hate public speaking,” she admitted with a laugh.

“After, though, I got approached by someone, and we ended up talking for a while.” Ugh, she was feeling so nervous; she really wasn’t used to this. Any of it. Taking another drink, she decided to leave it at that, sure Zack would ask for more.

–

“A bit strange,” Zack echoed, incredulously. “More than a bit, if you asked me.” The mines, and all that came with them, were wholly unsettling to Zack. He had gotten as far as he had in life by being acutely aware of his surroundings. Any shift in the environment was something that could potentially set him off – or could be a clue that he had already been set off and it was time to start hunkering down. But with the mines seemingly making everything haywire, Zack was on edge. Any strange occurrence had him wondering whether it was him at the root cause or just that hunk of awful rock they lived right next to. “But hey, if you learn anything about it, let me know.”

Zack hadn’t know that about either the coffee shop or Arden. But he wasn’t too surprised. To Zack, poetry was for smart people, educated people, and Arden was maybe the smartest person he knew. “We’re putting a pin in the fact that you write poetry,” he commented, “definitely coming back to that one.” He imagined that it was probably like his sketches – not necessarily something Arden wanted to share. But maybe there was some that she would be okay with him reading.

“Oooh,” Zack drawled, wide smile on his face. “So you’re telling me, basically, you wooed a woman with your poetry? Like some kind of Jane Austen lover or something?” Zack hadn’t read any Jane Austen, but that seemed like the kind of thing that would be in her books. “Did you just talk? What was she like? Was she pretty? Are you gonna see her again?” Zack was mostly teasing with the barrage of follow-up questions, but he did keep his eyes on Arden. Showing that he was listening, for as long as she was willing to talk.

—

“Well, yeah,” Arden wavered. “But, you know what I mean. Besides, this town’s standard for weird is totally fucked anyway.”

Most things she learned about Wicked’s Rest didn’t even surprise her at this point in her life. She didn’t know how to talk about the mining situation, though. She didn’t want to scare the average townsfolk, but this thing– whatever the fuck it was– with the mines frightened her. There was a delicate balance she needed to keep with her job, a balance between outright lies and total honesty– maintaining secrecy without minimizing the severity of the problem. It was difficult on a good day, but now? She knew just enough to know it was supernatural and bad, but she was as in the dark as everyone else about any kind of specifics.

Taking another swig of beer, she nodded. “Yeah,” she agreed, “I’ll let you know.” As much as possible, at least. The last thing she needed was Zack getting dragged into whatever terrible thing was certainly going on. He had quickly become someone she could consider a friend– as much as was possible when your entire life feels like a series of facades– and she really didn’t want to see him get hurt.

She paused as Zack ‘put a pin’ in her writing poetry. “Right, I guess you weren’t aware of that. I dunno,” she shrugged, feeling a little embarrassed, “I write a lot of shit, not just articles for work.”

Like some kind of Jane Austen lover or something? Arden snorted, her anxiety only contributing to the laughter bubbling out of her. Was she blushing? She fucking hoped not. “Well, when you put it that way, it does sound wild.” Thinking of that night, the smile melted away somewhat. “It wasn’t– It wasn’t exactly an upbeat kind of poem, but I guess something in it resonated with her.”

Her embarrassment only became more pronounced at his barrage of questions. This felt so juvenile. The last time she had done anything of this sort was– …well, it’d been a while. “Yes, it was just talking,” she shot him a glare, though there was no heat behind it. “There was flirting, and we kind of ended up paying for each other’s drinks.” She propped her head on a hand, looking pointedly away from Zack. “She was really sweet, fun. A little awkward, maybe? She seemed a little flustered by the flirting, but it was pretty adorable.” Arden hadn’t been much better, but that was not the point here.

She snuck a peek over at Zack, only catching his eye in the process. Fucking hell, this was ridiculous. “I– I don’t know. I want to, and she seemed open to it.” But it was a bad idea. She would ruin it. Andy was yet another ray of sunshine, and she deserved so much more than Arden could ever give her, could give anyone, honestly. She chugged what remained of her beer, flagging down the bartender for another round.

—

“You can say that again,” Zack murmured into his glass of beer. His definition of weird on any given day had been shifted dramatically since arriving in Wicked’s Rest. And it had already been pretty skewed, after his whole flame-on situation. And he wasn’t specifically interested in the mines, beyond the hope that living as close to them as they did wouldn’t result in anything too fucked up. He only really wanted to learn more about this thing inside of him and how to maybe harness it, control it, to be sure he didn’t hurt anyone more. But with Wicked’s Rest particular flavor of weird, he wouldn’t be surprised if everything was connected, like the mines themselves under the town, like leylines passing through.

“Not wild,” Zack corrected. “Just…sweet. Maybe charming. Do the whole courting thing, ask her father for permission to take a stroll with her or whatever.” His head cocked and he wondered further about the poetry, about his roommate as a whole. If Arden’s poems were anything like his drawings, he could only imagine the deep-down hidden fears and shame she packed into them. “That’s cool, though. That she could relate. That’s a good starting off point, isn’t it?” Like Zack would really know. His longest relationship had been… Well. Fuck, maybe it was Levi which wasn’t even really a relationship.

Zack felt a soft, genuine smile find his face as Arden talked more about the night, the girl. “You’re a little awkward too, you know,” he pointed out, but kindly. He liked Arden’s awkwardness. Made his own felt like less of a problem. He bet that was how the other girl had felt, too. “Sounds like she was into you, then.”

Arden downed her drink and Zack could tell that she was uncomfortable with this line of questioning for some reason. Which wasn’t what he wanted. Sure, he wanted to tease her a little, but nothing that would actually hurt her feelings or leave her feeling badly. “So what’s not to know?” he asked, pitching his voice toward something more sincere. “It sounds like you really liked being with her, and talking to her. And like there might be a lot you two can relate on, if she was into your poetry and all.” Zack shrugged.

—

Arden couldn’t help but laugh at his suggestion. “Yeah, I’ll ask her to take a turn around the promenade, go full Regency. We may need a chaperone, though,” she grinned, “we wouldn’t want to create a scandal now, would we?” Her mischievous demeanor began to abate as the conversation became more genuine.

“I guess?” she shrugged, running a finger around the rim of her empty shot glass. “I don’t really have a ton of experience when it comes to relationships, to be honest.” it felt a little embarrassing to admit, but all of this was embarrassing anyway, why not double down? “I’ve only been in two, and neither of them lasted long.”

If she wasn’t flushed before, she surely was after Zack called her out on her awkwardness. She was ready to hit him with some fake outrage, so catching the fond look on his face really threw her. A sudden surge of emotion overtook her, settled in her throat in a way that made it difficult to speak for a second. “I know. Pretty sure we sounded like absolute disasters to anyone who might’ve been listening.”

Oh, she had downed that way too quickly, if Zack’s demeanor was anything to go by. Oops. His sincerity was another thing Arden admired about him, and yet another she was jealous of. Barely anything she did felt entirely sincere these days, and sometimes it made her yearn for days when the biggest things she had to worry about were tests and talking to friends about crushes.

She propped her cheek up on her palm, looking at Zack. They’d been living together for nearly two months now, seeing each other almost every day. Even if he wasn’t exactly a trash raccoon, there was something about their personalities did just kind of click. She was too tired to spin some more bullshit, especially with him.

“I don’t know how to do this,” she admitted. “I’m not good at any of it.” A chuckle bubbled out of her. “I mean, I’m pretty good with people; I can read them well, and I know how to play to my audience, get folks to talk. Hell, I’m even alright when it comes to flirting and flings and whatnot, but relationships?” She dropped her arm with a grimace.

—

“Oh, I absolutely volunteer as chaperone,” Zack offered with a laugh. “And I promise to be the worst chaperone ever. I will absolutely wander off the path to have my own rendez-vous and leave the two of you to get scandalous.” Pitching his shoulders back, he preened a bit, for the joke. “I bet I would look good in one of those vests, and the hat.”

As Arden leveled with him, Zack could only nod. “Hey, I’m not one to talk. Definitely. My track record with relationships is even worse than yours.” Try nonexistent. “But I think it’s just…all the stuff you just described, but for a longer time period. I think as long as you’re talking about what you want and you both want the same things, and all. That’s the basis of it, right?” Sounded right, even if he himself had never put it into action. “And I guess that’s easier said than done, though.” Especially considering Arden’s self-proclaimed awkwardness. Being honest was always a hard step to take. Zack knew that from experience, at least.

Finishing his beer, Zack waves at the bartender, indicating another. He has some catching up to do, after all. “Do you… Like is that something you want? A relationship? Not necessarily with poetry girl but just in general?”

—

Arden snorted. “We’ll be the talk of the town; Mr. Banes the devilish rake and that poor ruined Han girl.” She rolled her eyes, a smirk on her face. “Okay, you’d probably rock the vest, but I don’t think anyone can make those hats look good, sorry. Not even the Bridgerton guy could, and he’s so hot it’s actually ridiculous.”

She tore her gaze away from the glass, looking up at him. It was nice to know she wasn’t the only one, at least. She shrugged, eyes shifting to the bar around them. It was the first bar she’d ever gone to because the Wormhole was lazy when it came checking IDs. Sitting here, she still felt like a child somehow. “I guess so.” Easier said than done was certainly right, but she was here, having this conversation with him in the first place. That was something, right?

Poetry girl got a small smile out of her. “Andy,” she admitted, before quickly adding “and whatever you’re gonna say, put a pin in it for now.” She leveled a not-very-threatening look at him, finger raised as if to say ‘don’t start shit.’ But then her hand fell, as did the playfulness. “I don’t know.” She recalled the last time she had seen Nicole, that desperate ache of want that overtook her when she saw how Nicole had spoken about Leah, when she had seen how they looked at each other. “I think I do,” she said, looking down at the table. However, her past attempts had been absolute dumpster fires. I don’t know if I can, she didn’t dare say it out loud.

The idea of getting so close to someone, of opening herself up to such an extent, it was, quite frankly, terrifying. She wasn't even sure who she was or what she was fucking doing. She was a bunch of facades stacked up in a trench coat. How could she expect someone to see what a mess she was and choose that, choose her? She barely felt worthy of Leah’s love or the affection of her new friends. How could she even ask someone to love her?

“Do you?” Arden asked, meeting his gaze again. It was a genuine question, though it did have the added benefit of taking some of the heat off of her. She was curious to know more about who Zack was underneath the playful facade he so often defaulted to.

—

Zack’s eyebrows jumped to his hairline. “Andy?” he asked, surprise clearly coloring his voice. But then Arden’s warning came and he raised his hands, palms splayed as if to declare that he came in peace. “Okay, okay. But let me just say. If you do end up dating her, I would love the possibility of even more free pastries.”

He could tell that Arden’s confession came with no small amount of self-searching. And no small amount of doubt. “If it’s something you want, then it’s worth a try, I think.” His voice was saturated with sincerity, like it so often wasn’t between him and Arden. But it was important to him that his friend knew he was on her side for this, and wanted her to be happy. To get what she wanted out of life. “If you could end up really happy? I think that’s worth a try.”

The question turned back on himself, Zack found a laugh pressing out from his chest. “Do I? What? Want a relationship?” He spared himself from having to answer immediately by taking a long drink. Did he want a relationship? Sure, maybe. One day. He wasn’t exactly sure what his version of a relationship would look like, even, to be fulfilling. He had been on his own, in most aspects of life, for so long. He wasn’t exactly sure how to share his life. He could see the benefits, though. Like Levi nursing him through his injury, texting to make sure he got what Zack wanted from the store. That was…nice.

“No,” Zack answered, finally, voice clear. No matter what he wanted, he didn’t really have room for a relationship, right now. Navigating something like that, for the first time, wasn’t something he thought he had the bandwidth for. Not alongside trying to figure out what exactly he was and how it fit into everything else that seemed to be happening in Wicked’s Rest.

And then there was the Levi of everything to consider. “Besides, the guy I’m…sleeping with. I don’t think he’s the relationship type.” He hesitated to only call it that, sleeping with, but there wasn’t really a word for sleeping with and a little bit more but not a real relationship. Sleeping with but also he saved my life and paid off my medical bills and took care of me for a week. Sleeping with but he’s also sleeping with maybe half the town as well. Sleeping with but he’s also taking me to Greece maybe though I’m not entirely convinced that’s not just a joke.

—

She rolled her eyes at the pastry comment, but before she could say anything, he continued to talk. Annoyingly, he had a point. “You’re right,” she sighed. “I know you’re right.” But she was scared, and she had been pushing herself constantly since coming back to town. The fact that she had gone to the Red Eye and read her poetry that night? That had taken a lot out of her. It did lead to her meeting Andy, though.

So far, taking chances had been working out pretty well for Arden. If only that fact could help calm the fear that wrapped itself like a hand around her neck, her heart. Years of running away and refusing to process her grief or be vulnerable didn’t just go away overnight. She was trying so hard to do things differently, but there was still a part of her that just wanted to take Hobbes and go back to Boston, maybe Philadelphia. “We’ll see what happens, I guess.”

Arden couldn’t quite read Zack’s laughter. Nerves? Disbelief? “Yeah,” she confirmed as he took a long drink. He was clearly mulling it over as he stalled, though his face didn’t give much away. She didn’t mind giving him some time if he needed it, but she didn’t want to push him to talk about it if he wasn’t comfortable doing so. And she was about to tell him just that when he finally replied.

The ‘no’ was a bit lessened by the addition about the guy he was sleeping with. Zack was accidentally telling on himself there; he’d clearly at least considered the possibility of having a relationship with this guy. “Is that the guy you’ve been flirting with on main?” She tried to keep her tone light but cautious. He had been a little cagey about it when she’d brought it up before, and she didn’t want to poke at the issue and upset him, but Arden’s curiosity had been piqued.

—

“Of course I’m right.” Zack gave a cocky scoff. But his features softened quickly and he leaned to the side, nudging Arden’s shoulder with his own. “Hey, no pressure. Not from me, at least. I just think the short-term discomfort of being awkward and a little afraid is worth what could be long-term happiness. Or at least long-term regular orgasms.” His last comment was mostly in the hopes of getting her to laugh more than anything else.

He wouldn’t blame Arden if she ended up falling back into her comfort zone of not shooting her shot. Couldn’t blame her. While Zack could easily seal the deal of asking someone out, asking them to bed, anything more than that was…trickier. Short-term fear was not as easy a hurdle to overcome as he suggested to Arden.

At Arden’s further question, Zack’s nose wrinkled. Once more, he stalled with a drink from his glass. “Yeah. That’s… Yes. He’s the one who helped me out when…” Zack waved a hand down at his leg to indicate the attack and injury. “That’s where I was, at his house. But it’s not– I mean, it’s more than just flirting, obviously, but.” But they weren’t exchanging poems at a coffee house or anything. Zack would, though, was the thing. Metaphorically, at least.

Being around Levi was just nice in a way that was unfamiliar to Zack. He cared about Zack, Zack knew that much. He just wasn’t entirely sure to what extent. Or how far Levi would be willing to explore that care. And Zack was sure that he was more invested, anyway (because how could this ancient quasi-deity who had seen most of its partners live and die be interested in…playing house), and that meant that he had to be careful. Play it cool. “It’s just a little…nontraditional.” That explanation made him grin. Yeah, nontraditional for sure.

—

She rolled her eyes again, as she often did in Zack’s presence. She got enough of this shit from Leah, she did not need it from anyone else, thanks. But it was Zack, so, of course, he was legally obligated to be nice and follow up with some stupid joke before things got too genuine. It was the routine they had quickly fallen into as friends and roommates, and it was one Arden enjoyed, one she was familiar with from the years of keeping people at a distance. They had definitely become closer than she had allowed others in the past, though. With a snort, she shook her head. “You’re insufferable.”

She forced herself to keep her face as neutral as possible, though she couldn’t stop an eyebrow from going up. Interesting. She had known he was staying with a friend, and the thought had certainly crossed her mind, but that was significant– taking care of someone after they were injured. It wasn’t even like Zack lived alone or anything; Arden would’ve helped him out if he had come home after getting out of the hospital, knew Wynne and Sully would have done the same. Zack seemed pretty uncomfortable talking about it, though, so she would keep her thoughts to herself. …for now, at least. “Sounds it,” she grinned. “Glad he’s nice, at least, even if it is just a casual thing. You deserve that.” Offering him a sincere smile, she decided to change the topic

“Anyway,” she drew out the word, “I don’t know about you, but I’m still not over being forced to watch Cats. I don’t even– Was that a real movie? Were we high on something? What was that?” The easy smile back on her face, she leaned back in her seat, sipping her beer. “I love Sully, but what the fuck?”

#alcohol tw #writing #wickedswriting #zackbanes #wr zack #repost because i realized this thread was lost now that zack's blog is gone

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chickencowcow · 8 months

Note

TELL US ABOUT SANDBOX

Oh hello my dearest of mungeon dasters, lovely to see you here! Well, I won't deprive you of the information you so desperately crave. So....

Let's talk about Sandbox!

Hailing from the short campaign/multi-shot so affectionately dubbed Dudehole Squad, Sandbox is a Monster of the Week Character in a game ran by the very person who sent this ask in :) Sandbox is built as a Spooky -- those of you who know Monster of the Week should be familiar with the playbook already, and those of you who don't... Well, let's just say he's got some fucked up magic, and emphasis on fucked up. Specifically, his is due to his... patron? Patron is perhaps the best way to describe the entity that Sandbox calls Overwrite, who is essentially a sapient computer virus. Long story short, Overwrite took over Sandbox's computer about six years ago, isekai'd his daughter into the digital world, and refuses to give her back until Sandbox fully helps them achieve... whatever goal Overwrite wanted to achieve. In essence, Sandbox is the victim of a creepypasta.

Development

Sandbox was actually invented long before Dudehole Squad was ever pitched to me -- he was my first ever MotW character. Now, granted, I never played him, but I think it's important to realize that I was approximately 14 when I created him.

Initially, he leaned far more heavily into the creepypasta idea -- the original concept was that he was possessed by some entity as a child and killed his parents, and that entity kind of stayed with him for his whole life, changing forms as he grew up to stay physically close to him. His name was always meant to be Sandbox, and from my memory he was always supposed to be a tech-y dude, but he was meant to come across as far more... Dangerous. Haunted. Unstable, even. This was a man you didn't want to mess with because you had no clue what he was going to do, or even what he was capable of.

And then I kinda forgot about him.

Until my dear dear dear GM reached out to me and asked if I wanted to play in a MotW oneshot and I said "fuck yeah are you kidding"

So... I reworked him! I didn't want him to be as off-putting or standoffish since he was only meant to be a oneshot character, and I place more importance on team cohesion than my character being EXACTLY the way I envisioned them. Plus, I wanted to rework Sandbox anyway. What ended up happening was that I... Well, scrapped him down to his bare bones and rebuilt him from that. He became much kinder * and much more down to earth, and honestly a lot sillier, thanks to my dear dear fellow players in the oneshot. Instead of coming off as threatening, he's now more socially awkward than anything else... which is funny, because I think he's the first truly awkward character I've played (at least in a while.) That being said, there's a lot more mystery in his character too, given that a big change to his backstory I made was that Overwrite selectively erased his past memories. He doesn't know his name, and Sandbox is just a moniker he took on after the memory wipe.

* we'll get back to this in Personality

Design

I'll be talking about him visually here, which SUCKS considering I don't necessarily have any fullbody art of him that I'm proud of.

His character description on his sheet reads as follows:

"Tall and lanky with fluffy brown hair that's starting to grey. Bags under eyes -- constantly looks weary. Almost uncanny glow in iris, like the reflection of a computer screen. Hardly ever seen without a jacket, even in the hottest of weather."

There's a couple more details that aren't in his description that I find important (like the fact that his eyes are brown and that he looks like the spitting image of his mother except for the fact that his nose is crooked because he broke it in high school,) but within that, well, "official" character description is a whole bunch, so let's break it down!

"Fluffy brown hair that's starting to grey." - Sandbox is thirty-seven years old, and given that men tend to start greying in their mid-late thirties depending on genetics, Sandbox is right on the money for this. I like to imagine, however, that the men in his family are really lucky when it comes to greying hairs, and the reason he started "early" is simply because of the stress he's under. The fluffy brown hair is actually a reference to the whole "fluffy haired gamer boyfriend" thing that's been going around recently -- I thought it would be fun to play with those "vibes" when it comes to a man who's generally older than the people that trope refers to.

"Bags under eyes" - I'm actually pulling from a few stereotypes of people who work with computers: you know, the late nights, no sleep, bags under eyes. I like to think it also lends itself to showing just how... well, again, stressed Sandbox is. "Uncanny glow in iris" - here's where we get into some interesting things. See, Sandbox's physical appearance certainly did NOT go unscathed from his little deal with Overwrite, and here's where people normally see the first instance of something supernatural with him -- I'm playing quite literally with the term "blue light" here and mashing it with the visual of a computer's screen reflecting off someone's iris in the darkness. Except for Sandbox... Well. It's constant. And clearly not Normal.

"Hardly ever seen without a jacket" - this one is fun to me purely because I didn't figure out WHY he did this until after we'd played through the first session. It was something I put in as a fun little quirk -- something that simultaneously contrasts and elevates the "comfy" vibes that the dudehole squad party brings to the table (i could talk for hours about their dynamics don't TEST ME). Sandbox is someone who seems comfy -- wears a nice big jacket that he almost seems to sink into. Taking it off, however, reveals something different -- it's not that Sandbox prefers to wear a jacket, it's that he doesn't want to be seen without it.

And why is that?

Well...

This is why.

See, like the glow in his eyes, Overwrite left another mark on his body -- something akin to glowing tattoos. Their design is loosely inspired by a circuit board, and they're also easily clockable as supernatural: after all, they glow, and the color hue shifts the more you look at it. These markings do have a specific purpose, however: while Overwrite can "follow" Sandbox almost everywhere, there are a few places where... technology and internet connections aren't easily accessible. Those markings serve as a sort of... back up battery-- a pool of power Sandbox can call upon when Overwrite isn't reachable. I have a feeling these markings are gonna be pretty damn important next session... Regardless, they're another peculiar part of Sandbox that he doesn't like to show off -- it just means people will stare at him, and he's already awkward enough as is.

Personality

Sandbox is the closest to the "just a guy" trope out of any of my characters. I mean, sure, Overwrite is there and all that, but he still retains that... just, normalness despite literally everything. His favorite color is forest green. He likes Diet Pepsi, but his favorite drink is honestly water. He's a dog person, but gets along with cats too. He adores karaoke and loves singing along to songs playing on the radio even if he doesn't know the lyrics. He's a big fan of the ocean and the beach. He doesn't really want anything more than a good life and a good home. He doesn't want anything more than his family back.

Now, that's not to say he's not impacted by Overwrite. In fact, it's a big part of his character, actually: Overwrite's influence on his morality.

That's right, we're getting into that little bit about "kindness*". See, while Sandbox may be every bit a normal person, Overwrite has still managed to subtly shift the way he thinks. In battle, he's... ruthless. He doesn't seem to care for the lives of other people who aren't close to him, even going the extra mile to try and kill them when his teammates didn't see the need. Now, this isn't because he experiences any sort of bloodlust -- neither him nor Overwrite are inclined to that sort of behavior. It's simply... efficiency. These people may wake up and cause problems later. It's better to kill them so that doesn't happen. Enemies aren't really people in Sandbox's mind. Just problems to be dealt with.

Backstory

Sandbox [REDACTED], ex computer programmer, ex aspiring game dev. He/Him. His wife, Cerise, unfortunately died in childbirth, leaving him to take care of his dearest daughter Clementine. Though devastated by her loss, he did his best to try and raise his daughter and teach her well. While developing his game, his computer managed to contract a terrible virus -- but little did Sandbox know, this virus was controlled by an entity far more sinister and cruel than he could possible imagine. One morning, after he woke up, he was horrified to find his eight year old daughter missing, and was promptly informed by the computer that was talking to him after he most certainly turned it off the night before that she had been taken, and would not be returned until Sandbox did their bidding. And so, in desperation and fear, Sandbox agreed. Strangely, the entity wanted not human elimination, but monster elimination, and through this, Sandbox was able to squeeze another deal out of the entity -- in exchange for magic that would help him hunt monsters, Sandbox would give up his old name as well as memories from his past. Now 37 , Sandbox has been working for the Cryptkeeper's Society for the better part of six years-- always on the lookout for a new mission his entity (which he has nicknamed Overwrite) wants him to be thrown on… as well as any way to get his daughter back sooner.

^ That was adapted from the original description I'd given to my party at the very beginning of Dudehole Squad, back when it was simply meant to be a oneshot. The Cryptkeeper's Society is the group he works for, dedicated to taking care of monsters and other supernatural issues. It's led by one Dr. Casey Aidenwaller, who Sandbox had a very awkward interaction with early on in the first session. I like to imagine Sandbox wormed his way into the Society by simply hacking into their database to collect information on monsters that Overwrite would instruct him to find and fight. His solo work didn't last long though -- another person from the Cryptkeeper's Society found him and kind of took him under his wing: Brodie Gambit. Brodie and Sandbox are two vastly different people (Brodie is the embodiment of a California surfer dude) but Brodie's constant warmth and optimism is something Sandbox really enjoys being around, even if he doesn't always verbalize it. I like to imagine those two as the extrovert and his adopted introvert.

I won't get into other player dynamics because that's a whole other beast, but let's just say that Sandbox worked in information gathering for a while before being once again moved to the front lines. He tended to volunteer himself for missions in remote locations specifically because Overwrite couldn't reach him there. Their relationship is... strained, at best. Overwrite has fun, but Sandbox will never ever forget that they are the thing keeping him from his daughter.

Special Topic: Overwrite

I talk so much about Overwrite. I think they deserve their own special little section.

Overwrite is.. an entity. They are a sapient computer virus. They are a menace. They're an enigma. I created them and even I don't know much about them at all. I don't know where they came from or who made them, or if anyone even made them at all! I don't know why they chose Sandbox. I don't know what they'd done with Clementine all those years she was stuck in the digital world. I know they like to cause chaos and crash into different pieces of technology, but I also don't know why they're so... helpful. I don't know why they want monsters to be taken down. I don't know if they've done this before or how old they are or fucking anything. I can define Overwrite more concretely by what I don't know about them because they're crazy fucking mysterious and also crazy fucking unhinged and I LOVE THEM. Imagine being asked to shut off cameras in a subway system and your idea, as a LITERAL BEING OF TECHNOLOGICAL HAVOC, is to fire off a gun at someone. Perfect idea, 10/10. That being said, I don't know why they're here. I don't know what they want.

Well... I didn't. Now, I have a pretty damn good guess.

See, the first session of dudehole squad started innocently enough. Like, woah, there's people going missing on the subway and a bunch of sewer gators (not related), we gotta find em and figure out what's going on here. Simple. Easy. I mean sure, there were a few ominous ass messages from our DM about a "meat mech" or whatever the fuck, but it was totally fine. This was supposed to be a relatively cut and dry fun oneshot.

Oneshot, I say. And yet, at the beginning of this, I referred to Dudehole Squad as a multishot/short campaign. What happened?

I had an idea is what happened. See, the whole time we were playing, I was trying to figure out how exactly Sandbox's magic worked. Per rules of the Spooky, you can use magic to attack. And... how the fuck do you attack with technology? And then it struck me! "Oh," I said. "The brain is like a supercomputer! Overwrite's powers can hurt people by hurting their brain!"

"Oh, okay." said my wonderful GM. "I'm fucking running with that."

So Overwrite's powers allow Sandbox to, in essence, release electrical shocks to another person's brain. It was described in game as a DDoS attack. He stopped someone's heart momentarily. Certainly nothing fun. But useful. It establishes Overwrite can enter someone's brain, too.

Enter the meat mech. This was, in essence, something that a group of cultists were trying to power to life in order to control and wreak havoc across the world. And we, like idiots, took out the cultists and brought Overwrite RIGHT TO THE FUCKING MEAT MECH. And Overwrite took that opportunity to say "hasta la pasta" to Sandbox and jump from Sandbox to the meat mech.

But hey, at least Clementine's back, right? Yay,,,,,

Fun Facts

Sandbox does actually have a name -- not that he. remembers it. It's Hudson Jones -- he's named Hudson because it's a type of cherry! His wife's name also means cherry, and their daughter's name is a fruit, soo... Jones has no real meaning behind it, unfortunately. I just like how it sounds.

The name Sandbox is, perhaps obviously, due to the "sandbox" type of computer/video game, where you can essentially create and do anything you want.

Sandbox's favorite food is a philly cheesesteak.

Due to Overwrite's efforts, Sandbox, well, technically doesn't exist anywhere. Any records or social media presence have been wiped completely.

Sandbox is a big fan of levers, especially pulling them.

Anyway that's all teehee please feel free to send in more asks ab characters i LOVE talking ab them!!! And if u don't know my characters just send me like. three emojis and I'll assign a character to da ask myself!!!

#dudehole squad #sandbox #character asks

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milknhonies · 4 months

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"THE BUS STOP FOR A BEAUTIFUL SOUL."

A year ago from today something really uplifting happened to me. I texted and told this to my friend @omnia-vanitas69 moments after it happened while I was travelling back home one the bus.

I then went home and tried remembering all the details to note in my diary. Today I'm sharing what occurred on 30th June 2023 @ Alexandria Street - Bus Stop 11. (Photos have been provided.)

I was waiting for a bus to go back home from a class in "Employment skills & Resume design." A helpful program for unemployed people, free and funded by the government to encourage people to get a job instead of living off of Centrelink (Assist Benefits).

At the bus stop was an odd looking fellow. I'll be frank. He was what in Australia we call a bogan. "an uncouth or unsophisticated person regarded as being of low social status." He had lost teeth, unbrushed hair, no shoes on, a singlet and shorts. He was smoking and carrying a plastic shopping bag, I can't remember what was inside.

I smiled at him, because...I perhaps pitied his appearance. I also felt that it better to be nice than rude and silent as we waited for the bus.

I recalled saying "Afternoon. Aren't you cold?" (As June is the winter month in Australia.) And that is how conversation broke out.

An unspoken culture difference (in Australia at least) I've come to learn is that people who have come from the city are not as kindly social to strangers. People in the country or of an older generation can easily hold a conversation with someone they've just met.

Before this interaction I have to quickly provide the context that my father passed away in 2021 June 18-19. It has been perhaps one of the greatest traumas I've experienced.

Now back to the original story.

I'm sitting with this bogan man and I'm talking to him. He's got the thicker brash accent compared to my softer, britanian twang.

We discussed how long we had both lived in Brisbane. I had only been there for a few months to a year at the time. He had been in Brisbane his entire life.

He asked if I had family here and I said "Unfortunately not, but I have a mother who resides in Logan." (Logan is a very large suburb that has been granted the term Logan City and been divided into multiple suburbs. Logan is where many poorer and low class minorities live in the Brisbane region.)

He told me, "My wife, she has a boyfriend now and lives with him in Logan." When I looked at this man closer, I could see tears come to his eyes and his voice began to choke, "She will always be my wife even if by the law she isn't anymore."

I felt unsure whether I should feel empathetic or uneasy. It was an eery situation. My prejudice had battled my mind. But I let empathy take control after a true second seeing the way his face looked. He was smiling. He was softening. He wasn't a scary man. He was devoted.

"Now I will never say a bad thing about that woman," he said proudly, "Not many women are like her you see. Her soul is good. I have come to learn the greatest skill of observation. And I can see just now as I look into your eyes and see your soul. You are a listener."

I recalled thinking, 'great another arrogant male fanatic wannabe psychic.' which isn't a kind thing to think but I really don't approve of people who claim to hold this mass knowledge of the stars and universe especially when they look like a crackhead. It's childish behaviour.

But...he then said.

"You have a soul like hers."

Which at first made me confused and secondly made me feel unsure about him. There was something about his presence that was so magnetising. I did worry he would ask for my phone number and send me a nude image for the purpose of trying to have sex with me like most men usually do.

Instead he wiped his face and softly said, "Now trust me, I'm not trying to get a girlfriend. Don't get me wrong. You must be a lovely girl. I have only ever loved one woman and that is my wife."

I nodded and looked away from him. I didn't know how to feel. I was relieved. I was confused. I was on edge.

Across the road there was a park and a big jacaranda tree in the middle with apartment buildings around the area. It was covered in brown green leaves and purple flowers dying off. I stared at the jacaranda and thought about how ugly the infostructure disrupted the natural beauty.

I thought about how the tree was like a sign of evidence form god that even as we die or have died, we are still alive in his mercy. Christians typically are not meant to believe in the words of a psychic, it's considered unholy, demonic and dangerous if prophecies are true. It made me feel cold and think about how if I continued talking to the man somehow it would damage my soul.

I remember not looking at him when he said this-, "But I want you to know. I want to tell you. Right now. You're a beautiful young lady and I know there's troubles in your past but you will not need to worry about them any longer. I promise you."

It was quite frankly rattling. I couldn't decide whether I needed to hold back laughter or consider running away from him. It wasn't scary but I felt like there was something far more supernatural with the way his eyes and voice seemed to make me feel warm.

He said, "I know I might look mangy and like a dirty old bastard in these rags, but please believe me. Your soul is beautiful and shines out from and through you. You are stunning and must hold your head up to show the world your beauty. Don't let anyone convince you otherwise."

I never told my friend this. This is something I left strictly in my diary until now. This old bogan man touched my chin. He pressed his one pointer finger tip on my chin and sighed softly, smiling with his black and rotten teeth..

He said in the gentlest tone that was just above a whisper, "because you my dear...are a beautiful young lady."

And I felt like I had been harpooned with some invisible arrow in the chest and stomach that I couldn't remove. I struggled to talk. I was not sure how to respond except nod and say, "Thankyou, I'm not sure I believe or agree with you sir, but thankyou for your kind words."

He shook his head and then panic filled his face because the bus I was waiting for was driving passed.

He took off down the street to chase the bus. He knocked on the door. And I was a smidge embarrassed to get on while he told the driver that he shouldn't have driven passed since he could see me waiting.

What's weird is, he didn't get on the bus. It's the only bus number to go through.

It was like...he was waiting there the entire time...just to talk to someone. And without being too vain I might add, just to tell me about what he believed he could see of my soul.

Whether it was real or not is not really the haunting issue. What haunts me is how I could so easily fall in love with a man thrice my age, smelt like a cancerous breath and looked like a toothless chihuahua.

I know it's shameful but if he asked for a kiss, I probably would've granted it. Not in pure lust. No. It would have been light and sweet but full of devoted desire to prove my gratitude to his compliment.

He was noble. Polite and kind. He did not make me feel objectified or sexualised. He made me feel adored and appreciated and loved. We never even exchanged names.

I still think of him. And I hope somewhere he is doing well or at least at peace in regards to the dangers in his health.

But deep deep down i always smile cheekily at the prospect of him not even being human...Like he was some mystic angelic being. Like he was some long lost soul trapped in that man's body for those thirty minutes it took me to wait for the bus.

Anyway. I hope those who read this post will experience this feeling and wave of special spiritual compliments

#old man #bus stop #supernatural #milky thoughts

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heirofhermes · 10 months

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VERSES

Age: 21 Location: New Jersey, or any major city in the U.S. / Canada Goals: to graduate with flying colors as a history major so he can go to Law School. Tag: v:look at my name in black and white; your son is doing something right

Sebastián gave up on México, knowing it wasn’t the place he had to be if he expected to bring a revolution to the Order of Hermes. He packed his bags and enrolled himself into a prestigious college where he managed to obtain a full scholarship (usually Princeton). He spends his days as a History student and his nights as a Quaesitor of the Order, trying to balance his academics with his mage responsibilities.

Age: 34 Location: New York (or any major city) Goals: to become Primus of the Order of Hermes in the city. Tag: v:what if I change the world? If I lead the way?

Somehow he managed to live up to his own expectations. With time and training, Sebastián made a place for himself in the Order of Hermes. His diplomatic approach to relations with other factions helped strengthen his group and his never ending crusade to expose corruption led the Order to get rid of a few rotten apples that were contaminating the whole tree. As the leader of his circle is starting to consider her retirement, she’s expected to name a successor soon and Sebastián’s achievements and reputation are enough for him to be considered as a possible candidate for it.

Age: 21 Location: New York Goals: to become a full fledged Avenger Tag: v:the problem is I gotta lot of brain but no polish

Sebas was a prodigy at magic, but his training was sadly interrupted because he was one of the victims of Thanos’ snap. After the ‘blip’ was reversed, he joined the Endgame battle and his performance was remarkable enough to get Steve Roger’s attention. One of the leader’s final acts before disappearing in time was to recruit him to become a part of the new generation of heroes. Ever since, Sebas has spent his days trying to master his own power to finally earn the title of Avenger.

Age: 33 Location: New York Goals: to become master and guardian of the New York Sanctum Tag: v:always gonna be an uphill battle

The world has seen enough chaos because of the irresponsible use of magic. As a prestigious sorcerer, Sebastián spends his days trying to reinstall some sense of structure within their magical society, and that starts by prosecuting those who have endangered the world by their irresponsible use of their power. Currently he’s building a case against dr. Stephen Strange for the calamity-level spell he casted during Spiderman: no way home and the poor way he handled the events of Multiverse of Madness. No mage as selfish and reckless should be the master of any Sanctum, let alone New York’s, and he’s going to prove it.

Age: 21-34 Location: Markham Goals: to help his fellow mages by the design and reconstruction of a better kind of Circle of Magi Tag: v:been dealing with devils from the start of a young teenage age

The Circle of Magi is an institution that sparks a lot of debate. Sebastián believes Circles are necessary but need urgent restructuration. He believes and actively works on the creation of a Circle by mages and for mages, without templar or chantry intervention. He believes in a Circle that’s a school instead of a prison, which is exactly what he’s attempting to create at his hometown of Markham. However, his political crusade came to a halt with the assault of Corypheus, as he and another couple of mages from his circle were sent to help the Inquisition in the battle for Thedas’ future.

Age: 21 Location: New Jersey (or any major city) Goals: to become a great lawyer Tag: v:I’m too busy loving my name up on that list

Sebastián’s life was never graced with magic, which means thriving has been twice as hard. Alas, his mind was bright enough for him to get a scholarship to Princeton (or any major college). He’s studying history and politics, trying to pave his way to Law School and fulfill his dreams of becoming a great lawyer. Most of his time is spent studying, but he also spends quite a few hours of his week working at a Starbucks for some extra cash to help him through the month.

Age: 34 Location: New York (or any major city) Goals: to fight off corruption in his city’s political landscape Tag: v:not gonna be just a part of their game

Our little genius made all the right calls in life: he went to the right school, met the right people, bet on the right causes. He built a good reputation for himself and fought to prove his worth to this uncaring world. Now, in his adult years, he’s a senior lawyer for Skadden who works white collar cases. This proximity to high society made him aware of a chain of corruption sitting in the offices of Town Hall, and he’s determined to weed it out through legal action no matter if it endangers his very own employment.

Age: 17-18 Location: any major city Goals: to earn a scholarship for a prestigious college Tag: v:no puedo ni respirar

Always be hustling is a life motto for this young Sebastián, who gives it his all both in class and in magical training. Everybody has high expectations of him, so he can’t let them down. Hopefully no turmoil will come to burst the fake image of the perfect kid who has it all together. His anxiety is, after all, still within manageable levels… But who knows for how long.

#verses

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sleepingdeath-light · 11 months

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OH MY WORD SLEEPY WHY

WHO REQUESTED ARVEN AND GIACOMO YOU **KNOW** I HAVE TO TALK ABOUT THEM AHALSJSJWK (also hello :3 I see you actually posted my silly info dumps which is cool! And you being so frickin’ chill about it makes my heart do the skippies)

OK SO UHH-

I LOVE THESE TWO?! ARGUABLY THE BEST CHARACTERS IN THE ENTIRE GAME OF S/V?!

So.. uhh.. you know what time it is, Sleepy 🫢

Ahem! Let’s start with Arven because Arven.. Ooh boy. He’s a SUPER popular character among the.. the SIMPS (AKA me)!!

SPOILERS FOR S/V HERE SO PLEASE DON’T READ IF YOU DON’T LIKE SPOILERS:

-Arven’s parents are professor Turo and Sada (which people confuse as the true professors of Paldea, which isn’t true! It’s actually director Clavell and Jacq!)

-his ace is Mabosstiff, his best friend and the second best dog Pokémon in the franchise (because midnight lycanroc is peak dog Pokémon design). Arven’s parents were actually pretty neglectful and were always in this place called area zero (an area zoned out in the middle of Paldea where no one is allowed in) researching the Pokémon there, so Mabosstiff was the only family he could rely on. Poor Arven.

-His parents actually died during an accident with the legendary Pokémon of this game, but I won’t explain it because it’s too complicated and we’re talking about Arven -w- not his parents!!

-Arven is an amazing cook! He loves to cook up nice meals for his Pokémon and for his friends, too! He wants to become a really good and famous chef one day and wants to make healthy meals that are both delicious and help Pokémon feel better (because Mabosstiff was mortally wounded and after he was able to heal him with the players help, he felt inspired to want to help Pokémon with his cooking)!!

-in the beginning, he’s actually a douche bag. Like, most people in the beginning were like “yeah he gives off rival energy” but once the player helps him find the herbs he needs to help Mabosstiff heal, he’s best buds with us and his softer side starts to show. 80% of the community can agree that his route carried the game.

-his team consists of Pokémon that revolve around either food ingredients or Pokémon that like to eat ^^ like a greedent (eats lots of berries), garganacl (a huge chunk of salt), Scovillain (has two spicy peppers for heads), and other Pokémon like that! :3

-the poor boy is so focused on tryna take care of his Mabosstiff that he doesn’t attend to his classes in the academy. Always getting yelled at for it 😮‍💨

-he’s not good at Pokémon battles which is why he’s leaning on the player to carry him in double battles against Titan Pokémon

-he’s actually the players upperclassman ^^ we don’t have an exact age, but that’s all we know as of right now.

I think that’s all I’ve got for Arven! :) Now for Giacomo!

So.. we don’t know much about Giacomo since he’s not a main character type deal, but here’s some cool stuff about him:

-He’s a dark type trainer! His ace.. is also a Mabosstiff I believe! Either that or a Kingambit.

-He’s a part of team star, a group of rebellious students from the academy in Paldea that like to cause trouble for other students at the academy (but actually, they’re just trying to get revenge on the bullies that gave them a hard time in the academy, but everyone thinks they’re bad guys). Giacomo is actually one of the five leaders of team star!

-the man loves making music. It’s his passion! He’s in charge of making cool songs for his group (and even made the team star theme song himself!!)

-his Pokémon are in timer balls (which is a really neat detail not many people point out) which represents his calm, collected, and patient nature (even though you don’t notice it right away because his intro is so BADASS). He’s a really chill and laid back fellow who really loves his friends and wants to protect team star from the bullies and all that cheesy stuff (but he’s also hiding it behind that super awesome attitude)

-I’m pretty sure he’s like the leader of the leaders of team star (not talking about Cassiopeia- DON’T LOOK THAT NAME UP UNLESS YOU WANT SPOILERS). the other leaders basically go to him when they need any help with something regarding Team Star.

-he wears the autumn (?) uniform along with a black jacket

-he actually used to be the student council president of the academy, but the students made fun of him and disliked him because he made up a ton of super strict and ridiculous rules that they didn’t like, so he quit and joined team star

Not much for fanon here, but I know that the fandom agrees he’s probably either related to Piers and Marnie or he’s a major fan of Piers’ music (especially considering they’re both dark types and their appearances are a tad bit similar)!!

Also Paldea is based off.. Spain! Yay! :) hooray for the Spanish speakers!

Oh wow, that’s quite detailed! Thank you as always for all of the fun facts and background information about these characters ^^

That’s a lot of info to work with and it will help me with writing these characters in a more detailed (and hopefully less ooc) way — so, again, thank you for your help! /pos

And to answer your first question: an anonymous requester lol

Oh! And I’m glad that me being chilled about it is being received well haha ^^

#sleepingdeath #re: fun pokémon facts #🚊 anon

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f10werfae · 2 years

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I Need you More ☁️

Pairing: CEO! Chris Evans x Nurse! Reader

Word count: 1,900

Fluff

Summary: A CEO gets admitted into hospital with mild amnesia, only to find himself falling in love with the only person that can heal him

Warnings: Age gap ( Reader is mid 20s, Chris is 40)

Requests are open!

Likes, Comments and Re-blogs are appreciated♥️

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

(Y/n's P.O.V)

A clipboard was shoved into my hands by Dr.Thomas, my current mentor and supervisor.

“A middle aged man has come in, he’s been in a terrible car accident which right now we assume has lead to him having mild amnesia and multiple broken bones. I’ve given you the duty to look after him so long as it takes for him to fully recover, are you up for the challenge Y/n?”

Desperate to show Dr.Thomas good work, I nodded enthusiastically hugging the clipboard to my chest watching as he nodded and walked on. Slowly letting out a deep breath I looked at the information of my newest patient

Name: Chris Evans

Age: 40

Emergency Contact: None

Injuries sustained: Multiple bone fractures, Back injuries, multiple bone breakages etc

“Jeez he must be in a lot of pain” I said putting the clipboard onto the desk, grabbing a new pair of latex gloves and putting them on. My fellow nurse and friend Lucy came over, snooping at my newest patient.

“NO WAY, YOU GOT CHRIS EVANS?!”

“Why? You know him?”

“Yeah how can you not? He’s literally like the richest man ever and still single. He is so fricking dreamy, but i’ve seen from magazines that he never even gives a woman a second glance”

“Sounds like an asshole” I said chuckling a little, picking up my board and bidding Lucy a bye, before heading to his designated room. A private room, as expected.

Taking a deep breath in front of his door, I walked in to see him still unconscious. Bandages covering the top of his head, his arms and legs either in casts or also bandaged. I felt sorry for him, he has to be the worst patient i’ve seen ever since I joined this hospital a few months ago.

I walked over to the side of his bed, hanging the board onto the hanger.

“Hm, you know you’re actually quite handsome. Shame you sound like a pain the ass from what i’ve heard”

“Excuse me?” Shit, jumping back a little I realised one of his eyes had opened, clearly he had just woken up.

“Oh Mr Evans, you’re finally awake let me just go call a Doctor” I said trying to smile as nicely as I could, trying to brush over my comment.

“Wait no, what am I doing here?”

“Uh well, you kind of got in a car accident Sir, do you remember anything?”

“Uh no? I mean I know who I am, but I don’t remember anything other than my company or my name”

“I see I see, let me just consult a Doctor, i’ll be one second” I replied walking out the door, when I heard him groan loudly

“Ow fuck!”

“Mr Evans are you ok? What happened?” I said rushing over instantly inspecting his body for any further injury.

“Yeah i’m jus playin' with ya, you’re cute”

“Not funny Mr Evans, not funny at all” I scoffed actually leaving the room, not wanting to hear anything else he had to say. Does he really think it’s okay to joke around like that in a hospital? Especially with a nurse that’s only new and is terrified of their mentor.

I walked into the staff room, finding Dr.Thomas drinking his coffee, “Dr. Thomas, Mr Evans has just woken up”

“Ok thank you Y/n, i’ll come see him now” He said putting his flask back into his bag and following me to Mr. Evans' room.

“Hello Mr. Evans, i’m Dr. Thomas and i’ll be your consultant throughout your stay here. Which from our estimate should be around 2-3 weeks if you make good progress, however when you go home you will still be healing physically in terms of bones and fractures. Our main focus right now is helping that head injury of yours, which we suspect has lead to some mild memory loss. Nurse Y/n here will be assisting you throughout your stay, any requests or queries you have just ask her.”

“Oh sweet, the cute one” Mr. Evans said smirking as he tilted his head to peek at me, causing me to scoff and fold my arms.

Dr. Thomas turned around slightly smiling, “Well Y/n looks like you’ve got yourself an admirer” Before walking out of the room leaving us two alone.

“So got any family members coming to visit you or do you have anyone you want me to call? A girlfriend maybe?” I said taking my notepad and pen out.

“Uh no, from what I do remember i’m a lone wolf. So no, no visitors for me” He said smiling, but I could tell he had deeper feelings about this lingering. Deciding not to push the topic any further, I walked over and sat beside his bed.

“So Mr.Evans what do you want to do?” I said leaning onto the side, my head in my palm.

“Well for one, don’t call me Mr. Evans, Chris is fine. Two, tell me about yourself, you’re a mystery to me”

“Well you did only meet me a while ago” I said laughing, now sitting up straight smiling at him.

“Yeah, usually i’m able to read people, but I cannot read you at all”

“It’s the Y/n magic, what can I say” I said shrugging standing up, when I felt him grab onto my arm.

“Wait don’t go, don’t leave me alone please, I mean if you’re not busy”

“I wasn’t leaving, I was just getting you some water Mr- Chris” I corrected myself just in time, walking over pouring him a glass of water.

“My arms don’t work, will you do it for me sweet cheeks”

“Haha very funny, lucky for you this is part of my job” I said grabbing under his chin and gently putting the cup to his pink lips and watching as he drank half the glass.

Pulling the glass away, I instinctively wiped the bit of water that dribbled onto his chin, making eye contact with him when suddenly he winked at me.

Causing a rush of warmth to rush up my body, my heart already going a million miles an hour. Can you tell i’ve never had a flirty encounter before, and the first time I do it’s with a sexy CEO.

( Day 5 )

These past few days had been, different to say the least. Chris had definitely made progress on his health, his memories were more or less back. Although I couldn’t help but notice that when they did return he did seem a bit more down. So I tried my best to cheer him up even a tiny bit, and our first session today was his physio.

“Well hello Chris, are you ready to work on your legs today?”

I asked cheerfully, walking into his room, hanging up my bag and coat in his cloakroom.

“Ready as i’ll ever be beautiful, as long as you’re the one doing it with me”

I smiled at him, walking over and slowly helping him sit upright, putting his legs over the side of the bed. I bent down retrieving his plaid slippers and placing them on his feet. Getting ready to stand back up, I couldn’t help but notice the bulge that had formed in his grey sweatpants, causing us both to clear our throats awkwardly.

Ignoring it, I held onto his forearms and helped him into his temporary wheelchair, “What would I ever do without you Y/n?” Chris asked sweetly, tilting his head back up to look at me. I laughed before bending down, “I don’t know Chris, you needing me would mean you’d be in hospital. I don’t know if that’d be a bad thing”

( Chris' P.O.V)

“I don’t know Chris, you needing me would mean you’d be in hospital. I don’t know if that’d be a bad thing” Y/n whispered into my ear, causing a shiver to run down my spine.

Little did she know, over these past five days she has been the person i’ve needed the most. Not in terms of my health, but i’ve found myself needing her attention, her touch and her care. Is this normal to feel?

(Day 8)

(Y/n's P.O.V)

Walking into Chris' room at 6:30am, I expected him to still be asleep under the covers. When I saw him standing? by the window?

“Chris?! What the hell, you know you’re not supposed to be standing without support just yet, not for another week anyway”

I rushed out running to his side, instantly wrapping my arms around his torso to try and stabilise him in any way how then leading him back to his wheelchair.

“I know I know, but the sun rise looked too beautiful to miss, and i’ve been cooped up in here for so long”

“Ok I have an idea, let’s get your coat on, and no telling Dr.Thomas ok?” I said biting my lip, grabbing his trench coat and helping him get his arms through. He nodded at me, smirking mischievously.

Wheeling him out of his room, I pushed us as fast as I could to the elevator pressing the top floor's button. Once out of the elevator, I tried to avoid all the common areas, slowly leading us to the door that lead to the rooftop.

Pushing open the fire escape door, I wheeled him out to beside the bench, which is where I used to eat my lunch, that was before I started eating my lunch with Chris everyday. He had become someone I learned to need.

I sat on the bench beside Chris' wheelchair, “isn’t this better than your window Chris?”

Not hearing a reply, I looked over and saw him with glossy eyes.

“Chris? Are you ok?”

I asked standing in front of him, bending down a little to cup his face in my hands, his beard cushioning my hands.

“Yeah, I uh, I just, i’ve never had someone care for me this much. You are amazing Y/n, you’ve made me feel something no one else has ever made me feel. I need you Y/n. Not just in this hospital, but out of it too”

Looking into his eyes, slowly the gap between us closed, his slips slotting with mine. With Chris instantly taking the lead in the kiss, him taking my hands off his face and instead cupping my face. Pulling me closer, deepening our kiss causing me to gasp; he took this opportunity to slip his tongue into my mouth. The butterflies starting to erupt in my stomach.

We both pulled away from the kiss, our noses touching as we just smiled lovingly at each other.

“I need you too Chris Evans, more than you need me”

(Day 14)

“Ok babe you ready to go home?” I asked Chris, folding all his clothes into his duffle bag, watching him tie his shoes.

“The question is are you ready to come home with me?” He asked playfully, coming up behind me wrapping his arms around my waist and placing kisses all over my neck.

When the door suddenly opened,

“Ok Mr. Evans your discharge papers are all ready to g-“

“Oh D- Dr. Thomas” I stuttered, slightly pushing Chris away.

“Ah I see what’s happened here, did Y/n get herself a boyfriend?” Dr. Thomas asked playfully, looking between Chris and I.

Before I could even reply, Chris pulled me closer to him, “Can you blame me Dr. Thomas? She’s absolutely perfect”

#girlfriend #x reader #boyfriend imagine #romance #fluff #boyfriend #chris evans imagine #chris evans x reader #imagine #writerscorner #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans #marvel #oneshot #rpf

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gallus-rising · 3 years

Text

So You Want To Write Johnny Fic

I have read many a Johnny fic that, while still being excellently written, have had passages that made me want to tear my hair out. I don’t attribute any malicious intent on the part of the author, it’s just that generally speaking, people don’t know how to write for disabled characters. So I’ve made a little guide here to hopefully help out my fellow fic writers :) And even if you yourself are not a fic writer, I hope you still give this thing a look! I wrote this with fic authors in mind, but I also addressed a few things that I feel are a problem with the wider SBR fandom.

Two things before we get started. First, a disclaimer: I myself am not physically disabled. I have several close family members who are, and they’ve used a variety of mobility aids across my lifetime. They’re what drove me to write this, as I’ve grown up just knowing some of the ins-and-outs and thinking, “well duh, that’s just common knowledge! Everyone has a family member that uses a wheelchair!”. That said, everything here is going to be second hand, so please, just think of my post as a primer! Go out and find advice written by people that are actually physically disabled. And to any wheelchair users that might come across this post, please don’t hesitate to correct me if I’ve misspoken at all!

And second: I’m not going to go into detail on the “Magic Cure” trope. That’s a whole other can of worms, and I don’t want this to get too bogged down. For anyone that’s already familiar with the trope and would like to avoid it, I offer a few alternatives to canon towards the end :)

Okay! Some general things first.

DO NOT USE THE WORD ‘CRIPPLE’ IT IS A SLUR.

Yes, in the time period SBR takes place it might’ve been a commonplace medical term, but there are many hurtful words that were used then that are now considered slurs. If you aren’t physically disabled yourself, don’t use it. Don’t have other people describe Johnny using that word, don’t have Johnny use it in a disparaging or sarcastic manner, do not use it. I can’t stress enough how hurtful some people consider that word to be, so avoid it entirely.

A few miscellaneous things about wheelchair use.

The term “wheelchair bound” has more or less fallen out of use. Most people don’t feel “bound” to their wheelchair, it grants a great deal of independence after all! If you ever find yourself needing a word to describe “person that uses a wheelchair” then just “wheelchair user” is your safest bet.

It's incredibly rude to start steering someone's wheelchair without them asking you first. Imagine you're out shopping and you stop to ask someone what aisle the soda is on, and instead of just telling you, this stranger grabs you by the hand and drags you to it. How would you feel? Now crank that up by 11. Many people consider having their mobility aids touched without their consent to be a form of assault. The only situations (outside of major injury, of course) I can think of where Johnny would ask someone to push him would either be to go up a steep incline, or to help get up-n-over a bothersome step.

Even in 2021 America, 30 years after the ADA, most buildings aren't accessible. Next time you're out and about, pay attention to the architecture around you. How many buildings have a small step at the entrance? How cramped are places like public bathrooms? Are the sidewalks even? You don’t have to go super in depth into these things, but if you're like me and sometimes get a bit hung up on, like, room layouts or whatever, it’s just a few things to keep in mind!

They make bags specifically designed to fit on wheelchairs, either off the back, or under the seat. Just like other handbags/backpacks, you can get ‘em in fancy patterns or more plain/nondescript. What would Johnny keep in such a bag? I don’t know, what kinds of things do you take with you when you're out and about?

Don’t describe Johnny entirely by his disability.

Oftentimes I’ll be reading fic, and come across a sentence like this:

“But, Gyro, I love you,” declared the wheelchair user.

Or this:

The paraplegic held his middle finger up, not even looking up from his book

It’s rude, it’s clunky, and did I mention it’s rude? Think of it this way: what if instead of using a wheelchair, Johnny was incredibly nearsighted and had to wear glasses? Would you still write about him like this? That doesn’t mean you need to ignore his wheelchair entirely, of course. Much like glasses, it’s a physical object that can at times get in the way, be lost/broken, or used to help identify someone. An example:

“Wait a second, have you seen this guy?” Gyro asked, “Blonde, stupid hat, wheelchair and a grouchy face?”

Be careful you’re not infantilizing him.

Yes compared to the other protags Johnny cries a lot. But Johnny is also; competitive, ornery, determined, sarcastic, and 19 years old. Be careful when describing him as a 'boy', and don’t make a big deal about him having youthful features. Don’t have the other characters coddle him either. Gyro respects him as someone that can hold his own, Diego and Hot Pants see him as a rival in the hunt for the corpse parts, and Valentine views him as a legitimate threat. I understand in hurt/comfort and more shippy fics we tend to go overboard sometimes, I feel I’ve been guilty of this as well, but keep in mind the extra connotations surrounding Johnny. The infantilization of disabled people is a huge problem that affects all of us across the board.

Tread lightly on the topic of his self-image.

Johnny does canonically have some self esteem issues in regards to his injury, but unless you’re working very closely with a beta, I’d steer away from the topic. Injuries and illnesses that result in lost mobility are intensely personal things to go through. Unless you have firsthand experience, it is an incredibly difficult topic to navigate.

If you do want to explore Johnny’s self-image in your fics, remember his injury isn’t the only thing he’s gone through. Johnny also; feels responsible for the death of his brother, was all but disowned by his father, regrets the hedonistic rockstar lifestyle he lived at the height of his career, and didn’t have any real friends before he met Gyro. Our poor guy has been through a lot! ;u;

It’s really not necessary to talk about any bowel/bladder dysfunction he might have.

Again, this is just one of those things you shouldn't touch on if you’re not disabled yourself. This is another problem that affects disabled people across the board, and it’s weird and gross how fixated ables can get on this. And yes, this includes jokes I've seen about him wearing a diaper. It's very insensitive, and it needs to stop.

Yes, paraplegics can have sex.

Quadriplegics too.

Sorry, smut writers, but I'll be of no help here. I don't exactly spend a lot of time talking with family about our sex lives. I'm also Very asexual. Just know that yes, many wheelchair users are consenting adults, and yes, that means they have sex. Here’s a disabled sex educator I’ve been recommended to help get you started though! (Note: she has chosen to reclaim the previously mentioned slur. This is a personal choice, not a free pass for you to use it in your works.)

DO NOT USE THE WORD ‘CRIPPLE’ IT IS A SLUR.

Once more, if you didn’t get it the first time.

And now here’s some rambling more specific to Johnny’s injury.

(And when I say this is a ramble, I mean it. Sorry lol.)

So Johnny’s paraplegia (we’ll get back to that term in a second) is the result of a spinal cord injury (SCI), but there’s a lot of different things that could mean. Spines are complicated, and I’m gonna try here to not only work out what happened in canon, but also how you could translate it into your various AUs!

Here’s your spine.

As you can see, it’s sectioned off into four parts, and each vertebrae is numbered. SCIs are roughly identified by the specifically affected vertebra. So for instance, if you break your neck you might have a C1 fracture, C2 fracture, C3 fracture, ect.

Now here’s Johnny immediately after being shot.

Just eyeballing this, it looks like he’s been shot through the abdomen/mid back, which would mean his injury is lower thoracic/possibly upper lumbar. Injuries to these areas can result in loss of sensation below the injury site, lifelong chronic back and abdominal pain, some difficulty breathing, and yes, complete or incomplete paraplegia. (See, I told you we’d get back to that.)

Complete paraplegia is pretty straight forward, it means all of the nerves at the site of the injury have been totally severed. That’s it. Absolutely no sensation, (though some people still experience nerve/phantom pain, because the human body plan is only slightly better designed than the horse’s). This is probably what most people think of when they hear ‘paraplegia’. Even with modern medical science, there’s not really anything that can be done here. Nerves are complicated, man.

Incomplete paraplegia is a lot more varied. All it means is you at least have some sensation in one or both of your legs. This can range anywhere from; total paralysis in one leg and completely normal function in the other, total paralysis in one leg and reduced functionality in the other, reduced functionality in both legs but not full paralysis. The possible experiences here are vast, and I again want to encourage you to seek out blogs/vlogs/books/ect by physically disabled people. Someone with incomplete paraplegia might use a wheelchair full time, walk with crutches or a cane, or switch between mobility aids depending on their pain and energy levels.

It’s also possible for incomplete paraplegia to degenerate to complete paraplegia later in a person's life, either due to inadequate medical care, further health complications down the line, or simply the slow and inevitable march of time that comes for us all!

Okay, here’s where things start to get more subjective.

My personal headcanon is Johnny is an incomplete paraplegic who (assuming he gets proper treatment), would be able to walk with the help of some kind of mobility aid.

From what little we see of Johnny's time in the hospital, we can tell it's absolute dogshit. I'm not qualified to speak on what may or may not have happened surgically wise, but I feel like it's safe to say he never received any kind of physical therapy.

When Johnny wakes up, he's almost completely unable to move. That's most likely due to spinal shock. Once someone with a SCI has been stabilized and is, you know, no longer dying, the injury site becomes inflamed. While the vertebrae and surrounding tissues are inflamed, any signals from the brain are going to have a very hard time traveling past the injury site. Spinal shock can last anywhere from about a week to over a year. After the inflammation subsides, a person may find that they have more functionality than they originally thought. But, in all that time spent healing, the person is losing muscle mass and the nerve pathways are going unused.

My idea here is with real post-op care, Johnny would've been able to walk, either with crutches or a cane. Though he would still have his wheelchair for high pain days and days where he would otherwise have to be on his feet for longer than would be comfortable. Given that by the end of SBR Johnny has both the power of god and anime on his side, I don't think "Jesus retroactively gives Johnny physical therapy" is too outlandish of an idea.

It’s important to remember that the spectrum of experience here is massive! Even if you decide to go along with my specific headcanon, the scenario I outlined here could lead to anything from "Johnny can walk with mobility aids, but it's very painful for him", to "Johnny can walk with mobility aids, and he rarely needs to use his wheelchair", and anywhere in between!

Keep in mind all of the terminology I've used here is very modern. I don’t know much about medical history, so I’m afraid I’ll be no help in keeping your fic 100% historically accurate, but I’m sure few will fault you for that :P

Welp, I think that's it! Thanks to my awful sister @heartattackkidd for reading over this, and thank you for sticking with me all the way through! And remember, just think of this as a primer on the topic.

I hope I've been of some help to you, reader. Reblogs are highly appreciated <3 Now go forth, and write fic!

#Johnny Joestar #steel ball run #gyjo #sbr #jjba #*furious pecking*#i've been working on this for like #a month lol

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bakuhoes-dumbass · 3 years

Text

ABERRATION BOYS BIRTHDAY SPECIAL!

A/N: Hello my nerds, today is my Birthday! So to celebrate my unfortunate birth, I'm doing a special scenario post for my Ab!Boys!

What do the boys from Aberration get you for your birthday?! (GN!Reader!)

These are NOT cannon to the storline.

Warnings: VERY DARK CONTENT. Yandere Headcannons ahead. Mentions of skinning, non-con cum-eating and video recording, stalking, murder, mutilation, manipulation, etc. If you are uncomfortable with these types of things, DO NOT READ. Proceed with caution, as I do not feel bad if you choose to do so while being warned.

MINORS DNI

~~~

Tokoyami

You're seated on the bed, staring at your simple but beautiful ankle bracelet Tokoyami bought for you. Smiling, you fiddle with the gems, entranced by the sparkle that reflects off them.

"Starlight?"

Your head snaps up to see your boyfriend sticking his head through the door way. A love-sick smile grows on your face. "Fumi, you're back!"

He chuckles before slipping through the door way and sits down on the bed, hands behind his back. "Do you remember what today is?" Your face scrunches up in thought before shaking your head. He sighs warmly at the cute look on your face. "Today's your birthday, my starlight. And I got you something."

Tokoyami moves his hands from behing him and your eyes light up upon seeing the book he hands you. "Fumi, thank you! It's beautiful." Your hand traces over the cover, following the lines of the ornate designs. "It looks so familiar..." you mumble.

Tokoyami swallows the lump in his throat. "It's one of a kind, love. Would you like me to read it to you?" He tries to steer the conversation away from your feeling of familiarity, not wantinf you to realize it's one of your old books from before he took you.

You nod excitedly and climb into his lap. His arms circle around you and hold you tight, as his thumb grazes over your anklet, eyes boring into the gems that track your every movement.

Kirishima-

"Happy Birthday to my Pebble~ Happy Birthday to my Pebble~"

You glare at the redhead smiling and dancing in front of you as you tug at your restraints. A low huff leaves your lips. "Can you stop? I don't want you celebrating my birthday."

Kirishima stops dancing and gives you a puppy-dog stare. "But why? It's the day my beautiful wife was born! It should be a day to rejoice!"

"Kirishima, I'm not your wife! I'm nor your girlfriend! I'm not anything to you!" You sit up in the bed you were restrained to, only able to move so far forward. "You drugged me, kidnapped me and are currently holding me against my will."

Kirishima watches with a mixture of sadness and anger at your defiant attitude. He hates it when you struggle. He doesn't understand why you're so reluctant to be here! With him! Your husband! That's when he remembers your gift.

"Oh! This is a perfect time to give you your birthday present!"

He drops to his knees and crawls under the bed. You hear rummeging underneath you and your terror spikes. You knew what he kept under the bed, so this couldn't be good. As he comes back up, he's holding a pair of black leather cuffs.

"Surprise! I got you new cuffs!" He climbes onto the bed and straddles you. "These are so cool because instead of being just normal cuffs, they have these two little metal rivets that will shock you whenever I want!"

Your eyes widen and your mouth opens to scream. Kirishima is quick, however. He grabs your face with his hand, hardening it so your scream is muffled. His face geta closer to yours, that sickening grin never leaving.

"Baby, you don't like it? Do you want something else? Don't worry! I have another gift in mind. How about a fresh, bloodied heart that was ripped out of the chest of that mean boss of yours?"

Hawks

"You see this right here?" Your cowroker holds her hand out, showing you and your fellow employees her brand new diamond ring. "He finally proposed! It was about time. It took him awhile to get an ACTUAL ring worthy of me, though. But it's so expensive and beautiful, EEP!"

Keigo watches as you roll your eyes for the thousandth time. He could tell you were getting annoyed, and I mean, who wouldn't? Your coworker has always been a complete bitch to everyone, a lot directed at you.

"Oof, it just sucks that Y/N can't seem to find someone. That's probably the only way they'll be able to look a little less," she looks you up and down. "Er, homeless."

Keigo watches from his perch as you flip her off snd walk away. His hands clench tightly into fists, desperately wanting to knock a bitch out. That's when it hit him. It was your birthday today! And now he knew just what he wanted to gift you.

~~~

"Bye guys, and thank you!"

You wave to your friends after they drop you off at home. They had taken you out for dinner for your birthday and you bad fun. Definitely something you needed after the crappy morning you had.

As you walk up to your door, you notice a small package waiting for you outside. You smile, wondering of it was your long distance partner sending you a birthday gift. You carefully open the package, but once you see the contents, a scream is ripped out of your throat and you stumble away from the box.

Inside, what a severed finger with an absolutely beautiful diamond ring still on it. You failed to notice a small blood-covered note flitter to the floor.

'Happy Birthday, babybird. I hope you like it.'

Tamaki

Tamaki stares at you from behind a tree. He's been following you for a few hours now, just basking in all your wonderful glory. He stares at you with nothing but pure love and adoration in his eyes, wishing he could actually get up the nerve to speak to you.

Finally you're off of work and headed home. He really hates seeing you talk to all those really pretty people. What if you were to get a partner?! That wasn't him?! He whimpers at the thought, hands clenching and unclenching.

"Y/N!"

The sound of your name snaps him out of his thoughts. He watches as your friend, whom he deemed not-a-threat yet, skip up to you.

"Are you doing anything for your birthday tomorrow?"

Tamaki's face turns pale. Your birthday! How could he forget the most important day of his life?! The day his precious bunny was born. You would be so disappointed in him. He reluctantly scrambles away from his hiding spot and runs home to get your gift.

~~~

"Oh?"

You stand in your doorway, a package sitting on your front steps. You tilt your head in curiosity and pick it up. Opening it up, you find the most adorable stuffed bunny you've ever seen. And a note.

"Y/N, Happy Birthday! I hope you like this bunny, I thought if you when I saw it. Love, your secret admirer."

You squeal slightly and hug the soft fluff, thinking this was from your flirty coworker. You bring it up to your room and sit it on your bed next to your other stuffies.

Tamaki stares at the screen on his phone, his face bright red at the hug you gave the stuffed bunny. It actually felt like you were hugging him! His happiness was through the roof. He knew you would love it!

But his attention now is back on you as he watches you slowly take your clothes off, one by one, to get ready for bed. His tongue practically falls out of his mouth, watching your bare back closely.

One day, he swears he won't have to watch through the camera.

Overhaul

Chronos watches you closely over the top of his book. You glare at him with tears in your eyes while huddled up in the furthest corner of your human sized cage. Hugging your knees tighter to your chest, you turn your gaze away with a sniffle.

"You know the boss wouldn't want you to cry on your birthday."

You roll your eyes and grip you legs tighter. "I doubt someone who keeps a human in a cage really cares about when they want to cry." You sigh. "Besides, he probably doesn't even give a shit if it's my birthday. I don't even give a shit, at this point."

"Of course I care."

The hair on your body stands up on end as the voice of your captor appears. Fear shoots through you upon seeing his masked face. In one hand he has a gift bag, the other stuffed in his pocket.

"Why wouldn't I care about my pet's birthday?"

He squats to unlock the cage and gestures you over with his finger. You swallow the lump in your throat and crawl out to him, knowing the consequences if you don't follow his rules. He sits down in his chair and pats the side of his thigh for you to kneel next to him.

He opens the gift bag and pulls out a dog collar. A part of you wanted to gag at the thought of being collard to this maniac. But another part of you couldn't help but think how absolutely gorgeous and expensive this collar looked.

"Oh, it's beautiful... Master." You wanted to slap yourself for calling him that, but you had no choice. The last thing you want is to be punished.

Kai hums with approval at your words before buckling the collar around your neck. He finsihes it off with a small padlock to the back, so no one can remove it except for him. A gloves finger grazes over your neck in admiration before looking over to Chronos.

"Prep them for a routone cleaning."

The calmed state you were in was once more replaced by terror. "No, please Master! I've been good, I promise! Please dont do this!" You scramble backwards, away from the two masked men. But Kai was quick and hooked his fingers under your collar, dragging yoi back to him.

"You know this is a must, pet. I need to make sure every inch of you is cleansed before I send any more time with you." He taps the side of your collar with his free hand. "And there is no use attempting to run away. This will forever track any movement you make from here on out."

Kai throws your body over to Chronos, who throws your struggling self over his shoulder.

"Oh, and Happy Birthday, my pet."

Shoto

"Darling~"

You stir in your bed, hearing your boyfriend's voice.

"Darling, wake up~"

Eyes open to see a blurry red and white haired man softly smiling down at you. You stretch your body out and yawn with a cute smile.

"Mmmm Sho, good morning~"

Shoto sighs softly, admiring your beautiful features. "Guess what day it is today. It's a very special day."

You tolt your head, trying to remember the exact date but you are the sure. It's been while since time actually mattered.

"It's your birthday, darling! Happy Birthday! I've got something fun planned for you~"

You sit up, your chains rattling against the bed frame. "You do? I'm so excited! What is it?"

Shoto holds up his black card. "We're going shopping. I'll be getting whatever your heart desires."

Your eyes widen. "Wait, does that mean I actually get to go out? Really?!"

Shoto's smile falters before returning to a softened look. Slight guilt flashes in his eyes. "Darling, you know I can't let you go outside. It's not safe. No, we're doing online shopping~" Shoto grabs his phone and crawls behind you, sitting you in his lap. "Here lets look through some sights and get you some cute stuff."

"I want my darling to have everything they want, so they don't want to leave~"

Dabi

"Mouse."

You stay huddled up in the corner of the room, knees to your chest, not even daring to look at him. Dabi frowns at your defiant behavior. He knows he took you without your permission, but that was so long ago. Shouldn't you have been broken in by now?

"Little Mouse."

You continue to rock back and fourth on the floor, chains clanking together. Dabi sighs, annoyance starting to eat at him. He walks over to you and grabs yoi by the throat, lifting you up.

"You are to respond when I'm speaking to you. Understand?" You let out a little squeak and quickly nod your head with widened eyes. He sits you down on the bed and gives you a lazy smile. "That's better. Now, I have something for you."

He opens the closet door to bring out a box. He places it in front of you. "Happy Birthday, my little mouse."

"Oh, yeah. That's today." You mumble quietly. Kmowing Dabi, this gift was going to have some sort of catch but curiosity got the better of you. But curiosity turned into regret immediately as you throw the lid and scream.

Inside the box were a pair of boots. But they weren't jusf any pair of boots, they were handmade. It was human skin staples together, making them look just like Dabi himself.

"What, does my little mouse not like them?" He smirks before climbing on the bed. He grabs your legs and pulls you down towards him with a manic look on his face.

"That's fine. How about I burn my name into you instead?"

Bakugo

"KATSUKI!"

You jolt up in bed, suddenly awakened by a nightmare. Looking next to you, you see your boyfriend's side of the bed empty. A whimper escapes your lips as yoi trt to calm your racing heart.

"Angel?!" The door to the bedroom slams open, Bakugo's quirk popping in his hands and waiting to attack whomever touched his precious angel. He looks around frantically but notices nothing except your heavy breathing and sweat covered body. "Are you alright? What happened?"

You motion towards him with a sniffle and grabby hands. "I had a dream that you locked me back up in the basement again for days, without you." He comes sits next to you on the bed and pushes the hair out of your sweat covered face. "It was dark and silent and terrifying. Please don't do that again! I would miss you! I've been good, I promise!"

Bakugo sighs and pulls you into a hug. "I know, Angel. You've been doing so well, I'm so proud of you." He plants a kiss on your head as you relax into his arms. "I have a surprise for you actually. Stay right here."

You nod your head, watching him leave the room for a moment, your ankle tugging on the chain that attached you to the bed. I mean, it's not like you would get very far. Bakugo comes back in with a plate of cake and a candle.

"Happy Birthday, my beautiful angel."

Your eyes light up as he sets the piece of cake in front of you. You blow out the candle and take a bite, savoring the taste. "Kats, this is so good! The cake is so fluffy and the frosting is creamy and sweet. Thank you!"

Bakugo watches you with a lovesick grin on his face. He goes to adjust the tightness in his pants as he watches you devour his specially made cake without hesitation.

Denki

"Yeah, it's been super weird. I've been finding these little pieces of jewelry on my bed almost every night the past week."

You continue cleaning the counter as you explain to your cowroker the weird things that have been happening to you. She gives you a strange look.

"Are you sure you haven't misplaced your jewelry on your bed and just forgot?"

You turn your head to give her a dumbfounded look. "Uh, yeah. I think I would remember putting jewelry I've nevee seen before on my bed at the same time every night."

"Well, I don't know! It's just so weird. I don't have any other rational explanation." She suddenly gasps. "What if you have a stalker?!"

"Shh, don't say things like that." You hiss at her but a part of you is wondering if that might be true.

After your shift ends, you wave goodbye and begin your journey home. Unbeknownst to you, an energetic blonde watches as you walk home, excited for you to see your final birthday gift.

Once you step through the door of your house, something feels off. Having a weird feeling, you immediately but slowly make your way to your bedroom and turn on the lights. That's when you see a small but long white box placed on your bed, this time with a note. You carefully open the box to reveal a gorgeous necklace with a small black and yellow lightning bolt charm. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you reluctantly open up the note, hoping to finally uncover some answers.

"Happy Birthday, my dear. You can call me Kaminari. And soon, you will be all mine."

Midoriya

*Click*

You turn around upon hearing the closing of a camera shutter but see nothing. Thinking it's all in your head, you shrug and continue to walk to your parents for your birthday dinner.

"Shit, that was too close." Midoriya mumbles under his breath as he hides in a set of bushes just beyond your vision. He scrolls through his camera roll, looking through every single shot to make sure he's got what he needs.

"These aee perfect! Oh they're going to love it!" He checks to make sure you're long gone before he scrambles out of his hiding spot and runs home to make your gift.

~~~

You unlock the door to your house and step inside with a sigh. As much as you love your birthday and seeing your family, sometimes they can be a little much. Now it's time for you to sit back and relax. You change into your pajamas and turn on your comfort movie with a drink in hand, when suddenly your doorbell rings.

"Who the hell is here at 10 at night?"

You carefully peek through the peep hole in your door, not seeing anyone. Slowly, you open the door and look down to see a neatly wrapped gift. You know you probably shouldn't take a strange gift off of your doorstep, but curiosity gets the better of you.

Taking it back to your livingroom, you open it to reveal a scrapbook. Anxiety raises through your body as you open the first page. Eyes widen in horror the further you flip through, non-consentual pictures taken of you and your family litter the pages. Not only are there ones from being out in public, but private, intimate moments that no one should have seen. But the moment you found a lock of your hair glued to one of the pages was the moment you called the police.

Shinso

Shinso squats infront of you as you stare at him with dead eyes.

"Kitten, I have a surprise for you today."

You shake your head, mumbling. "I don't want it."

Shinso caresses your cheek with his hand before giving it a quick slap. You try ti3 jerk your head away but he grips your cheeks, squishing them together. "Stop being a brat, you don't even know what it is yet. Now, stand up."

You don't even get a chance to stand up yourself as Shinso hauls you up by your face. "I'm taking you out for your birthday."

Your eyea widen in fear and you shake your head. "N-No, please. I'd rather stay here. L-Let's do something together here. Please."

Shinso clicks his tongue. "Come now, kitten. I'm letting you go outside. We don't do this very often, it's a special treat. Is it not?"

You shake your head. "Please, no, everytime you take me out you-"

You go silent, mind fogged over and once again, under his control. There are moments when he mind-controls you to where you don't remember anything the morning after and those moments are awful. But when he feels like being extra cruel? He finally takes you outside, taking you out to eat, to see a movie, to go shopping. You're under his control the entire time but you remember everything. You are right there, fully aware of whats happening around you but can't do anything to ask for help, to save yourself. And it's terrifying

A tear rolls down your cheek as you follow him out the front door, his hand in yours. He smirks, knowing you could never leave him.

"Happy Birthday, Kitten."

#yandere mha #yandere my hero academia #aberration hcs #aberration #bakuhoes-dumbass

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erosofthepen · 3 years

Text

Letters From Amad pt.2

After about five months of not knowing how to continue it, i have finished part 2!! There will be a third part, not nearly as long, and i already have most of it written, so it should be out a lot sooner lol. BUT, i hope you enjoy it, and thanks for putting up with me lol.

-Part 1

-Words: 4,898

-Warnings: blizzard/storm, injury, hypothermia, some swearing

-Tags: @grunid, @elvish-sky, @sassyscribbler, @whore4fictionalhoes11, @smaugs-guardian, @bitter-sweet-farmgirl, @jotink78, @marvel-ous-hobbit, @anjhope1, (if i forgot you, im sorry, i have trouble keeping track sometimes)

It was moments like this that reflected Thorin’s terrible decision making. In actuality, his decision to not put anymore lives at risk was very wise. But still, it was Fili who was out there. And Kili. And since Thorin would not send a search party out, it was time to take matters into your own hands.

First things first, you went back to your chambers and put on your warmest, fluffiest, most wind-resistant coat. Rabbit fur covered the insides (the hides were hunted and tanned by Fili, a courting gift to you), and thick leather made up the outside, keeping the cold out and the warmth in. Next, you pulled on your winter boots (you had actually just had them made last week, and there were three little pockets perfect for concealing knives in), as well as a hat, gloves, and a scarf, all knitted by Ori, his way to show gratitude after your help in the libraries. You then proceeded to gather up some salted meat and cram, walk down to the entrance of the mountain, and enter the stables.

You choose a faithful companion to keep you company, namely, Daisy. The Mare had a thick wooly mane, and an extreme proclivity towards sweets. This was not to be your first venture with the pony, and now you knew better to bring him anywhere within five leagues of a bakery. You had not been amused when he had eaten an entire box of pastries meant for you and the scholars, though Kili and Fili had thought it to be the most hilarious of stories. However, despite his tendency to devour pastries, Daisy was reliable and resilient, and you hardly rode any other steed.

Several stableboys tried to dissuade you from leaving in the storm, but you brushed off their remarks as you tacked up Daisy. Thankfully, they didn’t try to block your path as you left, though they did warn you to be careful. You weren’t too concerned, for the storm had grown tamer in the day, and the frost was not biting your face. Yet, that is.

You reached Dale in about an hour. It took much longer than expected, with Daisy being nearly up to his belly in the fallen snow. Dale was practically devoid of men and women, most of them having the brains to stay inside during the storm. The only exceptions were some watchmen and one or two passersby.

“Oi, it’s a bit too cold for a morning ride lady, have you lost all sense?” A guard asked as you were leaving the gate on the other side of town.

“No my good fellow, I'm just looking for my friends. Have you seen two dwarrow come this way?”

“Can’t say that I have, but Maurice said he saw a pair last night, a few hours before the snow started.”

“Did Maurice mention where they were headed?”

“To the caravan, where else? It’s about fifteen miles from here, I would guess. You’re not considering going out there, are you?”

“I’m afraid that I must. Good day to you sir,”

“And a very cold day to you, lassie. Best of travels.”

“And to you as well.”

You quickly left and mentally cursed yourself for wishing him best of travels in return. He wasn’t traveling, you idiot!

The embarrassment faded as the wind began to pick up. The blizzard was steadily getting thicker, the puffy snowflakes turning more compact and icy. The city of Dale had long disappeared behind you in the snow, and you could only hope you were headed in the right direction.

However adventurous and bold it sounds, riding bare-back on a pony in the middle of a freezing cold snow storm was not at all an easy task. Your scarf had been moved to cover most of your face, and your hood was tied tightly ‘round your head, yet the flakes still stung your flesh. You were definitely starting to rethink your whole “making sure the brothers were alright in a storm idea.” Especially since it was pointless to look for them in between the caravan and Dale, as you couldn’t even see ten feet in front of you. Your goal now was to simply make it to the caravan without frostbite.

Around noon, you tried eating a bit of the bread you had packed, only to find it frozen. As well as the cheese. And the dried meat. It wouldn’t do good to gnaw on it either, as that would just make your innards cold as well, so you just went with your stomach protesting.

It was starting to get quite dark when you finally saw what seemed to be a glow in the distance. As you drew closer, it grew apparent that it was the caravan, and you sighed in great relief.

The dwarrow on watch were very suspicious. Of course, once you explained your purpose, they grew less so.

“I come from Erebor, in search of the Princes. Prince Fili and Kili left last night with the intention to travel here, have they arrived?”

The guards started to look a bit nervous.

“No my lady, no one’s seen anything of them.”

Your heart dropped to your feet.

“Are you sure?”

“Aye, the whole group would have known.”

You might’ve cried, but your eyes felt nearly frozen. You turned your pony, with full intent to head back out into the blizzard and look for your love, when one of the watchdwarrow stopped you.

“You’ll freeze out there my lady, as will your pony. Stay and get warm.”

“Aye lass” another said, “Besides, if the Prince’s are out there, her Lady Dís should be informed.”

Ah, that’s right. Dís.

One of the guards led Daisy off to get warm with other animals, while the other led you to Her Ladyship’s tent. He announced your presence, awaited approval, and then lifted the flap of the tent, beckoning you inside before letting it fall behind you.

Dís was a truly stunning Dwarrow, even for her age, with long black raven hair and a beard to match. Some strands were turning silver, much like Thorin’s, and her blue eyes were more piercing than an orc’s. She looked incredibly confused when you walked into her tent.

“Good Mahal lass, what the hell were you doing out in that storm? You must be senseless.” She said, looking up from a book she had been reading and furrowing her brows.

“I was looking for the Prince’s. I should introduce myself, my name is (Y/N).”

Dís’s eyes widened and she stood, showing off quite an impressive height.

“Why would you be looking for my sons out in this storm, (Y/N)?”

“They… Fili left a note this morning, he and Kili were coming to the caravan to see you. The watchdwarrow said they hadn’t arrived.”

The Dwarrowdams jaw went slack for a moment, and then she cursed, banging her hand on a small table that held a bottle of whiskey.

“Foolish boys! Have they no sense? I was to be seeing them in only a few more days, but they could not wait, could they? Och, the beasts!” Dís continued her rant for a while longer, before she turned her gaze back on you.

“And you journeyed out here in the storm?”

“Aye. I could not rest well knowing that they were out in this foul weather. I will be going to head back out to look for them as soon as I’ve warmed up a bit,” you replied, very conscious of the Mother’s piercing stare. She was quiet, until she breathed a worried sigh.

“It’s no use to search out in this weather, lass. Especially at night. Rest here with me, we’ll go searching first thing on the morrow. I must talk with the guards for now, make yourself comfortable, I will return soon.”

And, just like that, Dís left the tent. Her talk was brief, and left you standing dumb in the center of the tent. For some time, you debated on whether or not to go out searching anyways, but the fire was surely inviting, and something in you knew Dís wouldn’t take kindly to you leaving against her wishes.

Your travel bag, heavy and frozen from being exposed to the elements for so long, left your shoulders as you set it down by the entrance. Next came your gloves, and then the outer coat, snow and ice caked on it making your fingers fumble whilst trying to unbutton it. Eventually, it joined your bag, as well as your boots (if you had thought the coat was difficult to get off, the frozen buckles on your boots were torture). After you had stripped the burdensome clothing off, you simply stood in the center of the room, close to the fire. There were blankets nearby, piled near a bedroll, but you dared not touch them, seeing as they belonged to Dís. It was rather awkward, simply sitting in a stranger's (of sorts) quarters, and weren’t sure what to do.

Your eyes did some exploring for you, falling first on the book that Dís had been reading. ‘The Heart of Hrund’. Huh. You recognized the title, from the Great Library, but you knew very little about it. You’d have to read it now. Your eyes then fell to the whiskey bottle. ‘Breaker’s’. Ah. Memories you shared with Kili at the beginning of the journey returned, however hazed they were due to your drunken state. Strong stuff, Breaker’s was. Bofur managed to get his hands on a few bottles from a merchant, and you and Kili had stolen one from him, much to Thorin’s disappointment and Fili’s annoyance (he was upset to be left out of the fun). Your eyes then drifted to a leather-fitted box, beautiful khuzdul runes and designs etched into it, however, before you could get a closer look, footsteps crunched through the snow outside the tent.

Dís and a young dwarrow entered, carrying stew, bread, and a plethora of blankets and pillows.

“Mahal,” Dís started, placing the tray of food down on the little table and grabbing a quilt from the other dwarrow, “Have you just been sitting here freezing? You could have taken a blanket, you know.” She said, wrapping the quilt around your shoulders and moving you to sit down.

“I, er, I didn't want to be rude.” You replied, now sitting cross-legged on the floor. Dís screwed her face at you.

“Lass, it is never considered rude to take a blanket in the cold. Only exception is if someone is already using it.”

You didn’t reply, feeling very uncomfortable social-wise, despite finally starting to warm up physically. Dís grabbed the rest of the supplies from the other dwarrow and nodded at him to leave. As he left the tent, Dís set the other blankets down and started making a bedspace for you near the fire.

“I can help with that,” you said, starting to get up to help.

“Nonsense lass, you get yourself warm.” Dis stood and grabbed the food tray once more. “However, I do request that you eat.” she set the tray down in front of you, and you thanked her, feeling a bit guilty as you started on the stew.

“Uh, have you eaten yet, My Lady?”

Dís scoffed, resuming her work on your bed roll. “Don’t call me that child, call me Amad. I can hardly stand to be addressed in that way by servants, let alone my sons One. But yes, I’ve had my fill.”

Her words shocked you, having only ever heard Fili refer to you as his One. You hardly expected Dís to accept you as Fili’s lover, let alone his One.

“Alright.” You replied, once more feeling dumb and without anything to contribute. So you sat in silence, trying hard not to slurp and watching Dís make up your bed. Eventually, She moved up and away, surveying her work.

“Thank you, that was very kind.” you said. Dís sighed and nodded, sitting down on the other side of the fire. You were quiet once more, and were now re-considering going out to search for Fili and Kili, if only to avoid the discomfort of the situation.

“I hope you are only not talking because of the storm. I expected a much more chatty lass, if i’m being honest.” Dís remarked, eyeing you carefully.

Panic flashed through your eyes as you tried to think of something to say, but Dís let out a soft chuckle before you could make a fool of yourself.

“I’m only joking, child. You needn't be nervous here. Tell me, how was your journey from the mountain to here?”

“Cold,” You blurted out, shuddering as you imagined the wind biting your face. Dís smiled at your bluntness.

“Indeed, I imagine it would be, especially if you’ve been out all day. Tell me, was there any sign of them as you came over?”

You shook your head. “Unfortunately no, I could hardly see past my nose once the snow grew thicker.”

“I swear, those boys will be the death of me,” she muttered.

“Just be glad you weren’t Thorin trying to deal with all three of us,” you said without thinking. Dís locked eyes with you, and then started chuckling.

“I do not envy him, based on what I've read of you three. It seems that you made it your entire purpose to create trouble for my brother dear.”

“Well, we tried to. For the first half of the journey, at least. He was much more willing to withstand our meddling before we crossed the Misty Mountains. Then came the orcs, and goblins, and Mirkwood, Laketown, the dragon… and the battle too.” Your face had fallen whilst you spoke, and Dis reached out her hand to comfort you.

“You mustn't dwell on the hardships of the past, child. It does nothing but cause trouble for the mind. Believe me, I know.”

At that moment, Dís seemed to age very quickly, and the wisdom and experience that this dwarrowdam had became clearer. You knew her story well-enough, from nights Fili had needed to find comfort in you, telling you about his childhood and family. Dís had wed Víli Heptifilissøn, and twelve years after Kili had been born, he had fallen ill from the Black Lung*, and had spent months growing weaker and weaker until he perished. Fili was able to remember the wretched coughing, and his Adad’s ragged breaths, as clearly as the day it happened. It was the reason he refused to go deep into coal mines, or else made up excuses. If those memories still hung onto Fili, you could only imagine how horrible it must have been for Dís, who had to watch her husband suffer such a death. Looking at her now, you never felt more in awe of a single person.

“You speak truly, my Lady-”

She looked at you sharply, but with a twinkle in her eyes.

“-I mean, Amad.”

That satisfied her, and she relaxed her hand away. “I do indeed, child. Never has a lie crossed my lips. Except when I told Thorin that he had a mighty spider in his beard.” You chuckled at that, but it quickly turned to a yawn. Dís raised a brow.

“It’s time for sleep then,” she commented, “I’ll leave you in peace to finish eating, and then it’s straight to bed.” Dís stood and went back to her chair, and resumed her book, leaving you to scoop that last of the stew in your mouth. It was not long before you were warm and cozy in your makeshift bed, and Dís bid you goodnight before blowing out the lanterns.

You woke to shouting. In your groggy state, you couldn’t make out the words, and you blinked in the dim light of the fire.

“What new madness arises?” You heard Dís murmur, followed by the sounds of her fumbling about. The shouting grew nearer. “Are you awake, (Y/N)?”

“Only partly,” you replied, trying to untangle the covers from your legs. You shuddered as the extra warmth left, but hurried to your feet, only stumbling slightly. The noise was becoming considerably louder, and your ears could start to make out the words being yelled.

“Get a healer, lads!”

“He looks frozen stiff!”

“SHOVE OFF! WHERE IS AMAD?” Kili’s furious shout snapped you into alertness. At that moment, Dís was able to find a lantern, and finally the tent’s interior was more visible. The flap in front of the tent lifted, and Kili stumbled in, hair frozen with bits of ice and face bright red. With horror, you realized he was supporting another dwarf who was barely conscious. Fili.

You jumped to your feet and rushed towards your betrothed, supporting his other side and lifting his head. Fili’s lips were tinged blue, and his teeth were chattering bitterly, clacking together in a terrible rhythm. Dís was there not a second after you, and she helped guide you all to lay Fili down in the space you had slept just moments before.

“Strip him down,” Dís commanded, starting to work on his boots. You followed her orders without hesitation, helping Kili with Fee’s coat. It didn’t take too long for the three of you to undress him to his underclothes, and you winced when you saw his shoulder looked… definitely not normal. Dís pressed on it gently, and Fili made a weak groan that twisted at your heart.

“He fell off his pony,” Kili said.

“Of course he did. Kili, fetch a healer.” The younger prince sprang up, filled with energy even after being out in a blizzard for nearly an entire day. But he was hardly at the entrance when a grizzled old dwarrow entered, a satchel in hand and a hard look set in his features.

‘‘Hanarr,” Dís welcomed, nodding her head. The old dwarf grunted in acknowledgement before kneeling down by Fili’s shoulder, feeling along the bone. He grunted once more, before looking up at Kili.

“Hold down right here lad,” Hanarr instructed, moving Kili’s hands to rest on Fili’s other shoulder and chest. “Right, hold it firm.”

Hanarr outstretched Fili’s other arm, and began to move it towards his head. A click sounded, and Fili called out, however weakly. His shoulder looked back to normal again, and Hanarr quickly folded his arm against his chest, before searching through his medical pack and pulling out a sling.

“Sit him up, lad.” the healer instructed Kili. He propped Fili up against his side, and this time, Fili held his own head up, his gaze landing on you. Confusion flitted across his nearly-frostbitten features, and he mumbled your name despite of his state.

But Hanarr was upon him again, and soon the sling was fastened to his arm, and the Healer was moving his legs so that they were tucked against his chest. He addressed Kili once more, “Get rid of yer tunic, and stay close to yer brother” and then turned towards you, “do the same, but mind his shoulder lassie.” Without hesitation, you followed his command and soon Fili was sandwiched between yourself and Kili. Dís (with the permission of Hanarr), wrapped several blankets around the three of you, and soon set to work on making some tea. Hanarr presented her with a root of ginger, and, after seeing that all that could be done was done, decided to take his leave.

“He should be fine in a few hours, I'll come back to check on him soon. Keep him awake.” were his final words before departing.

The silence that followed his departure was intense, interrupted only by the sound of the fire, the kettle, and a knife. Dís was the first to speak.

“I would have your hides, if I was not so glad to see you again.” She said in a low voice as she shredded the ginger.

“I’m sorry Amad,” Kili said, eyeing the movement of his Amad’s knife, “Patience has never been my strong suit.” Beside you, Fili shifted and rested his forehead against your temple.

“Indeed not,” Dís replied, her voice heating like the water she was boiling, “How did you convince your brother to join you in this endeavor?” Fili moved again, this time nuzzling his face into your neck and hair, his nose startlingly cold.

“Who said it was my idea?” Kili argued. However, Dís turned her glare on him, and He flushed and murmured, “he wanted to see you too, it didn’t take much to convince him.”

“(Y/N)” Fili said, drawing the attention away from arguing. “ ‘m tired.” He let his head rest heavy against your shoulder, and you (reluctantly) moved him away.

“You must wait to sleep, Kidhuzel,” You said, bringing your hand up to brush his hair away from his face. He opened his eyes wider, in sheer betrayal. You could have smiled, knowing Fili’s tendency to become unreasonably cross when denied sleep, but instead you kissed his cheek.

“Your Amad is making tea for you, and when you drink it, you’ll warm right up.” The blond prince’s eyes dropped once more and he tried moving back to the crook of your neck, only to be refused a second time.

“ I’d prefer Ale,” He muttered bitterly. At this, you did allow yourself to smile.

“Not a chance. Your heart might stop.” He grumbled and detached his uninjured arm from Kili, taking your hand and squeezing it with what feeble strength that had returned to his veins.

“It won’ stop as long as you’re ‘ere.”

Kili snorted, but was silenced as Dís sent him another glare, and you laughed softly, shaking your head and squeezing his hand back.

“If it worked that way, then I would gladly give you the finest Ale, however, I do believe tea would be a better option.”

When the tea was ready, you helped Fili to drink it. At first, the prince had winced at the heat, but soon he drank it gladly, becoming more alive with each sip. You sensed Dís watching you and Fili carefully, but brushed it off, telling yourself she was only concerned for Fili, not observing how you interacted. A small part of you that wouldn’t be silenced said it was both. Soon the mug was empty, and it had apparently helped Fili along much more than you anticipated, and soon he had detached himself completely from his brother and was pulling you closer.

“Careful of your shoulder,” you reminded him.

“ ‘s fine.” He replied, pressing flush against you. His skin had already warmed, thus proving the hardiness and hot blood of dwarrow. Kili scooted away, seeing that he was no longer needed, readjusted the furs covering yourself and his brother, and pulled his tunic back on. Dís immediately walked over and threw another fur across his shoulders, and pulled him into a tight hug, which he returned just as tightly. You averted your eyes when Kili started to sniff and tremble.

“I missed you,” he said.

“And I as well, inùdoy” Mother and son stayed in once another’s embrace, until she drew away and made him drink his fill of ginger tea as well.

A half hour later, you were struggling to keep Fili’s eyes open, and Kili had already crashed on Dís’s bedroll. The dwarrowdam herself grew impatient for Hanarr’s return, and had gone out searching for him. She reentered the tent with him not ten minutes later, and Hanarr (as grumpy and irritable as he was, he was an excellent healer), inspected Fili. Truly, your prince was proof that dwarves were nothing more than portable furnaces, and his temperature was more or less back to normal. He still was a bit out of it, but it was nothing a good night’s sleep wouldn’t fix. Soon Hanarr declared that it was safe for Fili to sleep, and almost immediately, the blond sank into your bedroll and began to snore.

Diís left after Hanarr, telling you to rest and call her if need be. You didn’t question where she was going, and she did not share it with you.

However tired and exhausted you were, sleep would not come. You sat in front of the fire for hours, feeding it and stoking it, keeping your mind entertained with the images dancing in the flames.

You had just finished adding another log to the fire, when a hand lightly gripped your wrist.

“Ghivashel” Fili said faintly. Your head turned towards him, and you smiled despite all things; for while Fili’s face was still red, his hair undone, and his eyes bleary, he was alive and conscious.

“Khuzd allakhul” you scolded, bending down to lean your forehead against his, “What sort of prince are you, to go out in the snow and frighten your lover?” You kissed his lips softly before drawing away just enough to wait for his answer.

“A very foolish prince indeed,” He murmured, his hand on your wrist pulling you back towards him. “But what sort of lover are you, to worry so greatly and come after me in the snow?”

“A very devoted lover, who has half a mind to leave now that you’ve insulted my care of you.” Fili’s eyes widened and he summoned his strength to pull you down, nestled in his side.

“Forgive me, I was not thinking of insulting you, amrâlimê. I just don’t want to see you suffer for my sake. Menu Tessu.” He said, turning his head to press a kiss to your temple. The beads on his mustache braids still felt frozen, but his lips were warm. You smiled and took his hand, entwining your fingers together.

“All is forgiven. So long as you won’t do anything as stupid as that ever again.” you replied. Fili sighed and kissed the side of your mouth.

“I shall try my very hardest not to.”

“That isn’t very reassuring.”

“Then you must forgive me once more, for I cannot make such bold promises whilst Kili remains my brother.”

You both chuckled at this, before settling into comfortable silence. Slowly, your eyes began to drop, the crackling of the fire and the steady rhythm of Fili’s breath making it harder and harder to evade sleep. The fact that the lion prince had begun to rub circles into your shoulder with his thumb wasn’t helping. After the third time you startled yourself awake, Fili’s voice was near your ear.

“You can sleep now, Amralime. I won’t be going anywhere.”

His words were nothing short of a spell, and in less than a minute, your eyes closed and sleep overtook you, a comforting, dreamless sleep, the best kind.

When next you woke, indeed, Fili was still right next to you, awake, but only just. He was blinking the sleep away, and you suspected that his movements had been what had woken yourself. Cold winter light was shining through the tent flaps, cutting like a blade through the warm glow that filled the inside, and a conversation was taking place.

“We left in the wee hours, m’lady, just before dawn. You can imagine the state Thorin was in when he heard that the entire future of Erebor was out in the snow.” The voice of Dwalin more than successfully brought you to awakeness, and you sat up, looking around for the source of his voice.

“Indeed, I imagine he would be weathering the floors with pacing. I expect we’ll be leaving soon, no?” Now Dís spoke, and by this point, you and Fili had turned behind you to see the pair talking over mugs of mulled wine. Kili was also there, however, he was still dreaming on Dís’s previous sleeping roll, limbs sprawled out wide and mouth hung open almost comically.

“Aye, as soon as these three are dressed and ready.” Dwalin said, turning his gaze onto you and Fili, brow raised and the slightest of smiles on his warrior face. “What a lot of worry you and your brother had us in,” he continued, addressing Fili specifically, “I swear to Mahal, you’ve no idea what sort of panic you caused. Course, when yeh come back with your shoulder like that, everyone’ll be doting on yeh. ‘The poor heir who got caught in a blizzard trying to see his Amad’, not ‘the fucking idiot who didn’t have any patience and went out in the night despite knowing there was a storm brewin’.” But all while saying this, there was humor and relief in the warrior's voice, betraying how glad he felt that the boys were not frozen under three feet of ice and snow.

“Both versions are correct,” Fili pointed out, his voice still croaky from sleep.

“Aye, but only the first version will get told.” Dwalin replied, to which you laughed. He turned his focus to you now. “Don’t think you’re innocent lass, Thorin nearly had a heart-attack when we couldn’t find you. Both the heirs missin’ was bad enough, but the lady who’ll be adding to the heirs disappearing made it all worse.”

“Och, Dwalin, she had a noble cause to come out in the snow, you needn’t blame her for anything.” Dís said, coming to your aid.

“Was our cause not noble and justified?” Kili’s voice piped up. The Prince's eyes were hardly opened, but he was more than ready to defend himself from accusations.

“Not when you were to be seeing me in less than a week. If I was able to refrain myself from going out into a blizzard in the late hours, you should have been able to as well.” Dís retorted. A sour expression crossed Kili’s face, but he dared not argue with his Amad.

“Right then,” Dwalin said, “Get yourselves up an’ ready, we’ve not much daylight left to get back to Erebor.”

*Black Lung: Coal miner’s pneumonia.

Kidhuzel: Gold of Gold

Inùdoy: Son

Ghivashel: Treasure of Treasures

Khuzd allakhul: Stupid Dwarf

Menu Tessu: You mean everything to me

(part three will be out soon)

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havethetimeofyourstyles · 3 years

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in which harry doesn’t like halloween until a certain pair of trick or treaters knock on his door.

a/n: HAPPY HARRYWEEN EVERYONE! personally don’t like halloween myself, but I hope everyone has a spooky and fun day (indoors, ofc)! here’s my first halloween piece that was meant to be a blurb, but turned out a little longer than expected, enjoy!

thank you to ira @stylesloveclub & cait @sweetcreatureinthedark for reading this over! <3

enjoy 5k words of teacher/dad!harry being cute

warnings: brief mention of death, mostly fluff

LETS TALK ABOUT PEBBLES & THE SCARECROW IN MY INBOX! pls let me know your thoughts!

pls rb to share! <3

Harry wasn’t fond of Halloween, if he’s being honest.

The thought of people putting on scary masks, scaring little kids out of their driveway is something that was so unsettling to him. The scary movies that always release around the month of October that promoted their commercials, causing him to startle on the couch because of the jump scare was not something he looked forward to every year. Especially when those said movies would have their ad on the radio, which makes it even scarier because he could only listen. He would usually have his Bluetooth on with his own music playing, but when it’s only a five minute drive, he doesn’t bother with the Bluetooth. Either way, he doesn’t like it.

Halloween is not fun, he would say every year.

However, the upside to the month of October was something he looked forward to because that’s when the weather really changed. September would be sunny and hot still, but then comes around October and the sun would peek behind the clouds as the weather got colder. The leaves would fall from their branches and onto the ground, loving the sound of the crunchy leaves beneath his feet, especially building a pile and jumping into them. Not alone, of course, but with his baby girl who loved to just squeal and laugh at her dad whenever he would jump into the pile of orange leaves that he collected on their front lawn.

Wynn, his daughter, also loved the change of fall weather just as much as he did. Harry would hype it up so much because October was the start of holiday season, and he loved being in a festive mood. So, naturally, Wynn picked up on his behavior and was just like her dad; jumping up and down when he would get excited.

Another thing that he liked about Halloween was that he got to pass out candy to the fellow trick or treaters to all the students in the school during their Halloween bash, and to the kids in his friendly neighborhood. Every year, he would buy plenty of candy for the students—sometimes buying too much because he didn’t want anyone to be left out when they would walk up to him. But if he did have extra, he would save them for later that night for the kids in the neighborhood.

He loved seeing the students’ reactions when he would tell them that they had a cool costume. He especially loved it when the kids would compliment his own costume. Some teachers didn’t really like to dress up on Halloween as they only wore a headband of some sorts or a festive t-shirt, but Harry liked to go all out. He’s been teaching for six years, and every year, he made sure to join in on the fun. One of his favorite costumes was when he dressed up as Peter Pan and Wynn was Tinker Bell. They always coordinated costumes, and Harry hoped that once she gets older, she would never stop wanting to match with him, but he knows that’s inevitable; he’ll just hold onto these moments for now. That was one of his favorites because Wynn just loved her costume so much that she didn’t want to take it off, so seeing her so happy in her princess dress just made his heart burst.

But this year, he thinks he’s topped the previous years.

As he said goodbye to Wynn, dropping her off at her class, he greeted her first grade teacher.

“Oh! Don’t you both look absolutely adorable!” Mrs. Robin, an old lady who had been teaching for years and retiring this school year, said.

“Thank you, Mrs. Robin. Think this year is my favorite,” Harry said, looking down at Wynn as she nodded her small head at him. Harry was dressed as Fred Flinstone and Wynn was Pebbles. He thought she was the absolute cutest, and he even did her hair the same way in the morning, but instead of a bone, he replaced it with a white bow.

“You two always have the loveliest costumes!” Harry looked down at Wynn, raising his eyebrows at her to say thank you, and she looked at her teaching, thanking her.

“Anyways, I gotta go get my class from their line. I’ll see you later at the bash,” he told Mrs. Robin. He bent down, meeting Wynn’s eye level. “Be good, okay?” His daughter nodded. “I’ll see you later. Make sure you say hi to me,” he reminded her. “Love you, bunches.”

“Love you, tons,” the little girl replied, and he gave her forehead a kiss before she wrapped his arms around his shoulders, giving him a hug. They’ve always been inseparable, and Harry had separation anxiety whenever they part even if it’s just a little bit. And as much as he loves how much his daughter loves him, he hoped that she doesn’t suffer from it as well—although, he thinks it’s starting to begin. He couldn’t help it—he was an affectionate person and always loved to give her hugs and kisses, to which she would give them back.

Harry quickly walked to his classroom, putting his belongings and the bags of candy down before walking out to pick up his class. Harry taught the third grade, and they were a smart bunch. He loved how it was in between sweet and cuteness, but also watching them grow. He thinks fourth and fifth grade was when they started to become too sassy and dramatic, so he liked being in between.

“Hi, everyone! Happy Halloween!” He greeted, and his class cheered, some of his students telling him that he looked so cool, and Harry said thank you to them as he complimented them back. “Everyone follows me in a straight line. Don’t stop walking, don’t stray, don’t turn around, and please be sure to keep all hands and feet inside of the vehicle, got it?” They all nodded. “Alright, enjoy the ride, here we go!” He started walking as he smiled. He came up with that line when he was in his second year of teaching as he wanted his class to have fun while going into the classroom, so he acted like it was a rollercoaster, and the kids seemed to love it.

When they got inside the classroom, the kids took their seats at their desk. Harry told them that they had to do a quick lesson before the Halloween bash, earning a groan throughout the classroom.

“I know, I know. But it’ll be quick! And then we’ll all have fun after. Unless you all would prefer I teach the lesson after the bash and after lunch?” He asked, knowing what the answer would be. Usually on Halloween, they would have a lesson, the bash, lunch, and Harry would put on a movie as he passed out treats to fill in the rest of the day before the school day ended. Their heads shook as Harry chuckled. “I figured,” he said before he started the quick lesson on reading.

The lesson only lasted thirty minutes, just in time to head out to the bash. All the classrooms were filing out to the courts, which was the larger area of the school that could fit all eighteen classrooms. The classrooms form a single line all around the three basketball courts, and each class would walk around in a single file line with their bags in hand as the teachers would pass out candy. Music would play and some of the staff would dress into one of those big floaty costumes to jump around in and entertain the other classes who were patiently waiting. The parents were allowed to join as well if they had the time to see their kids in cute costumes; the more the merrier.

Harry’s class stood in their designated spot, having them line up, and he walked around to check if anyone got left behind, which no one did. The music started and classroom number one was instructed to do their lap, which were the kindergarten classes. Harry was classroom number eleven, so he got his big bowl of candy ready as the first class started to walk around. He saw some really fun costumes; one student was the sun and their friend was the moon, which he thought was so adorable. Once the class before the next was halfways, the next class was instructed to go.

It went by fairly smoothly, although he could tell that some students were bored, which was understandable. Harry waited for Wynn’s class, in which she was in classroom number six, the last one of the first grade class. He spotted her in her bright green polka dot shirt and tortoise pants—she looked so adorable. He got his phone out when her class was close enough, taking a video of her at the same time as passing out candy.

“Hi, Daddy!” She greeted, reaching up to hug him.

“Oh, you’re the cutest. Hi, bubba,” he said as he hugged her back. The embrace was so sweet that he didn’t want to let go, and he didn’t until Wynn said something.

“Uh, daddy, I gotta go now.” He snapped out of it, and saw that her class was onto the next two classes. He let go of her before kissing her cheek, saying see you later.

The rest of the Halloween day went by smoothly. It was quite cold out, so the teachers were allowed to have the students eat inside if they wanted to.

By the end of the day, he picked Wynn up from the front before he made sure his entire class was picked up safely.

“Did you have fun?” Harry asked Wynn once he saw her.

“Yeah! Look at all the candy!” She showed him her bag full of sweets.

“Wow! Alright, let’s get home and sort through the ones you want and don’t want. Gonna have to pick fifteen,” he told her and she pouted. He hated that pout, even though it was adorable, it was a dangerous pout that had Harry almost give in, but he had to be the strong parent. “Sorry, pretty. Thems the rules. Last year I gave you ten, so I bumped it up by five.”

“Alright…” she trailed off, and Harry chuckled.

Before they left, he quickly caught Mrs. Robin before she walked away. “Oh, by the way, Mrs. Robin. Do you mind taking a picture of us? Realized I forgot to take one this morning.”

“Of course, dear! Harry unlocked his phone and opened the camera up before handing it to her. She pointed the camera towards them as she snapped a few pictures of them. They were smiling brightly at the camera before Harry picked Lynn up, so they were the same height. “Here you are. Have a lovely Halloween, you two.” Mrs. Robin bid them goodbye as they both waved. Harry looked at the pictures, seeing that they were blurry and some of them had her finger in the lens. Harry brushed it off, chuckling to himself as he’ll figure out how you two will get a picture later.

They headed to the car and on their way home to continue the fun with by getting and passing out more candy.

The cold 5 p.m evening was relaxing and quiet as there weren’t many trick or treaters out just yet, only the little ones that needed to get their candy early in order to be back before bedtime.

And that’s what you were doing with your three year old. You asked Penelope if she wanted to go and get candy, and just the sound of candy coming out from mommy’s mouth was music to her tiny ears, so she nodded her head.

“Go now?” She asked, and you looked at the time as it was almost five in the evening.

“Yeah! We can’t stay long because it’s gonna be cold and I don’t want you to get sick,” you told her.

“No, I don’t want sick,” Penelope shook her head no.

“Yeah, me either. I’ll bring a jacket just in case, don’t worry,” you reassured her, and she smiled.

The jacket didn’t take long to put on. Once you felt the breeze rush through you, blowing away some of the leaves from the ground as Penelope was stomping on them, you immediately put her burnt orange teddy bear coat on over her scarecrow brown dress. You left the hood off since she was wearing a pointy black hat with a sunflower attached to it, which kept falling off everytime she jumped a little too much, might you add. So, you kept having to pick it up and put it back on her.

You two had visited five houses so far, all houses being so lovely to Penelope as they complimented how adorable she was. Now, you were walking towards the next house when you suggested you go across the street since some of the other houses had signs already prepared saying ‘no candy!’

Penelope usually went with the flow, so she agreed as you two walked across the street and decided to just complete the entire block before walking back home before it got too cold and too late.

“Go on, baby,” you encouraged her to knock on the black door. She ended up slapping the door with her open palm because she said knocking was hurting her hand. You waited at the bottom of the stairs for the owner of the house to open the door, and Penelope waited thirty seconds before she turned around with a pout on her face. “Don’t think they’re home yet. Lets go to the next one!” You said enthusiastically, hoping to lift her frown. She walked down the brick stairs as you reached out for her hand to hold.

As you made it down the walkway and onto the sidewalk, you heard the door open frantically, making you turn around from the sudden noise and from a man calling out for you.

“Wait, wait! I have candy!” The man ran down the walkway in a Fred Flinstone costume with a bucket of candy. You chuckled a bit because never did you imagine Fred himself was chasing after you. He was a very attractive man and he pulled the Flinstone costume quite well. “Sorry, I, uh, was just getting changed into my costume. I’m sorry it took so long. I didn’t realize people would be out trick or treating so early,” he said breathlessly from his rushed actions.

You giggled. “Well, this one has to before she makes it for bedtime,” you referred to the little one who was jumping on the leaves. Harry looked down as his eyes beamed.

“Well, look at you! Aren't you the cutest scarecrow!” Penelope looked up once she heard her costume. She smiled at the unknown man, but all she knew was that he had a bowl of candy that she would like to get her hands on. “I got lots of options here. You could choose one or two if you’d like.” Harry bent down to Penelope’s height, holding out the candy bowl to her. He had full fixed candy bars and candy packs, and you thought that must’ve been expensive.

Penelope picked the candies she knew, which were a Hershey’s Cookies n’ Creme bar and a Twix bar. You raised them up to you, beaming proudly as you lowered her candy basket for her to put it in.

“What do you say, baby?”

She turned to Harry again. “Tank you!”

“You’re welcome!” Harry responded. “Oh, uh, I’m Harry, by the way.” He shook your hand, introducing himself. He smiled, dimples popping out and you felt yourself blush.

“I’m Y/N,” you smiled.

“And who might this be?” He bent down again at Penelope.

“I’m Pennie!” Your daughter introduced herself, and you smiled proudly.

“It’s lovely to meet you both. You look amazing, Pennie! Although, your mummy doesn’t have a costume on,” he teased, looking at you as he smirked, making your heart flutter.

“Well, mommy stayed up all night putting together and sewing her costume together, so I didn’t have time to make one for myself,” you explained. You were quite proud of Pennie’s costume. It was a brown dress with long sleeves that had different fall colored squares, but it was all one piece, so Pennie didn’t have to wear something underneath besides her leggings.

“Wow, you made this? This looks amazing!” Harry complimented, and you humbly said thank your

“So, uh, since your Fred Flinstone, is the rest of your family dressed up too?” You asked curiously.

“Oh, no. Just my daughter,” he chuckled, “which by the way, you need to see her costume, one second.” Harry quickly walked into the house, calling out for his daughter. You and Pennie waited on the sidewalk. After a few seconds, Harry came out with his daughter holding his hand as you thought they were the cutest pair.

“You two are just adorable!” You squealed as you looked at them fondly.

“Hi, I’m Wynette, but I go by Wynn,” the six year old girl smiled as she introduced herself.

“Hi, Wynn. I’m Y/N, and this is…Pennie, please stand up.” You found your daughter laying in the pile of leaves. Harry and Wynn laughed fondly. “Sorry about that.” You got Pennie to stand up, brushing her dress off from the dirt and mud.

“It’s okay! Wynn and I love to jump and lay in the leaves all the time,” Harry said. “Oh! Actually, do you mind doing me a favor? I know we just met, but…”

“Yeah, of course!” You accepted.

“Do you mind getting a picture of us? We tried getting on earlier, but it was all blurry,” Harry chuckled, taking out his phone and opening up the camera.

“Yeah, I got you.” You grabbed his phone as Harry and Wynn both smiled and posed. You lowered down the brightness a tad bit, and took multiple pics of them from different angles, even kicking some of the leaves to their feet to add to the fall effect. After you took plenty, you handed his phone back. “Let me know if you’d like me to take more.”

“Wow, these are perfect!” Harry exclaimed as he looked at them. “Are you a photographer?”

“Oh, no. I just really liked taking pictures when I was younger, so I always knew how to take good pictures on an iPhone,” you chuckled, making Harry laugh. Harry proceeded to joke that you should definitely be a photographer but only using a phone, and you teased back saying that you’ll think about it.

Meanwhile as you two were talking, you two didn’t realize Pennie and Wynn playing in the leaves. Wynn was throwing a handful in the air as the leaves rained down onto the two of them. You smiled fondly at the two, and looked at Harry who was snapping some pictures.

After a few moments, you called Pennie. “Alright, c’mon, baby. Let’s finish all these houses,” you reached out for her hand, but she pouted, shaking her head no. “Pennie…”

“No, no! I don’t wanna leave!” Her eyes started tearing up as she frowned.

“Don’t you want to get more candy?” You asked softly. She didn’t respond, rather turn towards Wynn and look at her with a pout.

“Oh, uh, I think she wants Wynn to go with her,” Harry chimed in. “Think she got attached too easily within those ten minutes.” You let out a chuckle, knowing that he was right.

“I’m sorry. Uh, she probably won’t leave your front lawn, but you totally don’t have to come with us, but-”

“Nonsense! We’d love to go! Right, Wynn?” Wynn nodded her head happily as she continued playing with Pennie. “We usually trick or treat later in the evening, but we’d love to go with you now. I’ll just leave the candy out at the front.”

“But wouldn’t the kids just take them all?”

“Hey, that’s fine by me. As long as it’s going somewhere,” Harry shrugged. “Just give me one second to get the rest of the candy, and then we could go.” Harry walked back inside of the house. Wynn stayed with Pennie as you two watched them. You noticed Pennie wasn’t crying anymore, but she was giggling with tear stained cheeks as the older girl twirled her around.

Two minutes later, Harry walked out of his house and locked the door before putting the candy bowl down onto the steps with a sign that said ‘take one, please!’ but he knew that no one was going to follow the sign’s instruction. After that, he turned towards you, smiling. “Shall we go?” You nodded your head as Harry gave Wynn her candy basket.

The four of you walked on the leaf covered sidewalk; Wynn and Pennie were walking together in the front as you and Harry walked together behind them.

“So, what do you do for a living?” You started the conversation.

“I’m a third grade teacher. Have been for six years. What about you?”

“I run a small business, selling jewelry and clothing. That’s all I do right now, and it’s gotten pretty big, so it’s taken care of a lot,” you smiled humbly.

“Wow, that’s amazing. I could definitely see the talent through Pennie’s costume. I’d have to check it out sometime to support.” You smiled at that, giving him the name of your shop.

The two of you continue walking, waiting for your children as they got candy, and getting to know one another.

“Do you live around here?” He asked. “I mean, not in a creepy way,” he chuckled nervously.

You giggled. “Yeah, I live about a block away. We usually walk on the opposite side, but decided to come on this side.”

“Well, I’m glad you decided to come over here,” he said innocently, but it could be taken as flirtatious.

“Me too,” you smiled softly. He smiled back as he thought you were the most beautiful person he’s ever seen that’s not related to him. You had soft eyes that looked at him with care, and a smile that he thought was the most gorgeous; you even had dimples on corners of mouth when you would smile, and he just thought that was the cutest thing.

Obviously, he didn’t know that you were thinking the same thing as him. You felt somewhat intimidated by the tall, attractive, and kind man beside you. And you think his daughter is the cutest. They don’t really look alike, but she probably got her mom’s looks. Speaking of her mother…

“So, the rest of your family didn’t want to come out with you two?” You asked curiously, still waiting for the answer if he was married or taken or not.

“No, it’s actually just Wynn and I…” you hummed, smiling to yourself. “You’re probably wondering where Wynn’s mum is, huh?” He teased, noticing your flusteredness.

“Oh, uh-” you stumbled.

“It’s okay. I’m wondering if you’re taken too,” he said honestly.

You chuckled nervously. “I’m not. Haven’t been since Penelope was born, actually.”

“Do you mind me asking what happened?”

“Only if you tell me what happened with Wynn’s mom,” you teased. “I mean, only if you want to.” Harry nodded, softly smiling.

“Pennie’s dad and I got married three years before she was born. Spare the details, but we got a divorce after she was born because I found out that he had another family…and he chose them over us,” you explained.

“Oh, wow, I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s alright. I’m over it, and it was for the better because I didn’t want Pennie hearing us fight all the time and me yelling and asking where he’s been,” you breathed out a laugh. It seemed like the memory was just yesterday, but it’s been three years.

“That must’ve been hard. Are you happier?”

“Oh, yeah. Definitely. That’s when I launched my business because I couldn’t stay at home and do nothing, so I started to design.”

“That’s amazing!” Harry smiled.

“So, that’s my spooky story for today,” you chuckled, “what’s yours?”

“Wel, uh…”

“Don’t feel obligated to tell me because I told you my story,” you reassured, and he nodded.

“Yeah, I know. But I want to tell you. Have a feeling we’re gonna be around each other a lot more often.” He pointed his eyes at the two girls walking in front of you. You smiled at the two holding hands. “But anyways, Wynn’s mother passed away when she was about two months old.”

You softly gasped. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Harry.”

“As well as her father too.” Your eyes widened as you suddenly stopped walking for a moment. You looked at him skeptically, studying him for a moment. Harry furrowed his brows once you touched his stomach.

“What are you doing?”

“Are you a ghost?” You asked seriously. His words caught you off guard that you actually thought you were imagining Harry the whole time.

“What? No, I’m not,” he laughed. He totally understood why you thought that.

“Okay, good. Thought I was tripping. I mean it is Halloween. Anyways, you were saying?” You gave him your full attention as you two started walking again.

“Wynn’s actual parents passed during an accident. They were on their way back from a little date night. Her father, Alex, was my best friend, and I’m her godfather. So, after they passed, I was her guardian. But when they asked me to be her godfather, they told me the responsibilities and that if anything happened to them, to change Wynn’s last name to my own because they didn’t want her to live on with her life wondering who her real family was. So, I did as they told me. I changed it. And I’ve raised her her whole life, and she’s mine, y’know?” Harry told you, and you listened and nodded.

“Does Wynn know?”

“Yeah, she does. I told her last year because she wondered why she didn’t look like me, and I knew that I couldn’t just lie and hide it from her. She’s a smart girl, so I knew she would understand. She cried for a little bit—had an identity crisis and felt like she couldn’t call me dad anymore, but I told her that if she wanted to or not then I would be okay with it. Thankfully, she still does.” Harry looked at his feet as he walked, kicking the leaves around.

“You’re a great dad, Harry. I’ve known you for about thirty minutes, but I just know you are. Wynn is the sweetest, and you’re doing amazing. But thank you for telling me all that. Know I’m a bit of a stranger,” you slightly laughed.

“Just a tad bit, but I trust you—I feel it.” You smiled at him, nudging him as you walked, to which you earned one back.

You all walked back to Harry’s house, and by the time you got there, Pennie was reaching up towards you, telling you to pick her up. She must’ve been tired from all the walking and jumping with her new mate, so she was getting sleepy.

“I could drive you back, if you’d like?” Harry offered.

“No, it’s okay! Not that far of a walk. Thank you for joining us, though! Pennie and myself really appreciated it and we had fun,” you smiled.

“We did as well. We’ll see you around?” Harry said, and you nodded, waving goodbye.

Harry watched as you two walked away, and he really did have a great time. He felt refreshed and relieved after talking to you, and he doesn’t remember the last time he’s had a decent conversation with someone without turning it into more that same day.

Hopefully he will see you around.

November 1st was your favorite. You started feeling the festive mood as it was getting closer and closer to the holidays.

You and Pennie were out for a walk, and you offered to bring the stroller, but she shook her head, wanting to freely walk in the leaves. Taking the similar route as the night prior, you were hoping to see Harry. You were really infatuated with him, and you thought you two would be great friends, and maybe even more.

Suddenly, Pennie let go of your hand and started running towards the familiar house from last night. She tan quite fast for a toddler, and you would have to ask her if she wanted to join track when she was older.

“Penelope, get back here!” You chased after her, but it was too late when she slapped the door. You caught up to her and carried her. “Baby, please don’t run away from me like that again.” She said a soft ‘I’m sorry’ as you carried her off the walkway.

The door opened, revealing the familiar man. “Y/N? Pennie?”

“I’m sorry! We were going for a walk and she ran away from me and ran here,” you said breathlessly, walking towards the front door again.

Harry chuckled. “You wanna see Wynnie again, Pen?” Pennie’s eyes brightened at the sound of her friend’s name as she nodded. “Come on in!”

“A-Are you sure?” You asked hesitantly.

“Absolutely! We’re just cooking breakfast right now.”

You two walked in slowly as Harry followed behind. You out Pennie down as she stayed close to you. When Harry shut the door, Pennie tugged on his pant leg.

“Yes, sweetheart?” He bent down, giving his attention.

“Can I have another candy?” She asked shyly, and Harry smiled.

“Penelope…” you said.

“What? H-He gives the full size candy bars!” You and Harry laughed loudly.

“We have extra, but only if mummy lets you.” Pennie looked up at you with a pouty face, and of course, you gave in.

“Alright, alright. But you’re only eating it after dinner, and you only get three pieces,” you chuckled. The little girl started jumping up and down happily. Harry looked at the two of you and smiled fondly, loving the dynamic between you two.

Maybe he did like Halloween after all.

happy halloween! come into my inbox and let’s talk <3

#harry styles fluff #dad!harry #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles ff #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles angst #harryween #harry styles one direction #boyfriend!harry #harry #harry styles

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luxekook · 4 years

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stay in your lane | jjk

⇥ pairing: jungkook x reader ⇥ genre: e2l / college au / smut / fluff / crack ⇥ summary: in which the reader is the captain of the women’s swim team and jungkook is the “golden freshman” of the men’s swim team... OR in which jungkook is overtly whipped for the reader and acts out in any way possible to gain her love and attention - no matter the consequence. ⇥ word count: 5.8k ⇥ warnings: 18+, cursing, Vine references, dirty talk, sub!jk, dom!reader, jungkook being the biggest brat, swimming lingo, college athlete party, drinking, body shots, noona kink™, smut (edging/orgasm denial, face sitting, oral [m + f receiving], unprotected sex [wrap it, plz], spitting, cum eating [i am sorry skksks])

In all your twenty-two years of living, you never encountered anyone as openly cocky as Jeon Jungkook. You stared in disbelief as the boy posed and preened from his lane of the pool, throwing his fist in the air and flexing his muscles.

“He is such a hoe for attention,” Your teammate Lina said, shaking her head next to you and reluctantly clapping along with the crowd gathered for the Regional Swimming and Diving Championships.

You nodded in agreement, plastering a fake smile on your face as you forced your hands to clap. As the captain of your college’s women’s swim team, you had to keep up appearances after all. You cheered for everyone - regardless of how infuriating they might be.

When you were appointed as captain this past fall, you were fucking thrilled.

Leadership came naturally to you, and it always felt good when it was recognized by others. For you, being a leader meant being a bad bitch - powerful, fearless, intimidated by no one.

And a bad bitch you were. You liked to quietly dominate in pretty much all facets of your life. You aced your studies, you broke records, you fucked hard.

But this year, your fucking senior year, you were consistently being pressed, your dominance constantly being questioned, your restraint wearing thin.

And it was all Jungkook’s fault.

It all started at the beginning of the swim season... You had been talking to Kim Seokjin - the captain of the men’s team - before the very first practice. You had been glad the fellow senior was chosen, not only because he was a solid swimmer, but because he was supportive and such a laugh.

The two of you had been going over your competition schedules when a boy you hadn’t seen before had bounded up to Seokjin. “Jin-hyung! There you are. I thought I was running late, but it turns out I’m just really early.” You had blinked at the energetic boy who’d been way too excited for the 6 AM hour. He had felt your stare, looked at you, and continued, “Oh, hello. I’m Jungkook! Are you a freshman, too?”

Seokjin had stifled a laugh, and, for his sake, you had hoped it was at this Jungkook’s expense. “No,” You had glared up at him, ignoring his outstretched palm, “I’m a senior and the fucking captain of the women’s team.”

The freshman had turned bright red before smiling at you with renewed vigor, “So, you’re my noona then?”

“I prefer (y/n),” Your teeth had gritted together as your hands fell to your hips.

“Jungkookie…” Seokjin must have seen something on the younger boy’s face and had tried to prevent him from speaking again. It had been no use.

Jungkook had stared down at you with stars in his eyes as he announced, “I think I prefer you, too.”

And it had been precisely at that moment you knew that someday in the near or distant future you would enjoy disciplining that boy. Thoroughly.

Now, as if he felt your attention on him, Jungkook faced the direction where your team was gathered and locked eyes with you. His smile grew infinitesimally larger, and he blew you an exaggerated kiss with a wink. Your jaw clenched. It looked like you were going to need to have yet another talk with Seokjin about teaching Jungkook his fuckboy mannerisms.

Finally, the next event began to be announced, and Jungkook hopped out of the pool. You tried to turn your attention away from him, but you couldn’t. Not when he looked like he had been sculpted by the gods and had drops of water cascading down his tanned skin.

The proclaimed “golden freshman” strutted back towards your team area. His abs moved with each step, his muscled chest heaved for breath, his tight swim suit gripped his thighs and his crotch - basically leaving little to the imagination.

You stared at him with raised eyebrows as he approached, grinning at you and running a hand through his wet hair to slick it back out of his face.

Jungkook stopped in front of you and Lina, dangling his goggles from one long finger and swinging them in your face. “Did you see me win, noona?”

[That little shit.]

You swallowed your instinct to reply with a scathing remark. Instead, you remained cool as ice, just as you always did when Jungkook demanded your attention. It was your foolproof method for dealing with brats. “You know I did, Jeon. I have to watch everyone. That’s what good captains do.”

“Ah, that’s right. Captain noona…” His grin returned as you stared (READ: glared) up at him, “Always cheering me on and watching me win.”

“God, carrying that giant ego around must be exhausting,” Lina cocked her head and frowned at the younger boy.

“Are you talking about my dick?” Jungkook furrowed his eyebrows in mock confusion, “I mean, I guess it is pretty big. Maybe noona could help me carry it...”

You saw red; and, for the first time since meeting him, your perfect control snapped. Rising to your tiptoes, you gripped his neck to lower him enough so your mouth lined up with his ear, “Listen, Jeon. You better watch that pretty little mouth of yours before I tie you up and gag you.”

You pulled back. Jungkook’s eyes were blown wide open, his cheeks stained pink, his ears bright red. “N-noona!”

Lina was cackling next to you over how flustered you made the typically overconfident boy. You allowed yourself a brief cheeky smile at your friend before returning to a straight face. You needed to go get ready for your next race.

You had been trying all season to break your personal best time in the 100 meter butterfly, and you had a good feeling that you might just accomplish that today.

“I’m going to go warm-up,” You told Lina, grabbing your swim cap and goggles from your bag.

“Good luck, (y/n)!” Lina slapped you a high-five, “You got this. You are a legend. A queen!”

“A goddess!” Jungkook chimed in, peering at you from over Lina’s shoulder with heart eyes.

“Kook,” Seokjin swooped in and tugged the boy away from you, “Not the time. (Y/n) needs to focus! Good luck, babe!”

You gave the other captain a thumbs-up and headed down onto the pool deck. Faintly from the stands behind you, you heard Jungkook whining on about how Seokjin was allowed to call you ‘babe’ but he wasn’t.

Pushing that aside, you hopped into the designated warm-up/cool-down pool that was adjacent to the competition pool and proceeded to loosen up before your race.

Visualize the victory.

Take down the competition.

Leave nothing behind.

Fifteen minutes later, you found yourself hovering over the starting block, awaiting the starter. The natatorium was silent. You sucked in a breath and dove into the pool at the sound of the starting buzz.

Your body felt like it was on autopilot. Kick, kick, pull. Kick, kick, pull. Each time you took a breathe you could hear a split second of the roaring crowd. You pushed yourself faster.

Two laps turned into three as you sprinted. You didn’t dare check on your competition; those would be precious milliseconds wasted. And, as you swam your final lap, you didn’t even dare to breathe, swimming your hardest right until you hit the wall.

Gasping, you clutched the wall and swung around to look at your time.

00:51.34

Your best fucking time.

You felt like crying, laughing, and screaming all at once. As you shook hands with the girls to your right and left, you smiled hugely up at your cheering teammates. They had known how much you wanted this - needed this.

The next race began to be announced, and you hauled your tired self out of the pool. Immediately, you were swept into a tight hug by your coach followed by what felt like your whole entire team. Your cheeks honestly hurt from smiling so hard.

As you thanked your last teammate, you felt a tap on your shoulder.

“Noona?”

You had never heard Jungkook sound so tiny; and, when you turned around, you didn’t stop him from hugging you.

“You did so good,” He mumbled, head burrowed into your wet hair. “My noona is so fucking good.”

You melted at his words. It had been so long since someone had called you ‘theirs’. And, so, you blamed your post-adrenaline spike exhaustion for your following actions.

Your arms slid around him, tugging him closer. You felt every ridge of his hard body - separated only by the thin swimsuits you each wore. Your nipples brushed his chest, and you honestly didn’t know if the moan that followed was from you or from Jungkook.

You whispered, “Thank you, Jungkook.” Calling him by his first name was a rarity for you, and the muffled hum from the boy wrapped around you let you know it was well received.

And, when you pulled away from him, you made sure to run your hands over his chest along the way.

[That one had been on your bucket list, okay?]

Still so close to you, Jungkook stared at you with an unreadable expression. “Noona, are you coming over tonight?”

The men’s team always hosted the post-meet party at their house, and that was fine with you and your team. It meant no mess and lots of free alcohol.

“Yeah,” You pulled your wet hair over your shoulder, “I’ll be there. Post-Regionals is always so fun.”

“Well,” Jungkook puffed out his chest, “This year will be even more fun since I’ll be there!”

Ah, there he was - Cocky Jungkook™.

“You promise?” You smirked, tossing you hair over your shoulder as you moved past him, “After all, this is the only one you’ll get with me, Jeon.”

You didn’t look back at him as you made your way back to your team area.

But, if you had, you would have seen him staring intently at you with determination.

The challenge you had half-knowingly thrown down had been accepted.

Hours later, you and your teammates were decidedly tipsy from pre-gaming.

“Okay, we should get going,” You said, checking your phone, “Jin said - and I quote - the boys are going to start rioting if we don’t get our sweet asses over there.”

“I bet he’s talking about Jungkook,” One of your teammates giggled, “That kid’s been trying to get with (y/n) this whole year.”

“That’s so true,” Lina threw her arm over your shoulder, “You might as well just fuck him and put us all out of our misery. We know you want to.”

You scoffed, pushing her arm off of you, “I will not be fucking anyone.”

“That’s what you said last year,” Lina fired back.

“Wait, what happened last year?” One of the freshman whispered.

You sighed, “Two words. Lim Jaebeom.”

A collective hum of appreciation and understanding rose from the group at the mention of the now-graduated swimmer.

Your phone buzzed with an incoming call. You rolled your eyes, answering it. “Seokjin, for the love of god, we’re coming!”

“(Y/n)!” Seokjin yelled at you through the cries of what sounded like an angry mob, “My death will be on your hands if you don’t show up within the next minute!”

“You’re so fucking dramatic, Kim,” You hung up on him. Every fucking year the men’s team did this. You swore they couldn’t entertain themselves without you and your team.

“Come on,” You marched to the door, “Time to go ruin some boys.” With that, the lot of you walked across the street to the men’s team’s house.

[Yes, they literally lived right across the street. Seokjin was the king of drama.]

Not even bothering to knock, you swung open the door.

“What the fuck is up, Kyle!” Lina announced your presence for you as she hurried past, “Your better halves have arrived.”

“Oh, thank god!” Seokjin appeared by your side, clutching his chest, “My life is saved at last.”

You playfully shoved him, “Shut up, Kim. Now, where are the drinks?”

“Allow me to guide you to them, my queen,” Seokjin grabbed your hand and tugged you over towards the crowded kitchen.

You let him lead you, greeting members of the men’s team as you passed by them. Your pesky little freshman was nowhere in sight.

“Captains coming through!” Jin screeched, “Part the seas!”

You shook your head in disbelief at his antics, laughing as people actually seemed to be listening to the chaotic boy.

“See what authority we have when we’re together, babe? We could totally be a power couple,” Jin grinned at you as you finally arrived by the drinks scattered across the kitchen counter.

You weren’t going to lie, Seokjin was hot. You knew it. He knew it. The pope knew it.

But, you had done the whole alpha male thing. It was fun, but just not for you. No, you wanted someone a bit more submissive. Someone who you could gently break and build back up again. Someone like—

“Jungkook!” Jin cried, almost bursting your eardrum, “Come take a shot with your captains!”

Busying yourself with pouring shots for the three of you, you felt Jungkook arrive before you saw him. The warmth of his body seeped into you as he appeared by your side.

“Hi, noona,” He greeted you, his arm nudging yours. You turned, taking in his ripped jeans and loose black shirt before meeting his eyes.

“Hi, Jeon,” You shot him a small smile. He looked really fucking good tonight. His hair was long and messy, like he had been running his hands through it constantly. His cheeks were flushed, and you wondered how much he had to drink before you arrived.

“Yes, yes, you have now exchanged greetings. Let’s move on,” Seokjin grabbed one of the shots you poured and hoisted it into the air, “To the best captains you’ve ever had!”

You threw your head back and laughed as you played along, lifting your glass in the air beside Jin. You felt Jungkook looking at you as if he’d never seen you act so carefree. And maybe he hadn’t.

The room echoed Seokjin’s declaration, and you took the shot, feeling the tequila burn down your throat as you locked eyes with Jungkook yet again. Heat settled deep in your stomach that you fucking knew was not from the alcohol you just consumed.

Jungkook’s lips were wet from the tequila, and your tongue subconsciously darted out to lick your own. His eyes latched onto the movement before looking back at you under heavy lids. “Noona…” The honorific came out like a plea, but you didn’t even think he knew what he was asking for.

“(Y/n)!” One of your teammates called to you from across the room, “Play King’s Cup with us!” You shot her a thumbs up. Fixing yourself a drink, you gave the now pouting Jungkook a lazy smile, “Talk to you later?”

You squeezed his arm briefly; and, as you sauntered away, you felt his eyes glued to your ass. And, naturally, you made sure to put a nice swing into it. God, were you actually going to do this? Were you actually considering fucking him tonight?

[Yes.]

You cursed Lina for putting the idea into the front of your mind. You cursed yourself for having that very same idea since the very second you met him. And you cursed the boy himself for being so outwardly arrogant but so sinfully submissive.

[Or at least you hoped he was a sub. God, how you hoped.]

You greeted the group gathered around the coffee table for King’s Cup and plopped yourself down between Park Jimin and Lina. Jimin smiled at you, his eyes crinkling and his cheeks pink. “Hi, (y/n)! I’m surprised Jungkook let you leave his side.”

Your eyebrows flew up, “And what makes you think I let Jungkook dictate my actions?”

Jimin gulped, eyes searching around the group for assistance and coming up empty handed. No one wanted to deal with your wrath. “I- I thought you were getting together?”

Lina let out a low whistle, “Jimin, you’re just a little too early, my dude. (Y/n), give the poor kid a break. Let’s play some King’s!”

Jimin let out a sigh of relief as the matter was dropped. “Sorry, (y/n). Geez, you’re scary when you’re mad, but also kind of hot.”

His admission cracked you up, and you pinched his blushing cheek, “Jimin, you’re too cute. Don’t even worry about it.”

Two boys turned bright red at your actions: Jimin from embarrassment and Jungkook from jealousy.

You didn’t even know how many rounds of the game you played before someone suggested playing something else. You had a pretty nice buzz going, leaning on Jimin’s arm and laughing at a joke Lina told.

“I’ve got it!” Kim Taehyung snapped his fingers, grinning manically, “Body shots!”

Chaos ensued. It seemed half the group was down, and half the group was against it.

You knew Lina had the fattest crush on Tae, and so you reluctantly joined the side in agreement. She shot you a grateful look.

“Let’s fucking do it,” You got to your feet, “Jin, do you have salt and limes?”

“What kind of host do you think I am?” He cried, running over to the kitchen and pulling random ingredients off of shelves. “We have salt, limes, chocolate syrup, whipped cream, cherries, sugar, orange juice, pickle juice, pepper—”

“I’m gonna stop you right there,” You slapped a hand over his mouth, “Tequila, salt, and limes should be okay. God, were you really just about to offer pepper? As in the fucking spice?”

“Yes,” His muffled response came from behind your hand.

“You’re something else, Kim Seokjin,” You muttered before turning back to the group. “Alright, who’s going first?”

“We wrote everyone’s names down, and we’re going to take turns picking,” Lina said, thrusting a hat in your direction that was full of slips of paper.

“No one else wants to go first?” You looked around the room suspiciously and then shrugged, “Alright, fine.”

You dipped your hand into the pile of papers and selected one. Opening it, your breath escaped you in a whoosh, “Jeon Jungkook.”

The room erupted into cheers.

“Fuck yeah! Get it, Jeon!”

“Oh, this is going to be hot!”

“Yas queen! That’s my mom right there!”

You threw the slip of paper at Lina as she screamed that last remark at you.

Searching the room for Jungkook, you found him lounging by the empty couch against the far wall waiting for you with a shit-eating grin. Did the boy think he was going to be taking the shot off of you?

[Oh, how foolish.]

You approached him, grabbing the bottle of tequila, a shot glass, the salt, and a slice of lime from Jin on your way over. Jungkook opened his mouth to say something, but you didn’t allow him the chance, “Shirt off, Jeon.”

Whistles broke out as Jungkook froze, looking confused for a second, and then he tugged his shirt over his head. You praised your decision-making skills. His body deserved to be worshipped with your tongue. It was only right and just.

“Now what, noona?” The boy grinned, crossing his arms across his chest. A move you knew he only did because it made his biceps flex.

“Lay down,” You tilted your head, indicating he should get down on the couch, “And shut up.”

Jungkook’s eyes heated at your words. He obeyed, laying down just like you asked. However, he brought his arms up and clasped his hands behind his head. The fucking brat knew what he was doing.

You would punish him accordingly.

Your finger brushed over his lips before pushing the slice of lime between them. “Hold that for me, would you?” You murmured, hitching one leg over his body and settling firmly on his lap.

Assessing where to put the shot, you decided—fuck it—and placed it right between his legs.

Vaguely, you heard the people surrounding you yelling and screaming, but you were only focused on Jungkook and how round his eyes were as they stared at your hand holding the shot glass steady, dangerously close to his crotch.

Suppressing a smile, you poured a trail of salt down the middle of his abs. Finally unleashing your evil grin, you lean close to him with your hair blocking your face from the audience, “You ready, baby boy?”

He nodded furiously.

You flicked your hair over your shoulder and slowly lowered yourself over his stomach. Keeping your eyes on his, you swiped your tongue teasingly over your bottom lip. Jungkook’s chest was heaving, his abs were tensing, his eyes were hooded.

You licked slowly down his stomach, tasting the salt and him all at once. His skin was burning under your tongue as you delved into each groove of his abs, making sure no salt was left behind. Satisfied you had gotten all of it, you shifted lower still, ghosting over the now growing bulge in his jeans to hover over the shot.

Wrapping your lips around the glass, you tilted your head back as you straightened into a sitting position. The liquid coursed down your throat, but you barely felt the burn this time. You moved up, settling right on his hardening cock, and sucked the lime from his mouth.

Jungkook let out a breathy moan as you threw the lime’s peel somewhere over your shoulder, ignoring the indignant cry in response from Jin.

You kissed him, his lips sticky with lime juice and oh so delicious. His hands finally moved from behind his head to grip your hips. You didn’t even realize you were grinding into him until his hands tried to hold you still.

[Sorry, not sorry.]

Sucking his bottom lip into your mouth, you tugged on it before releasing it to place another soft kiss on his mouth.

“Okay, okay,” Seokjin’s loud voice broke through your daze, “No fornicating on my couch, please!”

“So, if we were married, we could fuck on it? Is that what you’re saying?” You pulled away from Jungkook’s mouth and laughed at Jin’s gobsmacked expression.

“Yah, so disrespectful!” He yanked you off of Jungkook and set you on your feet, “Okay, who’s next? Tae and Lina? Me and Jiminie?”

You shook your head at your fellow captain and turned back to Jungkook; but, you found the couch empty. Whipping around to look for him, you noticed one of your teammates gesturing towards the stairs. You shot them a thankful glance and darted in the direction the boy apparently disappeared in.

“Jeon?” You called as you reached the top of the staircase. Failing to hear a response, you moved down the hallway. Your eyes and ears strained for any sign of him.

Finally, your gaze focused on the closed door at the far end of the hall. A soft light emitted from the bottom of it; and, as you crept closer, you heard Jungkook cursing on the other side of it.

You knocked once. “Jeon? What are you do—” Your words died in your throat as you threw open the door and laid eyes on a very naked and very turned on Jungkook.

“Noona, I can explain!” He jumped out of his bed, fumbling around for his pants.

You calmly shut the door and locked it behind you.

“Shh, baby,” You whispered, crossing the room and stopping in front of him. “You don’t have to explain. It made you hard, didn’t it? Having me on top of you, licking your skin, kissing your lips… You just couldn’t help yourself, hmm?”

Jungkook’s throat bobbed, “Y-yes. I’m so hard it hurts. Noona, please touch me.”

“I can see that,” You glanced down at his cock. It was admittedly big, and it reminded you of what he had said earlier about you holding it for him. “Jungkook, I want to make you feel good, but you’ve been such a brat to me this whole year. Why should I?”

You turned and began to walk to the door. As predicted, Jungkook rushed around you to block the exit, “Please, (Y/n)! I’ll be good, I promise. I’ll stop bugging you. I’ll return the swim cap I stole from your bag...”

[That was him? You looked for that cap for weeks!]

He continued, “I’ll stop trying to get your attention! I’ll—”

You grabbed his cock - a truly effective method to shut him up. “You’ll be good for me, baby?” Your thumb brushed across his slit, collecting the drop of precum gathered there. Bringing your thumb to your mouth, you licked the droplet off, savoring the salty taste.

He let out a strangled groan as you did so. “Fuck yes, I’ll be good for you. I’ll be your good boy.”

“You know,” Your hand returned to stroke his cock slowly, before dropping it, “I don’t think I believe you.”

“No!” Jungkook looked close to tears as he tried to bring your hand back, “Please, I’ll do anything!”

“Anything?” You sunk to your knees before him, “You’ll do anything, Kookie?”

He shuddered, “Yeah, I’m yours. I’ll do anything as long as you ask me.”

“Really?” You cooed, running your fingers up his toned calves and quads, “I like that the sound of that, baby. Okay, fine. But you can’t come until I say so, got it?”

After seeing him nod vigorously, you spit on the head of his cock and use your hand to spread the combination of spit and precum around.

“Fuck,” Jungkook hissed, leaning against the door, “Noona is so dirty.”

“Oh, baby,” You grinned, “You have no idea.”

And, with that, you took the head of his cock into your mouth and sucked.

Jungkook let out a choked groan, his fingers sliding into your hair.

You took him as far as you could and then swallowed around him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck-” He chanted above you. You glanced up at him and hummed in amusement at his fucked out expression, and the stimulation from your humming only made him squeeze his eyes shut tighter.

You released him with a pop. “Jungkook, look at me when I suck your cock.”

“Y-yes, noona,” The boy blinked his eyes open and angled his head down to meet your eyes.

“Good boy,” You nodded and then licked up the underside of his cock before taking him back into your mouth.

You blew him hard, stroking the parts of his cock you couldn’t fit entirely in your mouth. Your mouth bobbed, your hands grabbed his ass, your tongue swiped over him.

“Please, please, noona, I’m so close,” he begged, looking down at you with wide eyes and a pleading expression, “Please let me come, (y/n)!”

You glared up at him, releasing him once again, “No.”

“What? Why?” Jungkook gasped above me, his breath coming in pants, “Please, can I come in your mouth?”

“No,” You repeated, your hand stroking him loosely. He whined, his hips straining to try to get you to grip him tighter.

You dropped your hold and stood, heading over to his bed.

“Nooo! Noona!” The brat moaned from behind you. You glanced back and scowled as you saw him clutching his cock in his hands.

“Jungkook, if you don’t get your hands off your cock in the next second, I won’t let you touch me.”

He dropped his cock like a hot potato. “I can touch you?” His eyes shone at the possibility.

You rolled your eyes and tugged your t-shirt dress over your head.

“Damn, noona, you’re so sexy,” Jungkook reached out to grab your waist but you smacked his hand away.

“Lay down on the bed, Kook,” You ordered, unclasping your bra and shimmying out of your thong, “I’m going to ride your face, and you’re going to make me come.”

“Hell yeah,” The idiot launched himself onto the bed and flipped over onto his back, “I’ve been waiting for this moment my whole life.”

You pinched his nipple and he yelped. “You’re such a dweeb,” You sighed, getting into position on top of him. He grinned up at you from in between your thighs.

“I think I’m in heaven,” He said, flicking his eyes across your body and staring hungrily at your pussy.

“Hm,” You shrugged and lowered yourself down just out of reach of his tongue, “I don’t know about that, but I do know that if you make me come hard enough, I’ll reward you.”

With that, you sunk down onto his face. His tongue immediately delved into you, flicking and lathering between your folds. His hands flew up to grip your ass, pushing you harder down onto his face.

[Fuck, you had never been more thankful for swimming and its conditioning. Amazing breath control? Check. Incredible stamina? Double check.]

You arched your back as Jungkook circled your aching clit. “That’s it, baby,” You moaned, reaching down to roll your hardened nipples between your fingers, “You’re doing so well. You’re making me feel so good.”

His pace quickened at the sound of your praises, his tongue thrust inside you, his nose rubbed at your clit. You felt the pleasure building and building. “Yes, Jungkook, don’t stop,” You looked down at him and his eyes were so dilated. He was looking back at you like you were the only thing that mattered to him.

And it was that look that pushed you over the edge. You came with a scream, your legs giving out from under you and your full weight falling on Jungkook. The boy took it, tongue unceasing in its movements, lapping up every last drop you have him.

As you rode out the last of your orgasm, you lifted yourself off of Jungkook and stood.

“I’m sorry, noona,” Jungkook said, breathing hard.

“What for, baby?” Your cocked your head, confused as to what he could possibly be sorry for after making you come so hard.

The poor boy blushed furiously. You glanced over him and quickly realized the problem.

“You came on yourself?” You murmured, stroking your hand through his hair as he gazed up at you regretfully.

He nodded, lower lip jutting out in a cute pout.

“You know,” You said, rounding the bed and settling in between his legs. “Usually I would punish you for this, but I think it’s really fucking hot that you came just from eating me out, baby. I’m just sad you didn’t come in my mouth or my pussy.”

You swiped your finger across the cum gathered on across his abs and sucked it into your mouth.

“I can still come inside you, noona!” Jungkook rocketed up into a sitting position, “Look, I’m already hard again! That’s the effect you have on me!”

You looked down and, sure enough, he was right.

“What a lovely surprise,” You murmured, “Now, should I let you have my mouth or my pussy?”

“I would die for your pussy, noona,” Jungkook said gravely.

“Always so dramatic…” You pushed him back down and lined his cock up with your pussy.

He bit his lip, watching entranced as you pushed the very tip of his cock inside you. A choked breath burst out of Jungkook as you sunk down lower.

“Noona, you’re so fucking tight. You feel so fucking good,” His hands clenched on your thighs as you took him to the hilt and rolled your hips. Damn, he filled you up so nicely. Your walls clenched tightly around him, every shift of your hips brought delicious friction.

“Move, noona, please,” He begged, “Fuck me.”

You lifted yourself up and sunk back down, reveling in the moan he let out in response.

“Play with my nipples, Kook,” You panted, beginning to ride him hard.

Jungkook grabbed your ass and shifted backwards. Sitting with his back against the headboard, his mouth descended onto one of your nipples.

“Oh, yes, that’s it, baby,” You moaned, grinding down onto him as he bit down lightly.

“You’re so fucking hot, noona,” Jungkook groaned, “And your pussy feels so fucking good. I always knew it would though…”

You gripped his hair and tugged hard, “Don’t make me follow through with my gag idea.”

You felt his cock twitch, “Oh, but you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“No,” He lied.

You brought two fingers to his mouth, “Suck.”

His eyes widened at your command, but his mouth opened obediently. You shoved your fingers inside. Quickening your pace, you bounced on his cock as he sucked on your fingers, moaning around them. You brought your other hand down to play with your clit as you felt your second orgasm rising.

“Are you going to come, Kook?” You panted, clenching down around him, “Are you going to fill me up? Are you going to paint my walls with your cum?”

He nodded furiously, still lapping at your fingers. His hips bucked up into yours, and you clenched down one last time before pinching your clit.

The onset of your climax set off Jungkook’s as he came hard. You tugged your fingers out of his mouth as the boy cursed and cried your name over and over.

The warmth of him filling you up felt so fucking good. “You’re such a good boy, baby. You’re my good boy.”

“Your good boy,” He smiled with his eyes still shut, “I’m noona’s good boy.”

Suddenly his eyes shot open and he frowned, “But for how long?”

“What, baby?” You shifted off of him to lay down at his side.

“How long am I going to be your baby?” His pout from earlier had returned with epic proportions, “Don’t think I didn’t see you earlier getting close with Jimin-hyung downstairs. And I know you let Jin-hyung call you ‘babe’! And—”

You cut him off by pressing your lips to his. “Shut up, you idiot,” You said, lips brushing over his, “You’re mine for as long as you want me and for as long as I want you.”

His pout remained, “But what if Jaebeom-hyung comes back?”

“How do you even— I’m going to kill Jin,” You growled before bringing your hand up to brush over Jungkook’s cheek. “Jungkook, listen to me. Yes, you’ve been a nuisance this whole season, but I always knew you did it because you liked me.”

You grinned at his blush and continued, “Well, guess what? I like you, too. God only knows why. You’re cocky and brash and loud and—mmmf!”

Jungkook flipped you over and attacked your mouth with kisses. “Noona, you like me?”

“Yes,” You groaned, shifting your face to try to avoid some of his affection, “I like you, you big brute of a baby.”

“Oh, this is so exciting! I’m going to have to plan the most perfect first date. Oh my god, we are totally going be that Swim Power Couple™. Holy shit, wait! Just think about how good our kids are going to be! We’re going to make a whole team of Olympians, noona!”

“Jeon Jungkook!” You screamed, “Kids?! Good god, what am I going to do with you?”

He smiled down at you and kissed your cheek, “Keep me forever, I hope, noona.”

You smiled back at him softly, “I think I just might…”

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phykios · 3 years

Text

honesty and promise me, co-written with @darkmagyk [read on ao3]

Update: Annabeth has not done what needs to be done.

August moves over into September, hot and sweltering days giving way to the first few hints of the coming autumn chill. One unseasonably cold night, Annabeth had gone to bed wrapped in one of Percy’s old Paris Opera sweaters, waking up with it and wearing it home to ward off the chill of the morning drizzle, like some a normal girlfriend would.

It’s a problem, she knows, but she just cannot quit this man.

And boy did she try, about a hundred different times.

One time, she spent an entire Tuesday before seeing him googling around until she found a picture. It was three years old, and it showed Mittie--oh, sorry, Her Royal Highness Margherita--at a soccer game in Moscow. Next to her is the handsomest man in the world. Percy’s hair is shorter, and something about his windbreaker reminds her of some of the crew boys she knew at Harvard. They aren’t touching, but they are both smiling. This is the kind of girl Percy deserves. This is the kind of girl he should want. His type. She reminds herself of it for hours before meeting him at a show. But the smile he gives her is nothing like the one in the pictures with the princess. And when he whispers what he wants to do to her that evening, she just can’t do it.

She even took him to his favorite pizza place once to soften the blow. But then she thought about how her dumping him would forever taint the magic of Antonio’s for the both of them, and she just couldn’t abide that.

So she kept putting it off. And putting it off. And putting it off.

And then he asked her to dinner with his parents again, on his one night off in three weeks.

“You’re sure you don’t want me to bring you something?” he asks for the fourth time, concern making his connection thin and tinny.

“It’s just a little stomach thing,” she lies, shaking out a ramen flavor packet. “I’ll be fine. You go have fun with your mom.”

“Okay. I’ll call later to check up on you.”

She rolls her eyes. “I’m just going to be asleep.”

“Talk to you later.”

“Yeah.”

He clicks off. Her apartment is very quiet. For lack of anything else to do, she decides to check her mail.

Who even mails anything anymore, she thinks.

Rifling through the pile of wasted paper, she sighs at the banality of it all. Junk, junk, junk, NYCB brochure she needs to cancel, junk… Harvard?

She peers at it.

The red seal is unmistakable, as is her name, printed in neat, black ink. “Ms. Annabeth Chase.” Why are they contacting her? And more importantly, who the fuck gave them her address?

Hands shaking, she unfolds it. “Dear Ms. Chase,” it reads, “Thank you for your generous contribution to the Harvard Graduate School of Design. As one of our most promising graduates, we are so pleased and thrilled to receive your encouragement. With your gift, we were able to reach our fundraising goal of $2.5million, which will go to support the various operations of the school, so that we can continue to provide a top-notch education for your fellow students. You do make a difference for us, and we are immensely thankful for you!” And then it goes on. “As a thank you for your generous gift of $15,000, we would like to invite you to the Alistair Moore dinner for distinguished graduates and faculty. We would be delighted to receive you at...”

She can’t finish, dyslexia scrambling the words in front of her. Or maybe that’s just her, trembling so hard she has to sit down. Fifteen thousand. The Alistair Moore dinner. She knows it well, yet another fancy networking event, like the Eta Industries party. Bile rises in her throat. Who would…

The answer hits her like a freight train. Only one person would be so bold.

Crumpling the letter in her fist, she pulls out her phone, dialing the number she still stubbornly has memorized, despite deleting it off her contacts list.

She isn’t sure if she’s upset that she gets his voicemail, or relieved. “Hey, dad. It’s me,” she says, grimacing as she starts off like he wouldn’t recognize her voice. Like it’s any other phone call. “I got your message. The Alistair Moore dinner? I’m not going. I told you, I don’t want your help. I don’t need your help. What I need,” she sneers, “is for you to butt out and leave me the hell alone.”

Then she hangs up, before she can chicken out and delete it.

She shoves the letter into her recycling bin, down to the very bottom. Out of sight and out of mind.

Well, her night is pretty much ruined.

Ramen growing colder, she lies on her couch, her head hanging over the edge, studiously not looking at her phone. She shouldn’t have left that message. She shouldn’t have opened that letter. She shouldn’t have rebuffed Percy’s invitation. Or maybe she was right, in all those situations. Who the fuck knows. Who the fuck cares. Her leg bounces, frantic, stomach roiling.

Like a gunshot, her phone vibrates on her coffee table. Annabeth catapults herself up, reaching for it, nearly dropping it, even as her eyes begin to blur. Please let it be her dad. Please let it be anyone else but her dad. Please. Please. Please.

checking in, writes Percy. feeling any better?

With a sob, she hits call. He picks up after the second ring.

“Hey,” he says, softly. “Everything okay?”

“Can,” she hiccups. God damn it. God damn her. “Can you please come over?”

She can feel his demeanor change over the phone. “I’ll be right there,” he says, calm and collected. “What’s your address?”

Her address is supposed to be a secret. No one is supposed to know where she lives. She doesn’t even like Luke knowing where she lives, and he might be the closest thing she has to family right now. But she tells Percy, and he promises to be there within thirty minutes. Throwing her arms over her face, she lies back down, breathing through her nose so she doesn’t vomit.

He makes it in twenty. here is the simple text, devoid of any hearts or emojis, and she buzzes him up. Less than a minute later, he knocks on her door. “It’s open,” she calls, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes.

Softly, the door clicks open, someone smoothly and quietly stepping inside. “Annabeth?”

“Here,” she moans. She should get up to greet him. She can’t feel her legs. She can’t feel anything at all.

The couch dips as someone sits next to her, a warm, large hand on her shoulder, and she can’t help but open her eyes. Percy is there in his blue sweater that she returned the last time she had slept over at Nico’s apartment, his brow furrowed in worry, but he’s smiling a little, too, just happy to see her, to see that she’s safe. In his other hand, he holds up a plastic bag. “I brought you a cookie,” he says, gently. “Chocolate chip.”

Annabeth blinks. “It’s… blue.”

He nods. “It is.”

Blue cookies. His mom’s special recipe, he had told her, for bad days of aching feet, harsh dance instructors, and school bullies.

The dam breaks.

She launches herself into Percy’s embrace, sobbing. He tucks her head into his neck, his arms coming up around her. “It’s okay,” he murmurs. “It’s okay.”

“I’m--I’m so sorry,” she gets out, in between heaving breaths. “I just--I didn’t want to be alone and--”

He shakes his head against hers, his nose in her hair. “I’m here. It’s okay.”

They sit there for a long, long time, him holding her as she cries, pathetic. She can only imagine what it must be like from Percy’s end: here he was, having a lovely dinner with his mother uptown on his night off, only to get a frantic call from his hookup, demanding that he drop everything and rush to her side. And he did. He even fucking brought her one of his mom’s special cookies.

She does not deserve this perfect, amazing man.

It’s that thought more than anything else that pulls her out of her spiral, her sobs abating somewhat. “There we go,” he says, sweetly. “I’m going to get you some water, okay? Be right back.”

Resisting the urge to hold onto his sleeve like some kind of child, she lets him pull away, stepping into her kitchen. Head aching and eyes puffy, she can’t even really register the fact that he is in her apartment right now. Her secret hideaway. Her sanctum sanctorum. He can see her tasteful couches and her expensive coffee maker and her giant TV screen.

But honestly? She doesn’t care about any of that right now. All she cares about is the long, solid line of Percy’s body next to hers as he sits back down next to her, handing her a glass of water. She drinks it down, greedily, falling back against him, his hand automatically coming up to her shoulder, and she turns into his side, drinking him in, just as desperate.

They don’t speak, just holding onto each other.

As she drifts off, there on her couch, her arm around Percy’s midsection, she only has one real thought in her head.

Forget the apartment--this is her sanctum sanctorum. This is her safe space.

***

Annabeth wakes up in a bed that isn’t her own, in an apartment that isn’t her own.

It reminds her, weirdly enough of her mom’s apartment, she thinks as she sits up in the soft, cream sheets, here in New York. She had only ever been a handful of times, whenever her mother deigned to claim her for their allotted family time. She doesn’t remember much about that place--mostly the skyline through the window, the low, uncomfortable furniture, the spotless, empty kitchen.

Across from the bed is a mirror, squat and wide. Annabeth has her hair back, her face devoid of metal. She looks tired, she thinks, and maybe a little older, dark, heavy bags beneath her eyes. She’s wearing a real, actual set of pajamas, rather than a sweater or an oversized shirt, pale pink silk tight around her body.

Shaking her head, she looks down, and spies a thin band of gold on her left hand, which rests on her stomach, sporting a slight, but noticeable curve.

Only then does she realize it’s a dream. She lets out a grateful sigh. Just a dream.

It seems like a pretty boring one, too. She’s older, a little fatter, and has a nicer apartment. Somewhere in the distance is the indistinct sound of a person singing. And beyond that the even more indistinct sound of the city.

Stumbling out of bed, her feet falling into a pair of soft, pink slippers, perfectly positioned next to her bed, she makes her way out into the apartment. The walls are cream, decorated with generic seaside landscapes, a nondescript sailboat in the background against an unchanging, cornflower blue sky.

The kitchen is empty. Breakfast is cooked, laid out on a placemat at the kitchen island, but no one is there eating it. No one is there cleaning up, or making coffee. The food looks delicious, like a magazine spread: a perfectly made bowl of granola and yogurt, a lemon poppyseed muffin, a glass of orange juice on the side. Nutritious. Small.

It’s weird. It’s really weird.

Moving on, she enters the living room. There’s a little girl on her knees, maybe three or four, she’s wearing a red pinafore over a white polo shirt and Mary Janes shined like the top of the Chrysler building. The preschool version of a prep-school uniform. She’s hunched over the glass coffee table, frizzy blonde curls bouncing as she moves her hand back and forth, scribbling with a colored pencil on a piece of paper.

All of a sudden, she notices Annabeth standing there.

“Mommy!” She jumps up, holding the pencil behind her back, her green eyes wide with apprehension. “I--I was--”

She hears whistling, and turns to see… well, it's Percy, but he looks nothing like her Percy. His hair is cropped shorter, parted and moussed perfectly flat. He’s in a three piece suit. He’s in trousers. Not a pair of sweatpants or a muscle tee in sight.

He stops when he sees her. “Sorry, didn’t know you were awake, wouldn’t have been singing.” Which makes no sense, Because Annabeth loves Percy’s ambient music. He looks around her, speaking to his--to the girl, “I told you you’d have to stop when mommy got up.”

Annabeth glances at the little girl, who nods too solemnly.

“Don’t worry,” this stranger wearing Percy’s face says, “She’s ready for school. She is ready for her Math qualification. I only said she could draw for a little, to calm herself down.” He glances at the girl again. “Put your things back in the art box, and we’ll go to school. I have an 8:30 meeting with the board.”

The little girl runs off. Holding her paper and her pencils close to her chest, like she’s afraid someone is going to take them away from her. Maybe someone is.

Percy turns to her. “I confirmed our reservations at 7 tonight at Sarabeth’s with your mother’s assistant this morning. And the nanny is going to stay late, so we don’t have to bring her.”

The her in question reappears just then. She’s so small. And she’s carrying a backpack. She looks like that breakfast, out of a magazine. But normally kids in magazines smile.

“Are you ready?” Annabeth’s voice finally says.

A beat, then she nods again. “Yes, mommy.”

“Good,” she says. Outside, the sunlight through the windows isn’t so bright anymore, but dark and cold, like a solar eclipse. “Make me proud.”

And she turns to go back to bed, but the floor has disappeared, and she steps on nothing, tumbling down into the void.

With a start, she wakes up again in her bed, to the smell of breakfast in the air. Which is confusing, because she’s pretty sure she fell asleep on the couch, and she usually doesn’t wake up in time for breakfast, let alone actually make it herself: she has Percy for that, now.

Right. Percy.

It comes back to her in flashes: the donation, the voicemail, calling Percy out of desperation. Inviting him into her room, her bed. Falling asleep in his arms.

She physically shakes her head, roughly scrubbing her face, forcing herself further into consciousness. The light coming through her window is grey and weak, doing absolutely nothing to help her out. The morning feels muted, for some reason, like it’s very far away. Maybe it was her nightmare.

She can’t hear Percy, Annabeth realizes. That’s what’s wrong. She can smell breakfast, but she can’t hear him puttering away. She doesn’t hear the clanking of pans as he tries to be quiet, or his off-key humming, or the dull thump of footfalls on her floor as he practices his steps.

God, how late did she sleep? If he has to leave for a morning class he usually makes sure to wake her up, first. For a kiss if nothing else.

But when she pads out to her kitchen, she’s stunned to find Percy still there, sitting at her warped kitchen table. There are two plates in front of him, eggs and bacon untouched and cooling. He’s fully dressed, too, in his dark jeans and stupid dance pun t-shirt: “Girls Just Wanna Have Buns,” his sweater on the empty chair. Annabeth had been weirdly looking forward to wearing that this morning; he likes seeing her in his clothes, and she likes seeing him without them. It’s a system that works for them, typically leading to a lot of smiles, a couple giggles, and maybe another round or two before he has to leave.

He’s not smiling now. His gaze is fixed on his plate, hands in his lap. “Morning,” she croaks, softly.

Percy lifts his eyes to her, unfathomable like the sea. “Morning.”

Something in her stops her from sliding into the seat across from him. Standing gives her strength, gives her power that she doesn’t want to give up. She may not be able to tell what Percy is thinking right now, but she knows when someone is gearing up for a fight. “What is it?”

“What is what?”

“What’s the matter?”

He is uncharacteristically still. Annabeth has gotten so used to him expressing himself via his body, the stillness is unsettling. Percy holds her gaze for a moment, then sucks in a breath, sitting up a little bit straighter. “I kicked over your recycling by mistake, and when I was cleaning up, I…” He bites his lip, a little ashamed. “I accidentally read some of your mail.”

“Okay.” He can’t be that broken up about her junk mail, can he?

It’s only then that she sees it, laid out neatly next to the breakfast plate. The letter has been carefully uncrumpled, but the red Harvard seal is as obnoxiously bright as ever. “I don’t mean to pry, but…” Percy licks his lips, gathering his words together. “I thought you didn’t get into Harvard?”

She doesn’t say anything.

“It’s just--this is from the Graduate School of Design,” he continues, looking at the page as if to confirm it. “And the dean says you were one of their ‘most promising graduates,’ here, so. That means you have, what, a master’s degree? Right?”

Still, she doesn’t say anything.

Percy rubs a hand over his mouth, square jaw squaring further. “I guess I just don’t understand why you lied to me.”

“I never--” she blurts.

“I mean, were you trying to spare my New Yorker sensibilities by telling me you didn’t get in? Did you think I would actually care?”

There’s nothing she can say in response. So she doesn’t.

After a moment, he blows out a sharp breath. “So. Fifteen thousand dollars, huh.”

She sighs, looking away. It’s not like Annabeth doesn’t hate it, too. “I didn’t do that,” she says, crossing her arms. “My dad did it, he just put it under my name.”

“And, he did that… why? I mean,” he tilts his head, a little bewildered. “I thought you guys weren’t on speaking terms.”

“To try and get me to network again, probably.” She shrugs. “And I’m not on speaking terms with him. He just hasn’t gotten the memo yet.”

He hasn’t raised his voice at all. He hasn’t moved from his seat, or made any kind of threatening gesture, but like an approaching storm cloud, she can feel the anger rolling in, dense and crackling. “Does he do this a lot, your dad? Throw his money around for you?”

“It’s not like I asked him to.”

But he’s shaking his head, rueful. “I don’t know how I didn’t see it before. You know, I thought it was weird that you could afford an apartment in the East Village with a bedroom on periodic architecture contracts, but I’m guessing he pays for that, too?”

He’s right, of course, but that doesn’t stop her from bristling. “It’s a trust fund,” she snaps. “It’s still my money.”

“A trust fund,” he says, softly. “Right.”

Anger lances through her, cold and burning. Just because her dad had set it up for her didn’t mean that she wouldn’t use it. “Yeah, a trust fund. Is that a crime, now?”

He opens his mouth as if to say something, then snaps it shut with an audible click. Pushing his chair out, he stands up, hands flat on the table. “I should go and get ready for my class. I’ll… I’ll text you later, okay?” Percy takes a step towards her, hands reaching for her on instinct, then pauses. “See you around.”

Percy leaves without so much as a look back, closing the door so quietly she can barely hear it over the roar of blood in her ears.

#my fic #percabeth #the rivalry ends here #ballet au #😈😈😈#darkmagyk #happy endings onlyyyyyyyy #percabeth fic #PJO

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